#from the anon lol

[ahbeduo]

REALLY?! U WANNA KNOW SUBJECT 2 HCS FROM LIL OLD ME?! HEHEHE I THOUGHT YOUD NEVER ASK!!!

I like to think his name is Dorian :3 leakers were digging in the files a while back and found out that the texture for his model is called “Dorian” so that’s where it came from. Dorian is Greek for “gift”, but also comes from the name Doerain, which means “wanderer” or “exile” which I think is sad but fitting LMAO. (Dorian is also in reference to Oscar Wilde’s novel, The Picture of Dorian Gray. If ur interested u should look into it, bc I’d butcher the summary lol)

I like to think that bros a more feral version of Albedo. Albedo is domesticated, Dorian is not HFHDH. He’s much easier to anger, but he wouldn’t put up a fight unless provoked or attacked first.

The reason…he was never trained in any kind of sword fighting style. He can swing a sword around but there’s a 1/99 chance that it would actually hurt someone.

I gave him a Cryo vision bc I mean. Just look at him. That pathetic little mess of a guy is the archetype for Cryo. I like to think he’s a catalyst user (and his best weapon is “Frostbearer” and he relies on it more than his sword hehe. Playstyle wise I’d make him scale off of ATK to contrast Albedo’s DEF scaling)

For his relationships, he prefers Klee’s more upbeat and bouncy nature. She doesn’t seem to mind that he’s not Albedo, and treats him like a brother regardless. He’d take her fishblasting any day <3

Albedo…he’s wary around. Even if they were to make up and all that, his vibe around would probably be very much the feeling you get when you go over to a friend’s house and you feel like you have to impress their parents in order to be allowed in. Does that make sense?? Basically he’s walking on eggshells even if Albedo tells him he’s fine LMAO

While he’s made his appearance a bit different from Albedo (red/maroon/black color scheme, hair either down on his shoulders or in a low and messy braid, and a little thinner than Albedo due to Albedo having built up muscle from sword-wielding), sometimes he switches back to Albedo’s form to mess with people. Specifically the Traveler. He’s a little prankster!!

Even tho he’s used to the cold, he loves warmth. U light up a fire and Dorian will sit so close his hair will singe at the edges. He also loves spicy food <3 (when he lived in Dragonspine he ate like. Unseasoned roasted meat and snow. So he craves any kind of flavor now)

I hc him as aro-ace, and also nonbinary for some fics I write :D I mostly do that just to differentiate between Albedo and him (I write him without a name sometimes so using the “he/him” pronouns twice over without stating who’s speaking is very complicated so I use “they/them” for ease of reading) but also bc I feel like. After 500 years of sleeping in poison dragon tummy soup, one would sort of dissociate from the whole gender thing.

Hehehehehe there u go there’s some hcs 👉👈 I love my little guy he’s so sad and I LOOOOOVE the angst potential with him. Lmk what u think :D

uwahhhh those are yummy, thank you for the snacks 😋

Idk what to say there, just know that your HCs are valid! Some of them, like how rocky his relationship with Albedo is, are something i do think of too! Like yeh they cool, but that doesn't erase the fact Albedo is the favourite child. And and and the fact he likes flavours like spicy- I think he doesn't like very sweet things either

[foolsocracy]

u should draw garth and jason interacting. btw. pretty please.

shout out to when they were on a team together for about 2 issues

[mogwaei]

headcanon: they all got fried silly in the Forbidden Oasis. Or maybe this was just an excuse to draw them all shirtless. sorry varric and dorian lol

[candyheartedchy]

Please tell us about the Brainybeth wedding 🙏

Brainy at first puts on this big deal about how everything has to be perfect, bossing everyone around while Elizabeth is just trying to keep everything peaceful and easy for others. But the whole time the wedding is being prepared the two are secretly TERRIFIED that once it's time, neither shows up, both hiding out in the woods separately until they accidentally run into each other and confess about how they are scared of not being good enough for each other. But they do eventually end up getting married :]

[inumbrapugnabimus-maybe]

this glorious picture called to me

thanks for the request anon!!

Here is a closeup of Wild

and also of Hyrule’s magnificent curls :)

[formulanni]

The weight of the world.

Tag list: @st-leclerc @rubywingsracing @saviour-of-lord @three-days-time @the-wall-is-my-goal @albonoooo @ch3rubd0lls @brawngp2009 @korolrezni-nikolai @d00dlespng @beenucks @mintraindrop

[solshii]

Hello! Are we allowed to draw your scumpony designs? :D i love them so much and i wanna draw fanart :)

If not, thats totally okay too! Have a nice day!

hello anon!!

of course you're allowed to draw them <333 my original intent was actually for their designs to be used by others hahaha it would make my day to see how my designs would be used

thank you so much for your love and interest, i cherish it all very much <33

here's background practice as a treat:)

[trashyshrew]

please take care of your hands first! for when your hands get better: lawlight but with light kissing L's grave or something like that, if you can draw that? thanks!

thank you! hopefully i didn't go too far off script with this one...

[bloobydabloob]

Do you think being aware of the different elements in art or just ordinary objects can make the process of actually making art difficult? I get that it's about balance and unity of it all, but being introduced to so many concepts early on feels like too much. Almost feels like learning to make art digitally for the first time -> introduced to all these neat gadgets but no idea how to use them or where

This is a crazy good point anon & very important. YES I think it makes it exponentially harder

[shanastoryteller]

SHANA HAVE YOU SEEN ARCANE? IF NOT GO DO THAT AND JOIN ME IN MY INSANITY WITH JAYVIK. Otherwise its dealers choice and some happy valentines chocolates for you 💕💋

Castiel has gone rogue, has torn down the wall keeping the cage at bay, and Dean is going to have to face him alone if Sam can’t figure out how to get out of his own head.

Absorbing the memories of what he’d done when he’d been soulless had hurt. To know that any version of him was capable of that kind of callousness, of the kind of ruthless efficiency he’d always turned up his nose at, was a blow.

But absorbing the memories of the cage may very well kill him. Everyone seems to expect it to, if it doesn’t drive him outright insane. It’s likely the most he can hope for is that it leaves him cationic, that he stays in this safe little place in his mind that Lucifer can’t touch and leave the rest of the world to rot. He already destroyed himself to save it once, why should he have to go through that again?

For the same reason he did it the first time.

The world still has Dean in it. He can’t leave his brother to suffer if there’s anything he can do about it.

When he finds across the version of himself that knows the cage, he has to clamp down on the urge to tremble. He’s standing there, half hidden in shadow, leaning against the wall like he can’t hold up his own weight.

He’s covered head to toe in blood.

“Hey,” he says then swallows. Soulless had been aggressive, had been angry, hadn’t hesitated to engage with him. Cage seems like he can barely keep breathing.

It’ll make him easy to kill, easy to reintegrate, but he doesn’t know what that will leave him as when he’s done.

Just killing the guy after everything he’s been though doesn’t seem right. He licks his lips. “Look, I don’t know how aware you are of everything that’s going on, but I – we – I mean.” He swallows. “Dean’s in trouble and I can’t help him without remembering. Everything. And I know I’m not strong enough to deal with everything you’ve delt with-”

“Why do you say that?”

Sam startled. Cage’s voice is raspy, but not weak. There’s no fear, no tears, just simple curiosity. “I – what?”

“Why do you say that?” Cage repeats.

“I,” he thinks back on Soulless’s memories, of how he’d been on board with getting his soul back up until he’d found out what it would do to him, of how they’d described the tattered remains of who he used to be. “They said it would destroy me. You don’t – you don’t look to be in great shape.”

Cage shrugs. “People have always underestimated us, Sam. You know that. They didn’t think we’d be able to take control of Lucifer and we did that.”

“What?” he laughs incredulously. “It was just a hunky dory time in there with Lucifer? You look like shit.”

“And you think Lucifer did this to us?” Cage smiles, Sam can see the white of his teeth against his blood covered face. It should be disturbing, a sign of a cracked mind, a cracked soul, but it just looks like a normal smile. “You know us. You know us better than I do at this point. When have we ever stopped fighting?”

“We fought the devil,” he says flatly. “In the cage.”

“Do you know what powers angel’s grace? Demon’s abilities?” he asks.

Sam shakes his head.

“Human souls,” he says. “It’s the greatest source of power on any of the three planes. And if you know Enochian, you can harness that same power. It took a while, but eventually we learned.” He tilts his head to the side. “I won’t lie, Sam. Lucifer put us through things that no person should experience, a type of hell that broke us more than once. But we were in that cage a long, long time. Souls heal. Grace disconnected from heaven just runs out. I’m thankful to be out, but given a few more centuries, well. Lucifer wouldn’t just be in the cage. He’d be gone.”

Sam doesn’t understand, doesn’t believe it. “So you used your own soul to fight the devil? With the angel’s language? That’s–”

“What did we have to lose?” Cage interrupts. “Michael and Lucifer distracted each other occasionally, and Michael keeps Adam unaware. All we had was fighting and surviving. If we could kill Lucifer for good, what did it matter what state it left our soul in?”

“Then why hide?” he challenges. “Death and Castiel put you away. Why hide even now? If it’s not that bad, why let yourself be walled away?”

“It is that bad,” Cage says softly. “You’re just that strong.”

Sam swallows.

He used to believe that about himself.

“I’ve spent centuries in the cage,” he says. “Some days I barely remember life on Earth. I’ve changed. I had no reason not to.” He looks away for the first time. “I did it for Dean. I never forgot that. And Dean got me out, he saved me, but,” he meets Sam’s eyes. “I remember what it was like to have Dean look at me like he didn’t recognize me. I didn’t want to go through that again. You, he knew. You, he recognized. I thought it was better. You didn’t need the person you became in the cage once we were out of it and I wanted,” he cuts himself off again.

It's okay.

Sam knows.

“You wanted to be someone Dean would be willing to sell his soul for,” Sam says.

He’d never wanted what Dean did, but he’s always felt crushed under the weight of being worthy of it, of the loss and fear when he felt he wasn’t. It’s such a fucked up metric to measure love against, if someone would be willing to go to hell for you, but Dean’s the one who set it. He’s just following suit.

He’d do anything for Dean.

“Dean needs our help,” Sam says. “Castiel-”

“I know,” Cage says. “Even a juiced up Cas isn’t Lucifer. We’ll be able to take care of him. You need to know what I know and there’s no way to teach you Enochian without everything you had to go through to learn it. I’m sorry.”

“We’ve got a year of fresh memories,” he says. “A year of our life on earth front and center. It’ll help. They won’t feel so far away from us after.”

Dean will still love them after.

“You hope,” Cage scoffs.

Sam smiles and lifts a shoulder in a half shrug. “Yeah. It’s all we’ve ever had, right?”

Cage smiles again, pushing off the wall to stumble forward. Sam catches him when his knees buckle, looking into his own face, his own eyes. They are different. But not unfamiliar.

Souls heal. Whatever Lucifer did to him, whatever he did to himself in there, it’s not irreversible. There’s a difference between scarred and bleeding.

“You’re going to be okay,” Cage says, offering him a knife that Sam hadn’t even noticed him carrying. “You can do this.”

Sam swallows, giving a nod before taking the hilt and plunging it into Cage’s chest. He holds him through it, hearing the wet gasp against his hear. “Yes,” he says softly. “We can.”

When he opens his eyes in the panic room, all versions of him settled into one, into just Sam, he doesn’t waste time mourning the people he used to be.

Dean needs him.

[hazbinhotei]

the devil's note.

warnings/tags: jazz singer!reader, alastor only has like one line of dialogue in this lol

word count: 2793

summary: As a talented and enchanting jazz singer, your performance turns personal when your bold teasing leaves the Radio Demon speechless.

alastor x f!reader. thank you to the anon who requested this story! guess who's back!~ so... i haven't uploaded in 10 days. i think you are all due for an apology, but i hope swear i'm not giving up on this account so quickly, so hopefully more uploads come along soon! i have many part two concepts in my head (including this story)—but the question is if i can write it all out before life gets to me. enjoy!

The day had started with one of Angel Dust’s usual antics—a grand proclamation over breakfast, fork twirling in hand, eyes glinting with flamboyant mischief.

"Alright, listen up, bitches! I got somethin’ special planned for tonight, and no, Vaggie, it ain't one of my 'educational' excursions, so don’t get your panties in a twist!" He waved a pink-gloved hand as if to ward off her immediate disapproval, grinning as he leaned back in his chair. "I’m talkin’ class, I'm talkin’ style, I'm talkin’ one of the best damn voices to ever grace the depths of Hell."

Vaggie narrowed her right eye, sitting up as she glanced at Charlie beside her. "This isn’t another one of your weird ‘bonding activities,’ is it? Like—like that time you tried to get us to go to a ‘How-to-Moan’ class?"

Angel scoffed. "Okay, that was one time, and I still think it woulda been fun!” He huffed, shaking his head to dismiss his previous rejected suggestion. “But no, babe, this is different! I got this girlfriend performing tonight, the kinda doll that could sing the socks off of any demon. Total smoke show, like an absolute bombshell—think old Hollywood but with a fuckin' bite!"

Vaggie sighed, leaning forward on the table, her forehead dropping into her hand. "This is gonna be a disaster, isn't it?"

Charlie bit down on her lower lip, hesitating before curiosity won out. She rubbed a hand over Vaggie's back, consoling her girlfriend as she asked, "What kind of venue?"

"A jazz club!" Angel declared, tossing his upper arms up with a twirl. "Live music, good booze, and a vibe that ain't total chaos—betcha didn’t expect that from me, huh?"

That immediately caught Alastor’s (previously devoid) attention, ears flickering up as his half-lidded eyes opened up. His usual grin stretched just a fraction wider with newfound interest. "A jazz club, you say?" His voice was light, laced with curiosity, a lilting note of intrigue threading through each syllable. "Now that sounds like a lovely way to spend an evening."

Charlie’s attention snapped to Alastor, ecstatic to see him actually interested in a group bonding activity for once. She immediately whipped her head back to Vaggie, who merely groaned in response to her partner’s current puppy-dog expression. Vaggie only sighed once more, pursing her lips. “Fine, we can go.”

And just like that, the deal was sealed.

The moment the doors swung open to The Devil’s Note, a sultry jazz bar nestled in the heart of Pentagram City, the group was automatically enveloped in a haze of warm, dim light and the slow, hypnotic strum of a double bass. The scent of whiskey and aged cigars wove through the air, mingling with the perfume of debauchery and whispered secrets.

Velvet drapes cascaded from the ceiling like blood-red waterfalls, framing mahogany walls adorned with vintage jazz posters and golden sconces that flickered with an otherworldly glow. A grand chandelier loomed above, its many crystal facets casting fractured light across the glossy black floors.

Husk barely had a moment to process the room before a passing server—impeccably dressed in a maroon vest and black bow tie—wordlessly handed him a fresh glass of whiskey. He took it without hesitation, grunting in approval before muttering, "Yeah. This place ain't half bad."

Vaggie, arms crossed and brow furrowed, took a slow, assessing look around before finally conceding, "This is… surprisingly nice."

Angel Dust twirled, four arms outstretched as he breathed it all in. "I know, right? Y’all thought I was gonna drag ya to some sleazy strip joint, huh? Give me some credit!" He leaned against Husk, smirking as Husk coughed mid-sip from the sudden movement. "Even whiskers over here is enjoying himself."

Charlie, expression starry with admiration, nodded vigorously. "I wasn’t expecting something this elegant! It’s like stepping into another era."

And yet, amidst all the chatter and appreciation, Alastor stood eerily still. His smile remained, but his gaze told a different story—nostalgia. He surveyed the space with an unsettling kind of familiarity, his fingers ghosting over the back of a chair as though touching a memory brought to life. The phonograph in the corner crackled softly beneath the low hum of conversation. The brass instruments glinted under dim golden light, polished and pristine. Authentic.

He inhaled steadily, deep and deliberate. "Now, this," he murmured, voice almost reverent, "is a proper establishment."

And with that, the group was ushered to a candle-lit table near the stage, where they settled into a plush, curved leather booth, sipping on devilishly strong drinks while Angel Dust gleefully droned on about how they were in for a real treat. Niffty bounced excitedly beside him, her tiny hands gripping the table as she took in every detail, while Husk, already halfway through his second drink, merely grunted in pacified patience. Vaggie remained reserved but intrigued next to an energetic Charlie who was practically vibrating with elation at the sight of the entire group together in an area that wasn’t the hotel. 

Even Alastor quieted his usual accompanying static, a sign of respect for the Hellborn jazz band on stage. His glowing eyes flickered about the place, his smile satisfied as he tapped along to the beat with a clawed thumb. He had been prepared for tacky, garish decor, for a club that spat on the essence of true jazz. But this—this felt like a whisper from the past, an echo of something he once knew. The deep thrum in his chest from the bass, the filtered wah-wah notes of the trumpet, the sharp keys from the piano—it was real.

His head began bobbing in time with the beat, and before long, he was humming—low, rich, an effortless accompaniment to the imps filling the room with old-world soul. His foot, ever so slightly, tapped along with the rhythm in addition to his thumb. It was a rare sight—Alastor, not just half-assed listening, but feeling the music, letting it settle into him like it was a life source.

Charlie, observing him from behind, leaned toward Vaggie with a hushed whisper. "He looks… natural like this. Like he belongs here."

Angel grinned as he overheard the princess’ words, twirling the stem of his glass between his fingers. "Ain’t seen nothin’ yet, toots." His mismatched eyes twinkled, delight bubbling just beneath his tone. "Just wait ‘til the real show starts."

As if on cue, the lights began to dim. A few guests around the club perked up, their murmurs laced with anticipation. The energy in the room shifted as a golden spotlight shined on the center of the stage, buzzing quietly with unspoken thrill.

A hush fell over the crowd as the jazz band eased into a rich, sultry melody, the notes weaving through the air like smoke curling from the end of a cigarette. The suspense in the room was palpable, some guests shifting forward in their seats, their low whispers betraying excitement. Then, as if answering their call, a graceful silhouette stepped into the soft light, emerging from the shadows.

You.

Draped in liquid satin, the deep emerald fabric of your gown clung to your curves like it had been painted on, the thigh-high slit revealing glimpses of silk stockings as you moved. Diamond earrings kissed your neck, sparkling under the spotlight, while a matching necklace sat snug at your throat, a glittering noose of old money elegance. Every inch of you screamed dangerously expensive, an untouchable femme fatale gracing Hell with her presence.

The moment your ruby lips curled into a relaxed, sly smile, the room seemed to exhale all at once—entranced, bewitched. Every step you took was intentional, high heels clicking softly against the stage as you moved with the languid finesse of a panther on the prowl. The mic stand welcomed the brush of your fingers, cool metal against your skin, and for a brief moment, you let the silence stretch—letting them wait, letting them want as you surveyed the crowd with bated breath.

Then—

You sang.

A voice like silk and sin, rich with the kind of confidence that came from knowing the effect you had. The song had started off with a bang, your voice powerful as you rang out the first electrifying note—long, steady, and clear proof of your skill. Your opening riff dripped with seduction, wrapping around the room like a velvet ribbon. Conversations hushed. All eyes were on you. 

Even Alastor’s.

He sat unnaturally still, red eyes burning like embers, fingers tightening around the glass of whiskey in his hand. His ever-present smile had not faltered, and yet, there was something in the way his shoulders tensed, in the way his ears twitched as if trying to resist the very essence of your voice. His chest felt tight with a new emotion he could not quite place, his mind suddenly empty of all other thoughts as he watched you sway on stage.

The musicians followed in suit once you sang the opening, the floor vibrating as the swell of jazz rolled through the room like thunder dipped in honey. Every instrument answered your voice like a well-trained lover—sharp when you snapped, soft when you slinked. You didn’t just sing; you prowled, you played, you performed. Your hips moved with the rhythm, and every gesture was a magnetic force of perfected deliberation. Notes curved out of you like smoke rings, leaving the room hanging on every breath.

As the final note lingered in the air, a wave of applause rippled through the audience. To Angel's excitement, his group all seemed to be giving signs of approval. Charlie and Niffty were clapping fervently, and even the usual impassive faces of Vaggie and Husk were now adorned with impressed expressions. And Alastor… He clapped too—but it was precise, calculated. Each movement measured, restrained, as his eyes smoldered with sudden intensity.

Angel leaned back, throwing an arm over the back of the booth, grinning smugly at the group. “Ain’t she great?” he drawled, clearly reveling in their reactions.

As the applause settled, you bowed elegantly, sending a charming smile to the crowd. “Enjoy your night at The Devil’s Note, darlings. There’s more where that came from—so stay tuned.”

The small crowd applauded a second time, your band picking up the beat once more as the lights cleared just slightly for an intermission. In the downtime, you spotted Angel in the crowd, a flicker of recognition lighting up your expression as you stepped down from the stage. You snaked towards their booth with effortless grace, the attention of a few Sinners lingering on you as you passed their tables to get to your good friend.

“Angel!” you called out, sliding up beside him as he beamed at you. “You always know how to gather an…”—You glanced at the motley crew, blinking in surprise as you took in his choice of accompanies tonight—”interesting crowd.”

He wrapped his upper arms around you, hugging you tightly as he gestured to the group with a free hand. “Doll, meet my weird-ass roommates. We got Charlie, she’s the princess—yeah, that princess. Vaggie, her overprotective watchdog. Husk—he’s grumpy but I promise he’s warming up to me.”

Husk snorted. “Not in a million years.”

Angel waved him off, continuing down the line. “That’s Niffty, she’s a firecracker, and last but definitely the freakiest—Alastor, ya know, the Radio Demon.”

After greeting each member individually, your gaze finally landed on the Sinner across from you, who sat ever so still in the curved booth, his grin wide as you both studied each other. You hummed softly when you met his red eyes, glowing with something akin to curiosity. You had heard of the Radio Demon in passing conversations throughout your time in Hell, but you had never expected him to be such a… dapper fellow.

He was dressed in a crimson pinstripe suit, essentially blending in seamlessly with the aesthetic of the club. The sharp cut of his jacket accentuated his tall frame, and the dark shadows surrounding him only seemed to grow in the candlelight, casting an eerie silhouette behind him. You almost had to hold back a laugh at the odd addition of two tiny prongs of antlers jutting between his large red ears—an unexpectedly cute detail that clashed comically with the otherwise pristine 1930s vibe he was going for. Something in his expression, the way his grip tensed around the glass at the way you watched him, made your brow lift in amusement. He studied you in return not with disdain, nor indifference, but with something far more interesting—contemplation. It made the hair on the back of your neck stick up; how thrillingly dangerous.

You leaned in slowly, purposeful, your elbow hitting the table as you rested your chin against your palm. You let the tension stretch, your head tilting as your charming smile morphed into a wide smirk. His watching eyes only seemed to track your every move, his body tensing slightly as if he were waiting for an attack. Then, with a teasing, sensual tone, you tilted your head and purred—

“You seem uncomfortable. Do I make you nervous?”

A flicker of something unreadable passed through his eyes, stunned into silence by your words. His ears shot straight up, blinking several times at you as if he couldn’t believe what you just said. The rest of the group seemed equally shocked by your bold move—both Charlie’s and Vaggie’s jaws dropped at your provocative comment as Husk merely took a long, slow sip of his drink to hide his amused smirk at Alastor's dumbfounded expression.

A second of quiet tension passed before Angel burst into laughter, cackling loudly. “Toots, you’ve seriously got a death wish! Fuckin’ flirting with the Radio Demon—I swear I’ve never met a gal as crazy as you!”

You turned back to the spider beside you, grinning deviously as his arm around your shoulder shook with every guffaw. “Please, I’m only teasing.” You couldn’t help but chuckle alongside Angel, shaking your head as you turned back to look at the rest of the table. “But seriously, I’m glad to have you folks here. Any friend of Angel’s is a friend of mine, so enjoy your time here.”

You backed out of the booth smoothly, gesturing for a passing waiter to bring a fresh round of colorful refreshments to the table. Angel lit up like he’d just witnessed the second coming, beaming at you with pure reverence for the free alcohol. You rolled your eyes with a smirk, giving his shoulder a playful push that made him giggle like a schoolgirl.

As the rest of the group oohed and aahed over the new drinks being set before them, you turned to take your leave—gown swaying around you—but not without one final glance over your shoulder. 

While the others were distracted by the sudden liquor, Alastor’s staring remained fixed on you, unmoving and unblinking. You met his gaze, letting your lashes lower just so. Then, with all the poise of a woman who knew exactly what she was doing, you winked slowly… and blew him a kiss.

His smile snarled, revealing black gums—just for a moment—before your eyes caught the sharp bob of his Adam’s apple in an involuntary gulp. You glanced down at his free hand on the table, his red claws leaving a few scuff marks on the polished mahogany wood. You only huffed a laugh, shaking your head as you turned forward once more.

“For the Radio Demon, you don’t seem to be quite the talker!”

You were met with a sudden burst of radio static, the lamps above you flickering in tandem. You heard a few gasps from the group before Angel’s recognizable laughter rang out once more, wheezing even harder than before. Smirking, you continued on without looking back, sending a fluttering wave to the group behind you.

You ascended the stage once more, your heels clicking against the familiar wooden stage. The imp at the piano glanced back at the commotion, eyes darting between you and the table with a questioning brow, but you snapped your fingers lightly, calling him back to focus. He simply nodded and turned back to the keys.

As you reached for the mic again, you glanced once more toward the table—and found Alastor watching you. His menacing smile remained, tight and strained like a mask held too long. When you both made eye contact, his right eye twitched. You bit your lip, a coy smile tugging at the corners of your mouth, whether that be from your clear effect on the Sinner or the dangerous thrill starting to blossom in your stomach.

Only one thought rang through your mind as you stepped into the spotlight, the music swelling behind you, the room holding its breath once more to hear your voice:

This will be fun.

tag list: @railgunuzi @frompiscium @rose-in-blue @catticora @milkissesx [want to join/be removed from the tag list? check my pinned post!]

[pedgito]

why do pedro fans love infantilising him calling a 50 year old man babygirl its weird to me

he's literally wearing a shirt that says babygirl what do you want lol

no one is infantilizing him he's literally just wearing a shirt with the word (because of the movie) and if you really wanna dissect that i am not that one to do that with. its just a nickname

[waywardstation]

Gosh your content tugs on my heartstrings, I can't recall the last time I've absorbed fanfics and incredible comics for hours! :)

Some of your incredible AUs have swept into my daydreaming, and having recently rewatched some scenes from Wolfwalkers, I couldn't stop this from strirring into the mix. So now I'm stuck with the idea of Akari becoming somewhat of a 'wolfwalker', or a zorua/zoroark-walker to be more specific!

Now I can't stop picturing Zorua-Akari causing trouble in her new form, and it's hard to conclude she's behind it all; her body is sheltered somewhere and likely sound asleep! If we opt for more angst though, maybe she would be driven from jubilife village as zoruas are (were?) shunned for manifesting illusions? Yet on a brighter side, there could be valuable lessons and exciting adventures waiting around the corner!

But what I can't really flesh out is how Akari (or Ingo if he is there to witness it) will handle this bizarre shift in her everyday experience: I like to think she'd be on edge at first, but quickly come to see the perks of being a 'wild' zorua. But if something did escalate, how much can she handle?

I apologise for this lengthy brainstorm, but I hope you don't mind! :) Thank you for so much great content and well fleshed-out AUs! Your portrayal of the characters are so good and made me see them in a new light!

HEY ANON!! Thank you so much for the kind words!! I’m so so so happy you like my works!! ;w; it means a lot to hear that!! Thank you!!

Now for your idea; I LOVE WOLFWALKERS. It’s a great movie and cartoon saloon’s strong shapes in their visuals is always so well done!! Wonderful movie, and I think your concept is such a fun one to work with!!

Akari getting to be a zorua while she sleeps is such a fun idea, just like the movie I could see it really being about her getting used to being one with the other wild zorua and zoroark. And then as it goes on, I really like the idea that this extends into the exile part of PLA’s narrative, and gets more serious.

It would be interesting to see how these media’s narratives mesh. Would the red sky be blamed on zorua and zoroark walkers in this narrative? I think for Akari, how I see it is she would find being a zorua exciting and fun. She’d keep it a secret for a while but eventually she couldn’t help but start showing it to close people — there’s nothing wrong with it, people are wrong for thinking it’s dangerous. But maybe the wrong person sees, or she shows someone she thought she could trust. Then uh oh, she gets exiled and a hunt is initiated.

And as for Ingo (if you are considering the dynamics I write them in), I feel like he would handle things much the way Robyn’s dad Bill did, it’s a struggle at first and he doesn’t understand. But at some point he must make a choice and embraces it — either like Bill does, actually becoming a wolfwalker (zoroarkwalker?) himself, or just more accepting Akari is now one herself and he can’t separate her from that.

Not sure how it could go, but ultimately it’s your AU idea!! Such a fun concept anon, there’s a lot you could do with it and I would love to hear more if you ever want to share! For now I just had to try and put these guys into the wolfwalkers artstyle. Thanks for sharing this with me!!!

[hipsternumbertwo]

Smosh Takes A Lie Detector Test • Trolley Problems

[enden-k]

[houseofpsychoticwomxn]

I MUST KNOW.. what are your thoughts on Simon with a s/o who’s a crybaby …..

YAY thank u for asking i love a crybaby thats #mefr ପ(๑•ᴗ•๑)ଓ

ʚɞ ⁺˖ simon isn’t exactly a crier, so the first time you get upset over something small he gets a little uneasy — looking over at you all confused while he drives and you try to explain through sniffles that nothings really wrong before he pulls over.

“what is that, what’re you- crying? something happened in the two seconds I wasn’t looking at you?” his eyes are darting back and forth between the road and your face, moving one of his hands to the back of your head in an attempt to soothe you the best he could.

“no—nothings wrong it’s just- i had a lot of fun today. with you, and i don’t want it to end.” that seemed to ease his nerves, sighing and loosening his grip on the wheel.

“shit, it that all? i’m not goin’ anywhere.”

after that he’s more understanding, he can usually tell when something will make you cry and he does his best to keep you in mind — even if it’s ultimately unavoidable ♡

ʚɞ ⁺˖ he’s not the best at words of comfort but he’s always up to holding you curled up in his lap, letting you cry into his shirt while he rubs your back and offers up whatever he’s smoking

ʚɞ ⁺˖ if you start crying somewhere public he’ll bring your head to his shoulder, asking if you want to step out for a second and glaring at anyone that looks at you any way he deems unkind, quick to tell them to fuck off before you even notice