Work Text:
A lot of things didn’t tend to affect Charlie with her blinding positivity burning away all criticisms and doubt she should face. And in the times when her happy-go-lucky attitude didn’t help, she had her faithful, lovely girlfriend to support her. So yes she could be a bit naive and oblivious as the princess of hell and the only demon to have a bleeding heart, giving everyone second chances. A mindset that definitely did not belong in hell.
But on the occasions that something affected Charlie, it was always something big that had a lasting impact. Take example of Angel Dust’s situation. The day she found out how her friend was being treated was also the day she was forced to face another side of reality. That sometimes having good intentions isn’t enough and could only do more harm than good. And while Angel had accepted her sobbing apologies, there were days when she still felt extremely guilty that he most likely got hurt more no thanks to her.
With that lesson engraved into her memories, Charlie found herself conflicted. The depiction of Alastor, her faithful hotelier’s face, his whole image, being held together by glowing green thread. Stitches inching every part of his body, holding his limbs together like some rag doll. Like some voodoo doll.
While it matched his powers and background, the smile was what threw her off. The image of that glowing green thread stitched along his lips, curling it into a smile unsettled Charlie. Because if she concentrated hard enough, Charlie could remember seeing that the stitches went beyond his lips. Beyond his cheeks, beyond his eyes and all the way around like a stitched on mask. As far as she knew, voodoo dolls only had stitches along the joints and mouth. Maybe even over an eye like with Vaggie.
Charlie knew she should leave it alone. To forget that memory and bury it under the good ones. Alastor would most likely not take kindly to Charlie poking around in his personal life. He could barely stand letting anyone too close to him or questioning his absence. That detail was also something Charlie thought fleetingly on occasions but decided it wasn’t any of her business. But now Charlie desperately wanted to find out if the stitchings were just what Alastor was spawned into or if there was another reason.
Alastor viewed smiles as a sign of strength. A shield to hide his intentions. Maybe he stitched his smile himself. It wouldn’t be hard to believe knowing his pain tolerance. A needle and magical invisible thread was nothing to the literal cracking of his bones and burns of cooking catastrophes. Or maybe someone else did it.
That made Charlie sick to her stomach, holding back the bile threatening to crawl out at the idea of someone forcibly pinning Alastor down to stitch on a smiling mask.
Charlie had already attempted to find out if Alastor’s smile was stitched by going through Husk and Niffty. Both sinners either didn’t know anything or refused to share. Husk just grumbled about Alastor being a smiling freak of an asshole and that the bastard probably did it himself. It sounded like an Alastor thing to do. Niffty wasn’t much more help even with how close she was to the overlord. The cyclops just crowed on about how much of a bad boy her boss was if he had stitched on his permanent smile. If it wasn’t about that, it was her gushing about how he humored her puppet shows and how he was the best King roach she had the honor to meet. And in the end, they just both said the same thing.
“He’s always had that smile.”
And when Charlie asked if there were the same green stitches that appeared when they made their deals, both said no. That he just went all radio and staticky, glitching in and out despite not being on a camera. That made the princess even more determined to find out. There had to be a reason that Alastor showed it to her and not anyone else. It couldn’t have been him having less power as it’s well known he had raw potential ever since he first spawned in. Alastor was a powerful mortal soul, proving that he wasn’t the hunted but the hunter.
Vaggie of course believed that it was self-made too. Of course Charlie didn’t expect anything less but it still just dawned on her how much it seemed like she was the only one who cared. That Alastor could disappear for another seven years and they’d throw a party. Well…maybe not Niffty. While she may care in her own chaotic way, she was far more focused on her boss being the ultimate bad boy. And now it stacked onto the possible reasons Alastor showed his stitches to her and not his lackeys. He knew they wouldn’t care but Charlie, the ever bleeding heart of a demon, would. Even if it wasn’t true, it was the notion that maybe Alastor trusted her as she did him that fueled the nephilim to uncover the secret. Even if she had to go to the direct source.
Angel wasn’t much help as he was a demon Alastor detested the most. It was times like these that Charlie wished Angel would just respect Alastor’s boundaries and stop making unnecessary innuendos of the deer demon. Knowing Alastor’s identity thanks to Rosie only made Charlie cringe even more with each remark and twitch of the eye from Alastor. Maybe she should talk to Angel about Alastor’s unknown sexuality. For now, she needs to decide whether to take matters into her own hands or leave it be.
Charlie didn’t bother to talk to her dad about Alastor, knowing how much the angel would complain about why she cared so much for an evil soul and she didn’t want to deal with that now. So, direct source it was. She was going to question Alastor and based on his actions and twisting words, figure out if it was stitched on by himself or someone else, or if it was just a hand to his voodooism. She was determined to help if things turned out the way she thought it would.
Ignoring the protests of her friends, Charlie focused on the golden scissors in her hands. Scissors that would cut through anything. Even something as flamboyant as magic. With a determined look, Charlie headed upstairs to her hotelier’s room. The princess paused right outside the door, taking in deep breaths to mentally prepare for the anger she’d might unleash. But Alastor could be suffering and she’d be damn if another friend got even more hurt in the end.
With three sharp knocks, Charlie waited patiently for Alastor to answer. There was nothing but silence before Charlie could hear a loud crash from within and what sounded like glass breaking. Lastly were a string of jumbled curses bathed in static. Alarm bells immediately went off in the princess’s head as she tried the handle.
It was locked.
Goddamnit. Damn Alastor and his rightful need for privacy. Scrabbling for her keys, Charlie picked through them to find the one to Alastor’s room, announcing her presence.
“I’m coming in!”
There was what sounded like another string of garbled curses with a few words of Alastor asking her to stay back. But she wouldn’t. She couldn’t. Something was terribly wrong and she feared she might be too late.
Along with Charlie’s observation of the deal’s effects on Alastor, she had started to notice her friend isolating more. And it happened after they made their deal so there had to be a connection. Sure Alastor didn’t socialize too much but he always came down if he didn’t have outside business to attend to. But she and the other Hazbins haven’t even seen a tailcoat of their elusive hotelier.
Throwing the mahogany door open, Charlie could only catch the glimpse of a raggedy creature before the lights cut out. Charlie took a careful step in, knowing there was a chance of broken glass covering the carpeted floorboards. Suddenly a hand grabbed her forearm, keeping her from proceeding any further. Looking behind her, Charlie was met with Husk shaking his head.
Charlie was surprised, not having realized the others had followed her. Most seemed to be there to protect her from Alastor if the spear Vaggie was brandishing defensively were anything to go by. Angel stepped forward with a flashlight in hand, clicking it on. It was a small source of light but enough to tread the room safely. Sweeping the room with the yellow light, the crew were met with pieces of glass scattered across the room, Charlie quickly realizing they were mirror shards. In the center of the room was a broken cathedral radio, crackling and popping.
There was a rustle sound of something or some one shifting and attempting to move quietly. Angel whipped the light over to the sound, a loud static hiss being the response. Charlie covered her mouth, barely able to hold back the bile of her breakfast hiking back to whence it came.
A feral faun was crouched before them, antlers enlarged so much Charlie was shocked it could hold the weight. It was undoubtedly Alastor but he was hardly recognizable by the looks. The only hints of it being him were the radio dials for eyes and green stitches glowing bright against his body. Wounds down to the bone were fresh and open, blood dripping down into a puddle, Alastor’s body desperately mending itself back together. Claw marks raked down his face, more blood oozing out like he had just had his head buried in a carcass. Thick strands of his hair were out, the follicles slowly regrowing to prevent bald spots. Alastor was a lot more animalistic with his true features coming to light.
Charlie was sick. Sick to see her friend in such a state. Sick to see the bones from the wounds and the prominent figure of his ribcage hidden by a thin stretch of skin. He looks so sick. A starved beast ready to fight even as cornered as it was.
Now everyone could see what she was so concerned about. They could see the green stitches circling Alastor’s whole face. A permanent smiling mask. Without thinking, Charlie grabbed the flashlight out of Angel’s hand and rushed over. Just a few feet away did Alastor snarl, faking a lunge that stopped the princess in her tracks.
“Alastor,” Charlie calls, voice barely above a whisper.
“̶̧̛̗̦̲̗͈̯̩̿̀̊́͆̽͋̇͝Ḑ̸̛̬̺̱͙̼͇͚̠̝̣͚̻͉̭͎͒́̈́̌̑̓͗ǒ̴̩͕̘̏̾̒̀͒́̎̔̍̋̈̎͐n̸̡͕̲̯̜̣̖͗͆͠’̷̨̛̜̹̳̤̼̰̖͕̯͕͖̏́̂̍̆̾̆̌̕̕̚ţ̶̛̖̤͉̫̳̟͉̈̄̄̈́͘,̴̨̢̹̮̭̱̦̮̪͖̤̯̰̻̾͗͑̿̓̚̚͝͝ͅ”̶̢̨͇̪̭͍͖̜̲͐̀͂̂̍ Alastor growled, word barely comphrehensable with the filter.
“̵̖̪͙̲̥͗̒̀̅̅̅͑̈́̚͠D̶̡͔̠̻̣͎̼̮̤̖͙͊̒͌̽͊͜ö̷͔͎̹̜͖̺͔͗͑̉̈̃̔̓̆̓̈́̒͂̅̑̃̚ņ̶̥͍̪͉̥̜̄̀̆̒̾͛̓̔̃͘͝͠ͅ’̶̢͕̥̙̳̹̪̪̰͓͓̭͔̽̉ṱ̸̨͕͈̖̼̬̭̞̜̼̣̺͍͈̘̽̈͜ ̶̧̛̪͍͓͔̣͍̦̞̭̦̞̘̬̣͉̃̈͛̈́͌ͅċ̵̹͍̠̘̉̕͜o̸͕͙̫̤͔̩͍̗̹̭̯̯̲̤͙͕̙̔̈́̅͗̊͒͑́̓m̸̢̢̝̖̱̝̺̹͎͕̘̻̫̦̜̈́̽̈̒͛̏́̓̎͌͗̄̏̃͜͝ͅë̷͙͚̪͎̟̭̲̳̞̙̝̏̄̑͂͗͒͗̈́͘ͅ ̶̡̫̥̻̝̗̮̲̪̻͔̜̏̈́̍̅̈́̚͜͝ͅc̷̢̢̨͇͈̬̯͈̲̅͌̓̂̌̀̈́͝͝l̴̡̖͎̟̦̞̹̫̥̎̽̆͌́̅̓̇͝o̶͇̫̪̹͆̾̀͌̎̂̐̈́̽͐̈́̈̒͘s̶̼͈̜̖͕̮̰͖͕̤͈̜͚͌̀̇̈̈́̈́͌́̒̓͘ḛ̸̡̧̛͇̺͓̖̬̭̜͕͓̯̳̻̯̇̔̏͋̌r̵̡̨̦̝̺̬̗͇̪͎̜̤̫̣̍̓̔̌͜͝.̶̨̧̪̼̻̣̗̭̬̼͍̮̤̲͗͜ͅͅ”̸̠̠̥͖̭̯͉̫͙̞͔̖͗́͒̉̈͛̇͆̽̕̕
“Alastor, please. I just wish to help.”
Charlie inched closer, sinking to her knees in an attempt to calm Alastor. An attempt to calm a wounded animal. Alastor doesn’t react other than the sharp, scalding glare, but it didn’t deter the princess. He needed help.
“Your smile is stitched on isn’t it? Did you do it yourself?” Charlie asks, carefully crawling forward and backing the faun into the bayou. She had to be careful in case he ran off into the dimension, leaving her no hope to find him.
“I̸̞̥̺͇̘̝̞͔̔̕ ̷͎͓̳̖̭̽̒͌͊́̕d̶̨̰̖̗̠̯̮͋͜ỉ̵̞͔̜̮̺̯̦ͅd̵̫͉̭͙̋̾͋͠.̵̡̣͇̜̈́̈́̃̒,” Alastor answers, filter a bit less intense.
“You did? You did your whole face?”
Alastor growls, ears pinned tight against his skull. The turned sinner’s eyes slowly ticked back into his usual eyes, revealing that he wasn’t meeting Charlie’s eyes. He never did that. He was lying.
“Al…you don’t need to lie. I can cut it for you.”
The overlord’s eyes widen as he glances at Charlie, a glimmer of something akin to hope darted across his pink eyes. It disappeared as soon as it came, Alastor shaking his head frantically.
“N̶͈̫̏ợ̸ ̴͍̬̓͊n̵̠̺̍e̵͈̓e̴̤͌ḍ̷͠ ̴̜̂̎Ć̷̣h̶̬̪̉̌a̵̢̤̒͝r̴̡͊͌l̴͔͑i̸̙̿͆e̴͈͋.̸̖͛ ̶͙̱̐͊I̶̲̚ ̵̯̄̑d̵̝̉ĭ̵̧͔̏d̸͇̈́͆ ̷̯̑͘t̸̻͉́̅h̴̳̙̕ḭ̴̲̈s̷̙̒ ̸̰̭͌t̸̫̖͆̚o̷͇̻͊̕ ̷͕̀m̵͙̿̅ÿ̷͚͍́̀ș̸̋ė̸͔̳͝l̶͈̩̎f̵̫̥̍.̵̧̻̋̑”
Charlie chewed on her bottom lip before getting closer, Alastor flinching but not bolting. His words did not match his body language. Charlie pulls out the golden scissors, catching the sinner’s attention. He shook his head frantically but didn’t move an inch to escape. He wanted this.
Charlie pauses a foot away, levitating the scissors. Maneuvering it forward, she carefully started snipping the threads. Alastor closes his eyes, body relaxing for the first time during the whole ordeal as the scissors shrank to wriggle under the threads connecting his skin. With the last snip, Charlie inhaled sharply as a mask fell away.
The princess wasn’t sure what to expect but it definitely wasn’t that there was an actual mask stitched onto Alastor’s face. All that was revealed were relaxed, almost frowning lips. Alastor’s deer features were in clear view, giving the sinner younger, tired features. From the faint white freckles and black nose, Alastor’s face was less flat and humanoid, making it clear that he had more of a snout.
He was just a fawn.
Alastor opened his eyes to reveal that they were a bit larger, the colors bright and youthful, but the bags under them said otherwise. To think that someone stitched a new face, a new person to her friend devastated Charlie. A smile really could hide a lot.
“Alastor,” Charlie started, only to be cut off by strong arms wrapping around her neck.
With a yelp, the princess found herself leaning against the firm chest of Alastor, his body trembling and shaking a bit. It took her a moment to realize he was crying when a hot wetness soaked through her shirt and to her shoulders. With a soft smile, Charlie went to return the hug, letting Alastor come in contact with her hands in case he didn’t want the hug reciprocated.
“Thank you, Charlie.”
”Of course, Al. You deserve to be happy. Truly happy.”
Direct link here