#constant sensory overload hell

[fandom-space-princess]

everyone who has ever had to endure orthodontic treatment deserves a zillion dollars compensation

[autisticlee]

sometimes I think about how when I went to college for a year before I dropped out (basically failed out,) the counselors/dean told me they can't help me at all or give any accommodations unless I have an official autism/adhd diagnosis. that might sound logical at first, but when you think about it more, it's actually quite fucked up. if someone is struggling really bad, what's the harm in helping them? why do they require a paper to get even the smallest amount of help? people who don't need help aren't going to be failing miserably without help! even NTs could benefit from some adjustments to the horrible school system! (but changing the entire system is a whole other conversation that the school system isnt ready for)

but even if you do agree to jump through their hoops, you realize it's even more fucked up that the diagnosis process requires YEARS in most cases (in my case it took 4 or 5 years, can't recall exactly now, for autism/adhd diagnosis, which would have meant i finished school before getting it if i managed to mot fail out, or i wait that long before going back, which is a whole struggle itself) and they also tried billing me for THOUSANDS of dollars because of insurance issues!!

so you put a ton of time and money into this, and then get told the only accommodation they are willing to give you for autism and adhd is "a little extra time on tests"

....

my test scores were the best part of my whole class experience. that was NOT what I struggled with!!!!! those tests were all online and could be done in the comfort of your home where you can accommodate yourself and have plenty of time left over when you finish them because you are comfy in your own space, (and also, no one was stopping you from having your notes/books/google open to find the answers,) and you don't even need a time consuming, expensive diagnosis for that!

SO WHAT'S THE POINT!!!!!!!

[applesandbannas747]

Me: yeah so I am bone tired in a way that is concerning, even to me. I'll sleep 20 out of every 24 hours when I can manage it. I come home from work and just sleep, then wake up to do some work or try and be productive and then go back to bed and wake up exhausted in the morning

My psychiatrist:

My psychiatrist: you're a teacher with autism

[lambheartedgirl]

she seasonal on my affective til I disorder. I'm going to kill myself tomorrow

[griffonsgrove]

Hi I saw your request for Hazbin Hotel I watched it and I'm simping for Alastor and was wondering if you could do Alastor x fem or gn reader where Alastor uses his radio static like white noise to calm down the reader when they have sensitivity overload or a panic attack or just to destress sorry if this is worded bad

Radio Static || Alastor x GN!Reader

a/n: Hiya!! This was a super sweet request to make! I myself get easily overwhelmed, especially with big groups of people, and it's comforting to finally get away from all the noise and interactions! Please enjoy this cute little oneshot! Fandom: Hazbin Hotel Wordcount: 691 Cw: minor hazbin spoilers

It had nearly been a week since Sir Pentious was welcomed into the Hazbin Hotel, by none other than the princess of hell, Charlie. She had decided to throw a small little get-together to celebrate. The princess had such an eccentric, bubbly personality, it was hard to ever say no to her. You were never one for parties, your sensitivity to the constant noise, the vibrant colors, and the chaotic atmosphere sometimes became too much to bear. It was during one of these moments that Alastor, the infamous Radio Demon, noticed your distress.

You had retreated to a quiet corner, trying to find solace in the midst of the infernal commotion. Alastor, ever perceptive to the emotions swirling around him, followed you with a keen interest. Seeing the subtle signs of your discomfort, he decided to offer an unconventional remedy.

Alastor approaches you with his trademark grin, his red eyes gleaming with an unusual warmth. "Why, what seems to be the matter, my dear?" he inquired, his voice holding that dazzling charm he always seems to have. You struggled to find the words, but the overwhelmed expression on your face spoke volumes. Sensing your need for relief, Alastor's grin widened, with the wave of his hand, he quietly motions for you to follow him. "Come now, don't you worry. I have just the thing for such occasions." He abruptly turns on his heel, delving deeper into the depths of the hotel.

You’re skeptical at first, but willing to try anything at this point, you decide to follow him. He leads you down a series of hallways, the sounds of the other patrons begin to slowly fade away as you walk. He stops in front of an intricately carved door; you didn't have much time to admire the craftsmanship before he opens it. You tilt your head to the side to peer over his shoulder. It seemed to be his private den. There's a little sitting area, in front of a small fireplace, which was adorned with all sorts of knickknacks, the most notable being a large rack of antlers mounted on the wall above, but what caught you off guard completely was the other entire half of his room, it was a swamp! Literally, the wood flooring splintered off into lush grass, and numerous cypress trees can be seen looming in the distance, the trunks covered in a thick moss. 

Alastor steps to the side, politely gesturing for you to enter first. With slight hesitancy, you step inside quietly, taking note of all the framed pictures that hung on the wall.

His voice cuts through the silence "Sit, my dear. Allow me to ease your troubled mind," he motions to one of the empty padded chairs. You oblige, sitting down on the plush cushion. With the snap of his fingers, He conjures up his vintage radio, the static already emitting a soothing white noise. For a moment he fiddles with the dial, adjusting the frequency. Soft static filled the air, drowning out the overwhelming sounds from earlier. At first, it seemed odd, but as the white noise enveloped you, a surprising sense of calm washed over.

Alastor sat across from you, his eyes never leaving your face as he observed the way you slowly sank back into the padded chair. The radio static acted as a protective cocoon, shielding you from the sensory onslaught. His presence was oddly comforting, and you found yourself relaxing under the influence of the unusual but effective remedy.

The two of you sit in a comfortable silence. You weren't entirely sure how much time had passed, minutes? hours?, the static acting as a barrier between you and the chaotic world. Alastor broke the silence with a soft chuckle. "Remarkable, isn't it? The power of a little radio magic."

You managed a grateful smile, genuinely appreciating the respite he provided. It was an unexpected yet strangely effective solution to your sensitivity overload. As the static continued its comforting hum, you felt a sense of gratitude toward the Radio Demon who, in his own peculiar way, had offered you a moment of peace in the midst of the Hotel’s pandemonium. You remind yourself to apologize to Charlie later for leaving the party so abruptly.

[necropathys]

I was wondering if you had any disability headcannons for the different versions of dream and nightmare? I think it'd be neat to hear your interpretations! Also you've dragged me into apple poly hell so if you'd like to add some headcannons for them too that'd be nice but you don't have too!

Hmm... I think Dream faces empathy burnout and chronic fatigue from constantly attempting to cater to and improve others’ emotional states, often to his own detriment. Though his positivity is his strength, it often leads him to push himself too hard, feeling intense guilt whenever he tries to rest. He believes any downtime could be spent working to help someone or even save Nightmare. This pressure takes a toll on his well-being, often leaving him exhausted, hyper-vigilant, and sometimes withdrawn when the weight becomes too much.

Shattered Dream experiences chronic pain, including migraines stemming from his eye and head wound, as well as persistent back pain from the added weight his spine wasn’t designed to support. Despite his mental age, he’s sometimes caught off guard by his own flexibility, still unaccustomed to his altered form. Shattered also has mild PTSD from the endless timelines he’s been forced to endure. At times, he needs a moment to ground himself, reminding himself he isn’t trapped in a past timeline or an endless loop. Repetitive patterns can trigger these memories, briefly leaving him disoriented.

SwapDream Sans is canonically blind and relies on aura vision to navigate his surroundings. Though he can squint to make out faint shapes, his sight remains hazy. The blinding light that emanates from his skull prevents him from sleeping, leaving him perpetually fatigued. This constant exhaustion can make his aura vision susceptible to sensory overload or migraines. To adapt, he has developed unique methods of navigation, such as tapping around or mentally mapping his environment.

He also suffers from chronic pain because his body cannot contain the overwhelming positivity within him, causing it to crack and fragment. Simultaneously, his body heals itself constantly and persistently, trapping him in an unending cycle of destruction and regeneration. While he cannot feel upset about the pain, that doesn't mean he isn't in agony. The relentless suffering is maddening.

I'm happy to drag you into apple poly hell. I hope you find these interesting.

[idyllic-affections]

if i am the wind, fleeting and transient, you are the steady and constant earth upon which i stand.

summary. kaedehara kazuha's older sibling is a geo-aligned mirror of himself.

trigger & content warnings. references to tomo's death and mentions of sensory overload.

tropes, pairings, fic length, & other notes. fluff, hurt/comfort. kazuha & older sibling!reader, slight beidou x reader. 0.7k words. they/them pronouns for reader. reader has a geo vision.

author's thoughts. this was an old draft that i decided to finish bc tbh? kazuha >>> lately i'm finishing and posting old drafts? i think it's because i'm realizing that they aren't even half as bad as i originally thought.

imagine being kazuha's geo bearing older sibling.

kaedehara kazuha is, for the most part, a gentle gale. fleeting, transient, evanescent.

kaedehara [name] is his polar opposite—they are the firm earth. lasting, enduring, permanent.

they were easily one of the raiden shogun's most vocal opposers during the vision hunt decree. how dare she treat her people with such lack of care? the people she should have loved? the people that she had once promised a dream to? where was all that love when she decided to cruelly rip her citizens' visions from them in spite of all the terrible effects such force had? where was all that love?

(even after the decree gets repealed, they would still be a little bitter. they're expected to forgive her, just like that? no. their forgiveness is a thing to be earned; hell, they may simply choose to never forgive her, and after all the pain she caused them and their brother? it would be justified. they do not care if she is an archon.)

"eternity is not complacency in a stasis-like state," they once told kazuha, "but rather, it is the endurance of a legacy for centuries to come. that is eternity."

they stayed back in inazuma, holding off the shogunate while kazuha ran away after tomo's death.

he cried when he had to part from them, but at their command, he ultimately did obey. as much as it hurt him to abandon them, not knowing if they'd somehow manage to escape on their own, he knew they would hate it if he refused to leave. so he did.

thankfully, the resistance took them in. they stayed with kokomi and gorou the majority of the time, helping them push back against the electro archon's tyranny.

kazuha definitely adores his older sibling!! he will literally never say a single bad thing about them to anyone. never. no slander will come from his lips.

when beidou first got to meet them, she was absolutely overjoyed; she can see where kazuha gets his attitude from! they also thanked her profusely for taking such good care of him when they could not. the two got on very well! kazuha was so happy to see some of his favorite people getting along <3

beidou loves them. genuinely.

she always encourages them to come on the alcor. there is always a place for them with her crew! sometimes they do take her up on her offer and they travel teyvat for a while. once their family affairs are settled, they'll start traveling full-time, occassionally returning to inazuma to visit their friends.

she also gets so excited when she knows they'll be on board—beidou likes exchanging stories with them and just... talking. she loves that.

someone had to teach kazuha how to play music on leaves, you know. it was definitely [name].

kazu and his sibling would compliment one another really well in battle. they'd be able to predict one another's next moves based on muscle twitches, changes in stance... it's like they can read each other's minds! they can't. they just know one another inside and out.

sometimes they'll cup their hands over his ears to protect him in situations where he cannot avoid a storm or similar thing that might hurt his ears. this gesture is greatly appreciated. kazuha does what he can to reciprocate that—if they're overwhelmed or overstimulated? his first priority is to get them somewhere calmer. they protect him in his moments of sensitivity, so it's only fair for him to do the same.

i like to think kazuha and his sibling sit and admire scenery together. maybe they point out shapes in the clouds. maybe they take note of interesting sounds they hear in the bushes. however the two spend their time admiring the world, it is always an enjoyable time.

i also think the two would play in the rain, as long as it isn't too heavy <3 dancing in the rain together, taking walks in the rain together... it'a comforting.

sometimes kazuha will lay his head on their lap as if he were some kind of cat, and he'll just fall asleep. a mid-afternoon nap on his older sibling.

on top of all of that, kazuha speaks his mind to his sibling, and he hopes they'll do the same. he wants them to always be honest about what they're thinking and how they're feeling.

he knows that, as the eldest, they may have had to carry heavy burdens all throughout his childhood, while he got the privilege of existing without a care in the world.

the heavy burdens will be no more.

he is old enough to help shoulder the weight, and help shoulder the weight he will.

please consider reblogging, it helps me out quite a lot!

[allwormdiet]

Insinuation 2.6

Onward and upward, right?

Good faith gestures aside, this is a good call with the mentality Taylor has. She doesn't want to put herself at risk any more than she has to with a couple of unknown villains, and her face would definitely be a risk.

Again, a really fucking cool description of Taylor's power and how it works for her. The sensory overload is a motherfucker but hey, she managed to crack that one eventually.

Enchanted by her eyes, ehh Taylor?

Little funny that Regent gets the most words in his description and most of it is about how Taylor doesn't really go for his type, sandwiched on both sides of the narration with what I assume are, in fact, her types.

Yeah, see, exactly. In order she looks at the Undersides like "hellooooo" "hey" "helloooooooo"

I know there are reads of Taylor as a lesbian but I'm gonna be real this immediately scans as bi, no I'm not automatically choosing that bc I'm also bi, leave me alone

Literally who bets against a Thinker, like c'mon now

Also interesting that Grue is described as sounding like an adult. Wonder if that just means that it's deep, or if he's trying to talk in a way that makes him sound older than he is

Fansites aside I'm somehow not shocked that Rachel would be against meeting new people

Also, interesting that she keeps thinking of the Undersiders as their cape names rather than the names provided, although it makes sense if she expects them to be somehow bogus

Oh hey the change in reference is actually diegetic, I totally missed that the first time through

Taylor you fuckin nerd ilu

I don't know why they decided to hide two thousand dollars in an Alexandria lunchbox, but I kind of love it. I'd offer all my friends thousands of dollars inside of lunch boxes if I had that kinda money, it'd be my thing

Here's the pitch, and it almost goes sailing right past Taylor bc after eighteen months of hell she doesn't believe that anyone would invite her to join their group.

I wonder how intentional this is. I don't know enough about what Lisa knows with her power to be like "she knows Taylor is desperately lonely and would probably bite down hard on any hook that came with a promise of camaraderie," but I'll admit the thought's occurred to me.

There we go, the man behind the curtain made explicit

And here we get a little bit more from everybody. Brian seems to really like putting his cards on the table with these conversations, which means he's not shy about explaining why they want Taylor on the team.

Taylor, meanwhile, still doesn't get why anyone would want her, as a person or as a cape. It has to be laid out for her.

Speaking of laying out why she's strong and terrifying,

Aww, she called Taylor honey

But also god fucking damn, good job on the overkill Taylor, you fucking rotted Lung's dick off with spider venom on your first night as a hero. This is why I'm so charmed by her, she's got this constant vacillation between "huge dork" and "idealistic hero" and "biting you biting you biting you biting you biting you" that feels like a nightmare to balance properly.

Brian trying so hard to both be the Mature One and also trying to get the other two to stop helping, poor kid

In the grand tableau of world events, I believe this is this is what's called "a historically significant occasion"

Current Thoughts

I can't wait for her to grow close to these people and then break all of their hearts for the sake of the greater good, all while I read along and also get my heart broken watching these kids hurt each other

I need to take a bit of a break, I've been reading kinda nonstop, but I might get some more in after dinner tonight. Really wanna see where this goes

[darcydarlingdabbles]

Two Nights, One Bed

Human Hotel Trip ~ Part 2 ~ 3k

Hazbin Hotel ₊⁺⋆ Charlastor ₊⁺⋆ Eventually Explicit

Part 1 ⚜️Part 2 ⚜️ Part 3 ⚜️ Part 4 ⚜️ Part 5 ⚜️ Part 6 ⚜️ Finale

// Alastor gets overwhelmed with the sensory overload of modern day life, and there's a special celebration at the hotel booking up all the rooms...except one. //

✧✦✧✦⚜️✧✦✧✦

The air shimmered as Charlie and Alastor stepped through the portal into a dingey alleyway. 

His eyes narrowed behind his round glasses, scanning overflowing dumpsters and scattered litter with a grimace. How pungent. 

The Princess, however, was practically vibrating with excitement. “We made it!” Her voice bounced off the brick walls. But when she turned to him, he had his smile back in place. 

“Indeed we have, my dear. Though I must say the welcome leaves something to be desired.” 

Charlie suddenly seemed to realize where they were standing only in that moment, like she hadn’t been paying attention to their environment at all. 

Alastor smirked—perhaps Angel Dust was right. He must cut a rather dapper figure,  despite being dressed down by the peanut gallery in the lobby. Still, he’d take any padding to his ego he could get. 

Though Charlie’s cotton candy pink bags might mire the effect, Alastor kept slung over his shoulder. 

“Well it’ll be better at the actually hotel then!” The blonde fumbled with her phone, pulling a map. “We just need to head this way and we’ll be on Bourbon Street!”

She rolled her suitcase, the luggage bouncing haphazardously as he followed in her wake. 

Alastor felt his heart sink when he saw what had come of his beloved Bourbon Street in the past century or so. 

Gone was the elegant promenade he remembered, replaced with a garish spectacle that assaulted every sense he had. 

Neon signs flashed from every window, turning color into cacophony. The melodious strains of jazz had been replaced with discordant ‘songs’ blaring from hidden speakers that trod all over each other. 

Then, there were the people. Alastor’s lips usually curled at being subjected to the unwashed masses—but this was ridiculous. Stumbling around in various states of undress, sloshing drinks from every size and shape of plastic contraption. 

“How, distasteful.” Alastor muttered, not realizing Charlie was standing close enough to hear him, and see how his perpetual smile strained. 

“C’mon Al,” she glanced from her blinking map up at him. “Surely you’ve seen worse in Hell?”

Alastor chuckled darkly, having dropped the filter from his voice when the stepped out into the overworld. “My dear, Hell is meant to be the cesspit of depravity and suffering.” 

They came to a stop at a cross walk with another galling flashing sign. 

“This is…” he gestured around them. “An abomination with the facade of progress.” His nose wrinkled. “And the smell! Distilled human desperation and…other excretions.” 

Out of the corner of his eye, Alastor thought he saw Charlie reach to pat his arm—before she seemed to think better of it and pulled her hand away. “I’m sorry it’s not what you remember, but hey, change can be a good thing!” 

Alastor had to constantly remind himself that this human face gave away more than he was used to. 

“We shall see.” He sighed, before forcing a wider smile. 

“That’s the spirit!” The princess said brightly. 

She grabbed the handle of her suitcase and set off across the street with a face of sheer determination. 

At least Charlie was a constant. And Alastor found himself grateful that her human disguised looked so very much like her. 

✧✦✧✦⚜️✧✦✧✦

Alastor was consumed with a wave of relief the moment they stepped into the relative quiet of the hotel’s entry way. 

Just walking down the street was fraying his nerves. His senses overwhelmed with exhaust fumes, fast food, and something sickly sweet that made his nose twitch. Every step on the sidewalk felt alien under his polished shoes. Alastor wasn’t used to feeling sweat on his skin either. 

The relative quiet and calm of the breezeway was a welcome balm—but short lived. 

“Oh, this is so classy!” Charlie exclaimed, her eyes sparkling as she took in the Art Deco decor.

Alastor, however, was thinking that if he still had his proper ears, they would be plastered flat to his head. People darted around them, the lobby was crowded and the demon’s eyes tracked every movement, his smile growing more strained by the second. 

The Princess’s eyes seemed to clear long enough to take in the humans all around them, prancing around in costume, heels clacking on the marble floors. 

“Wait a minute, did I bring us to the right year?” She blinked, pressing her hellphone to her chest, like she was worried the technology was out of place. 

“I assure you we are in the right time.” Alastor said from between his teeth. 

He nodded towards a group of human women sashaying past. Their feather boas trailed behind them like molting birds, rhinestones glittered flamboyantly on their dresses, and their makeup had been applied with the elegance of a trowel. 

“How can you be sure?” She stage-whispered as she stepped closer to his side.

“Because, my dear,  that is a caricature of the class of my time. A crude approximation of elegance. ” he kept his voice low but tinged with disdain. “No self-respecting lady would be caught dead looking like that.” 

“Isn’t that a tad bit judgmental.” Charlie gave huff, looking up at him. 

“You mean coming from me?” Alastor’s grin finally widened, a hint of his mischievous self returning. “Yes, it is. I may have been a scoundrel even in my day, but I was a scoundrel with impeccable taste.” 

Charlie didn’t look remotely mollified, so Alastor added, “And I can feel those infernal hand-held devices buzzing from every corner of this atrium.” 

“Oh, thank goodness.” She pulled her phone back from her chest, “Then we should be just in time to check into our room!” 

If Alastor didn’t hate every second he’d spent in the human world since they’d arrived, he might just find her squeal of delight charming. 

Just as he started to follow Charlie’s suitcase through the crowded lobby, a man in an ill-fitting suit stepped in front of the princess. 

“Hey doll, how you doin’?” He tipped his hat to Charlie with an exaggerated flourish. 

Alastor’s eye twitched. 

“Oh, uh, hello. Do you work here.” Charlie fumbled, taking a step back and bumping into her suitcase. Closer to Alastor. 

“That’s not a fedora, you moron.” He said as he leaned between the princess and the fool of a would-be-suitor. “It’s a trilby, and you’re wearing it incorrectly.” 

“You got a problem there, father time?” The human looked him up and down, and the disguised demon couldn’t help but smirk.

That was an insult in his time, and this pathetic mortal had no idea how much older Charlie was than him. 

“Al,” Charlie warned under her breath, making him take a steadying inhale through his nose. 

“Not at all, merely making an observation my good…fellow.” 

The human folded his arms, showing how truly ill-fitted his suit was, before he turned his leering attention back on charlie. “Say toots, how about you and me go out on a toot? I promise it’ll be the cat’s pajamas.” He asked, his voice a grating attempt at a transatlantic accent. Worse, he ended it with a wink. 

Rage surged in the demon’s chest. Fierce as any he’d felt when he was the one being insulted. 

Without further thought, he stepped between Charlie and her suitor, brown eyes turned burning red and his grin stretching inhumanly wide as he whispered. “I could eviscerate you in seconds, and it would be a pleasure.” 

The mortal fell back on his ass. “I gotta—gotta scram.” He stammered, fleeing with a squeak across the marble. 

The satisfaction the Radio Demon felt was delicious as it was fleeting. 

“Alastor!” Charlie hissed, grabbing his arm and pulling him back as he righted his face. “No threatening to kill humans while were on Earth! We agreed!” 

“My apologies dear. Old habits die hard.” 

“Promise me.” 

Alastor held his growl of frustration behind his teeth, but she put her hands on her hips with a determination clear on her face. She would wait him out. And wasn’t sure he could out-stubborn Charlie. 

An admirable quality, in any other situation. 

“Very well,” Alastor acquiesced, though his tone was petulant. “I promise.” 

“Thank you.” Charlie said brightly, with a satisfied nod. 

“Though, as a demon I surely do not count. ” He reasoned. “So when I ask you to kill me now…since I’m already in hell, after all. ” 

“This is going to be fun, don’t be so dramatic!” Charlie beamed, grabbing his arm to pull him toward the check-in desk. “Wait, who am I talking to?” 

“Drama incarnate, darling.” Alastor let out a genuine laugh at Charlie’s realization. 

⊹❀⊹❀⊹✨❀⊹❀⊹

Charli’s smile faded the longer she spent haggling with the harried-looking clerk behind the counter. 

“I’m so sorry, but there’s been a mix-up with your reservation.” The woman explained, her eyes on neither of them and her fingers flying over her keyboard. “We’re hosting a Roaring Twenties Bash and we’re overbooked.” 

“What?” Charlie’s voice cracked with disappointment. “But I confirmed everything yesterday!”

Alastor remained silent beside her, his perpetual smile fixed in place, but his lips pressed tight together. She could tell he was focusing intently on not letting anything slip. 

Charlie took a breath to compose herself. “Are there any other rooms, please?” She asked, her tone gentle but pleading.

The clerk’s expression softened. “Well…I might be able to get you a room on the top floor—I’ll make sure it’s the same price.Would that work?”

“Oh, yes, that would be great!” The blonde bounced where she was leaned against the counter, her faith in just asking nicely renewed. 

“Wonderful,” the clerk said, tapping a few more buttons, before surprising the princess by setting two actual, physical keys on the countertop. “These will let you two into the honeymoon suite.”

A burst of static suddenly filled the air, drowning out the soft jazz playing in the lobby, making several humans glare at the speakers like they were causing the offense. 

Charlie winced, recognizing the source immediately. She glanced at Alastor, whose smile had become decidedly strained.

“Honeymoon suite?” The blonde squeaked, her cheeks flushing. “Are you, I mean. Surely there’s at least one other room—”

“It’s all we have available,” the clerk interrupted apologetically. “I hope that won’t be a problem?”

Charlie forced a smile like the bristling demon next to her. “No, no problem at all. Thank you so much!”

As they made their way to the elevator, Charlie whispered, “Are you okay, Al?”

“Perfectly fine,” Alastor replied, his voice tight. 

And Charlie wasn’t remotely convinced. 

The gilded elevator doors opened and it was blessedly empty as they stepped inside with their baggage. But before they could close again, and before Charlie could decide how she was going to reassure Alastor about their sleeping situation—a crowd of humans and their luggage cart pushed into the elevator. 

Alastor’s posture went rigid as they were forced carelessly into a tight corner, and Charlie’’s heart raced. She could feel the murderous intent radiating off him like hellfire.

“Hey, Al, it’s okay.” She murmured, careful to tuck her hands behind her so she didn’t reach to touch him on instinct. “Just focus on me, there are only three floors and we’re—” 

His gaze locked onto Charlie’s, just before the elevator gave a rickety jolt and a human and their luggage cart bumped hard into the demon’s back. 

Alastor stumbled forward, pressing her into the elevator’s corner, before he managed to brace his hand beside her her head. 

Charlie’s breath caught in her throat, meeting the man’s grimace with wide golden eyes. 

“My…apologies.” Alastor’s voice was strained, despite the fact that he couldn’t move—unless he used his powers. 

Charlie barely heard him over the hammering in her chest. He was towering over her in his distractingly, invitingly human face, so close she could see now that his brown skin had a dusting of freckles over his nose and under his glasses. 

“It’s okay,” she whispered, cursing the heat rising in her cheeks. 

After what felt like an eternity suspended between them, where she didn’t think either one of them were breathing, the elevator dinged. 

They exited quickly when they got to their floor, Charlie leading down the hall to their room at the very end. She fumbled with the key, acutely aware of Alastor’s silent, thrumming presence behind her. 

As the door swung open, Charlie’s eyes widened. 

Alastor stepped in behind her, his eyebrows raising slightly. “Well,” he mused, “this isn’t entirely unfortunate.”

The room was a blend of elegant Art Deco design and modern amenities. Small for a suite, but this was a historical hotel on Bourbon Street. Soft, ambient lighting cast a warm glow over the polished surfaces and rich fabrics. Charlie’s gaze was immediately drawn to the chandelier, its crystals casting intricate patterns on the walls.

“It’s beautiful!” Charlie gushed, running her hand over the plush loveseat in the suite, though her eyes watched Alastor as he moved around the room. Graceful as ever, but with a critical eye surveying every detail. 

“It is…tolerable.” He admitted. “Not near as…gaudy as I feared.” He strode to the French doors opposite the bed, pulling open the opulent, floor-length curtains with a flourish. 

Charlie’s smile waned just a touch as her eyes fell on the one, solitary, admittedly large bed. “Oh, um, about the sleeping arrangements…” she let the sentence dangle, wondering, if after that moment in the elevator. 

“Not to worry, my dear.” Alastor inerjected smoothly, without turning his attention from the swarming street below. “I will take the sofa.”

Charlie frowned, eyeing the deep green love seat. It was stylish of course, but decidedly small. “Are you sure Al? You’re pretty tall even as a human. Won’t you be uncomfortable?”

The wistful look across the Radio Demon’s face was quickly hidden as she approached him, his lips still pressed even as he kept his smile composed. 

“A gentleman would never dream of taking the bed from a lady, it simply wouldn’t do.” He chuckled, though she noticed how his voice slipped into that tinny sound. 

“Well, there’s another option.” Charlie started, biting her lip as she sat back on the end of the bed, sinking into the thick comforter just slightly. “It’s huge, I mean, we could…share?”

A soft static crackled through the air between them. 

“Well, I do believe I just felt my mother turning in her grave.” He laughed, high and harsh and distorted, his eyes turning back to the French doors, his hand resting on the curling door handles. But he never opened them. “It goes against every ounce of civility she impressed upon me in my youth. Besides,” beneathe the jovial tone, Charle thought she heard a hint of genuine discomfort. “I hardly need to sleep anyway. How fortunate!” 

“You know you’re in a human form right now. Things might be a little different.” Charlie frowned at his rigid back. The sun was starting to set outside, but not enough for her to catch the reflection of his face in the doors’ glass panes

Alastor let out a scoff a the very notion that he didn’t have perfect control over the mortal flesh he occupied. 

“Alright, I’m sorry for pushing.” Charlie wrapped her arms loosely around herself, coming up to his side to take in the view. 

Bourbon Street was bustling away below them, undaunted by the setting sun and even getting more crowded. Lights flashed, and muffled music blaired. 

“I’m sorry this isn’t quite what you expected.” Charlie voiced softly. 

Without thinking, she leaned towards Alastor, bumping against his pressed white sleeve, trying to offer some comfort before she could remember herself. 

The demon flinched at the contact, and the princess pulled back at once. 

“Oh, I’m sorry I forgot—” She stammered. 

But, to her surprise, Alastor relaxed. “It’s quite alright.” His hand stayed unmoving on the door handle, but she swore he leaned incrementally back to her. “No harm done.” He murmured, the Radio Demon’s voice uncharacteristically gentle.

Charlie stared at him, shocked by this little allowance of her being close. They were touching, actually close enough for her to feel the tension in the slender muscle of his bicep. 

She couldn’t recall Alastor ever allowing this. It felt like a sort of silent breakthrough, and she had to go with it. 

“Would you…” Charlie bit her lip, but she had to ask. “…want to look for any information about what happened to her, your mother, while we’re here?”

She expected a new wave of tension, perhaps even to lose her balance when he stepped away from her, repelled by her ‘bleeding heart.’

To Charlie’s surprise, Alastor’s posture relaxed. His gaze stayed fixed on the bustling street below. 

“No, thank you.” The man said softly. “I caused my mother enough grief in life, since the very day I was born. It would hardly do for me to disturb her after death.”

Charlie opened her mouth  once. “I’m sure you didn’t—”

“Oh, but I did” His smile took on a wry tone. “A beautiful blonde woman of wealth and status in turn-of-the-century Lousianna, becoming a mother to a…child like myself…it cost her everything but her spirit.”

Charlie’s face fell, seeing the ghost of his reflection now in the panes of glass. His medium skin, brown eyes, and dark hair. 

“I’m sorry…I can’t imagine how difficult that was.” Her heart aching for the young Alastor she’d never known. 

“Oh, we managed,” Alastor said airily. “I worked during the day, you see, and conducted my radio show,” he chuckled. “And other, extracurricular activities, at night.”

Charlie’s curiosity piqued. “What kind of work did you do?”

Alastor turned to her then, his smile stretching wide in a way that sent a shiver down the princess’s spine. “Why, I was an apprentice to the local butcher.” 

The way he said it, with such relish, made Charlie wonder if there was more to that simple statement than met the eye. 

But she didn’t dare ask, not when Alastor had shared more of himself in these few minutes than he had in all the time she’d known him in Hell.

⚜️ Part 3 ~ Room Service ⚜️

[newhologram]

Summer is sensory hell. Hot, sweat, moisture, bright, sharp, trapped, fans blowing, constant noise, need controlled heat (tea, heating pads, baths, etc) to self regulate/manage pain but if already hot then it’s torture. I always asked: Why is summer so much LOUDER? Overload.

[sadiecoocoo]

The Shadows Are Coming Chp. 4

Summary - Crosshair and Hunter meet a reg while Tech and Echo struggle in the med-bay.

Word Count - 3041

Read on AO3

Previous Chapter

Notes: sorry for the somewhat late update, the past week was absolute hell for me :/ Please enjoy <3

Hunter’s head hurt worse than it had before. He grit his teeth to suppress a pained moan. His teeth bit into his cheek and he tasted blood. The taste of it only serving to overwhelm his senses more.

Crosshair sat next to him, his knees pulled to his chest. His side pressed against Hunters felt unwelcomed yet needed at the same time. It was another thing overloading his senses, but if he didn’t feel his brother at his side he could only imagine the worst.

They had barely made it out, outrunning the horde by a hair. When Tech and Wrecker got far enough, the two had stopped firing and had made a run for it. They went in the opposite direction as the others, leading them deeper into the complex.

With every step they made, the pulsing in his head increased. It’s gotten to the point where he can barely think, let alone move. He knew now was the worst possible time for his sensory issues to act up, but there wasn’t anything he could do other than wait it out.

Crosshair wrapped his arm around Hunter’s shoulders and pulled him closer. He stuffed his face in his neck and tried to block everything else out. It was so loud. It felt like it was surrounding him at all times.

It didn’t have a source, just a place where it felt the strongest. He was barely able to direct the rest of the Batch once they got further into the complex. His shoulders started to shake. He didn’t want to cry now, but it hurt.

Crosshair wrapped his other arm around Hunter, engulfing him in a hug. Wrecker would be jealous. He pressed his ear to Crosshair’s cuirass, listening to his little brother’s quick heartbeats. Cross was scared.

Echo’s heartbeat had felt strange the last time he heard it. It wasn’t at all like the ARC’s usually calm body language. It felt like it was slowing, and it felt dangerously similar to the constant drumming that had been haunting Hunter since they stepped foot in the base.

There was a loud bang outside the tiny storage closet the two took refuge in. Both clones flinched at the noise. Hunter, with a shaking hand, grabbed his viroblade. There was nowhere for either of them to run now, they were as good as dead, but they would die fighting.

“It’ll be okay.” Crosshair mumbled, Hunter almost couldn’t hear it with everything else. “Tech’ll cure Echo, then they’ll come back for us.” He reassured. Hunter wanted to sob. He should be the one comforting Crosshair, not the other way around. But, then again, Crosshair was always much more determined than him.

There was another loud bang. Then the firing of a blaster. There was yelling, or maybe the zombies snarling? And then there was a disgusting silence.

Red emergency lights flooded the storage closet as the door opened. A figure stood over them, casting an eerie shadow over the two troopers. Hunter tensed up, suddenly unable to move. That wasn’t the form of any of their brothers.

Crosshair reacted before he could, jumping out from their hiding place and tumbling into whoever found them. The trooper went down with a yell. Hunter jumped up and went to the doorway, anxiously watching the small tussle Crosshair and the trooper were having.

“Crosshair, wait!” Hunter hissed. The sharpshooter paused, fist raised in the air as he sat pinned on top of the trooper. He turned back to Hunter, the tracker imagined an incredulous and judgmental look on his brother’s face.

“What?!” He whispered sharply. Hunter raised his hand placating to calm Crosshair down. The trooper did the same.

“Look, he’s human.” Hunter observed. Crosshair turned sharply back to the trooper beneath him, then hesitantly got up. Hunter caught him putting a hand to the small DC he had holstered, and nodded softly. Just in case.

“Who are you?” He asked as the trooper slowly stood. He scanned the hallway, noticing the new splatters of blood and bodies. He blinked several times as he realized his headache had started to get a bit better.

“My name is Skeet.” The trooper said softly, placing a hand to his chest, above his heart. Hunter focused on that hand, and what vital organ lay beneath it. It was a normal heartbeat, not like Echo’s, and not like the drums. “I’m sorry I scared you two.” He apologized.

The trooper had standard armor with crimson red accents. His helmet was painted with red lines running down from his visor, like a stream of bloody tears. His cuirass had red accents that looked almost like ribs. Hunter looked down at the blood staining his boot and leg armor up to his knees, he had almost mistaken it for paint. There was a dent in his helmet, as if it were hit with a blunt object. One of his shoulder pauldrons was missing as well.

“You didn’t scare us.” Crosshair scoffed. “The zombies did that.” that elicited a small, nervous chuckle from Skeet.

“Yeah,” he responded breathily, “they do that.” He rubbed the back of his neck.

“Why aren’t you infected?” Hunter interrogated. He narrowed his eyes at the nervous trooper.

“Oh. I don’t know.” He replied with a simple shrug. It led to Crosshair releasing an incredulous ‘what?’ Hunter pressed his lips together and released a long breath through his nose.

“So you don’t have a cure?” He asked warily, fearing for the answer he knew he was going to be given.

“No,” Skeet replied regretfully, “wait- are you infected?” He tensed up, moving back slightly. Hunter kept his eyes on the blaster Skeet was slowly putting his hand to. Both Hunter and Crosshair raised their hands gently.

“No, our brother is.” Hunter amended quickly. He could feel Crosshair seething beside him. Skeet relaxed a bit at that. The trooper twiddled with his thumbs for a moment, staring down at the floor.

“I’m sorry, was he bitten?” Skeet asked carefully. He clasped his hand behind his back, likely still fidgeting. Hunter got the sense that this was a younger clone, maybe one of the shines Echo always talked about. His fidgety mannerisms reminded Hunter of Tech.

“Bitten?” Crosshair hissed. Hunter felt just as confused as Crosshair, he knew they were comparing the sick troopers to zombies, but it couldn’t actually be transferred through biting. Skeet tilted his head, almost like a confused puppy.

“Yeah, if they bite you, you get the virus. It actually works faster that way. Nash found out-” Skeet was cut off from his rambling when a guttural cry was heard down the hall. Hunter moved to cover his ears, though his helmet was in the way, as it pierced his senses like an arrow meeting flesh.

Crosshair grabbed onto Hunter’s shoulder and started pulling him forward. He blinked several times as his ears started to adjust to the new noise. The drums were getting louder again, and Hunter groaned at the combination of everything assaulting his senses at once.

He took stumbling footsteps as Crosshair dragged him through the hallway. He could just make out Skeet ahead of them, firing his blaster at the crazed troopers that jumped out at them. He shook his head violently, trying to ignore all the noise so he wouldn’t have to be dragged around like a tooka doll.

Eventually, he felt well enough to run on his own, and pulled away from Crosshair. The sharpshooter immediately brought up his firepuncher and fired at the troopers chasing them. Hunter risked a glance back and his heart almost fell out of his chest. There were so many troopers. They looked mad, utterly insane.

Some crawled on the ground like rabid beasts, others stumbled around like the classic zombies, and some were in full on sprints. Hunter quickly unsheathed one of his throwing knives and did as best he could to help slow them down.

Each time he hit a trooper, they got up seconds later, even if he hit them in the throat or any other vital part. Whatever these troopers were now, they weren’t alive enough to be killed. He turned back around and focused on following Skeet to safety. If they could outrun them, they would be okay.

“Skeet!” Hunter called to the trooper. He saw how the clone almost stopped dead in his tracks, used to COs giving him orders. Skeet instead turned halfway to look at Hunter through the visor of his helmet. “Get us to the med-bay, our brothers are there.” He ordered quickly. Skeet gave a silent nod, then changed course.

“We gotta lose them first, follow me!” Skeet called. He picked up the pace, getting ahead of the other two troopers. Hunter and Crosshair shared a quick glance as they ran, before speeding up to fall in line with the young trooper.

Another yell cut through the air. Hunter and Crosshair both flinched and looked behind them. He resisted the urge to stop completely.

“Was that…” Crosshair trailed off. He didn’t want to finish the question as much as Hunter didn’t want to answer it.

“Wrecker.” Even so, he answered. Because he couldn’t deny it. That was the yell that Wrecker made every time he was about to barrel down a hallway and attack. It sounded wrong.

They continued forward, twisting and turning through the blood stained hallways. Hunter felt tears pinprick at his eyes. They couldn’t stop, there were too many. But Wrecker needed them. He couldn’t just let his little brother fight alone.

“Hurry it up!” Skeet yelled back at the two. Hunter let out a ragged breath. He couldn’t go back. He couldn’t risk putting this kid and Crosshair in danger. He couldn’t go help his brother.

As soon as the door opened, Tech heard frantic footsteps. He didn’t have the chance to turn around when a heavy weight landed on him and forced him behind a medical bed that was overturned. Tech struggled for a moment before a hand was placed over his mouth and a scomp arm pressed into his chest.

Tech stopped as he realized that Echo had been the one to grab him. Echo had seen something Tech hadn’t. He silently observed that Echo was still alert and had good reflexes. His flare up seems to have receded by now.

Tech had been positioned where the door was in his blind spot, he had no idea who had entered when it opened. From the way Echo was acting, he guessed it wasn’t any of their brothers. He doubted the regs that were seemingly immune would come back here, if they were still alive.

A series of strange clicking and gurgles answered Tech’s question. They seemed rhythmic, and held emotion, like the troopers were really having a conversation. All of it was more proof of their intelligence.

“Is anyone here?” One asked, sounding strangled and pained. There was a small series of giggles before the trooper continued. “I took care of the monsters.” It ended with wet coughs, then heaving gasps. Tech didn’t think he’d ever heard a worse imitation, even the trooper that Echo had pinned sounded more human than this.

Echo removed the hand he held to Tech’s mouth. Tech shuffled a bit away, still concealed by the overturned bed. He fought the urge to peek behind it, to see the trooper’s positions. It would risk his own being discovered.

He could hear more stumbling footsteps join the group. More troopers were actively entering the room. Tech turned quickly back to Echo, who had a serious and determined look on his face. He didn’t miss the hints of pain and the way his hand shook though.

Tech signed quickly how many he suspected being in the room. Echo nodded stiffly. They were vastly outnumbered, and Tech estimated that he had undercounted. He frowned as he tried to come up with some sort of plan that didn’t end terribly.

“Hello?” One drawled, accentuating the “o.” Tech tensed as he heard the footsteps move closer. He unholstered his blaster. A few of the troopers cackled again. They sounded manic, and brought chills up Tech’s spine.

He held his breath as the footsteps got closer. He lost count of how many were in the room, too many for them to take. Why had he let Wrecker leave them alone? His lip trampled as his heart sped up.

Echo placed an equally shaky hand on Tech’s shoulder. He knew he was trying to ground the splicer, but it only seemed to make it worse. Echo could be one of those monsters in a few hours if he didn’t get to work right now.

The footsteps were right at the overturned bed. Tech could feel the trooper looming over them, his shadow peeking through gaps. Tech clenched his fists, holding his blaster like a lifeline, which it usually was.

Tech saw the trooper place his hand on the top of the bed, as if he were about to look over. They would be spotted. They would be ambushed and terrifyingly outnumbered. They would be killed. He moved to place his back against Echo. He didn’t want to be the reason the ARC died.

Echo had been through so much and had bounced back. How can someone possibly bounce back from being torn limb from limb like the corpse Echo had described had been? This was Tech’s fault. He let Wrecker go, he would have stayed if Tech asked him to. He forgot to seal the door after Wrecker left, not thinking about the fact that doors can’t be sealed from the outside.

Why couldn’t he think right? Why was he messing up? Why wouldn’t he just jump out and give Echo a chance at finding some way to escape instead of sit here like a toobie? Oh maker, the trooper’s head was peeked over the bed now, he would be able to see them in seconds.

No, no, he couldn’t leave his brothers alone. They were somewhere in this facility and they needed him and Echo to survive. They needed them for so many things. Who would fix the Marauder? Who would hack into separatist systems? Who would-

A loud clatter made Tech jump. The trooper stopped in his movement, and turned away. He turned away. He didn’t see them. There wasn’t a swarm of zombie troopers attacking them. They didn’t know they were there.

Echo grabbed Tech’s hand and pulled him into a tight hug. He gladly accepted it. They had both almost been murdered, he could stand to accept a hug for surviving. He released a shaky, quiet breath. There were tears leaking onto his cheeks, though he couldn’t tell if they were from relief or the quickly dissipating fear.

Beep! beep! Beep!

Both clones froze. With wide eyes, they turned their head to look at the machine Tech had been running tests on the samples with. It had gone off. It had found something. Tech didn’t even get the chance to be happy that he found something before the bed they hid behind was thrown to the side by two undead troopers. Many more were gathered behind them, their dead eyes shining in the red emergency lighting.

Echo grabbed Tech again and shielded him as one lunged, teeth barred in a horrific, bloodied grin. Tech pulled up his blaster and fired wildly, Echo doing similarly. The trooper that had lunged fell to the ground after several blasts to the chest.

They moved on to firing at the rest of the crowd, all trying to get close enough to kill. Echo held his scomp in front of Tech to block any troopers trying to jump at the splicer.

Several more troopers fell, painting the already bloodied med-bay with a fresh coat of crimson. More and more kept on joining the fray. They would be overrun before long, Tech knew it. His heart pounded in his chest.

He couldn’t leave his brothers alone. They needed him. If they had been exposed to the sickness while they've been separated, then they needed Tech. He couldn’t just leave them to suffer the fate that all these troopers met.

Another lunged at the two, this time knocking Echo over before he could take him down. Tech heard the sickening, metallic thud as Echo’s headpiece hit the ground. Just like before when the ARC had been pinned by the crazed troopers, he held his scomp arm up to hold the trooper back.

Tech raised his blaster, trying to find a clear enough shot to help Echo. Tech heard the crunch of metal as the trooper bit down on Echo’s scomp. He once again regretted that the metal appendage was connected to his neural network, and so had to have pain receptors in place.

Before he could get a clear shot, a weight barreled into him as a trooper knocking him to the ground. His blaster was knocked from his hand and slid across the ground. He instinctively held his hands up and pushed against the trooper’s face as he fought to find a place to bite.

His jaw snapped open and closed as the trooper tried to nip at Tech’s fingers. His nails were digging into Tech’s shoulders, creasing his blacks. He could hear manic laughing as the other troopers cheered. They were insane, they were really insane. They were insane and would kill Tech and Echo.

Drool fell onto Tech’s visor and he openly sobbed. The trooper’s eyes were wide and dilated, not at all like how Echo had described it. Red veins showed across his face and ran down his neck before they were concealed by his blacks.

Tech pushed fruitlessly against the trooper’s face. He tried desperately to knock him off. His arms felt weak, and tired, losing strength as he fought so hard to keep the trooper away. They would give out soon enough, and Tech would be as good as dead.

He was going to die. Without him, Echo would die, even if he made it out of this fight. His brothers would die if they tried looking for him, if they went any further in the compound. This trooper’s gleeful, bloodshot eyes would be the last thing he ever saw.

End Notes: yippee more cliffhangers! :3 I'm really glad to have finally gotten to where I can include my little guy, Skeet! He's gonna play a somewhat important role for revealing more and more stuff about the zombies as the story continues and speaking of which, I still haven't really been writing it... but there are still a few more chapters that i have already done! I just need to get back into star wars for me to get more motivation on this.. which might mean that once I'm out of new chapters there'll be a somewhat long hiatus :/ either way, I'll do my best to keep writing! and I rlly hope you enjoyed this chp <3

Next Chp.

NPT: @squad-724 @arctrooper69 @weyrwolfen @clownery-and-fuckery @charlieisannoying

@greyangelpain @zilvercrystal @travellingnorthwards @lifblogs @electrikworm

@buniby @thora-sniper @restrospect1003 @dizzy-9906

[disneyanddisneyships]

💧 DROPLET - random angst headcanon

All of ur ocs

Oh god... this is gonna take a while.

Furcalor: the reason she hates men is because of how she's seen women be treated throughout the centuries, and how before she knew she only liked girls, she made the mistake of dating a guy

Roxxie: she's a kind heart. Always has been. But when she was a kid her mother berated her for it. She was yelled at for being kind to a stray hellhound (maybe a new oc of mine) her mother yelled at her because this is hell and no one should help anyone.

Cordelia: if her parents were to ever meet Chaz, they would probably hate him so much ththey'either order Cordelia not to be with him,, or they'd cut all ties with Cordelia because of him and then make it seem like her fault.

Aella: her divorce was rough as shit. Her husband was a manipulative asshole, and the worst part is that her kid still has to see him on weekends. She cries on those days.

Aponi: the first time she slept with alastor because he was in heat, she thought he loved her because of the things he said to her while they were... ya know.... but later when she saw how he acted around other demons in the colony she overthunk everything so much that she didn't eat for two weeks.

Ella: ella has panic attacks about the war. She will have bad flashbacks of Alistar dying at the same time asEli. Sometimes the nightmares take it a step further when she turns around and sees that everyone has died. She wakes up (or comes back to reality) almost inconsolable most of the time.

Mia: the first time she and loreley got into a fight, she cried so hard because she thought loreley was going to leave her. (Bb girl has abandonment issues)

Alistar: he wanted to bad to contact ella when his father was abusing him because he wanted his best friend back. But the first few times he tried, ella made no effort in return, and he sunk further into madness.

Eli: Eli is very scared that ella will leave him. Every time they get into a small fight he starts crying and apologizes because he doesn't want her to dissapear.

Loreley: she's so so so scared of Mia getting hurt..... it took everything in her in the sequel to even let Mia go on the adventure. Loreley is the daughter of hades, theres people after her. She gets scared that they'd find her one day and use Mia against her.

Deena: Deena's tail used to be a bright blue, and her skin used to be a normal shade. but when she watched her sister die, everything changed. (Think of that one scene in the movie "trolls" where branch just.... gets darker)

Alruna: she almost lost her father in the war. Now she has constant nightmares about it.

Eve: eve carries the burdens of all of her friends. She never accepts help for herself. One day she has a sensory overload breakdown in her shop. Alone.

Clare: even though they bicker and fight, she still loves her brother.... so when he banished her off of his ship it hurt like a bitch. and that's why she stole it from him..... she lives with the thought that he hated her and would never forgive her.

Jacob: while Jacob does like the read, sometimes he just... wants to go be a normal person, pet a dog, hang out with his friends....

Carol: after she got married, she rarely saw her father. One day her father came to visit and he spotted the bruises on her arms and face.... he didn't do anything

Eathan: the day he and Carolyn broke up when they were young was the worst day of his life. He was so in love with her, and she ended it as if it meant nothing. He promised himself he'd wait for her.

Rosalyn: thus bb has abandonment issues. So sometimes when she wakes up alone in the bed and alistar isn't there she'll start to cry because she thought he finally left her. Onky for him to walk in with breakfast in bed for her.

Hope: has anxiety passed down from her parents. (The genetic kind. Wooooo) and she was alone when she had her first anxiety attack.

Caspian: when he found out Clare stole his ship he was livid, but when he found out she didn't come back WITH it? He spent weeks searching for his sister on any island he could find. He never found her.

[drawdrawjessi]

Hazbin Hotel OC Info:

Spunky

Basic Info:

As one of VoxTube’s biggest stars, Spunky has suppressed many of Hell’s views with her twisted and crass sense of humor. Little does she realize she would become a refugee at the Hazbin Hotel from that one faithful night when Heaven’s exterminators mysteriously appeared, plus she’ll reunite with a certain someone who’s 1930’s charisma and chivalry has enamored her years prior to the hotel.

Cause of Death: Firework explosion accident from internet video trend.

Age: Early to Mid 20s(Born in 1995, but died in 2016)

Sinner species: Spider (Peacock spider)

Personality: Charsimatic, has a bit of a temper, a bit dramatic, sarcastic, mischievous, masochistic, and a Tsundere(can be a total ass to people but does warm up to the people she's closer with and becomes a softy), becomes very bashful when Alastor is around (only after she comes to the hotel) 🥰

Gender: Female (Gender Non Conforming) She/Her/They

Sexuality: Gray-Asexual (Demi/Heteromantic)

Likes:

🕷Pranks

🕷Getting a rise out of people

🕷Vaping Weed

🕷Blue

🕷Brigadeiros (Brazilian BonBons)

🕷Shady (Her three-headed female Cerberus Rottweiler)

🕷Any technology that she can get her hands on to tinker and fidget

🕷️The feeling of familial love even if she acts like she doesn’t want it (thus making the Hazbin crew her found family, mostly Angel Dust being her found big brother)

🕷A certain gentleman from the ‘30s that she developes a crush on whom she doesn’t realize he’s the Urban Legend Radio Demon until at the hotel😏

Dislikes:

🕷️ Anything that will make her have sensory overload. For example: Large crowds (especially noisy ones), loud noises, tactile sensitivity, and strong smells.

🕷Her body (is dysmorphic about her weight and self-h*rm scratches/bite marks on her arms)

🕷Losing her status on Social Media/VoxTube

🕷Velvette’s constant insults

🕷Vox’s emotional and manipulative abuse

🕷️Her parents, aka the very bane of her existence who emotionally neglected her , put in child social services (allegedly due to her mother), and never came to get her throughout her foster care years.

Abilities:

- Retractable spider legs (From the back as an easy way to climb)

- Weapon Proficiency (Roman Candles/big Harley Quinn-esk mallet)

- Computer/tech building

- Computer/internet hacking

- Athleticism (Parkour)

- Shadow Manipulation (As camouflage)

- Multilingualism (Little bit Russian, mostly Brazilian Portuguese)

- Weather sensitivity

Ref sheet by @dramokin

[blackjackkent]

PUPPIES BEHIND THE POST HOUSE!

The lady running the kennel was being a massive dick to her assistant when we arrived, and is a real ass to Hector, too:

"Woof!"

"I beg your pardon?"

"Ah. You speak. Which means you're not a dog. So what the hell are you doing in my kennels?"

Hector dislikes her immediately.

"I think I found one of your dogs," he says. It's a bit of a stall for time, while he tries to get a read on this woman and how much he needs to stand up for those under her care. "Scratch." This is a guess - but he's perceptive and recognizes the collars on some of the other dogs, and the breeds seem similar as well.

The woman raises an eyebrow. "Found him, did you? I can't say I'm surprised. Gomwick never kept him on a tight leash."

A pause, and then abruptly her whole attitude shifts, a smile pushing across her face.

"Bring him here, and I'll give him a once-over for you. Check him for worms and so on."

"Oh, yes, please!" her young assistant says excitedly. "I'd love to see him."

"He's a good dog," the kennelmaster says, still with that same fixed grin. "We'd *both* love to see him again."

Hector, as usual, loses something of the nuance of this conversation. Scratch *is* a good dog, after all, and this seems like a generous offer. The chance to make sure Scratch is happy and healthy seems important; they've all come to rely on him as a source of a smile at the end of a long day.

He whistles softly, and the dog comes bounding into the yard excitedly.

As soon as he sees the kennelmaster, though, his entire bearing shifts. His ears go back, his tail goes down, and he moves to Hector's side, just shy of cowering behind him.

Hector's eyes narrow as he parses the dog's behavior. This is not normal for the usually excitable dog, who has loved meeting all the new people in the camp. Even Aylin, who terrifies everyone, has gotten an excited lick from the pup on occasion. But this postman's kennel keeper has him terrified.

"Scratch!" the assistant says excitedly. "It's good to see you, boy!"

"Shut up, Dringo," the woman snaps. "And get back to work."

She rounds on Hector and the dog, lifts a hand as if to strike him; Scratch cowers backwards with a whimper.

"And you've been slacking as well, Scratch, m'boy," she says with a nasty smile. Her eyes flick to glare coolly at Hector. "This dog is property of Sword Coast Couriers. I'll take him off your hands now."

"The fuck you will," Karlach mutters behind Hector.

Hector's expression doesn't shift, but inwardly he feels anger starting to boil. What is wrong with the people of this city? Berating refugees, beating dogs... is there any innocent they aren't treading on?

And, deeper even then that... on a perhaps-less-admirable personal level... this is his dog. His family's dog (for that is what they are now, really, isn't it?). This dog has traveled through hell with them. And this woman wants to threaten to hit him? To take him?

No.

"You shouldn't raise your hand to him like that," he says coldly.

"I can do whatever I please," the woman snaps back. "He's my dog. Now get out - this is a private yard."

Perhaps Hector did not realize until this moment quite how important Scratch has been to him. The pup has been a constant almost since their first day on the road. Most mornings he wakes up with Scratch (and sometimes Buddy too) curled up against his bedroll. Scratch has licked his wounds and his face after bad fights. Scratch has fought off predators around the edge of camp. Scratch has made all of them smile when there was nothing to smile about.

And now, suddenly, the idea of this horrible woman taking him away makes something snap a little inside him - some of the tension that has been building up through all of the sensory overload and depressing social realizations of Rivington.

[INTIMIDATION] "I'll break every bone in your body," he says, slow and cold and steady, "before I let you hurt that dog." His expression has not shifted, his body has not moved. But this is one tiny cruelty, one tiny injustice, that he can stop, and he is not budging.

The woman's eyebrows shoot up and for a moment the cold confidence vanishes. She looks startled - and more than a little concerned. "You-- you'll do no such thing," she stammers.

Dringo, seeing a crack in his employer's attitude perhaps for the first time ever, pipes up nervously. "It's not just Scratch!" he says. "She's always hurting the dogs."

Hector was afraid of that.

"Shut your mouth, Dringo!" the woman snarls, one fist going up towards the boy just as she raised her hand towards the dog. "Last warning."

This is all enough for Hector. He's done with this woman's cruelty.

[INTIMIDATION] "I'll give you to the count of ten to leave these kennels," he says softly. "One. Two..."

Her head snaps back. She can tell he's ready to make good on the threat, so furious as she is, she doesn't question it.

"Fine. You think you can do a better job without me? Be my guest. They're a useless bunch of mongrels and you're welcome to them."

She stalks off without a backwards glance. Dringo, excited, immediately begins opening all the cages and letting the dogs out to wander in the yard.

"You-- you got rid of her," he says to Hector with wide eyes, clearly not quite believing it still. "I'll do a better job looking after these dogs than she ever did. I promise."

[thisbrilliantsky]

reminds me of a conversation my mom, my sisters, and i had about whether we woulda/coulda/shoulda been in public school; my mom said she thought in hindsight my older sister mightve done better (not that she did badly but yk) in public school bc when she took co-op classes she excelled bc of her competitiveness (she and another student always had the 1st or 2nd best grades and she wanted to Beat Him); victoria probably would've been fine/the same as she just kinda did her own thing anyways, but she mightve had an especially good time with a school sports team; me however. we all agreed i wouldve been miserable AND gotten bad grades in a public school. it literally sounds like what would've been Special Hell for me as a child. seeing as i was a) painfully shy, b) excruciatingly anxious, c) had the most difficult time staying on task, and d) was chronically late/took forever to complete assignments. not to mention the constant sensory overload that would turn my brain to mush anyway. :| homeschooling is not for everyone but it certainly was the right choice for me, especially considering my mom was a v good teacher, and could strike the balance between letting me go at my own pace and keeping me on track. sometimes if it took me all day to finish something, it would just take all day. she didn't punish me for it, but i also couldn't just run off and do whatever i wanted

[stranger-rants]

Ever since I learned Billy had anxiety, a lot of things suddenly made sense to me. I have anxiety that sometimes gets really bad, and contrary to how it's shown on media, it's not just stuttering and being extremely nervous. Sometimes yeah, and sometimes it makes me generally extremely pissed off at everything and easily agitated because my brain's a mess, my heart's pounding, everything is going wrong, everything is too loud, and stop talking to me, please shut up. It's something I'm working on, but I also acknowledge I'm not the nicest person when my anxiety's bad.

When Billy's around constant stressors and now no longer has the coping mechanisms he used to have back in California, and altogether in a very stressful and disorienting situation with new place, new people, and no one really leaving him alone, I can't see him being very nice either. Yeah, that doesn't excuse how he treats people, but I can get it. I'd be a little snippy and irritated too if I'm just trying not to get my ass beat because I know I'm living in a minefield of a house where that'll happen if anything goes wrong, and this kid I've been put in charge of keeps mouthing off and pushing. Hell, I have been in that situation when I was younger and still with my dad, and while I never actually put my hands on her, I did yell and say things I regretted later when I'd calmed down.

My anxiety usually manifests in angry outbursts and sensory overload, so I definitely get that. I think similar to how people react to abuse survivors, they want mentally ill people to be quiet about their suffering. Anxiety is “acceptable” only when it looks a certain way. When Billy is anxious, people think he’s just being an asshole and they don’t even acknowledge that he’s stressed out of his mind.

I so appreciate that Dacre as a mentally ill person has tried to reduce the stigma around anxiety and OCD. Like, no, being highly reactive to stress isn’t good especially if it ends up hurting other people. At the same time, it signifies a need for intervention. People can’t function under constant stress without it fucking up their mind and body. I, too, realized I needed help when I was getting triggered way too easily at work and I needed better coping mechanisms. Every time I respond to stress with anger which is how my anxiety manifests most, I then have to talk myself down or find a safer release for it and that’s just far more realistic than “Billy is just an asshole who doesn’t care how his behavior impacts people.” He’s stressed! Chronic stress is toxic. Anxiety can ruin your life, and every anxious person is deserving of help.