man whatever... cant even ride elevators anymore

JBB: An Artblog!
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almost home
Claire Keane
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
$LAYYYTER

oozey mess

shark vs the universe

❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
TVSTRANGERTHINGS
One Nice Bug Per Day
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
wallacepolsom

Product Placement
dirt enthusiast

⁂

Kaledo Art
sheepfilms

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he wasn't even looking at me and he found me

seen from United States

seen from Canada
seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from United States
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seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from United States
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seen from Singapore
seen from Germany

seen from United States

seen from Türkiye
@alastrpt
man whatever... cant even ride elevators anymore
Taglist: @jozzieblood @ravennaortiz @winterklls @death-in-a-tar0t-card @bagpipes606 @mrs-mischief1917 @ghostlytraitortale @berriblissful @bagofrice @cantbecreative @straw--b3rry @agustdeeyaa @notlikeothernerds @star-maker-rain-dancer @storminat3acup @zamadness
TW: Dudes ... it's literally hell!, Canon typical violence, dark theme's, some canon typical religious overtones, s£x work, abuse, drug use, blood, alcohol consumption, guilt, fish out of water.
Part 9 | Part 11
DISORIENTATED ♣️🃏 P.10
The bathroom mirror is less confrontational than it used to be. You've gotten better at looking at your reflection without that immediate jolt of wrongness, though you're not sure if that's progress or just resignation. The pastel pink skin, the snakes that serve as hair, the glowing heart-shaped pupils—they're you now, whether you like it or not.
You carefully unwrap the bandages from your fingers, working at the knots Husk tied with such precision. The white gauze falls away in strips, pooling in the sink, and you hold your hand up to examine the damage.
Thin white lines cross your fingertips where Valentino's claws had cut—scars that are barely visible against your pink skin. You flex your fingers experimentally, relieved when there's no pain, just a slight tightness that suggests healing. It's been a while since that night at the club, and your demonic physiology has proven to be surprisingly efficient at recovery.
🍒
The music. It was the loudest, most rhythmically brutal assault you could expect from a Hellish nightclub.You were curled up on a leather sofa next to Alastor, the pink and purple neon lights washing over the room. The crowd was a storm of dancing limbs; Angel Dust was a flurry of bright pink, and Cherri Bomb was whipping her ponytail around, a lit dynamite stick held casually in one hand. Husk was sulking by the bar, and Niffty was likely somewhere scrubbing a surprisingly grimy corner.
“[Name],” Alastor’s voice, despite the roaring noise, was distinctly smooth, like an old vinyl record with perfect fidelity.
“You promised me one hour in this wretched establishment. Thirty minutes have passed, and with every passing second, the sliver of joy in my soul diminishes.”You glanced at him. Your relationship with him was based on a strange equilibrium. His condescension remained, but his patience with you was slightly greater than with anyone else at the Hotel. Perhaps it was due to your utility in organizing his radio transcripts. Or perhaps... you dared not think further.
“Alastor, would you stop listening to yourself for a second?” You managed a small smirk. “Yes, I am. I’m listening to the sound of fun. It sounds like fun to me. Meanwhile, you’re brooding in a corner like the oldest demon in Hell.”
“I am no corner brute, dear. I am one who presides over such spectacles. And this spectacle is below mediocre.” Alastor rotated his luminous green eyes toward the dancing masses.
“To endure such low-grade entertainment is, I must confess, rather... disappointing.”
When the waiter demon arrived, you took your drink: a towering, strawberry milkshake crowned with a thick layer of whipped cream and a bright red cherry.
“Well, I found something to occupy myself with,”you said, dipping your straw into the creamy pink liquid.Alastor’s gaze snagged on your drink, his smile widening mockingly. “Ah, that miserable dairy confection. Truly the drink of infants in the Hotel lobby. How primitive.”
The waiter presented Alastor with his order: a heavy crystal glass containing a dark, aged liquid. He dismissed your milkshake and took his drink, sniffing it slowly.“My preference is for the dignified spirits of time. At least this... syrup will make my remaining tenure slightly more tolerable,” he murmured, downing the first glass quickly.
The next fifteen minutes were marked by Alastor finishing his second, then his third glass. With each sip, you noted the subtle shift in his composure. Normally, his grin was flawless—a mask, a perfectly set soundwave.
But now, after the fourth drink, the edges of that smile had begun to slacken. The gleam in his eyes seemed less calculated and more...
dangerous and alive.
“This place is... n-noisy, isn’t it?” Alastor’s voice crackled slightly as he struggled to maintain his usual radio tone. The slight slur was unusual and alarming for such a controlled overlord.“[Name], are you still consuming that sweet, white filth?”You shook your head, pulling the straw slowly from your lips. “Yep. Milkshake. This is my poison.”Alastor leaned slightly forward on the couch.
His eyes were no longer focused on your face, but on your mouth. A cold sensation pooled in your stomach; a drunk Alastor was an unpredictable variable.“Your poison,” Alastor echoed, his voice low and raspy. “You always appear so sweet, [Name]. Just like that beverage. Easily... digestible.”
The Matter of the CherrySeeking to break the tension, you looked down at your glass. The cream was gone. All that remained was the plump, glossy, red cherry.You pinched the cherry with your thumb and index finger, slowly lifting it toward your lips.Just as you prepared to bite into it, a shadow descended upon you suddenly.
Alastor had lunged off the couch with a burst of speed, leaning over your hand. His sharp teeth were dangerously close to your fingers as he snatched the cherry away.
You froze, your eyes wide in surprise. “Hey! That was my cherry!”Alastor straightened, holding the cherry between two fingers.
His grin was no longer loose with drunkenness, but taut with a cunning predatory look. The noise around you ensured no one heard this small scuffle.“Was it indeed?” he asked, his voice a static-laced murmur. He slowly raised the cherry toward his own lips. “Then... come and get it.”You frowned, your eyes fixated on his fingers. You darted forward, intending to snatch the cherry back, but Alastor quickly pulled his hand away at the last second, bringing the cherry close to the corner of his mouth.
“Slow down, darling,” Alastor whispered, his voice now dangerously amused. “Don’t rush the chase.”You braced yourself for a second attempt, your lips slightly parted, ready to claim your prize. It was just a silly game, wasn't it? The antics of a tipsy demon.
But Alastor did not eat the cherry.Instead, holding the cherry right at the edge of his lips, he slammed his mouth onto yours.
You felt the world stop. The loud music, the dancing crowd, the neon lights—everything suddenly fell into a stunned silence.This was not a kiss. This was an ambush.Alastor’s cold lips pressed forcefully against yours; the burning, boozy taste of his lost control, and the sticky sweetness of that cherry. He left the distinct, tart flavor of the missing fruit in your mouth. Your brain lagged, utterly incapable of processing this sudden, wholly unexpected assault. Shock encased your body in an icy grip.
Alastor deepened the kiss for a fraction of a second more, as if drawing power from your immobility. His hands did not cup your face; he simply held his posture, preventing your escape with the sheer leverage of his lean body.
Finally, as you desperately needed air, Alastor pulled back. The flavor of alcohol and cherry lingered on your lips. His green eyes blazed, his grin having shifted entirely into the expression of a true predator.The only sound that escaped your constricted throat was a squeak. You shoved him back, nearly tumbling off the sofa
“What the Hell are you doing?!” you screamed. The sound was a feeble shriek that vanished into the roaring ambient noise.
Alastor merely stood there, smiling with a drunken delight. In the depths of his eyes, an ancient, dangerous amusement shone, pleased at having caught you utterly off guard.Not knowing whether to stay and fight or flee, you stumbled away, quickly scanning the dance floor for Angel Dust.
You just needed to get away from this demon.You turned your back on Alastor and dove into the crowd. Your breath was ragged, your heart hammering like a drum against your ribs.You finally reached Angel Dust, Cherri, and Husk. Angel Dust turned to you cheerily.
“[Name]! Where have you been? Did you lose Alastor? You’re sheet white, honey. Did you see a ghost?”You pressed your hands to your chest.
The taste of the cherry still burned on your lips. You frantically shook your head.“I—I’m fine,” you stammered. Your voice was shaking. “I just... I just need some water.”
You wouldn't mention the cherry. You wouldn't mention the kiss.
I miss you
_Huskxreader_
Husk, when he was an Overlord, reigned in the shadows of Hell. Power, alcohol, and card tables were his world. You, Y/N, were a part of that world; his most trusted face, perhaps his best gambling partner.
When Husk realized the feelings he harbored for you, he immediately branded them a weakness. Overlords didn't fall in love. If they did, they fell from grace.He knew how much he admired you, Y/N. But he was equally certain that you could never truly return the affection of a dark, damned soul like him. This was his guarantee; he wouldn't reveal his feelings, and he would keep you safe.
However, that damned deal arrived, and everything changed.
Alastor. Overnight, the red demon claimed Husk's soul.You confronted Husk in the heat of the moment.
"This must be a joke, Husk! You sold your soul? For what? If this isn't weakness, what is?" you cried, disappointment in your eyes.
Husk panicked. He had to drive you away. Deep in his heart, he cursed himself for losing you, but he channeled that pain into anger."It's none of your damn business, Y/N!" he roared. "Get lost! Go and do whatever you do with your 'precious' morals. You being around me was annoying anyway. I don't want to see you again."
Those words left a wound in your heart. That day, you left without looking back. He was left alone with the pain of your disappointment, far worse than the loss of his soul.Years later,with a shard of hope, you knocked on the door of the Hazbin Hotel.Princess Charlie Morningstar's energetic and cheerful face greeted you.
"Welcome! I'm Charlie!"She gave you a tour. Vaggie watched you suspiciously in the background, while Niffty was busy cleaning imaginary stains on the floor. Charlie began introducing you to the hotel residents:"This is Angel Dust, and this is our..."
Your eyes landed on the grumpy, furry figure sitting behind the bar.
"Husk?" you asked, your voice barely a whisper.Charlie looked at you in surprise. "Yes, he's our bartender! Do you know him?"You slowly shook your head.
"An old... acquaintance." You offered no further explanation.Husk froze the moment he saw you. His gaze met yours, then he immediately returned to wiping his glass. He hid his shock, but his claws tightened around the barware. You started staying at the hotel that day. All communication between you two was strictly necessary.week later, you pulled up a stool at the bar late one night when the hotel had quieted down. Husk was serving the few stragglers; even Sir Pentious was in a corner, seeking inspiration for a new invention."I'd like a drink, Husk," you said.Husk lifted his head. "What'll it be?""The usual whiskey. Neat."He poured the drink and placed it in front of you silently. Angel Dust watched you both with a mischievous smirk from a nearby corner.
"Still drinking the same thing," you noted, your voice flat.Husk shrugged. "What did you expect? Did you think I'd change?"
"I don't know," you replied. "In the old days, at least you were free. Even though it was dangerous, you had honor back then."Those words drew a line of pain across Husk's face. He slammed the glass he was wiping onto the counter."Honor? I was the one who let my honor go. You yelled at me that day, and you were right!" His voice rose. "But what could I do? You didn't love me anyway. What did it matter if I lost my power?"
"I never said whether I loved you or not, Husk," you countered, your voice steady. "But I trusted you. You lost that too."Husk turned his head away in agony. "Get out of here, Y/N."
The argument ended. From that day on, the only communication between you was "Another drink.Charlie organized the Trust Fall activity again to boost the hotel's morale. It was your turn.Everyone lined up behind you to catch you. Husk stood at the back, arms crossed, looking grumpy.Charlie smiled. "Y/N! Before you fall, would you like to say something you love about yourself?"Your eyes met Husk's."I," you said, taking a deep breath.
"I love drinking," a classic dodge.You closed your eyes. You squared your shoulders and let yourself fall backward.Your body plummeted into the void. Suddenly, multiple arms caught you. But the support you felt was incredibly strong. You felt your head resting against that thick, furry shoulder. Husk.
He was the support taking up the most space, determined not to let you fall.For a brief moment, your eyes met.
His face was strained with worry he couldn't show. Then he quickly smoothed his expression and released you.That day, the invisible wall between you cracked slightly.
Months later, the Extermination Day arrived.
Chaos.
Screams.
The sound of Angelic spears. Alastor was laughing in a corner, Vaggie was fighting with her spear, and Sir Pentious was creating explosions with his inventions.Husk was taking cover, firing back with his weapons
. That's when he saw Angel Dust running in a panic. Angel had run outside to rescue one of Sir Pentious's Egg Boi's.Husk rolled his eyes at the foolishness but immediately searched for you.
You, Y/N, were kneeling behind a partially destroyed pillar near the hotel's entrance.
You had taken a hit and were in shock and pain.And he saw it.Three Angelic spears, radiating a deadly light, were descending from the sky, aimed directly at your position.
Husk's eyes shrank in terror. This was his fault. He had pushed you away, but now you were about to lose your soul.
"Y/N! HEY!"
he roared, his voice swallowed by the battle noise.You, in pain and shock, didn't hear him.Husk used all that hidden love and regret as fuel. He threw away all his logic and fear. Spreading his wings to their limit, he ran toward you with reckless abandon.
"Y/N! MOVE! PLEASE!"
Just before the spears struck, Husk's furry body slammed into yours.He shielded your head with one arm, pulling you tight against him with the other, covering you with his body like a shield as you both crashed to the hard ground.
The sound of debris and metal fragments rang in your ears. You felt Husk's weight and the frantic pounding of his heart against you.
Husk lifted his head. His eyes were wide with what looked like tears; the sheer terror of that moment had completely overwhelmed his face.He whispered to you, his voice hoarse, desperate, and trembling
"Are you okay? Are you hurt? God, answer me, please!"
That desperation revealed everything that had been hidden for years.Forgetting your pain, you looked into his eyes. "I'm okay, Husk. You... why are you here?"Husk took a ragged breath of relief. He closed his eyes, leaning his forehead against yours. He hugged you tighter.
"Because... because I ruined everything about how I felt about you," he murmured. "But if I lose you... then I have nothing left."
the thing that hurts me most about husk being sad is how young he looks when he's upset like
he's just a baby. just a sweet little baby guy and i need to kiss his forehead and make him feel better please
Imagine this: You were a good friend with Pendleton when you were alive. This friendship blossomed into love, and tragically, you were murdered. Years pass... you were in Heaven, but you could never find Pendleton. One day, you learn that Pendleton has made it to Heaven, but his name is now Sir Pentious, and you discover his past as a Sinner. You are so excited!!you can finally see your love! Unfortunately, a wave of scalding water washes over you when you learn that Pentious is now in love with a woman named Cherri. You refuse to accept the truth.
just a quick g̶o̶t̶h̶ ̶t̶w̶i̶n̶k̶ human sir pentious page study 🐍
My love.
When we first met
Victoria’s colossal iron roof swallowed the last slivers of the afternoon light. Pendleton was already ill at ease finding himself in this station. In his hand, he held a nickel-plated device he called the 'Next-Generation Observation Indicator,' a triumph he had finally managed to bring back from a distant city to the dim glow of his workshop.
He was sitting next to the window in the train compartment. The view outside was pure chaos: noisy footsteps, the hiss of locomotives coupling the carriages, and, worst of all, a station enveloped in a dense, humid curtain of steam. This fog blurred everything, robbing it of certainty. Pendleton noted that the mist reduced the field of vision by exactly 15^\circ; a frustrating degree of uncertainty.H
e leaned over his notebook. Everything had been calculated: travel time, the ideal rate of rotation speed, the vibration tolerance of the device. Chaos was under control.The train’s first whistle blew. It was a deep, muffled sound, a whisper saying it was time to go. The doors shut with a sharp clang.
The locomotive slowly began to move.Before raising his head from his notebook, Pendleton heard an unexpected rhythm of footsteps echoing off the station's marble floor. They were speeding up. They were erratic. Something is missing from people’s calculations, Pendleton thought, trying to find the margin of error.He peered over his glasses into the thick curtain of steam. That’s when he saw it.
Darting through the mist, a silhouette in a heavy coat, trying to match the speed of the train, emerged. It was a Lady. Her face glistened with sweat, and her eyes were wide with desperation. Clutched tightly in her hand was a bag, likely containing the important parts of her entire life.Pendleton froze. His brain filtered dozens of arguments in a single second
Rational Solution: This is not my problem. Station rules are clear. Interference will disrupt the train's timetable. It is best to ignore this situation.
Social Solution: It will cause people to find me strange. My social clumsiness precedes my physical clumsiness. I will fail.
Physical Solution: The train is now moving at 5 \text{ km/h}. This is too fast for a safe rescue.
Balance and momentum...The cold logic that governed the machine was about to retreat when Pendleton saw that single, momentary spark of hope in Lady's eyes—the one that needed to be caught. It was like waiting for the perfect rotation of a cogwheel, but this time, the stake wasn't his own invention, but the grief of another life.
Oh, dear
Pendleton didn't even understand how the decision was made by himself. No, it wasn't a decision. It was a completely unknown impulse. It was as if, for the first time in his life, an uncalculated piece, one not in the chain of logic, had engaged.Pendleton sprang to his feet. He threw the Observation Indicator aside.
He rushed to the outer door—a door that, in the trains of that era, could still be opened manually.He flung the door open. The passengers on the train were astonished. Many began to watch to see what was happening. Wind and steam rushed into the compartment. The train had now reached a good speed.
"M-madam!" he shouted, his voice coming out in an unexpected, tearing determination. It was as if he were giving instructions for a new steam engine. "Now! Take my hand!"Y/N was running along the edge of the platform in a final, desperate effort. The distance between them—according to Pendleton's calculations, it was insurmountable. 20 \text{ centimetres}... 15 \text{ centimetres}... The shaking of the train compromised Pendleton's balance.
A finger's breadth remained between Y/N’s outstretched hand and Pendleton’s outstretched hand.Y/N, eyes squeezed shut, reached out with all her energy. And she somehow closed that finger's breadth of distance
She grasped Pendleton's hand with the strength of a desperate drowning reflex.Pendleton was surprised the moment he felt Y/N's hand. He hadn't expected this pure, raw power from a woman who looked so delicate.
It was like steel.Ignoring scientific methods, Pendleton pulled with all his might. His muscles strained, his face under his glasses flushed crimson. He was pulling a person, not a machine. And he succeeded.Y/N, heavy coat and bag and all, tumbled in like a sack. Pendleton, affected by the momentum, collided with her against the hard wooden surface of the closed door.Behind them, the door clicked shut.
The outside world, the mist, and the rapidly receding platform were left behind.The two figures lay, breathless, in a chaotic heap on the floor of the train compartment. Pendleton's hand smelled of machine oil, and Y/N's of sweat.After a few seconds of shocking silence—only the rhythmic clattering of the train wheels could be heard—Y/N slowly straightened up. She looked at Pendleton’s face.
Pendleton was still looking back, in a shock that transcended astonishment. His glasses were crooked, his tie loose. He was realizing the utter madness of what he had done.The desperate look in Y/N's eyes was gone. Now, it was replaced by pure, genuine amusement.
"I believe," Y/N said, her voice still breathless but filled with a smile. "That was the best first encounter I've ever had on my train journeys. Thank you, my hero. I am Y/N."
Pendleton slowly straightened up. He adjusted his collar with a stiff movement. He was smiling. It wasn't one of the gloomy, cynical smiles he usually wore. This one carried sincere surprise and a touch of pride."Pendleton," he replied, his voice husky. "Steam power, the weight of your bag, my leverage force... it went against all my calculations. This is a moment of pure disbelief. I- ıt’s a great pleasure to meet you, Y/N. A great p-pleasure."
Suddenly, the attendants arrived and checked on their situation.And the two of them, saved from the smoke-and-speed tension of Victoria Station, responded with laughter to the chaotic introduction created by fate and a moment of madness, in the narrow compartment of the noisy train.
Sir pentious (human) x reader will To be published very soon!!
Okay. I was really impressed by Husk's surprise in this scene. I mean, in a good way... Never mind, just read what I wrote.
"This is life...!" A short, choked laugh escaped Husk’s mouth. It was an ironic joy that came despite the emptiness inside him.
"I'm not going to waste my life working behind a bar!"He took another deep gulp. The whiskey burned his throat as it went down; exactly as he wanted. A warm numbness.Suddenly, the bar's dim lights dramatically faded to illuminate the stage.
That smell of performance that spread through the environment lifted Husk’s spirits.He looked at the surface of the amber liquid in the glass. His own tired reflection, a little blurry, and a little... uncaring.Husk whispered to himself. "A good drink... nobody wants anything from me..."
He turned his back on the entertainment when he noticed a figure perched on the piano on the stage, appearing in the shadows.
A female figure. Her grace and ease on the stage were too much for this filthy bar.Husk,"And a song sung by a beautiful broad. To your health, baby." He raised his glass and drank.
The figure was sitting on the edge of the piano. A fascinating charm, with the demeanor of a predator. She slowly turned. When the spotlight hit her face, Husk’s drunken haze instantly scattered.That familiar, known face, the one bond that could keep him at the hotel...Y/N, in a daring stage costume, was looking at him, carrying a thousand-year-old secret in her eyes. Her smile was both sweet and sharp as a knife..
Husk—The drink in his mouth spurted out. His eyes widened in shock, his entire dream of freedom evaporated. He had escaped the hotel's chaos, but now the chaos had found him.
"Y/N?!"
..
OKAY YOU GOT A NEW FOLLOWER, HEHE. i came to ur blog just recently and i'm already in LOVE. soo, can i request Alastor x Reader in a non established relationship, where like Alastor would only 'behave' himself around reader? the rest is up to you, heh. thanks you very much!!
────۶ৎ gorgeous woman
or... alastor meeting a real angel after agreeing to accompany Charlie to a reunion about the hotel, as it's host !!
warnings : nothing!!
ᐟᐟ ⟢ a/n: ... IS THIS A LIL BIT OUT OF CHARACTER? MAYBE. DO I CARE? NO. the reader is implied to look akin to God's Speaker from episode 2<33
( 🏷 @callme-holly , @johnnycadesslut , @cozm1xxx , @nobleknightmonster )
Contents//Angst, Suspense, happy ending
?
Human Sir pentious x reader
human alastor x reader
|Art is mine♡
My love.
London, 1888. Mr. Pendleton placed a steaming teacup on the table. The dim glow of the oil lamp cast dancing shadows from the complex machinery that filled his workshop.
Peering over his spectacles, he watched Y/N, the only source of warmth besides the fireplace, reading a book.A gentle smile rested on Y/N's face. They were the single perfect order, the only point of serenity in the chaos of Pendleton's world. His drive for invention and constant innovation had isolated him from society, but Y/N had accepted his complicated mind exactly as it was. Next to them, even his infamous "social ineptitude" seemed to melt into a sweet eccentricity."darling." Pendleton said, his voice momentarily smooth.
"The air is cold and the fog is thick. I would much prefer it if you did not venture out today."Y/N lifted their head from the book, their eyes shining with affection. "But Pendleton, I must have a breath of fresh air. Besides, I promised Mrs. Davies I would fetch that special fabric for your new device. And I shall return with your favourite apple tart."Pendleton wrapped his arms around Y/N's shoulders,pulling them close for a soft kiss on the neck.
"Very well. But return before the shadows lengthen. This city... it offers little trust these days."
The whispers of Jack, the bold headlines in the papers, disturbed even Pendleton's peace."I promise, my dear inventor. I shall be back no later than teatime, and certainly before the fear sets in
This was the last promise Y/N would ever keep
Teatime came and went. Pendleton checked his pocket watch, waiting for the apple tart.
With every minute that passed, a cold, unreasonable anxiety grew in his stomach, shoving aside all thoughts of his inventions.An hour later, he shot up with a chilling premonition. He grabbed his coat and fled the workshop, slamming the door behind him and plunging into the misty, damp streets of London.
Mrs. Davies's tailor shop... Pendleton's breath caught in his throat. He ran—a speed he'd forgotten he possessed. His heart beat like a frantic, caged bird against his ribs.He rounded the corner.
He stopped.
Under the flickering light of the streetlamp, right on the pavement outside the tailor shop...Pendleton's world turned crimson.
Y/N was lying there. Bright red blood had spread mercilessly across the grey cobblestones, forming a dark, wet stain.No one was around, only the indifferent hum of London and the cold smell of the wet pavement.That famous, beautiful face... it was utterly pale.Pendleton's throat tightened. At first, he thought it was a trick of the mind. It couldn't be. They were just fetching fabric.He dropped to his knees. His hand trembled as he reached for Y/N’s rapidly cooling one. The instant his skin touched theirs, all his denial shattered.
"Y/N? My love?"
His voice was a harsh whisper. No answer. Those beautiful eyes, which should still have held the light of life, were now glazed and vacant.
"No."
The first tear slid down Pendleton's cheek and landed on Y/N's face. Then another, and another... The tears fell onto the blood-soaked jacket, making the red deepen.Pendleton screamed. He let out a primal, animalistic shriek that tore from his throat—a sound no one heard, no one cared about. His hands clenched. He was trembling.How? Why?All his inventions, all his complex mechanisms and formulas... None of it could reverse this simple, savage reality. Mr. Pendleton could invent no machine that could turn back time.He collapsed onto the ground, embracing Y/N's lifeless body. He wept. He wept until his eyes were dry, until his lungs burned with the sheer agony. When the tears were gone, only those deep, hollow, mournful sounds remained.
Pendleton rose slowly. There was no more denial or shock in his eyes. Only a profound, terrifying resolution.He didn't want anyone. No police, no neighbours. This moment belonged only to them.Struggling to stand, he lifted Y/N’s body into his arms. They weighed next to nothing, always light in his embrace. But now, that very weightlessness felt like the burden of the entire world on Pendleton’s shoulders.
"I will not leave you alone for a single moment," he whispered, his voice rough and broken. "I will give you a worthy end. By my own hands."Carrying Y/N, he walked to the back garden of the workshop. There, beneath the apple tree where they used to share tea and discuss his latest creations, Pendleton took up the spade.The earth was cold, hard.Pendleton dug. Every strike of the spade was a sob. The sound of digging was the sound of his soul fragmenting. As dawn approached, his hands were blistered, his back ached, but he did not stop. This was his final duty.He dug a grave deep enough.Then, gently, with incredible meticulousness, he lowered Y/N’s body into the earth. He had wrapped them in a blanket. You won't be cold. I promise.He covered the soil with his own hands. Slowly, as if afraid to disturb a sleeping lover.When it was done, Pendleton collapsed.
Lying on the newly turned earth beneath the apple tree, Mr. Pendleton was nothing more than a shadow consumed by grief.His eyes burned, but no more tears came. He had none left. The loss of Y/N had drained him of all remaining moisture.On that day in 1888, Mr. Pendleton did not die as an inventor, but as a lover. And all that remained was a cold, cruel ambition fuelled by revenge. The sweet man was gone. All that was left was a restless ghost, his pain hardened into a shell of obsessive insecurity and terrible resolve.
↳ ❝ [Being Human Alastor's S/o] !! ❞
Summary:be the partner of this cannibal knight
Type:Headcanons / Romance / Yandere
Warning:possessiveness, contained jealousy, charm and dangers
══💞══╡°˖✧💌✧˖°╞══💞══
He's a true gentleman.
Honestly, girl, you're lucky that man noticed you… although you know this very well: Alastor may be charming, but he's also obsessive, a yandere through and through.
He's a true male wife. He cooks for you, washes for you, irons for you, and does it with gusto. He doesn't complain, but he doesn't want you to get used to it either; he expects you to make an effort too, for the relationship to reflect the balance he values so much. If you don't know how to cook, he understands, though he can't help but smile tenderly at your attempts.
Imagine this: you cook for him, and even though he knows your food is… let's just say, a biohazard, he eats it anyway just to see you happy. —“W-how delicious, darling.” —“Yay! I'll serve you more!” —“No!… I mean, no, no, we should share it with the neighbors, my love.”
-I think it's an au story..
Caine and Abel were the ones who created the C&A program together. But Caine always stayed in the background, watching as Abel became more loved and admired by everyone. One day, the topic comes up and Caine bursts out, yelling at Abel. However, Abel manages to overpower him in some way, and traps him inside a game — The Amazing Digital Circus.
Inside this game, Caine slowly loses his real-world personality, and his AI persona starts to fully take over.
In this scenario, Y/N is one of Caine’s good friends in real life. But one day, Y/N can no longer see or find him. Time passes… and after Pomni arrives at the Circus, Y/N is pulled in too. At first, Y/N doesn’t recognize Caine at all, but eventually remembers him very clearly.
--alastor x y/n---
Summary: The reader is exhausted and asks Alastor for help, but is met with a surprise.
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You were exhausted. Seriously, just sitting upright on the couch in the Hazbin Hotel’s lounge felt like a miracle. And to make things even more absurd, Alastor was sitting right beside you.Lately, he had been acting strangely. Not his usual brand of strange—something was different.
At one point, curiosity got the better of you, and you had asked him what was going on. For a brief moment, it seemed like he was about to answer… but of course, what did he do instead? He laughed it off. Yet, even in his laughter, there had been something odd—his usual mischievous lilt had wavered, just for a second.
Now, here you both were, sitting side by side on this absurdly large couch, a strangely ironic distance between you. You really, really needed to sleep. Alastor, on the other hand, was calmly reading a book, occasionally mumbling something under his breath, completely absorbed in whatever strange world was unfolding in front of him.You tried to fight it, but your eyelids felt heavier by the second. No use. You had to get to your room before you passed out in the middle of the hallway.Maybe you should ask someone for help.…
Wait. Alastor?
No, no, no. He would definitely make fun of you. But then again…
You hesitantly turned your head to glance at him. He was still reading, though something about the way he flipped through the pages seemed off. Slower than usual. Was he lost in thought?
You weren’t even sure Alastor had those.You reached out and poked his shoulder. He hummed in response, finally acknowledging you."Uhm… could you help me get to my room? I feel like I might fall asleep while walking there, hehe…” You trailed off. “Alastor?"
For a moment, he just sat there, silent. You immediately regretted asking. It was a dumb idea. He was probably about to mock you, so you quickly decided to drop it and get up.
But before you could take a step, you heard the sharp sound of his book snapping shut.Then, he was right beside you."Of course, darling!" he chirped.Relieved, you gave him a small smile and moved to start walking, but before you could even take a step, Alastor grabbed your wrist and gently pulled you back.
You blinked, confused, and turned to face him.His usual playful grin was still there, but something was different.
His eyes… hesitated.And then, before you could question him—He lifted you into his arms.
"A-Alastor!?" you yelped, startled.Alastor didn’t respond immediately. Instead, his eyes closed for a brief moment as he adjusted his grip on you, then he simply started walking.You weren’t sure what was more surprising—the fact that he was carrying you, or the fact that he was doing it so effortlessly, as if you weighed nothing.After a beat of silence, you giggled softly.
The whole situation was just so ridiculous.
"We… we could’ve just taken the elevator, you know?”
"Hmm… perhaps next time," he mused
amusement lacing his tone.Sleep was creeping up on you fast. Your body was warm against his, and the rhythmic motion of his steps was oddly soothing.Your eyelids drooped.A small sigh escaped your lips before your head naturally lolled forward, resting against his chest.
Alastor noticeably stiffened for a second. His ears twitched, his head tilting slightly as he glanced down at you.Your breathing was soft. Calm. Completely at ease in his arms.Something in his expression shifted.
"mmh," he hummed quietly.Without thinking, he adjusted his hold on you, bringing you just a little closer. And then, with a small, almost hesitant motion, he lowered his head and lightly brushed his forehead against yours.
When he finally reached your room, his steps slowed. Carefully, he nudged the door open and stepped inside.He made his way over to the bed, moving deliberately as if afraid of waking you. Slowly, he lowered you onto the mattress, making sure your head rested comfortably against the pillow.With one last motion, he pulled the blanket over you, tucking you in.Then, he took a step back, watching you for a moment.A flicker of something unreadable passed through his gaze before he finally turned toward the door.Without another word, he slipped out, leaving you to your peaceful sleep.--