#but it wasn't enough curls itll never be enough curls

[hiemaldesirae]

Swap AU:

Val wasn't too slow, he didn't come at all to Vox's distress call. He thought Vox could handle it. He spends the first 4 years as Alastor's thrall dead, as do most of the soul that Val owns. (Angel included.) Killing Valentino and the souls he owns gets old, however and sinners are getting tired of the same old pornos, so Valentino gets to go back to work, but thanks to their multiple horrible deaths, Valentino and his contracted souls are alot closer. They even have a discord server dedicated to bitching about Alastor. Now that Vox is back, they've added a sever dedicated to getting pictures of Vox for Valentino so they all don't die horrible deaths--and also, Valentino rewards everyone with every new picture with a raise of 50 dollars, so it's nice incentive.

Alastor on the other hand beside killing Valentino and his contracted souls for the first 4 years, made a shrine with Vox's heads--except for the very first one. That one he slept with. That one remain's in his (formerly Vox's) bed everyday, waiting for Alastor's return everynight so he can curl around it and murmur the words he never got to say to his beloved Vox one last time.

When Vox returns, Sir Pentious joins the hotel because Vox has always been his favorite of his favorite of the Vees, and if he's joined another Overlord and started something else, the Sir Pentious will try it out!

Angel Dust is there because he doesn't want to go through the absolute HELL the first 4 years under Alastor was, he wants no repeats. No one Valentino included DOES!

Husker actually loves working with Vox, and loves sending smirks at the very pissed off shadow Alastor (not knowing Alastor is watching from the Shadow's eyes.) and the side hugs, the cuddles, Yeah, they might piss off the Shadow and Alastor even even more but he deserves it--Vox still has nightmares about his near death.

OHH okay okay i see. that clarification. Actually made things 1000x worse for me actually im gonna throw up. this val trusting in voxs abilities to the point where it made him lose one of his best friends for years vs show val jumping to vox the moment that it became clear the other couldnt hold his own..... so sickening what the hell. the guilt that val must feel in specific for voxs disappearance and presumed death- honestly hes probably glad for dying so much those first four years because it took his mind off the fact that it was HIS fault all this happened to vox and him and vel. i just want an oddly tear filled reunion scene with the two vees where vox is like "i thought you guys just didnt think i was important enough to come help" and voxvel start actually bawling bc theyve missed him so much and theyre so glad he's back and *safe*. also the discord server inclusion is hilarious as hell thank you for that mental image nonny

oh my GODD thats actually so sweet im gonna be sick. i just know those former heads are kept clean and swept everyday both by niffty and alastor himself, and the one in his bed is probably propped up by all the most comfortable pillows while alastor himself just goes without a pillow.... WHAT WORDS. what FUCKING words if it was i love you ill actually just implode on the spot nonny ill get raptured and itll be all your fault /lh

+ pentious finally gets an audience with his idol! aww this is so sweet im gonna get cavities. hopefully he doesnt get hit with the kys this time but oh well if he does cause i support my wife committing crimes

Also. Vox having nightmares about the time he nearly died.... do you think that he has like ptsd flashbacks or something everytime he sees a radio. im gonna be SICK fuck oh my god. do tou think ohe day he just . meets al again and immediately tries to run away or something while the other hotel members go to his defense because they know the shit hes been dealing with from al....

p.s. nonny are you planning on turning this into a fic or something anytime soon? because if not.... can i write one based off these ideas 🥹

[sleepydross]

If you would write a pulp fiction mystery, or something similar, what would the opener be? Who gets merced? How does the victim die? What would be the perfect opener in your specific eyes?

this if itll finally let me post it Normally, the streets would've been dark, too dark to see without the streetlights - but those were out, too. All kinds of things were going to Hell, and fast. There was one thing Walter knew, however…

It was the same thing everyone else knew, too.

So he took a sip of his scotch and stopped looking out the window, and listened to the dame on the stage - she was something else entirely, tall, gorgeous, muscles tight beneath skin shiny with sweat. The humidity was bad, but the streets were flooded, the tides too wild and unpredictable.

"Have there always been three moons? Have there always been three moons?" she sang, and these questions hung in the air like streams of leaden smoke, curling and twisting and resonating too hard.

It wasn't dark out there, on account of Luna's new sisters. Their official names were 'Scarlet' and 'Roanoke' for government-code-name reasons he'd never get to understand. He liked to think of them as 'Pam' and 'Mabel,' sounded more friendly.

She sang on, about those moons and those questions. People had lots of questions, those days, and were short on answers. Life had gone and gotten hard, and everyone was flagging.

And then he sat down, right across from Walter. A server followed, setting the table with a bounty - a bottle of dark whiskey and enough sushi to put him to sleep for a week.

"What do you want?" he asked the newcomer - but he poured some whiskey on his sad, boozeless rocks and took a sip. It was high end, good shit, probably pre-lunar fracture. The newcomer was handsome, skin dark and rich, cool in tone - near blue, in the dim light of the joint.

"What don't I want, Walter?" he asked, and Walter had to stop himself from swooning - no vapors on cases, he kept his head clear. Clear enough. Acceptably clear. Alcohol was a slight issue. "Got your attention, then? Marvelous. I'll keep this brief. Luna's hurting, we can all see the red smeared across her surface - but the question we all want the answer to? Who killed her, and let her sisters and their friends in?"

"Yeah, we all want that answer, buddy, but we ain't gonna get it - some spook from whatever's left of the CIA will peep that shit long before civvies like me hear about it. So, that in mind, tell me what you want, or let me drink in peace," Walter replied, coming on strong and keeping the heat up - most people balked when they started to sweat.

"Aren't you precious? There is no CIA, Walt, not anymore - there is, however, Grimbo Shanks… a man with not inconsiderable resources and a desire to find out who killed the moon," this tall, devilishly handsome stranger said, drawing a card from the breast pocket of his immaculately tailored suit. "There is a payphone, on East Third and Birmingham, on street level - it's not flooded, not yet. Get there… and call this number if you want answers too."

With that, the stranger rose and walked briskly away. Walt tried to follow him, and lost the man almost instantly in the moving ocean of servers and sad drunks that he numbered so humbly among. Grumpy, Walter sat down, and picked up the card.

'Grimbo Shanks - The Order of Eyes.'

"…fuckin' nutter," he muttered - but before he could toss the card away, he sniffed it, finding a familiar odor touching his nose. "Impossible."

But it wasn't. A sniff again brought that gut wrenching smell right back into his nostrils, and left him aching for more. It hadn't been made, hadn't been available, since before the Fracture… and he'd, once upon a time, known the man who wore that cologne and complained like Hell when they discontinued it, even if it was awful and a bit too woody.

"Can't be," he said. He hadn't gone by Grimbo Shanks, back then… but it wasn't a far cry to imagine that theatrical prick taking up a new name in a new world.

Grunting, he got up, slumping towards the door, intent on seeing if there were any Gossha around the lower levels who wanted to drink some blood - if he was going to get to a phone before high tide hit, he was going to need to sober up.

[buttersoftheshea]

So I’m not... THAT PLEASED with Hisuian Arcanine... I love Hisuian Growlithe, but Arcanine just felt like a wasted opportunity...

And then I remembered I draw Fakemon so I gave a shot at redesigning them.

I like the Hisuian Arcanine design, but the colors is just.... NO, that dark gray everywhere doesn’t suit it well, and also I was hoping they’d continue the curly hair theme of Hisuian Growlithe, I wanted a big buff curly-haired maned dog.

Plus also Arcanine is based off of shisa dogs and komainu statues, and both of those have big curly locks and I wanted the locks to be continued.

I also wanted to incorporate some jade into the design because it was highly important in ancient Chinese culture, was considered lucky, and also a lot of statues were carved out of jade and I thought that was so cool. And part of me wanted to make all of H-Arcanine made of jade, but decided not to and instead stuck to just the claws, the orbs around the neck, and the eye color.

I considered doing a jade orb underneath H-Arcanine’s paw but a lot of people were already doing that and looking at a shishi statue, I noticed it had kind of bells around its neck. So I just kind of replaced the bells with jade orbs for my H-Arcanine redesign.

For the shiny form... I just like red jade and thought it looked really nice with the yellow color.

My redesign doesn’t evolve with a Fire Stone, instead a new evolution stone would be introduced called the Eternity Stone- which is a jade circle with a hollow middle, called that since jade in that symbol represents eternity, also Eternity Stone sounds badass aaaaand I feel like it puts H-Arcanine up to its representation as the “Legendary Pokemon”. Even though it isn’t really one.

I might do one or two more Hisuian redesigns, just specifically the ones I REALLY can’t stand (cough Goodra cough), or I might just do redesigns of Pokemon that never quite settled with me or light revamps of Pokemon that I do like but needed 1 or 2 extra things. I dunno! We’ll see. Just know I explicitly wanted to do H-Arcanine because it just.... it really bothered me.

Also trying to mimic the shading style of Pokemon is HARD-

Before

After

[chaoxfix]

Prompt knuckles learns sonic is more competent at living ina jungle than he first imagined

edited the crap out of this one today lol itll look different now

When Knuckles wakes up, he feels one degree away from being boiled alive. 

It’s an exaggeration, but only barely. The only reason he knows he’s not in a pot being boiled echidna stew is the amount of fluff around him. It can only mean that he’s being cuddled by something soft, with an awful lot of poofy fur. Ugh. Did feral animals find the Master Emerald shrine again? Just because he’s warm does not mean he’s free real estate-! 

Knuckles is about to get up and shoo the animals off when he finally blinks his eyes open and finds his vision full of yellow ears, the color only muted by the darkness around him. 

And realizes, suddenly, that he recognizes this kid. Kid as in kit, kit as in fox kit. What the hell is Tails doing out here, and why are they cuddling, and most importantly, how is Tails so heavy? 

Knuckles clumsily reaches up to shake the kid awake, but his hand gets snatched away before it can connect. 

That only makes him more confused – but less so, when tired green eyes blink down at him, half glowing in the dark.

Sonic holds tightly to Knuckles’s wrist, keeping him from shaking Tails awake. “Whoa, where's the fire, pal? No need to wake him. What's wrong?"

Knuckles wants to reply that it's hot enough to be a fire in here, but his tongue feels oddly heavy. He scrunches his face up; all he wants is to know where he is and what's going on.

Sonic gives him an odd look. "Chatty. Alright, Knucklehead. We’re sleeping in shifts, and it’s Tails’s turn to sleep, so don't wake him, 'kay?” he says, and Knuckles just stares. “Welcome back, by the way. You were knocked out so hard I thought you'd never wake up.” 

Knuckles squints at him. 

“Why’s it so hot?” Knuckles finally asks, and it comes out wrong from his mouth, clumsy and dry. 

Sonic frowns at him, brows angling oddly. He reaches for Knuckles’s head, where it feels strangely tender. “Well,” he says, saying nothing about Knuckles’s injury, “We’re cuddling for warmth, so I’d argue that’s a good thing.” 

“Says you. You’re on the top – meanwhile I’m echidna flambee.” 

“Hi, echidna flambee, I’m Sonic the Hedgehog,” Sonic says. Knuckles groans, even though it hurts his throat. “And FYI, it’s actually pretty chilly up here, you just got lucky to be so insulated with the ground.” 

Knuckles blinks slowly. “Insulated?”

“We made most of a burrow. It’s a little too airy for my tastes, but there’s three of us, so it had to be pretty big, and I couldn’t totally curl up, so-” 

Knuckles realizes that his head is actually killing him, now that Sonic’s talking. He decides once and for all that he actually hates his friend’s voice and every single pitch he reaches, even at this quiet, nighttime hush. Knuckles squeezes his eyes shut, but it doesn’t block out the sound. He suddenly misses when Sonic wasn't so chatty, back when they were kids.

“Uh,” Sonic says, oblivious. “You okay? Something hurt?” 

Knuckles grunts. Pretends his head doesn’t feel like it’s about to split open. “You two are lying on top of me, and Tails’s elbow is digging into my ribs. I wouldn’t call myself hurt, but you’re not exactly comfortable.” 

“Oh, good, I thought something was actually wrong-” 

“I want out from under here.”

Sonic huffs. “In a bit, okay? Tails is still asleep, and I’m on guard. We’ve got to stay warm, but I can try to add another air channel for you to get a bit more of a breeze-”

“Trust me, staying warm is not the issue here. Just switch with me if you’re so cold,” Knuckles snaps. “I can be on guard instead.” 

“Uh, no,” Sonic says. “No way.”

“No-?”

“No.” Sonic, grudgingly, takes on a more honest tone. “Listen, okay? You got hurt. You haven’t stayed awake and aware for long. And if you move much more, you’re going to wake Tails. I’m doing a good job protecting you guys right now, and I don’t need to sleep yet. So close your eyes, think cool, breezy thoughts, and go back to sleep. Unless something’s bleeding again, you’re just gonna have to deal.” 

Knuckles growls. But Sonic puts a finger over his mouth, then pulls it away and tsks.

“Come off it. Be mad at me, whatever, but do it quieter. It’s not Tails’s fault, so don't wake him up over this." When Knuckles looks unmoved, Sonic rolls his eyes. "Don’t tell me there’s never been a way-too-hot day in Angel Island that you didn’t just choose to sleep through in the shade,” Sonic says. “So just do that. The dangerous stuff will be gone soon, and then we can try to move again.” 

Knuckles narrows his eyes. Then, reluctantly asks, “...What dangerous stuff?”

“We’re in the jungle,” Sonic says. “All the nocturnal stuff out here wants a snack. So the best way we can stay safe is burrowing, and making sure the only airflow is coming from the top.” 

“...And what’s stopping them from finding us and digging us out-?”

“Spikes.” Sonic grins. “Why do you think I’m on top, knucklehead?” 

Knuckles clicks his tongue at the nickname. “Jerk.” 

“Bigger jerk,”  Sonic says. He grins down at Knuckles, meeting purple eyes in the dark. Both sets glow just a little in the limited reflected light, both originating from nocturnal species – though the shine on their eyes is nothing to Tails. Then, finally, Sonic relents. “...If you’re really that hot, you might just be thirsty. There’s some water in the bag by Tails’s hip.” 

Knuckles nods his head, just a little. Then, awkwardly roots around for it, finally finding a small satchel with some water bottles. 

“Might take some teamwork,” Sonic says. “You up for a challenge? I can help-” 

“Go to hell,” Knuckles says. But when he can’t quite get the cap off with one hand, Sonic holds it steady, and doesn’t even tease him that much – not until Knuckles needs help waterfalling it into his mouth. They manage to avoid Tails’s head, but not much else. 

“Save some for Tails,” Sonic says, when Knuckles doesn’t stop halfway. “We’ll find more fresh water as soon as dawn hits and we can get outta here, but he might get thirsty before that.” 

“And you?” 

“Can’t really drink from this angle,” Sonic says – the only one of them facing downward. He smiles like it’s no big thing. “Relax. I’ve gone wayyy longer without water. I won’t be thirsty for a long while.” 

Knuckles finds that hard to believe – but upon further review, not as hard as he thinks. Sonic very rarely has to drink much water, even after lengthy runs. Huh. The only exceptions are after exploring hot places for too long, but even then, Sonic only looks annoyed – not panting as bad as Tails does, or fanning himself like Amy. Sonic probably makes up for not carrying around water by always having some at meals, Knuckles thinks. 

(And never drinking dehydrants, like coffee – though that’s probably more that Sonic would vibrate out of this plane of existence if he had caffeine.)

“Take it easy on the wilderness-explorer stuff,” Knuckles finally says. “You’ve got nothing to prove. It’s not like you’re feral.” 

“What, a guy’s gotta be feral to know how to survive out in the elements?" He smirks. "What does that make you, up in your island?” 

Knuckles glowers. “An actual wilderness explorer expert. Unlike you.” 

“Unlike me?” 

“Yeah. You’re such a city boy,” Knuckles says. “A million billboards have your face on them down in Station Square.” 

“I don’t even have a house. And you think I’m a city boy?” There’s actual offense in his tone – surprised offense, like Knuckles has said something truly off-the-wall. “Good to know. What'd you think, I was just some kid who ran away from home to fight Eggman?” 

Knuckles, admittedly, had never thought about it much. 

“Yeah,” he says. “Sure. Why not. Why wouldn’t you be?” 

Sonic stares at him, expression totally blank. “So I’m just- some guy?” 

“Yeah?” Knuckles shrugs. “Duh. Of course you’re just some guy.” 

For some reason, that phrase seems to break Sonic. He blinks at Knuckles for a very long time – clearly surprised, and a little put off. Then, out of nowhere, he laughs. Then, he punches Knuckles’s shoulder. “Yeah, alright. You got me. I’m just some guy. Ran away from home and never looked back, that’s me.” 

Knuckles gets the feeling that this is somehow untrue. Sonic’s grin tells him enough.

But it also tells him that Sonic doesn’t mind him getting it wrong. 

Knuckles punches his arm right back. “Don’t think you’re special, city boy. The only one with a magical destiny is me. Anything you know about surviving in the wild-”

“Yup. Learned it in a book,” Sonic chirps. 

Knuckles huffs. “You read wilderness survival books?” Because the image of Sonic curled up somewhere with a book is… Not entirely unbelievable, Knuckles realizes. But not one he would’ve immediately associated with Sonic. Which he thinks – maybe that’s the point? 

“Audio books,” Sonic says, not allowing him to confirm that little mental picture. Instead of a stationary, still Sonic – one that no one has ever been able to reconcile with the real deal – it lets him paint a picture of Sonic racing through the world with a story keeping pace with him.  “You know. For when I’m running.” 

Whatever fiction Sonic is building – or not building, because maybe there are grains of truth here, since he’s certainly seen Sonic with headphones in while running – Knuckles decides to feed into it. To believe it until there’s a reason not to. 

Because if there is something bigger at play with Sonic’s history– 

Well. If Sonic wanted anyone to know, he’d have told them. And that’s enough for Knuckles to decide not to pry. 

For the same reason, Knuckles thinks, that Sonic isn’t prying about where Knuckles learned all his wilderness survival skills. Maybe for Sonic, the answer isn’t ‘parents who died when he was young, but still old enough to learn how to keep himself safe.’ But Knuckles doesn’t really need to know the answer. Doesn’t think Sonic wants to share something that might change how others look at him. 

“Like you listen to anything but rock,” Knuckles says. 

Sonic grins. “Sure, sure – but you haven’t lived until you’ve listened to the Chaotix try a podcast.” 

“...What’s a podcast?” 

“Oh, buddy. When we get outta this burrow, just you wait.” Sonic laughs again, then punches his shoulder. “You should go back to sleep though, dawn’s not for another few hours – and if I have to describe the last episode and how Vector tried to explain NFTs to Mighty and Ray, who’ve been off the grid for the last four years–” 

“NFTs?” 

Sonic chokes on a laugh. “–Like I was saying. If I had to explain it, I’d laugh too hard and wake Tails.” 

Tails, for his part, grumpily elbows Sonic in the stomach. 

“Heh. Whoops. Sorry, buddy,” Sonic says, and lightly rubs the little fox’s ears, right in that sweet spot all canines have. “Go back to sleep.” 

“Great, you’re putting him back to sleep,” Knuckles gripes, though not quietly enough to force Tails to wake. “Stop that. We were supposed to switch places if he woke up.”  

“Nope, I told you not to wake him and that I had things handled up here.”

"I never agreed to that. And after all that fuss, your laughter was what woke him anyway. If we switch places I'll be a much more responsible guard, if you're so worried about him sleeping.” 

“Nah, he's fine,” Sonic says, and there’s an unabashedly fond look on his face as he continues putting the little fox back to sleep. “Now seriously, close your eyes and take a nap. We’re fine here, it’s just another few hours til dawn.” 

Knuckles grumbles under his breath. But his head still hurts, and it’s hot, but not so unpleasantly hot now that he’s had some cool water – and fine, he’ll admit it. It feels strangely safe to sleep here, underground, with a friend watching over him. He wonders if the Master Emerald feels this safe when he watches over it. 

Wonders for a second how common this was for Sonic and Tails on their adventures. Wonders, just for a moment, if the little fox might have more insight on where Sonic came from, if he’s not a city boy. 

Then he falls asleep, and doesn’t bother with that line of thinking when he wakes up. 

His friends are his friends – what matters more than refilling their water in the morning and finishing their adventure? What matters more than trashing Eggman’s base and high-fiving at the end? 

(Knuckles thinks he might be hanging around Sonic too much with that last one, but he minds a surprisingly little amount.)