#helluva-hurricane

[hurricane-utah]

My shipping brain is going wild

I will be drawing fanart

#helluva-hurricane #I hate myself #why #why do I do this #I can’t stop thinking about them #tadc #the amazing digital circus #tadc pomni #tadc jax #pomni x jax #jax x pomni

[sonic-neo-archive]

Hello! This is the archive blog of Sonic Neo! This blog will archive posts, art, and updates about Sonic Neo.

My name is Charlie, I am drawing this independently but the writing is done by me and my friend! Links at the bottom!

This au is my own works and is in no relation actually canon! THIS IS A FAN WORK!

Do not read this comic if you averse to the following:

• LGBTQ+

• character self hate

• violence

• swearing

• characters with actual flaws and depth

• not fully relying on canon

Assume all characters are adults unless stated otherwise

Links:

Art blog (where the comic is being uploaded to): https://www.tumblr.com/hurricane-utah

General art archive: https://www.tumblr.com/artistshurricane

Fnaf au archive: https://www.tumblr.com/rise-of-the-king-comic

Main acc (full of reblogs): https://www.tumblr.com/the-sam-program

#sonic the hedgehog #sonic au #SonicNeo #helluva-hurricane

[cassidymayshijinks]

16/07/22

Well, that was crazy. 

I barely got any sleep last night, because I was technically on duty and around 1 in the morning things started to get weird. 

First, it started to rain hard. Roof pounding, city flooding rain. A lot of the animals were getting pretty jumpy, but then one of the water elementals busted out of its enclosure and started lumbering around. Fortunately it didn't break anything, but we didn't notice anything until Jenny, who was comforting a griffin that got startled by the thunder, nearly walked into it. She sounded the alarm, and we all spread out from where Jenny found it to search. Let's just say that trying to find a water elemental, in the dark, in a tropical storm, is not fun. 

We finally managed to track it down and calm it down long enough to get it into a secure enclosure with the help of some treats and a strong sleep spell.

The storm lasted until mid-morning, and we spent the rest of the day cleaning up and fixing everything that had been damaged in the storm. We were all exhausted by the end of the day, especially Habit and the other vets. I'm going to bed right now. 

Cassidy

#hurricane #tropical storm #elemental #water elemental #late night #it makes a helluva story though #journal #cassidymay

[charsawdeath]

Storm will hit us around Wednesday Thursday

I'm at work and it's a monsoon outside, winds picking up

Anyone wanna art trade?

I write though so tell me your ship or what not

#written #my work #ao3 #me #storm #hurricane ian #helluva boss #art trade

[iridiss]

Returning to an old friend, my Cult of the Lamb x Night in the Woods crossover AU to expand on the concept of the relationships between the Bishops and their Witnesses. And also to finally give these characters proper designs! Under the cut is a helluva lot of writing elaborating on these 4’s history with their respective Bishops and their designs.

I’ve played around with the ideas of either having the Witnesses be anthropomorphic in their Eldritch Forms, matching the Follower designs and giving them the same level of autonomy as their minds possess, or to make them more beast-like, closer resembling Leshy/Heket/Shamura’s Eldritch Forms in their wildness, and closer resembling the animals they are. But in the end, I could tell that some characters, like Angus and Beatrice, would be better off beast-like, like a giant hulking bear made of trees and foliage and flowers that tries to crush you, or a crocodilian, Lovecraftian deep-sea “sea monster” that tries to snap you up from the watery depths, additionally as a small nod to the giant animals in Mae’s dreams (the bear and the crocodile.) But characters like Greggory and Lori especially would be more on the slightly anthropomorphic side in their Eldritch forms, with Gregg resembling a large and bloodied hound, and Lori being a mouse with too many eyes and too many slithering tails (as an additional reference to the Rat King or something Eldritch). Lori is still small, even smaller than Mae, but armors herself with a coat of spiders, who are a fundamental part of her attacking style. We’ve got an ancient Forest Lord, a brown bear that’s become one with the trees, a Bloodhound, a Lovecraftian sea monster from the dark Hadal Depths, and a rat that’s become one with the spiders in the attic.

As for their history with their Bishops, let me tell you a story of 4 parts.

——

The Gods were never kind to Angus.

Leshy’s rule was one of chaos, and Angus must’ve been the most orderly and logical person in the entire cult. Leshy believed in raw strength alone, and as a big brown bear, Angus guesses he had potential enough to be “worthy.” What a joke that was. He was the pawn of a child, breaking whatever Leshy threw a fit over. Being an incredibly prideful leader, Leshy made his own rule that none of his Witnesses could see better than him after Narinder’s betrayal robbed him of his eyes. So per Old Faith law, Angus’s sight was removed, completely. He learned to adapt to the viciousness of the wilderness, relying on his other senses to survive and keep himself in Leshy’s good graces. He grew more at home in the woods than he’d ever been before, he memorized how to make flower crowns and weave crafts out of grass. Over the decades, moss grew amongst his fur and dark branches from his head, with Camellia flowers woven into his fur. He may have been afraid of Leshy at first, when he was younger, but now he had grown to be nothing but tired. This was the way things were, this was the irrefutable demand of the universe and the beings that ruled his every breath. He was nothing more than a measly ant. There was no point in fighting it, when Leshy could strike him dead at a moments notice. “This is the way it must be,” he would say to his victims before their inevitable execution, “there is no other option.”

And then another option came in guns blazing, screaming and mowing down the Old Faith like a hurricane on acid. Almost overnight, Leshy was dead, Angus had been beaten, stripped of his power, and thrown into someplace new. Everything had changed.

At first this was every drop worth freaking out over, but…here, the night was serene, the mortals happy and oblivious of any harm, all the screaming had gone away. It was so quiet here.

The truth is, Angus was a gentle giant who’d much rather study the stars than go on bloody crusades. Mae’s new way took some getting used to, but it was worth it. He was cautious at first, not exactly cynical, but he would have been unsurprised the moment “a catch” manifested. He was slow to adjust, having lived his whole life still in one place. But in time, he realized the depths of the scars he bore from Leshy’s destructive rule, everything Leshy had done to him and forced him to do when all he cared for was soft flower petals and damp grass after summer rain. He had his quiet place now. He was finally free.

Helping him get through it, and understanding in his own unique way, was this little obnoxious coyote that Angus…vaguely remembered to be Heket’s Witness? He seemed sweet, sincere, fuzzy, a bit loud, but he understood. Maybe he’d be better off staying here for a while, with Mae, Gregg, all these happy little mortals, and whoever else comes along.

Greggory Lee had a purely militaristic bond with his General, the Goddess Heket. He was her best soldier, her hunting dog. He tracked down the heretics and runaways, and once he found them, he put an end to them, just as Heket commanded. Like a bloodhound to a rabbit, he was loyal. Except, Gregg will always be Gregg, so whenever he was under the impression that Heket was busy or not specifically watching him, he would go to town with whatever chaotic fun he wanted to have that day, consequences be damned. If she was all shout-y serious military business, then he was a wildfire let loose the second her grip loosened. And to a degree he was never fully aware of, his wild antics supported her empire with the sheer fear they instilled on the mortal civilians. At any time, War’s bloodhound could come raging through the village, pillaging whatever he thought was shiny or cool, blowing up whatever was combustible, setting fire to huts and ignorantly letting it spread, and if you opposed the Witness of War himself, you might just get eaten. The chaos was humbling. Gregg was never fully aware of the extent of the damage he caused, it was all good fun for him. That was the job, that was what he was made for, fun. He never quite saw their faces, just ran in, had a good laugh, and left. He was so bored, he might as well do something with his time.

It took a pretty extreme event in order to force him to see the full picture. His first ever doubts started to sink in during the great sheep extinction. The Old Faith had received a prophecy from Shamura: Death was coming. Their only hope to survive would be to kill every last sheep and ram on the continent. Only thing is, there was no way to make this not personal. To track down every last one, to get in their face, make eye contact, see their final moments, hear the screams up-close, feel the bodies go limp in the vulnerable snare of your own bloodied teeth. Becoming the very real version of a child’s worst nightmare, the bogey monster out to get them, was unavoidable. Gregg was…never quite the same, after that.

He was the first to fully and openly accept the death of the Old Faith, immediately embracing the new rule of—well, not exactly The One Who Waits, but Mae was pretty cool. He liked her. As a follower, Gregg is still a bit disaster-prone in the commune, occasionally setting things on fire on accident, but it always sends him into a panic that promptly cleans up whatever mess he makes. He’s a bit of a handful, but he’s incredibly loyal to Mae. He’s doing everything he can to be a good person now.

He had no bond with his Bishop. The only connection he had to the Old Faith was one he’d deeply regret for the rest of his life. Mae on the other hand, all she ever asked of him was to live happily and peacefully in a commune, she never asked him to massacre thousands of innocent souls for something as petty as a rule, or a God’s ego. Death to the Old Faith, he says. Why should he care?

Out of every Witness, Beatrice would have been with her God the longest. Her memories of a mortal childhood had grown fuzzy and distant. Beatrice devoted her whole life and future to Kallamar, giving up everything she had just for him. To her, devotion wasn’t something you did out of joy and love and reverence for your God, devotion was knowing how to survive. This was the way of life, and she would see to it that every last order was followed through with shining marks and perfection. And wherever Kallamar’s cowardice slacked, she would pick up the weight, she would carry his entire Kingdom on her two shoulders alone. This was survival, this was life, this was truth, this was wisdom, this was responsibility, this was reaching the top and staying the best of the best, the Queen of fear and order dictating the helm of an entire Empire crushed under her foot. When this was the brutal truth of reality and life, why would you waste time thinking about a happy merry-go-rainbows imaginary life, when you should be doing your job? She needed this. This was everything.

And then the Gods began to fall. Leshy had died. The ball had dropped. She didn’t know it was possible for a God to die, but sure, Leshy was of the weaker kingdoms. She should have seen it coming a mile away that the youngest runt of the Gods would eventually be snuffed out. But Mae kept going, and then Heket fell. The Goddess of War and Wrath, defeated.

Kallamar’s fears grew worse. The target fell on his back next, and Beatrice knew that sniveling coward couldn’t take the blow. She prepared herself to fight, her time had come, it was her throne to take. She was ready, but for some reason, she was trembling.

And then Kallamar was killed. The other shoe dropped.

Everything that Beatrice had been repressing for decades, maybe even centuries, came back to hit her in the face with a baseball bat. Mae had destroyed everything, and now the responsibility of bringing back the Old Faith and killing an unstoppable force had fallen on her shoulders, with everything else. The Land of the Old Faith was in crumbling disarray, and she desperately tried to fix it and put it back together in the 42 hours (or less) she had left to live. This was nothing more than a deranged little child, a single cat. She could beat her. She could fix it, she could fix everything—

She lost.

Something Beatrice was only able to realize after every last drop of responsibility withered away was just how exhausted she was. She was worn thin, hanging by a string that was tearing. When that string was finally cut, she could freefall, right into the comfort of a safe little idyllic, bright and merry, imaginary commune.

“What the fuck.” Was the first thing she said when she saw it.

You couldn’t just get rid of the Old Faith, you couldn’t just rewrite all of reality itself. Mae was only one woman, how could she possibly have stopped all this? But she did, and she had the insanity to keep going. What the absolute fuck. And worse yet, Mae had spared her life! She had the audacity to kill her captor and “set her free,” she had the audacity to break everything she’d ever known, thinking you could just let go?! This was unheard of!

But then again, Bea hadn’t taken a nap in decades. Actually, she wasn’t sure if she’d ever slept in the past century. She hadn’t ever experienced the peace and fun of dreaming. And now she had a schedule entirely of free time, whether she liked it or not. Beatrice…took a very long time to warm up to Mae. And it took even longer for the shock to fade, to stop feeling weird about this new, free place she was put in. Before Mae, she was overworked, slowly losing herself down the rabbit hole leading to a very dark place. And as time went on, she could finally see herself again, and as she looked at the other Witnesses playing in the grass and making gay little flower crowns, she realized what she could have become if she continued to silently, secretly fall apart. She…could be happy now. Maybe. She’d have to find out if that was even possible…

She also had to admit it was incredibly satisfying to see Narinder, the last God, doing janitorial work while she could sit back and sip on her pina colada made of Darkwood berries. If only she could have seen Kallamar finally do his job while she took a much-needed break.

Lori Meyers was a young, mortal mouse, always the outcast amongst her peers and village-mates. She preferred to keep to herself, hidden far away in the dark that was comfortable, that was predictable, that was beautiful. She found things like bugs, gore, guts, the night, horror—especially spiders, she loved spiders— she found them to be so cool, but for some reason, no one else did. And that made her the weird one. Growing up, all of these things that she was told by her peers deeply got to her, making her quick to become quite anxious before she’d ever share a cool looking bug with someone she liked, because it never turned out well. She wanted to be fine, isolated all by herself in her dimly-lit caves infested with spiders, earwigs and centipedes, she was the only person she ever needed—but even still, she always wanted to have someone to talk to. She would kill to have someone that would hear her talk about how centipedes and millipedes have these super epic pores that shoot out hydrogen cyanide gas that poisons their prey- or- or how cool and exceptional it is that jumping spiders have the brain power to effectively use the scientific method by constantly studying their environment and learning from their mistakes!

And like a miracle of the Gods, she did find someone.

Shamura and Lori likely had the most positive relationship out of all the Bishops and their Witnesses. Lori was scared of them at first—and that never truly goes away, when you’re dealing with a mighty Deity of the Old Faith. But when she spoke, they listened, and in response, they showed her new things to study. When she posed curiosity in unknown species of insect and creature, they would lift her up into the treetops with their colossal, claw-like legs and show her the truth. Shamura cultivated her mind, gave her all the resources and books she needed to learn and grow and become the true scholar her peers could never be. She learned fast, she had a quick wit, and a love for learning all that Shamura’s realm shined best in, and thus she quickly seated herself, obliviously, as the best heir to their throne.

An apprentice to follow in their shadow, a student for only the greatest of minds. The only thing is, she was so young…some way or another, she would have to grow up into a monster. A killer, an executioner, a judge. That would be where the doubt set in for Lori. She only wanted to learn, she never wanted things to come to this, but when not only your God but your closest friend gives you an order…

Lori was devastated with Shamura’s defeat. Her only ally was dead, she was alone again, and to make everything worse, she was the very last line of defense meant to stop Narinder from taking over the world. On one hand, she felt very small, and still very much a child, but on the other hand, she was full of rage and covered in millions of tiny spiders that could feel her grief as much as she. She still ended up losing, reluctantly succumbing to The Witness of Death and becoming a follower. She clung the most to Beatrice in the cult, as the best person who could understand her, but also as someone who tolerated her ramblings. It took her a while to warm up to Mae, and to fully understand the necessity of Shamura’s death. That would come with time and years of gradual reflection as she grew up in Mae’s cult.

The lesson that Lori would teach Mae about the Gods would be two things, one directly from Lori, and one indirectly from her. One would be how much Lori would challenge her faith in TOWW without ever truly dissenting, acting as a mirror for what TOWW’s horrors might look like. The other would be Mae looking at how Shamura kidnapped this child, isolated her from her family and parents, and raised her to be a murderer against her will, and how much indoctrination and manipulation goes into a cult just to make someone still fully believe in their leader even well after they’ve been seriously hurt by them. Lori was a more complicated case than Angus or even Gregg, but she still had her scars. And if Lori had been tricked by the Gods, had Mae been tricked as well? To what degree did TOWW suffer the same flaws as his siblings, to what degree was Mae a gullible child in the hands of a master manipulator, to what degree was this right? Was serving these Gods even worth it? What if she only did what she wanted? What if she just wanted to be happy? What if she was like all four witnesses before her, what if she threw her bat away and rejected this Old God’s offer? Sure, she was small, sure, she was an insect screaming against a mountain, but damn it, they only wanted to be happy. Mae, Angus, Gregg, Beatrice, Lori, all of them.

But this time, she could do something about it. She was the God-Killer. She could make it whatever she wanted, and Narinder would be a fool if He thought she wasn’t going down without a fight.

#COTL x NITW crossover AU #cult of the lamb #night in the woods #writing #story #fanfic #cult of the lamb x night in the woods crossover au #cotl shamura #cotl Heket #cotl Leshy #cotl Kallamar #NITW gregg #NITW angus #NITW mae #nitw bea #NITW Beatrice #Greggory Lee #angus delaney #beatrice santello #Lori meyers #nitw lori #cotl old faith #art #digital art #artwork #artists on tumblr #character design #sketch #tw spiders #arachnophobia

[basilone]

Hurricane + talisman for someone in MOTA? Juno xx

"For someone in MotA" wound up being "for Bucky Egan, because reasons". I, too, am apparently not entirely immune to the Bucky girlies propaganda (affectionate). 😂

hurricane / talisman

“Oh, shoot.”

George harrrumphs as another bright splash of yellow paint makes its way onto her boots. Sets the can down on the scrap of tarp that’s already been ruined by worse marks than this. Throws the paint brush down beside it for good measure before raking a hand through her hair. It’s always the same thing. Can’t do a paint job on a plane without mucking up her boots, her pant legs, and her fingernails.

Still, it looks all right. The desolate peeling paint has been scrapped. The nose looks fresher than it has in at least a month. Even the metal replacement doesn’t look like a total waste. Push had been real worried about adding the new plating, citing a welding issue that Ken had indeed cussed at, but it seems to work out fine from where George is standing.

The yellow lettering makes it, if she does say so herself. George digs around in her pocket for a handkerchief that hasn’t yet seen an absurd amount of grease. Comes up empty – really, she’s always running out of these even worse than the Clubmobile girls are – and heaves a sigh before rubbing her hands on the already yellow-spattered part of her uniform.

“Helluva name you got going there, Campbell!”

George is absolutely, totally, one hundred percent, forever going to deny the fact that she jumped at least a foot into the air at the unexpected shout. In fact, she’s not even really letting on to her startlement – that one rather loud “sweet Jesus!”-squeak hardly counts – and she’s perfectly collected about this.

“Major,” she acknowledges, once her heart stops beating a whole drumline of misery. Cranes her neck to peer around him at a surprisingly empty tarmac. “Someone steal your jeep, sir?”

Major Egan – Bucky, call me Bucky – rocks back on his feet as though she’s taken a shot at him and won a prize. “It’s nice out,” he says, as if his sunglasses and his huge grin didn’t already inform her of that. “Thought I’d walk, inspect the place.”

“Well, not a whole lot to see out here,” she says, “except a rather pristine paint job and some gun supplies Push needs to take a look at later. Things are quiet right now, sir. New shipment in a week’s gonna change that.”

“Your handiwork? The paint?”

George shoves her hands into her pockets. “Lettering, sure. Rest of it is Darlene’s.”

“Hurricane Harlot,” he declares, laughter spilling into his voice. “Whose idea was that?”

She shrugs. Glances sideways to find that his grin has impossibly broadened at the sight of Darlene’s rather apt painting of a lady seated atop a hurricane. “Not sure. I know it wasn’t Tiny – she just about died having to say the name out loud the other day – but could be anyone else from that crowd with the idea and I’d believe it, sir.” Her own money’s on Val, who’s tacky and shameless by her own admission, or Max, who will pipe up with a joke that’s got a whole table laughing in no time. “Jules okayed it and she’s the one flying this baby, so.”

“Group effort,” he says, sounding wiser than she’d ordinarily have given him credit for.

His own hands are shoved deep into the pockets of his flight jacket. It seems too warm for this time of year – the sun’s just about beating down today, making George pause for a drink that much sooner – but she knows better than to try and separate a pilot from his jacket. Even a pilot like him, who’s currently making do as an Air Exec and jumping out of his skin because of it, would balk at having to remove it for anything.

“All things are, sir. Group effort, I mean,” clarifies George, craning her neck a little to peer up at him. “They’re doing all right, these girls. And the new shipment coming in from Greenland sounded good, too.”

That earns her a loud laugh and a crinkled grin that’s not about to leave his face any time soon. “I’ll tell Buck you called him a shipment, Campbell. He’s gonna love it.”

Buck, of course, is what she’s going to need to call Major Cleven once the man’s actually over here being forced to live up to the rather tall tales Major Egan’s been chanting about him everywhere on base. George almost feels like she knows him – the straight man to Major Egan’s joking demeanor, the calm centered in the eye of Major Egan’s storm – and she’s got no doubt it’s going to cost her a moment before she can call him Major without thinking of Buck.

“–itch the sirs, Campbell.”

George blinks. “Sir?”

“You can ditch the sirs, Campbell.” He’s already moving again, hands roaming over the beat-up metal plating they took off the plane, glancing back at her as if to make sure she’s following him like a little duckling. “Makes me feel old!” And Bucky Egan doesn’t like to feel old, or so she knows from all the singing and dancing they say he’s been doing around these parts since he got here. “Who’d you say the gun supplies were for?”

“Push. Perrault”– she clarifies, seeing him frown –“the flight engineer?”

“About this high,” he asks, indicating something slightly lower than his own shoulder, “big scowl on her face, refuses to call me Bucky, bossier than the Colonel himself?”

George’s lips twitch. “Sounds like her, sir.”

His answer’s all groan and almost-headache in its loudness. “Campbell…!”

“Sounds like her, Bucky.”

“Thank you,” he says to her correction, even though she damn near felt like stumbling over the name. “What’s Perry gonna do with these? What even is this?”

“Oh! That’s where that got to!”

“Where what got to?” His bemused tone rises in pitch ever so slightly when she snatches the small trinkets off the pile of retracting slides. “Campbell, wha–”

“It’s George, actually, sir. Bunch of Campbells on this base”– really, they’re almost as bad as the Dorrance-Joneses except none of the Campbells are related –“but I’m the only George. And this,” she says, holding a chain aloft, “is all that remains of the really ugly bracelet Dee’s ex-fiancé got her. Along with, well, my broken pendant.”

He doesn’t miss a beat. “Your ex-fiancé’s pendant, George?”

She grimaces. “Pretty sure I’m not marriage material, si– Bucky. It’s just some stupid bullshit the girls asked me to work on. Lucky talisman or something.” She shrugs at it. Drops the pendant into his waiting hand, but pockets the chain herself. “You’re welcome to it, if you like. Would just get tossed out otherwise.”

“Little broken wing on it,” he says, studying the pendant by holding it against the light. “You know, I flew something like this once. Had to land the damn thing even with the wing being crooked.”

“That’s a bitch.”

“Yeah, George,” he grins, “it really is. Think it’s gonna stop me from having to belly-land one of these again if I pocket this?”

“Stitch it into your collar on the side the damage was on. You come back, it works. You go down, well, you’re gonna curse me at heaven’s gate.” George shrugs. Grins back. “I hate getting cursed, you know.”

The pendant vanishes into one of his impossibly deep pockets. His grin remains fully in place. “So I’d better come back, is what I’m hearing?”

“Once they let you back up, sure. And they’re gonna.”

“New shipment coming in. Might not have to.”

George blinks. Plants her hands on her hips. “You’re a pilot, sir, not some damn Air Exec. Blind man can see that.” She swallows. Raises her eyes skyward. “Way this is going, we’re gonna need more pilots.”

His voice lowers. Goes soft around the edges in a way she hasn’t heard from Bucky Egan a day in her life. “And a ground crew providing keepsakes.”

“Talismans, Bucky. That’s what the kids call them these days.”

“You calling me an old man, George?”

George looks him up and down. Registers his too-curly mussed-up hair, his smile beneath his sunglasses, his too-clean uniform beneath his slightly beat-up jacket. Sees how he fidgets in place, all energy pent up until someone releases him for a hunt. His boots are shiny.

“If the shoe fits,” she says, before she can stop herself. Winks at him before turning back to her tarp and paint. “Be seeing you, sir. Preferably behind the yoke of something like a Hurricane Harlot.”

His chuckle sounds warmer than the afternoon sunshine. His shout is so loud she almost jumps into the air again. “Be seeing you, George Campbell!”

He’s got a way of making things sound like the world’s most earnest promise.

#masters of the air #john egan #oc: george #mota oc #basilonefic

[chaifootsteps]

Afterlife Anon here back after a 2-week roadtrip! Totally dispelled Hazbin stuff from my mind during that aside from occasionally thinking about my Charlastor AU fic chapter I want to post next (got to go to Disney World for a bit so that helped). So, two questions!

Anything major related to Hazbin/Helluva/Viv I've missed?

Since I assume you've listened to the full soundtrack at this point, favorite Death Note musical songs?

Welcome back! Glad to hear you had a good time!

Nothing too major. Viv's been going to Broadway musicals left and right and aggressively kissing the actors' asses on social media, and speaking of asses, Morgana flashed hers like the stalwart Spindlehorse professional she is. The playbills still haven't gone out.

Back to back! My favorite's still The Way it Ends, but I really love Hurricane, There Are Lines, and Playing His Game.

#Anonymous #viv stuff #afterlife anon #actual blog post

[softlyspector]

Lavender, and You choose the character!

Lavender: Love at first sight

a/n: sorry im taking this opportunity to write about a character none of you care about from triple frontier. benny miller x reader

It's not exactly love at first sight.

More like love at first punch.

Benny Miller comes into your life like a hurricane, like the swipe of god's finger through the earth.

You notice him the moment he walks into the diner, right in the middle of the morning rush. And you recognize him, because he could only be Will's younger brother.

He and Will sit down in your section, and you take their orders in a hurry, apologizing for the chaotic atmosphere that's taken over the diner.

Two tables over, a still half-drunk bachelor's party is continuing last night's celebration.

"Tough morning?" Benny asks, azure eyes tracking the rowdy crowd. He looks back to you and smiles. His whole face lights up, grin stretching wide.

"Ah, we've had worse," you intone, waving your order pad at him. "But I mean, c'mon," you say, looking between the brothers. "Who the fuck has a bachelor's party in this town? Excuse the unprofessional language."

"That's alright, honey. We've heard much worse."

You catch Will rolling his eyes at the blatant flirting. "That so?" You ask amused, watching as he slings an arm over the back of the booth seat, clearly flexing as he does it, head tilted back to keep his eyes on you. "He always show off like that, Will?" You ask.

"Only when he thinks a girl is pretty," Will says with a smirk.

You laugh and walk away, Benny Miller spluttering behind you, his voice so loud it carries over the din of the restaurant. "How the fuck does she know your name?"

You don't hear Will's answer, the older Miller much more subdued, but you laugh anyways. Benny was loud and animated, the antithesis to his brother's careful calm. You know Will because he stops in for coffee every morning, and you know Benny because he’s Will’s brother and a minor celebrity in the town, an MMA fighter with a nasty streak.

In the rush, you lose track of time, serving as quickly as you can, only briefly stopping by the Miller’s table, Benny attempting to catch your attention each time, charming smile set in place, flirting like he was getting paid to do it.

But then it's time for the bachelor's party to go. They give you trouble over the check. "Look, asshole," you snap at the man who condescendingly asked you to do the math again. "Either pony up or get the fuck outta here."

"Ah, c'mon," he whines, wrapping an arm around your hips to jerk you closer. When you pull back, his arm tightens, "Fuck, c'mon, sweetheart, don’t be like that. Cut us a deal, huh? He’s gettin’ married. In fact maybe later-," his hand starts to skim down your bare thigh and you stiffen. Anger courses through you, gearing up to punch him square in the face when you’re yanked back right out of his grip, a large body blocking your view.

You stumble and then hear the telltale crack of fist against bone, a chair tumbling backwards. “Don’t touch a lady without her fuckin’ permission. Pay, tip, and get the fuck out.”

And you’d hate to admit it but it does something to you, that low voice and the blood on his knuckles and the way he stands in front of you.

~

You kick your foot against Benny Miller's boot when you meet the brothers in the parking lot, interrupting Will’s lecture about Benny punching his way through life. He's sitting on the curb, forearms resting on his knees. "One helluva punch you got there, Miller."

He's a keyed up kind of wired, springing to his feet, "Shouldn't be treatin' you like that. I'd do it again." He says, like he expects you to reprimand him too.

"All I said is that it was a nice punch,” you raise a brow.

"They pressing charges?” Will asks, pinching the bridge of his nose as Benny starts to pace, a wild untamed energy sparking off him.

"No. Talked 'em out of it when I said I'd report them for harassment. Didn't want that, one of 'em just got into law school."

"Jesus."

"Yeah always the worst ones huh?" You say to Will before grabbing Benny by the front of his shirt and jerking him to a halt, "And you. Don't steal my right to deck a handsy fucker again. Got it?"

Benny raises an eyebrow, a sunshine smile lighting up his face. "You were gonna deck him, honey?"

"Sure, I've got a mean right hook. He's not the first or last asshole to roll through here." You let go of his shirt and smooth it back into place, watching Benny's gaze flick over you.

Something comes over his face, the smile growing wider. "You busy tonight?"

"Why? You gonna teach me how to throw a punch?"

"I'm sure you've got that covered. Got a fight tonight. MMA. You can be my good luck charm. Dinner after I win?"

He's flexing again.

Boyish and chaotic and mean.

You like him.

You tilt your head at him, feeling so strangely charmed. Trying to repress a smile, you turn to Will with snap of your fingers, "That's where I recognize him from! I saw him get his ass kicked a few weeks ago."

Will laughs and Benny looks at you like he’s finally found a challenge.

#benny miller x reader #triple frontier #triple frontier drabble #ben miller x reader #benny miller #triple frontier fanfiction

[mxlovinovargas]

TREMENDOUS DYNAMITE — PRUSSIA x READER

Synopsis: He's after you.

Tremendous Dynamite

CW: Stalking, Predator-Prey Scenario, Obsessive Thoughts, Obsessive Behavior, Creepy Behavior, Uncomfortable Scenario, Use of Country Names, Reader-Insert.

Word Count: .800

I am El Hombre Lobo. 

But you?

You were something that made Prussia quack in his very wake, like a sick puppy staring into the mouth of a deadly disease that wanted to open its maw and swallow whole, like there was a blade chopping down and his head would roll. You were a force—something beautiful and something clean, dirtied only by the blood on your knuckles and the skin of your teeth that glistened with the sweat from a battle. Prussia always turned his head whenever you walked into the room. 

Nothing short of a thrusting storm, of a hurricane carrying the ichor of the sea ready to sweep him off of his feet; like the day dips into the horizon, and Prussia was on the prowl for a restless night. 

He dodged behind the crevice of two tightly pressed together business buildings, unimportant and his only source of shelter, as he staked you out like a cat hunts a mouse. You walked so boldly, so sure even in the dead of the night and Prussia felt the rhythm of his head pound away like parade drums in his head. The spin of color guard flags, the sound they make as fabric pulls taut and flaps, the way the wind blows through them. The trumpets on high, the tuba on low—of screeching flutes and humming trombones, Prussia hears the whole damn thing playing in his frustrated head and he grimaces thickly. This was a game Prussia was messing with that he knew could end in explosions galore that shatter through his very soul to send him running for the hills to never be seen again (messing with you was always like that), but he’s got a fuse that he can light. He flicks the flame of a match, shh chaaa, and red spindles flicker like seeding fireweed. 

She’s tremendous, she’s dynamite—

Prussia steps out into the limelight, doused by pale yellow from dinky old street lamps that don't offer much but enough to cast deep shadows across his grim face. The shadows dance for a brief moment as he moves forward, following following following, as Prussia trails after your retreating form. You don't notice. 

Or, at least, Prussia thinks you don't notice. 

His first footfall makes an echoing clap that resounds off of the wall, reverberates like bubblegum and glue, and clings to the shell of his ear like a formidable gunshot. Then, you run. Prussia splutters like a dying lemon’s transmission before he sprints forward like his life depended on it. He grits his teeth so harshly that they make a terrible squeak in his mouth as he balls his fists and chops his arms to the pace of his running feet. He should have expected nothing less! The grit turns into a halfhearted smirk. Oil spills of maroon and violet eat up your form as Prussia stares, watches your every move and every turn. He twists his body to follow after you. You are one helluva little opponent—Prussia knew it wouldn't be this easy. 

She could put up a hard-won fight. 

You’re so clever. If Prussia didn’t know these streets like the back of his hand, he would have definitely lost you by now; fortunately, for the dastardly man chasing after you, he did and he was gaining on you fast. Your head might be screwed on real tight, but there's only some many bobs and weaves you can do until—

until you're at a dead end. 

And this, this truly is your birthright. 

Tremendous dynamite you may be, but every explosion has its smoke and mirrors before it evanescences and then disappears in the fade of char and misery. 

I am El Hombre Lobo, Prussia thinks to himself as he stands so tall and so looming behind you, in front of you, before you. He traps off your escape and he can see your shoulders heaving. He stalks forward, leering with those schmears of red and purple looking so insanely pleased and victorious. Prussia takes in all you have to offer, basking in it so appraisingly and so willingly and so greedily and so needily. He can't help but feel giddy, can't help but feel the sparks of electricity in the tips of his fingers as he draws near. The way your shoulders pinch, the way your breath seems to hitch in fear at each of Prussia's footsteps. The heels of his boot click like a bomb by the second and he's so close that if he opened his mouth to breathe you in, he would taste you too. 

On the prowl, Prussia comes, and then he sees you turn so demurely that it feels like slow music and he can hear the band in his head go into a slow rocky jazz that leaves a one-two riff strumming in his aching eardrums. It’s past midnight. You turn around fully. And Prussia’s dartin’ under the town’s searchlight as he closes in totally. 

But it’s all worth it to take a bite. 

You're tremendous, you’re dynamite.

#hws prussia #prussia x reader #hetalia world twinkle #hetalia x reader #yandere x you #yandere x y/n #yandere x reader #prussia x y/n #prussia x you #yandere prussia #yandere hetalia #yandere hetalia x reader #Cib Writes SPICY Fics

[aro-in-danyl]

Helluva ships - featuring Radioapple

Mammon does in fact tattle to Lucifer about Asmodeus and Fizz's relationship. Let's say the Helluva timeline lines up with Lucifer and Alastor getting closer sometime after season 1.

Lucifer doesn't know why Mammon bothered, even if Lucifer didn't have whatever was going on between him and Al -- he still wouldn't give a fuck. And he'd give even less of a fuck considering Mammon was still committing copyright infringement for his park, the audacity of that man was astronomical.

Still, Mammon calls a meeting to spill the tea because even he knows Lucifer is a hermit who does not keep up with the drama of Hell's so-called elite.

Asmosdeus finds out and therefore Blitzø finds out. So they all crash the meeting to give Mammon what-for. Fizz and Blitzø because they've never met Lucifer and think hes going to be pissed. Moxxie and Millie because Blitzø lied about where they were going and refused to let them leave. Stolas for moral support (and he's also never met the King, sue him, he's excited despite the circumstance) and Ozzie because he couldn't stop them so he might as well join them.

Following multiple very unnecessary pit-stops and shenanigans, they finally arrive at the palace---and it's too late.

Alastor has already kicked Mammon out and now he and Lucifer are doing paperwork, gossiping, and fighting over the (according to Alastor) tacky interior design of the palace.

The Helluva gang bust in (Blitzø is on a horse for some reason, he's very happy about this) and it's very anti-climatic.

Asmosdeus: so you...don't care that I'm in love with an imp?

Lucifer, dad mode: You're in love? I'm so proud of you!

Blitzø: Just to be clear, I'm fucking this bird, there's nothing you can do about it

Lucifer: Okay??

Alastor: Darling, they think you care about hell's hierarchy

Lucifer: Oh! Yeah, uh-no. That'd be pretty hypocritical of me considering [gestures to Alastor]

The Helluva crew leave the palace once Lucifer and Alastor start bickering again looking like they've escaped a hurricane, wondering if they should be sending the King of Hell a 'Congratz on the Divorce' card.

Moxxie: ...does this mean we have two Kings now?

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor #hazbin lucifer #radioapple #appleradio #duckiedeer #helluba boss #fizzmodeus #fizzarolli #fizzarozzie #helluva boss blitz #stolas x blitz #helluva mammon #I mean I also think this could apply to Lucilith since she is technically a sinner #but people like Mammon and the elite are hypocrites so it didn’t even occur to them that Lucifer wouldn't care #also I'm really starting to come around to LilithxRosie so she also does not care about the hierarchy

[hurricane-utah]

I um um i-I uh Um uhhh um

#helluva-hurricane #drawing #original art #fanart #tadc fanart #tadc jax #tadc pomni #tadc pomni x jax #the amazing digital circus #jax x pomni #pomni x jax

[cloudysonder]

Updated Palaces and Souvenirs last night, the Stolitz fic that I am in fact still working on (work’s been a little “death to all things you love and free time is a myth”)

Oh, the sprinkles of my radleft abolitionist beliefs are about to turn into hurricanes— I believe in relationships and love as resistance and revolution, class solidarity, and community, and this will be a story about all those things reigning champion in a world that doesn’t seem to care if certain people live or die. Give it a read, if you like ❤️, and if you could tell me if you liked it and why, it’d mean the world.

Hope you all are living life w lots of love💕

#stolitz #stolas #blitzo #helluva boss #helluva boss fanfiction #prison abolition #stolas x blitz #vivziepop #stolitz fanfic

[aturnoftheearth]

mighty the stranger son of a gun when will i see you again into the sun the problem with your daughter we went wild ends of the earth time to run lonesome dreams the ghost on the shore she lit a fire i will be back one day the man who lives forever lullaby brother in the wind setting sun last night you were a dream the birds are singing at night love like ghosts until the night turns dead man’s hand hurricane (johnnie’s theme) la belle fleur sauvage fool for love the world ender meet me in the woods the yawning grave frozen pines cursed way out there louisa the night we met lost in time and space never ever ancient names pt 1 ancient names pt 2 wait by the river secret of life back from the edge the balencer’s eye when the night is over moonbeam vide noir emerald star the moon doesn’t mind mine forever (one helluva performer) love me like you used to meet me in the city (sing for us tonight) long twenty long years drops in the lake where did the time go not dead yet (deep down inside ya) i lied at sea what do it mean time’s blur your other life

#AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH #lord huron

[amynchan]

Hi, you found me!

Chances are, you're someone who found me due to some fandom or another. XD I tend to fandom hop a lot, and as my description says, I'm a Hurricane on Main. If you're here for fandom stuff, I have curated a List of Tags I use to make searching things easier:

Akatsuki No Yona

Avatar the last Airbender

Bluey

Boku No Hero Academia x

Cells at Work

City of Somnus

Dr. Stone

Doctor Who

Fruits Basket

Fullmetal Alchemist

Fullmetal Alchemist Brotherhood

Ghost Hunt x

Good Omens

Gravity Falls

Harry Potter

Helluva Boss

Hunter x Hunter

Mass Effect

Mo Dao Zu Shi (Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation)

Phantasy Star Universe

Phineas and Ferb

RWBY

Soul Eater

Spy x Family

Star Vs The Forces of Evil

Star Wars

Steven Universe

Undertale / DeltaRune

Voltron

Yumiero Patissiere

This list isn't exhaustive, and I tend to keep things nice and updated on the Fandom List page, so if you don't see what you're looking for here, it's probably there.

If you are here for my own stuff, you can check out my art, story, poetry, and/or analysis tags.

Anything else...??? I don't think so. Anyways, welcome to the madness. XD Hope you find what you're looking for. *^_^*

#post to pin #greeting #hello

[breakingchesky]

Seven days, two hurricanes, one helluva dude. From Bermuda to Fort Myers, @amlikethewind was a steady hand in troubled waters. Get some rest compadre & cheers. ~ MC (at Sanibel Causeway) https://www.instagram.com/p/CjQl5PjuXuU/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[clown-poke]

I’ve recently watched Helluva Boss and Hazbin Hotel for the first time. It’s…I don’t see what all the controversy is about?? They’re fine. I’ve watched WAY worse hahaha

Anyway! If you wanna be negative or critical about them pls stay away from my blog thank you!

This is my concept for Leviathan. I’m sure the actual show design will be totally different, but I’m having fun playing with my idea for her.

Thoughts so far: Leviathan is (hopefully) going to be female or non-binary, given that 3 out of 4 of the sins we’ve seen so far seem to be male. I think Envy would lead a very high-class, rich-influencer sort of lifestyle—everyone wants to be like them! She absolutely oozes luxury.

I imagine the wealth inequality in the Envy ring is even worse than in the rest of Hell. There are a few obnoxiously rich elites (a rotating circle of the most attractive of which are always hanging around Leviathan), and a whole lot of other people who are furiously scrambling to try to climb up the social ladder. Leviathan promotes the idea that anyone can be part of the social elite if they just eat the right diet, wear the right clothes, buy the right things….it’s The Leviathan Dream! (Referencing “the American dream”). Of course, even the elite can’t rest….after all, Leviathan has a small circle of besties who throw the most exclusive parties and know all the best gossip, and the membership of her circle is always changing!

Her app, EnVee, is of course social media. What better way to show a user that everyone else is so much hotter and more successful than they are than a curated reel of everyone else’s greatest triumphs and best selfies photoshopped to perfection?

I also like to think that Leviathan is literally always perfect. Not personality-wise, of course—she’s obviously a snob. But her hair? Never out of place, even in a hurricane. Her clothing? Never had a wardrobe malfunction. She never stumbles or drops things. Never misspeaks or uses utterances. Never remembers a fact incorrectly. She’s perfect.

(Ironically, this is the singular thing that really bothers her about herself. After all, other people make such a big fuss about how imperfection is endearing and flaws make art worthwhile and all that….something she’ll never experience, and occasionally, it infuriates her. But she never shows it in an unbecoming manner, of course.)

Her design is a mix between a praying mantis and an anglerfish, and the mask-like design of her face represents one of the great deceits of envy—you always envy what’s on the surface of other people’s lives without truly understanding what their lives are like beneath the mask.

#helluva boss #helluva boss oc #helluva boss fanart #seven deadly sins #leviathan #envy #Hazbin hotel #vivziepop #helluva boss original character #shes called ‘livvy’ by the other sins btw #and gets in great with belphegor (who also leads a very luxurious lifestyle) #gets on* #the only sin who really dislikes her is mammon #because she acts like she’s even richer than he is and he KNOWS he’s richer than she is #she mainly associates with hot powerful demons (including many members of the goetia family) #but will from time to time include even imps or hellhounds in her circle (only very hot ones of course) #just to show that anyone can truly rise to the top. so why haven’t you?