mildewymolars - Tumblr blog

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More of fat!Alastor because I can, and no one can stop me

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My Alastor is a big soft old man, who loves to wine and dine (he's still evil)

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He loves jokes about eyes - the cornea, the better💔

Anyway, here's a drawing of Alastor lazing around shamelessly…

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Just a sketch of hilarious old jerks for the soul

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Don't mind me, just redesigning Hazbin characters.

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Yes.

Use that flat faced weirdo as a table (Vox your old face is showing better put that away)

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how hard i am uninterested in media unless there is a hetero ship to which can be applied feederism/feedism dynamic it's fascinating

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Self indulgent allastor redesigned

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I did it @boss-the-goofball ✨

Here’s Alastor with twink death so severe, he is now cannibal Orson Welles. 🎙️

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how hard i am uninterested in media unless there is a hetero ship to which can be applied feederism/feedism dynamic it's fascinating

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Ran in the same circles they say...👁

(now with continuation)

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Character design (Hilda) + Fanart (Alastor redesign) piece for my Hazbin Hotel fanfic “Even Skeletons Are Scared Of What’s In My Closet”

Hilda will play an important role later on. Right now only the first chapter is available.

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Even Skeletons Are Scared Of What’s Inside My Closet (Hazbin Hotel Fanfic) Chapter 1

Summary:

A classic take on the "Alastor gets summoned by a human" trope. It also includes nostalgic little cliches like weird aunts, the middle child being the "black sheep" of the (rich) family and demons being as bad (but also not) as they seem.

A college student, who’s bored out of their mind, finds their whacky aunt Hilda’s old book of the occult. After that chaos ensues.

(English is not my first language so feel free to point out any grammatical errors)

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As far as my day-to-day existence goes, I think I’ve entered a whole new territory. Two weeks ago, I thought it would be a be a good idea to play around with my aunt Hilda’s ancient book of the occult. As far as weird aunts go, she entered and surpassed new territories before I was even born. This book is a monstrous old thing, heavy as bricks, and suspiciously well-used. Now, I am by no means an expert in the realm of the occult, but I do dabble in it every now and then. Well, two weeks ago, I must’ve dabbled too thoroughly. Spells, musty smells, and, in the end, hell’s bells.

 

At first, everything in that book seemed as I had expected it to. Not too believable. That was until I stumbled upon a few handwritten pages shoved between an explanation of astral projection and the precautions one should take while using Ouija boards. I wasn’t sure whose handwriting it was—definitely not Aunt Hilda’s. On the page, there was what looked like a sketch of the layout of our attic with a messily scribbled egg (?) somewhere behind my grandmother’s old wardrobe. What caught my eye next was this: The words “Turn the dial, but with a smile” were written at the bottom of the page, the ink already fading.

 

Being the nosy person I am, of course, I had to make my way up to the attic as quickly as possible. To my surprise, there was actually something behind that behemoth of a wardrobe. A suitcase. A suitcase that looked like someone had put their blood, sweat, and tears into sealing. Although now all of that tape was dry and brittle, so I did manage to get it open eventually. What lay inside surprised me even more. A radio, from somewhere between the 20s and the 30s, a relic really. A bit dusty, but in good condition. And so, without thinking much of it, I turned that damn dial (with a small, anticipatory smirk).

 

What happened next was…nothing. I almost laughed at myself for getting excited. Still, I decided to stay in the attic for the next 4 hours, sorting through all the other peculiarities stashed away there (who knew Uncle Heinrich used to be an avid fan of African tribal masks?). Then suddenly (at a quarter past midnight, funnily enough), I heard a deafening thump, making me freeze, the hairs on my neck sticking up like wires. It came from the wardrobe. I turned around, slowly, very slowly. Only to see nothing had changed. Of course every good horror movie main character would now whisper, “What was that?” and then, ignoring all obvious signs of alarm, go check out whatever made that noise. Which was sort of, as astonishingly stupid as it may have been, what I did.

 

Of course, I didn’t whisper dramatically; I just edged along the creaking floorboards, muscles tensed, with the initial intention of leaving the wardrobe behind and reaching that sweet promise of safety: the door. That was until I noticed the faint green glow coming from within the gargantuan piece of furniture. What I also noticed was that the pressure on my ears wasn’t solely the result of adrenaline. Apparently, I had somehow blocked out the low, steady hum of static filling the air. Oh, now I was really in for it.

 

Bracing myself, I teetered towards the wardrobe, mentally saying goodbye to Pastor Joe and telling him I should’ve listened. As my hand slowly found a steady grip on one of the carved wooden handles, a wheezing cough almost caused me to jump out of my skin. The door creaked open, and for a moment there was only silence, suffocating silence—the quiet before the storm. To my horror and morbid fascination, a glowing pair of crimson eyes materialized in the pitch-black interior of the wardrobe. By their placement, I could tell whoever or whatever they belonged to was over a foot taller than me. Then a voice rang clear through the silence.

 

“Now, this has not happened in a very long time.”

 

It sounded shockingly human, slightly nasal even, if engulfed in a thick layer of... radio static?

At that point, my shaky breaths had turned into shallow pants.

I could’ve sworn I heard bones cracking as the entity stepped out of the wardrobe and into the dim light provided by the moon and a small window. It was a thing, a man, a creature. Although far from human, I wanted to run or sprint, but something kept me glued to the floor.

The thing was impressively tall, and undeniably repulsive, with what looked like deer ears and a pair of tiny antlers sprouting out of its mop of disheveled curls. Its gaze was cold yet strangely attentive. A huge, malicious grin split its face in half, brimming with razor-sharp, crooked fangs. Now the rest of it was truly something else. A neck of uncomfortable length stuck out from between shoulders that looked oddly narrow. Looking down for a moment, I noticed that the thing was rather fat. Not in a beefy, intimidating way (it was still PLENTY intimidating), though, more leaning towards plain overfed. The creature's stomach jutted out alarmingly, like an inflated balloon, noticeably wider at the bottom. Legs, too long to be those of a human, plumped up in the thigh area. Its arms, which were also uncannily long, looked too thin for its body. For a demon (assuming that’s what it was), the creature was shockingly well dressed. A tattered tailcoat, shirt, waistcoat, and some slacks adorned its form, all at least a size or two too small (especially the waistcoat). Hell, it even had a bow tie. Suddenly, the thing cleared its throat.

 

“Staring at strangers is a little rude, don’t you think?”

The MC, Bartholomew (Barty) Dankworth

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Fat!Alastor in a rather fashionable nightgown

Poor man can’t catch a break 😔

Comments are very welcome!

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(An anatomy study)

Behold, the grinning pustule!

My Alastor redesign on a lazy Sunday morning probably

(He keeps the temperature in his dilapidated wreck of a mansion at a toasty 25 degrees)

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Don’t know if I ship it, but I do want them to have as many scenes together as possible…

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Yeah I think you’re in the right place, Al.