Im Hating Everything I Write Lately So Here Is Nearly Finished Line Art Of A Cover For My OC Fanfic I

I’m hating everything I write lately so here is nearly finished line art of a cover for my OC fanfic I hope to eventually post ;w;

Nym Update!

HELLO! I’m sorry I’ve literally fallen into the void!

My job recently got bought out so my entire company has been under going changes. And these past couple weeks I’ve been relearning my job and over all it’s been VERY stressful. Needless to say I get off work and I have zero energy to do my hobbies (writing and drawing).

I wanted to give an update that I am not dead but just going to be pretty inactive. Any stories I’m working on will eventually be finished but it’ll probably be a bit before I get that motivation back. I’m sorry <3

In the future I may delve into my other hyper fixations on other fictional men (Alastor is still my babygirl though.). But we will see if I’m brave enough to out my preferences in characters LMAO

Anyways love ya bye~

Delightful Debauchery

[CH.1: When Tainted Souls Meet.]

Human! Alastor x Human! Fem! Reader

[Word Count: 2,844 ]

[Content Warnings: This Ch. is SFW, however, the story will delve into NSFW, So minors are still asked to NOT INTERACT. This story will eventually focus on exploring sex as well as darker themes revolving around Alastor being a serial killer (gore/blood/death). But for this Ch. there isn’t much to warn about!]

Once you allow blood to spill on your hands it’ll become a stain you’ll never wash away. No matter how clean your skin may appear, the etching of your sin will forever follow you. Permeating layers of flesh and seeping into your very soul.

You know you’re damned to an eternity in Hell. It’s something you have come to terms with rather quickly. So, you thought, might as well spend the time you have left on earth however you please. You’ve already sealed your fate, now it’s time to enjoy life amongst the living whilst it lasts.

The sky was clear, allowing the sun to beat down without anything obscuring its rays. Your skin felt sticky as heat weighed heavily in the thick and muggy air. You stood on an unshaded sidewalk, your eyes following the brick and wooden exterior of the building in front of you. A sign outside read in golden lettering ‘Crescent City Radio Station, WWNO 999 on your AM dial!’.

By now you must’ve read that sign a million times, your brain lagging trying to process that you were actually here. The folder you brought with you was being used as a fan, desperately trying to cool yourself off. The mix of the humid heat and anxiety had you teetering on overstimulation.

“C’mon, don’t clam up* now.” You quickened your fanning as the air you created lightly blew your hair back. “You came all this way...”

You continued muttering to yourself as you willed your feet to move from the sidewalk. Taking hesitant steps, you approached the building's front. Your eyes following the ornate etching on the front window. The interior curtains were closed, allowing no sneak peeks inside.

Your gloved fingers twitch over the door handle. After taking one last breath you force your signature smile, a tool you used often. Opening the door, you slowly entered as your eyes swept over the lobby space. The cooler air of the building soothed you as your shoulders relaxed. You stood in the middle of the lobby with curious eyes. Soft music played from a gramophone behind the front desk. The ceiling was high and the space was clean. Arguably, one of the fancier places you’ve seen as of recent.

So enthralled by the interior, you hadn’t noticed the set of eyes burning holes into you as you approached the front desk. As you turned and settled your eyes forward you flinched back as you were met with a cloud of smoke being blown at you. The receptionists' annoyed stare was accompanied by an insincere smile as she ashed her cigarette into the nearby ashtray. “Hm? Oh no I’m still here, love. Mhm, yeah.” She spoke into the phone that was wedged against her ear with her shoulder. “Just a drab dame* waltzed in so it’s nothing important.”

You couldn’t stop your nose from scrunching up as your eyes narrowed down on the seated women. But the receptionist seemed to pay no mind as she belted out a haughty laugh at whatever was said on the other end of the phone. Clearing your throat, you stepped up to the front desk and settled your gloved hands atop the shiny wooden surface. “Excuse me-” you hesitated as the receptionist's sharp glare shot back up to you. “This is actually something important, if you wouldn't mind?” Not like it's your job or anything, you thought to yourself.

You watched as her stare twisted into a sneer directed up to you. “One second, Val.” With a big huff she would drop the phone from her ear and press the mic end against her chest to ‘mute’ it. “Ugh, what do you want? I’m kind of busy here.”

Your gaze remained narrowed but you managed to bring back your smile, albeit tense. “Terribly busy, I can see.”

“Tch. Listen, girlie-“ The phone still in her hand was lifted to point up at you. “Whoever you’re here to see doesn’t have time to talk with fans no matter how important you think it is-“

You interrupted her with a laugh, “Hah! No- I’m not a fan- well, I’m not not a fan-“ you paused trying to stop yourself from tripping over your own words. The rude interaction caught you off guard, with your nerves already being high. “I’m here to discuss the possibility of employment.”

“The station isn’t looking to hire, hun.” The woman stretched her shoulders back with a scoff. “Not to mention all the high pillows* are very busy-“

You glanced past her to the clock on the wall. “Actually, it’s noon.” Your eyes met the womens once more as you softened your expression to match your faux-smile. “I was hoping to speak with Mr. Heartfelt specifically. Based on his broadcasting schedule he should be taking a coffee break right now-“ you saw the concerned and disgusted look on the receptionist's face as she slowly stubbed her cigarette out. “Or so I’ve heard, uhm. Just- Please, at least ask him.”

“Not a fan, huh?” She looked you up and down as she set the phone down on the counter without hanging it up. “If it’s that egg* then I could care less if he's busy or not. So, sure. Especially if it means you'll leave me alone.” She said with a small shrug as she rolled her chair over to an intercom. Bringing the speaker to her ear as she pressed Alastors call button. Waiting only a moment for it to be picked up before she was smirking into the mic, “Mr. Heartfelt~, you have someone here for a meeting with you.”

You bounced nervously on your heels as you tried to listen in on whatever answer she was given. The receptionist's eyes flickered over to you as she held a toothy grin and hummed into the speaker. “Mhmm.” She lifted her free hand up to inspect her nails, idly. “Yeah, no you didn't have this on your calendar, mhm.” You cringed a bit and tried to reach out to her but she just continued speaking into the intercom. “Oh no, she made it very clear she was in fact not a fan.” She gave you a mocking thumbs up.

Your mouth opened in horror as the woman before you barked out a snobby laugh like a small purse dog. Unconsciously, your fingers tensed on the paper folder you were holding. Your head begins to race with anxiety at the fact this wretched woman might have just ruined your first impression.

But you will yourself to take a deep breath as the receptionist hangs the intercom and rolls back to her original spot. Her dark slender fingers picking the phone back up as she waves you off and gestures to the hall at her left. “Fourth door.” Was all she said before turning her attention back to her phone conversation. Despite your annoyance you offered a thank you. To which she groaned in response, “Ugh, dry up*.”

As the receptionist spun in her chair to completely turn her back to you, your smile fell flat. If I do get hired then she’s going to be a problem, you weighed your options as you slowly stepped around the front and down the hall you were directed to.

Anxiety won the battle against annoyance as you felt it's nauseating grip settle back in your chest. You found yourself in front of the fourth door quicker than you would've liked as you nervously inspected it. A beautiful dark wood with a golden plate reading Alastors name. For a moment, as you heard the receptionist bark out another laugh in the lobby, you debated on just leaving. But you thought, what do I have to lose?

Gently knocking your knuckles on the door, you leaned forward to listen for a reply. A muffled ‘Come in.’ was given and you flinched as if you didn’t expect him to answer. Your gloved hands fussed with your clothes and hair. Once you felt somewhat put together you settled your hand on the handle and slowly pushed the door open. Taking a single step over the threshold your eyes glanced across the office that the door opened into. Your smile shining as you began your practiced speech, “I apologize Mr. Heartfelt. I know I’m interrupting your busy schedule- and I must thank you for even giving me a chance to speak with you.” Your words were laced with perfectly crafted faux-confidence. But silence fell between you two as soon as your eyes met Alastors. An ominous chill seemed to fill the already cool office as you felt goosebumps rise on your skin. A feeling consumed both you and Alastor at that very moment, weighing heavy in the air like the humidity outside. But you couldn’t quite put your finger on it- it was an odd queasy feeling that slipped down your throat and settled in your stomach like a hard pill to swallow.

But the instinctual warning you felt in your gut was pushed to the side when you really took in Alastors appearance. Because, by God, everyone knew Alastor for his charming voice and radio persona. But to find out he had the looks to match? Now that had your brain nearly short circuiting. Your eyes ran over him unabashedly. Tan hands, long arms, broad shoulders and a proud chest. Fitted button up beneath a red vest with a perfect black bowtie and rounded glasses that rested atop the bridge of his nose. Though, what really caught your eye was his hair, cut in a style you had never seen before. If you looked closely, between the dark strands you could see the beginning of grays peppering throughout. Really the only physical indication of his age. You had to assume he must be in his forties and yet the man before didn’t look a day over thirty.

Alastor sat behind a large wooden desk with his hands folded together in front of him. His eyes caught yours, forcing your wandering gaze into tense eye contact. Stunned, you watched his eyes crinkle as his neutral smile grew into a grin. The sight of your wide eyes and lightly tinted cheeks was enough to distract him from his own instinctual unease.

You watched as his eyes slowly raked down to your toes before rushing back up. Clearing his throat he pushed his glasses up as he sent a wide smile to you. “Oh, no worries about that, dear. You caught me at a perfect time.” You knew that. “Please, sit.” He gestured a hand to the chair in front of his desk. Keeping his eyes trained on you as you seated yourself. He paid attention to your movements, how you sat and the expression you gave him. “I know Velvette said you were here to inquire about a job? I hope you weren’t misinformed- but we aren’t currently hiring.”

With your ankles crossed you sat with a straight back. Hands fiddling with the edge of the folder as it lay in your lap, your only outward cue of nervousness. “Oh, no, I am aware the radio station wasn’t advertising for workers.” Alastors elbows rested on his desk with clasped hands. His eyes staring into your own with what felt like never-waning intensity. As you swallowed audibly, you swore you saw his smile widen.

“And yet you are still here.” He said amused as his eyes narrowed. He was intrigued and so even though he had no intent on hiring you, he let you continue. “Why is that, Mrs-?”

“Miss.” You corrected before giving your name. “And it’s truly an honor to be meeting you, Mr. Heartfelt-”

He rose a single hand up to stop you, “The pleasure is all mine, dear. But please, Alastor is fine.” He leaned back into his chair as you heard it creak. His eyes darted down to the folder in your hands. “But as you were saying?”

Your eyes shot down to the folder he was staring at. “Oh, yes, well-“ Gently, you slid the folder across the desk towards him. “I’m a writer- researcher- journalist. Whatever you may need I promise I can provide.” As Alastor picked up the folder and opened it you cringed inwardly. Seeing how crinkled it was now from your constant nervous handling of it.

“This is..” His eyes read reports and details about certain events he has already reported on. Scripts for news readings that happened recently, many of which having details he himself hadn’t gotten. But what had his eyes widening was the last bulk of paper all reporting on the string of serial murders that Louisiana has faced within the decade or so.

“It’s my work. As you can see I take my work seriously and I’m able to get details you won’t find anywhere else.”

“How long have you lived here?” There were testimonies from people within the local community, names he recognized. Yet, he didn’t recognize you.

“I arrived here last week.” You lied through your teeth.

His eyes shot up to you as one long finger pointed against your papers. “This was all done within a week?”

“Yes, sir.” You nodded as you began to internally panic. Was the lie too obvious? Usually you're better at this. “For the most part at least. The end which focuses on the Bayou Butcher has been more so a hobby of mine prior to moving here. So some research on that was done previously, I’ll admit.”

You didn’t notice the way his jaw clenched at your words. “Dangerous don’t you think? A sweet belle like you chasing after a killer.”

You laughed, earning a surprised look from Alastor. “I appreciate the concern but I can handle myself.”

His smile grew into a smirk as he stifled a mocking laugh. “I’m sure you can, darling, I’m sure you can...” He sighed deeply as he held the folder up to feign reading it more intently. One hand adjusting his glasses as he hummed. “But against a killer like this? Overestimating in one’s own abilities often leads to an early demise.”

“Underestimating in others will lead to worse.” You replied without skipping a beat.

Quick witted girl, he thought to himself. Such a young thing coming here with such a devastatingly good eye for this. Too bad, too bad.

“Your work is impressive, I’d be a fool to deny that.” He slowly stood from his seat as he slid the closed folder back to you.

You stood up abruptly to match him as you took your folder. “So does that mean-?”

“You’re hired? Heavens no!” He laughed as he rounded the desk and approached you. The height difference between you and him became alarmingly apparent as he stood beside you. Bending at the waist to ghost a hand on the small of your back as he gently ushered your frozen form towards his office door. “I did tell you we aren’t hiring, dear.”

“What- no, wait, Mr. Heartfelt-“ You pushed his hand away from your back and planted your feet. “But you said it was impressive. You read all the details I got- things you never got.”

His lip twitched at the attack to his own work. A bit of malice tainting the sweetness in his tone. “Come back when you have something actually worthwhile, darling. Cause that fancy writing? Ain’t nothin’ special.” For a moment you caught his transatlantic accent drop.

“Worth- WORTHWHILE?! I have connected deaths that the fuzz* haven’t even connected!”

“You’re theorizing. Nothing you have is substantial.”

“What are you expecting?? The killer's identity?” You asked, bewildered by his disregard towards you and your work.

A fire filled those beautiful eyes that looked up at him and he could feel their heat igniting something in him. Lifting one of his hands to rest his fingers over his grinning lips. A poor attempt to hide his amusement. “Yes, actually, that would be something worth my time.”

“Okay, fine.”

“Excuse me?”

“I’ll find the killer's identity. Then you’ll hire me, right?”

He straightened his back, caught off guard. But, who was he to push away a game he was certain he’d win? “Hah! Sure, why not-” He tensed as you yanked your glove off and extended a hand up to him. He raised a brow at it as if he had never seen one before.

“Shake on it. If I come back with honest to God proof of the Butchers identity. You have to hire me.” You narrowed your eyes up to him. “Deal?”

Oh, how fun. His hand took yours, completely enveloping it. “Deal.”

Let the game begin.

And without another word he watched you march out of his office, huffing and puffing. He trailed slowly behind to watch you leave through the front doors. A soft chuckle left him as he leaned against the front desk counter.

When he heard Velvette snicker with him he flinched and snapped his gaze down to her.

“Did you hire the dumb dora*?”

“No-“

“Looks like you wanted to~”

He squinted with a strained smile. “Go home, Velvette. You don’t actually work here.”

1920s Slang Used*

*Clam Up: To become silent suddenly.

*Dame: A woman.

*High Pillow: Person at the top, in charge.

*Egg: A man.

*Dry Up: Shut up, get lost.

*Fuzz: Police.

*Dumb Dora: A foolishly simple or dumb woman.

Credit where credits due!

Art Deco Banners: @/saradika

MDNI Banner: @/cafekitsune

Yellow Star Banner: @/cafekitsune

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@6esiree

What I wouldn’t do to be sandwiched between them 🫠

I desperately wanna join them they're so hot sighhhh....

The urge to disappear from social media again.

I just wanted to say your blog is REALLY pretty :)

;w; what a nice thing to wake up to! Thank you <3 It ain’t nothin’ special but it’s my own little corner lol.