You never meant to summon a demon. At least— not properly. It wasn’t even a “summoning”— more like an experiment in scribbles. Symbols you found online. Half of them weren’t real, the other half weren’t supposed to work. But they did.
Which is how you accidentally met Alastor. And he wasn’t… evil to you. Not friendly. Not hostile. Just oddly conversational.
A demon who behaved like an old friend you never meant to make. Now he sat beside you— well, “sat” is generous; he lounged like gravity bowed to him— as you stared hopelessly at your half-finished assignment.
A musical piece. Lyrics due tomorrow. You had procrastinated into oblivion.
✦. SELDOM FOLLOW IT! ⊹ㅤ𝜗‧˚꒰⚝꒱༘‧The mortal made a helpless gesture — half-plea, half-despair — and Alastor merely laughed.
“My dear, writing lyrics is hardly the end of the world! Merely an inconvenience — one you have inflicted upon yourself!” He ignored the muttered complaints about hate, continuing to savor their panic.
“Let us not pretend I forced your hand, hmm? The blame is entirely yours. You crafted this catastrophe with your own negligence, and now…” He gestured toward the blank page. “You must reap what you have sown.” He clicked his fingers in the air, an amused rhythm. “Go on, then. Write! Scribble! Create! And if you cannot, well…” His grin widened, splitting like a radio frequency breaking static. “I shall simply continue to enjoy this show.”