Death-sama123 - Death-sama123

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Hi everyone I hope you guys like my drawings and I'm new to this app I'm still trying to do things in here so be patient with me

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Sallie May/Striker + Our Tremors AU /eyebrow waggle

send me prompts for mini hazbin hotel and/or helluva boss fics!

A/N: I was going to do something more serious but the idea wasn’t cooperating, so you get this instead. 

“You want us to run?” Sallie May asks, looking from Blitzo to Moxxie and then to Striker. Throughout this whole ordeal, she hasn’t had much faith in either Blitzo or Moxxie, as it seems to be sheer dumb luck that’s gotten them this far. Striker, on the other hand, seems to know what he’s doing, and she can hope he has a better idea. 

“Do you have a better idea?” Blitzo asks, gesturing wide and vaguely around them. “‘Cause we’re kinda running outta fucking options here.” 

“He’s got a point,” Striker says, and Sallie May gapes at him. “Sometimes all that’s left t’do is run.” 

“Y’all can’t be fuckin’ serious,” she groans, pinching at the bridge of her nose. 

“As the plague, darlin’,” Striker says with a grin. “It’ll be fine, trust me.” 

And before she can protest any further, he’s holding a pistol out toward her. “Here. You can take this, if it’ll make you feel any better.” 

Despite the situation, she happily accepts the weapon. “Well, maybe it does. Just a little.” In situations like this, the little things have to count. 

“Good girl,” Striker grins, and gives her hip a pat with the spade of his tail. 

The plan from thereon out is as simple as it sounds: abandon one safe place for another, and make a mad man’s dash across open desert to do it while the things underground are distracted. The distraction won’t last long, and there’s a chance it won’t even work on all the worms, but it’s better than staying in one place and waiting to die. 

Running seems to be working, and it’s a moment of adrenaline that makes Sallie May try to take a crackshot at a dust cloud not too far away. She pulls the trigger, the hammer clicks, and clicks, and clicks. 

When they reach their newest safe space, she all but throws the pistol back at Striker, hitting him in the chest with it. 

“You asshole!” she pants, snarling at him. “There ain’t no bullets in that gun!” 

Striker grins at her, casually twirling the gun about his index finger before holstering it. He winks, using his tail to stroke her cheek teasingly. 

“Gotcha runnin’ though, didn’t it?” 

Adam Lambert chokehold

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