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nobodyfamousposts · 3 years

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Helluva Deal (Miraculous X Helluva Boss)

Well, since Miraculous crossovers with Helluva Boss/Hazbin Hotel are a thing now, I figured I’d write my own on how I think it would likely go. Since this IS the Helluva Boss universe, expect mentions of death and the afterlife, allusions to violence, innuendos, and general inappropriateness:

“Let me get this straight.”

Blitzo stared down the demon before him.

Said demon simply looked back, unimpressed. The little thing was small with blue skin, dorky-looking round glasses, and uneven horns. It wasn’t even a notable demon. Just a random weaker demon who somehow got the funds to pay for their services.

And normally, Blitzo was hardly one to turn down money—or a job that offered money. But this…

“You want to pay us to kidnap someone from Earth—not murder, which is in our company’s name, but kidnap. Which is decidedly more difficult and less fun.”

“Yep.”

Blitzo steepled his fingers together and held them up to his face. “And you want this person kidnapped—not so you can kill her yourself for whatever issue you may have, but because you want her to make you a jacket.”

“Yep.”

“A plain old jacket you could just get anywhere here in Hell.”

The demon gasped in offense. “It’s not just ANY jacket! It’s an MDC original piece and I want one!”

Blitzo took a breath, getting the feeling he was going to regret this.

“Why?”

This…made the demon pause and eventually shrug. “Well, I did say I would have died for an MDC jacket. And I’m dead now, so…gimme.”

Well, who was he to argue with that logic?

Although…

“That is going to require quite a bit more effort…” He started, obviously leading…

The demon gave a flat look. “I’m not paying you double. I need the rest to pay her for the jacket.”

“Why would you want to pay for it?” Blitzo demanded. “This is Hell! You’re a demon! Just steal one!”

“It’s a commission! I have to pay for it!”

Blitzo would have spit out his drink if he’d had one.

“What are you even in Hell for, anyway? You won’t kill. You won’t steal. You just want to pay some human for a jacket you could get anywhere. What’s the point of that?” He asked, giving the other demon a strange look because really, what kind of demon WANTED to pay for things?

The demon stared flatly at Blitzo, his tail flicking against the chair in apparent increasing agitation.

"Are you saying that a commission shouldn't be paid for?” The demon asked curiously, sounding a little...too polite. “Because the last guy who tried to skip out on paying for a commission died. Eyes stabbed out and everything. Do you want to risk that kind of thing happening to you?"

…

Blitzo paled.

“Oh.”

The silence lingered to the point of long past uncomfortable as the demon continued to wait for an answer and Blitzo’s not so subtle attempt to desperately press his secret security button under his desk had no effect.

This would turn out to be because of Loona disconnecting the thing due to her hangover. Though in the moment, Blitzo would choose to blame Moxie.

After a good minute of no response from his team, Blitzo started to sweat when the determined artist demon seemed to grow bored and pulled out a pencil.

He jumped to his feet.

“We’ll take the case!”

And immediately fled the room.

_______

Once on Earth, the problem came up rather quickly that they had no idea who MDC was or how to access them. The client only knew the target was a fashion designer in Paris, which narrowed it down to one city at least but still was little help when the city in question was one of the fashion capitals of the world.

Blitzo, naturally, took the lead in trying to work out a means of information gathering.

And by “naturally”, what was really meant was “horribly failing”.

“I’m telling you, the plan is foolproof. We hold someone for ransom until MDC trades herself.” Blitzo said with apparent glee.

“Sir, that would be the exact opposite of subtle and get us the wrong kind of attention!”

Moxie, for his part, was trying to come up with what he would call “sensible plans”. Millie was simply scouting the area while the two argued. Ever faithful Loona stayed behind to try using her own connections…a magazine.

Needless to say, Blitzo was the one carrying the team. Or at least in his not-so-humble opinion.

Blitzo rolled his eyes. “I don’t see you coming up with any plans, Moxie.”

The smaller demon gave his boss a disgruntled glare. “I already told you! We should just go back and ask the client for more information!”

“Hmm…” Blitzo paused, before pulling out his phone. “Hey, Loona. The client still in my office?”

“Yeup.”

Blitzo immediately closed the phone. “Yeah—nope.”

“Sir—”

“He gouged a guy’s eyes out, Moxie! I need my eyes! I’m too pretty to lose them! They frame my face!” Blitzo exclaimed, bringing his hands up to his head in a fit of dramatics. “Is that what you want, Moxie? Do you want me to lose my precious, precious eyes?”

Moxie stared at the man like he was insane. Granted, Moxie had long had doubts about his boss’s sanity, but still...

“Hey, fellas?” Millie called, interrupting the two as she waved them over to the side of the building they had set up a temporary base atop of. “Listen to this!”

Blitzo immediately headed over, with Moxie following along behind looking annoyed. As they got closer, they heard what Millie had called them over about. Blitzo leaned over and peeked into the room in question.

Below them was an open window of the building where apparently a number of teenagers were gathered within for some inexplicable reason. And in this specific room, a group of the teens were gathered around one particular girl with a large forehead and hair that appeared to be made of meat. It was this girl who had their attention.

“—really friends with MDC?” One short blonde asked, looking overly excited like Blitzo did when he got a paycheck.

“Of course!” The meat-girl replied, looking smug. “We go way back! I was even the one who encouraged him to start in fashion and inspired his Heroes line.”

Blitzo looked back up at his team. “I thought MDC was a girl?”

Moxie shrugged. “If no one knows their real identity who's to say if they're a boy or a girl?"

“What else are they saying?” Millie asked, which returned the focus to the room.

More talking from below, using words that none of the demons really understood or cared about.

“—which was why he even made the Fox outfit for me!”

“Wasn’t that design based on Rena Rouge rather than Volpina?” One other girl with blue hair asked from the doorway of the room. She appeared to be rather annoyed for some odd reason.

The meat-girl looked somber. “Well, that was before he had to change it. After all, as bold as he is, not many people would support an akuma line, even if he had kept my idea to donate the funds to charity for the victims.”

The group “oo”-ed over the girl and praised her for her thoughtfulness. The meat-girl preened at the attention. The bluenette rolled her eyes. Some other blond guy looked on in disappointment.

“How amazing!” The little blonde exclaimed, clasping her hands to her cheeks. “I’d love to be able to meet MDC!”

“So would we!”

All eyes fell to the window which Blitzo, Millie, and Moxie used to make their entrance.

Honestly, he thought it was one of his better displays of dramatics. It certainly warranted some applause. Or screams of fear. Maybe one fainting.

“Akuma!”

Honestly, he was rather disappointed by the underwhelming response.

“I know we're demons and all, but I thought this place was French, not Japanese!"

“Nevermind that.” Blitzo replied to his workers before stepping forward to face the students.

Or rather one student in particular.

“Greetings! I am Blitzo. The two behind me are Millie and Moxie.”

The class stared as one of the two glared at them while the other waved cheerfully—or would be considered cheerfully if her teeth weren’t so razor sharp.

“We represent IMP, a for-hire group out of Hell. We take contracts, complete tasks, and make wishes come true!”

The teens looked at the demons in wariness and confusion.

“That sounds nice…” The little blonde in pink said.

“Those wishes generally involve murder.”

“I take it back! That sounds horrible!”

Blitzo grinned. “We are the ‘Immediate Murder Professionals’, dealing with the unfinished business of those poor wretched souls who are seeking some small vindication in their current status in Hell.”

“Then…why are you here?” The bigger male demanded.

Blitzo ignored him in favor of his true target.

“You! Ugly girl!” He shouted, grabbing the meat-girl.

“Hey!” She exclaimed, insulted.

He shook her. “Take us to MDC and we’ll rip out those sausage-links you call hair!”

“…don’t you mean ‘or’?”

He grinned ferally.

“No.”

She shrieked in fear.

“Lila!” Others cried out in horror.

Ah, yes. There was the fear. This, Blitzo was good with. It made him feel better about the previous lackluster response to his entrance.

“Why do you want me?!” The girl—Lila shouted, looking panicked. “I don’t know where MDC is!”

He raised an eyebrow at this. “But you said you were friends.”

She glanced around, taking note of the fact that her cohorts were still in the room. Though he didn’t know why that should matter for her answer.

“We are! But…I don’t know where he lives now! He’s moved since his name got out there and hasn’t given me the address yet!”

A glasses-wearing girl frowned in confusion. “But didn’t you just say that he invited you to his house for fittings?”

“Yeah, you said it was for the latest line that just came out.” Another girl with multi-colored hair added.

“That was months ago. Before he moved.” Lila replied quickly. “So I can’t help you.”

“Sure, you can!” Blitzo replied jovially. “We can just use you as ransom until MDC agrees to hand himself over.”

Moxie approached the two, keeping his gun leveled at the other kids. “We can save some time and see if she can’t call him.”

“Hey, yeah!” Millie agreed, grabbing Lila’s bag off of her and searching for her phone. “If they’re friends, she’s gotta have his contact info!”

“It’s not in there!” Lila replied quickly. “I was worried someone would steal my phone to get his info so I don’t keep his number in my phone!”

Millie frowned, before holding the now open phone up to Lila. “Then just type in the number yourself.”

Lila glanced around the room in growing agitation. “I can’t! I don’t have it memorized!”

“Then where did you write it down?”

“I lost it!”

The demons were looking particularly vexed.

“When and where?”

“It was a while ago. I don’t know where.” Lila replied.

A girl with glasses looked at her in confusion. “But didn’t you say you just called him this morning to congratulate him on the new line? And that he promised you a free outfit as thanks for all your help?”

Lila paled. “I—”

“Then the number should still be in the phone under its call history.” Moxie noted. Millie grinned and looked back to the phone screen to look through the data.

“I deleted it right after!” Lila shouted desperately.

Millie looked up at her in irritation.

Then promptly crushed the phone in her grip.

Lila shrieked, though it would be up for debate as to whether it was in shock at the loss of her phone or in fear that she may soon share that same fate.

Blitzo seemed similarly put out, but ended up shrugging it off as he pulled Lila closer to him. “Then it’s back to Plan A to hold her for ransom. Or torture her to see if she can’t remember the details.”

“No, please!”

“Lila!”

“Let her go!”

Lila grabbed at the arm holding her, panicked but not enough beyond reasoning. She couldn’t afford to reveal she lied now. She could only hope that these monsters would take her somewhere private where she could manipulate them with less witnesses.

Marinette, for her part, was also analyzing the situation.

These were three unknowns. Definitely not akumas. If they were to be believed, they were actual demons. From Hell. Which existed, apparently. And was where Lila would likely find herself in the next hour if she kept this up.

But from Lila’s expression, it seemed she was insistent on staying tight-lipped about her lies. Marinette figured as much due to her history. But she would have thought that Lila would have had some measure of self-preservation. Though perhaps that only applied to the preservation of her lies and manipulations rather than her own well being.

It was clear that Lila wasn’t going to get herself out of this. Not in any way that would spare her and everyone else in the room, at any rate.

As it was, the classmates were about to rally in Lila’s defense. While they had stood their own against akumas in the past,Marinette didn’t want to see how well they would fare against demons. Nor did she want to have to test if the Miraculous Cure would be enough to fix whatever would be left of them if they tried.

Marinette looked to the doorway.

No one was paying any attention to her right now. She could escape. She could go out, find a place to transform, and come back to deal with these…demons.

But by the time she returned, who was to say what could happen. The demons could kill Lila. They could kill all of her friends for being witnesses.

Ladybug may not be able to fix this.

But Marinette…as Marinette, she could.

“I’m MDC.” Marinette admitted.

Everyone froze.

“Come again.”

“MDC.” Marinette enunciated. “It stands for Marinette Dupain-Cheng. My name. I’m MDC. I’m the one you want.”

Alya stared. “Girl?”

Moxie looked at her in consideration. “That would fit with the client’s report of MDC being female.”

Millie, frowned in suspicion. “How do we know she’s really MDC?”

Marinette took a breath and slowly pulled out her tablet. “Well, my signature is in the clothes, so if you’ll let me pull up one of the shots, I can point it out and—”

Blitzo cut her off, grabbing her arm. “Yeah, I think we’ll just take you both and let the client sort it out. Sound good? Good, because we’re leaving.”

“Bye all!” Millie said, waving to the group. “Don’t do anything we wouldn’t do!”

Moxie rolled his eyes. “That’s a pretty short list…”

Blitzo ignored them an opened a portal, dragging both girls after him. Without a glance back, both Millie and Moxie followed him through the portal. Before anyone else could move, the gateway closed behind them.

A long pause followed.

“Not so fast!”

Suddenly, the door was kicked open as Chat Noir burst into the room.

The much less enemy-filled room.

“Um…did I miss the party?”

_______

The room they soon found themselves appeared, for all intents and purposes, completely normal. It looked like an office of the sort they’d find anywhere in Paris. Complete with a secretary’s desk, a few chairs, and a table littered with magazines.

The difference was made quickly apparent, however, through the view out the window. The landscape the deceptively quaint room was mostly a collage of red and black, with a sunless sky above and a myriad of strange buildings. Also of note where the various denizens of…distinctly non-human appearance wandering the streets outside.

“All right, ladies! Welcome to Hell!” Blitzo announced with a flourish, causing the girls to pale.

Lila fell back with a screech, landing on her butt and immediately attempting to scuttle back away. Her path was quickly halted as she bumped into something. Looking up, that “something” was actually a wolf monster, making Lila panic even further.

Loona, for her part, was not having a good morning—ignoring, of course, that it was actually the afternoon. And as if it wasn’t bad enough that her hangover still hadn’t cleared, now some…thing had shoved into her, followed shortly by an ear-piercing shriek that only made her head feel worse.

Seeing the way the wolf demon growled, Lila opened her mouth, possibly to scream even more when Marinette quickly shoved a hand over her mouth with a smile to Loona.

“Oh my! Your hairstyle is quite lovely!” She lied. Blatantly lied to the wolf girl’s face.

“It’s bed-head.”

“I couldn’t even tell. It looks so sleek and shiny!”

“Whatever.” Loona grumbled and stormed off to the break room, slamming the door behind her (and then immediately regretting it due to the noise agitating her headache).

Marinette decided to take the initiative. “So…what do you want with us, anyway?”

“Our client paid us a pretty penny—”

“Basic contract.” Moxie interrupted.

“Pretty. Penny.” Blitzo continued as if he hadn’t heard. “For a chance to meet with MDC.”

Okay, they had mentioned that before.

“Then what?”

“If you are MDC, you can do whatever the client is wanting. If you’re not, you’ll at least make for a decent distraction while we escape and blow up the building.”

The humans in the room blanched at that.

“WHAT?!”

“I know. She was a beautiful building.” Blitzo said mournfully as he actually wiped a tear from his eye. “And I just got my office arranged how I like it, too. But it

Marinette stared.

Lila whimpered.

“I second that ‘what’.” Moxie interrupted. “Nobody at any point discussed blowing up the building!”

“It was on page 3 of the handout I gave you this morning, Moxie.” Blitzo exclaimed, covering his eyes in exasperation. “At least read the mission briefings!”

“Sir, the ‘handout’ was a paper napkin. There was no third page!” Moxie insisted.

Beside him, Millie for her part was looking over the aforementioned napkin for the part that was supposed to mention the circumstances in question…or really any of the plan.

“We’ll discuss it later.” Blitzo said over his shoulder to Moxie as he proceeded to grab both human girls and drag them over to a previously closed door.

“Hey wait—!”

“Hang on!”

Within seconds, Blitzo opened the door and proceeded to shove both girls through before slamming it shut behind them, the last thing they heard being him mentioning where to buy explosives.

_______

So.

Recap.

Hell was real. Demons were a thing. And the two human girls were getting a first hand view of the less than pleasant or holy side of the afterlife.

Marinette was…actually taking it all in stride.

Lila was less so. She was sitting ramrod straight in the chair, keeping a tight grip on her knees and trying very hard not to move as her eyes glanced quickly around the room at the assembled demons.

Marinette actually felt bad for her. And probably should have been panicking herself, all things considered. Maybe she would have been had it not been for her extensive experience as Ladybug.

Sure, it was Hell, but floating gods and people turning into monsters had already broadened her horizons of the possibilities of the universe. Plus despite the name of the company that had kidnapped them both, murder didn’t appear to be on the table. All in all, despite the circumstances, Marinette didn’t feel that scared.

The fact that the “client” in question who hired the group was actually a fan of hers wanting a commission helped quite a bit with that.

As did the flattery.

“OMG! OMG! I can’t believe it! It’s you! Can I get your autograph?! No—wait! I need to focus! Can I get a jacket with your autograph?!”

“Thank you.” Marinette said, somewhat flustered. Honestly, she hadn’t thought she had gained THAT much fame. Especially not enough for someone to want to commission her from the afterlife.

…was that a thing? Could that be a thing?

“What I don’t get is why the other girl had to tag along?” The demon asked, curiously. “Is she your assistant or something?”

Lila brightened, looking ready to speak—likely to try to lie her way out of this. Or mess up what little peace Marinette had managed to create.

“No!” Marinette interrupted quickly, ignoring Lila’s petulant glare. “No, she’s not. There was just a mix up since they didn’t know where I was or who to bring.”

Blitzo rolled his eyes. “Well, how were we supposed to know?!”

“You could have asked me when I contracted you.” Said the demon, somewhat annoyed.

“I have a website, you know.” Said Marinette, very annoyed.

They paused.

“…the fuck’s a website?”

Silence.

Marinette coughed. “In any case, you wanted to commission me?”

“Oh, yes!”

_______

It didn’t take long to make the arrangements. Marinette named her prices and the demon was more than willing to pay her for her services. They made use of Blitzo’s office to negotiate and fine tune some details regarding the arrangement. From determining the materials to writing up the contract to negotiating the costs, it was all pretty professional.

And ultimately involved the humans not being murdered and the building not being blown up, which was always preferable.

It finally came down to determining just how the demon customer wanted the jacket to look, and Marinette started drawing out some sample sketches on spare paper in the office that may or may not have been important documents for Blitzo which she may or may not have particularly cared given the whole “kidnapping and being used as a sacrifice” matter.

The only issue seemed to be that the demon customer wanted the jacket to be made of materials that were only available in Hell. Which made sense, she supposed, since she wasn’t sure how long anything she made on Earth would last in this environment. Millie and Moxie had been sent out to gather the necessary material in question, and what they returned with was a strange sort of leather. It was unique and of a color she had never seen before, and part of her really wanted to get a bit more detail about the make.

…given how pale Lila had already gotten, Marinette kindly decided to refrain from asking questions.

“Well then, let’s go over a few sketches and determine which one you like.”

The demon looked almost giddy at the prospect. The IMP team looked relieved. Except Blitzo, who still seemed to be pouting over their takeover of his office.

Lila was…less enthused. “WHAT?! What are you thinking?! He’s a demon!”

Marinette shrugged. “Well, I do have a non-discrimination clause.”

“That shouldn’t apply to demons!” Lila hissed lowly.

“The demons who have brought us to Hell and are currently our only way of getting back.” Marinette pointed out, dryly.

Lila huffed and went back to her chair.

So, with Blitzo and his team begrudgingly kindly being forced willing to donate their office for her use, Marinette sent to work to try and design a jacket to the client’s taste as quickly as possible.

The sooner she got done, the sooner they could go back to Earth.

…hopefully.

Lila, for her part, was terrified and miserable and just wanting to go back to Earth. Immediately would be preferable. Even without Marinette.

Yeah, thanks Lila.

“Why do I have to stay here? Why can’t I go back home? Or do anything else?”

The client tilted his head. “Are you saying you don’t like art? Because the last person who told me they didn’t like art had their eyes stabbed out. With pencils. Would you want that to happen to you?”

“…can’t I like art and not stay in Hell?”

“No.”

Lila paled and sunk lower in her seat, where she remained quiet for the next couple of hours while Marinette worked.

It was mostly in silence as Marinette drew one sketch after another. Asking occasional questions about preferred length, how many pockets, special embellishments, and which parts of the various jacket styles did he prefer. Eventually, they had come to an agreement about the set look he wanted, the materials needed, and when he wanted it completed by. And from there came the matter of payment…

“Um…I’m not sure what the exchange rate is for Hell currency.” Marinette said, looking at the coins he handed her.

The demon frowned, tilting his head in consideration. “I could always rob a human bank and pay you with that.”

Marinette paled.

“This is fine. Really. I can probably buy some things from Hell with this.” She said with a forced smile.

“There are tons of things you can only find here.” Millie said, brightening. “We could deliver them for you!”

Well, that was a good point.

“That’s true.” Moxie agreed. “You could make other things with the fabrics here. Hats. Shirts.”

He paused, looking over his shoulder at Millie who was busy chatting with the customer regarding the fabric he chose. Seeing she was suitably distracted, he turned to Marinette. “So…how much would it be to make a dress. Just out of curiosity.”

Aww. Even in Hell there was love.

She smiled. “We can certainly discuss it.”

The moment was ruined as Blitzo stepped in and slung an arm around Marinette’s shoulder.

“How about one of those sexy maid outfits for the bedroom? You’re French, right?” He asked before giving Moxie a nudge. “You could stand to have a little more fun in the bedroom.”

“Sir, I’m 14.” Marinette replied dryly.

“And what we do in the bedroom is none of your business!” Moxie rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Didn’t we just have a discussion about this last week?”

Marinette coughed as the two started to argue. “So…um…are we going to return to Earth so I can start working on this?”

Blitzo sighed. “Fine, fine. Killjoys.”

Lila heaved a sigh of relief. “Oh thank God.”

_______

With an agreement forged between Marinette and IMP to have the customer’s order completed and delivered within two week’s time, Marinette and Lila were safely deposited back in their classroom no worse for wear.

…well, physically. Mentally, there were probably going to be a few scars.

Several of their classmates had apparently remained since the earlier incident. Perhaps it was out of worry? Or maybe classes had resumed after their disappearance—akuma attacks and strange circumstances had become rather common, after all.

Still, it was Alya’s cry of surprise and then being pulled into a hug that assured Marinette she was, in fact, back home.

“You’re back!” Alya exclaimed, relieved. “We were so worried!”

It wasn’t every day your best friend and classmate was dragged to Hell, after all.

“—and I’d been trying to reach out to Ladybug and Chat Noir, but only Chat showed up and Ladybug must be busy or maybe she already knew? Did she help you? How did you escape?”

Part of her wondered if Alya had even stopped to breathe. The rest of her was just basking in the happiness that they had made it back safe and nothing too terrible had happened in the meantime.

The absolute LAST thing she needed was to come back and find out Hawk Moth had let loose another akuma that destroyed Paris while she was gone.

Alya suddenly gasped as though struck by a thought.

“Oh my god, Marinette! I can’t believe you did that!”

Marinette smiled. “Well, I had to—”

“You claimed to be MDC just to protect Lila! And here I thought you hated her!”

Happy feeling gone. Gone like a punch to the face. Knocked out. Dead, even.

Alya beamed. “I’m so proud of you, girl! I knew deep down that—”

“Nope!” Came a quick interruption. “That’s not what happened. It was just a lie. Completely and utterly.”

The interruption was half expected.

The fact that it came from Lila was not.

Everyone froze.

“What?”

“I never met MDC.” Lila explained, wasting absolutely no time with subtleties and just blurting it out. “I never knew Marinette was MDC. I just lied about knowing him because I thought he was the next big thing and I knew you would all believe me.”

“…what?”

Lila sighed. “I lied about knowing MDC. And being the muse behind his fashion line—well, hers. Since Marinette is MDC. She never lied. I did.”

The classmates were startled, but seemed to be taking in the information.

Rose, for her part, tried to be positive. “Oh...well, you didn’t have to lie about knowing MDC—”

“No, I mean about everything. Ever. In fact, there’s probably not a single time we’ve known each other that I was ever honest with any of you.”

Everyone stared.

“I’ve been lying since the moment we’ve met.” Lila continued. “I am a liar. Always have been. I am a horrible lying liar who lied about everyone I ever claimed to know and everything I ever said I did just to get you all to admire me because it was easier to manipulate you that way and get you to do things I wanted. From interviewing me for the Ladyblog to carrying my lunch tray to buying me things. I lied about having tinnitus just to get to sit next to Adrien and lied about not being interested in him to manipulate Nino into guilting him into letting me come to his house. Ladybug herself even called me out for lying. And when Marinette got upset that day I came back over the seat change? I threatened her in the bathroom because she was wise to me from the very start.”

A few stares were sent Marinette’s way. She didn’t have any explanation for them though. She was just as surprised as they were. More, even.

Lila shrugged. “Everything I’ve said. Everything I’ve done. All lies. Ever.”

Everyone gaped in shock. Nobody even really knew what to say.

Marinette started. “But why—”

“Because that was Hell, Marinette. HELL. The bad place you go to after you die, reserved for bad people. And until today, I didn’t even think it was real. Or that there could be a chance I could end up there. But I imagine if anything would warrant that, it’d be lying, manipulating, and trying to get revenge on a superhero.”

Nino blinked. “Wait…what was that last one—”

As if a great weight was lifted from her shoulders, Lila sighed. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go join a convent to try and save my soul now that I know I have one.”

With that, she promptly exited the room, leaving the group staring after her in complete bewilderment.

Alya gaped. “...what?”

_________

Epilogue:

Marinette completed her commission to the demon and later for Moxie. Her fame increased in both realms and she eventually did open up her own design house. The only issue came in the customers who wanted to pay her by removing her competition, which she was mostly able to prevent until IMP took a hit on Gabriel Agreste. While Marinette did stop the attempted murder, this did still reveal his secondary identity of Hawk Moth, allowing the Butterfly and Peacock to be recovered and peace to return to Paris.

The classmates were shocked at the reveal of Lila’s true nature, but were more bewildered than anything given how it happened. They did all feel foolish and embarrassed for trusting Lila, but considering what could have happened, they all chose to take it as a life lesson to be more cautious in the future. They all remained friends and moved on to live quite fulfilling lives.

IMP formed a contract with MDC and gained a secondary job of delivery service as well as assassins, which increased their profits.

And Millie loved her new dress.

Lila Rossi convinced her mother to send her to a convent, where she became one of the most pious and devout members, spreading the message of being good in life more than any other.

#ml fic #ml crossover #marinette dupain cheng #Lila sucks #lila redemption #helluva boss

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hopesangelsprite · 3 years

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Denny’s | JJK

Pairing: Waiter!Jungkook x Reader

Summary: (Y/N)’s bestie takes her for a birthday breakfast with a surprise!

If looks could kill, my bestie would be six feet under, and I would be behind bars. At the literal ass crack of dawn, this big fore headed thot had called to wish me a happy 18th birthday. The first thing on her “Bad Bitch Birthday Itinerary” was getting up at 6:00 am on the dot to get ready for breakfast at Denny’s two hours later. Usually, I would’ve declined immediately, but I had nothing else planned anyway. Besides, I got a distinct feeling that something amazing was going to happen today.

So, I pulled myself out of my warm bed, showered, and put on the outfit she’d bought me yesterday. I spent a good thirty minutes detangling and slicking back my 4a curls. Once I’d finished, she came and picked me up before hauling ass to Denny’s where my so-called ‘surprise’ awaited me.

Now I’m contemplating stabbing her with a plastic spoon as she rereads the menu for the fourth time. “Bitch, what are you doing? I know you’re stalling. Have you forgotten that we were born in the same hospital room?!”, I inquire while my glare deepens. She glances up briefly to flick her tongue out at me like a child. My eyes widen in disbelief before I growl out, “Candie Lashay Moore if you don’t start talking, I’m gonna stab you with a spoon!”. Candie looks up at me unfazed. “How the fuck you gon’ stab me with a spoon? A plastic one at that. Make it make sense, honey.”, she says before glancing back and quickly turning back around.

“Act natural. Be normal, hoe, don’t mess this up!”, she whispers threateningly causing my confusion to deepen. Suddenly, a tall shadow is cast over our table. “Welcome to Denny’s, ladies! I’m Jeon Jungkook, and I’ll be your server today! What can I get for you?”, a smooth and cheery male voice quips causing me to look up. Standing over our table is quite possibly the most handsome male I’ve ever laid eyes on.

He’s tall and muscular in build with a thin waist and thick thighs. His skin is lightly tanned, clear, and brighter than my future. His dark hair is parted revealing his forehead and a slit eyebrow. His doe eyes hold mischief, and his uneven but soft-looking lips are pulled into a slight smirk.

“Hi! We’ll be having two pancake breakfasts, please! Right, (Y/N)?”, Candie asks causing me to look away and nod. “Ok! Would you like them with sausage or bacon?”, he inquires whilst whipping out a small notebook to take our order. He sits it down on the table before leaning down and jotting down words. The sudden closeness brings a whiff of his cologne right into my face. It’s a mix of soft vanilla and masculine aftershave. “Sausage for both of them, right?”, Candie says bringing the servers attention to me. Upon the meeting of our eyes, he raises an eyebrow questioningly with a tilt of his head. I nod with wide eyes before glaring at Candie when he ducks his head down to write more.

“Alright! How do you like your eggs?”, he asks with a wider smirk at his seemingly accidental innuendo. “I’d like mine sunny side up, please! How ‘bout you, bestie?”, my soon to be dead best friend asks whilst feigning innocence. I shrug feeling a little surge of confidence. “I dunno. How do you like your eggs, Jungkook?”, I inquire with an innocent smile. He chuckles before his tongue flicks out across his lips. “Fertilized, but I’m not sure you’d want that. We’ve only just met, doll.”, he replies with a teasing lilt. The tiny amount of confidence I had vanished into thin air at his remark.

I clear my throat before squeaking out, “Scrambled will do just fine.”. He nods before jotting down the order and standing tall again. “I’ll be right out with your order in five minutes! Don’t miss me too much!”, he says with a wink in my direction before leaving in the direction of the kitchen.

*TIME SKIP TO AFTER BREAKFAST*

I sigh in contentment as I sip the last of my Sprite. The meal that I had just feasted on was probably the best one I’d have in a while. I look across from me to see Candie looking like the happy fat ass she is. “That shit was bussin’! We gotta come over here more.”, she says and begins rummaging through her Gucci bag. I remember the day she came overexcited and shouting about some hot blonde who’d bought it for her. Four weeks later she introduced me to Kim Taehyung, her brand-new boyfriend who happened to be the son of a wealthy fashion designer. I’d thought he’d be a snob, but he turned out to be one of the sweetest people I’ve ever met.

“Does Tae know you’re out here tryna hook me up with a stranger? He seemed set on introducing me to that boxer friend of his.”, I ask as I lean forward. Candie looks up, gives me a devious smirk, and continues to go through her bag until she pulls out the black card her boyfriend had given her. As if on cue, our hot waiter comes back. “How were your meals, ladies? I hope it was to your satisfaction!”, he says in that oh-so-smooth voice of his. Candie nods and slides him her card and the checkbook. He shakes his head lightly disrupting his dark curls. “No need! This one’s on me. I paid already, so you can’t say no.”, he informs with a cheeky smirk. “How can we repay you? You’ve been so nice to us!”, Candie inquires after wiggling her eyebrows at me.

“Hmmm… there’s not anything I want. Except for your pretty friends’ number.”, he says as his smirk grows. My heart thunders in my chest at his words. “Oh, so he tryna catch these feelings!”, I think as I watch Candie write my number on his notepad. “There we are! Thanks for the meal!”, Candie says as she finishes writing. “No problem! I’ll call you later on, doll. Ok?”, Jungkook asks causing me to nod in response. He smirks, winks for the umpteenth time, and walks away in the direction of another table. Instead of greeting them with cheery smiles, he gives a blank and very dry “Hello, Welcome to Denny’s.”.

I watch in awe causing Candie to roll her eyes and pull me out of my seat. “Come on, bitch! We got more stuff to do today.”, she says pulling me away after I’ve collected my things. Once we’re outside, a very familiar Mercedes Benz pulls into the parking space in front of us. The cars’ window rolls down to reveal a very cheery and familiar blonde. “Did it work, baby?”, Taehyung asks with hope in his voice. Candie nods excitedly before running over to kiss her boyfriend.

“Umm… what the hell is going on?”, I ask in utter confusion. Taehyung grins widely just as Candie had earlier. “Remember that boxer I told you I was going to set you up with. His name is Jeon Jungkook a.k.a that hot waiter that you just got hooked up with!”, he says. Suddenly, a strong arm comes to rest across my shoulder and a deep, familiar voice meets my ears.

“Change of plans, doll. My shift just ended, and you and I are gonna have some fun!”.

(A/N):

HI, y’all! Sorry it took me so long to add another story! This one was kinda random tbh. I got it from a pick up line abt fertilized eggs or sum...

Anyway! I hope u enjoyed this. Please like, share, and comment your thoughts!

#*birthday #bts #jungkook #kim taehyung #ambw #bts ambw

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dontasktheradiodemon · 4 years

Text

Makeup Session

Follow-up to a discussion (link to part of it) where @sluttyspiderpolkacock agreed to trade some venison sausage to Alastor if he agreed to get in drag. And then this follow-up discussion. So Alastor showed up at Angel’s room to get his makeup done, and also preemptively sulk about the fact that Angel thought he didn’t WANT his makeup done.

Angel

Something felt off. Tone was hard to read through text. It certainly didn't hold a candle to Angel's forte reading the body, but he was nonetheless possessed by conscience to descend the grand stairway to collect the aforementioned head from the freezer. Much as it shook him to his core to be using his precious palettes on the thing ( _mental as well as physical in the sense that he couldn't help feeling Vaggie's same shiver when the eyes locked on him_ ) , the spider found himself blending the finishing touches off a perfect cadaver's smoky eye before reaching for a radio. " Hey Smiles, if ya up, getcha grinnin' mug in 'ere. I got somethin' ta show ya. "

Alastor

Instead of responding, the radio crackles and plays a stanza of a 50s song with a female singer: “* Now if I call him on the telephone, and tell him that I'm all alone, by the time I count from one to four, I hear him knock, knock, knock, knock on my door—*”

Knock, knock, knock, knock. It’s the Radio Demon.

https://youtu.be/MeT9Glm_Jgg

Angel

" Hehe, very cute, Al. " Angel left the radio playing on his vanity and repositioned the head before going for the door. " So I did that practice run ya wanted, " he said lethargically with a flourish toward his station, " Not that I don't do up faces like yours on th' regula', but since ya _insisted..._ " Leaving the door open, he returned to the head and held it up to present his work in the light. " I went an' did it. Ya still game fa this look? "

Alastor

Alastor stepped in just enough for the door—pushed by who-knows-what—to swing shut behind him. He glanced over Angel's makeup station before focusing on the head. "Decided the head was useful after all?" he asked dryly. He glanced over the look—seemed like just smudged eye shadow, mascara, and lipstick, all basic black—and after only a second or two said, "It's fine."

Angel

" Usefu-? Nah, nah this was fa you! " he explained with a pull of his vanity seat to offer, " Bone structure's actually... _not_ that big a deal. With contourin', ya can pretty much create any shape ya want. A course, only within' the ma'gins a ya face, but even then ya can do a helluva lot. I once _completely_ erased my peripheral eyes fa a client. They got definition, but ended up lookin smooth as a bambino's ass. " Angel caught himself rambling with a sigh. Alastor only gave a fuck about the venison. He was wasting his time. _But---_ " ... What I _do_ wanna check out is ya skintone, though. I'd guess youse neutral all th' way through, but since we ain't human anymore an' the inside a the wrist trick ain't so reliable, I'd haveta experiment with ya cheeks. "

Alastor

"I said you could chuck it out if it wasn't useful." He unlatched his hands from where he'd clasped them behind his back, took the offered seat, hooked one ankle over the opposite knee, and sat perfectly straight. Very professional, not terribly welcoming. "I prefer the shape my face currently has."

He glanced at the head again. "Yes, well, that's why I decapitated somebody who matches my complexion." He paused. "I suppose that didn't last after freezing him, though. But how much skin tone matching do you need to do with black eye shadow and lipstick?"

Angel

" Ya ain't up fa foundation? It's beauty base level one, Sweetie, it evens ya out an'... " Angel hummed and took a moment to lean in to judge his skin. " ... Ya know what? Ya don't even need it. Youse one a the lucky ones. Who would a thought ~ ? " With a shrug of his shoulders, he took a knee and pulled a package of wipes from a drawer. " Should clean ya up some, though, just ta make this whole process easier. " He opened them up, a puff of a fresh, sweet scent emanating from the package. " Allow me, uh. " Eyes flickered to his posture. " Or you wanna handle it? " he asked, " No harsh chemicals or anythin', just clean an' good fa ya. "

Alastor

There's the slightest narrowing to his eyes that suggested he wasn't quite sure what "foundation" was, but, whatever it was, he didn't fully trust it.

The squint didn't quite go away when Angel withdrew the option of foundation; but he did offer some actual conversation. "I don't think my skin's entirely natural. Never looked into what's changed about it, though."

He glanced down at the package. "Go ahead." And, after a moment, he uncrossed his leg, leaned forward, and planted his elbows on his knees to give Angel easier access to his face.

Angel

He fluttered a short series of disbelieving blinks, not expecting him to pass any opportunity to take up something easy enough to handle himself. Nonetheless, he put on his professional poker face and started with gentle sweeps from his forehead. " Ok, close ya eyes, " he instructed as he continued.

" Whatcha meanin'? Ya sittin' in front a me while soundin' like youse comin' from a cell tower miles away. Ain't nothin' natural about the lot of us, anyways. "

With that, Angel started looking little more closely for indications of what he meant. " I don't... _think_ there's anythin' weird about it. And that's comin' from a perpetually peach-fuzzed _bitch,_ " he joked, " Ya tellin' me givin yaself a full body once over wasn't the first thin' ya did when ya dropped 'ere? "

Alastor

Alastor tisked to himself at Angel’s surprised blinks; the sound didn’t emerge from his own mouth, but as a click coming out of the still-on radio nearby.

“No, the *first* thing I did was look for pants. But of course examining my body was the second thing.” He shut his eyes obediently. “I mean it doesn’t act quite like skin is supposed to. Not in a way that’s ‘unnatural’ but ‘artificial.’ Doesn’t react to substances it’s supposed to, doesn’t smell like skin—” He made a vague, dismissive gesture. “Natural side-effect of being dead, no doubt. Never you mind. It doesn’t need foundation, I’m sure that’s all that matters.”

Angel

Angel couldn't help blowing a raspberry, but managed to duck and cover in time to avoid any inadvertent spitting.

" Right, _right_! Not _everyone's_ lucky enough ta have long luscious _fluff ~_ " he teased, quickly discarding the wipe before bringing out his choice of liquid liner.

" E'ryone's got their own musk. _Believe me._ Yours ain't the _worst._ If it does anythin' weird with my shit, we'll play it by ear. Open. " Angel uncapped the liner and drew a thin line on the back of his hand for Alastor to see. " This shit didn' come around until the 60s, but it sure beats melting a pencil with a lighter and sufferin' minor burns fa a killer cat eye, " he laughed before motioning for him to close his eyes again via his own.

" Don't worry. Ya good enough not ta need foundation. Ya probably ain't even gonna need much lip, either. Ya smile's gonna be takin' care a most a that. What _I'm_ gonna be havin' fun with _here,_ is givin' ya some pretty dramatic eyes! "

Alastor

“I know I’ve got my own musk. My musk smells like a machine, not a person.” He wasn’t kidding; he smelled like the interior of a secondhand electronics store, all burning dust and hot electrical components. He could hardly ever smell it himself, but he knew his scent.

He examined the liner briefly, then shut his eyes again. “I can handle the lipstick myself, when it comes to that.”

Angel

" Ok! I'll do it with ya so you can copy me, " he asserted, moderately chipper. Angel then habitually reached to steady his chin as he approached the first sweep, but stopped himself in favor of taking the challenge without any unnecessary contact. Instead, he braced an elbow upon his vanity and shut his left eye, as he did while aiming down iron sights. " Ya ever done it before? Or like, watched ya mammina? "

Alastor

“I’ve done it. Not in a while and I’m not quite as good without a stencil, but I’m not a complete embarrassment.” He does an admirable job of holding his head still while talking. “I expect lip stencils aren’t a thing anymore, are they? Can’t recall the last time I saw one.”

Angel

" Perfectin' the cupid's bow ain't no easy feat ~ " he commented as he worked, followed by a chuckle.

" They fell outta practice when people sta'ted realizin' they was mostly fa white chicks who ain't _got any._ _My_ theory is chola liner's some genius _shade_ about it... _Badumtss~_ "

" Can't imagine you'd be able ta see what'cha doin' if ya tried usin a stencil _now_ though, with that huge smile a yours takin' up half ya face! "

Amused with himself, he paused to chuckled a moment before the rest of what Alastor said processed. " _When_ 'ave ya done it before? "

Alastor

“Well, they work just fine on Creole gentlemen, too.” That liner joke is a mix of references a little too specific for Alastor to get, so he let it pass without comment. “No, of course I can’t see what I’m doing smiling like this. Why do you think I’m going to do my own lipstick?”

The corner of his mouth twitched wryly at Angel’s question. “Oh—pfff.” The huff came out as a burst of static as he rolled his eyes up and tried to remember. “Mainly the twenties, some in the forties... smattering of times since then... seventies or nineties or aughts—don’t think I ever did in the eighties. But probably only a dozen times in the last fifty years. Like I said, ‘not in a while.’”

Angel

" I know e'ryone _loves_ the 80s... " he groaned, " Unpopular opinion, but _somethin'_ went pretty fuckin' _wrong_ in that decade... " There's a twang of personal resentment to his tone, sharp as the glinted gold off razor clenched teeth.

" Ok, open up an look up so I can do the bottom. "

Though it disappeared just as quickly as he snickered at his own innuendo, further still as all eight eyes lit up.

" AH! So ya fuckin' DABBLED! What ELSE ya been holdin' out on me with, Al? Ya 'ad fun dickin' with drag? Would ya 'ave done it more if ya 'ad the chance? Figure bein' the fuckin', RADIO DEMON's a full time job, but wit' THAT kin'a title... ain't no one gonna be fuckin' wit' YOU. "

It did occur to him that the lack of frequency would answer his question, but he shoved the logic aside for his own wishful thinking. His fluff started to shimmy with excitement and he halted his work in favor of steadying himself on the ground as he were readying a running start.

Alastor

“I spent the 80s in the 10s. Missed most of it.” He opened his eyes and looked up.

“I’ve done it as much as I’ve cared to.” A shrug. “You know I have a skirt, I’m on the record as having sung a drag queen’s part on a musical album—and yet you’re surprised I’ve done drag? What did you think the skirt was for, flagging down taxis?” He scoffed. “I’m sure you must think I’m just another one of those *tediously* defensive men who have allergic reactions if anything even slightly delicate brushes their skin.” There was an edge to his voice that matched the tenseness in his posture since he’d come into the room.

Angel

" Nah-nah-nah, if youse anythin' it's fuckin' nothin' _I've_ ever known. " Angel smoothed himself out, taking a moment before cursing his season and getting back to work.

" Less than a musical number afte' learnin' youse this Ove'lord level hotshot who ate fuckin' cities fa breakfast, you were in th' kitchen treatin' the whole house ta dinner. If ya gonna kick my ass fa anythin', I know it ain't gonna be fa the same reasons I gotta be watchin' my back on th' streets, Da'lin'. "

He then sat back on his mile-long haunches to judge his handiwork from a distance. " Alright! Step Two's done! Whatcha think? "

Alastor

Alastor regarded Angel skeptically for a moment; but then finally relaxed a bit, some of the tension draining out of his shoulders. “And yet you were so convinced that I was looking for ways to wiggle out of this little meeting.”

He turned toward the mirror, studying the eyeliner. “Fine so far.” After a pause, he added, “You don’t think the smudged eyeshadow is going to be too much on top of my natural eyelid color, do you?”

Angel

" Youse a _dealmaker ~_ " he sang as he collected his shadow pallette, again showing Alastor test strokes on the back of his hand, " Wigglin' through loopholes what th' likes a ya do. Like an art. But th' kind that has fuckin', hidden scary shit subtext in th' background that haunts ya fa decades. An' I wasn't about ta let ya wiggle ya skinny ass outta _THIS~_ "

" I'll... " He scrutinized the shades before settling on a sparse swatch with subtle hints of glitter. " Work off whatcha got. Change a plans. I'm doin' ya lips a da'k red and enhancin' the natural shade a ya lids. "

Alastor

"You're right, I *am* a dealmaker. If I was that opposed to getting a little paint on my face, do you think I would have agreed so readily for nothing but a bit of sausage?" He scoffed again. "I agreed to your terms because there was no downside to them. Congratulations on managing to insert a downside that didn't previously exist in the terms—I wasn't expecting to get publicly accused of being too cowardly to wear makeup."

He eyed the new swatch doubtfully. "Do you have one that's less sparkly? Sparkles aren't terribly... me. I mean," he gestured at his ridiculous red getup, "that's not to say I'm not *flamboyant*—but I'm not *that* kind of flamboyant."

Angel

" Alright, alright, I'm sorry. I'll make it up t' ya an' take ya t' work wit' me sometime. _Not_ ta do wit' whatcha thinkin'. I'll show ya where I been gettin' all my shit, but ya _cannot_ be fuckin' seen. "

His conscience screamed, alarm bells wildly ringing throughout the backstage of his brain.

" New deal? " he asked with a new selection of charcoal grey, " I'm startin' ta think ya deserve better than a single color palette. It'll go with ya- I mean, MY, bowtie. "

Alastor

"*Thank* you!" At the apology, Alastor immediately brightened. "That's hardly necessary—but, I admit, I do wonder what you *are* going to pull out if 'what I'm thinking' has already been ruled out."

Alastor glanced over the newly proposed color and a game show bell dinged his approval. "How many palettes does one need to just cover eyes and lips?"

Angel

" Well, that last venison treat I got from th' street, but at work... we got a lot more where that came from. A candy store fa cannibalistic radio demons, " he joked, " Kiddin'. Specifically _not_ fa cannibalistic radio demons. Unless ya gonna _pay,_ but I doubt ya gonna be interested in th' usual package deal anyways. I'll just take ya in through the back. "

" Close ~ " Angel instructed once again before sweeping his brush, " As many as there are different tastes in th' world, Sweethea't. Not e'eryone's satisfied doin' or wearin' th' same thin' fa all a eternity. It gets _borin' ~ _ "

Alastor

"*Do* you? Maybe I was a little hasty when I decided the porn industry doesn't have anything that would appeal to me!" Laugh track. "I'll take that under consideration."

He closed his eyes. "I can hardly wear all of them at once! And I don't exactly have plans to do this again any time soon."

Angel

" I already introduced ya ta hentai. Am I gonna have ta show you vore, too? " A snicker. His crusade to find Alastor's niche interests had already been put to rest.

" That's a _shame ~_ Guess I better make this count then, ah? Ya gettin' mascara. By th' time I'm done wit' them lashes ya gonna be able ta clear a room wit' a couple bats. "

Alastor

"I've heard that one already! And ever since then, have been haunted by wondering what my rare voluntary victims get out of offering themselves up." He stuck out his tongue, bleh.

"Oh, good. I always enjoy clearing out a room with nothing but my face."

Angel

Angel couldn't help a flurry of giggles as he reached for his go-to wand. The _Radio Demon_ was _cute._

He applied the mascara generously, taking care to smooth out any clumps as he went. Bittersweetly, he sat back and kept himself from nitpicking any details to touch up for the sole sake of drawing out the process.

" Well, there ya 'ave it. The face of a _"Cha'min' Demon Belle"_ in ya _own_ right. Almost. Lemme find ya a bran' new one. Brushes an' applicators I wash, but lipstick goes directly on. "

Alastor

Alastor opened his eyes and leaned in toward the mirror to inspect the results. Angel was better with mascara than him. No surprise, really.

He had a new accent on when he next spoke: "Well! I do declare, you have done a simply *marvelous* job!" It was very much charming demon *Southern* belle, and he'd quite clearly practiced it before. He switched back to his usual voice before continuing: "I don't mind scraping off the last layer of germs with a hankie, it worked fine for us in New York." But he wasn't going to *complain* if he got a fresh one.

Angel

His jaw slacked. Of _course_ the amount of time and attention Alastor must've put into his voice would add up to him being able to pull off such a _sound_ outside his register. Much as Angel tried, he could never get nearly as close to sounding that _feminine,_ clear as a _bell,_ pun intended. He was as much endeared as he was jealous.

" ... _Damn, dude,_ " was all he said on the matter before busying himself with his lipstick drawer. He pulled out his own favorite alongside a brand new burgundy shade, wordlessly breaking the safety seal and tossing the plastic.

" It's all yours. Now look. "

Folding his secondary elbows over the surface of his vanity, he joined Alastor at the mirror and twisted the cap. " Ya can go for whateve' shape ya want. Flat, pointed bow, rounded bow, a shape shorter than ya natural smile that looks like ya got a permanent pout. I like ta call that one th' Betty Boop... "

He flashed his eyes over as he racked his thoughts. " Pointed bow prolly best fa a big smile. They'd round out on they own with ya stretch, " he explained before beginning to draw out the shape on his own lips.

Alastor

Alastor cleared his throat with a rumble of static and winked at Angel. "Still convincing, I hope." Of course it was still convincing. He'd heard himself.

He'd wondered how he was going to make it look good with a smile—he always had trouble with that part. *Pointed* bow. Made sense. He watched closely as Angel demonstrated.

Angel

Angel rolled his eyes. All eight of them. " Yeah-yeah, _that's_ the word. _Convincin' ~_ " He snickered with a wink of his own and made a couple faces in the mirror.

" Yeah, pointed bow'll do it. Don't be afraid ta exaggerate some. It ain't gonna look as ridiculous as ya think it will so long as ya own it. If it ain't feelin right, ya can always take some edge off with a claw. No 'arm done. "

He then rested his chin in his palm to watch him in the mirror. " _Go fa it ~_ "

Alastor

He watched until Angel was done—even copying Angel's hand motions with his own, tracing his tube of lipstick in the air—and then he said, "Got it." He sat back and made a twirling gesture with one finger. "Turn around. No facing me and no facing any mirrors facing me."

Angel

" What- " He rose a brow sky-high. " _Seriously?_ C'mon, man, it's not like ya _strippin'_ in 'ere. " Nonetheless, he obliged with a turn to his bed and a dramatic drop of his face into a pillow before giving Alastor a sextuple thumbs up.

Alastor

Lightly, Alastor said, "Everyone's entitled to their quirks. This one's mine." He waited until Angel was flopped before turning back to the mirror and pursing his lips.

He looked so *tired* when he wasn't smiling. The eye makeup really didn't do anything to hide that. He tried to focus on his lips instead of his eyes, copied the motion Angel had done, and examined the results. It took him a few tries to get an outline that looked alright when he smiled, and then he filled it in. Not bad, he thought. Made his fangs stand out more.

"All right. You can come inspect the results." Alastor glanced at Angel, face down in a pillow, and added, "If you haven't smothered yourself."

Angel

Angel twisted back around, a vague pile of pink striped limbs promptly realigning into a comfortably casual lounge.

" _Hey ~ !_ Not BAD, Mista _Twelve_ Times ~ ! " he complimented with a snap of his fingers, " That's gonna getcha e'rythin' I got left, uh-kay ~ ? "

Folding his arms behind him, he got up and leaned about Alastor on all sides to appreciate all angles of his ( for the most part ) work.

" ... ... Next time ya do anythin' like this, take me wit' ya, ah? "

Alastor

"Even without the skirt?" He'd put the Southern belle voice back on. "Well, bless your heart! Aren't you the generous one?"

He stolidly endured the scrutiny—this was the least pleasant part of the whole process, *the scrutiny.* "It's not something I do often, remember—I don't get much out of it. But if a reasonable opportunity comes up, I'll keep you in mind."

Angel

Angel stepped back with a sheepish laugh, test-stroked hand over his mouth. " Fine, fine, I won't put ya through anythin' else. Ya can 'ave summa my venison wheneva ya want. Youse a good sport ~ "

His many arms then made quick work of cleaning up his vanity. The head could go away later.

" Here, ya can take these, too, " he said with an offer of the rest of the makeup wipes, " Fa after dinner. An' any other time ya feel like freshenin' up. They _do_ work _wonders_ on _blood ~_ "

Alastor

"Do they! How handy." Those were going in... nope, his pockets were currently occupied, that was where he was stowing the glut of spare bow ties he'd suddenly acquired. He dropped the makeup wipes through a little portal, they could hang out in another dimension for now.

Angel

The corners of his eyes rounded wide at the sudden sight. " Didja just...? " Angel vaguely gestured towards the floor, still in the midst of processing what he just saw. " Give my shit ta HENTAI? He even HAVE a face? "

Alastor

Alastor laughed. "I'm sure he'd find some use for them!" He got to his feet; they were about done here, weren't they? "But, no! I've got more than one little dimension I can open up. That one happens to be—well—more or less my travel trunk, I suppose. It has too much in it for me to call it a handbag!" He opened up another small portal and fished out a saxophone. "This wouldn't fit in your average clutch, would it?"

Angel

Angel snorted. Of all the nefarious uses he could've been seeing of his power, he had to witness the storage unit. " Ahh I getcha I getcha ~ " he said as he pulled a pistol from his fluff and fussed with the magazine, " It ain't no entire fuckin', _dimension,_ but pretty damn close. I can fit a _lotta_ shit in 'ere ~ Once shoplifted an entire Christmas dinner! " He then put it away and looked at the portal, a curiously conniving smile stretching his face. Without much thought, he picked up the head, gave it a toss, and dropped to peer into the portal like a wishing well. " ... _Oh shit, it's actually GONE!_ " he exclaimed, eyes sparkling in amusement before his experiment.

Alastor

"Really! Just in your fur, or is there some sort of magic—Wait *don't—*!"

He tried to seal up the portal. It was slightly too slow to keep the head from falling in. He stared aghast at the point where the portal had been, then glowered at Angel. "You don't see me chucking half-thawed meat into *your* wardrobe!" He opened a smaller portal again on Angel's vanity, leaned over to peer in, then played an annoyed buzz as he sealed up the portal and opened a new one in midair just above eye-level so he could reach up into it from below. "If I have to take everything out to clean it, you're helping."

Angel

" I like ta call it _AbracaBIMBO-!_ " The spider erupted into a flurry of giggles and raspberries, arms clasping his stomach as he rolled on the ground. " I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I wasn't thinkin'! I just! 'AD TA TRY IT! " Swiping his tears, he looked up into the portal and sprung up. " Wait, that leads t' ya closet?? I'LL GET IT! " Angel then shoved his head and primary arms into the space and began fishing for leverage to pull himself through.

Alastor

Alastor grabbed Angel's shoulders to jerk his head down out of the portal, but the portal wasn't quite high enough and Alastor wasn't quite tall enough to keep Angel's arms out of it. "Either you remove your arms now, or I fish them out in an hour so the doctors can try to reattach them to your stumps. Your choice." The portal narrowed threateningly.

Angel

" What's the big _secret_? " he echoed into the void before popping his head out, " Ya said you'd make me help ya _clean!_ What's the big idea wit' not lettin' me sneak a peek _now ~ ?_ " Angel almost whined. Singular ( and he presumed inadvertently _punk_ ) as the Radio Demon's fashion sense _seemed_ to be, if he kept a skirt in there, the curiosity surrounding whatever else he could he stowing into an endless void all but _killed him._

Alastor

"And if you tell an acquaintance he'll help you clean your room, does that mean you'll hand him items and tell him where to put them, or does it mean you'll give him *carte blanche* to pull open all your drawers and paw around in them?" The portal sealed shut and reappeared on the other side of the room; the lights dimmed briefly as Alastor called up one of his shadows to dig around for the head instead. Apparently it wasn't safe to keep it within arm's reach (or throwing distance) of Angel.

Angel

" _Cart lunch-?_ " His brow tweaked but his eyes rolled shortly after. He's got to be the cagiest person he ever met. " Alright, alright, _jeeze,_ " he groaned as he folded both sets of arms, " So if I get outta the _Acquaintance Zone, **then**_ could I see ya closet? " Angel posed the question with air quotes, resigning himself to the fact that he'd either have to start controlling his second nature assholery, or make apologizing to him a habit. Neither sounded fun, but the latter sounded painful. Much _more_ painful.

Alastor

"*Carte blanche.* Permission." Alastor considered the question for a long moment. "No."

The shadow pulled out the head. With a gesture from Alastor, it threw it down on the bed. "What did it land on?"

The shadow half pulled out a wire laundry basket full of books (which now also contained the face wipes). Several disembodied voices muttered disapproval as Alastor facepalmed.

And then immediately un-facepalmed to make sure he hadn't smeared any makeup on his glove.

Angel

Narrowed eyes and pursed pout, Angel merely watched the head land. It wouldn't have been the grossest thing on his sheets. He'd start caring again if Fat Nuggets woke up and started nosing it.

" What? I get blood on ya diaries? " he teased, " Ya got a whole fuckin' secret dimension in there. Why don'tcha keep books in a, _I dunno, **bookshelf**_ instead a a _laundry basket?_ "

He was one to talk, having repurposed every possible thing in his room as a hanger.

Alastor

Alastor gestured demonstratively at the shadow, which pulled the top book out of the basket: a massive tome bound in black hide, held closed with three locks, and sporting an eyeball on the cover that looked alarming like one of Alastor's. The eyeball blinked and rolled around until it fixed on Alastor and Angel. "*Yes,* actually." Alastor gesture dismissively; the shadow dropped the book in the basket again and shoved it back into its separate dimension. "Because bookcases are harder to haul in and out of a small portal than baskets and boxes."

Angel

Angel blinked intermittently. He was running out of feet to eat. " ... Took ya mo'e fa a talker than a writer, " he commented dryly, eyes gluing to the floor as he pondered just how much of a _jerk_ he could be even when he wasn't actively _trying._ He drummed his fingers over his arm. _Questions, apologies, questions, apologies._ He was beginning to tire _himself_ out as he spaced and spiraled into his lack of grace. He couldn't hear a thing for a hot second.

Alastor

"I am. But talk is temporary, and some things need to be recorded. Recipes, rituals, messages..." Had Alastor managed to shame Angel? Give him a moment to bask in the awkwardness. Ah yes, this was where he was at home: making people uncomfortable.

Then he broke the silence. "Lucky for you, that particular book happened to be the only one in the basket that *likes* blood."

Angel

" ... 'Scuse th' FUCK outta me: _what?_ " He was conflicted as to whether he was more relieved or _disturbed._ Now his brain isn't going to be able to rid itself of the thought of certain inanimate objects _also_ enjoying his pain for a good while. " Ya feed ya feelin's _blood?_ " A second too late he realized he was stating the obvious.

Alastor

"Not *often,* no; but it helps keep its skin supple and rejuvenates some of the wards running inside." He shrugged, like this was a totally normal and not at all weird thing to say about a book.

Angel

" Wa'ds like- _oh,_ " he pieced. Literal bloodbaths in the spa were no secret. That much made sense to him. " So, uh... welcome? " Angel smacked on a wide, hopeful grin that left his eyes.

Alastor

"Ha! No, you're not winning points for this. Consider yourself lucky it wasn't leaking and didn't land on something more delicate." He gestured toward the door. "Now, before we have any more mishaps?"

Angel

" Ya can't blame _me,_ ya walkin' _Funhouse a' Horrors,_ " he scoffed with a strut towards the door. He opened it with a deep flourish, completely forgetting about the rotting head in his bed. " Afte' you. "

Alastor

"I can, I should, and I will."

Was Angel just going to leave that there? Well, if he'd forgotten about it, far be it for Alastor to remind him. He swept out the door past Angel, pulling his belle voice on again to say, "Such a gentleman!"

Angel

Chuckling, Angel canted his head to watch the demon walk out before turning back to his room.

" Be good, Nuggsie! I'll feed ya afte'- _oh fuck._ "

With about the same amount of thought as before, Angel swept the head out the window with a calculated rond de jambe before taking after Alastor.

Alastor

And off to get his hard-earned sausage.

#chat log #sluttyspiderpolkacock

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