#charlastor
A crackle in the hallway, a soft and rhythmic hum
He watches from the balcony as the morning shadows come
There she stands in sunlight, with her hand in Vaggie’s grip
A secret sigh of longing starts to tremble on his lip
He adjusts his crimson bowtie, his grin a jagged line
Accepting that her radiance was never meant to shine
On him in quiet corners or in dreams of something more
Yet he finds a strange contentment through the cracking of the door
For her laugh is like a broadcast, clear and soaring high
A melody that colors all the grayness of his sky
If her heart is full of fire, if her soul is free of fear
Then the static in his spirit finds a reason to be clear
It’s a bittersweet performance, a solo in the dark
To love the glowing ember while another fans the spark
He’ll be her loyal shadow, the demon in the wings
Finding joy within the music that her happy spirit sings
A gentleman’s devotion, wrapped in velvet and in pride
With a world of hidden sorrow tucked away deep down inside
He tips his hat in silence to the love he cannot share
Happy just to breathe the same redeemed and holy air
Jan 18
Jan 18, 2026 at 11:00 AM UTC
In the shadows of the lobby, where the radio static hums
He watches as the princess smiles before the morning comes
A deer with silver secrets and a grin that’s carved in bone
He thought he’d found a rhythm he could finally call his own
He adores her golden spirit, how she dares to dream of light
A flicker in the darkness of an everlasting night
But the air grows thick with silence, and the dials begin to spin
As the "Radio Demon" feels a coldness deep within
For there stands the soldier, with her spear and guarded heart
The one who holds the pieces Alastor cannot pull apart
He sees them in the parlor, hands entwined and voices low
A gentle warmth he cannot mimic, a flame he'll never know
The static crackles sharper as her laughter fills the air
Directed at another while he stands a phantom there
His shadow claws the floorboards, a dark and jagged thing
Torn by the quiet symphony that only two can sing
He tilts his head and chuckles, for the show must still go on
But the melody is bitter now that Charlie’s heart is gone
A master of the broadcast, yet he’s losing every beat
Watching paradise flourish while he tastes his own defeat
Jan 18
Jan 18, 2026 at 10:55 AM UTC
A static hum behind the door
A shadow dancing on the floor
The Princess and the Radio King
Drawn by a dark and secret thing
Behind the gaze of watchful eyes
Where Vaggie’s silver spear-point lies
They share a look, a lingering spark
A flicker glowing in the dark
She finds a thrill in velvet grit
His wicked laugh, his jagged wit
And he, who claims to feel no heart
Is pulled by light and torn apart
A hand upon a crimson sleeve
A web of trust they quietly weave
Away from judgment, sharp and stern
Where embers of a secret burn
In corners where the lights grow dim
She finds herself reaching for him
And Alastor, with toothy grin
Invites the chaos, lets her in
They hide the warmth, they play the part
A hollow beat for a lonely heart
While Vaggie guards the hotel gates
Unaware of shifting fates
A whispered word, a brush of skin
The place where saint and sin begin
Two forces bound, a strange delight
Beneath the radar of the night
Trading smiles they shouldn’t share
A heavy tension in the air
The Radio Demon and the Star
Loving from a distance, yet so far
Jan 15
Jan 15, 2026 at 10:31 PM UTC