Alastor has found a family and he doesn't intend to let it go, even when shit hits the fan.
(The original copy disappeared sometime before I started putting this back up, so I can't bring back the pure comedy gold that was the old comments, but here...
Dear listeners, we tried to put a picture of Vincent up for you to see, but Management has deleted all pictures of that awful man. To our Management, we have the image above to send to them.
/Jeff's point of view\
I went with the Tim Burton style of trippy nightmare fuel for driving Vincent off the edge of sane. Heather made a special I Love Me jacket to fit over his ugly bat-like wings and Lily made a muzzle that made it impossible for him to speak, but he could still scream.
Lily was very skilled at working leather for muzzles because Lyric chews through them like they're nothing.
Heather has knowledge on how to make the jackets for insane asylums out of just a regular jacket because he has tied very perverted grabby people up in these jackets when he was being paid to do a lap dance for them and they kept grabbing him(asexual prostitute doesn't like to be grabbed, hands off the merchandise).
I decided to do a more twisted version of some trippy art that I did when I was alive, throwing in neons and wide gaping holes for eyes and mouths with colors that made no sense.
The plan was to lock Vincent in a one square foot space with the trippy creepy painting so he would see only that until he goes insane as he wears the jacket and the muzzle.
"It's all done." I said to Lily and Heather, who looked up to find the creepiest haunted abstract art they'd ever seen.
"It's horrifying." Lily muttered as the ghastly scene slowly played out for the first time ever on the canvas.
"That is literally the whole point, Lily. It's supposed to drive the bastard to complete insanity when he's forced to stare at it for too long." I pointed out.
"I think it's beautiful." Heather shrugged, scratching his hairline. "I would totally hang this in my living room."
"Of fucking course you would, you like death and destruction and you are a fucking cannibal." I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose.
"When you're done with this painting, can I have it?" Heather asked.
"Sure, I guess." I shrugged before I went to go get the paint off my hands, face, and clothes. "Is the room ready, Husk?"
"Yep. I just painted it and put the little light over the place where the painting will be hung." Husk muttered, taking a swig of their beer. "I'm surprised I actually managed to get a door on without any instructions whatsoever. That's just out of my skill set. However, the walls are soundproof to the children and Niffty, and the adults can listen to the glorious screams of the asshole some more. Just a little magic trick of my own."
"Spectacular." I complemented them cheerfully as I did a little magic to get the paint off my clothes.
"Thank you, I guess." Husk muttered before they adjusted their suspenders back onto their shoulders and got up. I hung the painting as Lily and Heather put the jacket and muzzle on Vincent before pushing him into the room.
Vincent was locked in and I sat down with a cup of tea in my hand and my long furby, Opium Insomnia Cannibaloatmeal, in my lap as the screams played out, humming to myself as the pale yellow demon screamed in terror of the scene I had created.
Fae came downstairs with Nathan in the crook of his arm and his ears angled straight down.
"Was this really necessary?" Fae asked, gesturing to the tiny room. I shrugged, unfurling my wings as an offer for him to sit next to me. Fae took it, putting Nathan on one side of me and sitting down on the other side. I wrapped my wings around them lovingly.
"I don't know how, but are your feathers and plumage soundproof?" Fae asked.
"Maybe a little." I replied as I sipped my tea. "It helps when I'm panicking and overwhelmed."
Fae hummed in response and started combing my feathers gently. Nathan was cooing at Opium as the furby twitched and spoke in the language of the gods.
"FACK." Opium screamed as soon as Nathan's little hand landed on their body. I flicked the furby after recognizing the strong Boston accent's version of fuck.
"Now, Opium, we don't say that in front of my youngest child. We don't say that in front of any child. No cussing." I scolded the fuzzy creature. Opium mocked me before going back to shrieking in the language of the gods. I raised my hand to hit the furby, but Fae stopped me with a sigh.
"There really isn't any winning with your cursed creation, hun, don't even try. On a different note, I think your flight feathers are replacing themselves so you can fly again."
I thought of something to say before a single word fell out of my mouth: "Neat." I cringed at how the word hung in the air, dear reader, but I could not take it back.
JEFF. I SWEAR TO GOD.
What? What'd I do?
That knock at the door-
Yeah, what about it? You turning into a wuss, Rat?
THAT WAS MANAGEMENT.
Well, they can't kill me, I still have to tell parts of the story.
They will cut off your other horn and clip those pretty blue wings of yours.
Eh. Not before I club them. Which thing are they mad about anyways? Anyways...dear reader, we have a special treat today. An illustration by Rat of Fae and I as cartoon characters.
¡Ay! Esta imagen no sigue nuestras pautas de contenido. Para continuar la publicación, intente quitarla o subir otra.
My wings are not that small in real life, I promise. They're about 10 or twelve feet across both wings when spread. They really are powerful. And about the bright red hoodie that Fae is swimming in, that was my dysphoria hoodie, so I bought it in XXL even though I could fit in a large.
