#i forgot i’m supposed to post my art on here too

[birbykirb]

The girls, my wives

I’ve been reading too many fics about these two, atp Ik more about them from ao3 than the damn comics. I rlly like the dynamics ppl give the two esp when prowls made out to be more cold/calculated, and Jazz super competent despite acting aloof sometimes

That being said if anyone has any rlly good recs totally give me a linkkk 😋

I have some messier doodles of the two, like notes on how I hc doorwings to work with his tac net shit and my hcs of their full designs, but I’ll probably refine those before I post them lol

[lxzyecho]

And I emerge once again—Forgot about tumblr’s existence but here I am, posting art I drew today :)

DDVAU Cuteguy

With no background~! Only gradient ‘cause I had no other idea for it~~!!

Started drawing Cuteguy yesterday at night, I was testing out my anatomy skills to progress, I wasn’t paying attention to the time and forgot to check it. And it was 3 AM… I immediately stopped drawing and went to bed. I redrew it when I woke up in morning since it was looking kinda weird.

Got carried away with shading and details as I was suppose to post it without. Hopefully my eyes aren’t deceiving me with the colour pallet and its vividly colourful 🙏

Too scared to @. Well. I’m always scared to do that

But this AU is from Kitsuneisi!

[safination]

Partners in Death... and Life

Part 3: Not Everything You Hear From the Radio Should be Trusted

| Part 2: Radio Will be Dead if He Doesn't Explain Himself| Part 4: The Radio Star’s Co-host Just Wants To Do The Dishes||Masterlist| ao3| Tag-list| Parings: Alastor x wife!reader Tags: fem!reader, established relationship, hopefully not but just in case ooc!alastor (I'm still trying my best to keep him as canon as possible) Reader is in hell for a reason. Please take note of the following warnings: Body horror. Graphic descriptions of injuries, glass piercing skin, cutting of skin, cutting of chest. Dissection of Human muscles. Misogyny Just…be careful out there

Series Summary: After a seven-year absence, you find the man you were married to in life, not only back in town, but also helping... *checks notes*... the Princess of Hell run a hotel aimed at rehabilitating sinners who were sent to the bad place for a reason.

Hello. I usually aim to post on Wednesdays, and I knoooow it's not a Wednesday. But, in my defense, this chapter is longer than chapters 1 and 2 combined. Also, I tried to keep the body horror to a medium level. I tried to find a perfect balance of horrifying but also still readable. Would you guys want more body horror, or less, or is this a good amount? Updated: 5/01/2024 *just realized that I forgot to add the part I was supposed to add*

The heart monitor beeps with a steady rhythm. The model’s ECG reading dip, but that’s normal for her species. You study the model asleep on your table, and take your place.

Turning to your interns, you adjust the fit of your gloves as say, “Are you ready?

From the other side of the table, Lys nods her head with such vigor that you’re afraid it would fall off. “I’m as ready as I’ll ever be!”

Heme takes their place next to you, wheeling the cart within your reach. “Aren’t there supposed to be more people here?” they ask, adjusting the fit of their mask with their shoulder. “We don’t even have an anesthesiologist present, and the technician dumped the tools and left without a word!”

Sighing, you take another look at the screen, and monitor the patient’s ECG readings. Just a couple of decades ago, you wouldn’t even be allowed to take five steps into a surgical suite, but in your death, you stare at the state-of-the-art Vox technology heart monitor.

“This was dumped at the last minute. And the Vees paid a hefty amount for the best,” you say, smiling to yourself. “I guess it doesn’t help that most of the staff have clocked-off for the night already.”

“It really doesn’t,” Heme says. You think they frown, you’re not actually sure. It’s hard to tell with masks on, but Heme sounds like they’re frowning.

“On the bright side, this is a special case, and special cases require special means,” you say. “Stick around, and I’ll make sure to show you something amazing.”

Lys squeals, jumping a bit, “I can’t wait to see your work.”

You turn to Heme. “Tell how you were guided into stopping the bleeding by Doctor Neisseria.”

Heme straightens, round their shoulders. “Hemostatic dressing for the capillaries,” they recite. “Then Lys clipped the bigger vessels, and Doctor Neisseria used an electrocautery for any that we missed.”

“Good,” you say. “Lys, is this your first time using a clip?”

“…Yes,” Lys tells you. Even with a mask on, you could tell she was sulking.

You eye the cart between you and Heme, double checking that the technician brought everything you requested for. “It shows,” you say. “Practice every chance you get. Make a deal with some poor and down on their luck Sinner who wouldn’t mind making a deal for permission to poke around whenever you want. They’ll heal on their own if it’s not too severe…or don’t—I mean, that’s how I did mine.”

Lys blinks at you. “I’ll…keep that in mind.”

Your shoulder slumps. “…Shall we just begin?”

Heme hands you a needle driver, the needle already clipped to it. A bunch of suture forms around your palm. It’s study, and made of pure Sinner Magical Energy, or just magic or whatever. It comes out of your and you have full control, that’s all you need to know.

Heme and Lys lean closer to observe the threads you make.

I don’t get to do this often.” You turn your head, motioning to the detached arm placed on the side. The skin has been stretched and the jagged and stringy muscle fibers sticking out tell you it’s been ripped off rather than slice. The radius protrudes out into the air, jagged and sharp. It would have hurt this model quite a lot. “Steady her arm please.”

Lys snatches the arm, holding it with confidence as she steadies it. “This is so cool.”

Heme hums. “Cool in a gross way.”

“Whether your patient is awake or not, a steady hand is key,” you say. “When you pierce your needle, be sure to do it right at the epidermis when dealing with the skin. Too deep and you’ll puncture the arteries or nerves.”

Lys brings the arm closer, and you do the first suture that will connect the limb of Velvette’s model. Valen-something apparently tore her up, but it wasn’t enough to kill her. So, they rushed her into the Emergency Room three days before this poor girl’s debut, and dropped her into your care with her arm and leg in an ice box.

You sew the model’s arm. The threads around your fingers are light, but sturdy. You entwine some around your fingers like some puppet master for better grip. Blood vessels, bones, nerves, and muscles. Not a single cell escapes your control.  

You quiz your interns from time to time or tell them to take a closer look at where the vessels stick out the muscles, making sure they’re able to observe how a proper reattachment is conducted.

You study the threads connecting the arm to its body There are thousands of loose sutures. One single pull, and it will be completely reattached.

You shift your shoulders and crack your neck, giving it a slight stretch. “How long has it been?”

Lys glances at the clock behind you. “Five hours. I think it’s almost sunrise.”

“Be ready to be here for a while,” you say, rolling your shoulders. “The leg will be more complicated.”

Heme groans and their shoulder slump. “I guess I should just be thankful the model is mostly humanistic.”

You pull on the singular thread, and the stitches shorten until the arm is fully connected to its base. A thing line is the only indication that any limbs have been detached.

The door swings open and you snap your head at the sound.

“Hey doc!” The little Egg Boi saunters into the room, an envelope in his tiny hands. “I got something for you.”

Your feathers crack and sharpen. “If you wish to keep your shell,” you hiss at him, “you will leave this room before you contaminate it further.”

Egg Boi #04 wobbles a bit. “I was told to give you a message.”

A headache forms on your temples. You want to massage it, but that would contaminate your gloves. “Lys, show the egg to the observation room. Show him the microphone.”

Lys pouts a bit but exits the surgical suite.

Heme grabs the leg, and you begin again. You pause to take a deep breath. The threads don’t just appear out of thin air—they’re created because you will them to take shape. It gives as much as it needs to take from you.

Egg Boi# 04’s voice echoes on the speaker. “I have a note for you.”

“Read it then leave.” You pierce the tibia bone with your needle (special hell needle, you guess. Normal needles definitely cannot pierce bones) and connect it to the model’s leg.

Your concentration does not waver, even as Lys enters back into the room.

“My dearest good doctor,” Egg Boi #04 reads. “What a helltastic day for –"

“Stop!” you exclaim, and the threads you’re producing fizzle a bit, “Is that from Alastor?”

“Uhhh…yes?”

“Give me 10 minutes.” You sew the model’s leg just like before, starting from bones, then vessels, the muscles, and finally skin, but this time at a much faster pace.  

Thousands of strings connect the detached leg to its place.

Heme gawks at you. “I thought the leg was more complicated?”

“It is.”

“It took you five minutes to sew everything,” they say. “Why did it take the arm until sunrise?”

“You wouldn’t have been able to learn anything if I went too fast.” You hand the needle driver to Heme, who takes it with eager hands “I trust you will be able to close for me?”

“Yes!”

“Go around the skin—remember not too deep,” you say. “Once it’s all connected, just one strong pull and the threads should work their magic. Lys, once she closes, you can practice your knots.”

The door closes with a swing. You discard your gloves then peel off your protective layers, but you keep the scrub cap on your head.

The Egg Boi waddles into the room, threatening to tip any moment. He holds up Alastor’s note and you’re forced to bend when you reach for it.

You open the envelope and sigh. “This is a letter, and definitely not a note,” you say counting all the pages jammed into the envelope. “Notes are small pieces of paper, and not fifteen pages of paper scribbled back-to-back.”

You take one deep breath, flaring your nostrils as you contemplate your marriage choices, and begin reading.

Heme enters the holding room as you’re reading through the last page.

They take a look at the pages you’ve read. “Ohhhhh a letter?” they say, discarding their mask into the trash. Their gloves are next. “Who is it from?”

“My husband.”

“Why a letter?” Heme asks you “Why not just shoot you a text or a phone call?”

“He mumbles to himself when he writes, and he just loves hearing his own voice.” You turn to the Egg Boi once you’ve read the last word. “Tell Alastor I’m busy—I can’t leave work to go to the hotel on such short notice!”

“Right….” Heme leans against the sink. “Management will be dropping by this afternoon.”

Your eyes squint. “This afternoon? I was told there'd be visiting tomorrow!”

“Yes, they informed you last night,” Heme says. “It’s tomorrow now—morning, actually.”

Your eyes twitch as your turn to Egg Boi #4. “Tell him I will be early. Now go, run along now, least you get scrambled.”

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

Bustling sounds from the other side of the circus themed doors. You knock then take a step backwards, least Vaggie greets you with a fist to the face.

A crash sounds from the inside. The door slams open, and Charlie pops out, hair disheveled and sticking out in odd places. You see the relief oozing into her. Charlie’s smile relaxes and her eyes stop bulging at the sight of you.

She says your name with enthusiasm. “It’s just you! I am so glad to see you.”

You wave at her. “Hello, Charlie. It’s good to see you as well.”

“Would you like to come inside?” she says at the same time another crash sounds. Charlie’s smile turns sheepish. “I hope you don’t mind the mess.”

“It’s quite alright,” you say with a polite smile. “Who am I to judge another person’s mess? It can be quite entertaining sometimes.”

 Charlies smoothens the stray hairs sticking out. It does little to actually fix it. “Sooooo what brings you by? Not that you’re not welcome here! Everyone is welcome here! We don’t discriminate at –”

The door swings wider and Alastor pops out with that permanent smile of his. “I called her here.”

Alastor helps you out of your coat as you enter through the doors, and drapes it over his arm. “I came early. I hope you don’t mind,” you say, glancing at the crudely attached banners. Strobe lights are being taped to the railings. Its brightness makes you blink. “Are you throwing a party? Is that why you called me here?”

Alastor hangs your coat on the rack. “We’re preparing for a sudden guest,” he says. “It seems we’ll have to delay our plans, only if you’re happy with waiting for me.”

Charlie shrinks and her eyes water a bit. “Alastor…,” she says with a frown. “If you have plans, that’s alright—go. We can manage without you here!”

“Not at all, this is where he needs to be right now,” you tell Charlie, placing a hand on her shoulder. Her smile brightens immediately. “Who will be the special guest today?”

Charlie fiddles with her fingers. “We…invite my…dad.”

Alastor twirls his microphone. “The King of Hell himself.”

“Oh,” you start, “the demon is coming here?”

“That’s actually Satan,” Charlie says with a smile. “Dad often gents confused with Satan but they’re not the same

“Oh…So, Lucifer is coming here.”

“Pretty much.”

You laugh a bit—you’re not even sure why. Maybe you shouldn’t have laughed. It sounded so awkward, even to you. “Well, how can I help? If it’s alright with you, of course.”

Charlie’s eyes brighten, and she shakes your shoulders. “Are you sure?”

Alastor grabs Charlie’s fingers with the tip of his own and pry them off you. “I’ve already come all this way,” you say, and turn to your husband. “I’m sure we can make the most out of this situation.”

Charlie leaves to change her clothes, and hopefully brush her hair while she’s at it.

Alastor offers his arm, and you loop your own around his, even when you know it’s unnecessary to escort you to a living area that’s five-feet away.

He leaves you, walking to the kitchen with a wave of his microphone.

The hotel looks the same, just more diverse colors hanging around. Niffty stalks past you without a word, engrossed in her task of sweeping the floor. Angel Dust or Vaggie don’t seem to be around, nor is Husk at his usual post. Only a one-eyed cat keeps you company.

On the table,  deflated balloons are left forgotten with two pumps resting next to it. You take your seat, and complete the unfinished task.

You’re on the third balloon when Alastor presents a mug to you.

He leans over the chair, reaching his arms to place that ‘Oh Deer’ mug on the table. It’s difficult to meet his eyes when he leans so far in front that his whole face is upside down.

His hair hangs in the air, and your husband looks goofy in such an awkward position that you can’t help but laugh. “You look awful this hellish morning!” he says, and his grin widens until his teeth show. “I thought you could use a bit of brightening up. You’re practically dozing off in the chair.”

 “Thank you,” you say, a small smile on your face. “The coffee smells good.”

Alastor swings back, and lands next to you. “I know we agreed to leave such tasks to you,” he says and he waves his arms as he talks. “But you look ready to drop dead any second. Poor Niffty had swept about a hundred feathers on your short walk from the door to this chair—Long day?”

“Longer day, actually. Yesterday’s long day turned into a late night that bleeds into today’s early morning.” You take a sip, and revel in its taste. Even after all these years…his coffee still tastes like acidic bean water. (If you smile, then that’s your business.) “The coffee tastes good.”

Alastor crosses his leg, cracking a laugh hard enough for his eyes to bulge. “You didn’t even try to check if it’s been tampered,” he says with that same wild smile. “Are you that tired, my love?”

You smile at him, lips curving bright and wide. “My deerest, did you place something into my coffee?”

“Not at all.”

“That’s disappointing,” you say, taking another sip. “That suit of yours could use some brightening up! A splash of this bean water would add such an interesting texture to it.”

“We’ll it good to see you’re not tired enough to lose your way with words,” Alastor says, smiling at you. “But if you’ve had a ‘longer’ day, you could have sent the Egg Boy—"

“It’s Egg Boi, my deerest.”

Alastor squints, his brow furrowing as he does. “That’s what I said.”

“You said Egg Boy, deerest,” you tell him, taking a longer sip than usual to drown your laughter. “Those eggs are called Egg Bois. They have different numbers—except Frank.”

On the corner of his cheek—just where it’s always been—Alastor’s smile strains. “You said the same thing as I did.”

“Egg Bois.”

“Egg Boys.”

“Egg Bois.”

“Egg Boys.”

You chuckle a bit, and take another long slip. “If you say so.”

Alastor rolls his eyes and he makes it a point to show you he’s doing so. “You could have mentioned to that egg creature that you’d had a long day.”

“Management was dropping by my floor today.” You grab another balloon to pump it.

Alastor’s head tilts, and you hear the small crack of his neck. Static fills the air. “Well, I’m always glad to be used in such a way.”

You roll your eyes, making it a point to show Alastor that you’re doing so. The sharpened feathers and the glow of your eyes were just for the fun of it. “There is another reason why I dropped by the hotel.”

“Do tell!”

You knot the end of the balloon and throw it to the side. “Who am I to refuse the summon of the Radio Demon?”

“His wife.”

You snort, and toss a balloon at him. One balloon becomes two and now you’re just tossing whatever balloon you could get your hands on.

Alastor pops a balloon and static emits from his microphone.

You cross your arms, staring down at him. “I was going to use that.”

Alastor grabs the second pump. 

An hour passes too soon. They always seem to do around your husband. The balloons are stringed and weighted. Razzle and Dazzle—the two lambs Charlie made a point to introduce you too—put up a…er… interesting banner on the railings.

Sir Pentious slithers out the kitchen, a tray of cookies in his hold. The Hazbin Hotel looks lively. The space looks decent—live in — as if Sinners actually gathered and used the space. (Those are your favorite kind.)

Sir Pentious offers a cookie to you, and you munch on it. You give him a compliment for its taste.

By the entrance, with Vaggie to her side and Alastor at the other, Charlie takes a deep breath, her nostrils flaring as she does.

Vaggie gives her a smile, and Charlie opens the door.

The bringer of sin rushes to his daughter, drowning her in a hug.“Chaaaaarlie!”

Charlie squirms in his hold. “Heeeyy, Dad!”

Egg Boi #13 and Egg Boi #08 twist their poppers and confetti pops into the air. Niffty grabs her broom, sweeping the floor.

You watch Lucifer, and try to hide your smile. The King of Hell looks different from any paintings or drawings humans make. They can’t seem to capture how shy he looks. How awkward. No painting has been able to capture his search for a place to belong.

This Fallen Angel has blond hair. He’s not the brunette you thought he’d be, which was a shame for you rather liked brunets. It makes sense he’d be blond. Afterall, Charlie has blonde hair as well, and she is the spitting image of her father.

If someone told you it was Lucifer who birthed her, you wouldn’t be able to deny it.

“It’s finally nice to put a name to the face.” Alastor shakes Lucifer’s hand with his microphone, wiping his own right after. “You are much shorter in real life.”

You turn aways, coughing to hide your laughter as Alastor banters with Lucifer.

Husk rolls his eyes at you and grumbles. “Of course, you’d find that hilarious,” he says. “Everyone knows it's smart to insult Lucifer.”

You place a hand on your cheek. “Guilty as charged.”

Charlie brings Lucifer to meet your group. He calls Vaggie, Maggie. Smiles awkwardly when Angel Dust calls him a ‘short king’. Lucifer waves back when Husk waves at him, and shrinks when Niffty jumps and pulls him by the collar. One by one, you’re introduced.

You extend your arm for a handshake.

Lucifer smiles awkwardly, shrinking a bit, but reaches out to shake your ha—

The chandelier crashes to the floor.

And oh God…

Lucifer begins to sing.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

Your hair sticks to your face.

Water droplets splash on your clothes. You accept your fate, and trudge through the rain, even as your fingers freeze. The breeze blows your hair, making you nuzzle into your damp coat. You should have brought an umbrella, or taken a cab. Just your luck, a sunny day turns into a drizzle that turns your shoes into a lake. You hate damp socks.

An umbrella blocks the rain from your soaked clothes.

You spring out of its coverage, spinning to look behind. Your arms jerk out, causing you to wobble because of the wet pavement. (That’s totally not embarrassing.)

 “The point of an umbrella is to stay underneath it when it’s raining.” Alastor smiles, giving you a small wave.

You wave back.

“Oh…hello,” you say, adjusting the straps of your bag. Alastor takes a step forward, and you jump backwards. “I’m alright—I can manage by myself.”

“Why don’t you tell me all about your very capable self from underneath the umbrella,” he says, twirling the umbrella. “Come on, now.”

You dip your head inside. Alastor inches closer, but there’s still a respectable gap between your shoulders. “I’m really alright,” you say. “I quite love the rain.”

“Yes, the rain is a beautiful thing to frolic underneath when you’re in a meadow,” Alastor says. You can’t help but feel that Alastor is scolding you, “not when it splashes off buildings and drips off power lines and other items that have not been cleaned. We are in the city, my dear.”

“You really don’t have to.”

“My mother would roll in her grave and haunt me when she finds out I left a lady in the rain.”

“But—”

“Constant refusal is quite rude, you know,” he tells you. “And I still owe you one favor.”

“You really wouldn’t mind?”

“Not at all,” Alastor says with a smile that makes you smile back. “If it makes you feel more comfortable, I’m happy to leave my umbrella in your umbrella-less but capable hands, and be on my way.”

You shake your head, inching closer. “We can share if you don’t mind walking.”

“I love walks. It keeps me stimulated.”

Alastor follows your every step, covering you with an umbrella that was meant for one. You glance at his shoulder, and turn away to hide your frown. Half of his shoulder sticks out into the rain, gathering droplets, while not a single speck of water slides on you.

Alastor is giving you the bigger half of the umbrella.

“Would you mind holding this?” he asks.

“Not at all,” you say, and take a hold of his umbrella. Alastor is taller, and you have to quirk your arms higher to avoid hitting his head.

Alastor slips out of his coat. You watch him slide it off his shoulders and pull his arm out the slits. He’s wearing a vest—a fine vest as well. Alastor flicks out stray waterdrops. He leans close enough for you to smell his cologne. He drapes his coat over your shoulders, grabbing the lapels to adjust its fit. His body heat lingers. It’s warm…he’s warm.

Alastor pries the umbrella from your grip with a wide smile. “Before you say anything, the only response that I will be accepting is, ‘thank you’.”

“Thank you, Alastor.”

“You’re welcome.” He adjusts the angle of the umbrella, careful to keep every drop of rain from touching you, even at the cost of his own clothes. “Whatever made you decide to walk?  There are cabs and busses for a reason.”

“It wasn’t that bad when I started,” you say. “Plus, I was eager to get home.”

He keeps his eyes ahead. “It’s still quite dangerous.”

You step over a puddle, narrowly missing it. “Dangerous?”

“Yes!”

“The sun is—well, was still up when I began walking.”

Alastor hums, shaking his head. “Murders and thieves do not magically dissolve in the sun.”

You smile to yourself. “I’m sure you’re quite knowledgeable on that subject.”

Alastor turns to you, and his hair shifts as he tilts his head. “Pardon?”

“I heard your voice on the radio this morning,” you tell him, adjusting his coat around your shoulders. “I caught the news segment.”

“Well,” he starts, his smile widening. He pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose, “you must have been busy when I mentioned the forecast then.”

You inch closer as much as he’ll allow you, trying to keep a respectable distance, but still close enough that Alastor doesn’t need to sacrifice his clothes to keep yours dry. “Speaking of radio, what brings you to this area?” you say. “Isn’t the radio station all the way across town?”

Alastor laughs in a way that makes you wish you’ve kept your mouth shut. “Have you been tracking my movements?”

“Not at all,” you say and try to mimic his laugh. It comes out strained instead. “I just know how to read a map.”

Alastor steps over a puddle. He places a hand on your back, guiding you away from it. “I just had some business in the area,” he says and drops his hand. “I turned the corner and I found you walking all alone in the rain!”

You smile, careful to keep your eyes forward. “I’m thankful to whatever beings that fated our paths to cross.”

Alastor leans closer, eyeing your hands. “Been gardening recently?”

You glance at your nails, at where stubborn soil sticks underneath the cuticle. “No…not at all,” you say slowly. “I guess you could say…light treasure hunting…?”

“The more I get to know you, the more I find myself dumbfounded at your wide range of hobbies.”

“I hate seeing things go to waste.” You try to ignore the squish of your socks. You are definitely never forgetting your umbrella again. “For example, your garbage is my treasure.”

“What a wonderful philosophy to live by.” Alastor meets your eyes and smiles.

You smile back. “Indeed, isn’t it?”

Alastor’s hold on the umbrella stays firm, even as he follows you around the corner and across the street. Not a single drop of water lands on you. “What treasure were you able to find?”

“You have a lot of questions for me today,” you say and ignore the thumping of your heart. “I feel as if you know me more than I know you—I think that’s rather unfair.”

“Well, what would you like to know?”

You move your foot to avoid puddles of trash. The city could really use a good cleaning. “You know so much about my hobbies. So, I’d like to know some of yours.”

“There isn’t really much to tell,” he says. “The radio is my life.”

A strong breeze has you sinking deeper into Alastor’s coat. “You have your hunts.”

You glance at Alastor, and oh…his hair is as brown as his eyes. Wisps of hair stick to his face because of the rain.

Alastor’s brows furrow a bit, but you swear his smile turns sweet. “Those are more of… a necessity than a hobby.”

“In what way?”

“The woods around my area have a lot of… let’s say… mammals that don’t necessarily belong there, it is as if someone just leaves them from time to time. I hunt a few here and there to thin the population a bit.”

You smile to yourself. “Well, tell me about the radio—What is that like?”

He places his free hand on his chest. “Why, it is the proper medium of expressing oneself, of course.”

“It must be nice having such a creative outlet,” you say. “Sometimes, I wonder how you’re able to come up with the most exciting segments.”

“Sadly, you would think after all these years of bringing success and money into the company, I would be allowed to have more control over my content.”

You step over another puddle. A small tug on Alastor’s arm, and he steps over it as well. “That is quite sad to hear.”

“For example,” he starts, adjusting his hold on the umbrella. “I wanted to have this whole portion just on crimes that have been committed.”

“Like… the news?”

“No, not at all,” he says. “I was thinking more on the lines of old cases like robberies and murders—some solved, some not. Unfortunately, the director said it would be too gruesome.”

“It really depends on how you choose to present it,” you say. “I think audiences would love a good mystery with a satisfying conclusion.”

“That is exactly what I thought so as well!” Alastor’s smile widens. “I came across this story…Oh, well I wouldn’t want to bother you with the details.”

“I’d love to hear this,” you say, chuckling. “Show me how you would present it.”

“One winter night,” he starts off with that never ending smile on his lips, “a child—no ordinary child—disappears in the middle of the night. There were no signs of a break in and nothing other than the child was taken from the home. Not a single dust was out of place.”

“Wait, what was so special about the child?”

“I will tell you,” he says. “That child was the two-year old son of aviator Charles Lindenberg! Some newspapers called the child the ‘Eaglet’ because his father had become the first man to fly across the Atlantic Oce—Oh, why are we stopping?”

He angles the umbrella, careful to keep you dry. You smile at him and point at the small apartment complex behind you. “This is where I live.”

Alastor doesn’t frown, but his smile droops a bit. “Oh…” he says. “I was getting to the most interesting portion of the story—what a shame.”

“A shame, indeed,” you echo. “You have such a captivating way of conveying your words.”

“Thank you.”

The rain splatters on the umbrella. It’s not going to stop anytime soon. Your socks are damp and it’s starting to get colder. “Would you like to finish what you were saying?”

Alastor’s smile widens, just a bit, but it was enough for you to notice. “On the month of May, after continuous searching, a tiny little corpse was found abandoned on the side of the road. Forensics determined that the baby was bludgeoned to death.”

“It’s quite funny,” you tell him. “You talk of such gruesome murders but I find myself captivated.”

“Indeed.”

“Thank you for going out of your way for me, Alastor.” You slip out of his coat, returning it to him. It’s cold—has it always been this cold. “Will I see you around?”

“Of course,” he says. “We always meet in such unconventional places.”

You duck out of the umbrella, giving him one last smile and head up the steps.  A twist of a doorknob, a few flights of stairs, and you would be home. You were tired, your socks are soaking, and the back of your clothes stick to your skin. So, why…why do you find yourself running back into the rain?

“Wait!” you find yourself exclaiming.

Alastor covers you with his umbrella. “What’s wrong?”

‘I… I may have a problem.” The words are slipping out of your lips. “Are you busy by any chance?”

“Not at all.”

“What about your business in the area?”

Alastor raises his eyebrows. “I can always come back.”

 “Would you help me?” You bite the inside of your cheek.

“Of course.” Alastor brings the umbrella closer to you. “What can I do for you?”

“I think…” you begin to say. Stop. Stop! You should turn back; head inside where warm clothes and a bath awaits you. “I think I’m in the wrong area.”

Alastor laughs, and it’s that same breathy and light laugh as before. He drapes his coat over your shoulder once more, and adjusts its fit to secure it around you. It’s the warmest thing you’ve ever experienced in your life. “I wouldn’t be much of a gentleman if I left a lady stranded in the rain.”

“Not at all,” you say with a smile that you do not remember smiling. “Lots of scary thieves and murders out there—apparently they don’t disappear during the day.”

Alastor nudges you along, down the path, to a destination either of you have the faintest idea where it will end.

Your feet stay locked in its place, and you hold Alastor in your gaze. (His bowtie is crooked, and even with his coat around you, he looks presentable. His vest matches his shoes. You note how his smile is asymmetrical, and how his eyes are still as brown as his hair. Alastor’s glasses are frosted, but he doesn’t seem to mind.)

“Are you alright?” Alastor asks you.

“I’m fine. It’s just….” You shake your head and smile. “It would be a waste to forget this.”

“Come on,” Alastor says in a voice that is oh so soft. He offers his arm, and you hook your own around his.

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“Motherfucker!” Husk curses into the air, his ears quirking as he does. “Would it fucking kill you to be gentle with that shit?”

“I am being gentle.” You stare him down, keeping the towel pressed firm against his foot. “Would you want to know what it’s like when I’m not? I’d be very happy to comply.”

“………No.”

“Then settle down, Husker,” you say and use your free hand to grab the forceps from the hotel’s medical kit. “This will be much easier if you stay still…or don’t and give yourself a harder time. I’m not the one with glass sticking out of my foot.”

Husk sinks into the clinic bed, sulking as he crosses his arms. He picks on the pillow, fidgeting with its seams. “Bitch.”

You raise your eyebrows and huff. “Virgin.”

Husk’s fangs show when he growls. “I am not…grandma.”

Your feathers bristle. It’s smart to keep Husk talking, even if hurling insults is the way to do so. If it keeps him distracted, you won’t complain. “I died in my late twenties…or was it my early thirties — I honestly forget.”

The blood on his foot begins to clot, and you toss the towel to the waste basket. You walk to the sink, rinsing stray droplets of Husk’s blood with soap.

“Settle down then, grandma,” he says with a triumphant smile, and you roll your eyes. “Today, it’s your memories. Tomorrow, it could be anything.”

You plop on the clinic chair, waiting for your hands to dry. “Yes, it would make sense you’re familiar with the signs,” you shoot back, “considering you lived long enough to be called Pawpaw — Is that why you’re a cat?”

Husk barks a laugh, his wings flaring. He grabs the pillow and tosses it to you. It hits the side of the chair and langs on your lap. You pick it up and toss it back at him. “At least my husband didn’t walk out on me for several years without so much as a word.”

You chuckle, and settle his foot on your leg for better access. Taking your forceps, you brush away slivers of glass from Husk’s foot …or would this be his paw?

You clip a shard of glass, and glance at him. When Husk doesn’t whine like a little bitch, you pull a shard and drop it to the metal pan across you. “At least my marriage lasted even through death, Arachnid Simp.”

Husk rolls his eyes. You smile when his whiskers twitch. “Where did you even learn that word?”

“I see you’re not going to deny it.”

Husk sinks deeper into the bed.

“This wouldn’t be happening if you—I don’t know—wore these things called shoes?” You pluck another shard of glass. Husk tries to jerk his foot away, but your hold stays firm. “They were invented a long, long, time ago, and were created to keep your feet protected.”

“Stop talking as if I’m a child.” Husk frowns and his teeth stick out. “Wearing them feels weird.”

“I guess they kind of are weird.” You grab a fresh towel when blood squirts out of Husk’s foot. “You die and then suddenly waking up to see you don’t have toes

A beat passes between you. “Do you…do you not have toes?”

You toss the towel, and pick out the last shard. “Wouldn’t you like to know, weather boy.”

“What does that even mean?” Husk growls, running his palms over his face.

“I…have absolutely no idea.”

You reach into the medical kit, grabbing some dressing. You peel the plastic and toss it to the trash, and press it against his foot.

Egg Boi #03 waddles up to you, a gauze roll in his tiny hands — you weren’t aware the little egg creature was in the room. You thank him with a smile, and wrap the gauze roll around Husk’s paw then his ankle. Satisfied, you clip it in its place.

“You’re all done,” you say. “It might be weird to step on it for a few hours, but it’s not impossible. The glass didn’t puncture you too deep.”

“Good to know.”

“Oh…and just in case, the amount of blood you saw isn’t anything to be scared of. There’s just a lot of tiny vessels on the foot. That’s why it took a while for it to stop,” you say and toss him a new set of gauze rolls and pads.

Husk stares at the items. “I don’t know how to use this.”

You stare at him, leaning into the chair. “Just slap the square on the skin and roll the gauze around your foot.”

Husk hops out of the clinic, keeping pressure off his injury.

It takes a while to clean up after yourself, but Egg Boi #03 keeps you company. The little egg speaks a lot of nonsense, but it’s entertaining nonetheless. You flick the lights, and Egg Boi #03 follows behind you.

The chandeliers had been dragged away, and the glass and debris cleared off the carpet.

Mimzy’s hug makes you take a step back.

You squirm in her hold, placing a placating hand on her shoulders.

“I am sooooo glad you are here!” Mimzy exclaims, shaking your shoulders. “This is like one big reunion, ay. Just between you and me, that Lucifer is a real looker—shame on Alastor for not warning a gal. I would have dressed better, and who knows? Maybe I could be the Queen of Hell. Ha!”

Mimzy grabs your arm and drags you to the bar. Husk pours you a drink with a nod, and stalks away. Seeing him hop up the stairs makes you laugh.

You swirl your drink. “It’s always good to see you, old friend.”

“Not that old!” Mimzy swats your arm, a huge grin on her lips. “And there’s no need to lie to me, darling. I doubt you actually feel that way.”

“Well, I still have those burn marks on my wall from the time you decided to play bartender with matches.”

Mimzy barks a laugh, and her legs kick. “C’mon you can’t still be blaming  me! If I remember correctly, it was Alastor who brought out the matches.”

Angel Dust walks up to you with Sir Pentious trailing behind him. You wave.Sir Pentious waves back, his hood flapping open.

“Mind if we join ya?” Angel Dust asks.

“Not at all,” Mimzy says. “I’m always weak to such lookers.”

Angel Dust takes the seat next to you and pushes back his hair. Sir Pentious takes the one behind him. “Sooooo, you two and Alastor run in the same circles.” He takes a drink. “And you guys are friends with him?”

You take a sip of your own drink. “You could describe it that way.”

“Well, those are your words, not mind, but I think it fits.” Mimzy glances at you, a knowing smile on her lips. “But our good doctor here is more than just—Hey! Why do you look so surprised?”

“Well, I just didn't know he had any of those. He's been here a while and is still a big, creepy mystery,” Angel Dust says. Sir Pentious nods, his head squeaking as he does “What's his deal?”

Mimzy is happy to explain tall, dark, and creepy’s ‘deal’.

“But before that, he was the prime bachelor of my day,” Mimzy says. “Not a single lady wouldn’t want a taste of that twink. But eh… I wouldn’t wish marriage with Alastor on even my worst enemies. It would be a real shock when you die and find out your hubby’s got a real screw loose.”

“Well, it wasn’t a shock to me,” you say, rolling your eyes. You swirl your drink—hmmm, it’s good to know Husk still knows what you like.

“Not that there’s anything wrong with that!” Mimzy chuckles nervously. She scoots closer, elbowing you lightly.  “You happy he’s back? I still remember the few months you’d visit my place to look for your deerest, most darling Alastor, Mimzy at the bottom of a bottle.”

Your eyes twitch. “Quite pleased actually,” you say and force a smile. “It’s great to finally see my husband again.”

“Husband?” Angel Dust chokes on his drink.

Sir Pentious tilts his head and his hat slides off a bit. “Oh you’re married?”

You show them your ring, wiggling your finger. “Indeed.”

Sir Pentious puffs out his chest. “I would love to meet thisss husband of yours,” he says. “If you cannot be my rival, he can fight in your stead.”

“That wouldn’t be a smart idea

Mimzy stares at him. “He’s not the brightest is he?”

Angel Dust drops his drink with a clink. “Pause,” he splutters. “Shut u—” He coughs, still reeling from his drink going down the wrong pipe. “Shut up. Plause. Pause!”

Sir Pentious frowns, and his tongue sticks out. “No one elssseee is talking.”

“There is no way,” Angel Dust says. He turns to you, eyes bulging. “I refuse to believe that Freaky got hitched.”

Sir Pentious gapes, and his hoop opens. “Alastor is married as well?”

Mimzy slaps her forehead and points to you. “He’s married to her!”

“You are mess’in with me,” Angel Dust says. “Well, you can’t trick me. I refuse to believe it, toots.”

Mimzy takes a swig of her drink. “No one’s mes’in with ya,” she says with bright eyes. “They had a big white wedding and everything. I even got to bless them with my singing.”

“I don’t believe you.”

Mimzy glares at Angel Dust, a hand on her hips and her noise in the air. “You calling me a liar?”

You place a hand on Mimzy’s shoulder. “It was a good day, wasn’t it?” you say.

“Could’ve been better without the rain,” she says shrugging.

The lights flicker. Static fills the air, making your skin buzz. The bar glows a faint green. “The rain made it sentimental actually,” you say and glance up the stairs. “We quite like the rain.”

Angel Dust crosses both sets of arms. “I thought you said you were friends.”

“I said partners,” you tell him. “Alastor said friends.”

Angel Dust blinks at you and sighs. “So, you married him? Like you’re his wife.”

“I am, indeed!”

“Are you sure?”

“I sure hope so,” you say, crossing your legs. “It would be weird not to be sure considering I was there in a white dress, walking down the aisle.” Mimzy barks a laugh, and the feathers on her head sway. A part of you hopes she topples off the chair.

“Uh…Is this something we should know?” Angel Dust asks. “He’s not going to try to kill me because I learned about this right?”

“We’re not trying to hide it, but we don’t broadcast it either,” you say. “And well…no wife likes to be introduced as a ‘friend’.”

Sir Pentious’ tongue sticks out. “Does Alasssstor own your soul or something?”

You empty your drink and revel in the taste. “We got married back when we were alive.”

Angel Dust reaches across the bar, grabbing a whole bottle off the shelf with his long arms. He pops open the cork and takes a swig straight from the bottom. “I still have trouble belive you,” he says, squinting his eyes. “I just…I can’t!”

“Your belief, or lack of, won’t change the fact that I have a ring,” you say. “And it’s not really for you to believe, now is it?”

“Why…?” Angel Dust’s mouth quirks into the cutest frown. “Why…ya’know?”

You sigh and place a hand on your cheek with a smile. “He makes me laugh.”

Angel Dust makes a face, and coils back like he’s been shot.

“Oh he’s a total kitten,” Mimzy says with a bright smile. She inches her glass closer to Angel Dust, and he fills it up for her. “Catch him in a good mood or pour him a drink and play some jazz and he’s totally harmless.”

“You still shouldn’t toss caution into the air, Mimzy” you say. “If I were you, I’d be wary about trusting Alastor just because he likes cleaning up your mess.”

Angel Dust crosses his arm, and his eyebrows quirk. “Ain’t he your hubby?” he says. “Isn’t there this whole spiel about trust and love and faith and all that other boring vanilla shit.”

“He wouldn’t be the Radio Demon if he could be trusted by just anyone, now would he?” you say. “It still crosses me when I remember how he lied to me.”

Angel Dust’s eyes shine. “You said no wife likes being introduced as a ‘friend’.”

“Yes?”

“It must have crossed you quite a lot, huh?”

You shrug, a bit confused. “I mean… I wasn’t really a big deal at the end of the day.”

Angel Dust’s smile widens and that golden tooth of his shimmer. “I want to know everything.”

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Despite the rain, clear skies show the moon, not a cloud in sight.

The flashlight clipped on your collar shines on your path. Your boots sink deep into the mud, but that’s alright. A few inches of goo won’t stop you from your destination. You adjust your leather medical bag—double checked that there are gloves inside.

Between those two trees, your treasure lies buried.

You lay your kit on some nearby stones and reach in for your gloves. You dig until bits of the cadaver’s skin stick out. You brush the soil of his chest and peel open the flaps of his skin. The underside of his skin has blood vessels attached to it. It was worth cutting out the fat to have a glimpse.

Superficial fascia connects his muscles to his dermis. You take your probe and disconnect the thin filament. It reminds you of spider-webs.

You discard your probe and exchange it for the bottle of formaldehyde. You can’t study the whole body, not when it’s exposed to the elements. His fingers are starting to rot, but that’s alright. The chest is all you need, for now. So, the chest is all you’ll preserve.

The cheesecloth you placed on him last night is still damp. Good, that means it’s been sanitized this whole time. You take the cheesecloth and wife it against his open cavity, sanitizing every surface you can reach.

The formalin stings your nose and burns your eyes. It makes you cough, but you push through the pungent chemical.

You peel off the cheesecloth and use it to spread formalin into the deeper crevices between his skin and muscle.

Good. There are no maggots yet. It means you still have time.

You discard your gloves for a fresh pair and prepare your tools. You take your forceps and clip the scalpel blade onto the handle. You lay all your tools on a clean cloth for easy reach.

A human’s adipose tissue buildup is thicker than animals. This man’s fat is soft, easily squishable. Sadly, you’re not here to study his fat.

The scalpel blade is balanced perfectly. Throughout this Earth, no… not just Earth, but Heaven and Hell as well, nothing will ever be as perfect.

You slice through his adipose tissue, discarding it behind you, carving the cadaver until a nice rectangle opening forms. Muscles are grey, not like the red color printed on textbooks. You run your fingers along the smooth fibers of his pectorals. It’s slimy. That’s probably moisture mixing with the formaldehyde.

You quirk your shoulder to adjust the angle of your flashlight, still running your hand on his pectoral.

There, on the side of the chest where a muscle resembles a fan, do you find what you’re looking for.

Taking your probe, you define the muscle. You don’t use your scapple—never a scapple, because it could slice the fibers. You’ll scrape off the muscles later when it’s time to move on to the systems.

You take a pen and write your notes.

Muscle name: Serratus Ventralis. Description: The Serratus Ventralis appears to be a fan-shaped muscle, just like Hyman writes it to be. Although he’s not describing humans, I think it looks the same. Will double check to see if such similarities are indeed correct. Just like the book says, I can see the muscle extending anteriorly and posteriorly from the scapula and to the walls of the thorax. The Serratus Ventralis appears to be divisible into anterior and posterior portions, with the anterior originating deeper into the body. (Will cut open if there is still time.) The posterior border seems to be where it originates from, and while it is buried by other muscles, I think it originates from somewhere between the ribs. Origin, Insertion, Action: Origin: Textbook says it originates from the outer surfaces of the upper eight or nine ribs.  (Will double check once I’ve moved on.) Insertion: The muscle fibers appear to move upward to the side. Inserts along the anterior surface of the medial border of the scapula Action: If it indeed is inserted from the scapula, this could mean that it could draw the scapula, forward, backward or against the body.

You flip to the previous page, and cross out Serratus ventralis. You move on to the muscle on your list: Xiphihumeralis. Based on the name, the muscle should pass through the xiphoid process to the sternu—

“Is this what you meant about my trash being your treasure?”

You startle, jumping back until a tree hits you and there’s nowhere else to escape. Run. Run. Run! Your heart screams at you, hammering in your chest. No one is supposed to be here. You’re supposed to be alone. You were careful—not careful enough, apparently.

Alastor emerges from the trees.

He waves at you when your gazes meet, but you don’t wave back. He’s smiling. “Hello,” he greets you with a gentle voice that strikes your core. It would be foolish to mistake his gentleness for kindness. “And yet again, I’m forced to comment on how you have such interesting hobbies.”

You press deeper into the tree, even if a knot digs into your back. “This….” You pause, trying to find your voice. Do you run? “This isn’t a hobby. I’m merely studying.”

Alastor drops a bag on the ground. It looks heavy. “A man?”

“A cadaver,” you say, careful to keep your voice steady. You cannot let this man see any cracks. “They’re already dead, aren’t they? Wouldn’t it be a waste to let them rot like this? At least now, their sorry lives will be making a meaningful contribution.”

The admission of your crime was easy to say. You don’t want to know what that means about you.

Alastor laughs. It’s not that breathy and light laugh he had earlier. This one is lighter, more elated. “Please, tell me more.”

You harden your heart, searching for any speck of bravery. “Why would I?”

Alastor smiles until his teeth show. The moon makes his brown eyes glow—you did not think it would be such an attractive color. “I’m the one holding the large knife.”

You glance at his hand, and oh…that indeed is quite a large knife. It’s not even a kitchen knife, but a proper hunting blade meant to kill. “I see you’re resorting to threats,” you say and you don’t know why you do. It’s not really a smart idea. “I did not think you, a man, would feel the need to say such things to a woman.”

“That was barely a threat,” he says. “I’m just curious to know your motivation to dig up trash.”

“I’m studying—that’s my reason.”

Alastor waves the knife as he talks. “Are there no other dead bodies for you to prey on?” he says. “Don’t hospitals have an area specifically to keep the dead?”

“Only morticians or medical students are allowed access,” you say. “I am neither.”

“Why not become one then?”

“Women as doctors are still a relatively new phenomena,” you say. “There is not a single medical school in this area that will allow me to study, nor are there any that won’t bring me into debt.” Your blood boils and it replaces your thumping heart. It still beats in your chest, but it’s not because of fear. “I needed to find a way to learn, to study, and textbooks could only describe it in words. I want to see for myself.”

Alastor plays with the tip of the knife. “Sounds like a classic case of lusting for knowledge.”

“If lust is to be my sin,” you start and a wonky smile appears on your face, “pride would be yours. A classic case of judge, jury and executioner.”

“I do not need to explain myself to you.”

“Well, you are holding the larger knife,” you tell him, rolling your eyes. “Anything more you’d like to know?”

Alastor hums at you. “How did you figure it out?”

“A little bit of a suggestion?” you say, and you can’t help but smile to yourself. “You should buy suspicious items at different times and places. Your turn—How did you know I was here?”

“A little bit of a suggestion?” he echoes laughing like he’s told the funniest joke. “You shouldn’t have told me where you lived so easily. I thought I would have to hang around your clinic for a few days before I got your address.”

“I made sure to be careful.”

“You weren’t in the slightest,” he tells you. “Even an animal is harder to track. It was quite a surprise to see you heading in this direction.”

“Wait…,” you say slowly. “Hang around the clinic? You…you were stalking me?”

“I wouldn’t say stalking,” he says, putting his arms up. “And if we’re pointing fingers, you would have had to follow me around for a few days to learn where I buried my trash.”

Your eyes drift to his bag, and then to his knife. Realization hits you like a cruel bus. You face heat. “You!”

“Me?”

“You lied to me!” you say, venom lacing your words as you puff. “You had no business in the area, nor did you randomly spot me! You followed to kill me, didn't you?”

Alastor smiles at you.

“Oh my God!” you scream at him, throwing your arms into the air. You point at him, glaring “You’re still going to kill me?”

“I can’t exactly let you leave, my dear,” he says, rolling his eyes. “What did you think?”

You stare down at him from your nose. “Don’t be so brainless,” you spit, crossing your arms. “If you would use this thing on your head called a, ‘brain’, and use it to think, you would be able to deduce that you’re currently not in cuffs.”

Alastor glares back at you, tightening his grip on the knife. You don’t give a single flying fuck.

“Since you are adamant on not using your brain, I shall do so for you,” you say, voice dripping with sarcasm. “If I wanted to rat you out to the coppers, wouldn’t I have done so already? Hmmmm?”

“Don’t speak to me as if I am a child.”

“I wouldn’t have to, if you aren’t thinking like one,” you say. “Why would I tattle on someone for giving me what I want.”

 Alastor gives you a dry smile. “So much sarcasm to the person who does so.”

You cross your arms and lean against the tree. “I suppose I should be thanking you.”

“Will you?”

“No,” you say. “I don’t thank liars.”

You smile to yourself when Alastor rolls his eyes and furrows his brow. That strained smile of his is an extra bonus.

“If you’re going to kill me, be quick with it,” you say. “I’d like to die with my dignity as a lady.”

“How curious,” he says. “You’re not going to try and run? Fight me off in some clever way? Those are always the best kinds of hunts.”

You roll your eyes, making a point to show him that you are doing so. “That would be a waste of our time, wouldn’t it? And I think you’ll forgive me if I am not exactly keen on giving my murderer the satisfaction of experiencing ‘the best kinds of hunt’.”

Alastor laughs, breathy and light this time. He tosses the knife into the trees and puts his arms up as if surrendering. “It seems you have made me change my mind,” he says. “Not many are able to do so—especially not when I’ve settled on a hunt.”

“What an honor then,” you say, smiling dryly.

“Indeed, it is.” He takes a step forward, and when you don’t run, he walks to you and brushes stray dirt off your shoulders.

“Why change your mind?”

He smiles, inching closer to you.  That is for me to know,” he says. “But, what I will say is I know potential when I see it.”

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“Someone, please, kill me again!” Angel Dust massages his forehead with one arm, using the other to empty the bottle. His third arm reaches into the bar shelves for a new one. You stare at his arms and wonder just how it got to be so long. “You’ve got to be shiting me right now. That’s your example? That’s your final answer?”

You pick at the wooden table, suddenly finding it hard to meet his eyes “Yes…?”

Angel Dust chugs his bottle at your answer. Mimzy avoids direct eye contact, choosing to study her empty glass. Even Sir Pentious keeps his gaze locked to the floor.. You bite on your cheek, letting out a soft huff.

If they didn’t want to know, they should not have asked.

“Out of all the misery he’s caused and will be causing,” Angel Dust says, “you think that Freaky ly’in to you about his reason for walking you home was the best possible example.”

“Yes?”

Angel Dust takes a deep breath. “Let’s be clear, okay? I’ll rephrase what I said, so listen closely,” he says. “Alastor lied about – and let me get this right—he lied to you about why he was in the area, and that’s why – hold on, bear with me – and that is why you were angry.”

You cross your arms, huffing a bit. “You make it sound stupid.”

Mimzy sighs, shaking her head with amusement. “That’s because it is, darling.”

“It is not!” you say, pouting. “It’s a very valid reason to be cross.”

Angel Dust takes another swig of his bottle. “It’s the fact that you weren’t angry that he was going to murder you in cold blood for me.”

You throw your arms into the air. “Okay, so it might not have been the best example,” you say, tapping your legs. “But that isn’t exactly my fault. Alastor is strangely honest.”

Angel Dust gapes at you. “No, he is not!”

“I don’t know, hun,” Mimzy says, leaning against the bar table. “Alastor kina is.”

“You won’t get the truth if you don’t ask,” you say, nodding your head. “And when you do ask, Alastor will either say the full horrifying truth, say it in a way that’s vague but still considered to be true, or dodge and not answer your question.”

Sir Pentious tilts his head, and he keeps a hand on his hat to keep it from falling. “And that is why we should not trust him?”

“There is no we, my dear,” you say. “That’s why you shouldn’t trust him.”

The hotel trembles.

You startle in your seat, gripping the table for stability. Mimzy clutches your arm, and you grab hers. It’s a small reassuring gesture that would make you smile at any other moment. Someone pounds on the door. You snap your head towards the entrance, nearly giving yourself whiplash. The hinges creak with every bang, and you watch with horror as the wooden frame begins to crack. Whatever wants to go in is determined to do so.

“MIMZY! We know you’re in there, you lousy bitch!”

You lock eyes with Mimzy, glaring at her with bristled feathers. “Really?”

“Whooops…?” she says with the most innocent smile. You grab your glass and throw it at her head. Mimzy snarls at you, searching for a stray bottle. She never finds it.

Glass rains down to the floor. Dust fills the space, and you cough when it irritates your throat. The whole hotel is in disarray. With a yelp, you jump away from the bar when one of the bone heads detaches and crushes your seat.

Mimzy scurries behind the bar.

A portal rips open in the middle of the room…Huh, that’s pretty cool. Vaggie steps out, Lucifer and Charlie behind her. “What is going on?”

Mimzy explains what she did. You roll your eyes when she does.

Fireballs shoot out the broken windows.

Motherfucker! You are going to kill Mimzy. You press against the wall to avoid Sir Pentious’ long tail from smacking into you as he slithers about. Angel Dust scurried away at the first sign of trouble. Of-fucking-course this happens today. Niffty scurries about, cleaning every debris in sight, You grab her by the collar, pulling her away from a stray fire. Niffty squirms out of your hold, and hops away. Another fireball keeps you from pursuing her.

“We’re under siege!” Sir Pentious exclaims, slithering about. “Take cover!”

Alastor pops out of your shadow, jerking your arm to pull you away.

You flap your arms to regain your balance.

Alastor keeps a steady hand on your shoulder, his hold on you firm. His touch keeps you grounded. Your eyes flutter to where you pressed against the wall, but Alastor pokes your cheek with the tips of your fingers, nudging your face to keep your eyes on him. The hotel burns in chaos, and you dig your fingers into the fabric of his coat.

Alastor holds your gaze. He smiles at you softly, but you see the hardness in his eyes and the tension is his jaw. 

You try to give him your best smile. “Much better?”

“No, not in the slightest” he says, eyes squinting into a harsh glare. Alastor doesn’t frown, but his teeth bare into a snarl. “Are you hurt?”

The hotel trembles, and more fire crashes through the windows. 

You try to turn to the chaos around you, but Alastor leans to the side, blocking the surroundings with his face. “I’d like an answer.”

He smoothes the feathers on your hair, and you lean into his hold, shaking your head. “Not a single feather out of place,” you say. “Thank you, my deerest.”

The hotel trembles once more, but you keep your gaze locked into Alastor’s.

“All of you get a safe distance,” Vaggie says, spear raised.” I’ll take care of this.”

 Satisfied, Alastor drops his hand from your head and turns to the door. “No, my dear. Leave it to me.” Radio static warps the air around you. His eyes morph into radio dials. “It’s time I remind everyone why I am here.” He has the smile on his face—that same smile that tell you he’s on the hunt. It makes you buzz.

Mimzy pops her head out.  “Ugh, finally!” she says, rolling her eyes. “Took you long enough.”

Tendrils shoot out of Alastor’s back and it waves around the air as if owning a mind of its own. His bones break with audible cracks to adjust to his expanding size. “A reminder to all, not to mess with the radio demon!” His teeth stick out when he smiles, and the little ‘x’ on his forehead appears.

Alastor laughs and begins his kill.

You rush out when your husband crawls out the broken doors, bolting from the bar and out the entrance. You watch Alastor. He grabs a shark with the tips of his fingers and uses the others to pull him apart, slowly, painfully, with a grin.

“Mimzy…” you say, slowly.

Mimzy shrinks next to you. “…Yeah?”

Alastor’s nails elongate and he pierces the shark, letting his blood trail down, reveling in his screams. “I really appreciate everything you do for me.”

A leg sails across the air, it’s bone sticking out. You smile to yourself as Alastor hunts down his prey. Blood paints the flowers red when his tendrils wag like a happy tail.

You’re faintly aware of Lucifer and Charlie arguing behind you.

The show is over too soon.

Alastor shrinks, twirls his microphone and stretches.

Mimzy runs, the first to approach Alastor. You don’t hear a word they’re saying, but Mimzy jabs her fingers into his coat. She leaves with a frown and a middle finger pointed at him.

You walk closer to your husband, a smile on your face. Alastor inches to you, bending close enough for you to reach his bowtie. The fabric is smooth against your fingers as your straighten it for him. “Much better?” you ask.

“Indeed.”

“You put up quite the show,” you tell him. “You looked absolutely riveting, my deer.”

Alastor’s smile widens, and he offers his arm, guiding you back into the hotel. “Did I?”

“You always do, my love.”

And oh…

Another song.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

Lucifer leaves, taking his singing with him.

As quietly as possible, you grab your belongings and check that nothing is missing: wallet, flip-phone, bus card, pieces of mint, various essential items, and lastly, your umbrella. You step out of what is left of the Hazbin Hotel’s front doors and stifle a yawn. Today’s excitement has gone on for too long. It was time to go home.

Drops of acid fall from the sky, a light drizzle forming. It was a good idea to stash that umbrella in your bag.

Alastor slithers out of your shadow, and covers your heads with an umbrella. “Did you happen to forget your umbrella?”

You force a sheepish smile on your lips. “I did, actually,” you lie to him. “But a walk seems rather lovely today.”

Alastor twirls the umbrella, his smile widening. “May I join you for your walk?”

“Are you not still working?” You glance behind you, observing the hotel.

Angel Dust sweeps glass off the carpet. He steals glances from time to time, trying his hardest to avoid looking in your direction—he doesn’t try hard enough. Your eyes meet, and you brush your stray feathers from your hair. A not so subtle way of showing off your ring. You stick out your tongue.

Angel Dust laughs, shaking his head with amusement.

Alastor adjusts the umbrella, angling it to block the prying eyes from inside the hotel. He raises his eyebrows, looking at you with a questionable glance.

You offer your most innocent smile. “I think they’re going to need a new door.”

“I think it’s time I clocked out,” he sys, inching the umbrella closer. “I shouldn’t have them getting too dependent on me.”

“Are those not grounds for prime picking?”

“I wouldn’t exactly be a doting husband if I left my wife to walk alone in the rain,” Alastor tells you.

“Doting husband?”

He nods, leaning closer to you. “Yes. Was that not your condition for our marriage?”

Your eyebrows furrow. “Did I say that?”

“You did.”

“Are you sure?” you ask, humming a bit. “I do not remember saying that at all.”

“Well, it wasn’t for you to remember,” he says. “And in any case, I did not call you to the hotel to prepare for some party.”

“Then why did you call me here?”

Alastor meets your eyes and his smile widens. “Allow me to join you, and you shall find out.”

“You’ve piqued my interest, deerest,” you say. “The best walks are usually the ones that are shared. It doesn’t hurt that you have an umbrella.”

“What would you do without me?”

You roll your eyes, and take a step closer. “You always seem to remember for me.”

Alastor fiddles with the umbrella. “What did you do for several years—get pelted by acid?”

“You would know the answer to that had you been present for those years,” you say and you don’t fight the coy smile that forms on your lips.

Alastor hums in displeasure. “Well, in any case, I only have this one umbrella.”

“I guess we’ll have to share.”

“Yes, it seems we will.”

Alastor offers his arm, and you loop your own around his. He doesn’t need to take precautions to ensure your clothes stay dry nor do you have to for his own attire, not when you press closely against each other. The umbrella covers the both of you just right.

You rest your head on his arm. It’s nice. Warm. Even if it was as thick as a stick. His bones press into your cheek. Your eyes flutter into a close… just… one… second…

Your knees buckle causing you to trip.

A frim grab of your waist keeps you from the ground. Your nose crinkles when you collide with Alastor’s chest. Finding strength in your legs, you dig your foot into the ground and stand.

Alastor keeps his hold on your waist steady, and you don’t move from his hold.

“Before you say anything—you are not fine,” he says. “I don’t want to hear anything else but an agreement.”

You peel your face from his chest, meeting his eyes to give him the brightest smile you can muster. It doesn’t come out as you hope. “It seems…It seems it will be my turn to postpone our outing today,” you say. “The excitement of the day seems to be catching up to me.”

You fell asleep while walking,” he says. “If it was not for me, you would be on the pavement.”

“Then it is a good thing I am no longer alone.”

A single tendril emerges from his back. It wraps around the umbrella’s handle, keeping it secured over your heads.

Alastor’s hand shifts from your waist to your back. You feel his other arm snaking down your legs, trailing your skin until he reaches the back of your knees.

Alastor lifts you like a bride.

Well, you actually are a bride…his bride, specifically.

Alastor continues the walk, holding you in his arms. You lean into him, and he places a chin on your head. “Your pointy chin is poking me, my deerest,” you say but you don’t move to push him off. “It’s digging into my scalp.

His chest rise and fall as he laughs, and you feel every bit of it against your cheek. “I could always drop you right over this puddle.”

“That wouldn’t really be part of the doting husband image, would it?” you say chuckling into his suit.

“No, I guess it would not.”

Smiling to yourself, you nuzzle deeper into the crook of his neck. “Hey, Al,” you mumble softly, “tell me a story.”

At the corner of your eyes, you see Alastor glance at you. His gaze lasts a second before he turns back ahead.  “It was 1929,” he says. “The beginning of the glorious Great Depression.”

You roll your eyes even if he doesn’t see it. “You are the only one I know who calls the Great Depression ‘glorious’. People were starving, and we almost got fired from our jobs.”

“That’s because it was a great year.”

“Because you got to see the sufferings of the masses?” You laugh softly. “That’s definitely something you would do. I can practically hear you laughing at the way they try to claw their way out of misery, only to fail spectacularly.”

“Because we got married that year,” he says. Even if you’re wearing a coat, and Alastor wears his gloves. Even with layers of cloth between your skin, you still feel the way Alastor caress your with his thumb. “Can I continue my story now or would you like to bicker about your failing memory?”

“Continue.”

“So, the start of the glorious Great Depression,” he says. “That day, I saw an ad for the local zoo. I wasn’t doing anything important, so I decided to support my local animals.”

“How kind of you,” you say, stifling a yawn.

“Indeed it was,” he says. “I stalk through the animals. Looking at every malnourished species they kept locked up—”

“You get to the alligator enclosure and to this day, swear that you saw it do a backflip,” you mumble softly, eyes dropping. “That’s pretty good for someone you claim to possess failing memories.”

“Alright then. I shall find another.” Alastor hums as he thinks, and his chest vibrates as he does. “Summer of 1916–long before I met you.”

“You don’t need to tell me that,” you say, huffing. “I’m well aware of the year we met, my deer. So, Summer of 1916?”

“It was a dark and stormy night. Weird for the summer seasons. Usually, the house becomes a furnace, but it was terribly cold,” Alastor tells you. “During that second night of the hurricane, a knock sounds from the door.”

“Oh… I’ve heard this as well.” You pick on the lapels of Alastor’s coat, tracing the white lines.

“You have?” Alastor raises his eyebrows

“Yes, it was your neighbor. His tree fell into the window and you and your mother ended up sheltering him for the night,” you say. “Then, you’ll tell me that he gifted you three pounts of cheese the next week.”

“I guess there’s nothing left to tell.”

You lean back to meet his eyes. They’re no longer brown. Once, a long time ago, you thought it was your favorite color. Now, you don’t think you’ve ever had a favorite color. You just liked his color. “Nonsense,” you says. “We are definitely not that old. I’m sure there should be be at least a few.”

“Alright, this one began fifteen years ago,” he says, tightening his grip on you. “I was waiting outside St. An’s, and a Sinner came out. It was my first time seeing a cow. It was quite a conundrum because — Oh, I think you’ve heard this already. Have you?”

Your eyelids are heavy. “I have.”

“And you choose not to inform me?”

“Can you tell it to me again?” You sink deeper into his hold.

“Of course, my love.”

Alastor’s steps lag until he comes to a full stop. He holds you in his gaze as the acid rain splatters grow stronger. It’s just you and him in this tiny bubble of an umbrella.

His eyes flicker, touching every inch of this scene. You do not know what he is thinking.

“Are you alright, my love?” you find yourself asking.

“Yes,” he says. “I’m just…trying not to waste, that’s all.”

“Come on,” you say in a voice that is oh so soft.

Alastor continues his story. You don’t hear the end of it.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

Next Part: | Part 4: The Radio Stars' Co-host Just Wants To Do The Dishes| I am excited to know what you guys think about this chapter. My replies and inbox are always open for any questions. I always get so happy to see my notifications. It's a bit addicting actually. Thank you to everyone who has interacted with this story. Every like, reblog, and reply means so much to me. Part 4 will be poasted as soon as possible

[les4elliewilliams]

Ellie is away... // e.w

Chapter 5 – 2006, Senior year college

a/n: I'm so sorry this took me ages to post. it was actually ready I just kept forgetting to. this is the last chapter, BUT I'm considering making an alternative last chapter. why you may ask? figure it out on your own. MDNI.

cw;wc: 1.3k ; mention of alcohol, angst.

summary: a time before skype and facebook, windows xp just came out and Windows Messenger was the thing of the moment.

➥ part four

brickmaster has signed in

ynshere: babe hiiiii

brickmaster: hiii brickmaster: how's it going gorgeous?

ynshere: better now ynshere: i missed you :(

brickmaster: i know baby brickmaster: we’ll see each other soon, promise

ynshere: will you come over? ynshere: this weekend i mean

brickmaster: sorry baby, can't brickmaster: going out with Riley and her friends brickmaster: if that’s okay?

ynshere: oh ynshere: but you already hung out with her last friday…I haven’t seen you in a while

brickmaster: yn brickmaster: come on, i promise. next friday i'm all yours brickmaster: i really wanna go out, i am allowed to have fun once in a while… I study my ass off every day, i'm stressed as hell

ynshere: i know, i just miss you. that’s it

brickmaster: maybe you could hang out with us? I’m sure she won’t mind

ynshere: you sure?

brickmaster: yeah, positive

ynshere: if i'm not a bother then yeah ynshere: i just wanna be with you :(

brickmaster: you're never a bother baby brickmaster: see you this friday?

ynshere: see you this friday :) ynshere: call me later, maybe? If you got time

brickmaster: yeah, will do brickmaster: i love you

ynshere is typing…

brickmaster is away

ynshere: i love you too

brickmaster has signed in

ynshere: mi amor hiii ynshere: babe? ynshere: hellooooo???

brickmaster: sorry angel brickmaster: i'm here brickmaster: was chatting with Riley lol brickmaster: how you doing?

ynshere: yeah. Riley. of course i'm gooooddd ynshere: missing you tho ;(

brickmaster: me too, pretty

ynshere: wanna go out on a date this weekend? ynshere: just you and me ynshere: no Riley around… we haven't spent time alone in like forever

brickmaster: yeah sure brickmaster: what do you wanna do?

ynshere: hmmm not sure maybe go out for dinner?

brickmaster: sounds like a plan brickmaster: Riley almost got in trouble today in class

ynshere: it's always about Riley lmao what did she do?

brickmaster: basically she snuck alcohol in class brickmaster: she just put it in her water bottle and she goes around with that thing brickmaster: art teacher almost caught her today, we were literally crying brickmaster: i was laughing so much that my stomach started to hurt

ynshere: oh lol

brickmaster: yeah it was exhilarating, you should’ve seen her

ynshere: did you drink as well? ynshere: in class

brickmaster: just a bit..i mean everyone was, sooo

ynshere: you shouldn't drink in class Els ynshere: you don't have to do something just because everyone is doing it

brickmaster: please don't give me the mom attitude brickmaster: this is why i can never tell you anything

ynshere: :/ i'm just looking out for you because i care. you do you

brickmaster: yeah whatever, see you this weekend

ynshere is typing… ynshere: no wait i'm sorry i love you

brickmaster is away.

ynshere: where's my i love you :(

brickmaster has signed in

ynshere: baby ynshere: hi

brickmaster: howdyy

ynshere: howdy? lol is this Joel

brickmaster: lmao no, Riley says it every second brickmaster: I thought it was funny

ynshere: oh haha ynshere: happy 1 year and 5 months together :)

brickmaster: oh yeah shit brickmaster: i forgot. sorry, pretty girl brickmaster: happy anniversary-monthiversary brickmaster: i love you

ynshere: i love you toooo ynshere: i just realized i haven't heard it in a while :(

brickmaster: well yeah i mean you're not supposed to say it every second

ynshere: haven't heard it in months, El

brickmaster: oh please brickmaster: always so dramatic brickmaster:  anyways, i'm going out brickmaster:  i'll call you later brickmaster:  i love you!!!!!

brickmaster is away

ynshere: are you sick of me? love you too

ynshere has signed in

brickmaster: omg babe babe

ynshere: love of my lifee ynshere: what's upp

brickmaster: i'm going to a concert this weekend brickmaster: i'm so happy omg omg

ynshere: oh really? let me guess ynshere: deftones?

brickmaster: yes!!! Freaking Riley surprised me with a ticket this morning, i genuinely cried brickmaster: god she's the best

ynshere: what about me? that's so sweet of her :) ynshere: you think i can tag along too?

brickmaster: sorry babe, i doubt it brickmaster: thickets are all sold out

ynshere: aww shame :(

brickmaster: i knowww but shit fuck i'm so excited

ynshere: i'm happy for you Els ynshere: think it's okay if i come see you next friday? haven't seen you in a month

brickmaster: of course angel

ynshere: yay okay ynshere: my roommate needs my computer real quick ynshere: i'll call you later alright? i love you soo much

brickmaster: talk to you laterr, love you

ynshere is away.

brickmaster has signed in

brickmaster: babe hi

ynshere: hey

brickmaster: how's it going?

ynshere: good, currently studying for an exam. what about you?

brickmaster: just chilling in my dorm brickmaster: it's been a hell of a week

ynshere: right

brickmaster: hey, you sure you alright? you seem off

ynshere: i'm good

brickmaster: yn what's up?

ynshere: it's just ynshere: last week...when i hung out with you, Riley and her friends, i noticed you act so different around them ynshere: and i've been wondering which version of you is the real one

brickmaster: i think you're overthinking it brickmaster: i'm just me

ynshere: you're just distant idk ynshere: you seem more cold, like you don't enjoy spending time with me

brickmaster: it's not like that though brickmaster: you're overthinking

ynshere: alright then, forget it ynshere: i'm going out

brickmaster: thought you said you were studying?

ynshere is away.

brickmaster: alright then.

brickmaster has signed in

brickmaster: hey yn

ynshere: hey

brickmaster: how are you doing? brickmaster: it's been a while

ynshere: yeah i know, i’ve been busy ynshere: i'm doing okay though, thank you for asking ynshere: what about you? brickmaster: yeah me too

ynshere: got plans for tonight?

brickmaster: i think i’m going out with Riley

ynshere: ah cool.

brickmaster: what are you doing tonight?

ynshere: going out with Emma

brickmaster: that's nice

ynshere: yeah

brickmaster: Dina came to visit a week ago brickmaster: she asked me about you

ynshere: oh really? ynshere: what’d you tell her?

brickmaster: well, the truth brickmaster: that we broke up months ago brickmaster: i’ve always assumed she already knew

ynshere: haven’t talked to her in a while actually ynshere: i barely catch her online ynshere: and i'm always busy, so

brickmaster: yeah right brickmaster: i guess that’s why she asked about you

ynshere: most likely

brickmaster: i gotta go now, going out in an hour

ynshere: alright, see you

brickmaster is away.

ynshere has signed in ynshere: Ellie hi

brickmaster: hey

ynshere: how's everything going for you?

brickmaster: everything’s alright

ynshere: can you believe that college is almost over?

brickmaster: yeah it's crazy

ynshere: we’re almost adults

brickmaster: doesn’t feel like it’s been 4 years

ynshere: do you miss high school?

brickmaster: not really brickmaster: i’d rather not think about the past though

ynshere: well, okay ynshere: what are you doing after graduation?

brickmaster: probably moving in with Riley brickmaster: i don't know if i told you, we started dating a couple months ago

ynshere: ah congrats

brickmaster: sorry maybe it's too much?

ynshere: i'm still in love with you nah it's fine ynshere: was i too boring? was i not good enough? how’s your week been going?

brickmaster: it's been alright, just busy

ynshere: what’d you do today?

brickmaster: just school and now homework

ynshere: so, how’s school?

brickmaster: it’s alright. same old same old

ynshere: gone to any concerts lately?

brickmaster: not really, i've been busy with school you know

ynshere: will we ever be the way we were watched any good movies lately?

brickmaster: no, not really

ynshere: is this it for us? how’s Joel doing?

brickmaster: he’s doing alright, thanks

ynshere: i miss you that’s great :)

brickmaster: i think i’m going to go, yn. goodbye

ynshere: please don’t leave me okay, bye Els

brickmaster is away.

¡! daily click・palestine masterpost・do not buy any game from naughty dog, neil druckmann is a zionist・more daily clicks. ¡!

taglist: smelliewilliams onlinelesbo itsbecomeblue macaroni676 tearouthearts diddiqueen liasxeatt seraphicsentences 4ftergloww @benthoee liasxeatt satellitespinner tphmnv kaiilectric bready101 (sorry if i forgot to add anyone)

[alatushours]

☆ WINTER WONDERLAND, genshin men — when the snow keeps you indoors, what are you doing to pass the time?

contents. features zhongli, kazuha and albedo. gender neutral reader. holidays, fluff ♡ word count. 457

notes. i’m posting this just two days after my last one i’m proud of myself :muscle emoji: here’s a sweet little winter drabble for you all, and i am planning a longer piece to be (hopefully) posted on christmas day <3 also zhongli debut ! ! !

zhongli brews hot drinks for you to share. earl grey tea for him, and a mug of hot chocolate with extra whipped cream for you, to enjoy by the warm fireplace.

“there’s nothing like a cup of warmth to brighten up your day,” he says, setting a wooden tray down on the table. “drink it while it’s still warm, love.”

you smile and nestle up to him with your hot chocolate in hand, watching the flames roar in the hearth as you sipped from the mug.

“you have something on your face,” zhongli remarks. you turn to face him, confused. he swipes a finger across the corner of your lips, revealing the dollop of whipped cream on his index finger. “there, all gone.”

you laugh, giving him a kiss. “who needs hot chocolate when i have you to keep me nice and cozy?”

albedo takes the snow day as an opportunity to spend time with his lover. he accompanies you the whole day, doing whatever you want to do.

you wanted to make gingerbread cookies for your christmas party, so he helped you shape the batter into trees and presents and candy canes. while they were in the oven, you sat by the window, staring at the snowfall outside.

“look, ‘bedo!” you exclaimed, pointing at the snow-covered rooftops. “it’s like i’m looking inside a giant snow globe!”

“oh, so it does.” albedo smiles at your childish shenanigans. “if the snowstorm lets up, perhaps i’ll bring klee out to play later.”

a long afternoon of decorating cookies and wrapping presents later, albedo finds you asleep on the couch, a half-finished knit sweater in your lap. your lover chuckles to himself before going off to find his art supplies. he hasn’t drawn in a while, perhaps now is the perfect moment for a new masterpiece.

kazuha spends the day in bed with you; telling stories of winters back in inazuma while you play with his hair.

he shared how, back in his youth, there would be sparrows in the trees and snow foxes that frolicked in the snow-covered fields.

“were there big festivals with sparkly lights?” you ask him.

he nods. "there were festivals, but none as big as the ones here," he replies. "like the one being held today."

you sit upright, remembering what day it was. “wait! the winter wonderland extravaganza? that’s today?!” you sighed. “oh archons, i completely forgot! we wouldn’t have been able go anyway, with this freak snowstorm going on outside.”

kazuha laughs. “well, i suppose that means we can take another nap, hm?”

well, you couldn’t say no to spending the whole day in bed doing nothing. you smile and climb back under the covers, feeling your boyfriend’s warmth. “i suppose it does.”

end notes. fastest i’ve ever wrote something omg 0.0 i hope it didn’t seem too rushed, but i wanted to get something short and sweet out before a longer piece that i hope to be posted on christmas day!

© alatushours 2023. please do not copy, modify, or translate my work in any way, nor upload to any other platforms. in the meantime, if you enjoyed, please like, reblog, and consider leaving a follow! it helps a lot ♡

[fulgurbugs]

another doll post!

they cut me from work early, so i had time to stop by my walmart and see if catty was in. she was! i picked her up with some birthday money for 24.99.

forgot to get a pic of her in the box. here she is unboxed tho! she has saran with microbraids around her hairline (be careful, these come undone easily.)

initial thoughts: while her outfit is cute… it’s missing a littleeee bit of flair. some shoe paint, or maybe a jacket, like in her concept art? these little shoulder things are kind of horrendous. (and they kept coming unvelcroed under her pits.) might look into making her something.

now, there’s a reason i i got excited about catty when i was previously unenthused about her. and that’s her new body sculpt! let’s cut to the chase, that’s what we want to see.

here she is! she is now the biggest MH sculpt, by quite a significant amount. luckily she can still fit on this stand, but it has to grab her right at the underboob at her thinnest point.

it doesn’t photograph well, but she has a pink-tinged iridescence to her body, that could read like shiny fur. it looks great, and makes her look very glittery and dimensional.

wide and back views. i love that she actually has a bit of a tummy, and she also has a much thicker tail than toralei. (i wasn’t able to yank the tail out, tho i think it’s supposed to come off.)

here’s some comparisons with some of the other ghouls. she’s a medium height girl, and i’d say she’s slightly thicker in the body and thighs than abbey, though the way she’s proportioned give her a fatter body type compared to her.

it’s more evident when they’re turned to the side. draculaura only has larger thighs, so if we specially compare to abbey, you can see cattys even larger thighs and her stomach compared to abbeys flat one.

she has smaller feet (same as draculaura’s size.) her hands are also standard size.

back to the doll with her clothes on. here’s her boots, as is mh doll tradition

cool sculpt, definitely need paint. probably a pretty simple project to do, but all those buckles and chains are just begging for a layer of silver. only a teeeeny bit got silver paint, which i think is a shame. allegedly most of the budget for catty went into developing her sculpt, so her outfit definitely is a little lacking….

face card. i adore ADORE her makeup, the little stars…. the side glance… augh. my favorite part is her lip paint, though. the gradient looks absolutely lovely.

the accessories. since this is catty’s core doll, she comes with some of the core staples: her phone, a backpack, her pet cat amulette, and some sunglasses. in addition, she has a mic, a broken hand mirror, a water bottle, and some sheet music

here’s inside the backpack and her sheet music open. (the sheet music is literally just a little piece of paper lol.)

here’s her with some of her accessories! i decided to restyle her hair a little bit as well, i saw a cute restyle that took her micro braids and made a little side bang with them, and that was simple to replicate, so i did that too. i also made her ponytail higher, which i think looks a lot cuter. i think i wanna give her a little ponytail accessory or something tho… maybe in black? dunno. i also think she looks cute with her glasses on her forehead, so i’m leaving them.

obligatory .5 shot.

and that’s catty noir! (lagoona foot jumpscare). i think she’s a lovely addition to the g3 lineup, and i really, really can’t wait to see what they do with her in another line. her reception (at least in the spaces i lurk) has been so overwhelmingly positive that i think when we see her next, they can really go all out and give her a gorgeous outfit and a fun theme (maybe a skulltimate secrets doll?) it felt appropriate to put her with my monster fest girlies, so she got center stage (sorry cleo and frankie) thanks for reading this far!

[yourlocalartsonist]

MONTHLY MFIP UPDATE✨✨

9/24 | Month 2 | Next Month | Month 1

Hey folks 🦐 I finally got the chance to make this month’s MFIP Update cuz god damn life was kicking my ass. College is fine for the most part tbh, just a lot of reading and writing cuz of the specific classes I chose. HOWEVER I have 💥FUCKING PMDD💥 so um skill issue on my part but it’s why I’ve been kinda exhausted as shit this week and was late with the update so my bad folks! (Also for more info on PMDD, click here! I don’t wanna spend this post yapping about it but wanted to leave a resource to spread awareness just in case :3). Also, Imma be tagging some of y'all who have been reading/supporting MFIP consistently just for this post, so yk you guys actually know these updates exist. I was gonna do that for the first ever update but as with many things, I forgor, so I'm doing it now! They’re supposed to come out on the 18th of every month, but yk sometimes life happens and I’m a lil late. It won’t be any earlier than the 18th tho so look out for these once it hits that date! Anywho, cheers to this month’s update!

Alrighty folks we be starting with the Art~!

Alrighty so obvious new thing, WE GOT RAPH’S REF SHEEEEEEEET TEEHEEEEEEE

BRO IM SO HYPE ABOUT IT! It turned out so genuinely amazing and I’m ridiculously proud of it! Especially cuz I honestly thought Raph was gonna be a harder design to figure out yk? I’m not used to drawing his body type, I wasn’t as familiar with his outfit, and even tho I’ve sketched him a few times before, I was just a bit nervous with Raph. Funfact, he’s also been the hardest to figure out how to write back when I was first starting MFIP. I genuinely don’t know why, but I got there eventually (I actually really love writing him now—) and same thing happened with his design!

Since MFIP’s taking place a few months after the Krang invasion, i’m able to take creative liberties and update the boys’ designs more! For some clarification btw, in my story’s lore, the invasion took place in September 2020, and MFIP starts on March 2021. Anywhizzle, my ideas for the boys’ designs is to combine their movie look with their show look, cuz while I do LOVE the black on them, it doesn’t feel right to me to not make them still unique in their own ways. These guys are all about authenticity, so why make their gear exactly the same, ya get me? I basically recolored his show gear to be black and red (and added a lil asymmetry on his legs) cuz I think it makes Raph feel older and more sure about himself, just feels right for him! I also just think the red fade on the black is hella cool! Fun lil color theory i think application, the black is more of a really dark, inky blue, so it makes the red pop out even more! I decided to make a bow out of his mask tails, too! I don’t wanna spoil the entire lore reasoning for it yet (it’ll pop up in the story), but I can indeed say it’s intentional that it looks a little like a lunamoth with damaged tails :3 I also took a BUNCH of creative liberties with his sais’ handles, since we haven’t really seen it much so like idk gaslight yourselves into thinking it’s always been this epic✨✨

Also I gave him his shorts back because FUCK YOU I LIKED THE RED TRIMMMM—

OH I ALMOST FORGOT yes he has longer eyelashes! I saw he grows to have really pretty eyelashes in the future cuz of his turtle species, and I wanted to lean into that by showing they’re starting to grow now :3

Bullshit Gag Because Yes‼️‼️

There ain’t shit to say about this, I just pulled a silly. I saw the fact Donnie was supposed to have a “Doctor Donatello” persona in the deleted episode where Dale turns into a werewolf. I’m really heavily on the train of Leo being the team medic and into medicine in general. I don’t think it makes sense for Donnie to be the medic judging by his sensory issues and this mf being as much of a germaphobe as my mom, and in my opinion it felt too stereotypical anyway to have Donnie be the medic. Ofc, to each their own, and this is just my interpretation of it, but I thought it’d be funny if Donnie still had this persona and was passionate about it, but was like horrifically bad at being a doctor. I made this dumbass sketch that I’ll finish sometime in the future (it’s gonna be a chapter in Arc 3 probably) and I just wanted to share it with yall~

THEY’RE HUMAN NOW⁉️

My ass wanted to show off cuz I’m sketching out some ideas of what my human designs for the boys culd be. I already did Leo’s like ages ago so he’s not on here but I’m realizing as I’m typing this my dumbass forgor to post it so um my bad I will do that in a few days—

But I wanted to design (or more accurately, redesign cuz I did draw em once a while back but I’m not satisfied with them) and I think I ate so far so uh yea. There isn’t any logic to sharing this, I just thought it was cool😭

And actually, imma share them here too just so y’all can see my boy ;w;

(A lil outdated cuz I didn’t give him lips at the time)

Okay there we go~

As you can see, I want all the boys to look kinda etherial and like they'd turn heads, and I think I am SUCCEEDING SO HARD SO FAR CUZ DAMNNNN THEY'RE ALL PRETTY AS SHIIIIIIIT TEEHEE✨ Also am tryna make sure they actually look Blasian since that's what the canon of my story says they are. I'll talk about them more another time when I have all of them on here~

But yea that's all for art this time folks :> ONTO THE NEXT THINGGG

Chapter Progress Time Whoop Whoooop‼️‼️

I didn’t make much progress on anything this month due to college—again, it’s fine, but there’s a shit ton of time management going on in my part to just manage everything and make sure I’m on track—BUT I am indeed still working on chapter 10. We’re up to 20 pages now which is only two more pages written from last month, but it’s kinda cool writing Donnie and I feel like I’m getting a better understanding of him! One thing I’ve been tryna do is understand autism better as a condition cuz I do wanna acknowledge and show bro’s autism instead of just ignoring it due to a lack of understanding. Donnie ain’t Donnie without it, ya know? I don’t know everything and tbh I would say I still have A LOT to learn on the subject matter, but I’m tryna expand my knowledge every opportunity I get and experimenting with how to better show it! This is to say tho, I’M NOT A MEDICAL PROFESSIONAL, NOR AN EXPERT ON THE AUTISM SPECTRUM. This is what I’m finding and comprehending via my own research, and can tbh end up being wrong so please don’t quote me as a reliable source, I’m still learning ;v;

I remember one of the things I kept hearing about was autism leading people to struggle with empathy. The best way I heard it being described was someone bringing the example of when their friend was upset. That person can’t truly feel their friend’s emotions because they’re not the one experiencing it, so can’t properly understand how it’s making their friend feel. But they can see that their friend is communicating their sadness, and they still try to comfort them and make sure their friend knows they’re there for support. I understood it as bringing logic to emotions in a sense; collecting data and figuring out how to handle the situation based on the data rather than using intuition alone.

I’ve been using that to figure out how Donnie might handle more emotionally subtle situations, where he might try to rationally work through what’s happening and kinda substitute it in place of natural empathy. Like the little tidbit I gave above! Instead of just automatically being able to get vibes that the other person is upset, I felt maybe Donnie would instead notice the fact their tone is kinda different from before; it’s basically a data point. With that data point in mind, he could connect it to past experiences where a tone change could indicate a mood change, and as a result he might conclude that Salena’s tone change means she’s upset. I comprehend it as manually working through empathy rather than it being second nature, if that makes sense. Obviously and thankfully Donnie isn’t gonna spend the entire chapter playing a guessing game or anything with Salena’s emotions, it’s just one lil moment that I thought was cool challenge to myself with when writing him! I really love putting myself in the characters’ shoes when I’m writing them or their dialogue. I highly recommend it as a tool too, since it's helped me a lot with staying in character!

Last Lil Segment Y'all

Aight so, I wanted to try doing something cool if y'all are up for it. I really love rambling about my story and lore and characters blah blah blah, but I don't really know how to do so tbh. I'm not that familiar with how social medias work cuz I just never took it seriously, and I don't wanna just keep being like HEYYYYY ASK BOX IS OPENNNNN like I'm screaming from the top of the hill either. Sooooo insteaddddd

I think it'd be fun to do Q&As here! Or at least something similar. I'll open my ask box again and feel free to send any questions you want; it can be about the story, past lore, design questions, getting to know the characters, absolutely anything! Then when I'm gonna do my update for the month, I'll compile all y'all's asks, (prolly will have to tag to make sure you guys know I answered it, or if you ask anon then uh idk look out for the monthly update) and then answer them during the monthly update as the last section! I think it'll be a cool way to make this feel more interactive, and gives me an excuse to ramble. Don't be afraid to ask potentially spoilery questions either! If it's something I can't spoil yet or even give hints or vague answers about, I'll just say so in the update!

Anywhizzle, That's All Folks~!

I'm glad there was so much to talk about this month! I actually deadass thought it would be short but I should know better with my yapping' ass💀✨ But yeah, thanks for reading everyone! I hope y'all enjoy the rest of your days, and I shall see you next month~ Bye :D

Tageroonies:

@yosajaeofficial @chaoticspeedrun @ramblehour @randomcerealbrand @goldanrabbit @m1sf0rtun3 @foundthethief @ackalice @jellyfishheartsss @dollyrin @harukonene @iieieiw @mwantstossleep @zipzaizen @hypocriticaltypwriter @lordfreg @rainbowpr1sm @idioticsky @oleander-nin @cheeselord-official @skittlesqueen101

By the way, if you guys think you’d like to be tagged whenever an MFIP chapter is posted, lmk in a reblog or comment (no asks or dms plz, too inconvenient) and I’ll be sure to tag so it’s more reliable than tumblr notifs :3🫶

ROTTMNT: Moths Fly In Packs

[bubblybloob]

Hey, so this kind of turned into a vent. Be wary going in, but it’s important if you engage some with my stuff. I think I’ve been thinking about it more as btg has become more active, and wanted to get it all off my chest.

I’ve wanted to bring this up for a while now, after my popularity grew. I’m sure some people have noticed my lack of joy at the 500 followers milestone, and the 600 one, but it’s a bit more complicated than on the surface.

So, there was something I haven’t really mentioned. It wasn’t ever really a secret, I just didn’t feel it was important, and was always taught it was dangerous to talk about and to dance around the subject if brought up. But I’ve noticed that the people on Tumblr find this kind of important to know when interacting. I know people on here can get really hostile, and this kind of became a secret because of that. I don’t know if it’s bad that I haven’t said anything or not, but I thought I should still make a post anyway.

So, I’m, in my country, since I know it might be younger or older in other places, a minor.

Okay most important stuff first. Yes, I’ve said or drawn mildly suggestive stuff, that’s mostly because I’m very unaffected by it and find it more amusing (I might be a little ace idk), though I do purposely keep stuff I make mostly tame simply because like- still technically a kid. I’ve seen stuff far more suggestive from afar before and just nod and say “mm, yes, that exists” and indifferently move the hell on with my life.

Being part of the STP community has been really strange for me and not all in good ways. I hate hate hate people looking up to me, or being jealous, or having anxiety talking to me because- in my head- I’m just doing everything and talking to everyone I can because I like making stuff and talking to people, and I feel so uncomfortable up on this pedestal where I’m held so high, but if I make one wrong step I’ll have tomatos thrown at me. It’s a really claustrophobic and isolating position and feeling and it makes me feel sick, anxious, stressed, and really really scared.

I like the community I’m in and friends I’ve made, but I’m really afraid I’ll say something unusual or wrong or maybe even offensive since I don’t know everything I’m supposed to say or do. I don’t know how to act when someone’s depressed, I don’t know how people feel about shipping, or designs for characters who canonically don’t have a physical appearance, or what the opinion is on all of the nsfw content. I do the Homer Simpson bush meme whenever I see it pop up because if there’s something that I do know, it’s that people don’t want minors reading their blorbos being sexy with each other.

(Side note: The amount of times I’ve accidentally clicked on an explicit fic thinking ‘Oo what’s this’ and then seeing what’s going to happen is… not staggering, actually. But enough for me to laugh in hindsight. I scroll to the bottom to read the comments to confirm my suspicions, and get the hell out. Happened with the same fics multiple times too because I forgot they were explicit and that I’d encountered them in the first place, wondered why I never read them and then boom, flashback, I never read the description like the fool I am).

And there’s the thing isn’t it. Some parts of fandom culture, it feels like all I can do is mess up. I just don’t know how I can handle all the fear of this attention?

Like, I don’t hate it. I like interacting, I like that people love my art despite my grievances with parts of my style, I’ve been so motivated to grow and get better because of everyone. You can all look at my oldest STP post and newest one and see the differences plainly.

But it’s really so much, and I’m as grateful as I am terrified. I’m terrified of hurting someone’s feelings when I don’t mean to. Like, what if I follow someone and they get excited because I’m a “big name” and then I decide to unfollow for whatever reason I might have at the time? I might crush that person’s soul or want to interact.

Despite my willingness, I do have problems with some ships, but I can’t voice any because what if I start a big argument with a bunch of people involved instead of the normal discussion I wanted to have? People are more likely to take my side because I’m the popular person, and we all know popular people are always right about everything and we must regurgitate their opinions without any thought put into how you actually feel. And then I’ll make whoever I was talking to retreat for a really long time, and everything will be awful and terrible forever and ever.

I can’t do that to people! I’ve been those people! I’ve was told things by people I looked up to and would get so so so upset, because I’m really emotional. I don’t want to hurt someone who might be sensitive like me.

I really just wanted to get all these feelings off my chest. Sorry if it got pretty venty. I’m open to discussing it, I’m still really scared to post this, it’s my only ever vent post, but I’ll try not to just save it in my drafts and let it rot.

[aztarion]

WIP WEDNESDAY THURSDAY almost friday whatever day yayyy

tagged by most beloved @nsewell <33

(again im going off moots i've seen share art and writing so ignore/kill me with hammers if you hate these..)

ill tag @nat-seal-well @scalproie @devilbrakers @dietgabbana @recents @nightwardenminthara @serenpedac @agentnatesewell @kazamajun @nerdferatum and anybody who wandered in here… tag me if you post something & ill know to tag you in the future :D

thought id try do this before it turned into friday for me :D another cheesy snippet from that halloween abandoned farmhouse fic i posted last time too (takes place before that scene) -- its a bit longer bc my art wips are atrocious right now but adam jumpscare at the bottom!

---

It is with not an insignificant amount of restraint – really, Nate would be singing his high praise – that Mason stops, bites down on his cigarette, and turns away, recollecting himself enough to smooth his hackles into something resembling human civility.

He flicks the butt underfoot and stomps, twice. He rolls his shoulders. He sets his jaw. He sniffs.

Precipitation forming in the clouds overhead; temperature is ten degrees from chilly; slight, invariable breeze. Less birdsong today. Huh. More pollen. An overwhelming scent of pine, and an aftertaste of salt and smog, even this far out from Wayhaven town and the neighboring city. He clicks his tongue.

And, oh, of course — of fucking course. He forgot to cut the label off this goddamn fucking shirt and the way it’s grazing against his neck is enough to drive him back on the verge of a goddamn fucking frenzy.

“Dev!” Felix whoops.

Mason whips around so fast the movement upends leaves in the brush. With precise, fluted tunnel vision, grey eyes narrow in on her.

Deva marches towards them on uneven, thickly reeded ground from the opposite side of the small clearing. The sky, bruising into evening, gasps in a narrow ark behind her, cold kissing her nose and cheeks, turning pale olive to petal pink.

She blows out a breath, picking up her pace. It’s still not quick enough for him — like she’s galloping in sap. Mason stifles the almost-tremoring need to meet her halfway.

“Hey,” she calls in greeting, mid-battle with bog tree roots.

“Get a move on,” Mason barks. Felix snickers conspiratorially beside him.

“Hurry, Dev, I think he’s gonna blow.”

Mason rounds on the shorter vampire, who grins with porcelain-white veracity, but his stewing annoyance dissipates as quickly as it elevated when warm fingers envelope his, shelling his senses in unblooming, noiseless absolution. He shudders, not quite able to quell the flood of relief.

“Where’s Nate?” Dev asks after a moment, as if giving his body time to settle. Almost like she knew.

“Decided to wait with Adam back at the facility,” Felix says, pulling absently on the periwinkle strings of his periwinkle hoodie. He throws a face that tells her exactly what he thinks of Nate’s decision.

“Leaving you two without a referee?” Deva smiles easily. Felix mirrors it — with an extra flash of fiend.

“You’re late,” Mason cuts in.

“Nice Adam impression, he usually goes a little lighter on the murderous intent.” She squeezes his hand — it’s a gentle tease – before adding, “Car trouble. So, what’s the plan?”

Mason rolls his eyes and doesn’t even bother asking after that wreck-on-wheels this time. Deva’s in one piece — that’s good enough for him.

Felix points at Mason, who removes something small from his jacket pocket with his free hand. He offers it to her, rather unceremoniously.

“Radio,” he says. “Put it on.”

“We’re splitting up too?” Dark brows raise as she stares at the tiny device deposited in her palm.

“Eh, kinda. I’m supposed to scout ahead,” says Felix, tapping at his own matching earpiece. “Last team the Agency sent said it was all clear, but you know what Adam’s like with precautions.”

“It’s just a follow up, right? Back at the old farm house?” Raking swathes of black hair out of her face, Deva hooks the dainty plastic cuff around cartilage as Felix begins to fill her in. Mason still hasn’t really gotten used to the new cut. Change always threw him.

When they’d met, right up until after all the bullshit with that no-count shitheel auctioneer, Deva’s hair had almost been down to her ass. Now it just about reaches her chin – much shorter than his, even. It tends to draw his full attention to the long sweep of her neck on more than one occasion. Right now, in fact, he finds himself casually admiring the two small, purpling hickies he’d left her with just the night before.

Yeah. Maybe he liked the new hair. Maybe he really liked it.

“Helloooo?” Felix flaps his hand wildly in Mason’s direct line of sight, ripping him from some quickly unspooling, sweaty thoughts. “Are you even listeni–?”

“No,” Mason says plainly, fixing him with a glare. Felix pulls another face, then blows out a long breath.

“Ugh, whatever. I hate being the responsible one. Just make sure nobody kidnaps Dev. Again.”

Dev frowns.

“I think I prefer Adam’s pep talks before a mission.”

---

do feel free to critique if u want/have time to, im rusty af and i know it . & a sketchy adam referenced from john cena in a babydoll tee from some movie that crossed my dash yesterday

[pojacket]

Hey, what day is it?

(That’s what they’re dancing too, maybe)

FNF Free Download turns 2 years old 1 minute after this post! (scheduled at 11:59.) That’s old enough for babies to talk, good job free download! But thank you to Tyler and Funne for creating such an inspiring game! This felt like something that could only exist in my dreams (in a good way) from the humor, the art, the characters, the music…it all just resonated with me and so many other people. Once Girl next door got to the dance break, THERE WAS NO TURNING BACK. I’m also thankful to be apart of the free download community. I don’t really interact with communities that much so free download is kinda a first for me. But everyone there is super cool and seeing people talk about the game is always great. And making art for free download made me a lot better at art too! Well…as good as you can get when you don’t look at tutorials…

Strad and his lover are dancing in the stars :) Lady’s mom doesn’t have official colors, so I had to make my own. Hopefully they fit her well. It’d probably make more sense to do a big group piece where everyone is together but I wanna put some attention to Strad! After all, April 1st is also Weeknd 1’s anniversary (and I’m not saying this because I didn’t have enough time to make a big group piece whaaat nooo) I was supposed to post this for the anniversary but I forgot it even existed:

LeoLuster posted his anniversary artwork too, check it out! https://www.newgrounds.com/art/view/leoluster214/happy-2nd-birthday-fnffd

Well, that’s the end of the blog. Since you’ve read this far, here’s Charlie balling.

Remember, no matter what life throws at you, stay calm.

AND DRINK WATER.

[tiredfox64]

Oh, what’s this? Does my persona have something new in her hands?

Ah yes, she has my followers. And how many do we have?

Over 50?!?!?!?! What the fu-

So yes I gained over 50 followers (now it’s over 60 since I woke up) which some might think that’s too little to celebrate. But if you put them all in one room I sure would panic from that so i say that is a big amount. Tbh I’m shocked because I only meant to drop some Rain fics since I wasn’t seeing enough and just dip. But we can all see that it has become more than that and now I write fics. I knew it would happen one of these days and it has. So as a little celebration I will show you some of my recent art because I did say I do that in my pinned post. Alright, let’s go!

Phen my dear

The story behind this is that I made a post on Reddit and it got a bunch of upvotes which was a shock. I basically asked why he stands so weird and everyone yelled that he serves cunt. Someone drew it out for me as well which is where I even thought of the quote. So I quickly drew him up cause i couldn’t stop thinking about it and yeah. And if you saw this on Reddit that means you also found my Reddit account. Not so fun fact I had a dream where I wrote a fanfic about him and people were eating it up. I fear it may come true with the things I’ve seen.

Are you a fox or a fairy

Let me admit I’m not the greatest artist. The corner picture was a trial run to see how I wanted her to look. Basically this was me making my Tumblr into a person (does that make sense). I don’t like the hair that much maybe a split would do better. I’m also not the best with backgrounds. But she is still cute, don’t have a true name for her tho.

False God

I take a writing class and this was part of my short story. The teeth are supposed to look fucked up like that which someone said grossed them out when they critiqued it lol. I know the mouth is a bit wonky but what can ya do. What’s done is done. Also I got distracted while working on him that I forgot to go to my asl class 💀.

And yeah that’s about it. Not much but it’s because I’ve only gained motivation recently. Hope when summer hits I can do some more.

Once again thank you everyone for following, liking and reposting, even taking time to comment. This might go unnoticed since I am only known as of now for doing MK fanfics which is fine. I just thought I would share some stuff. Like I said I’m not the greatest artist (it’s not the program there is someone else on here who is a master in my eyes).

Just so y’all know I have about two and half weeks left of this semester. Maybe in the summer time I will be quicker with popping this out (I act like i haven’t been posting everyday). I do plan to slow down a little because I think it’s a lot for me. When I’m writing fanfics in my dreams that means I need to step away. I don’t want to burn myself out too early especially since part of my major is writing. Hopefully no one jumps me for wanting to slow down if I ever do. I’m a people pleaser I will literally walk on hot sand so y’all can wear my flip flops.

But yeah, I have nothing else to really say. I hope no one unfollows me because I posted art but that might be my anxiety trying to scare me into not posting this. Adiós!

[joelsbodypillow]

broken hearts club

[Authors note: idk what I’m doing this is just a random one shot I wrote so it may not be good lol]

warnings here: smutty, cursing, creampie?, Angst

pair: Mccree x reader

It was a cold scene, you were walking back home since your Uber didn’t come as they were supposed to. You were a confident person some people even say intimidating and you hate when your time was being wasted. As you were walking through the snowy pale neighborhood a few light posts lighting up the white street you were mildly scared being out alone at this time of day but you were on a mission to get back to your cozy warm bed and kitten star ‘shit’ you mentally cursed at yourself you forgot to feed him sighing to yourself you walked in defeat the house was two blocks down you considered running the rest of the block but you declined as you opened your door there was a tall figure on the hallway

you squealed loudly enough for the man to look over to you it was your boyfriend Cassidy “shit Cole you almost gave me a heart attack!” You kicked off your wet boots on a nearby shoe rack “didn’t think your partner would get here so soon” He spoke as he stood up lighting a cigar “babe you should stop smoking” he ignored the comment and went to the back porch. You started to get mad Cass has been ignoring you the past few days and your fed up but you let it go for today he was working his ass off this week so you understood to an extent he still treated it like you weren’t even there but you couldn’t hold it in. You thought about the consequences but it didn’t matter as you opened the sliding door a wave of Tobacco hit you

“babe we need to talk.” You spoke as his honey brown eyes trailed over your frame he backed off the wooden railing and stepped over to you “y.you have been treating me different lately and I don’t like it” your gulped as he stood over you “you want to be treated fairly I’m gonna treat you fairly. Get on the railing” he bent your body over the railing his words cold and unwelcoming he tugged ur pants down and played with the fabric white with a red bow it was childish, but he said it made you look innocent “I paid a lot for these damn panties just for them to get ripped up. What a shame”

he looked down at your wet sex “already wet, such a whore” he said in a pitying tone you hated it but loved it at the same time it was humiliating. He pulled the white fabric down stretching the couture his sweatpants not even trying to hide the boner he had you didn’t even notice he was inside of you until the first thrust “Gah~ m.Mccre.e too big” you whined but he didn’t listen he kept assaulting your cunt repeatedly, he groaned loudly, he was close you were already at your high “Oh God.d Mc.cree i-I’m coming!” You moaned “fuck~ yeah keep moaning like that so everyone can know I’m fucking ya’ this good” he encouraged “sh.it Baby I can’t Gah!” His eyes widened with pleasure as he pumped silky white strings of love into you. He looked down huffing at his new piece of art drooling out of you he smirked looking at how he tamed you so easily “let’s clean you up baby” he whispered in your ear “y.yes Mccree” you answered still panting like a bitch in heat.

So this was my first ever fanfic I was just bored honestly hope ya liked

[archandshri]

22nd March ‘24 - [arch] Mad About Munch, Warm-up sketches and daaarknesss???

Good evening, Shri! I forgot that it is Friday, but at the beginning of writing this, I have an hour and 27 minutes until Friday is over, so I WILL be on time!

Wow, like a lot has happened? But I also don’t have tons to show for it. (it’s because I’m working on cool secret project that I’m not allowed to talk about which is fun!)

Stuff i have been doing

Museums :0!!!! I have been travelling and in my old age apparently, I like old art now???

Gathering a lot of reference images - photos, but also general inspiration

Finally organising my digital space a bit! I backed up like 3 years' worth of Procreate images and cleared out half my iPad

Getting some of my sketchbooks, especially comic development, digitised and onto Google Slides! I follow a similar process to when I was at uni still, with a huge PowerPoint for a project that contains reference images, inspiration, plot bullet points, and links to google docs where I write the scripts, development sketches and finals. It makes it super easy to go back to important parts of the development and be reminded of things I might have lost in the development process

Warm-up sketches because you bullied me into it (affectionate)

Continuing to explore colour

2 things I would like to tell you more about: 1) Edvard Munch!!!!!! If you ever get the chance to visit the Munch Museum in Oslo, do it!! I hadn’t seen a whole museum dedicated to one guy before, but seeing so much of his work in one place, in person really helped me understand it better. They also had a fantastic audio tour to rent that made it super accessible. I had just come from thinking about colour last week and becoming more comfortable with darker colours, and I had been thinking about personality and narrative in settings and backgrounds - both of which he does really well. In particular, The Sick Child, Eye in Eye, and The Sun stood out to me.

2) Play. AGAIN!!!!! I feel like I’m constantly having to fight myself, reminding myself to let go, play around, and explore without the expectation of a final outcome. You told me to try some 20 min warm-up and cool-down sketches - which I’ve been doing and has been going great! They’re not all perfect and aren’t supposed to be, but I’ve also had some really fun outcomes that wouldn’t have happened otherwise. I also feel like I’m getting more of a grip on colour :0

Plus, I’ve found that I haven’t wanted to post my terrible sketches or even my better ones?? Which has been nice to make without the need for sharing. However, I have found myself craving a final image to share with all of Tumblr and Instagram, thinking of possible images that would do well on those platforms. I think there is a small part of me that wants to create those because it would be fun, but I think it’s mostly to fix the number-shaped hole :/ Hank Green made a good video which mentioned the fact that platforms are EXTRA BAD with teaching creators to be addicted to them, even more so than consumers. Video here. It’s good.

I was listening to the Imp and Skizz podcast earlier (Episode - Rendog pt 1), it’s a great podcast, they chat about Hermitcraft a bit but mostly about what being alive is like and being a creator, I really recommend them too. Anyway, Skizz said he was once told to ‘create videos that he wanted to watch.’ And I think it’s a good approach to have when creating. What do I wanna see/ read?

I would love to chat to you about the balance between dark tones and silliness in storytelling too, but it is 11pm and I do have to get up early tomorrow. Plus, I’m not sure I have enough thoughts yet. But for now, it’s left me thinking: what do I want to make? Am I campable of silliness in stories? I want to tell stories with an undertone of darkness, that discusses difficult themes, but how to we do that while keeping it entertaining and not just Too Much(™)?

I dunno, just thoughts I’ve been having. I wanna get them down, even if I don’t have any solutions yet. In the meantime, please accept these sketchbook pages in lieu of philosophical answers. 

Thank you for listening to my rambles once again!

Love <3 Archie

Ps. I saw Frozen the musical and it was Very Sibling, and I cried. It made me think of you and I think you would like it (it’s only a bit different to the film but it makes such a difference omg)

[shit-enmu-says]

🔹Shit Enmu Says🔹

Note: This was originally intended to be just an Enmu and Demon Slayer appreciation blog but has now become an RP blog as well. With this taken into consideration, I’ve taken it upon myself to lay down some ground rules

Introduction

I am the mun. You can call me Erik. Pronouns are he/him exclusively and I am 21+. I’ve been RPing outside of Tumblr in various fandoms for several years with friends. I had a brief stint RPing Tumblr in other fandoms as well. Now I’m back because inspiration struck.

Rules

If you are under 18 or I suspect you are I will block you. There’s NSFW or darker themes on this block. Minors do NOT interact.

Non-RP blogs can send asks

I will not RP with anyone under 18

Plot with me! Seriously. If you have an idea for a thread just message me. I like planning stuff like this out

I am an employed adult living independently and may return to college soon. That being said, there will probably be periods of inactivity or it may take a while to answer asks or messages.

I have unmedicated ADHD. I tend to be scattered and forget things. Sometimes it takes me a while to articulate a response so if I do, it’s nothing personal.

OC RP blogs are definitely okay, though I would like to know some background information on your OC first because it’s interesting and makes things flow more easily

There are certain things I won’t RP like noncon or romantic/sexual plot lines with underage muses

Portrayal and Verses

I have canon and non canon verses going on. All will have their respective tags in the future

There’s demon Enmu from the original series, possibly his incarnation from Kimetsu no Gakuen

I also have a great deal of speculation about his life before he became a demon. This one is canon divergent but keeps what we know about his human life intact, just expanded upon. There’s a separate verse for this incarnation of him.

May have modern AU take on him as wellbeing

My Tags (possibly subject to change)

#dreamingofqueue - self explanatory. That’s the cue.

#shitenmusays - Enmu related in-character posts

#relevant - just random stuff that seems relevant to my muse

#shitmunsays; #munspeaks; #personal; #notshitenmusays - self explanatory

#dontletyourmemesbedreams - memes that are a little too fitting

#phantasmagoria - something that was originally supposed to be a quick one shot about how Enmu became a demon but then it kind of grew.

Other

I may post small samples of my own writing, perhaps links to actual fanfics if I ever get the guts to post my writing on A03. Those will have their own tag once I think of one.

I draw as well and am learning digital art! Sone of that will be posted here. Some already has been.

Anything untagged was most likely intended for my other blog but my hand slipped. Or I forgot.

I have an OC or two as well. If I ever post anything on them, they’ll get their own tag

[vivi-in-the-sky-with-diamonds]

Where Heart Doth Hop

(Source)

In which you help three of four boys practice a certain Shakespearean performance.

Apologies once again for no posts. It's raining a lot here and the only internet I have is my hotspot and my data gets really slow when it rains. Finally finished reinstalling Windows 10 but now I have to reinstall Word with my slow ass internet >.> since my masterlist is a page and can only be accessed for editing on web (and since my internet is an actual ass), this one might not be there for a bit, but that's why we make master tags lol.

Like I said before, originally written for my Beatles dr but I honestly liked it too much to not post it. This isn't a direct manuscript of this performance, but it's pretty damn close. The audio on that performance (or at least the upload I've seen) was kinda bad, and the audience was super loud (understandably so) so some lines are directly from the original play or just referenced from an outside POV. I watched the performance and read the scene from the play several times while writing this to make it as accurate as possible. It's never explicitly stated where John is (I think at one point, I decided in my head, he was on a date or something), so you can choose your own adventure on that.

Proofed in UK English (probably). Checked with a random TTS website to triple-check for typos and me forgetting to change the person. Sorry I'm posting this at 3 AM, I procrastinated by sleeping all day (it was raining, I couldn't help it!) and then playing the Sims Medieval for an ungodly amount of time. Please excuse my sorry excuse for a name for this one, it's my favorite line and I couldn't come up with anything better. Enjoy!

“Y/N, can you help me with this?” Paul asks when he comes into the sitting room.

“Of course, love, what is it?” you reply.

“Well, we’re supposed to perform this Shakespeare thing and the lads and I wanna run through it, but, well…” He gestures toward George and Rich, noting the lack of John.

“Oh, I can do John’s lines,” you volunteer. “Which character?”

“Okay, you’ll be Thisbe.” He hands you what you assume is John’s copy of the script. “I guess we’ll pretend the coffee table is Wall.”

George and Rich stand back, Paul guiding you to do the same.

“O, I fear my Thisbe’s promise is forgot!” he begins. “And thou, o wall, o sweet and lovely wall, that stands between her father’s ground and mine! Thou, o wall, o sweet and lovely wall, show me thy chink, to blink through with mine eye— But what see I? No Thisbe do I see! O wicked wall, cursed be thy stones for deceiving me!”

He pretends to beat up whatever poor soul plays Wall before addressing the audience about Thisbe’s cue.

You walk to the table and clear your throat. “O wall, full often hast thou heard my moans for parting my fair Pyramus and me! My cherry lips have often kissed thy stones—”

As you continue your line, Paul addresses the audience again before standing across from you. “Thisbe!” he sings. “Thisbe!”

“What?!” you reply in fake annoyance. “My love thou art, my love I think.”

“Meet me at Ninny’s tomb straightaway.”

“Ninny’s tomb; is that still open?” You're trying your hardest not to laugh at the line as you both step back, allowing George and Rich to take their places in front.

“You ladies,” starts Rich. “You who fears the smallest monstrous mouse that walks the floor may now perchance both quake and tremble here, when lion rough in wildest rage doth roar!”

You and Paul nearly dissolve into giggles at Ritchie’s tiny roar before he continues, “And know that I one Ringo the drummer am, for if I was really a lion, I wouldn’t be makin’ all the money I am today, would I?”

He steps back, leaving George alone. You can tell George is having trouble with not having the hecklers' lines practiced, because he’s pure frustrated by the time he gets to, “Look, you, all I have to say is to tell you that this lantern is the moon, you see. I’m the man in the moon. This thorn bush here is my thorn bush, and this doggy-woggy here is my dog.”

You step forward. “So, this is old Ninny’s tomb. George, do you need something to hold in place of a lantern?”

George, with his arm suspended above your head, answers, “It’s fine. Keep goin'.”

“Right.” You feign knocking on the door before opening it. “But where is my love?”

Ritchie pops up in front of you with another roar; you scream, and he begins chasing you round the room before you end in what would be the background.

According to the script, you're—or rather John is—meant to drop a mantle, so you drop your handkerchief on the way back.

“Sweet moon,” says Paul, “I thank thee for thy sunny beams.”

As he begins another sentence, George shakes his head and gestures toward your fallen handkerchief.

“Hello, hello, hello, what’s this?” He begins his line as he picks up the fabric. “Eyes, do you see; how can it be? What dreadful dole is here! Thy mantle good, all covered in blood—” his accent makes the words rhyme, “—o dainty duck, o dear! Come, tears, confound! Out, sword, and wound—” he pulls an imaginary sword from its hilt “—the pap of Pyramus; that left pap where heart doth hop!”

You stare at him in adoration as he speaks, though you don’t think he notices, as he continues, “Thus die I, thus, thus, thus. Now am I dead, now am I fled. Oh, well, you can’t win ‘em all. Tongue, lose thy light, Moon, take thy flight. See ya, George.”

George exits the “stage” as Paul begins fake stabbing himself. “Now, die, die, die, die, die!”

You skip in, humming a tune, and kneel next to him. “Asleep, my love?”

“Die, die, die!” he continues, still stabbing.

“What, dead, my dove?” You begin shaking him as you continue, “Pyramus, arise! O, speak, speak! Quite dumb. Dead, a tomb must cover thy sweet eyes. Those lily lips, his cherry nose, those yellow cowslip cheeks are gone, are gone. Lovers, make moan. His eyes were green as leeks.”

Paul is trying not to laugh as you say, “Tongue, not a word, not a word. Shut up!” You move to sit instead of kneeling. “Not a word. Come, trusty sword. Come, blade, my breast imbrue.”

You stab yourself with Paul’s imaginary blade before saying, “And, farewell, friends; thus Thisbe ends. Adieu, adieu, adieu!”

You and Paul take hands and lie backwards together as he says the line with you.

You're both laughing by the time you stand up.

“Right, I think that was good. Lads?” Paul looks to the other two for confirmation.

They both nod and Rich says, “I like her better than John. She takes the role seriously.”

[floweroflaurelin]

I'm sorry if this is rude, and you totally don't have to answer this if you don't want to, but i'm curious - why in the world are you using the name "flower of Laurelin" for a as far as i can tell 100% mcyt art blog? Like, no judgement or anything, but it just genuinely throws me for a loop every single time lmao

Hahahaha!

So I made this blog back in 2018? I think? And I had every intention of making it a Silmarillion blog. I made a lot of Silm art just for me while I was a teenager and I actually still make Silm art for school projects! I called myself Flower of Laurelin because Arien, the Maia who carries the sun, is my favourite character in the whole Tolkienverse. (She has one whole paragraph talking about her.)

Also in 2018, both The Dragon Prince and She Ra and the Princesses of Power started airing on Netflix and took over my whole brain and I instead started painting fanart for those two shows and posting it here, and they were all fairly popular paintings. This was during the gap year I took before heading to university in 2019 and it really helped me develop my art style! I realized that since my style is more like realism I could adapt cartoons in a really fun and fresh way. And I was always like oh well I’ll get to the Silmarillion stuff soon… And then I went to university and did Illustration projects on the Silmarillion, as I’d always planned to do, and I completely forgot my Tumblr art blog, which was very infrequently posted to until 2021.

Then when I was in university I started getting excited about Minecraft’s updates because I hadn’t played since 1.13 and cool things were coming up and so I typed “Minecraft” into YouTube and found Pixlriffs’ Survival Guide. And then I got into Hermitcraft bc Mumbo and Iskall would show up in the recommended. And then Pix joined Empires I got into the whole Empires crew, and by then I was getting burnt out of never making art just for me and only for assignments and I took an hour out to sketch the Copper King during class, which I posted, and people liked it! And Pixlriffs himself emailed me that same day to say how much he liked it! And then I was like okay well there’s a niche here—there’s little more cartoony than a Minecraft skin so my style would work great here, and wow it turns out there are a lot of people into this too! A lot of other awesome artists! And my work got more and more attention until I got to work with the CCs on their series and now I’m a mcyt blog.

TLDR; I was supposed to be a Silmarillion blog because I used to make a lot of Silmarillion art, but in the time since making my URL I ended up getting into other fandoms instead by accident! And now I’m a mcyt blog even though I’ve kept my original URL because I like it a lot 😋