Conceptual art for Lilith, Lamia’s [now deceased] companion/guardian/”sister”/lover???
This jerk would use Lamia as bait to lure victims, or traded her “friend’s” body for favors. She was possibly the hoard leader that kept zombie-Lamia around.

Lamia went from one abusive relationship to another, though The Cat certainly wasn’t an improvement :I

for 

10 months ago · 8 notes

You uh, you got something in your eye there.

Part 1 of “Sweethearts”, where The Cat finds the Facility and establishes a new home.

For 

1 year ago · 3 notes

Somewhere buried deep in The Cat’s chest he dragged from New Orleans are several photos. Some are printed on instagrams, others on nice photo paper. Almost all of them are of The Cat as a Half Dead, sometimes surrounded by other Half Deads with red around their necks. If you find it and ask him about it, he’ll BS a story. Slivers of the truth are embedded in those tales though, but you can never be sure what’s true and what isn’t.
The pictures don’t lie though. Someone had a full un-life down there. Then just left it all behind.
What are these happy photos? Who are these people? And why would anyone give up what looks like the best time a zombie could have?

1 year ago · 4 notes

jinkking:

HWERFFK:NBKNBIRNVDKLNSFV:SDNBLDKS NBSDFNBKLFn

We all need a little more gay zombie in our lives, right Berlin?

1 year ago · 4 notes · Source

Written by , a spontaneous conversation between Percy (Persephone) and Michael (The Cat). Normally she wouldn’t dare do this, but something prompted her today to “sneak up” on him while he was chilling in the Facility’s theater watching old movies by himself.

M: “Nana, what are you doing?” Suspicious, though mildly amused.
P: A gentle swat on the shoulder “Stay still, Maringouin.” claw-tips gently work through his hair, tugging out the hairband, and then a brush moves over his scalp.
M: Das’ awful nice, Nana. 
P: “Shut up.” She continues to brush, decidedly flippant in tone.
M: “Mm. You talk so sweet, cher. Make my heart go all aflutter.”
P: A little snort, and roll of her eyes.
M: “You need somethin’, Nana?”
P: “Do I?” Serene, while she works the brush through his hair.
M: “Everyone wants somethin’, darlin’. C’est la vie.”
P: “And what will you do when you meet the one that doesn’t?” The brush leaves his scalp, and there’s the whisper of silk, as she ties a cobalt ribbon into it.
M: “Ain’t no such person, Nana.” 
P: “Cynical thing, aren’t you?” She dutifully adjusts the bow; before using his hair to tilt his head back, taloned fingertip tapping his nose. “Done.”

The Cat tries to catch her hand, but she’s already moved away, retreating from the room and leaving him to stew on the conversation.

Girl you random. Go check out the original here

1 year ago · 3 notes

Before he was the Cat, before he was Michael, he was just some sad looking 19 year old kid.

Why did you guys ask what Michael looked like alive? WHY? 

Now I feel like the monster :(

1 year ago · 16 notes

This beauty has been festering in my brain for over a month. I had this very clear idea of a composition partly inspired by Cowboy Bebop. It’s meant to be a promotional piece for the group

I seriously want this as a shirt. I can do it too. I want to put it on my Redbubble, buy a shirt or sweatshirt, and wear it constantly.

1 year ago · 17 notes

Oh god, oh lord, oh god.

Why did I draw this?

So let’s erm, uh, take a tour of this disaster, shall we?

Upper left: This is something she-who-will-not-be-named often did for the several years she took over my family’s life. Basically every day there’d be a new set of rules to abide by. They weren’t consistent and they weren’t told to you. You were just supposed to know them. The only thing that tracked between them was whatever made her feel like a special snowflake at that moment. And if you didn’t follow the rules, she’d give you, my father, and my siblings fuckloads of emotional and verbal abuse. The whole time you were walking on eggshells around this woman, edgy and nervous that something would set her off. She danced around physical abuse though (to my knowledge). Otherwise her abuse would’ve been easier to escape from.

I figure The Cat has the same hang-ups. He’ll be fine with something one minute and incredibly pissy about it the next. Especially if it means he’s left out of something he thinks is important.

Upper Middle Left: The Facility has many, um, facilities. Walk in fridges, theaters, incinerators and ovens. Someone pissed The Cat off pretty bad and earned a scorching. Don’t take his armatillado! Also blatant Poe reference that Joe the raven felt the need to comment on somehow (he’s a learned bird!) And Corpse-Eater is none too happy that he’s poked his beak into this page. What are you doing there? This isn’t for you!

Upper Middle Right: ”I’m gorgeous! Why do I hide my neck and face then? Well it’s the style, sugah.” No but actually he’s very uncomfortable with his disfigurement and his dandyism is as much to distract from that as his own taste. 

Upper Right: The Cat’s constant cigar smoking and drinking doesn’t really effect his health (or even his state of mind). Wendigo can repair all the damage anyhow. However he still sometimes coughs up bits of damaged organs as his Wendigo continually fixes him up (and discards the burnt out bits). The coughing is sporadic and is actually rather like a real cat hacking up a hairball. It would be embarrassing, but if he accidentally does it in public, he’ll whip out his dainty hankerchief and pretend like nothing happened.

Lower Left Corner and Lower Right:  Yes, well, hrm. That

THAT is the result of too much imagination folks. Please don’t read into it.

Please don’t read into it.

ANYWAY.

The Cat gets REALLY animalistic when he’s feeding. It borders on sexual drive (though I wouldn’t call it a fetish, more like spillover from his Wendigo’s needs). He’ll play down those needs when in public though you can see little pieces of his rather grotesque inner nature through his sense of humor. He thinks nothing of hurting others or causing pain and suffering. Michael will play up your greatest fantasies to get you in good, then rip off all your limbs and leave you a bleeding stump if he thinks you’re not useful to him anymore. Even worse, he’ll utilize his Wendigo control to cause further suffering and torture when he’s really going at it. His victims don’t last long, but then that last hour of life makes Hell seem like a cakewalk. He gets real rapey and invasive too (as if ripping off all your skin with his teeth wasn’t invasive enough) and though he’s going a little nuts, unless he’s enraged he’ll still be able to communicate. So he talks to his victims. A lot. Treating what he’s doing more like some kind of private party or light makeout session than the brutal torture he’s actually inflicting. 

Basically he’ll fuck with your head big time.

Does he actually rape? Well, no. He doesn’t really have much down there anymore. Doesn’t mean it doesn’t look and feel a lot like rape though. Ugh.

You’d be an idiot to interrupt him at this time. It’s like catching someone masturbating. He’s either gonna verbally tear you a new one or physically tear you a new one. And it will take him another hour or more to calm down after that. He’ll just sit exhausted in his clean room, where his feedings take place. Sometimes licking himself to get the blood off. Afterwards he’ll shake himself off and go clean up. But just don’t cross him anywhere around this time. This is the time when his Wendigo and his own personalities merge fairly closely. And his Wendigo is one sick kitten.

Lower Middle: Michael is taking a nap! And look, there’s his sugarbell being all sweet and protective. Awwwww. 

1 year ago · 11 notes