Chapter Text
“Charlie do any o’ these meetin’s have ta happen at six fuckin A.M? It’s evil.” Angel groaned. Face down on the table, the spider was nursing a second coffee, after chugging the first like a man dying of thirst.
Once more, the Hotel patrons had found themselves gathered around a sleep-deprived Charlie. She was standing in front of a new whiteboard covered in an offensive amount of colour and positivity for the time of day she was presenting it.
When Charlie had rapped on his door, Alastor had been lost in his own methodology. For a while he had been wanting to teach Bot how to manage some of the more exotic and temperamental plants in the bayou and the Hotel garden, and he had chosen today to make a start. The interruption was not particularly welcome but there was no reason he couldn't delay the lesson again if it still took place in the day.
Thankfully at least, the Princess had allowed this meeting to happen in the kitchen rather than one of the official meeting rooms, and having been the first to arrive, Alastor had made a start on feeding everyone.
Alastor looked over the drawings with mild curiosity. Knives had been called to take over cooking while Charlie went through her ideas, and breakfast items were being produced just as fast as they were being consumed.
For once, Angel seemed to have a point, the surrounding faces were exhausted, and clearly unfocused.
“Well, I just wanted to give you guys enough time to think about this one. I think you’ll all really enjoy it!” Charlie gave Angel a reassuring smile, which he answered with a long, dramatic yawn and a ‘subtle’ eye roll.
Charlie laughed awkwardly, before carrying on. “Soo, I’ve been thinking, and I know that some people here are into fashion! Since you’re all from different time periods, I thought it’d be fun to run a little bit of a competition, and see which era had the best dress. Sound fun?”
Her speech sped up as she talked, seeing the lack of engagement from, well, most of her audience.
Angel, however, suddenly perked up, leaping at the opportunity. “Wait wait wait, we can wear anythin’?”
Alastor narrowed his eyes, but luckily, Charlie intervened. “Haha, uh, no. It has to be something you would wear to…a party or an event. Something nice.”
Angel groaned, “Finneeee, what’s da prize?”
Cheeky bugger, Alastor thought. Not everything needs a-
“The prize is that you get to choose the next outing for the Hotel!” Curses. The spider lurched up as though he’d had a firecracker shoved into his shorts, rushing off to find his somewhat decent clothing, yelling ‘oh FUCK YES AL’S DOIN BDSM’ As he went.
“I WILL REMIND YOU DEAR,-” Alastor called. Angel turned his head to grin over his shoulder “-of what happened the last time you asked me to punish you…”
Angel cursed, and continued up the stairs at a slower pace. Cherri followed suit, demanding details and asking about merging wardrobes for better options as she brought out her phone, presumably to update their silly little group chat and the missing serpent.
Several others hadn't moved, Alastor being one of them.
“Al? You sure you don't wanna try, your outfits are…well, really nice!” Alastor saw Bot at the top of the stairs, hesitantly waiting for him to resume their lesson. He couldn’t just keep delaying the damned thing over and over, it clearly took a toll on the little one and he really did want her out and spending time with the others.
Though the terrarium had helped her lack of void time, her time with the others wasn’t nearly as much as he’d hoped. She still preferred plants to her peers.
“Regrettably, your highness, there are other commitments that I must tend to today. So, no, I will not be attending this time.” Charlie pouted, but didn’t fight it, instead sitting back down and murmuring suggestions to Vaggie on what to wear.
Well, that wouldn’t do. “Ah, ah, dear. You mustn’t interfere if your partner will be in attendance. A judge cannot be biased.”
The princess looked frustrated for a moment, before her eyes got that dangerously hopeful glint Alastor despised. “AL! You could be a judge if you don’t wanna dress up! Then you have plenty of time to do your things, and you don’t have to worry about getting an outfit!”
Charlie had a point, and it was much harder to argue with her once an idea with logic was lodged into her hyperactive little brain.
However, the logic that she would be biased toward Vaggie, didn't seem to have tipped the idea that he himself would be biased against Angel Dust and her Father.
What a remarkably easy way to ensure he wasn't subjected to the spider's perversions and ensure that the king didn't choose to participate more than necessary in the future.
Though absent from the meeting, he was sure the ridiculous king would be more than happy to wear something that suited his personality. Hopefully this would mean the abomination could be short-lived.
Feigning tutting, he nodded once, before sending a tentacle to take Bot’s hand and turn her around, the little one having made it down a few of the stairs.
“Keep in mind I may be late. The lilies need to be properly kept away from Nom, and need several measures of maintenance.” Charlie let out a delighted shriek, and he quietly groaned, his ears ringing slightly.
Ah, well. At least he didn’t have to put himself on display. He chose when he performed thank you very much.
He shadow-stepped up to the top of the stairs and offered a hand to Bot. His smile grew ever so slightly affectionate as he addressed her.
“Now, dear, would you like to get started?”
Bot nodded slowly, and he lifted her onto his hip for the walk back to his room, too much time had already been wasted this morning to allow for the extended patience of letting her walk herself.
He was quite intent on finding a way to get everything done in time to prepare his arguments for everyone losing. No winner meant no one got to choose another activity.
—
“I will skin you for this insolence!!” The walls shook as green cracks lit the room dimly, Angel’s expression shocked but not scared. Husk ducked behind the bar with a quiet ‘fuck this I’m out’, and Lucifer suppressed a snort.
Alastor had mentally chosen a different suit that he would wear for the judging. It would take but a moment to be sure it was in good shape. It turned out though, that the particular outfit could not be used. In fact, it wasn’t in his wardrobe, full stop. Instead, there was a post-it note on the hanger it usually occipied, reading:
‘borrowed this random suit, ill give it back after the comp since ur not doing it :)’
in Angel’s scruffy, grammatically incorrect handwriting.
He tracked the irritant to the lobby. There the spider stood, in his suit, having already spilled a bit of breakfast onto the crisp white shirt. Suppressing his rage as Bot clutched the shears tightly, he grit his teeth together, the ominous glow casting shadows onto his face as he walked toward the accursed nuisance.
“When did I give you permission to raid MY personal belongings, Angel?” Angel seemed to have a death wish, because he sighed as if he were the problem, and took his phone from the jacket’s pocket.
“Look, Smiles, I heard Charlie mention youz was gonna be the judge, an I like yer style. I thought ya wouldn’t mind if I…magpied a bit. Besides, ya ain't gonna compete, so why waste it?” Alastor took a long, hard look at him, before a puff of golden smoke filled the space between the pair. Of course.
“Heyyyy, Bambi! Proving me right about you being an asshole. Sinners steal things all the time. I really don't know what you expected.”
Alastor didn’t stop the frustrated growl he let out, tugging a clump of his hair in frustration.
“Not that it’s any of your business, but our dear friend Angel has decided that he is comfortable enough to flout my privacy, your Highness. I’m just reminding him of Charlie's lessons on boundaries. Violently.”
Lucifer scoffed, before laughing a little.
“Seriously? You’re mad about a shitty suit? Wow. I can make you another if it bothers you that much.”
“Of sub-par quality no doubt.” Alastor seethed, about to shove Lucifer’s bloody attitude where the sun didn’t shine, when he stopped.
“You know what? Nevermind, Angel. Do with it as you please, but…” he produced a pair of business cards. “Here are the details for my dry cleaner, I want it properly cleaned before you return it, and the address for my tailor if you fuck up enough to require it.”
“Whateva ya say, Smiles!” Angel took the cards and wisely fled.
Lucifer watched him go with a small frog-blink, before turning back to Alastor. His eyes were narrowed, but Charlie called to him before he could comment, and he gave him one last glance.
“You know what? Sure. Not my job to deal with freaky bellhops.” And with that helpful comment, he made a point of dragging his heels as he walked, scuffing the carpet. Rude. Niffty would notice and be very unimpressed.
Putting aside the thought for the moment, he grabbed a few of the fabrics he’d intended to gift Rosie for her birthday, deciding to make it up to her at a later date. He set them out on the bed, and, once satisfied, summoned Ami.
“Mon Ami, would you be so kind as to summon…” he pulled the family photo out and found the one he needed “this one?” Ami nodded, disappearing for a moment before reappearing, this time with the desired moppet.
Even still, he was clutching a small scrap of the fabric received on Sinsmas, gripping it as if Alastor intended to snatch it right from his hands.
“While your fabric is delightful, I thought you might prefer to use mine for this.” He visibly relaxed, though the grip remained tight.
“I don't have the time to put together an outfit, and you seem to enjoy… decorating yourself-” he gestured to the stolen scarf “and colourful fabrics. So, I’d like you to enter the princess' little contest. I believe that sewing kit you have pilfered from the lobby has a measuring tape, and if you would like to choose a style from-” he summoned a large catalogue of vintage clothing “here… then I feel certain I can source a pattern for you at a reasonable scale.”
His eyes widened hopefully, surveying the available fabric carefully. Small, cautious hands ran across each material, surveying texture, tones, any factor would create desirable or disastrous results while comparing each to the displayed outfits.
“Of course you are welcome to simply improvise.” A distracted nod was given, the only indication of understanding he’d likely receive. Both the supplier and the shadow spectated the evaluation, each new roll chosen showing clear understanding of both the needs of the event, and his master’s own style.
It was impressive, he had to admit. Seeing such a professional handling, the slow, precise approach to every aspect of the process, and from such a small, uneducated (to his knowledge) little minion. It proved to be quite the shock.
Perhaps he could make use of Rosie to train the moppet on tailoring, then all his minions could be dressed to the nines, and he could have his repairs done in house. It would reduce the need to find someone of proper skill if the sinner he normally had adjust his suits were to be exterminated. Of course he would then have to allow this one to be borrowed for Rosie's projects too.
For the moment, he needed this potential focused on the current endeavour.
“I have some work to do with Bot now, dear. Do let me know if you need anything.”
The moppet nodded, transfixed as he picked up his Sinsmas thread and started trying to poke it through the fabric.
…without a needle.
Ah. Alastor quickly supplied one, and he began poking with only the needle. He sighed and threaded it for him while he watched intently.
“You need to thread it, darling. That’s how you make clothes, you sew them together. The thread is a tiny string that ties the pieces together. Here you try threading the needle like I did.”
Alastor watched as the moppet struggled. He supposed he shouldn't have expected perfection on the first try.
This was taking rather too long though. He really did have to get back to Bot. Perhaps he should see if Rosie could spare some time…
He jotted a quick note, summoned Fetch, and told him who to give it to. A portal was promptly ripped open and a very excited creature exited.
A minute or so later, Alastor was surprised that the rug remained free of skid marks as Fetch bolted through and stopped suddenly, jamming a reply into his knee repeatedly.
“Alastor,
If one of your little darlings has style and razamataz, then I would love to help!
Things are quiet today.
Send them over darling.
Rosie. x”
“Well then” he said to the moppet. “Rosie will be able to help you with some skills. Razamataz… you know, I think is a marvellous name for a creature with such pizzaz. What do you think? Raz for short?”
The moppet hopped up gleefully.
“Wonderful. Fetch, go with him. Do as Rosie tells you, do not embarrass me.”
—
A few hours later, the moppet was grinning ear to ear, so to speak, twirling around in the tiny outfit he had made. The blazer was a glittery purple, with tinselly green threads, and it was paired with the moppets usual scarf, draped across their back as if a rudimentary cape or shawl.
Alastor decided not to comment on the lack of clothing below the waist since most of his moppets wore nothing at all.
He could also see several places where the stitching was loose, and the tailoring wasn't the best in terms of fit. It was wearable though, and had buttons, lapels and a top pocket. It appeared that Rosie had indeed allowed the creature to do all of the work as he had asked.
For a first effort, the fact that he could even wear it was astonishing. Producing something so complex, even poorly, was certainly praiseworthy.
His chest felt quite warm. A strange, choking sensation that bloomed from his ribs to his extremities as would an electric shock. Perhaps this was how his mama felt when he showed off things he had made as a child. She always said she liked his homemade cards more than whatever rancid perfume his father tossed at her on special occasions.
Thinking back, the vast majority of his handmade gifts had to have been terrible craftsmanship. He was glad that he had made up for it with the gift of her freedom from her abuser, even if she wouldn't have known it was from him.
He was snapped from the moment as a sharp knock rang through the room, and he checked the time, seeing the event was due to be set up. Gathering his things, he gave a quick ‘behave for Ami, I’ll see you when the show starts, dear!’, and promptly opened the door to an anxious Charlie, walking alongside her and shutting the door.
He didn’t see the moppet pick up the needle again, this time utilising the measuring tape from his sewing kit and climbing up to Ami’s shoulders.
—
Alastor boredly tapped his pen against the neon pink notebook he was supposed to judge in, waiting for the start of the event. The set up had been long, laborious and slow, and by the end of it, Alastor was ready to make this as quick as possible. Charlie had decided she wanted to take part as well, and having dashed off to put on her own outfit, Alastor had been left alone to wait for the starting signal.
“Okay, everyone ready to start?” Charlie’s voice came through from ‘backstage’ (there had been a curtain and a rudimentary catwalk set up), and a few monotonous murmurs followed, Alastor himself fixing his posture ready for his role.
Of course Lucifer was the first out, sporting a hideous, custard-yellow suit, complete with an extravagant hat and a short yellow feather decorated cape that was pinned to the sleeves. His cane had been modified to a matte gold.
He struck a few poses at the end of the catwalk with a confident smirk.
Alastor looked him up and down.
“The queen really did have her work cut out to manage your wardrobe. It's such a shame she isn't around to correct your appalling taste.”
“Fuck you Bellhop.” Lucifer crossed his arms and glowered. “She didn't dress me”
“Really?” Alastor asked “none of your more ostentatious outfits mysteriously vanished? Nothing went to be dry-cleaned and never returned to the closet? There wasn't anything at all put into storage for ‘a few weeks’ while some spring cleaning happened that you forgot about”
Lucifer had fire on his eyes but didn't speak for a moment. Surely he wasn't thinking over his past and connecting some dots? He huffed and didn't deny it.
“Well I suppose the way to win this best dressed contest was obvious.” Lucifer snapped his fingers and was suddenly dressed in a perfectly rescaled version of Alastor's clothes. “There. Perfect score right?”
“Wonderful outfit, sire. But you did not put it together. I'm afraid I have to accept your first entry. Don't worry about changing back into it, I suffered enough seeing it the first time.”
“Oh yea? Perhaps if you wear something incredible you'll be able to tell the difference. Lucifer snapped his fingers again and Alastor felt the king's magic wash over him. He looked down to see yellow sleeves and could guess what the king had done.
Lucifer walked off the stage to sit in one of the chairs beside it, muttering to himself and tapping his cane annoyingly. Alastor, in return, opened the assigned notebook for observations of the catwalk, and wrote
‘Lucifer - 0/10, shows little class and is repulsive. Lacks all sense of style. An offense to the eyes.’ He paused for a moment, trying to work out how to make the review more scathing. After a moment it came to him ‘The outfit is also hideous.’ he added.
“Ready for the next one, Al?” Charlie called.
“Just a moment, my dear.”
Alastor vanished into the shadows, and reappeared moments later covered head to toe in blood.
“My apologies. It appears I've gotten a bit of a stain on your outfit, My King. Dreadfully sorry to say it's going to be quite a spot of bother to remove. Though I must say the suit looks better in red.”
Lucifer snapped his fingers again and both of them were back in their usual outfits.
“You're such a fucking child.” He grumbled, making a face as he sat back.
“The hypocrisy!” Alastor grinned back.
“Annnyyywaysss!” Charlie’s nervous laughter came through the curtain, trying to stop the incessant bickering, “Let’s move on, okay? Angel! Go show Al your suit!”
As prompted, Angel walked out, swaying his hips in what was supposed to be a seductive manner, and Alastor froze. The spider had made his suit absolutely unrecognisable. The jacket was covered in what looked like pin badges, each with their own unique profanity. There must have been over a hundred covering every square inch of fabric.
“Angel, what on Earth did you do to my suit?” The spider chuckled nervously, then did a spin, showing off the back that had been identically adorned with the gaudy additions. Angel grinned a little sheepishly as one on the lapel lit up with an obscene noise.
“I, uh, saw someone do dis online and, well, thought it’d be cool! Cherri got me a tonne o’ pins for ma death day, she does it every yea’. I gotta whole -” He trailed off as if sensing finally that he had misstepped “- a whole…bag ah them…I…I thought…they’d be…uh…” Angel’s voice faltered as Alastor stared unblinkingly, another of those dreadful laughs creeping from him as everything went still.
The badge on the lapel was still glowing, so he just sighed, closing his eyes as he pressed his hands together as if praying for some sense to be knocked into the damned sinner before him.
“Angel. I don’t have words for the sheer amount of unbridled rage coursing through me.” He forced himself to look at his suit once more.
“I thought usin’ your suit as a base would kinda…make ya…I dunno… give it a couple a points.” Angel crossed his visible arms as if attempting to now hide the badges (the other arms must be tied behind his back somehow unless he could tuck them in like his third set), hugging himself slightly. “I din think I was gonna win coz ya fuckin hate me but…” he looked like he was about to cry.
“But you thought that stealing my clothes and poking a few hundred holes in the fabric would endear me to the look?” Alastor raised an eyebrow trying to be unaffected but failing.
“Well when ya put it like that it does seem fuckin’ stupid” He almost whispered, voice watery.
Alastor sighed, he already had more than enough chilldishness to deal with.
“For the record, Angel, I don't hate you, but you would have scored far higher had you committed these atrocities to his majesty’s formalwear. The more of that affront to craftsmanship that’s covered over, the better.”
Angel giggled, wiping his eyes of the pinprick tears that had started to form. “Since ya can do a snappy switch, ya could make that happen” He winked.
“True!” He perked at the thought and snapped his fingers. Lucifer's previously yellow suit switched places with Alastor's borrowed one, he dried the blood too, both for Angel's comfort, and so as not to completely ruin the shirt beneath.
Well. He supposed more than one zero would harm his credibility, he could score the amended outfit. He flipped to the next page of the notebook and wrote a small summary. ‘4/10, badges frankly look foolish but do cover the sins of the garment beneath somewhat. It is certainly A look. Whether that look is ‘asylum escapee’ or ‘child with too much time and not enough supervision’ remains to be seen.’
Satisfied, he placed the pen down, and waited for the next, unfortunate soul to be pushed through the curtain. To his glee, he could see Husker’s tail poking through the gap in the curtains.
“Oh, fuck off, he’s jus’ gonna be a jackass, why don’t one o’ you two go next!?” The drunkard’s voice carried through, and his grin sharpened, awaiting the new opportunity.
His next victim was all but shoved out, and as he eagerly looked for ways to embarrass his thrall, he was…sorely disappointed. Husk had neglected any thought. All intention of making an effort seemed to have died before the activity began.
Husk was wearing his usual outfit, but with his shirt and jacket from his overlord days. It was tasteful and sadly for Alastor, he had complemented the style on their first meeting.
“Old habits die hard?” Alastor questioned.
Husk shrugged and diverted his walk to grab a bottle from the bar on his way to a seat,
“I think ya look real handsome, kitten!” Angel said, immediately cosying up to the grumbling cat. Strangely enough, he wasn’t immediately shoved off this time. Perhaps Husker had drank too much.
Well. It certainly wasn’t business he wanted to get involved in. One quick comment was all that was needed, the lack of originality making the review easy: ‘Husk - 2/10. Nothing new. Colour scheme acceptable, day to day wear from a decade ago.’
As Cherri stepped out from behind the curtain Alastor looked away abruptly, face flushed.
“Goodness gracious! Hardly appropriate to wander around in lingerie, now, is it?”
“Fuck you old man. This is stylish!”
The skirt, if you could call it that, was three inches long, and barely covered more than the chunky belt she had paired with it. She was also wearing a feather boa around her shoulders and a star shaped visor that would have been sunglasses on someone with two eyes.
“When the style is to wander around wearing the absolute bare minimum, I'll be happy to score the handkerchief you appear to be wearing as if it were an outfit.”
He summoned a bathrobe he could part with and handed it over, still not meeting Cherri's eye.
“Me next, me next!!” Niffty sped through the curtain, Charlie attempting to grab her and missing by a mile. Her outfit was, as expected, far better than anything he’d seen yet, a 1920’s minidress with rat skull shoulder pads and a simply darling little crown, her hair styled with a small wreath of poppies to fit the theme.
The roaches littered throughout served to complete the look perfectly. A true homage to the word ‘fashion’. As the little cyclops gave a graceful curtsy, Alastor stood, bowing himself before giving her a small round of applause.
As he did so, he noticed a slight smell, the eyes upon her crown obviously a little old, and starting to rot. Well, eyeballs never did last long without a blood supply. It was a miracle they lasted long enough to be stuck onto the crown.
“Bravo! Niffty, darling, wherever did you get the idea?” Niffty giggled, climbing up to his shoulders rapidly so she could read the scores. Her eye widened with glee at each dismal score, before she jumped into his lap, practically bouncing with excitement.
“Do me now, pleasseeeee?” Well, with such manners, how could he refuse? Ushering her away gently, he thought for a moment, before writing what could be taken as completely unbiased and a fair, but generous judgement.
‘Niffty - 7/10. The crown of rat eyes is beautiful, but begins to decompose very quickly, which will spoil the look. Will likely leave a stain. Consider using something hardier. Rat skull shoulder detailing is inspired. Although complimentary, the base dress is quite simple, could use some more decorative fabric. Perhaps some hemming.’ Perfect. Not much of an anomaly, and he’d even described improvements.
It seemed this was to be the best official outfit of the event this far. As Charlie stepped out with Vaggie, he almost expected a similar show, but Vaggie had worn a pearl-gray dress with a charming little pendant, making for a good outfit had it not been for the hip-high slit in the skirt.
Her wings were also on display, which was nonsensical and surely uncomfortable. He hadn’t the foggiest why she’d brought them out at all.
As he promptly focused his attention on the wall, Vaggie muttered something, but there was a small amount of rustling, and as he glanced back, her wings had draped down to cover the slit, and Charlie had fixed a pin onto what wasn’t covered. Satan, he was getting sick of seeing pins during all this.
As for the princess’ outfit, it was, well, as expected. Dramatically flared, glittery trousers, with rainbow suspenders and a pastel pink top. Vaggie’s wings finally made sense as he saw Charlie’s blazer, which followed the theme of the trousers, but with feathers crudely sewn to the hem as if trying to replicate a hunted pheasant.
Well. At least it was creative, if a little gaudy and tasteless.
With a final note ranking the pair of them as a collective 5, it seemed every resident who’d volunteered had been judged, and he closed the book for the moment.
“Before I announce the result, there is to be a surprise entry!” Alastor addressed the group.
“No fair!” Niffty piped up. “You can't judge yourself the winner Alastor! I wanted to win!”
Vaggie didn't look impressed. “I agree. You can't pretend to be busy to score the judges role and then suddenly declare you're playing.”
Alastor turned to her, seeing the icy glare he was receiving from the clearly salty ex-angel. “At no point was I untruthful. I am not the mystery act.”
Though the moppet was scheduled to appear last, he was taking a little while, and it was starting to get a little concerning.
Alastor stood, trying to see whether the creature was hiding, but nothing was visible behind the makeshift curtain. Well, that was unfortunate.
“Charlie, dear? Would you mind monitoring the results book? I need to find our last contestant.” The princess eagerly bounced up, still wearing the ridiculous blazer.
“Of course, Al! Who’s doing it? Is it Ami?” Alastor suppressed a snort. Seeing Ami in such a get-up would be interesting.
“Not quite, but do keep guessing. Ta ta!” And with that, he left Charlie to stare at the book, desperately wanting to peek but forcing herself to resist.
—
It didn’t take long to find the little one, tucked just a little behind the curtain. “Ah, there you are. Ready to go?”
Raz shrunk back a little, seeming almost…afraid. The hesitation was followed by a sharp shake of his head, a slight chitter bubbling from his throat like acid as he clutched the curtain with a somewhat trembling hand. Confounded, Alastor hadn't the slightest idea what was going on, he’d seemed so eager beforehand.
“What’s all this now? Are the lights too bright?” He shook his head, before gripping the curtain tighter and giving another, quiet whimper. How strange, what had happened to the confident little fiend from earlier? As he tried to figure it out, Raz peeked a little through the curtain, saw the other contestants, and shrank back rapidly as if burned.
Ah. Stage fright. Frowning as it finally clicked, Alastor crouched to his level, taking small hands from the curtain gently and into his own.
“You have nothing to fear, little one. You have an advantage that none of them have. You have the favour of the judge.” The moppet still seemed unsure. “The highest score I've given is a seven.” He held up seven fingers. “The most you can get is ten” he held up all ten. “I am quite generous when it comes to you little scamps, am I not?”
Raz nodded, stance just a little more relaxed. Well, it wasn’t customary, but…it seemed this one needed a bit of a nudge, and he’d already tipped things a little for Angel. Undoing his bow tie, he fastened it around the little one’s collar, straightening it carefully as he watched in awe at the accessory.
“Now you be careful with this, alright? You'll get your score in fingers, and if anyone dares to suggest that I am incorrect, I'll let the whole family loose on them. Does that sound good?” The moppet nodded. He tied the bowtie carefully and stood, straightening his own outfit. He summoned himself one of his less worn regular ties and flipped his collar up to put it on. He couldn't very well judge if he was not looking the part after all.
“Off we go then. You need only one more thing to complete the outfit, my dear. A smile. You're never fully dressed without one.”
He gave Raz one final head pat before leaving, then settled himself back behind the judge’s desk. He saw the moppet hesitate, before walking out, seeing him at the table and going from a timid walk to a confident strut not unlike his own. A soft, prideful grin overtook his face, and he began writing, assuring the moppet as it flashed him a small smile back.
‘Razamataz - 9/10. Fascinating colour combinations. Bold lack of additional clothing. Hand made, gives a personal touch. Tailoring could be improved, but a very good first ever outfit overall.’ As Raz saw him write, his excitement grew, and he rushed off to show his outfit off to the other contestants.
While most were courteous, complimenting and encouraging the moppet, there was, unfortunately, a cruel reaction. Lucifer, ever the spoilsport, saw the outfit, froze, then burst out laughing.
“Oh my GOD!! Bambi, your little demon fucker looks like it lost a fight to a hellhound, the fuck happened to them not needing clothes, huh?” Alastor growled, claws digging into the desk as he stared at the ridiculous excuse of a man in his vile little get-up he’d somehow gotten back from Angel.
Walking over to the now pouting Raz, he stood by him, glaring at the pathetic king. “If you must know, you insolent little man, my moppet made this exclusively.” Lucifer was still smirking, so he looked down at the moppet as he mused, “Jealousy is also not something you wear well, just like your hideous little outfits. Though, I suppose you don’t know how it feels to nurture creativity and skills in someone you care for, now do you?”
Lucifer growled, returning his sour look. “Oh, fuck you, Bellhop. You only pretend to care about your little puppets when it serves your interests.”
“Okayyy! Alastor, wanna read out the scores?” Charlie’s voice cut in, desperate to end the argument and keep the focus on fun. Keeping his eyes on Lucifer as Raz sat down next to Angel, he gave a curt nod, the King looking away to focus on the one person he had left to cater to his ridiculous antics.
Returning to his post, Alastor picked up the book, flipping to the first page dramatically.
“Lucifer, dear oh dear, no points at all! Unfortunately, I just saw nothing of interest or value in your outfit, which was quite the disappointment. You’d think Charlie’s father would try harder to win her competition.” Horns knocked the King’s abhorrent hat off, but he pressed on.
“Angel, you received a four, marginally better but could be improved. My suggestion for next time would be to use that nice, purple suit in the back of your closet, and keep your arms where I can see them. Also, keep creativity a little more tasteful and contained” Angel nodded, seeming disappointed but pleased at being in the lead.
“Husker, I was extremely dissatisfied with your outfit. You showed little enthusiasm and-”
“Yeah, I’m gonna be honest, boss, don't give a shit.” Alastor tutted, but moved on.
Cherri didn't have a score because in Alastor's mind she didn't have an outfit.
Niffty was disappointed that her design was doing as Alastor predicted and rapidly rotting, and Charlie in her own, scathing score while Vaggie’s face puckered up as if she’d come across something particularly vile.
Perhaps she’d finally recognised Lucifer’s outfit for what it was. One could hope, he supposed.
“Oh, why such sour faces, hm? I believe the range given is fair, given the outfits you chose.” There were a few muttered answers, but no change to the faces. Ah, well. As Raz walked over to the desk, sitting just beside the notebook, he looked to him fondly, giving him a couple of head pats.
“And here we have our winner! Tremendous detail, don’t you think?” Alastor gestured for the moppet to stand, and as he did, Lucifer made a show of averting his eyes. Charlie seemed a little upset, so he paused, looking at the little one on the desk as he twirled around and Niffty ran up, looking closely at the suit.
“Oooo, sparkly!” The cyclops giggled, picking Raz up and running off, maniacal laughter following her as she said something along the lines of ‘ransom for the winner’.
“Niffty, we can't just steal people!” Charlie frantically ran after her for a moment, but a door slammed up the stairs, and she groaned, sitting back down. Well, there goes the winners…
“Hey, smiles? Since dey ran off, can I have the prize?” Angel grinned, hopeful as Alastor reviewed his notes.
“No. If Niffty doesn’t come back within five minutes, Charlie may decide the outing.” He stood, gathering his coat and walking himself out, hearing Charlie stutter something about where he was going as he shut the door. Then, after a moment, he summoned Raz, seeing he’d been bedazzled with several pins and hair accessories.
“You look like a pincushion, dear. Come now, we need to go and say thank you to Rosie. Would you like to get something to eat for your prize?” And with an enthusiastic nod, he continued down the road with the little one.
Unknown to him, moments after they turned the corner, Pentious frantically burst through the door, he and his eggs sporting a new, scarlet suit each. Panting as the residents turned to him in surprise, he leaned against the doorframe, gasping as the eggs roamed.
“Am I too late?!”
—
“Not too much trouble I hope dear?” Alastor asked, tucking into a sandwich from the tea tray as Raz nibbled on some leftover skin Rosie had fried for him.
Rosie giggled, setting down her tea. “Oh not at ALL! She was cute as a button and betta behaved than a lot o’ my clientele”
“He” Alastor corrected almost thoughtlessly.
Rosie gave him a questioning look as Raz looked up at her, chirping as he picked up another piece of his meal.
“We have been using the male pronoun for Raz.” Alastor explained.
Rosie didn't look convinced. “Any reason? Not that I'm judgin’”
Alastor struggled for a moment. “I don't suppose there's much rhyme or reason. Just…” Oh, how he hated falling back on Angels words, but desperate times called for desperate measures, “...vibes”
Rosie cleared her throat, and smiled at hearing Alastor using modern vernacular. Taking a sip of tea, she responded
“I'm surprised, is all. Usually sewing and such is a ladies' work y’know? Like cooking.”
“My tailor would beg to differ, as would a good number of the chefs in restaurants across the city.” He said, eyes narrowing a little. He cooked, for goodness sakes, that didn’t make him a girl now did it?
“I see ya point about the cookin’ but usually men don't care much for stitching unless they're…friends with Dorothy. Your tailor is.” Alastor almost choked on his sandwich.
“Why on earth would there be a correlation between a man's preferences in bed warmer and fashion?” he asked, after taking a breath.
Rosie struggled a moment, before sighing. “I dunno doll. Din’ spend all that time in the closet doin’ nothing? Best guess I got.”
Ami returned from his apparent absence, holding a bolt of jet black matte material with charcoal grey stripes.
“Honestly,” Alastor said to the shadow. “I don't know why you want this. You spend the majority of your time incorporeal.”
“Awww.” Rosie cooed, eager to escape the prior conversation. “He wants ta match ya hon.” she turned to Ami “Raz and I can make ya a jacket just like Alastor’s. He's gonna have ta practice his craft afta all.”
Over the next weeks Alastor found quite a number of his moppets being dressed. Once a week Raz would spend an afternoon with Rosie, and once a week there was someone sporting something new.
He noticed each t-shirt, hat, or blazer had something unique about them, reflecting the name or character of the one it was made for. Lucky’s of course had her name on. Index had a scarf with numbers on one side and letters on the other. Bot’s hooded jumper was made of a fluffy fabric that looked like moss.
Gadget’s new dungarees had buttons sewn in strategic places to look like rivets on metal, and Chaos had a clip on bowtie that was designed to be askew just enough to look intentional.
They did mostly seem to prefer ‘Winnie the Poohing’ as Angel called it, and not wearing anything below the waist, but in all honesty, it suited them.
It suited them very well, indeed.
MORE ART FROM ERROR!
Some outfits too! Gosh we are spoilt.
Angels outfit. visit Errors blog to see the second of angels outfits. https://www.tumblr.com/hazbinartist
Niffty's outfit
