#lovely boudreaux

[berryscaryskies]

The last shadow moon gen !!!

-there's so much to say about Lovely, he's been so much fun to play and imagine. And her romance with Laila was just so sweet and down to earth. They met as kids, but unfortunately Laila's family moved back to her dad's hometown so the two stayed in contact as pen pals and then the internet. It was only as teenagers when Laila came to visit and the two wound up going to prom together did they realize their romantic feelings. And it was pretty smooth sailing form there. They got a place together in Mt. Komorebi. Lovely got a job as a bartender and Laila works at a local ice rink(fake, she was actually an athlete, but just play pretend with me for a second) they even adopted a dog and a kitten.

-They got married in their backyard with their whole family there to watch, just an overall beautiful ceremony.

-unlike his moms' date nights tho Lovely isn't much of a quiet night in person and neither is Laila. So the two will go on cute little hikes with Elf at their side or maybe try rock climbing together. Most days they sneak off to go snowboarding together. 

-shortly after their wedding the two decided to go on a fun little rock climbin excursion. They prepared all they could and made sure they were ready and equipped, but unfortunately that didn't stop a bad storm from rolling in. Laila, being adventurous and an overachiever tried to get them to a good area safe from the storm, but unfortunately it didn't quite work as planned. And in one horrifying moment, she fell to her death. 

-The worst part is that they both had a "wants to Try For Baby" whim that I'd pinned before the Event. So after placing Laila's grave her ghost was added back to the household and now she's kinda of just hanging out. I like to imagine Lovely is VERY clingly and protective of her right now. And has come to the decision that she will learn how to revive Laila by any means necessary.

-And tbh I've technically finished the challenge now and am just kinda playing out a bit more of their life together for funsies lol. They wanted a kid and I think a good way to end their story is for that to finally come to fruition. And guess what! They wound up with a little human boy named Yuki :)

sim versions (Laila, Lovely, Yuki, and the second row is Laila and Lovely one as teens and the other as kids)

#lovely boudreaux #shadow moon legacy #my art

[asriel-boudreaux-hallowed]

Welp, just got a text from Madame Georgia…oh dear god, what am I gon’ do wit’ dat woman.

*sigh*

Welp, I won’t be back in time, but I’ll still cut my vacation short. Guess imma call her daddy and see if he can get me a plane back to New Orleans

#john wick #john wick oc #asriel boudreaux #rougarou #exasperated and in-love #rp prompts

[antiquarianandunusual]

I realized I haven’t talked much here about how auditions went for next semester, so anyway I’m playing Ouiser in “Steel Magnolias” and I think she’s going to be one of my favorite characters I’ve ever played.

#steel magnolias #ouiser boudreaux #god i love playing unhinged women

[yatiso]

my childhood cat not even at the peak of his fatness <3 fat bastard boudreaux <3

#🍒 #he lived to 13!! #he was aka flea bag boudreaux we loved him so much #im takin the pic i think and ik thats my lil brother w the gun LMAO

[naoa-ao3]

Just A Man

Rogue was on a mission. That was why she was in New Orleans. She didn't like it though. Not that she had anything against the city it was just that on every corner she stopped she could feel Remy. He was there in the crowd, up on a balcony, sitting in a restaurant. He was everywhere.

Everywhere in a city that had been so much a part of him.

Of course she had no real idea if he was there. He could be half way around the world for all she knew.

She remembered all of the times the X-Men had visited New Orleans. So many times they had gotten caught up in his guild business. And there it was. The reason they weren't together. His life was one one problem after another and so many of them he brought on himself. She sat down at a cafe to eat. It was hot and all of the indoor tables were taken. She had to eat on the street. She stirred her drink slowly, feeling the weight of so many memories and so much love. There where ghosts all around and then one materialized in front of her. A blond woman, beautiful and tall. She emerged from the crowed and came and took a seat across from Rogue.

Belladonna Bourdreaux.

"It's been a long time." She said. She had the same accent as Remy. She came from the same world. Rogue had once felt threatened by this woman. Now they were on equal ground.

"You here to fight?" Rogue asked coolly.

Belladonna shook her head. She looked a little older than the last time they had seen each other. Maybe life had caught up to her. "What do we have to fight about?" She asked. "Neither of us have him and you ain't here to mess with de Guilds." She ordered lunch.

"What're you here for then?"

Belladonna shrugged. "I heard you and Remy broke up a while back. Never did know why."

Rogue felt a little offended. "And what makes you think you got any right to know?"

Belladonna gave her a coldly sympathetic look. A look that said: Because I've been there already. "He flirt too much or did he kill your brother too? Leave you when you needed him?"

Rogue frowned. "I left him. He didn't do much of anything." This wasn't entirely true but it wasn't why she'd left him. Going back to Sinister. . . the deal with Apocalypse. She hadn't ended it because of that although they hadn't won him any favors.

Belladonna looked surprised. "I loved him for a real long time." She said. "But he ain't good. Not for himself or anyone else." Rogue was quiet. "He doesn't mean to be. I know he doesn't. He's not a bad person. . . he's just careless and he makes bad choices. One after another and he thinks they're his alone to make but they effect other people and then when someone gets hurt he sits there wondering how the hell it happened."

Rogue was quiet. It was true. Remy always made decisions with the best of intentions. Sinister, Apocalypse, Sinister again but they always ended badly and she was right even more because people did get hurt. Innocent people. The morlocks, Belladonna, Rogue herself. People fell in love with him and that never ended well. She had even heard that Wolverine had kicked him out of the X-Men.

She was sure Remy deserved it. She had heard he had tried to rob Tony Stark. He knew mutant human relations were constantly at risk and he knew that he was a high profile mutant. He never cared about that. She thought he had always been uncaring about how mutants were perceived. Maybe that was unfair. Maybe he did care but he sure never acted like it.

Belladonna watched her face. "You ain't happy knowin' I'm right." She said.

Rogue looked down at her plate. "You come here so we could shit talk him?"

She shrugged. "I just was wonderin' why you two split. I thought maybe he'd found something better with you." She looked at Rogue seriously. "I hated you. You know that? I hated you from the bottom of my heart. Even while I was hating him."

"I know you did."

There was a bitter laugh. "We had a time though, didn't we? You X-Men. . . my Assassins. I'm sorry you got dragged into it."

Rogue was surprised. "You don' hate me any more?"

"Part of me always will. Just like part of me will always love him. You think you'll ever fall in love again?"

Rogue was thrown by the question. She thought maybe Belladonna had been searching for someone to talk to. "I don't know."

"I gave up love. I'm the leader of the Assassins Guild. That is my marriage." She laughed a short dark laugh. "My second love." She looked down for a moment. "But loving him was something, wasn't it?" Her voice turned sentimental.

Rogue thought about all of the times she had known in her heart that she loved Remy and she understood. "Yeah." It hurt to think about.

"You still love him, don't you?"

She didn't respond. She didn't have to and she knew it.

Belladonna smiled. "Lovin' him was like having the whole world in your heart. Like every day was golden and perfect and even if it wasn't. . . he was. And the sex. . . ain't nothin like it in the world." A shiver went down Rogue's back at the mention just as her heart hurt at the mention of love. "Gettin a man who's good at sex. . . well a man you don't have to teach to be good at it. . . that doesn't happen too often." She paused. "My God, he almost seems perfect. Doesn't he? Just until you been around him for long enough. Then you start to see that it's not all sunshine and charm. Start to see he's just a man. Not the worst. . . they never are but him. . . he makes you think he's more and then you find out he isn't. You find out he's just a man and it breaks your heart and it's almost more than you can take. He didn't have to fight my brother. . . that was two boys butting heads and it ended the way it ended. My brother was a fool and Remy was a fool for fighting him. For fighting him and expecting a different ending. Then he left me and after that it seemed like he just kept on leavin' me. My heart broke every time 'cause that sweet kid I loved so much was just a man after all. Same faults as any of the others."

"He's done a lot of bad things. I know he didn't mean to do most of them. . ." Rogue said, speaking at last.

"But he did them just the same, didn't he?"

"Yeah and then he goes and tried to find a short cut to redemption and blows it all to hell all over again."

Belladonna nodded. "He's just a boy. You know they always are. Men. They're always boys underneath. They grow up but just the same part of 'em is still the kid they were. Remy had to grow up fast he and I both did. Maybe you did too, I don't know. I reckon so. I reckon we all got short childhoods and none of them were exactly what they should have been. But it doesn't excuse anything."

Rogue nodded again. "I go to sleep and I still love him. Does that make me weak?"

"No child. I don't think so. It makes you human. There are nights I still love him. Nights my heart breaks cause he's not there in bed next to me. Cause he's not touching me. Nights I imagine I can feel his hand on my arm. On my cheek. I think there always will be. I think when you love someone like him you love them so totally that it can't ever leave you."

Rogue felt her heart break some more because she knew just what Belladonna as talking about. Hell, she could touch people now and all she wanted some nights was to touch him.

"Maybe it's selfish of me but I hope some day you two work through your bull shit because I think you two were born to be together. I think you two love each other the way I once thought he and I loved each other."

"After everything you've said?"

"Oh shoot, it's like I said: he's not a bad man. He's just trying to be good and he's not good at it. He needs someone to show him how. It's petulant and pathetic but it's what he needs. He always gets himself into trouble. Sleeps with the wrong woman. . . makes the wrong guy mad. . . trusts the wrong person. He brings it on himself and he deserves it half the time but you never feel like he does. I never do. I tried but I couldn't."

"I don't know if I want to love him again."

Belladonna smiled. "Shoot girl, you gotta quite before you can do it again. And he's not the kind of man you can ever quite. Something about him you just fall in love with and hell, he'll fall in love right back."

Rogue nodded. "Guess so."

"Well. . . I'm not telling you what you gotta do. Just what I hope you'll do. Slap the crap outa him if you have to just love him in the end." She broke into a grin. "You ever heard the song Stand by Your Man? One of the worst country songs ever written but it makes me think of him sometimes. There's one line. . . cause after all, he's just a man. Don't excuse anything but it's true."

Rogue laughed. "I know the song."

They laughed for a moment and it dawned on Rogue that she never in all her dreams thought she'd be sitting at a table laughing with Belladonna Bourdreaux. Least of all that the woman would be telling her to love Remy.

"I was jealous of you." He admitted.

Belladonna looked at her, the laughter dying from her eyes. "And I was of you. I think part of me this minute is glad you were jealous. Glad you felt threatened. But I don't think I mean you any malicious will. We've both loved the same man and we've both lost him. That brings women together. Doesn't make 'em friends. . . don't even make 'em like each other but it brings 'em together. Gives 'em common ground. Hell, it's probably what makes up hate each other."

"You miss him and I miss him and we both still love him. I don't think he has a right makin' us feel like this." Rogue smiled a little at her own words. "He's a bastard."

"He is indeed. Boy can't keep it in his pants and he doesn't know when to stop talking but he's just a man and he's no better or worse than anyone else. Well. . . maybe a little more worse. But it's like we said: he doesn't mean to be and deep down he's not. You see him again, you help him do good. You hear me? Cause he needs to do good he just don't know how."

Rogue nodded. "I won't ask you to do the same but I'll say thanks. Maybe some day Remy and I will work it out. I don't know if I want to but I'll keep an open mind."

The two women looked at each other and felt the closest thing to liking each other they had ever felt. Then Belladonna turned away and was gone and Rogue payed the check, head filled with thoughts about Remy and all of his faults and all of his virtues and everything that made him just a man and everything that made him seem like so much more and she knew. . . just a small part of her knew that she would never stop loving him.

#remy leabeau #rogue #anna marie raven #belladonna boudreaux #fanfiction #fanfic #ao3 #romance #conversations #awkward conversations #fic #love #romy #rogue x gambit #fan fic #fan fiction

[2godscreationsllc]

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Phone : [phone]

2 Gods Creations offers custom shirts & accessories, made with love and care just for you to share.

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[cybervom1t]

An Irish Goodbye

Well friendz, it’s been real and it’s been fun but I think it’s time for me to log off tumblr for the foreseeable future. Thanks for loving me and making me feel beautiful at a time when I desperately needed it. I won’t delete this account but I’m not gonna be checking it any time soon. All my love love love forever and always, Boudreaux <3

#wordvomit

[berryscaryskies]

i love taking my sims to prom

#i was also the type of teen that went to absolutely ever school dance #i just enjoyed them a lot #Lovely Boudreaux #shadow moon legacy #thats Lovely's love interest btw #theyre long distance best friends and Laila made the trip from Mt Komorebi to Copperdale just to go to hang out with her and go to prom #as friends tho #obvi #no romantic feelings here no siree ;)

[tewwor]

sea creature affairs starter call — i won't lie.. got a hankering to rev up some new content with these goons. everyone resides / at least calls harborview their home. just a small coastal town that's 10000% normal and not inhabited by strange things from the nearby sea. creatures of which that were made or in the very least influenced by some lone god found beneath sea foam and abyssal depths.

More sea creature lore here!

like and/or specify who you'd like from habrorview's very own! if you previously liked for a starter ( and/or i already made you one ) and you want another with a different character — please comment and let me know!!! i'm more than happy to have multiple threads with these silly strange creatures

adal — werewolf / sea creature hybrid . carpenter that's just trying his best, so soft and guilt ridden he'll help thieves clear out his own home, designated scout for any trouble brewing on the horizon as he sails most often

altan — basilisk . angry hermit trying desperately to live in solitude, keeper of a barely functioning lighthouse, usually the first point of contact for oram when he waddles his sea monster ass back to land, immediately beams super mean things into orams head to help him remember how to speak the human language before kicking him out.

amant taylor boudreaux — human . just a guy that's been obsessed with harborview's happenings, he's dedicated his life to accurately detail not only it's citizens but also the mysterious people that return from the sea, would 1000% try to get nasty with someone just to lowkey research them, brainrot on god ( oram, even if he doesn't know that weird soggy man is the sea god responsible for all sea creatures )

dane — sea creature . marine biology professor & totally not the son of the alleged sea god, oram, is known to throw the occasional hissy fit if a traveler starts to get too nosy, ignorance is the only thing keeping his father immortal

danny — sea creature . pirate smoted humbled by another god's wrath, runs a pub and very uncanny valley if you look close enough, thinks sitting by him while he soaks in the tub counts as a romantic date, probably eats people

hugh — sea creature . unofficial babysitter of newly turned sea creatures, just wants to run his restaurant in peace but is usually in pieces instead, don’t ask questions if you see him throwing things off the pier

joel — human ( for now ) . ooooo the sea creatures want him so bad, retired saturation diver, plagued with trauma / #1 harborview conspiracy theorist, main character syndrome & literally at his wits end

lior — siren / sea creature hybrid . prior criminal ties, current fashionista, embodiment of 'i told you so', weirdly misses needing souls as sustenance

oram — hunters want him, joel fears him, he barely knows wtf is going on at any time of his unfortunately long life, often found as a wet and soggy man wandering the beach, eldritch vibes all around and does little to hide it

tatsuro watanabe — figurehead come alive . the newest of harborview’s bestiary, still trying to grasp how humans act and why, will try anything once, underestimates his strength often, lowkey something intimidating about him

vincent — imugi . founder & #1 fan of the oram hate club, town-locked against his will, would love nothing more than to never talk to anyone but they love to bug the hell out of him, only cares about joel because he's.. struggling pathetic

#indie rp #indie oc rp #indie supernatural rp #indie horror rp #indie bi rp #* & interaction call . #// idk what else to tag this but uh #// spare interactions for these silly goons

[dragons-and-dwarves-are-nice]

The Grim Reaper's Guide to Breaking Every Rule of the Universe /// Chapter 3

Ok so I decided to cut down the next chapter so I could get something out before I take a small break, but the next one is over hlaf-way done so it'll be out soon. Enjoy!

Summary: When touring America for the sake of it, you go to stay with your aunt in New Orleans for a while, taking up a peaceful part-time job restoring objects. But a few weeks in, a package arrives containing an old radio that's seen better days, along with a note seemingly written by someone who thinks they could fist-fight the Devil.

What you didn't know, was the hell of a path that was now set out in front of you. Not fist-fighting the Devil, but instead a very smug radio host who would have no problem spending the rest of his days driving you up the walls.

But two could play that game.

Tags: Demiromantic-Asexual Alastor x Demiromantic-Asexual OC/Reader - 1920s/30s New Orleans - fluff - angst - EXTREME slow burn - crack - Violence (It's Alastor what else)

Word Count: 5942

Warnings: Period-typical sexism, Period-typical attitudes towards neurodivergency, Swearing, Mentions of murder. MC'S RACE IS DEFINED DUE TO PLOT REASONS (also because she is based off my OC)

Taglist - comment or message to be added!

Now available on Wattpad and AO3 (please let me know if links aren't working)

< Chapter 2 // Chapter 3 // Chapter 4 >

PART 1: Chapter 3

I'd rather be unemployed.

Fimble-Famble (Definition): A really lame excuse for not wanting to do something. (Noun)

New Orleans, Louisiana, USA – Monday, 9th December, 1929.

“And he told me that we needed the money so I had to take it!” you cried as you slumped in the armchair.

Agnes gave you a look over the top of her glasses, the book she was reading now long forgotten since you stormed in that evening practically red in the face as you ranted to her about the whole radio fiasco. Knowing your tirade wasn’t over, she placed a bookmark between the pages and snapped the book shut, reaching over the arm to place it on the side table with a sigh.

“Well he is your boss.” She explained calmly, and you slumped down further, edging your sock-clad feet towards the fire. “If he believes you can do it, then I don’t see any reason as to why you can’t. Besides,” she gestured to the bag of books by your feet. “Those books he gave you are about radios for beginners – having that knowledge could open up further job opportunities for you.”

All you did was stare at the bag with a frown, before you kicked it over with a whiny grunt. Agnes sighed again.

“You’re going to get rude customers wherever you go, so when you’re the one representing the business, you be the better person and take the challenge calmly.” She pressed, peering over at you with a stern expression.

Silence.

She squinted slightly. “You.. did take it calmly, didn’t you?”

When you continued to narrow your eyes at the ground, she sighed, rubbing her forehead. “Christ, no wonder the twins grew up to be as crazy as they are.” She muttered. “Look, if Mr LeBlanc has asked you to take on this repair, and allowed you to take the pay for the extra labour hours, then I see no reason for you to refuse this man’s request – at least, not without cause.”

You sat up straight, prodding the cushioned arm with your finger. “Oh, I have cause. It is because I hate him!” You exclaimed.

Your aunt tilted her head, regarding you with a tired look. “My lovely, you’ve only had one conversation with him over the phone.”

You pouted, crossing your arms. “Two, if you count the letters.” You growled. “Besides, I think Ralph only told me to take the job ‘cause he knew the guy.” Agnes raised a brow. “I said it was a Mr A. Boudreaux, and he almost choked to death from coughing his lungs out. I told him he was rude to me but he just kept saying that I had to.”

“Did he say please?” she asked, a small knowing smile on her face.

“…Yes.”

“There you go.” Agnes concluded, reaching over to give your knee a few rough but assuring pats. “I don’t know who this Mr Boudreaux is, but if Ralph wants it done, then you can at least try. Besides, I’m off work until next Monday, so I’ll be home for a whole week to give you a hand if you need one – I know how those equations and diagrams make your head go all fuzzy.”

You sighed dejectedly, then gave your aunt a small smile. “Thank you. If anything, I’m doing it for this guy’s mum, not him.”

“Awww, at least he’s sweet to his mother.” She smiled, before turning towards the door and raising her voice slightly. “I do hope I get that treatment when I’m older!”

All she got was a loud farting noise echoing through from the other room.

New Orleans, Louisiana, USA – Friday, 13th December, 1929.

The patio double doors hung wide open as you laid your head on the kitchen table, staring at the technicolour marbling of the setting sun. Tools, wires and random pieces of springs laid scattered on the wooden surface around you, along with several books opened to pages of diagrams you had spent the last week trying to understand but to no avail. You had sent a letter on the Tuesday, informing Mr Boudreaux that your boss had decided that the radio would be taken on.

You refused to call him again, lest you face the humiliation of that faceless smug bastard as he found out that your boss had sent you back with your tail between your legs to tell him that you were in the wrong – something you adamantly avoided stating in your letter, instead half-hinting that Ralph had miraculously recovered overnight (he hadn’t), and took the project on personally (he didn’t do that either).

It also seemed that the good luck spell you and your aunt had performed that Monday evening worked - after you had collapsed on your imaginary chaise-longue and wailed to her about the dilemmas of the day, she had dragged you to her room, going on about how you hadn’t been keeping up with your practice for the last seven months. She made you bring your grimoire from your room, and you both spent around an hour resetting and cleansing energies, also setting up a small bowl of different herbs and trinkets that symbolised good luck, making you put it on your bedside table along with a new incense burner she had bought you. Honestly, if your aunt wasn’t around, you probably would’ve spontaneously combusted by Wednesday.

Agnes had also sat with you every evening, reading through the radio books, and slowly helping you work things out when the words started to blend together and you found yourself trying to read a paragraph as much as you could, but to no avail.

It was times like this when you wish you were back home, when everything was normal. When people weren’t giving lingering looks to your aunt as she traipsed about the village like every other innocent woman. When your uncle was telling you about his family and his way of living in Japan to his sons, and to you whenever you had the time to stop by. When you were treated as a well-respected, intelligent woman, who was freshly graduated from university at the top of her class. Not whatever those men had said to you when they came to your door after the local doctor had practically snitched on you. If only that dinner hadn’t happened. If only your aunt’s maid hadn’t gone snooping where she shouldn’t. Within a year everyone had been torn from each other.

But there wasn’t much time for mourning. You had less than two weeks to get this radio looking like it did when it was fresh off the shelf, otherwise you risk disappointing your boss for the first time ever, which would have you unconsciously doubting yourself for the rest of eternity.

Your head still on the table, you pinched a spring coil between your fingers, holding it up against the orange-purple sky as you glared at its silhouette. Rustling came from beside you as your aunt flipped the pages of the books, eyes flitting between them and the notes she was taking in her notebook.

You felt her glance at you a couple times, until there was a sound as she shifted, then silence. Feeling a finger tap your shoulder lightly, you slowly sat up to face her. She was facing you, an uneasy look in her eye as she took her time coming up with what to say.

“So..” she began hesitantly. “I understand your busy right now working full time at the shop, but since we got the news yesterday that Ralph was getting better, I was going to ask you,” she waved her hand about in thought. “If you’re going back to working only two days, would you consider looking for another job?”

You sat up straight, confusion clouding your face. “You want me to quit on Mr LeBlanc?”

“NO, no no!” she cried, waving her hands to dismiss the obvious miscommunication as she laughed nervously. “I meant look for a second job? I felt awful even thinking about asking you, but with the free time you’ll have, I just think it would make surviving this crash easier if we both had a steady wage coming in? I mean, as steady a wage that two women during this time an get.” She looked at her hands as she twisted them, hesitance and guilt written all over her face. “I want the boys to have a completed education, and it’ll crush me if I force myself to take that away from them.” She turned to you, trying her best to hide the tears threatening to build up. “I know you’re only here temporarily, and I’m not going to make you do anything you’re not comfortable doing, but –” she took a shaky breath. “as humiliating as it is, I need your help.”

Moments passed as you stared at the woman before you. The woman who used to be so full of life and love when she was surrounded by family – who loved the village she grew up in and the city she moved to – who loved the husband she fought tooth and nail to marry – now sat in a house in an unknown city she never asked to be in, a country she never asked to move to. Torn from her sister to an unknown place on the other side of the planet. All because her stupid maid couldn’t keep her stupid mouth shut.

Reaching your arm out, you grasped her hand with your own, waiting until she looked up at you, dark eyebags you never thought you’d see underlining her eyes like a curse. You knew she wasn’t sleeping enough.

“I’ll start looking tomorrow.” You stated quietly but firmly, squeezing her hand affirmingly.

Her eyes glistened as they widened, regarding you with a desperate hope, until she let out a loud sniffle and dropped her head onto your shoulder, trying her best to conceal her own shoulders as they jerked up and down slightly with her light sobs. Resting your head on top of hers, you both sat there in silence as you listened to the clock tick along with your aunt’s quiet sniffs as she attempted to calm herself.

“There’s an assistant’s job going down near the French Quarter.” She muttered. “I know the guy who runs the place and he said he would be happy to interview you?”

You perked up at her suggestion. “Ok, what kind of company is it?” Your aunt remained silent for a moment. “Agnes?”

“It’s a, uhhh… radio station.”

Jerking your head off hers, she quickly sat up as you gave her a deadpan expression.

“C’mon,” she pushed with a watery giggle. “I said you we’re learning how radios work for a repair, and he seemed excited that you would have some knowledge before you applied.”

“Unwanted knowledge.” You pressed. “He’s gonna have to offer a decent salary if he wants me to be within a ten mile radius of a radio ever again.”

Your aunt gave a throaty laugh in response. “Oh, don’t worry, I made sure of that before asking you. I can give him a call if you’re willing to interview?”

Making sure to let out a very long and tired sigh, you looked at you aunt’s pleading face, before slowly nodding. Letting out a cry of relief, she clapped her hands, then grabbed your face as she squished your cheeks, moving your head from side to side as she let out a string of ‘thank yous!’.

Eventually after her tirade of affection, she got up, flipping her twin plaits over her shoulders as she approached the sink, rinsing both of your mugs to make the fifth cup of tea that evening. You went to reach across the table for a book when your ears perked up at the sound of a small ‘psst’ from your right side.

Glancing over, your eyes landed on the archway that led into the hallway, and you were able to see all the way down to the front door from where you were sat, though half of your view was blocked by the underside of the stairs. Peering down the long hall, you leant back in your seat until a dark mop of hair peeked around the staircase banister.

Quickly flicking your eyes to Agnes, you made sure she was still facing the sink when you turned back to make eye contact with Ollie, who was precariously perched on the bottom step as he manoeuvred his upper body to curve around the wooden post to face you. Another mop of lighter hair joined him, as Allie stuck his head between the ceiling and the railing from where he was further up the stairs. Reaching one arm round and the other through the banister posts, Ollie began waving and pointing his fingers about, signing the most ridiculous gestures as he tried to convey a message.

‘What??’ you mouthed silently, frowning as you shook your head slightly in confusion.

At this, your cousin tried again, jabbing his fingers about a bit harder as he repeated the message.

You stared, eyes darting to the side then back again, and you simply shrugged. At this point Allie had thrown a dirty sock at his brother, and you barely heard him hiss at Ollie to make it simpler.

Rolling his eyes, Ollie shifted until he was fully facing you. With frustrated, wide eyes, he pointed at you. You nodded. Then pointed upstairs. You nodded again. Then jabbed his thumbs at his chest as he mouthed ‘my room’, then held his hand up with all of his fingers splayed out, ‘five minutes’ he said silently. Nodding once more, you watched as your cousin froze at the clatter of mugs as your aunt moved about, before quickly darting back round the banister, crawling on all fours as he soundlessly disappeared back up the staircase like some shadow creature along with his brother.

Sighing with a roll of your eyes, you returned back to the mess in front of you, thanking your aunt as she placed a fresh steaming mug of tea down. Picking it up, you bathed in the hot vapours rising from it before sticking your tongue out slightly to test the temperature. Quiet slurping sounded from beside you as your aunt returned to her seat, sipping from her own mug. Glancing at you, she placed it down to pick up a book.

“So,” she said as she casually turned a page. “What did the boys want?”

You took a large sip.

“No idea.”

--

Five minutes later, you took it as a well-earned break, trudging upstairs to see what the twins wanted to yap at you about.

“What’re you two up to now?” You sighed as you pushed open the door that had the sign saying ‘Ollie’s Room’ nailed to it. You looked up, only to stop in your tracks as your eyes landed on the two hunched over a very large corkboard, though, the cork was hardly visible with all the random pieces of paper, newspaper clippings and string pinned to it.

“Whaaaat is that?” You said slowly, brows furrowing as you stared at the board with wide eyes.

Ollie practically crawled his way over to the door, hands on the floor as he lifted a leg like a dog taking a piss, to kick it closed before scurrying back to his twin’s side, who was busy looping glittery wool string around another pin.

“A corkboard.” Allie simply said, not even bothering to look your way.

“I can see that.” You deadpanned, making your way over. “I’m asking what is on it. And specifically HOW you got pictures of dead bodies.” You pointed out, stepping closer to see the black and white photographs of body parts and corpses that you knew definitely shouldn’t be in the hands of your underage cousins. (Though they were 17 now, and clearly the closer they got to adulthood, the more excuses they had to do crap they weren’t allowed to.)

Allie snipped the end of the string, his voice lowering as he regarded you with a dark look. “If we told you, we’d have to kill you.”

“Not if I kill you first.” You hissed, raising a leg to kick him. “Explain.”

“Okayyyyy fine!” he whined, shuffling out of the way to avoid your attack with a pout. “The son of the Sheriff is in our class, and we pay him to enlarge photos from the crime scenes that are suspected to be the Bayou Butcher.”

Your mouth flung open. “You WHAT?!?!” You yelled.

Ollie swiftly raised his hand to cover your mouth. “Shush, if mum hears you, we’re all dead!”

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. Reaching your hand up, you slapped his away. “We’re all dead regardless!!” You hissed. “Has the thought crossed either of your microscopic brains that what you’ve done is, like – I don’t know – super illegal??”

“It’s fine.” Allie shrugged. “If we guess that someone is onto us, we burn the evidence.”

Your looked between the two of them with wide eyes. “What if mum finds it when you’re both at school? What then??”

Allie sighed. “She won’t find it. Promise.” He stretched his arm up to the top of the board, flipping it over to show another side with random drawings and knick-knacks pinned to it. “We just flip it over and stick it in the wardrobe.”

“What, and pray she doesn’t get the urge to do her usual chores and find it as she’s hanging up your washing??” You contradicted.

“Yea pretty much.” Ollie replied.

You glanced between them worriedly, shaking your head. “You two are treading on thin ice here.”

“Yea yea but we didn’t bring you here to moan about everything.” Interrupted Ollie. “What we were trying to say before you rudely changed the subject was that this was our theory board.”

“Your illegal theory board.” You poked, crossing your arms.

Allie simply frowned up at you from where he was knelt on the floor, and you sighed.

“Fine. I’m guessing it’s about the Bayou Butcher?” You asked, before scrunching your face. “Why am I even asking? Of course it is.”

“Yep.” Ollie replied, his demeanour now more excitable. “Every grisly murder that matches his M.O. – well – our idea of his M.O. Along with every newspaper article about him, and maps of places the bodies have been found.” He explained, pointing each thing out. “We’re currently trying to figure out a potential pattern, but to no avail at this point.” He turned to you with a determined look in his eye – something you should be seeing on an actual detective, NOT your dingbat of a cousin. “But we will. At some point.”

You nodded slowly, absorbing the information. “Ok, so, why am I here?”

They both looked at each other, before facing back to you.

“To help us.”

“Absolutely not.”

Allie pouted. “Aww c’mon! We thought you liked this sort of stuff?” he whined, gesturing at you.

“Yea, from an outsider’s perspective! Not when there’s a potential for the police to come after me! Hell, this Butcher guy could find out you’re onto him and come after you himself!”

They rolled their eyes. “Ok, mum. No need to get your knickers in a twist.” Jived Allie. “We can guarantee you, no-one’s gonna find out.”

You raised an eyebrow. “How, then?”

“By not being stupid?” Ollie said as if it was the most obvious thing.

You sighed, thinking to yourself for a moment. “…Fine.” You held a finger up when their faces brightened. “But if anything gets dangerous, I’m burning it all myself.”

They both nodded excitedly, beckoning you over as they began to explain everything.

You knew at some point they would both be the death of you.

--

New Orleans, Louisiana, USA – Monday, 16th December, 1929.

The sun was still yet to melt the snow when you walked into town with your aunt that morning, arms linked as to not slip on the compacted ice as you both tried to step onto the trams that were miraculously still running. Your arms remained linked as both made your way to a wide, busy street just off the outskirts of the French Quarter, about a twenty minute walk from where the antique shop was.

Mr LeBlanc has graciously given you the day off, as a thank you for running the shop. His cough had receded, and was determined to return to work. Though his wife insisted on joining him in the shop for a couple days to keep an eye on his health, despite his grumbling.

“I can assure you Mr Durham is lovely.” Agnes said with unwavering confidence as she patted your arm with a knitted glove. “The interview should be over in fifteen minutes or so – you’ll be in-and-out before you even realise it, so there’s no need to worry.”

You gave her a shaky smile. “Hopefully. Though I haven’t been in any interviews to know if it’ll go well.”

“It will.” She stated firmly. “Now, do you remember what we went over when answering interview questions?” You nodded, and she slowed you both to a stop. “Brilliant. We’re here.” She gestured up to a relatively tall building, the brickwork looming over you as the wall above the doors displayed the words ‘W.A.D RADIO’ in bright, white paint.

Peering up at the five-storey building, you felt nerves creep up your spine as you began to sweat slightly.

“Oi, look at me.” Muttered Agnes, reaching out to gently take your shoulders as she turned you to her. “No matter what happens in there, it’s not the end of the world, I can promise you that.” She assured. Glancing her eyes across your face, she reached up to straighten the simple blue cloche hat she had let you borrow. “There should be a receptionist at the front desk, just go in and tell her your name and that you’re here for an interview with Mr Durham, ok? I’ll be waiting out here for you.”

The air in your throat stuttered as you took a deep breath, your nervousness a stark contrast to the anger-fuelled confidence you had when answering that phoner. Nodding silently, you returned your Aunt’s smile before stepping away and pushing the door open, hoping the ‘Good Luck!’ she had whispered to you would give some assist.

--

You could sense the receptionist staring at you as you sat staring blankly at the tiles on the floor ahead. Picking the non-existent dirt from under your nails, you felt the sickening nerves in your stomach ease slightly when you had sat on the worn, leather-clad bench, the conversation with the woman at the desk having gone as smoothly as you could make it, luckily without your mind going blank or stuttering on any words.

“Where did’ya say you were from again?” You heard, and you raised your head to see the receptionist leaning on her elbows on the desk, chewing on a pencil as she looked you up and down. “You’re English, but’cha don’t sound quite like those gents on the radio?” she questioned, her slightly nasally voice cutting through the air as she bore you down with her gaze.

You blinked. “…I’m from the North-East.”

She furrowed her brows, the wood of the pencil clacking on her teeth. “North-East a’what?”

“Of England? You know there’s over forty different accents used in the UK, right?.” You explained.

She looked you up and down once again. “Huh.” Was all she said, before she shrugged her shoulders, turning back to the paperwork she was pointedly ignoring, and you returned to fiddling with your hands, now choosing to pick at any loose lint on the hat laid on your lap.

About five minutes later, the sound of shoes clicking against tile tapped against your ears, and you looked up to see a man donned in business attire round the corner. He was rather tall and large, but in a soft muscular kind of way. His murky brown waves fell loosely over his forehead, peppered with streaks of grey along with his thick beard, and he still retained the tan from the summer, but his pale shade of skin was starting to show through again, softening the piercing blue of his eyes.

Speaking of eyes, it didn’t take him a second to scan the room before they landed on you, the cerulean if his iris’ turning an almost baby blue under the lights as they brightened at the sight of you.

“Ah! There you are!” He exclaimed, arms spreading wide to welcome you. “I was wondering when your aunt would drop you off!” His white teeth glistened as he gave a handsome, warm smile. Approaching where you sat, you quickly stood to take his large, outstretched hand, the warmth from him enveloping your snow-frozen skin. “I’m Mr Durham, co-owner of Watson & Durham Radio.”

You could see why your aunt let him take her out for dinner.

--

“– and you’ll be here Wednesday to Friday, from what your aunt said on the phone.” Mr Durham rambled on. You had been interviewed in his office on the third floor, but he had insisted on taking you on a tour around the expansive building. At first, he showed you your potential desk, positioned just outside his office, facing the rows of other desks that spanned the large room ahead.

Now you were taking the stairs to the fifth floor – ‘where the magic happened’ – according to the spritely man.

“These are the radio booths – each host gets their own.” Mr Durham explained, gesturing down the wide corridor.

Strangely, his pace seemed to quicken as he led you past the windows, but you tried your best to peer into each one. Some were dark, as no-one was in. Others were presenting, the ‘ON AIR’ sign above their door glowing bright, the rest were either chatting amongst each other, or alone in their booths, scribbling down in notebooks or on sheets of paper.

“– David, Jeff, Al, Brian, and Ol’ Timmy are all here – ‘cept the rest who have the day off.” Mr Durham listed off, pointing out each man as he rushed you by. “Though-” he lowered his voice a little. “- if you take the job, it’s best we keep you on the third floor.” You furrowed your brows at his odd comment, to which he spotted, quickly giving an explanation. “The boys can be a bit of a distraction you see. Being on the radio means you have to be charismatic, and I want you to settle in comfortably before I introduce you. A few can be quite… nosey. And overwhelming – some more than others.” He muttered, glancing into one of the booths near the end, and you looked over to see the back of a man’s head, his hair styled neatly from what you could see, and you watched as he gently tapped his foot to whatever was playing through his headset whilst he jotted away in the notebook on his desk.

As Mr Durham’s large shadow cast across him, he began to turn his head, and you managed to catch a glimpse of a pair of thin glasses before you walked out of sight of the window.

Thinking nothing of it, you followed the boss round the corner at the end of the hallway, and he continued to tour you around the building, pointing out the odd thing or person here and there.

--

The chill of the winter air hit your face once again as you pushed the front door open, and you scanned the street for your aunt. Glancing to the spot where she left you, a frown crossed your face as you found it empty, but barely a moment passed until your name was called out, and you looked up across the street to see your aunt stood outside the door of a café, waving for you to come over.

Cursing out America for having their jaywalking laws, you quickly searched for a crossing, speed-walking as fast as you could over the road despite the slippery snow as you jogged up to your aunt.

“So? How did it go?” she breathed excitedly as she led you inside to a small table, where there was already a steaming cup of tea waiting for you.

Grasping the warm beverage in your hands, you relayed the events of the last half hour to the woman bouncing in her seat across from you.

“Ok, but, were you happy with what you saw?” Agnes asked once you had finished.

You nodded. “Yea, pretty much.” You answered. “That Durham guy was already talking about me settling in before he offered me the job.”

Her back straightened. “He did?? Did you accept?” She gasped.

Looking at her over the top of your cup, you felt a smile grow on your face. “Mhm, I start Wednesday.”

Your aunt threw her hands in the air. “Oh thank god!” Her eyes darted about in frantic thought. “Oh! We’ve got to go shopping for some proper work clothes for you! Mr Durham is quite flexible with workwear but we’ll still go.” She rambled, pulling a piece of paper and a pen out her purse to start jotting things down, mumbling under her breath. “There’s a shop down the main street, and you’ll be needing some smarter trousers –”

“Speaking of Mr Durham,” you interrupted with a small smirk, watching Agnes accidentally jerk her pen across the paper as her wide eyes looked up at you. “He seems oddly fond of you. He asked me how the twins were getting on at school before he asked for anything about me.”

She froze, and you raised a brow.

“It’s also not like you to let some guy take you out. For dinner.” You added.

She glanced away, then back at you, slowly placing her pen down as she chewed the inside of her cheek.

“It’s not like that –”

“Sure it’s not.”

She sighed your name in exasperation. “We’re both regulars at this café, and we met back in January and have been friends since. Happy?” She explained rather curtly.

You narrowed your eyes at her. “Do the twins know about him? You know how protective they are over you since their dad passed.” You questioned gently.

Agnes closed her eyes, raising her hand to rub at her forehead. “They know, but they haven’t met him yet. Even if it does end up being ‘like that’, it’s been almost a decade since we lost Hiro, and it gets hard trying to raise two very energetic boys and keep a steady roof over their heads.” She stared into her drink with a faraway look as she recalled her late husband. “This world wasn’t built for women to be alone, and as infuriating as that sounds, I’ve been backed into a corner so many times that I only see someone like him as my one ticket out.”

Silence stretched between the two of you, as you let the words your aunt spoke about your uncle sink in. She hardly ever spoke of Hiro, so mentioning him now meant how serious she was.

“Alright.” You said softly, and her head raised to look at you. “I know I have no place telling who you can and can’t talk to, but please make sure both the twins and you are happy and safe. The last thing I want is a repeat of these last two years.”

A dark shadow crossed her face. “Oh believe me, it won’t.” she assured in a low tone. “If I knew the police weren’t going to show, I would have strangled Beatrice before she stepped a foot out the house.”

Nodding, you sighed, finally relaxing back in your seat as a natural silence fell over the two of you. Bringing the tea to your lips, you bathed in the fumes, watching passersby as they fought against the onslaught of the oncoming blizzard, and pondered about the possibilities of your first day at the radio company that sat on the opposite side of the street. Eyes unfocused, you stared blankly at the double doors that led into the towering brick building, thinking about when spring would come round and you could start to wear your summer dresses, but you focused back in when the double doors opened, and you watched as a man stepped out.

You couldn’t see his face, as it was lowered against the wind, but you recognised the mop of neatly styled, dark, brown hair that you had spotted earlier, but that was quickly hidden by the fedora he placed on his head, and your eyes caught the light of his round glasses, as they glinted in the dying light of the cloud-smothered sun, before he turned his shiny heel and strode down the street, seemingly not at all worried about slipping on patches of icy, packed snow.

What caught your eye the most, though, was how insanely tall this man was, and you figured – even at your tall height – that the top of your head would barely reach his nose, even on your tiptoes.

(Though, there was always the option to jump up and collide your forehead with his – if the need arises, of course.)

Unfortunately for you, however, this lanky ladder of a man was crossing the street.

Right towards the café.

Right towards you.

And you were basically turned in your seat to stare the demons out of this guy.

The brim of his hat began to raise, and you practically spun on the spot, the tea in your mug sloshing about, and you came face to face with your aunt, who had clearly seen the one-sided staring match you had had with the stranger.

Feeling the eyes of the man boring into the side of your temple, as you assumed he had seen you move at the speed of light to avoid looking at him, you smiled sheepishly at Agnes, who was not-so-subtly darting her eyes between the two of you.

A few seconds ticked on by at the speed of a snail, and it wasn’t until you aunt muttered a ‘He’s gone’, that you felt yourself deflate in relief, slumping in your chair as you gingerly put the mug in your hands back down on the table. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw the back of the man’s trench coat as he carried on down the street out of sight, and you faced the woman in front of you.

“Sooo,” she began as she tried to hide the growing smile on her face. “Who’s that?”

“No clue.” You stated bluntly, eager to move the conversation along, lest your aunt turned into one of the women in your village, who would talk non-stop about their sons and grandsons when they found out you weren’t being courted. Or they would pester your mother about it. Either way, getting married was definitely not on your bucket list – and you wouldn’t be surprised if that lasted your whole life – you were quite satisfied with the thought of surrounding yourself with cats instead.

“Oh nuh-uh.” Agnes deadpanned, wagging a finger. “You don’t get to prod at me about men and not let me retaliate. Besides, Mr ‘No-Clue’ seemed an awfully pretty lad~”

You huffed. “Well I wouldn’t know, I’ve only clearly seen the back of his head, and according to Mr Durham,” you explained, lifting your hands to count on your fingers. “His name could be either David, Jeff, Al, Brian, or Ol’ Timmy.”

She raised a brow at you. “He looked like a David. Either way.” She smirked. “Your mum wouldn’t mind having someone like him as her son-in-law.”

You pouted. “Agnes, please.”

All your aunt did was laugh.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Gonne be uploading some art of MC soon >:))))

I hope you've enjoyed what I've given you so far, see you soon for Chapter 4!!

Please let me know if you want to be added to the Taglist!

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#alastor #alastor x reader #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor fanfic #alastor x you #alastor x oc

[anxietyfluffy]

SOO i redid Faye and Afshin's designs so I decided to post a little lineup of my 4 main ocs in no order!! I love them to bits <3 (i have tortured them repeatedly) from left to right we got: Faye Boudreaux, A carpenter originally from Jazz Town, who now lives in White peaks with her two boyfriends Duncan Young & Vincent Watchbird(Atlas's OC!) Aliah Khan, An Aboriginal-Australian(specifically Arrernte) detective in 1898-1899, solving murders with the Concordia and having a secret affair with a certain consultant Brutus Arroyo-Khan, the descendant of Aliah, and my main detective of the series and the chief of my Season 9 au, CC Down Under! Afshin Ibrahim, the Afghan chief of another Pacific Bay Police Department! If you wanna know more about them, don't be afraid to ask because I'd love to ramble about themm :D

#criminal case #criminal case ocs #put my blood sweat and tears into their designs #to the point i get teased for how much i always have to tweak the sprites to fit my ideas UFEYWGUFWE

[starrysnowdrop]

Hali Aloke

Just the Basics

B A S I C S

Name: Hali Aloke

Nicknames: Little Star (Her family’s pet name for her) and Snowdrop (Aymeric’s pet name for her)

Age: 29 as of beginning of Dawntrail

Nameday: 31st Sun of the 2nd Umbral Moon (April 29th)

Race: 3/4 Lalafell, 1/4 Hyur; Appears Dunesfolk, but has both Plainsfolk and Dunesfolk blood, along with 1/4 Midlander Hyuran ancestry

Gender: Female, Cis

Orientation: Bisexual/Biromantic, Male Leaning

Profession: Adventurer and Scion of the Seventh Dawn

P H Y S I C A L A S P E C T S

Hair: Bright, rose pink in color, straight, usually looks somewhat messy in a wide variety of hairstyles

Eyes: Large, wide, expressive seafoam green eyes that shine in the light; glass-like Dunesfolk eyes

Skin: Fair, and absolutely will burn with direct sun exposure for long periods of time

Tattoos/scars: No tattoos; For scars, just small ones here and there over the years from battle

F A M I L Y

Parents: Father is Taito Aloke, a Plainsfolk lalafell aged 50 in ARR, and Mother is Lalani Lani, a 1/2 Dunesfolk lalafell 1/2 Midlander Hyur aged 48 in ARR. Both Taito and Lalani are researchers in Labyrinthos and members of the Sharlayan Forum.

Siblings: None

Grandparents: Nanani Nani, Maternal Grandmother, a Dunesfolk lalafell aged 75 in ARR and Jovian Carraway, Maternal Grandfather, a Midlander Hyur, deceased by ARR. Nanani is a retired Gleaner living in Old Sharlayan and is a widow to Jovian, who was an Astrology Professor at the Studium.

In-laws and Other: All in-laws deceased; Hali has distant relatives in Thanalan that have no current contact with Hali’s close family

Children: None; Will have three children with Aymeric in the distant future

Pets: An alligator named Boudreaux who also serves as Hali’s mount, a crab named Beignet, and Aymeric’s black cat named BonBon.

S K I L L S

Abilities: Astromancy, Divination, Dancing, Singing, Cooking, Fishing, and Botany

Hobbies: Cooking, Fishing, Botany, Swimming, Ice Skating, Going to the Theater, Attending Balls, Dancing, Singing, Reading fairytales and adventure books, and Playing card games

T R A I T S

Most Positive Trait: Hali is hope incarnate. No matter how grim a situation might seem, she wholeheartedly believes that things will get better. She tries to have a smile on her face and spread her positive outlook on life wherever she goes. Hali thinks that her hope is probably the only reason she’s still alive after so many years on the battlefield.

Most Negative Trait: Hali sees the best in everyone except for herself. She’s very insecure about herself, especially in terms of her appearance and her self worth. She doesn’t see that Aymeric could ever possibly love her the way that she loves him, and she doesn’t think she could ever be good enough for him. Even after they are officially together, Hali still struggles with being kind to herself.

L I K E S

Colors: Midnight Blue, Lotus Pink, Pure White, Celeste Green, and Lavender Purple

Smells: Ocean breezes, salty sea air, scent of fresh fallen rain, flowers of any kind, and musky cologne

Textures: Rain and/or snow falling on her skin, warm water, fluffy pillows, warm blankets, soft plushies, and Aymeric’s hands and/or mouth on her skin

Drinks: Strawberry Lemonade, Fruit Smoothies, Boba Tea, Pink Drink, Hot or Iced Chai, Hot Chocolate with lots of marshmallows

O T H E R D E T A I L S

Smokes: Never

Drinks: Only drinks wine and certain kinds of cocktails, but tries to only drink when she’s not busy with her Scion duties the next day, as she is a lightweight and gets drunk easily.

Drugs: Never

Mount Issuance: Hali was never given a chocobo, because she said she didn’t need one! She always used a magical umbrella that allowed her to float above the ground and fly her to wherever she needed to go. Later on, Hali found her pet alligator Boudreaux on her Island Sanctuary and she rides him most of the time now.

Been Arrested: Yes, Hali was arrested for being a fugitive that snuck back into Old Sharlayan after being banished for helping to bring Sharlayan Astromancy to the Eorzeans. She was found sneaking around Labyrinthos in order to discover the secret project that her parents were hiding from the public at large.

Tagged by: @eriyu @paintedscales @elliewiltarwyn @amalthea-felsblood and @zerelth Thank you all so much for thinking of me!! I apologize for taking so long in responding! 🥰

Tagging: @meepsthemiqo @traveler-of-light @reikatsukihana @mimble-sparklepudding @faerieearthangel and anyone else who hasn’t been tagged yet that would like to fill this out! Please tag me so I can read about your OCs!! 💖

#just the basics #character profile #character info #hali aloke #oc: drops of jupiter

[legit9thlunaticwarrior]

prompt list 21 — 3. "When I find the motherfucker who broke your heart, I'm breaking their nose." w/ tyler

prompt list 21 *drabble*

you had gone out on a couple dates with parker boudreaux and thought he really liked you the way you him; until you found him saying he only wanted to hit it and quit it to his mogul embassy buddies. you ran and found yourself knocking continuously, and albeit loudly, on the door to the locker room the hardy's, isiah, and tyler. tyler had opened the door and couldn't believe his eyes: your eyes and cheeks red and swollen from crying, smudgy makeup, and tear streaks; you were seemingly out of breath from wherever you ran from. he didn't say a word. he pulled you in and sat on the couch with you. the other three men slipped out so you'd be alone. tyler wrapped his arms around you and smoothed out your hair in an attempt to calm you. "he, he-" was all you could choke out through your sobs. "when i find the motherfucker who broke your heart, i'm breaking their nose." he mumbled loud enough for you to hear. you sniffled "you can beat parker up later. tyler, just please stay with me?" tyler kissed the top of your head "of course, buzzy. i'm right here."

~~~~~~~

lovely taglist babes (form in pinned post) @josiewrites @slut4kennyomega @xkennyxomegax @wwenhlimagines @plentyoffandoms @auburnwrites @1rsolideranna @sunshinevirus @sultryfandoms @alexisquinnlee-bc @im-just-a-mississippi-girl @eddiefrickenmunson @taterthetronado @summertimefun1982 @niknakbucks92 @roseflowerbed12 @omg-im-such-a-masochist @daddyhausen

#donna writes #donna is in love with hook #hook #tyler senerchia #hook drabble #aew hook imagine #aew x reader

[kemetic-dreams]

1938 - PAULINE JOHNSON and FELICE BOUDREAUX, sisters, were once slaves on the plantation of Dermat Martine, near Opelousas, Louisiana. As their owners were French, they are more inclined to use a Creole patois than English.

"Us was both slaves on de old plantation close to Opelousas," Pauline began. As the elder of the two sisters she carried most of the conversation, although often referring to Felice before making positive statements.

"I was 12 year old when freedom come and Felice was 'bout six. Us belonged to Massa Dermat Martine and the missy's name Mimi. They raise us both in the house and they love us so they spoil us. I never will forget that. The little white chillen was younger than me, 'bout Felice's age. They sho' had pretty li'l curly black hair.

"Us didn't have hard time. Never even knowed hard time. That old massa, he what you call a good man.

"Us daddy was Renee and he work in the field. The old massa give him a mud and log house and a plot of ground for he own. The rain sho' never get in that log house, it so tight. The furniture was homemake, but my daddy make it good and stout.

"Us daddy he work de ground he own on Sunday and sold the things to buy us shoes to put on us feet and clothes. The white folks didn't give us clothes but they let him have all the money he made in his own plot to get them.

"Us mama name Marguerite and she a field hand, too, so us chillen growed up in the white folks house mostly. 'Fore Felice get big enough to leave I stay in the big house and take care of her.

"One day us papa fall sick in the bed, just 'fore freedom, and he kep' callin' for the priest. Old massa call the priest and just 'fore us papa die the priest marry him and my mama. 'fore dat they just married by the massa's word.

"Felice and me, us have two brothers what was born and die in slavery, and one sister still livin' in Bolivar now. Us three uncles, Bruno and Pophrey and Zaphrey, they goes to the war. Them three dies too young. The Yankees stole them and make them boys fight for them.

"I never done much work but wash the dishes. They wasn't poor people and they uses good dishes. The missy real particular 'bout us shinin' them dishes nice, and the silver spoons and knives, too.

"Them white people was good Christian people and they christen us both in the old brick Catholic church in Opelousas. They done torn it down now. Missy give me pretty dress to get christen in. My godmother, she Mileen Nesaseau, but I call her 'Miran'. My godfather called 'Paran.'

"On Sunday mornin' us fix our dress and hair and go up to the missy's looking-glass to see if us pretty enough go to church. Us goes to Mass every Sunday mornin' and church holiday, and when the cullud folks sick massa send for the priest same's for the white folks.

"We wears them things on the strings round the neck for the good of the heart. They's nutmeg.

"The plantation was a big, grand place and they have lots of orange trees. The slaves pick them oranges and pack then down on the barrel with la mosse (Spanish moss) to keep them. They was plenty pecans and figs, too.

"In slavery time most everybody round Opelousas talk Creole. That make the words hard to come sometime. Us both talk that better way than English.

"Durin' the war, it were a sight. Every mornin' Capt. Jenerette Bank and he men go a hoss-back drillin' in the pasture and then have drill on foot. A white lady take all us chillen to the drill ground every mornin'. Us take the lunch food in the basket and stay till they done drill out.

"I can sing for you the song they used to sing:

"O, de Yankee come to put de nigger free,

Says I, says I, pas bonne;

In eighteen-sixty-three,

De Yankee get out they gun and say,

Hurrah! Let's put on the ball.

"When war over none the slaves wants leave the plantation. My mama and us chillen stays on till old massa and missy dies, and then goes live on the old Repridim place for a time.

"Both us get marry in that Catholic church in Opelousas. As for me, it most too long ago to talk about. His name Alfred Johnson and he dead 12 years. Our youngest boy, John, go to the World War. Two my nephews die in that war and one nephew can't walk now from that war.

"Felice marry Joseph Boudreaux and when he die she come here to stay with me. There's more hard time now than in the old day for us, but I hope things get better.

#african #afrakan #kemetic dreams #africans #brownskin #afrakans #brown skin #slaves #slave pic #alfred johnson #new orleans #catholic church #PAULINE JOHNSON #FELICE BOUDREAUX

[mediocrevideopodcast]

How about Serafine reacting to the reader proposing to her?

I had a lot of fun with this one! Set of HC's, with a little drabble in-between 🖤 Thank you so much for the request!! 🖤

Pairing: Serafine Savoy/Reader (GN)

Content Warnings: Typical Serafine shenanigans, otherwise none!

Serafine Savoy has been described as many things. Hatchetman, bearcat, witch. But not once has she ever been described as a romantic. 

So if Serafine is with you in the first place… well, it ought to be taken as a point of pride.

Sure, she's had her flings in the past. Plenty of them. But not once has she been in anything long-term. No one's held her interest enough, and no one has ever been able to keep up with her. To even be in a relationship with her in the first place, you must have something special about you. Something that her Maitre Carrefour likes, too. If you've gotten this far, she's certainly a ride-or-die. 

But marriage? Marriage is a whole separate thing. 

She never had the chance to think about marriage as a child. The vague and distant memories of her parents didn't leave a good lasting impression on the concept, and she always found the concept of a ceremony to be, well… boring.

But when the idea of marriage comes up… she gives it thought. 

A lot of which are conflicting. 

She lives an extravagant life -- the closest she's ever been to "settling down" is during the congregation's parties. But that's how she likes it. The adrenaline is what keeps her going, that destructive devotion to the higher power that saved her life is what keeps the blood flowing through her veins. Rifle recoil, ringing ears, and bloody hands are just as important to her as food and water. She couldn't settle down even if she wanted to. 

So really, you can't blame her for wondering: Why? She couldn't be some white picket fence wife, could never give you that life. She can't settle down. And isn't that what marriage is supposed to be about? Settling down? 

But that's the thing: You don't ask her of that. 

You don't ask her to change, to move into some suburban house and leave her life behind. 

You want to marry her because you love her.

You love her. 

Dust and gunpowder settle in the air, heavy with the weight of the shootout just moments before. Serafine laughs, taking your hand as the two of you step through the carnage -- poor bastards couldn't tell the difference between a life and a pretty penny, and in the end it cost them both. You'd say it was a shame, but the adrenaline of a firefight has started to grow on you. 

You'll have to lodge a complaint with the Savoys someday. You can't say you're unhappy, though. Quite the opposite, in fact. 

You look forward at the woman leading you toward the door, admiring her black curls as they start to fall loose from her tight bun. And yet her suit is still unmarred, not a single rip or tear despite the flurry of bullets and claws that had been flying toward the two of you just moments before -- perpetually divine, you've always said. But then your eyes trail further, to your conjoined hands. Little specks of gunpowder dust her hands -- Boudreaux does pack quite a punch after all. 

"Hey, come here" you tug her back gently, squeezing her hand, "Mordecai will have a conniption if we track anything back." 

"Ah, mesye fastidieux," she smiles, "Maitre Carrefour must have chosen quite the path for him. Couldn't have survived a day in the bayou."

You chuckle to yourself, pulling your handkerchief from your pocket to wipe down her hands -- all too aware of the extra weight in your coat. Her hands are soft in your own, even after all these years. 

"Quite the path indeed." 

You look up from your task, catching Serafine's gaze -- Amber eyes already locked on you. Tender, even in the afterglow of such an adrenaline rush. You breathe, shakily, velvet box suddenly feeling like lead. No better time than now. 

"Our path seems rather clear, though." You squeeze her hands, tucking away the cloth before dropping to one knee. Your heart leaps as you watch her face process your actions, eyebrows raising and eyes widening. She stiffens for a moment, but squeezes your hands back. You take yet another shaky breath when she doesn't tell you to rise, and push forward. 

"He doesn't talk to me like he does to you, but I see the fork that he's placed before us. Serafine Savoy, I have no idea what I would do without you. I am changed, wholly and truly, for the better from meeting you. From loving you. Each moment apart is agony, only made bearable with the knowledge that it's only so long before I can return to you. And if you'll have me…" 

You pull the velvet box from your pocket, exposing the shiny gold ring. Her breath hitches, slackjawed for the briefest of moments before smiling. Her eyes crinkle, eyes half lidded as she gazes down at you. 

"...I'd like to dance on the crossroads for you for the rest of my life. Serafine Savoy… will you marry me?"

"Oh, cher," she coos, cupping your face, "You already have me." 

You hop the broom with the congregation at the Maribel in the morning, exchange your vows, and dance until the sky fades to black. But that's where tradition gives out, and your true selves start to shine through

Instead of walking down the aisle the two of you drive down the St. Louis strip, leaving torched cars and fire in your wake in place of rice and flowers. But your joy and laughter rings out all the same, and when the streetlights glint off of your conjoined hands -- stolen gold rings glimmering in the night -- she finds herself smiling brighter than ever before. 

#lackadaisy x reader #serafine savoy x reader #lackadaisy serafine x reader #lackadaisy imagine #lackadaisy imagines

[usafphantom2]

Was TEB used during the infamous “unstarts”? I would love it if my experts could answer this one. Two SR 71 pilots responded :

TEB was used to start the engines and to light the afterburners. There was no need to use TEB to recover from an UNSTART because it’s the inlet that has unstarted. However there are times when an unstart will cause the afterburner to go out so after recovering the inlet from the unstart, sometimes you had to deselect and re-select throttle in the AB position to relight the afterburner.

The most common misunderstanding is people hearing the term: UNSTART and assuming the engine is no longer running and has to be restarted. I’m sure it may have happened but I’ve never heard of a J-58 that stopped running due to an UNSTART.

So, unless the Afterburner needed to be relit, TEB was NOT needed to recover from the unstart condition. Started means a condition of inlet developing thrust, unstart means the inlet (repeat: inlet NOT engine) is no longer producing thrust. TEB not needed to recover from unstart.~Stormy Boudreaux

TEB had nothing to do with unstarts unless a secondary condition occurred. That would be afterburner blow out or engine flame out which was very rare.occasionally if a burner blew out it would take a throttle cycle for a shot of TEB to restart it. If the engine flamed out, even more rare the restart procedure required a throttle cycle thus a shot of TEB.~David David Peters

@Habubrats71 via X