cacao-snorter
welcome to my sea-like void.
62 posts
Latest Posts by cacao-snorter
Arcane fandom, I’m gonna tell you something:
VIKTOR IS A DISABLED MAN
Shocking, right? You know it already, right?
Then do NOT draw/write Viktor unless you actually want to draw/write a disabled man. This is not a negotiable aspect of his character, the same way Jayce being latino or Mel being black are non-negotiable.
If you do not want to write/draw a disabled character with all that it entails, you don’t actually want to draw and write Viktor.
And no, it’s not enough to draw the braces and cane like they are props or decorations, you need to have at least a vague understanding of what they are for and how his body works. If you are not willing to ask questions or do at least some basic research, write about a different character.
I am TIRED of your sports AU where he’s either able-bodied or you pretend he’s disabled but he still performs tasks that would be impossible for his actual canon disability. I am TIRED of your NSFW fanarts where his back is bent in ways that would be hard to achieve even for a very flexible able-bodied person.
I’m not saying your Viktor/Jayvik stories need to be about disability, but they need to be about a disabled man. This means respecting his body and representing it truthfully with its limitations. Which might mean that certain plots/tropes will not work for him.
If Viktor being disabled gets in the way of your story or your fantasy, either change your story or use a different character. And please ask yourself why you wanted to put him in situations incompatible with his disability in the first place.
I’ll never be the one to point fingers and call people ableist if they’ve made a mistake in the past. I just ask you guys to do better in the future and treat Viktor’s identity as a disabled man with the due respect.
lil doodle from the other day born out of an overwhelming annoyance that for some reason body hair is associated with masculinity despite Everyone Having It. so why not draw a cute hairy girl about it
[image description: a drawing of a tan-skinned woman with brown and blond dyed hair pulled into a ponytail and copious body hair and stubble. she is smiling and doing a peace sign gesture with her hand. next to her is text saying "body hair has no gender!" end id]
I'm still not okay after reading the Playlist for When Your Boyfriend Stops Breathing by @sunsetplums, still listening to the playlist too ˙◠˙ p.s. Birb’s name is Mango, she used to live with the fic’s author but passed away just a couple days ago so now Jayce is looking after her. Faint music on the bg is My děti ze stanice Bullerbyn by Květy
People don't actually grow out of their emo phases. People are forced out of their emo phases by employers who get a raging boner over controlling how their employees dress, cut their hair, whether they mod their bodies and so on
real shit
One thing I find hilarious is that people forget that Jayce had proof of magic. That man experienced a miracle and spent his life seeking out how to recreate it. How to bring magic to the people. It was all based in proof, experience.
Viktor was the one working based on belief, in himself, and in Jayce. Viktor came at Hextech simply on faith.
And yet, when people write fic, Viktor is basically the one who lacks whimsy. Who lacks wonder. Who works entirely on empirical evidence. Like only Jayce is allowed to be awed or curious about the unknown.
Who....who are you talking about right now?
My good people, Viktor is reserved but whimsical af. That man saw a giant salamander in a cave as a child and made it his bestie. That man gets asked if something is safe and cringes or shrugs with an "Of course not." That man heard "magic" and went "fuck yeah lets go".
Viktor isn't cold, emotionally, or to the wonder in the world. So, stop it. Give him back his whimsy.
IT'S TIME! The Far-Fetched Animated Pilot Kickstarter has officially LAUNCHED! To kick things off, here's a first look at our fully animated series opening!
Consider donating, spread the word, and help us bring this beast to life!
lesbians 🔥🙏
This is Temperence and Pivver and they’re girlfriends :)
Temperence Fosner
small trypophobia warning
hiii i hope it’s okay to add my oc to this lore.
This is Temperence Fosner. Coming from a broken family after they birthed three children with an extremely rare condition. A bad case of the holes. Isolated her whole life, and zoo animal treatment from the community has made her develop a hard shell around her feelings. Now coming off as bored, monotone, crabby, and maybe a little elegant.
Assassinates government officials of the island she lives on in the dead of night. Absolutely no trace of them the next day. The holes in her skin hold electricity, something she’s used to dabble in concepts of puppets and resurrection. Using brain cells from her victims to bring her little creations to life.
Omg my blanket was cooking near the vent and I just threw it over my cold ass legs agjfneoosle it’s so nice
hazbin headcanons
my headcanons for hazbin hotel
tw for murder, manipulation, suicide, and corruption.
Charlie
-Cannot drink energy drinks. It will ruin her for the next few weeks. -Doesn’t look like it, but she listens to 90s rap.
-Cares so deeply about sinners and their struggles, but couldn’t care less about imps and their struggles. -Honestly kind of corrupt. Dare I say the sugary and sickly sweet variation of a politician.
Vaggie
-Is actually not Heaven born, and had a life on earth, but because she fit all the requirements to be an exorcist, they let her do it. They don’t let winners be exorcists anymore because they’re “imperfect” like vaggie was.
-Was verbally abused by Adam.
-Actually does still have an angel form of a moth, it’s just very subtle.
-Charlie tends to glow a lot, and moths are attracted to light.
-Is going to enter a villain arc after being in a toxic relationship with Charlie for so long.
-Very good friends with Husker. They bonded over hating alastor and pull pranks on him. Sometimes when Alastor has a moment, he lays down on the ground. When this happens, vaggie and husk poke him with a stick repeatedly.
Angel Dust
-A very complicated person. Doesn’t exactly fall into a category of person, and is instead just all over.
-Secretly a massive metal head. -His feet hurt from walking in heels constantly. -Horrified of spiders
-is occasionally possessed by the spirit of bigotry, causing him to say something like “GOD TOLD ME TO WIPE THE HOMOSEXUALS OFF OF MURRICA!1!1!1” in a really deep southern accent. He will then go back to normal and talk about how scary that was.
Alastor
-His father took his own life in front of Alastor when he was only 3
-He perceived Roo as an imaginary friend when he was alive. When he was a child-teen, Roo would manipulate him into killing people for her. Which doesn’t excuse it at all, btw. -Thinks he can fight hygiene.
-His name was Alexander when he was alive.
-He was an edgy teenager who would follow the stereotypical teen thing where you go up to your room and thrash to heavy metal when you’re upset. However, because heavy metal and thrashing weren’t really a thing at the time, he would go up to his room and tap dance in anger. He would plant bombs under people’s cars during Halloween and called himself “The Alligator” unironically as some type of street name.
Husker
-Chews up Alastor’s medication.
-Had some issues with his mother that led to him being the way he is. -Tired of living.
-Can build a tank engine from scratch. -catnip gives him headaches
-He’s actually chubby
Niffty
-Head is usually empty
-Lobotomized.
-Was married to Vox in the 50s. She was too emotional for his liking, so he had her lobotomized. But the lobotomy only made her violent. So he stabbed her 3 times with a screwdriver and dragged her dying self to a deep puddle of mud and threw her in the puddle to drown. This caused her need to keep everything clean. She only subconsciously realizes that.
I don’t have any sir pentious headcanons rn. I hope you liked the ones I have :)
Achess, We All Fall Down.
A fanfiction about Alastor and his daughter:
TW for Alastor being dismissive, an abusive parent, and honestly just shitty.
“Pa- pa I can’t breath-“
“Oh quiet.”
Her father’s coat should’ve been loose.
He was much taller than her.
So why wasn’t it big on her?
Well, it was, everywhere except the waist. Her father had a weirdly proportioned body. His waist was so thin, you’d wonder how he swallowed food.
Compared to his daughter’s normal waist. So naturally, she was struggling to breath.
This was Achess. A unique, (and debatably ugly) way of spelling “Ashes”. No, it couldn’t be Ash, or Ashley, or Ayesha. It had to be Achess.
The entire cannibal town calls her “Ache” or “Headache”. Or if they’re feeling very fancy, “Miss Headache” was their go-to.
Even her father calls her Ache from time to time. Hm.
She got the nickname from being the Radio Demon’s embarrassing headache of a daughter.
Always causing trouble, and hanging out with the working class imps. Maybe it was the wrathian blood in her, hanging out with the muscle of hell, it must’ve made her think she was one of them. That’s what everyone in Pentagram City thought.
Her father, the Radio Demon, AKA, Alastor, tried to shelter her to the maximum. Choosing all of her clothes, not letting her make any friends, and god forbid having access to the brain rotting, evil internet.
She wasn’t allowed outside of the basement for the first 5 years of her life. It was torture. And even after, he would throw her into the basement as punishment. He only stopped once throwing her down the stairs caused her a ton of injuries. Shockingly, throwing a child down a staircase is actually not good for them.
At one point, she just kinda snapped. Started coming home late, participating in the small, meaningless yet unbelievably dangerous hell fights.
Actually, maybe they could be classified as wars. Who knows?
Well now Ache was 15, turning 16. Alastor wanted to have a dad and daughter day for her 16th birthday. He made her dress up in a black variation of his regular red coat. Of course she can’t fit in it. She struggles and grunts.
“Pretending like you’re dying isn’t going to make me take it off.”
She continues to struggle, ‘waisting’ Alastor’s time.
Angry, big black eyes look up at him. “Why can’t you just let me wear the dress you bought?!”
“It looks horrible on you!”
It didn’t actually look that bad. Alastor just didn’t like the way she looked in it. The red dress and wide brimmed hat made her look too much like…
…too much like Rosie. And he never really learned how to cope with her death.
She would’ve still been here if it weren’t for that disgusting imp she called her “current husband”. He found him, butt naked on top of a car, drunk off of his ass in the middle of daylight, snuggling a dead body. It was nothing new for Hell, but god, Alastor had no clue what Rosie saw in that man.
Alastor brushed out Ache’s usually messy hair, and put a bow over her head to hide what’s left of her snipped imp horns. Her big black eyes stare at the floor in defeat, her arms folded over her chest. Ache didn’t like Alastor touching her hair. It was the only thing she had control over. She got to cut it as short as she wanted, so she cut it short. It got to be as messy as she wanted, so she kept it messy. It could be as wavy as she wanted, so she waved it to the maximum.
But now suddenly, Alastor was under the impression that he could just… touch it. And style it how he wants. But she doesn’t do anything. She’s already occupied trying to keep from passing out, so she just lets him.
“You look lovely.”
He was finally done. He finally got his grubby little goblin fingers out of her black and white hair.
She doesn’t respond.
“Let’s get going, shall we?” His tone is happy, now that he has his way. He grabs her hand and drags her out of the house. Her head never leaves the ground.
Her invisible weights scream for her to just go lay back down, but that isn’t an option. She has to celebrate her birthday with her annoying and strict father.
Dragging her around Cannibal Town, they pass a massive house. A massive, abandoned house. What looked to be a once beautiful home was now rotting away, copper ceilings with holes in them, likely stolen and sold. Every window was broken, the pile of cobwebs and mold had a lot of house in them.
Every single week, Ache can smell a fresh scent of eggy rotten meat and iron. Every time they walk past it, she asks Alastor what’s up with the place, but he gives her a stern, tired look, with slivers of sadness in it, and doesn’t respond.
It was Rosie’s house. The one she died in. The one that her husband got to take after she died.
God… Alastor hadn’t seen her in months. Her husband got her all drugged up and hooked on all sorts of stuff. He wouldn’t let him talk to her, he was suddenly not allowed in the house.
And then he had been informed that she was gone. She took her own life, piercing her heart with an angelic weapon. He didn’t understand how she couldn’t get out of that relationship. She was so much more powerful than that imp. Maybe she just really loved him, and despite a decaying mental health, couldn’t bare to leave him. Who knows?
It’s not something he’s prepared to talk to Ache about. It’s a personal matter, so he just doesn’t answer.
He spots a tiny little cafe nearby, and drags Ache along. She grunts in frustration. Despite it being quieter than a pin dropping from the other side of the world, everyone nearby seems to pick up on it. Everyone in cannibal town can recognize that grunt. ‘The grunt of Miss Headache when she doesn’t get her way.’ Everyone looks Alastor’s way, with a look of pity. Anxiety would’ve stormed up inside of Ache by now, but she’s grown slightly thicker skin, and chainmail around her heart, so that anxiety slashes felt like paper cuts to her.
Ache was always considered a weight that Alastor had to carry by the public, but if it were up to him, he’d make her a carbon copy of him. But she can’t be that. She can only be Achess.
“ALASTOR!” The voice of an old woman could be heard from across the street.
“WHY DOES YOUR DAUGHTER SOUND LIKE THAT?”
…
Susan. Ugh. Ornery old bitch.
“Y’KNOW KID, WHEN I WAS YOUR AGE, I WAS SLEEPING ON ROCKS, USING MY AUNT’S SKIN AS A BLANKET, AND HONEYCOMB SLICES WERE MY TAMPONS!!-“
“Susan.” Alastor says calmly, across the street.
“WHAT?” “You-“
He sighs.
“-You don’t need to yell..”
“QUIET!” Susan shouts in response.
“SOMEBODY NEEDS TO KNOCK SOME SENSE INTO THAT KID’S HEAD! IF YOU WON’T TEACH HER TO BE POLITE, I WILL!”
“Susan.” He says again. Debatably calmer than the first time.
“FINE, WHATEVER, BUT DON’T COME CRYING TO ME WHEN SHE KILLS YOU IN 30 YEARS!!”
“Susan.”
And with that, she gives an offended look and walks away. God, Ache hated her so much. Clenching her fists in anger. She wished that somebody would just hit that woman with their truck. She unclenches one fist to fidget with her hand by snapping with her pinky finger, something she does when she’s stressed. Actual math goes on in her head of the possibility of Susan getting hit with a truck right now.
As if out of pure luck, she runs out into the street and actually gets run over with a truck. It knocked her over, likely breaking something, and then rolled over her. Susan screams in pain and agony. She sounds like a really old, loud door opening.
Alastor and many other people catch eye of this, but nobody helps, because nobody really likes Susan.
Alastor rushes Ache inside of the cafe he spotted earlier. He quickly finds a table booth to sit down at, while Ache throws herself into the opposite side of it.
What a lucky man Alastor is. He can fit into his clothes and sit down with ease. Instead of suffocating and needing to throw himself into chairs because he can’t sit down correctly.
Only a moment passes by, before both Ache and Alastor start chuckling. Chuckling turned into laughter. And with the help of Ache mentioned that Susan sounded like an old door when screeching, laugher turned into face scrunching, wheezing. Alastor has to keep himself from snorting.
A solid minute goes by, before the laughter stops. It’s followed by a moment of awkward silence.
That might’ve been the first time that Ache had ever laughed about something with her father. Huh.
A menu is put in front of them. Alastor picks it up. He’s not feeling anything fancy today, just coffee, black and bitter, like how he thinks coffee should be.
He hands the menu to Ache when he’s done. Looking through the menu, she finds her favorite desert, cherry pie. She could get a slice of cherry pie for only $5.
“Can I-“
“You are not getting pie.”
“Wha-“
“Sweets don’t make you thinner. You wanna be comfortable in my coats? You need to lay off of the sugar.” He says to his underweight daughter.
Alastor’s implication that she was getting fat makes her immediately cross her arms over her stomach. Her big black eyes stare at her knees, not wanting to look at Alastor and his piercing red gaze. When the waitress comes over and asks the two what they would like to order, they both order black coffee. The waitress then walks away, leaving them alone.
There’s an awkward and upsetting silence. Alastor’s comment really hurt. This was no innocent anxiety slash like the cannibal town community gives her, this was her father. He didn’t slash her, he stabbed her. Chainmail isn’t strong enough to protect you from a stab.
“Deer, it’s criticism. I’m trying to help you.” He says calmly, rubbing lemon juice into the wound. She wonders if maybe she IS fat. She doesn’t really know how to do a sword fight with her own father, so she keeps her sword away and accepts defeat.
“…I know.”
{.~.}
They’re silent when awkwardly drinking their coffee. Ache doesn’t even like the taste of coffee. Too bitter, and it makes her stomach upset. She’s never told Alastor that, because he doesn’t listen. He doesn’t care. There are so many things the two don’t know about each other.
“You don’t talk to me anymore.” Alastor says to Ache, he sounds rather disappointed. She has to hold back from scoffing, or chuckling in disbelief. She looks at him quietly.
Alastor sighs. He knows he shouldn’t keep pushing it, it’s not like she ever responds. He assumes it’s just a teenager thing. He and his father had the same exact relationship when he was a teenager. It was *normal*.
Ache looks down at the brown, almost black substance. She watches the steam float and dance elegantly. An explosion can be heard in the distance. Typical hell stuff. But it was a big explosion. It caused the booth table to shake, knocking the coffee over.
It was headed for Ache’s sleeve. Scorching hot and would ruin her father’s coat. As if by force, she snaps with her pinky finger again. Just as the realization and shock kicked in, the cup stopped just as it was about to pour, and stood back up. Like nothing happened. It was physically impossible for that to happen. And yet, it did. Ache finally processed that. She wasn’t freaked out, more confused.
She sees Alastor starting. “Pa, I don’t know how that happened-“
“How what happened?”
Ache gestures to the coffee. “How it just stood back up before it could fall-“
“The coffee never moved.” Alastor replied calmly.
“…What- yeah it did, from the explosion-“
“What explosion?”
The two stare at each other in silence, before Alastor rolls his eyes and sighs. Now thinking his daughter was ill in the mind.
A now red in the face Ache looks down at her lap.
“I have something for you, dear.” Alastor speaks up.
Ache looks back at Alastor, watching him use his staff to summon a hole in the ground, one of his minions reach their hand up with a box.
It’s a rectangular box. A very skinny rectangle. Standing up, it would be a few inches taller than her.
He pushes the box to her side of the table, carefully. His smile seems somewhat genuine.
He can see her big black eyes looking at him in confusion. “Open it.”
She looks down at the box and takes the lid off.
Inside is a carefully packaged scepter. The head of it is has a checkered black and white pattern. It’s star shaped and has an eye in the middle.
“You’re welcome.” He speaks up, a shit eating grin still on his face.
“Oh.”
“You don’t like it?”
“It’s not that pa… it’s just… I don’t want a staff. I don’t want to be like you..”
His smile doesn’t face, but the joy in his eyes does. “You’re kidding.”
“Pa… it’s-look-“
“I spent good money on it.”
“No.. it looks amazing but-“
“Y’know I was really hoping you’d show a little gratitude since it was custom made for you-“
“Well why didn’t you ask me before doing that?!”
“I can teach you how to use it. Maybe you’ll like it.”
“I don’t think I’m gonna like summoning tendrils to rip people apart with…”
“Y’know what? Fine. You’re grounded.”
She looks at him, slightly shaking her head in disbelief.
“Pa… I’m not like you. I never dreamed of using a powerful staff to hurt people with…”
“So you would prefer to be weak?” Alastor responds aggressively. Before she can even respond, a man kicks the door open, which causes her to jump. He aims a gun at a waiter. “PUT YOUR FUCKING HANDS UP!” He shouts.
A few other guys bust in and do the same thing to other people. Gunshots can be heard.
Guns made of… angelic steel.
“Achess, get down!” Alastor shouts at her. She immediately gets down.
Alastor stands up and summons his black tendrils. He uses them to throw one thug against the wall, but the others point their guns at him.
“You all seem to be having a bad day. Let me make it even worse.” He says, the static in his voice gets even nosier.
But he’s stopped when a bullet is planted in his hand, making him drop his staff, and another in his foot, making him unable to walk.
“…Fuck.” He curses.
He falls over, the thugs corner him. He can feel his big fluffy deer ears push back to his head.
Ache sees the whole thing. Stressed, she’s about to watch the only parental figure she’s ever known die. She wants their guns to be unusable. She wishes they were just toys.
Out of stress, she snaps with her pinky finger again. One of the guys push their gun against Alastor’s head, preparing to pull the trigger.
“STOP!” Ache shouts.
“ACHESS, SHUT THE FUCK UP!” Alastor shouts at her. But she doesn’t. Instead, she tries to crawl out and stand up, but is trapped by the tight suit. After struggling in it enough, she forcefully moves in it and rips it up, finally able to stand up. She can breathe so much better now.
She stands across from the thugs.
They don’t hesitate to try shooting her. But the guy who tries it fails. The gun is supposed to release a bullet, but instead it releases a joke flag that says “Gotcha!” on it. It’s a toy gun.
He looks at his gun. “The fuck…” the guy says.
“BOYS, SHOOT HER!” He tells the other thugs. But they try to shoot her and have the same result. One guy releases a dog’s tennis ball from his gun, and another releases paintballs. The paintball hits her neck. She’s in utter shock, and the thugs are extremely embarrassed.
The thug on the left tries to pull out a pocket knife, but a butter knife comes out of his pockets instead.
Another thug tries to pull out an explosive, but a bath bomb comes out instead.
All of their weapons were literal toys. They weren’t before, but they are now. Embarrassment flows through the entire group of men. She snaps with her pinky once more to test a theory she might have. Moments later, a part of the ceiling cracks and falls on top of all of them. Badly injuring some, and killing others.
The entire cafe is silent.
And then, a waitress starts clapping. More people start clapping, until everybody is clapping.
She’s not used to so much praise. She turns around to find herself face to face with her father.
He is unbelievably crossed.
has anyone realized how FUCKED it is that caine made zooble's room have 3 mirrors in it? when they literally have body dysmorphia? which means zooble is forced to look at themself
also a literal human mannequin like ohhh i bet thats GREAT to look at every day
can we have jax period cramps adventure
I don't think he's ready for that kind of responsibility.
hii Goose
What does 57 mean and why is it in like every ep?
funnie 57 make me go lol
A little teaser for how the Creeped visual novel is going! Hope the quality is okay!
𝒜 𝒱𝒶𝑔𝓊𝑒 𝑀𝑒𝓂𝑜𝓇𝓎
a fic where vox has been reincarnated into an imp
“Oookay, so, the guy we need to kill ding dong ditched our client in middle school, and he wants revenge. How should we go about this?” Blitzø dances around the IMP office, enthusiastic about stealing Moxxie and Millie’s new money to buy a horse with.
Moxxie clears his throat. “We could sneak in through the window, and kill him while he sleeps- OR we could take him out to dinner, put laxatives in his food, and then when he needs to shit, we follow him to the bathroom-“
Blitzø rolls his eyes. “Alright, alright Moxxie, we don’t need your overly complex plans today! Doing this in your smart, sophisticated way isn’t gonna get my dick all the way up!”
“I SAY, WE KIDNAP HIM AND MAKE HIM WATCH ME PLAY MARIO KART FOR 10 HOURS WHILE YOU GUYS BEAT HIM TO DEATH!” Millie canon balls into the conversation.
Moxxie and Blitzø look at Mille with pure concern.
Moxxie eventually speaks up.
“Honey… that’s.. no.”
Millie sighs. “Yeah, you’re right, I’m sorry! I’m just excited!”
“Hey guys, am I allowed to come today, since the newbie probably isn’t coming?” Loona doesn’t even bother to look up at the rest of the gang. Doing who knows what on her phone.
“Sweetie, I’m so sorry, but I’d were sticking to Moxxie’s barely disguised laxative fetish plan, that likely won’t smell great with your EEXXXXCELLANT NOSEEE! You have the best nose, by the way.” Blitzø exclaims, replying to Loona’s request.
Millie looks at the new guy, before looking to Looka. “Hey Loona, maybe you should as the newbie if he wants to come, before- assuming he doesn’t…”
Loona rolls her eyes and slams her phone on the table, the same one her legs are crossed over.
“Hey new guy, are you tagging along?” She asks him quickly.
An imp sits at the left end of the table, looking down at the table. He wears a cyan box over his head, and a black turtleneck. He fidgets with a lighter.
“God Loona, would it kill you to make eye contact with your coworkers every once and awhile?” The new guy asks, obviously annoyed by everything and everyone.
“Dude, just answer the question.” Loona is nearly at her limit with this new guy.
Blitzø calls him Cii. A unique spelling of “sigh”, even know it’s just the Spanish term for “yes” with an extra “I” and wow uniquely spelled names are ugly. The rant you are currently reading right now is Cii’s thoughts. Poor Cii. He has pretty severe amnesia. Knows almost nothing about himself.
“Fine. No, I’m not going on one of your stupid missions.”
“YES!” Loona exclaims.
“Alright bitches! Let’s go kick some ass!” Blitzø has a leadership in his voice.
“YEAHH!” The team replies.
Everyone but Cii. He doesn’t even bother to get up from his chair and go to Loona’s desk. After a solid 15 minutes, he finally stands up. Some material on the desk builds static up in his sleeve, and gives him a faint shock. A surprising one, yet faint.
That’s all it took for a vague memory to come back to him. {*^*} a memory.
Vox chases Valentino through a McMammons play place.
“GET THE FUCK- GET BACK HERE!” Vox shouts at Val.
“NO!” Val says with a big fat smirk on his face.
Vox falls off of the setup, hitting the ground with a thud, hurting his back.
“AAAH, GOD DAMMIT.” Vox turns on his side so that he doesn’t have to keep pressure on his back.
He can see a tall moth man standing above him.
“Now, now, Voxxy~” Val picks Vox up bridal style, and starts carting him out of the McMammons.
Vox crosses his arms in anger, but can’t help but feel fluttery inside. “I am going to fuck you senseless when we get home.” Vox accidentally faintly shocks himself on Val’s fur after sliding around in plastic McMammons slides all day.
Val chuckles. Not saying a thing.
{~_~}
Cii walks through the streets of hell, hands in his pockets. He passes a park bench. A tall, anthro moth sits on it. Cii only really stops when he hears a harmonica melody. The melody is familiar. It’s comforting. The moth man stops when he feels eyes on him.
“Do you want a job?” The moth man asks,
Cii crosses his arms in discomfort. “No, I’m just watching. What’s up with the sad vibe?”
“I lost somebody very important to me a week ago, I miss him dearly.” The moth man replies. “Where are you from, cutie?”
“Who the hell knows?
YA'LL...
______________________________________________________________
I. AM FUCKING. SCREAMINGNREYGHJTRJHKNET 😩😩
Art is not mine! 𝑪𝒓𝒆𝒅𝒊𝒕𝒔 𝒕𝒐 𝑩𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒕𝑹𝒆𝒅𝑨𝒔𝒉 𝒐𝒏 𝑻𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒓!
Edit: WHY IS THIS MY MOST LIKED POST LMFAOOO 💀💀
ꪖꪶꪑꪮᦓꪻ 📻🌹🥀
᥅ꪖᦔ꠸ꪮ᥅ꪮᦓꫀ
(fluff/angst)
It felt like a sunny spring day on earth.
The birds were chirping, and the sky was almost blue. It was hot, but the cool breeze made it feel just right.
The grass was almost green. Butterflies fluttered around. The two lay on a picnic blanket, on an almost green grassy hill.
Alastor was half asleep. The only kind of sleep he had been in for the past 6 months. Rosie was right next to him, smiling, looking up at the almost green trees.
It was an almost perfect day.
Rosie turns to Alastor. “Al.” She whispers.
“Hmmm?” He replies.
“How does your chest wound feel?” Her hushed, almost motherly tone can be heard.
“Numb.” He replies, groggily.
His exorcist wound. The one he got from foolishly charging at Adam, only to be beaten to near death. He’s been fairly anxious, tired, and sleep deprived since then. It was stinging, but now it’s not. Likely a good thing.
Well, Rosie considers it a good thing. It’s really freaking Alastor out.
Rosie smiles. “At least it’s not stinging.”
The world sounds earthly and peaceful when Alastor’s eyes are closed, but the moment he opens them, he’s met with different shades of red, everywhere he looks, unable to catch a break from the mean, taunting color. Disappointment floods his body more than blood ever could, as he looks up at what is almost home.
“I’m just hoping it’s not poisonous, or has some kind of mind eating parasite in it..” Anxiety circles Alastor. What he just said, didn’t sound like an Alastor thing at all.
Rosie frowns. “You’re being paranoid again.”
“I know.” Alastor responds in a tired tone. So much energy has been lost since the fight. Dizziness meets Alastor, so he shuts his eyes, to pretend that his almost perfect day, is a completely perfect day.
His dear “friend” holds his hand, massaging his knuckles.
A new feeling creeps in, but only attacks his heart. Tingly and feeling happy, he can’t put his finger on what this feeling is.
The two hear an explosive go off in the distance. Not even a hint of surprise passes by.
“It would be an almost perfect day… if we weren’t.. well.. here.” Rosie sighs.
Alastor nods. “Mhm..”
Rosie leans her head on his shoulder, and he can’t help but blush. A tired feeling passes by, and he closes his eyes once again.
“I’m so happy for Sir Pentious. So happy for Charlie and her hotel project, so happy for the future patients who could come a little closer to earths beauty by finally meeting Heaven.”
Alastor listens to Rosie’s talking as much as he can. He leans his head into hers.
He really likes the way she sounds. He could almost listen forever.
He listens to the chirping birds and the whistling wind, and the bugs buzzing. “It truly is an almost perfect day, isn’t it?” He finally speaks up.
“Yeah… yeah it is. It really is an almost perfect day.” Rosie replies chuckling.
Alastor feels his whole existence float away from him, as his mind starts to go white and blank. He can’t even feel sad, but instead feels satisfied. At least it ended in a useful way, as he 𝕒𝕝𝕞𝕠𝕤𝕥 survived a poisonous angelic attack.
Rosie continues to talk on.
“I wish every day could be just like this one. Just you, and me, and an almost perfect day. Right Alastor?”
His grip on her hand loosens, as she’s now the only one contributing to their hand holding.
No response could be heard from Alastor.
Maybe he just didn’t hear her.
“…Right… Alastor…?
A panic starts to flood her chest, but she still calmly calls to him.
…
“…Alastor?”
Art of the demon hunter Izzi posted to Viv's portfolio tumblr October 19, 2013.
[source]
One of three storyboard animatics Viv did for practice and posted to her twitter January 26, 2018.
[source]
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