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lastflowerofyourhouse · 7 months

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something i like about nona's family is that they're so like, almost a perfect little nuclear family, and then just. not.

like. pyrrha is "the person who works for her" but also the one who makes breakfast and does the dishes. she's a woman quite literally posessing the body of a cis man and really leaning into the look, honorarily trans in both directions, working construction and shaving in the mornings and braiding nona's hair before school.

and then there's camilla, her...nagging wife? troublemaking older child? roomate who she barely gets along with? the fact that palamedes shares this role is doubly weird. he's a man literally posessing the body of a cis woman, and they're both pyrrha's nagging wife/problem child/roomate. i don't personally believe that anything explicitly or overtly sexual was happening between her and either of them, but i completely understand where people who think that are coming from. and it's fucking weird (affetionate?).

even nona occupies a weird place in this dynamic. like. pyrrha is definitely a parent to her but camilla, who takes a much more active role in her daily life, is...idk. nona has a crush on her and wants to marry her and adopt dogs. camilla's feelings for nona are more parental or older-sisterly, in that she cares for her and wants to protect her, and if her feelings are more complicated than that, it's because of the obvious aspects of the situation which make her extremely sad and apprehensive of the future. her affection for nona seems relatively simple.

and then there's palamedes, who is in theory another parental figure (see: camilla's "i'll talk to your mother later" face, or pyrrha's "you're going to make someone a really irritating wife one day, sextus"), but in nona's view of things he seems like something more along the lines of an older sibling, or perhaps a cool uncle, which is funny because pyrrha arguably treats him more like a spouse than she does camilla.

it's all just so fucking weird and jumbled up on itself. pyrrha will kiss camilla on the head and say "i'll be home for dinner, dear," and then turn around and call both her and nona "daddy's own treasures" (don't get me started). she'll kiss palamedes and camilla both on the mouth and tell them she loves them. she'll tell them she didn't love them well, or even wholesomely, and she won't explain what she means by wholesome.

alecto calls her "mother and father." alecto tells her she should've given into her urges and eaten them.

palamedes and camilla are second cousins and queerplatonic and married and the same person and by the start of the book the lines between them are already dissolving.

nona is so so young and she's so so old and she's not so much younger than camilla and she's older than pyrrha can even comprehend and some days she needs help getting her shirt over her head.

and most importantly they all love each other. it's a weird and confused and unhealthy love. it's a love full of tension and annoyance and fear. it's a love that wants very badly to fit a category and can't. but it's love it's love it's love and even when it's over even when it has nowhere left to go it's not gone it can't be gone. it's over it's done you can't take loved away.

#i started out writing a very normal analysis of their dynamics and got increasingly emotional as it went on #but i kinda like the way it reads now so i'm not gonna edit for tone #enjoy watching me spiral in real time #nona the ninth #nona of new rho #the locked tomb #tlt #my post

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deafsignifcantother · 3 months

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if music be the food of love

♥ relationships: aroace Alastor x deaf female reader (queerplatonic) ♥ word count: 2.1k ♥ warnings: reader got hurt by someone they loved before death, reader is shorter than him, bickering, reader loves tea, lonesome reader, alastor invading space ♥ my idea is that reader has a small stereo on her chest that lets out classical music based on her mood. I imagine that it comes from both her chest (softly) and the outside of her manor (loud as fuck). matching pinterest board

Your manor is only visible to the town when the lights are on a tall hill and covered in trees. However, even if all the lights were off, people would at least know it's there.

There are two reasons: the tale and the music.

Tale, a story for the newcomers. They speak of a demon who plays music all day, doomed to play music forever. Oh, the music. The music can be heard from even miles away.

It's refined and dainty, and it reeks of misery. The classical music never seems to repeat itself; it goes on and on and on and on. The demons hear you only through your music. When you cry, the violins and cellos grow with a cruel crescendo. When you sleep, the music is soft, almost quiet. Everyone comes to an understanding, assumption, that if the music were to stop, you would be dead.

The demons who try to step closer to your manor will find themselves experiencing unfathomable sorrow and guilt. The sound of your music is the demonic ability you possess, and it's out of your control. Due to the sadness of your death, you are forced into misery in the afterlife. When you were alive, those you loved and devoted yourself to only broke your heart.

Everybody affected by your music feels that grief.

Alastor doesn't understand why people fear your manor. Your love-related pain doesn't affect him at all.

He starts up the hill, moving both on his feet and through the shadows. On his way to your manor, he focuses on the landscape. The landscape is beautiful; the forest below is so dense that the red sky disappears. Personally, he loves the music. He loves tuning in on you and hearing how you're doing. He sparsely gets to visit, so hearing the song of your heart is always so welcoming.

The worst thing to him is how long the damn walk is.

You're in your house, passing through the dining room, when the lights flicker. The people from the nearby town stutter when the usual sad music suddenly becomes upbeat.

Opening the door, you are greeted by Alastor's traditional smile. You're the one that initiates the hug. He gently wraps his hand around you, only for a short time before he pulls away and establishes his distance.

"Long time no see, my dear." He signs, his claws adding a flare to the simple signs. Truthfully, his sign for "my dear" translates directly to "sweetheart," which he's aware of, just putting faith into you understanding what he means.

"I'll start some tea." You sign, turning immediately to the kitchen.

He smiles at the jazz sneaking its way into your music. The people outside know what it means.

Alastor looks around at the new decor; the place is different every time he enters. It's all the things that you enjoyed when you were alive. That's what is most noticeable about you beyond the aura you possess and how stuck you are to the past; you refuse to acknowledge your situation, which is both a curse and a blessing.

From the kitchen counter, you look at him, seeing him behind you, his staff out of his hands.

He leans a bit forward. "I have news! Have you heard of the new buzz, the new project from the princess of hell?"

A small smile forms. "Charlie?" You remember many years ago when she appeared at your door, in tears due to your involuntary magic, begging you to teach her ASL. You politely declined, though you wrote her a long paper about Deaf Culture (often derailing to rant about your opinion on common debates/crazy events). You've never seen her again, but you're confident she's read it.

You continue, "Her projects are... sweet?"

"Sweet and quite peculiar. She believes that demons can be redeemed. How absurd!" His smile grows, his eyes squinting in interest. He knows you're devoted to being good and staying away from violence. He's here to convince you to join her cause.

"Fascinating," you can't help but show your pure astonishment. "She's on our side."

"Oh, how kind you are!"

The tea is ready. You turn entirely away from Alastor, and he lets you. Your thoughts are apparent; he has spent weeks excited about this conversation. He's absolutely fighting the urge to spill out every argument he has; he wants to mention that if you participate, you'll see each other daily. That hasn't even crossed your mind yet.

You pour the tea and take your time, a little nervous to continue the convo. Alastor's eyes remain on your frame, your casual clothing. The last time he saw you, you were dressed up despite spending your days alone.

You hand a cup to him. Neither sign; you stand still, staring at each other and drinking. Both of you already know what the other will try to say next. Your eyes are deep in thought while he is locked on you. The only reason you are doubting being involved with everything yourself is that you know your aura makes others depressed. It is not very good, isolating. On the opposite stance, Alastor always noticed how your music gets positive whenever he's around. He knows (guesses) that in the hotel, with his presence, your saddening demeanor would be no more.

He moves abruptly, you follow, and he sits on a heavily cushioned couch, dipping deeply, which makes him smile. Your soft smile grows—more piano.

"What are your thoughts?" He prompts with one hand. You take a very long sip of your tea before putting it down.

"I wouldn't make them feel comfortable," you explain. "That's all I think about."

"Ever so pessimistic, my dear. You never know unless you come to visit. What do you say?" He grabs his mic and jokingly reaches it to your face, "A simple visit?"

You put a hand to your temple. "My love," you sign without noticing how his lids droop in comfort, "do you really think I would belong?"

He puts his hand to his chin in faux thought. "Of course I do! The princess will approach you with open arms."

You let out a small, broken groan. You're not going to be winning this little debate. Alastor's going to be able to rebuttal everything you say. Knowing that, why is it still so hard to give in?

You put your hands in your lap before returning them to your temples. His smile grows, and the static radiating off him grows ever so prominent, tickling your skin. You look up at him when you notice the change in the air.

The way he looks at you gives away his intentions. He is standing tall in his usual formal way in his seat, but his eyes are ever so casual. He gazes at you more than anything. His smile is still wide and prideful.

You wiggle a finger at him. "Ah."

He squints.

You continue, "You want to see me more, don't you?"

"Who wouldn't?" He plays off, shrugging. "Your captivating presence has every demon in hell dropping their jaws agape."

"Youuuuuu," you smile mischievously, "you want to see me more."

He continues to wave his hands. "Your accusations are futile, go ahead and fill your pretty head with things such as affection," his shoulders bounce as he chuckles, "dreams about how I miss you."

A breathless laugh leaves your lips. Rather than continue the teasing, you let the positive atmosphere linger in the air. You lift your chin with confidence. "Practically admitting it."

"I know what you want me from me." He signs. You smile at how he interpreted it. You don't bother responding. Instead, you give him a sly smile and lift your cup, taking another long sip; his bottom eyelid is twitching.

The last time he saw you, he signed you many compliments and even danced with you to the rhythm of your music. He let you put your hand on his face as he leaned his forehead against yours.

Admittedly, you only started teasing him because you wanted him to tell you that he missed you. Obviously, he did. You didn't expect him to be so stubborn about it.

When you don't respond, he continues. "When I'm here, your heart sings in happiness."

You nod and sign with one hand. "Very true."

"Well, I find the sound lovely."

"Very appreciated."

You watch as he leans back and crosses his legs, lifting and finishing the teacup. You both spend a few seconds without conversation, just looking at each other. In an attempt to hide how flustered you are starting to look, you lean your head back and gulp down the tea to the point where the cup is hiding your face. But you can only keep it in that position for a short time. After finishing the drink, you place it back down, finding that Alastor is already sitting with his fingers intertwined and waiting for you. His eyes sparkle.

"My dear, I missed you very much." And as quickly as the affection comes, it disappears. "I must give the little lady what she wants. There, are you happy?"

"I missed you too, Alastor. Thank you for coming up again."

Sappy, sappy, sappy. Will you agree to return to the hotel with him now?

He straights his bowtie and stands. "My dear, I'm afraid our time here will be cut short; I have a hotel to show you, don't I?"

You stay seated, just eyeing him. Peer pressure, you sigh and try not to roll your eyes. A simple nose exhaling is enough to show him how you feel.

He leans his head to the side. "Is there anything I can do to convince you?"

You finally stand and meet his eyes. His eyes are gorgeous; you love the way he looks at you. He doesn't take his eyes off you when you step close to him. Your hands reach for his overcoat, and you adjust it fruitlessly, only wanting an excuse to touch him.

You smile. "I can cook you something for your long trip back."

"Our."

"Your."

You both lean in, smiles straining.

He tries again. "Our."

"Biscuits, I assume," you turn your heels and motion for him to follow you. The motion you make is beckoning, and when you flick your wrist, he grabs it and pulls you into him. He lets you go to see your response. Your heart is beating out of your chest. You fall for people too easily. His touch is demanding, yet his face is calm, and with how close he is, all you can do is stare up at him. Your feet stumble a bit to adjust to your new stance. He will fight tooth and nail to get you to follow him back; throughout his days, he always wonders what you're doing and your music might sound like. He'll close his eyes and try to imagine the melody in moments of silence at the hotel.

You can't find yourself stepping back. "I'm perfectly okay with where I am." A lie. "Nobody will bother me if I'm out here."

"And nobody will bother you when you're next to me, get it?" After he signs, both of his hands hold your cheeks. He tilts your head back and forth to try and lighten the mood that's getting a little serious.

You try to hold his wrists and pull his hands down, but he fights against you. He lifts your face so he can look at you head-on. The waist bends his body; he curls himself up to you. Your touch falls to his sleeves and then moves to his biceps, your fingers grazing him gently.

The music is fast-paced, like your heart. It sounds almost angelic, a new ethereal sound surrounding it.

"Okay," you fold but then immediately chew on the inside of your lip.

"Perfect!" He presses his forehead to yours quickly before pulling away. He's taking this win. He turns and eyes the room, motioning. "Packing anything?"

With a small sigh of defeat, you place your hands on your temples again. What would you even need? Like a spoiled child, you realize that if you did need something in particular, Alastor would get it for you. You smiled and shook your head to yourself. "I don't think I need anything at all."

"Spectacular!" Another dramatic sign. "Come along then." The fast twirling of his staff blows air onto you when you start to walk behind him, eyeing how his fingers twist. His head turns as he glances at you from the corner of his eye, his head dipping as his smile widens. The static in the air becomes thicker.

You take a deep breath. If you can say 'I told you so' to him, you will be bringing it up until the end of time. He knows that, so it's good that he's confident in himself and his deductions. He'll ensure you won't be leaving and isolating yourself any longer.

#x deaf reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor #alastor x reader #x reader

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andy-skull · 19 days

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No thoughts, head empty

Except for RadioRosie

He lightly waves at her when she notices he's there. And clearly doesn't mind to be touched by her.

Why he leans so close to her? and why do they look so flirty???

Fav queerplatonic relationship friendship, until canon proves othewise

#radiorose #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin rosie #asexual alastor #queerplatonic radiorosie

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schrijverr · 1 year

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Honestly, I'm a bit in tears, thinking about Jonathan going on to be a famous photographer, bringing out a book of his early work (late 80s/early 90s) in, like, the 2010s or something and it's just full of queer joy and the queerplatonic family they all made together with the Upside Down gang.

Like it starts with Steve giving Robin a piggy back ride, both laughing their asses off. It's 1989, they had just moved to the big city bc most of the kids had graduated. It's late at night and they went to a Rocky Horror screening. Robin is dressed as Brad, Steve as Janet.

There's a full spread of Eddie on stage, he's shirtless save for a leather harness, sweaty and alive, hankerchief hanging out of his pocket. The next page is him with Steve is his normal clothes in his lap, the rest of the band and Robin around them, all stuffed in a booth in a diner. Nancy and Argyle hadn't been able to make it, but that's okay. It was Coroded Coffin's first big gig.

Argyle has a page dedicaded to him, most of them in the early mornings, sharing the bed with Nancy, the place where Jonathan is supposed to be obvious.

One is Jonathan's favorite, Eddie and Argyle are sharing a joint. They're on the roof, Eddie is gesturing with one hand, holding the joint Argyle is taking a hit from in his other hand. They often had these late nights on the roof, before their lives took off, when insomnia got too band and company was needed.

Nancy and Robin are pictured, they're kissing. They had a short fling in 1987, before Nancy got back with Jonathan and Argyle, and Robin found her current wife.

The wife, back then a girlfriend, is more femme than Robin and there are pictures of their 'wedding'. It wasn't legal, but they didn't care. Robin wore a suit, her wife a dress. There is one page dedicated to the most traditional wedding pictures they took as a joke.

Then the following pictures are more like them, posing with their collection of garden gnomes and taking goofy pictures with everyone, as well as more serious ones.

Jonathan's favorites are the one where Steve is dancing with Robin, her second dance, both having been disowned by their parents. It's obvious they're both crying. The other one is Robin covered in lipstickstains, both her and her wife grinning like madmen, clearly a little tipsy.

There are also pictures from that first summer after Hawkins split open. Nancy on Argyle's shoulders, Steve's on Eddie's, the four of them fighting in the quarry. Robin floating nearby on a floaty along with Max. In the background the boys are jumping down, only held in posed in the air like that by El, who had taken an interest in photography after she realized how easy it was to forget.

There is also thanksgiving at the Hopper-Byers, 1986. Murray is there as well and they're all pushed together on the table, far more people than they thought would survive. Everyone is laughing, because Jonathan is sprawled over Agryle, having tripped in his haste to get seated for the timer.

It's the intimate domesticity that Jonathan has gotten good at capturing that makes the book pop.

Steve, dead asleep, head resting on Eddie's chest, legs thrown over Robin's lap. Eddie is pressing a kiss onto his forehead, Robin is holding his hand. The photo is called: Nightmares

A picture taken by El is in there as well, properly credited. It was taken when visiting Nancy, Argyle and Jonathan in 1991, the three of them are all half asleep, sitting at the table, all wrapped up together, but doing their own thing. Nancy is making notes on a notepad, Jonathan is rolling film and Argyle is doing the crossword in the paper.

There is also one of Coroded Coffin sitting around, crammed into the tiny apartment Eddie, Robin and Steve shared when they first moved out to the big city. They're writing lyrics, obviously mid argument about something. What is noteble is Steve in the background, leaning against the doorframe, looking very fond, dishtowel slung over his shoulders.

Naturally there is also one with all the kids around the table, dice scattered about, Eddie in the midst of a dramatic narration, seemingly oblivious to Steve, smiling dopily and nearly sleep, from where he is draped over Eddie's lap.

There are also pictures of Robin painting Steve's nails, because while Steve knew he'd had to take it off before work, he likes the way it looks.

As well as Steve doing Eddie's eyeliner, because Eddie used to be baby about it, before he got used to doing it before shows.

Will is also in there, alseep in the backseat with Mike, draped over the other guy. They're both in the remnants of cosplay, on the way back from a convention.

All the kids are, though they feature less, having been younger and in different phases of life.

There is a picture of Max and El asleep in Max's dorm when she went to college. Her skateboard is leaning against the wall along with her crutches. Max's hands are in El's hair, it's half braided like they fell asleep before finishing it.

Lucas is pictured with Steve, sweating on a basketball court, what is more obvious is Eddie and Max in the foreground. They're both leaning on their knees, oggling the two players. Max's eyes peer out through thick lenses, but that doesn't hide the moon eyed expression that matches Eddie's.

Another intimate moment that Jonathan captured was Steve, Eddie and Dustin, the three of them in front of a mirror, shaving. Eddie is just dry shaving, but Steve and Dustin both have foam beards, by the looks of it, Steve is teaching Dustin how to shave.

There are also just a few pages dedicated to cheek kisses, both platonic and romatic. They have big grins, soft looks, tears and blood in them. All of them look meant.

One double page is Argyle, Eddie, Nancy, Robin and Steve painting protest signs. There is laughter, but a somber atmosphere too. A heartbreaking point in history to be alive.

The next page is Eddie, Steve and Nancy, the three of them black eyes, Steve even missing a tooth. They're on the steps of a police station, Eddie is giving it the finger, his other arm slung around Steve. Nancy is getting checked over by Agryle, looking determined. Robin is running towards Steve.

Furthermore, it's filled to the brim with pictures of them doing dishes, playing games, backstage with Eddie, Nancy interviewing leather daddies at pride, hands twined together on the dashboard.

Nancy has provided the writing, telling their stories of those times. They might not be able to say it all, but they can say more than back then and their stories deserve a space too. Their interlinked dynamics, their ups, their downs. The family they built together.

Just Jonathan's queer photography of the late 80s/early 90s y'all.

On AO3

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bimobuddy · 2 months

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Just Eat You Up

SFW Hazbin Tickle Fic

Lee!Alastor, Ler!Rosie

Queerplatonic shipping

It's gonna sound OOC for Alastor, but I like to believe he's only this soft and vulnerable around Rosie ( platonic wife)

Summary: Alastor and Rosie find themselves up talking and sharing a moment, when Rosie accidentally gets a bit too close. Having all the patience in the world for her, Alastor endures.

When he wasn't staying at the Hotel, he stayed with Rosie. She didn't mind, quite the opposite actually, she loved it when Alastor was over. She even had a room for him next to hers.

While he was over this night, he leaned against the kitchen counter, a cup of tea in hand while he just smiled and watched his platonic partner pace around the room ranting.

"- and you know I love all my citizens, but Susan, ugh, I just don't understand what her deal is. It's like she gets enjoyment out of disagreeing with everyone in town. You get what I mean, right, Al?" She asked, finally leaning against the counter herself, grabbing her own cup. She frowned a little when she saw that it was empty, which prompted Alastor to give her his cup.

"Of course I do, like I said, she's an ornery old bitch." He said, adding a little more sass to his tone than usual, knowing it amused Rosie, earning a light laugh from her.

She meant to just playfully smack his arm but as he started to stand up more, her hand grazed his side instead, causing him to arch away. Absolutely delighted, Rosie set the cup of tea down. "Oh I forgot you were ticklish, Alastor!" She said.

Alastor turned to back away from her, his hands up in defense. "Now, darling, really there's no need to-" he stepped back quickly to narrowly avoid her hands, "R-Rosie, dear, wait a minute!" His ears shot straight up in alarm as he suddenly backed into the counter. "Why would I wait, Al, it's not often I hear a real genuine laugh from ya, it's always that rehearsed show-host laugh of yours." She said, pushing past his out stretched arms to lightly skitter up his sides.

With anyone else, he might have killed them, but this was Rosie. Clearly his only option was just to be patient and let it happen. Not that he was completely against it anyway.

Alastor felt her slip her hands under his jacket to scritch at his sides through his shirt. His grin widened as he used the counter to support himself, chuckles spilling out freely. "Roho- Rohohose, plehehease-" "Don't try to sweet talk out of this by using a nickname, Ally~" She grinned, pinching his lowest two ribs.

His cheeks flushed at the name as he loosely grabbed her wrists, giggling harder as her fingers danced up his ribcage. As Rosie gently dug into his underarms, Alastor's knees gave out and he sank to the floor, laughing.

Spotting rapid movement out of the corner if her eye, she noticed his tail was wagging. She grinned with a gasp. "Aw! Alastor, are you enjoying this, you sweet thing?" She asked, her hands finding their way up to his ears, gently scritching there. There was a soft crack of radio static before his laughs softened up into giggles. He shut his eyes to avoid answering. But Rosie knew better.

She started to softly scritch under his chin, making his cheeks flush a brighter shade of pink and his tail wag faster, something she knew only she was allowed to witness. He seemed to melt right there, eyes closed, grin softened into a smile, as he giggled quietly and leaned into the affectionate touch.

Rosie found it incredibly endearing. She added her second hand, scratching both sides under his jaw, watching as his ear started to flick and he relaxed even further. She took a moment to just watch him like this for a moment more, before she suddenly reached down and slipped her hands under his shirt to scribble at his bare tummy.

Alastor's eyes snapped open as he was almost startled out of this calming and affectionate state. He tossed his head back and laughed, trying to simultaneously curl up and move away, resulting in him sort of just falling over onto his side, then curling up on the floor.

"Hahahahahaha! Rohohosie plehehehease!"

"Look at youuu~! Such a widely feared and respected demon curled up into a little tiny ball in my kitchen! I got you, Alastor~! Got you got you got you~!" She teased, spidering around his tummy, adding a soft scritch with each 'got you.'

Alastor was flustered beyond belief, his ears pinned back as he laughed and gently tried to grab her hands. She suddenly grinned the most evil smile he's seen on his cannibal friend in a while. "Alastor, you should see how cute you are right now.. I could just eat you up." She lifted his shirt just a little bit and leaned down to blow a raspberry into his tummy.

"HAHAHAHAHA! ROHOHOSE!" He cackled, his legs kicking at the floor while he clenched his hands into fists to keep himself from pushing her away. Before he could ask again, Rosie had stopped, letting her friend to just lay there and catch his breath.

Once he sat up, he pointed a finger at her. "Evil, rude, cruel, and-" She just leaned in and kissed the top of his head, silencing him. "And don't you forget it." She replied getting up. She offered her hands, and helped him up as well, fixing his bowtie for him.

"Goodness, you're a mess, Al. Such a squirmer." she teased, even reaching up to fix his hair, which he allowed, finding it to be nice and affectionate. "I wouldn't be such a mess if someone hadn't just assaulted me." He said with a light chuckle.

Rosie ignored his response with a wave of her hand. "Oh you're fiiine." He tilted his head. "Maybe I should get you back then, if it's no big deal." He teased, with a gentle squeeze to her waist.

She jumped and grabbed his wrist. "I'd like to see you try."

#sfw tickling community #tickle community #tickle fic #tickling #hazbin hotel tickle #hazbin tickles #lee!alastor #ler!rosie

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