plutos-w0rkshop

[plutos-w0rkshop]

A post explaining how Austin feels and views love because it’s a bit… abnormal.

TW: MENTIONS OF SA/R4PE

✦ Austin is a philophobic aromantic. With this, whenever he genuinely falls in love he will be super sensitive to not feeling loved and will form a very strong bond with his beloved.

✦ Austin genuinely believes SA/Rape is “love.” This is not because he was sexually abused, but he never witnessed or felt “true love” when he was alive. He has only seen abusive relationships, therefore forming this adolescent belief.

✦ Austin doesn’t learn what rape even means until he dies and goes to Hell. He didn’t understand what consent or aftercare means, either. Hence why he may be hesitant to receive it.

✦ He also believes that inflicting pain is love. He has an overall bad view on love, and has not genuinely felt it. Only time he thinks he has, he has attempted abuse, but doesn’t know it’s wrong.

I’m not too sure as to why I wrote this, but I love this aspect of him. This list will be updated.

[plutos-w0rkshop]

happy halloween to Austin and his obsession with J&H <3

[plutos-w0rkshop]

just a heads up if you want to be tagged for future chapters, please comment here!

[plutos-w0rkshop]

chap.3 - cornered communication

A/N: This story includes Polish dialogue from now on! It will still mostly be English, but due to the nature of some of the characters, they will be speaking in Polish. This language variety may possibly get larger as well. Please translate it yourself, if it’s not too much. I would recommend DeepL translator, which is what I use. I’M SO SORRY FOR THE LONG WAIT BTW…...

Word Count: 1.3k

Content Warnings: War mentions (breif)

It had been a few days since then. Vox was very slowly, but surely, lighting up to Austin, and that was good. Not necessarily friendly, but he wasn’t being blatantly rude anymore. That was a step forward. It was late at night, about 10pm by now. He and Vox were sitting together on the couch, but being sure to have a reasonable distance from each other.

This had fueled their forming peaceable relationship. It was surprisingly Vox’s idea, and Austin thought it was a good idea. He couldn’t sleep once again tonight, anyways. Maybe this could help.

He sat in quietness, the sound of the TV filling his hearing. A blanket had been draped around Austin, being sure to keep him warm.

He still didn’t understand what exactly happened. Vox told him he had died and was now in Hell, but why does he look like this? Wouldn’t he had stayed the same? It’s… odd, really. There seemed to be an intangible realization he couldn’t seem to get his hands on for this, as if taunting him for one’s own amusement.

He still hadn’t figured out this whole wing situation. They just appeared for a small bit, then disappeared into thin air. He probably seemed like a lunatic. Or, at least, that was how Vox was treating him. He seemed to be attempting to get them back though, he had thought they were pretty.. and soft.

"I’m thirsty," the aphid mutters, yawning.

"I don’t give a shit," Vox replies, before letting out a snicker and getting up. "Kidding. I’ll get you something."

He walks off to the kitchen, leaving Austin alone by himself. He continued watching TV, his interest peaked in the film. Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde always interested him, he’s been latched since he was young. First introduced when he was around 5, very poorly attempting to read the heavy book that was in the basement. He doesn’t even know if he could read it now. He never went to school.

Vox returns back to the living room with a glass full of water, gently setting it down onto the table beside the couch. Austin stared at him and he swore he had seen his gaze linger on him a second longer than usual, but his head was likely just messing with him. He took his seat once again, leaning back as he stared at the TV. Or, technically right past it, at something on the wall.

Taking the glass, Austin grabbed a soft hold on the glass of water and brought it up to his lips, tilting his head back to allow himself to drink. He felt the cold liquid running down his throat, helping his what was about to be dry throat. He sat back up properly, silently promulgating his fixation on the film.

Vox snickered, staring over at him. "Do you like this movie or something?" he asked sarcastically; it was obvious the aphid was.

"Yeah," he responded, eyes not daring to leave the screen.

"Couldn't tell." The TV demon simpered, finding his reaction amusing.

The movie eventually had ended, and it seemed to go by quickly. Austin was barely awake now, though it was the middle of the day. He didn’t get good sleep last night. Vox side-eyes him, raising an eyebrow at his visible fatigue. "You good over there?" he spoke up.

"I’m tired.." he muttered, his eyes droopy. He looked back at the TV demon, meeting his gaze.

"…K. Lay on me and I’ll kill you," Vox scolds, scooting a small bit away from him. Deep down he really wouldn't care though, he's just iffy about it. Austin was concentrated on trying to somehow get the wings back. After a minute he actually felt them come back and instinctively wrap around his body, providing warmth. "Hm," he hummed softly; it felt nice. He felt secure.

Well, did.

A few hours ago he had gone out and away from the house, needing to work on the burning urge he had to find his brother, and whatever he and Vincent were. Vox instinctively was a bit worried, knowing he probably couldn't fend for himself out there yet, but didn't interfere with it. It was his decision after all. He just sent Austin off with a "good luck," and he was gone.

He was out in the city now. He was sure to take a weapon with him from Vox's house, and didn't really question why he had them out in the open. This was so-called Hell, he wasn't surprised either. He had the dark-colored, sharp switchblade tight in his clenched fist, signaling his mild alertness due to fear, his typical hubris personality now caught in his throat. At the very least, he knew how to fight like it was nobody's business.

He eventually found himself repeatedly circling the city, in no hopes of finding the only reason he left the comfort of shelter. He sighed lowly and his shoulders dropped, thinking he'd lost all of his hope. Maybe they had gone elsewhere. But... How? How would they not be here, they were both terrible people too. He dragged himself into an alleyway, slamming himself against the wall and sliding his back down against it, his head tilting down with both the force and his physical movements.

He felt like the poetaster that wrote his hell of a story. No matter however it was bound to end, it wasn’t going to be good. He would probably be alone for the rest of this helpless eternity. He wrapped his voluminous wings around his soft, exhausted body, trying not to start crying in front of what felt like a million people, despite being in a partially excluded area.

Whilst trapped in his own whirlwind of his emotions he felt a sudden tap on his shoulder, making his spiraling mind draw an abrupt blank. He slowly lowers his wing so he can look up, tears and mascara running down his face. Wait, is that…

"…Brata..?" he whimpers out in Polish, his voice weak from helpless sobs.

"Wiedziałem, że to ty." His face drops for a second upon hearing his brother’s signature voice; a deep, thick accented set of vocal cords. He would recognize that voice anywhere.

"BRATA!!" he squeals out, immediately pulling himself up while using his arm as a support. He quickly hugs him tightly, his fingers hugging at his relative’s clothing. "Tak bardzo za tobą tęskniłam, Casmir. Nie rozumiesz.." he mumbles, his tears turning into ones of pure, pure ecstasy.

Casmir’s arms wrapped loosely yet firmly around his younger brother’s body. He wished he was able to see him again for all of the rancid years he had spent down in this shithole, and now it was finally happening. 12 years later. Oh, how he'd missed him.

"Więc co u ciebie?" Austin spoke up, taking a step back and looking up at him. Casmir wasn't exactly as tall as Vox seemed to be, but it was still pretty damn close.

"Mm.. Radzę sobie dobrze. Ty?" he speaks back, continuing to speak in Polish. He didn't know English after all, he never went to America, and died while still in Poland.

"Radzę sobie dobrze… zwłaszcza teraz, kiedy widzę Ciebie!!! Tak bardzo za tobą tęskniłem…" practically squealing, he speaks excitedly, his accent prominent, as it usually is. Though this time, it's his Polish-sided accent. It was a bit odd having two, honestly.

Casmir simpered in silence as he stared down at the beaming demon in front of him, who was rambling relentlessly in the European language. He had his arms akimbo as he looked vacantly at the jovial sinner in front of him. It might've seemed like he was exaggerating, but in all honesty? He couldn't. He hadn't seen him since 1942, thanks to that stupid world war... and Zajac. The man he would never dare to call his father.

He didn’t even know how much until he found him again, flooded with a feeling of unadulterated happiness as he talked. Now Austin just had to get back to Vox, so he could be safe in the shelter of his home. Wait, but one issue… which way did he come from again..?

Tags

@roach-master / @throat0fdelusion / @zh4rkbyt3

[plutos-w0rkshop]

chap.2 - piss poor solutions

Word Count: 2.2k

Content Warnings: sexual innuendos [dialogue]

Credits: citation from unfinished lore [by me]

Austin let out a quiet whine, opening his eyes, his vision once again foggiest. What the hell..? What happened? He felt what seemed like someone pushing their shoe against his side. Not quite kicking but not not either.

"Sir. Sir, wake up," the stranger commented. Their voice was hard to hear over the blur though. Austin blinked a few times, before staring up at the anonymous, who was nonchalantly reciprocating the stare. "Hello? Are you deaf?"

"Who are you..?" he murmurs, still clearly not out of the psychological mist.

"That’s not important. Get off the fucking sidewalk." Well, he seems… interesting. Nice isn’t a good descriptor for his first impression. Austin groaned, before sitting up off of the cold, cracked concrete. He took a minute to recompose himself before attempting to stand, almost immediately falling into the stranger’s arms.

"Jesus christ," he grumbles, but are sure to catch him. "What is your issue?"

"Good question," he responds, straightening his posture and staying upright this time. He really didn’t know what happened, but he didn’t seem to be injured. Did he faint? He does that sometimes, maybe he hadn’t noticed. A sudden episode.

The unknown sighs in frustration, putting a hand over his… TV head? Oh, ok. So this is some sort of… freak town. Well, they looked… Uuh. Nice. Couldn’t be more far-fetched saying that though. Unable to control his urges, he reaches over and flicks one of his antennas, causing his eyes to widen and smack his hand away, taking a step back.

"Woah, woah!! Hands off, squeaky toy," he grumbles.

"…Excuse me? What did you just call me?" he questions, putting a hand on his chest. Prominently offended.

"A squeaky toy," he repeats as if he had no shame at all. Spoiler alert: he doesn’t. "Your voice is high pitched like a mouse, I couldn’t resist."

"Oh, you listen here—" Austin steps forward as if trying to start conflict, but to his surprise the TV headed man grabs him effortlessly, holding him still. He took a second to stare them dead in the eyes, his gaze locked on his crimson eyes. Until he abruptly lets go.

"Fuck, that was hot," he blurts out, eyes wide. "Do it again."

"What the fuck is WRONG with you??" he questions, his voice coming out as some breathy chuckle. As if he was shocked at him; he was playing a replica of a mental asylum patient in his digital eyes.

"A lot of things."

He sighs. "Anyways, back to the point. Do you need help or anything? You’re like a lost sheep in the woods," he compares, raising an eyebrow with narrowed eyes as he stares down at Austin.

"…Sure," pondering, he let out a hesitant response, his eyes closed in the slightest bit, staring at the TV head through his eyelashes.

He hummed before gently taking his hand in his, starting to walk. "Cmon," they added; he’d be borderline dragging them if they walked any faster. Maybe he just had a fast walking pace.

—

He had taken him to some sort of building. It looked like a house, so it was very likely—if not obviously—the stranger’s house. It seemed comfortable, even for the few seconds he’s been gazing. It wasn’t special or anything. Simply a rather small house away from the city. There was a roofed porch out front, with a cushioned chair in the corner. Overall, a welcoming house, with an out of place foreboding aura. Maybe that was him, though.

He let go of his hand. Luckily, too. He swore he felt himself getting uncirculated. To be fair… No, not fair. He was harsh, that wasn’t fair.

He was walking up his dark hardwood porch steps by now, while Austin just stood there like a dumbass. A clawed hand by him had reached out to grab the gold-tinted metal doorknob, until he realized.

"Are you dense?" he inquired, looking over his shoulder. "Get up here."

Embarrassed, he quickly rushed up the steps. He didn’t even know why he was just staring. He probably wouldn’t have stopped though. Just continued to stand, motionless, as if in a trance. His pale white gloved hand was idle on the smooth railing as he watched the TV man unlock his house.

He pushed the door open, signaling the person behind him to follow. He complies, lifting his hand from the surface and walking in. He was quickly greeted by dim gray walls and a polished hardwood floor. That’s nice.

The stranger started to talk but Austin’s thoughts quickly drained his volume. He starts to stumble away, his movement correlating his instinctive curiosity. The singer was quickly stopped though, a tight hand grabbing onto the back of his shirt.

"Stay." One word. Well that’s fucking rude. But he didn’t really have any reason to continue, so he understood his demand, his compliance facilitating the TV man’s ideal. He sibilated, tugging on his shirt tightly as to reel him back in, before letting go once again. Wait..

"…Are those wings not there anymore?" he questions him.

"No? What wings," he responded, confused. Did he just take a crazy person with him?

Austin was silent for a moment. "Nevermind, it’s nothing."

"…Oookay," he says, his tone teetering between unremarkable and completely fucking weirded out. Which, he was both. "Anyways, come, follow."

Austin followed once again, but rather messing with his gloves this time. A neutral, natural fidget for him. Almost a hobby. Staring as the still stranger opened the door to a room upstairs. It revealed a simple bedroom, presumably the guest. "Stay as long as you’d like. Just while you adjust, I don’t care. Don’t bug me though… Although I wouldn’t be surprised." He snickers to himself at his joke, as if he were the funniest man in the world.

"…Huh? Okay?" he walked in, until freezing right in his tracks. Holy fuck. Why does he… I.. WHAT THE FUCK.

He stares at the frozen person, a deadpan expression on their face. "..What? It’s yourself. Are you scared of yourself?" Another not-so-suppressed laugh.

"WHY AM I WHITE!?" He yelps.

"…What? Are you-.." Pause. He probably shouldn’t say that.

"WHY THE FUCK DO I LOOK LIKE A Q-TIP!?" Ok, now that made the TV man loose it. He lets out a loud laugh, crossing his arms over his stomach. The shocked person glares back at him, looking like 50 different emotions at once.

He breathes heavily, attempting to relax himself. Holy SHIT, that was funny. "You’re—" pant. "You look f-fine!!" he weakly says, his voice strained from hilarity.

"I-I THOUGHT EVERYBODY ELSE WAS A FREAK!! WHY ME!?" He whines, until his expression drops from the hysterics, eyeing himself more properly now. "…I mean.. I’d still fuck mys—"

"Don’t you dare fucking finish that sentence."

—

He was all settled down now. He was eventually calmed down from the negative high. It wasn’t so bad. Still pretty… He had learned a few things about the stranger too. Apparently his name was Vox. Interesting name. He would definitely laugh about that for a bit, though.

He was in the guest room bed, sitting idly with his back against the headboard. This was pretty comfy… He was a bit fatigued, as well. Not surprisingly though, he wouldn’t be able to rest. He must have something wrong with him. Sleep was always entrancing to him, yet it could never be grasped by his very hands. Unfortunately. At most 5 hours; if he was lucky 6.

He missed his violin. He would commonly play it whenever he couldn’t sleep, but he must have lost it back on Earth, since apparently he was in Hell. Damned to this inferior dimension, how delightful. Pfft, yeah right. This was bullshit.

Mind running with useless thoughts, he pulled the covers back down and gently swung his legs over the bed, letting them free on the side of the mattress. He slid off of it, before walking out of the room. Although Vox had requested not to be disturbed, Austin truly was bored. He wanted something to do.

He eventually spotted him in the living room, staring at the television set he had. He was sipping a cup of something when he had seen the aphid, giving a mildly foreboding side glance. "Yes?"

"I was wondering, do you-.. Have something I could do? Like a violin I could pl-" he was cut off.

"No. Leave me be, I said." He seemed upset about something.

Austin seemed once again offended by that, but brushed it off. "Please? I’m bored out of my mind."

"Go do whatever whores like you do, I don’t know." He takes another sip from his halfway full cup.

"Wh- I am NOT a whore!!" he pouts, crossing his arms.

"Sure. And I don’t have red eyes," he teased, not taking his eyes off of the TV in front of him. Austin goes to talk again, but eventually walks off, a frown on his face. What was he supposed to do?

He walked back up to the room, his footsteps mildly heavy. Would he have to lay in his own thoughts, drowning like a pirate on a boat caught in a revenging boat? Sigh.

He climbed back into the guest bed, pulling the covers up to him. He longed to go back to the time when he and his brother would peacefully relax by the basement radio, not a word to be spoken. Where he even was, he was unsure of. Was he in Heaven? Was he in Hell? Who knows.

He missed him. He missed him bad.

The thoughts of nostalgia and reflection seemed to be an operative on his emotions, the theoretical strings on his tainted heart being tugged at. He felt his eyes fill up with tears, but he refused to let them drop.

His back faced the door. He was watching the inanimate wall, vision wobbly from his distressed reaction. Intending to just boil it all up, even if he was alone. Only the cowardly cry. He wasn’t a coward.

He couldn’t help but think of the first time they had, though.

The quiet noise of the audio arises, just barely loud enough to reach their ears. They just sit there and listen for a second, before Casmir looks back over at Austin, his stare falling off of the radio. "Can I pick you up?" he asks, not wanting to make Austin uncomfortable. He looks up at him once again, before smiling. "Yea.."

With that, Casmir gently grabs him and props him up onto his lap, being sure to keep Vinny close to him. The two just continue to listen to the radio, in silence. Austin lets out a little yawn, before resting his head against Casmir’s chest.

Continuing to ponder on the old days, Austin didn’t realize he was beginning to let tears escape, the lukewarm temperature droplets falling and staining his soft face.

Before long he was fully crying, but still on alert to be quiet. He had a hand clamped over his mouth, causing his strangled sobs to echo off of his hand and back onto him. Tears were streaming down his face, his eyes likely puffy by now.

Fuck, he hated crying so much. It was good to let out emotions every once in a while, but according to how high up he holds himself to expectations, it was comparable to a federal crime.

He buried his face into his shirt, tears staining his undergarments. He was wrapped into a ball in attempt to comfort himself, to no avail.

He missed Casmir.

It had been over 12 years, why did it still hurt so fucking bad..? Maybe it was because he was the first person he had ever trusted. Felt protected by.

If only he had any of his personal belongings. Something to comfort him. But no, he just had to kill himself. These were consequences to his own actions, and he really wasn’t liking them. He had nothing now; nobody to rely on, nothing to carry around and be comforted by… no way to feel safe.

He lets out a whimper, biting his lower lip as well as he tries to quiet his angsty tainted volume. The last thing he wanted was Vox, or honestly anybody coming in and deeming him vulnerable and in need of help. He didn’t like help; he didn’t need it.

His sobbing session was starting to calm now as he hugged his stomach, arms wrapped around his body. He had a heightened breathing pace with the occasional hitch, but he was significantly calming. He exerted his emotions, not really relaxing himself, but more so suppressing how he felt.

At least he had a chance of sleeping now. He regularly found it smoothly easier to get proper rest after doing things such as crying.

He let out a shaking sigh, before shifting in the bed and pulling the blanket up to his mid face. His body strayed away from tense as he relaxed. Continuing to stare at the wall as his eyelids started to get heavy. He let out a mild groan, before he actually began to doze off.

He felt his body relax as everything started to go dark and blurry, tugging on the black comforter ever so slightly. The space between awareness and unconscious appeared to be semipermanent for him, until his grasp on being awake slowly slipped, and he fell asleep.

Tags

@roach-master / @throat0fdelusion

[plutos-w0rkshop]

guidelines for shipping Austin S

When it comes to shipping, I am typically not very picky with what you do. However, since this is my OC, I do have some guidelines, alongside important details to consider with it.

RULES:

✦ No incest or pedophilia

✦ No bestiality

✦ Just nothing outright disgusting

INFO:

✦ Austin is abrosexual and objectum. This being said, there is not a specific gender or thing you have to stick to when doing this.

✦ Rarepairs, cross ships, and all of the sort are allowed!

✦ Austin is typically submissive in a relationship.

✦ NSFW is ok, but keep in mind I am a minor.

SHIP TAGS:

smoke / bow / 🎤 / 🎀

If you have any questions, I will likely edit this post to provide an answer! Although, I could give a verbal answer as well.

[plutos-w0rkshop]

THANK YOU!! That took far too long to write but at least it’s done now, I know where to go from now luckily

chap.1 - arrival

A/N: That took so long for people who knew about this, damn. It’s not too long either though, I hate writing solo scenes and I want this posted. I’m sorry lmao

Word Count: 1.4k

Content Warnings: descriptions of gore/morbidity, religion-mocking atheistic beliefs ( brief ), mentions of abusive trauma, attempted SA

Credits: @nkirukaj — insp

Well, today's been an... odd day. Not even an hour ago, he was taking his last breaths after shooting himself square in the chest, bleeding out drastically in Vincent’s arms… and now he’s... Well, he’s somewhere. Whatever this place is though, it hurt so fucking badly falling onto the ground from it. He let out a pained grunt as he hit what felt like cold, hard concrete, the world turning into nothing but high-pitched ringing and pitch white for a while for what seemed like an eternity.

He laid still for a second, observing his surroundings as best as he could through his blurred vision. Holy fuck, it was loud too, even when muffled behind the ringing of his hearing. He stumbled up off of the cold, cracked concrete he seemed to be on, just about falling over once he got back on his feet. He felt incredibly dizzy, as if he had spun in repetitive circles for some peculiar reason. To be fair he had dropped at least 50 feet onto the ground.

Once he readjusted his vision by blinking, he discerned his now clear as day location. The red sky was definitely new, but ironic as it is, it seemed to affect absolutely nothing. Obviously, at least. Austin could breathe perfectly fine. The tall buildings around were also tinted red by the oddly-colored sky. What the hell happened to Brooklyn? It didn't look like this before, and even if it wasn't, where would it be? Hell? He can't be in Hell. The person sighs. He probably looks fucking stupid right now, like a sheep that strayed from their herd. Clearing his throat he starts to walk around the city, being sure to keep that grin he's oh-so used to making.

He folds his arms behind his back, his eyes narrowed in an attempt to hide the fact he's confused out of his mind. Where is he? How did he get here? Damn, his head hurt. The fuck is that? WHAT'S GOING ON?! He continues to stroll down the street before suddenly bumping into somebody, stumbling back and dropping his arms. The forced smile he had held upon his face falls, clearly caught off guard by the unforeseen collision. The person he had hit gets quickly pissed off, trying to start an immediate fight. "Aye, fuck was that?!" they snapped, their jaw clenched as they stared at the startled singer, baring what looks like a full set of sharp teeth, albeit for an off-center missing one. Austin raises his hands up in defense, trying not to follow through with his inner emotions. "It was an accident, I-"

"You watch where you're fucking going, asshole," they grumbled, their eyebrows knit. They had a clenched fist as well, clearly looking for a fight. They also had a heavy Russian accent, which seemed to cut right through the atmosphere, and was a heavy contrast from Austin's high-pitched Brooklyn voice.

"You watch what you’re fucking saying!"

"I swear to Satan, I could just—" Taking a step forward, the oddly-looking stranger was about to pounce on Austin like some wild animal when suddenly he heard a gunshot, eyes wide as he watched them fall to the ground, a giant gunshot wound in the side of their head. He stared down as the blood trickled from their now indented head, the liquid painting the sidewalk. Austin was more-so a phlegmatic individual, but any average person would probably be loosing their mind right now. To be fair, he had recently witnessed a front row seat to a homicide. He didn’t care though, he was practically use to it.

He just went on with his day, stepping over the limp body beneath him on the ground. He kept observing his surroundings, as if analyzing it. He simply didn’t seem to be cognizant to his location. He would assume Hell, but no. That’s not a real place. If there’s no random man in the sky that supposed created the universe, there sure isn’t a counterpart to that. All that ‘god’ stuff was bullshit, honestly. People go off into some so-called sacred building and pray their hearts away. Yeah, cause that’s supposed to do something. If there really was a god he wouldn’t have grown up treated like an orphan in poverty. Fuck, he probably would have been better off if he were an orphan. At least he got past it.

He longed to look more confident as he walked, but he was all too disoriented to understand anything. He coveted someone to be able to explain all of this, but nobody was present. Well, nobody was present and was willing to help, more accurately. If only his brother were here. He would know how to help.

Toying with the fingers on his pale white gloves, he continued to observe. This place was so dirty and unkempt. It couldn’t get worse then this. He accidentally stepped on an empty alcohol glass, staring down as he heard it shatter beneath his shoe. Well that’s wonderful… At least the glass hadn’t penetrated the sole of his shoe. That was good, there wasn’t much he could do for a bloody foot right now.

Fuck, he needed a cigarette so bad. He briefly paused to reach into his pocket and grab his pack, only to realize it’s unexpected absence from his physical possession. What the fuck?

He double checked in his pocket, then in the other, just for his confusion to be confirmed. He didn’t have them anymore. Well, fuck. That’s awesome.

About to walk off, he feels a set of hands on him, letting out a yelp as he felt his smaller body get pinned up against a cold, jagged brick wall. He looked up with wide eyes, vulnerability bleeding through him as he gazed at the person pinning him down.

They looked abnormal as well, like how the guy that had attempted assault on him was. Nonhuman. They were staring down at him with a grin full of debauched intent, their eyes narrowed into slits. "Hello, gorgeous… Lost?.

"Uuuhh," his voice trailed off, unsure of what to say. "N-Not really, why?"

"Need somewhere to go?" they asked once again, continuing their disturbing glance.

"No, I- Get off of me!!" He attempted to get them off, his actions insuperable as their grip on his wrists do nothing but tighten like an iron grip.

"Keep squirming and I won’t give you as much mercy as I want to."

Continuing his resistance, he kicked at them with no success, when surprisingly something actually happened. The stranger stumbled back, putting a hand on their forehead and tangling gently into their hair. They had a newly clenched jaw, and their eyes showed to be… spiraling? It was a sort of black and purple pattern, and it seemed to have a definite toll on them.

He felt a light weight on his back too, which wasn’t too new since he did have back pain sometimes, but this was different. Instinctively, he spun around to face the brick wall, only to see nothing but the torn up wall. The feeling still remained, though. He spun again, until he abruptly felt a sharp pain, as if a part of him smacked against the wall. He winced and reached his hand back to rub where the pain was, but he was met with what felt like… feathers? What the…

Looking over his shoulder, his eyes widened at the now present wings on his back. That’s new. They’re pretty, too… Wow. It still hurt a bit though. Did he smack the wall with them? He tries to move it, but to no correct avail. This was gonna take a while to understand.

Hold on. How did he have those? Oh my g.. is he actually IN Hell??? There’s no way, but there’s no way he isn’t. It would definitely explain why everybody looks… inhuman. But aren’t so called “demons” red? That’s the only confusing part. Not the only, but one.

He looks to the side. Oh. There’s a giant sign that says “Welcome to Hell.” That’s… Self explanatory. Alright then. Is that why he keeps getting attacked? Like immediately?? Aren’t people in Hell, you know, morally wrong people? Why is HE present here?

…Oh wait. He killed people. No shit he’s here.

Pause. If everyone else looks different, does he? Oh god no. He probably looks terrible. Actually… No. He’s hot as fuck, he’ll look handsome.

He takes his way out of the alley, being sure to actually look where he’s going. This town really was an oddity.

He’ll get used to it eventually.

..Right?

[plutos-w0rkshop]

just a heads up if you want to be tagged for future chapters, please comment here!

[plutos-w0rkshop]

chap.1 - arrival

A/N: That took so long for people who knew about this, damn. It’s not too long either though, I hate writing solo scenes and I want this posted. I’m sorry lmao

Word Count: 1.4k

Content Warnings: descriptions of gore/morbidity, religion-mocking atheistic beliefs ( brief ), mentions of abusive trauma, attempted SA

Credits: @nkirukaj — insp

Well, today's been an... odd day. Not even an hour ago, he was taking his last breaths after shooting himself square in the chest, bleeding out drastically in Vincent’s arms… and now he’s... Well, he’s somewhere. Whatever this place is though, it hurt so fucking badly falling onto the ground from it. He let out a pained grunt as he hit what felt like cold, hard concrete, the world turning into nothing but high-pitched ringing and pitch white for a while for what seemed like an eternity.

He laid still for a second, observing his surroundings as best as he could through his blurred vision. Holy fuck, it was loud too, even when muffled behind the ringing of his hearing. He stumbled up off of the cold, cracked concrete he seemed to be on, just about falling over once he got back on his feet. He felt incredibly dizzy, as if he had spun in repetitive circles for some peculiar reason. To be fair he had dropped at least 50 feet onto the ground.

Once he readjusted his vision by blinking, he discerned his now clear as day location. The red sky was definitely new, but ironic as it is, it seemed to affect absolutely nothing. Obviously, at least. Austin could breathe perfectly fine. The tall buildings around were also tinted red by the oddly-colored sky. What the hell happened to Brooklyn? It didn't look like this before, and even if it wasn't, where would it be? Hell? He can't be in Hell. The person sighs. He probably looks fucking stupid right now, like a sheep that strayed from their herd. Clearing his throat he starts to walk around the city, being sure to keep that grin he's oh-so used to making.

He folds his arms behind his back, his eyes narrowed in an attempt to hide the fact he's confused out of his mind. Where is he? How did he get here? Damn, his head hurt. The fuck is that? WHAT'S GOING ON?! He continues to stroll down the street before suddenly bumping into somebody, stumbling back and dropping his arms. The forced smile he had held upon his face falls, clearly caught off guard by the unforeseen collision. The person he had hit gets quickly pissed off, trying to start an immediate fight. "Aye, fuck was that?!" they snapped, their jaw clenched as they stared at the startled singer, baring what looks like a full set of sharp teeth, albeit for an off-center missing one. Austin raises his hands up in defense, trying not to follow through with his inner emotions. "It was an accident, I-"

"You watch where you're fucking going, asshole," they grumbled, their eyebrows knit. They had a clenched fist as well, clearly looking for a fight. They also had a heavy Russian accent, which seemed to cut right through the atmosphere, and was a heavy contrast from Austin's high-pitched Brooklyn voice.

"You watch what you’re fucking saying!"

"I swear to Satan, I could just—" Taking a step forward, the oddly-looking stranger was about to pounce on Austin like some wild animal when suddenly he heard a gunshot, eyes wide as he watched them fall to the ground, a giant gunshot wound in the side of their head. He stared down as the blood trickled from their now indented head, the liquid painting the sidewalk. Austin was more-so a phlegmatic individual, but any average person would probably be loosing their mind right now. To be fair, he had recently witnessed a front row seat to a homicide. He didn’t care though, he was practically use to it.

He just went on with his day, stepping over the limp body beneath him on the ground. He kept observing his surroundings, as if analyzing it. He simply didn’t seem to be cognizant to his location. He would assume Hell, but no. That’s not a real place. If there’s no random man in the sky that supposed created the universe, there sure isn’t a counterpart to that. All that ‘god’ stuff was bullshit, honestly. People go off into some so-called sacred building and pray their hearts away. Yeah, cause that’s supposed to do something. If there really was a god he wouldn’t have grown up treated like an orphan in poverty. Fuck, he probably would have been better off if he were an orphan. At least he got past it.

He longed to look more confident as he walked, but he was all too disoriented to understand anything. He coveted someone to be able to explain all of this, but nobody was present. Well, nobody was present and was willing to help, more accurately. If only his brother were here. He would know how to help.

Toying with the fingers on his pale white gloves, he continued to observe. This place was so dirty and unkempt. It couldn’t get worse then this. He accidentally stepped on an empty alcohol glass, staring down as he heard it shatter beneath his shoe. Well that’s wonderful… At least the glass hadn’t penetrated the sole of his shoe. That was good, there wasn’t much he could do for a bloody foot right now.

Fuck, he needed a cigarette so bad. He briefly paused to reach into his pocket and grab his pack, only to realize it’s unexpected absence from his physical possession. What the fuck?

He double checked in his pocket, then in the other, just for his confusion to be confirmed. He didn’t have them anymore. Well, fuck. That’s awesome.

About to walk off, he feels a set of hands on him, letting out a yelp as he felt his smaller body get pinned up against a cold, jagged brick wall. He looked up with wide eyes, vulnerability bleeding through him as he gazed at the person pinning him down.

They looked abnormal as well, like how the guy that had attempted assault on him was. Nonhuman. They were staring down at him with a grin full of debauched intent, their eyes narrowed into slits. "Hello, gorgeous… Lost?.

"Uuuhh," his voice trailed off, unsure of what to say. "N-Not really, why?"

"Need somewhere to go?" they asked once again, continuing their disturbing glance.

"No, I- Get off of me!!" He attempted to get them off, his actions insuperable as their grip on his wrists do nothing but tighten like an iron grip.

"Keep squirming and I won’t give you as much mercy as I want to."

Continuing his resistance, he kicked at them with no success, when surprisingly something actually happened. The stranger stumbled back, putting a hand on their forehead and tangling gently into their hair. They had a newly clenched jaw, and their eyes showed to be… spiraling? It was a sort of black and purple pattern, and it seemed to have a definite toll on them.

He felt a light weight on his back too, which wasn’t too new since he did have back pain sometimes, but this was different. Instinctively, he spun around to face the brick wall, only to see nothing but the torn up wall. The feeling still remained, though. He spun again, until he abruptly felt a sharp pain, as if a part of him smacked against the wall. He winced and reached his hand back to rub where the pain was, but he was met with what felt like… feathers? What the…

Looking over his shoulder, his eyes widened at the now present wings on his back. That’s new. They’re pretty, too… Wow. It still hurt a bit though. Did he smack the wall with them? He tries to move it, but to no correct avail. This was gonna take a while to understand.

Hold on. How did he have those? Oh my g.. is he actually IN Hell??? There’s no way, but there’s no way he isn’t. It would definitely explain why everybody looks… inhuman. But aren’t so called “demons” red? That’s the only confusing part. Not the only, but one.

He looks to the side. Oh. There’s a giant sign that says “Welcome to Hell.” That’s… Self explanatory. Alright then. Is that why he keeps getting attacked? Like immediately?? Aren’t people in Hell, you know, morally wrong people? Why is HE present here?

…Oh wait. He killed people. No shit he’s here.

Pause. If everyone else looks different, does he? Oh god no. He probably looks terrible. Actually… No. He’s hot as fuck, he’ll look handsome.

He takes his way out of the alley, being sure to actually look where he’s going. This town really was an oddity.

He’ll get used to it eventually.

..Right?

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[plutos-w0rkshop]

A Gunslinger and a Conman

Intended for mature audiences! There won’t be any direct smut (can be implied + borderline) since I am uncomfortable of writing it myself, but there are elements such as violence. There is not a set collective content warning yet, but please be cautious. You are responsible for your own triggers.

This story may also not be canon to the characters I do not own. Since we have no official backstory back where the first few chapters are set, I have had to wing it and do what I felt worked best. Please do not read if you are going to dislike this. However, constructive criticism is accepted.

Nothing on here is intended for anybody under 13, so please be 13 or over. (Can you even be on tumblr when 13??)

chap 1: Arrival

chap 2: Piss Poor Solutions

chap 3: Cornered Communication

chap 4: The Start of an Empire

chap 5: Strange

chap 6: Dealt a Fool’s Card

+ more to come

[plutos-w0rkshop]

Pinned post here is a wip.

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main: @pluto-gargr4ve

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✦ A Gunslinger and a Conman