#shes the murder bug oc i had a while back

[dragons-and-dwarves-are-nice]

The Grim Reaper's Guide to Breaking Every Rule of the Universe /// Chapter 2

Bruh. My back is HURTING from being hunched over my laptop lol. For some reason I've managed to shit out this next chapter at the speed of light, but I'm back at uni and deadlines are picking up so I can't guarantee another one for a couple weeks. ANYWAY - ALASTOR HAS FINALLY MADE AN APPEARANCE. Not in person yet, but he's here (in spirit). I also apologise to anyone not from Yorkshire, I've used some of our slang from there and it may not make sense, but MC's embracing her Northener crave for violence.

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: 6800

Warnings: Period-typical sexism, Period-typical attitudes towards neurodivergency, Swearing, Descriptions of murder and dismemberment. 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 1 // Chapter 2 // Chapter 3 >

PART 1: Chapter 2

Another box for my trinkets it's trinketville.

Meraki (Definition): To put something of yourself into your work. (Noun)

New Orleans, Louisiana, USA – Thursday, 7th November, 1929.

The first four months of your new apprenticeship had you thriving more than ever before since arriving in the US. The last time you had felt this joyous and satisfied you were nearly eighteen, the tickle of the long grass on your cheeks as you laid in the meadow at the height of spring, holding the bunch of wildflowers against the kaleidoscopic swirls of the evening tones of the sky above you, admiring the way the lowering sun hit the petals and the small bugs that floated around with its golden highlights. It was one of the few times you had managed to bring your racing mind to a stand-still; no voices; no random lines of songs in your head playing on replay; no worries about the chores you were procrastinating or the book your friend had recommended weeks ago that you were yet to touch. You remembered the feeling of the summer dress you wore, the texture of the leather messenger bag beside you gifted by the old woman who lived further down the lane of the village. She used to babysit you when your parents would travel to York days at a time for work or personal errands. You loved to skip down that lane, with your hand running along the rough stones of the ancient stone walls that lined the lanes of your little village you had spent your whole life in – also lining your mind with the cuts it gave you as you tried to climb over them with the twins over the years.

The routine of working at the repair shop had brought the blissful feeling of stability back, the hectic frenzy of travelling from hotel room to hotel room, checking your tickets a thousand times to make sure you were on the correct train platform, then checking again. You no longer had to worry about travel dates that would leave you feeling paralysed from doing anything else.

Mr LeBlanc had been an excellent teacher and manager, drilling skills into your mind since you stepped into the shop for your starter shift. It was certainly an experience: opening the double doors to a vintage collector’s dream, an antique emporium filled from floor to ceiling (and on the ceiling). Ralph had brought you behind the counter, to a room in the back that he gleefully revealed to be concealed by a door disguised as a bookshelf. The workshop hidden behind was every antique restorer’s sanctuary, and it was certainly yours. Drawers lining the walls filled with every tool that could file, chip away, or apply anything you could find. In the centre was a large wooden table – thick, sturdy planks covered in chips and splatters of paint and adhesives used over the years. This table would be the place you would spend the next four months, your hair tied back by a patterned silk bandana, Ralph showing you how to work with materials from wood to porcelain, metal to textiles. You would pour over books you had pulled from Mr LeBlanc’s bookshelves until late into the evening, until he sent you home with them in your bag, and you protected them with your life as you returned on the trams (or ‘streetcars’, as Americans called them) in the evening light.

Every Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday, he taught you everything he could, and you absorbed it all at the speed of light, your mind soaking up every piece of information like a dry sponge. By month three you had been given the go ahead to work on your first object from a customer – a small, spindly regency era chamber table belonging to a local gentleman. All it needed was some chips to be filled and repolishing, allowing Ralph to be confident enough in your abilities to complete it correctly. Your results came out on top, both Ralph and the customer being satisfied with your work, and you received the praise gleefully, along with the hefty tip the gentleman handed you over the counter. To you, everything was going fine and dandy.

Until October hit.

Apparently there were plenty of warning signs, according to most. They knew this was coming, your aunt knew this was coming. It was what she had said when you sat with her on the steps of the front porch.

“Shops are going to start disappearing.” She said, keeping her gaze ahead as she watched the cars sputter by. “With the rate this is going, I’m going to have to pull the boys out of school and get them working – I can’t keep the walls of this house up by myself.”

It had sent chills down your spine when you had picked up a newspaper, the words ‘Wall Street’ and ‘Stock Market Crash’ staining the pages for weeks. You put your mind and body into helping Mr LeBlanc, desperate for him to keep his business up and running. Unfortunately, as prices dropped, less people wanted to splurge the extra cash on something nice and antique, so you both lowered prices where you could, even going to lengths to hammer fliers to every street-post that advertised restoration jobs for any household item, promising customers that they would save money on repairs instead of buying it new.

It worked more than you thought, and it brought in enough income for Ralph to scratch by. He was also grateful you hadn’t asked for a raise to cope with the financial crisis, flat-out refusing when he had tried to hand you some tips he had received.

It was just the beginning of December when Ralph had called the house phone as you were getting ready for work. Ollie had yelled up the stairs to tell you and you scrambled down in your work trousers with your nightgown still on. Grabbing the phone, you listened to a raspy Mr LeBlanc as he told you he had falling ill with the usual winter flu. Unfortunately, being 63 meant that he was more susceptible to the illness, and was unsure if he would recover. If he did, it would still take a while, so he had asked you that morning if you were capable of running the shop solo. You had instantly said yes, refusing to let any sidetrack be his business’s downfall, so, with your head held high, you walked to his house, picking up any essential documents that he said you would need, and kept the shop up and running to the best of your abilities.

New Orleans, Louisiana, USA – Friday, 6th December, 1929.

It was the Friday of the first week of December when you were an hour away from closing. You had been lucky that it had been pretty quiet the last few days, allowing you to settle into working your first ever Monday to Friday and getting to know the everyday things that were essential to keep the doors open. You had brought an armchair behind the counter – the gap between the counter and the wall was spacey enough for you to fit the chair and a small side table.

After not seeing any customers for over an hour, you had wandered off to the small side kitchen hidden by a Persian rug hung over the doorway to fetch yourself a warm cup of tea and a slice of carrot cake that Agnes had slipped into your lunch bag that day. Returning to the front, you placed the food and beverage on the side table, and sank into the chair, propping your feet up and delving into the book you had bought a few months ago.

Your eyes were drooping by the time you finished the tea and cake, and you rested your head on the back of the cushion, lowering your eyelids shut but remaining awake, knowing you had to get up soon in order to close in a half hour. Though the sudden sound of the shop’s bell chiming had you shooting out of your seat like a cat on a hot tin roof.

Scrambling to your feet, you scooted over to plop yourself on the counter stool, fixing yourself to look as presentable as possible as you faced the person entering. It was the mailman, stomping his boots to rid of the snow from the mild blizzard outside on the shoe rug by the door whilst holding a semi-large parcel under his arm. You recognised him from his rounds of the area, normally dropping off the odd parcel here and there for Ralph. Making sure the curls you had pressed into your hair overnight weren’t flattened at the back, you straightened out the silk scarf tied round the front of your head, flicking a curl out of your eye, and faced the man with a warm smile, to which he returned. He was a tall, young looking lad, older than you, but youth still shone in his eager eyes as he approached you.

“Afternoon ma’am,” he greeted, tipping his snow patterned hat. “I apologise for the snow on the floor, m’fraid the storm doesn’t seem to be letting up anytime soon.”

You waved him off, assuring that you were going to be cleaning up soon anyway. He inquired about Mr LeBlanc’s whereabouts, and you explained that his illness wasn’t letting up any time soon.

“Shame,” he said. “I know you’re probably not getting overrun, but it still must be complicated being a young woman running someone else’s business – especially near Christmas, having to trek home in the cold and wet by yourself.”

“Oh, it’s quite alright.” You laughed with a shake of your head, trying to not let your frustration show at the thought of him doubting your skills because of your gender. “He’s given me everything I need, and I can deal with the weather just fine. Wet and cold is the norm where I’m from.” Changing the subject, you gestured to the half-damp parcel still under his arm. “Is that addressed to Ralph or the shop?”

As if suddenly remembering the reason he was here, he quickly hauled the parcel from under his arm and slid it onto the counter.

“It’s for the shop.” He explained, gesturing a gloved hand to it. “S’pose it’s a last minute repair for a Christmas gift or somethin’.”

Placing your hands on either side, you slid the large square box towards you. Standing up from the stool, you peered at the top. Brushing off the half-melted snow, you read the handwriting that ornately spelled out the address - this was probably another repair.

The parcel itself was probably the neatest you had ever seen anything wrapped. The parcel paper was thick and expensive, the water and snow running off without leaving any trace behind except for a slight sheen, and the edges were folded so crisp and perfectly shaped and flat you wondered if whoever had wrapped it was human. Tied round like a present was a thick twine, looping into a bow directly in the middle of the top. You admired the dedication of whoever had put in the time to wrap this, running your fingers over the corners only to jerk them back slightly as the folds were so sharp they felt like they were slicing at your skin.

Looking back at the mailman, you thanked him for the delivery, and hoped him safe travels back home. Tipping his hat at you, he turned away with a farewell, and the bell chimed again when he opened the door, dipping his head against the wind as he faded into the white wall outside.

When the howling wind finally allowed the door to shut, you began the closing routine, knowing that there wouldn’t be anyone else today with the severity of the weather outside. After locking the exits and pulling the shutters closed and the blinds down, you kept the shops lanterns on as you lifted the hefty parcel with a grunt and shuffled through the hidden doorway into the workshop.

Sliding it onto the table, you got to work opening it up, pulling the twine bow free and taking some small hand-held shears to slice open the glued down folds to reveal a cardboard box.

Pulling the thick brown paper and twine out from underneath, you chucked them onto the other workbench pushed against the wall to the right. Placing the shears down, you pushed your fingernails between the gap of the serrated cardboard and swung the flaps open. Inside was a lot of loose cotton wool, and you reached in, removing the protective layer and chucking it onto the table whilst simultaneously thanking whoever had spent their time padding the box out. This uncovered a semi-large shape swaddled in a maroon-coloured knitted blanket, and you reached your arms in deep to wrap around the object and haul it out.

Laying it on the table, you pushed the box and wool out of the way, and gently began unwrapping the blanket, mindful that some repair jobs may start out with several shattered pieces that you certainly didn’t want to accidentally drop an lose amongst everything. Coming to the final layer, your nails slotted through some of the holes of the knitting and clacked against what sounded like solid wood, and slipping the material off, you had your first look at your new potential project.

It was an old radio. Well, not that old, considering radios had only been in circulation for a decade or so, but it was one of the earlier models, the features you recognised from when you visited the county Mayor’s house when you were in your early teens. It was shaped with a resemblance to a cathedral arch, the wood panelling around the edge looking like pillars that began swirling and spiralling into gothic patterns the closer you got to the top. These patterns decorating the fine grated material that covered the speaker, and a few dials were situated on the bottom half, and you immediately noticed one was missing.

Pulling a stool over, you sat down to get a closer look, and you noted down the damages that came to light. It had obviously been looked after over the years, but, as always, people are prone to accidents, and this radio seemed to have gone through a few. Apart from the dial that was missing, there was a large split down one side, between two of the panels, and scratches and slight dents from where it had obviously been dropped. Grabbing your notebook, you jotted down your initial observations, before diving your hands into the left over cotton in the box to search for anything that could assist you.

To your luck, you found a small linen bag about the size of your palm, that you untied to reveal the missing dial and a few pieces of wood that had come off in some areas. Returning to your notes, you were just about to start a proposal form for treatment when something caught your eye. Looking over to the blanket you had put to the side, your eyes landed on a fancy looking envelope.

Reaching over, your fingers clasped around the paper, the material just as thick and expensive feeling as the parcel wrap, and you brought it towards you, careful not to elbow anything in the process, because if they could afford fancy radios and paper during this crisis, then they certainly were expecting you to repair this with equally expensive standards. Holding the paper up you read the loopy handwriting on the front of the envelope:

To  the Owner.

Turning it over, you pried the even fancier wax seal apart as gently as you could as to not ruin the paper, and opening the flap, you reached in to slide out a folded piece of parchment. Unfolding it, you began to read the matching, loopy words.

---

December 4 th, 1929

Dear Owner,

I do hope this package finds you well. I am delivering this fine radio to be repaired at your establishment, as it belongs to my dear Mother and I would be overjoyed to have it completed in time for Christmas. Unfortunately, it has suffered its fair share of drops and bumps, but from what I have heard from others in our beloved city, you should be able to do an excellent job. The outside is obvious with what needs to be done, but there are areas within the interior mechanics that require some repairs. Now, I would take it to the radio shop, but the man who owns it is oh-so unpleasant, and would take weeks to be returned.

I am sure you would be happy to take on this challenge, for my mother’s sake, and that you will do a splendid job.

Regards,

Mr A. Boudreaux

---

You blinked. Then furrowing your brows, you read it again. And again. Did this guy want you to not only fix up the look of his mum’s radio, but magically know the ins and outs of radio technology? You shook your head, then did a quick once-over of the words scrawled onto the page. Yep, he wanted you to do a Frankenstein and completely resurrect the old thing.

Placing you elbow on the table, you rested your chin on your palm as you stared at the wall covered in tool across the room. There was no way you could do this, not without Mr LeBlanc still ill – though even if he was here, you didn’t know if he had any knowledge on radios. Sighing, you rubbed at your face tiredly, not caring if you smudged the mascara on your lashes, it wasn’t like anyone was going to walk in on you with panda eyes anyway. Letting out a prolonged groan, you came to the final decision of what to do.

Trudging back into the shop, you quickly made yourself another cup of tea, before snatching some of the letter paper and an envelope from under the counter. Slumping back onto the stool in the workshop, you placed the paper in front of you whilst reaching into one of the drawers attached to the table to grab a pen, then, taking a moment to think of what you were going to say, you began writing.

---

December 6 th, 1929

Dear Mr Boudreaux,

Thank you for your enquiry. As much asI would love to fulfil your request, there are some issues regarding certain stages of the repairs. Mr LeBlanc, who owns the company, has taken ill this last week, and it is not yet known when he will recover, and I am the only member of staff he has employed at the moment. Unfortunately, I am not experienced in radio mechanics, and strongly advise that you come and collect the radio and take it to be repaired at a radio shop.

The radio can be returned here for outer repairs, but I am afraid that is the only option I can offer you at this time. The radio will be ready for you to collect from 9am on Monday morning. I do apologise for the inconvenience.

Regards,

---

Signing the first letter of your name, along with you surname, you read over what you had written. Satisfied, you sealed it in the envelope and got to work wrapping the radio back up. Quickly taking a candle, you took a peek in between the crack in the wood, the light shining on the innards. You definitely had no chance of fixing that, if the absolute mess of dislodged coils, wires and metal pieces inside said anything. Reluctantly you placed it back in its box wrapped up and padded with the cotton, before taping it up and re-glueing the parcel paper and twine back in place. It was a shame that you had to reject the request, the payment for the repair would have benefited you and Ralph quite a bit, and it made you feel awfully guilty to prevent someone’s gift for their mother, but it was out of your control. So, with the guilt hanging over your head, you pushed the parcel into the corner under one of the tables on sale.

Doing one last round of the shop, you extinguished the candles dotted around and flipped the light switches off except the main one by the door. With your coat and gloves on, you made sure the scarf was wrapped tight round your neck before grabbing your bag and did one last sweep of the place. Glancing in the corner, you took one last lingering look at the sorrowful parcel that sat under the table, but quickly snatched your eyes away, and grabbing the keys, you flipped the final light switch and stepped out into the cold, looking for the nearest post-box with the letter grasped in your hand.

--------------------------------------------------------------

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

Monday came rolling round as usual, and you began your usual weekday routine of washing and dressing yourself before heading downstairs for breakfast. Scooping some scrambled eggs onto the toast on your plate, you trudged from the kitchen to the dining room, the slap of your bare feet on the tiles echoing through the wide hallway.

Shuffling through the doorway, you sat opposite Ollie, who, by the looks of it, was still waking up as he shovelled buttered toast into his mouth with his head still lying sideways on the table. Reaching over, you slapped the handle of your fork against his ear that stuck out from between his loose, dark curls, and he let out a whine as he sat up to face you with one eye glued shut, the other barely open, bread hanging from between his frown.

“You’ll choke eating like that.” You said as you scooped egg into your mouth.

Ollie dropped the toast from his mouth onto his plate. “Good.” He mumbled. “S’better than Miss Sammie droning on and ooonnnn about nonsense.” He flopped his head back on the table.

“Well enjoy it while you can.” You snorted. “If this crash gets any worse Mum will be pulling you both out to find jobs. And I know you two wouldn’t last a day in the workplace.”

He jerked his head back, scrunching his face in offence. “Like you would be any better.”

You deadpanned. “I’m currently working 9 -5, Monday to Friday, dumbass.” You jabbed back in annoyance, throwing a piece of crust at his forehead.

“Shit, forgot about that.” He grumbled, but perked up suddenly. “Yea, but you’ve only been working full time since last week!”

You chucked another crust. “Running a shop full time on my own – something I’ve never done before??”

“Still.” He retorted, shrugging his shoulders.

You had opened your mouth to retort, but stopped halfway as Allie’s voice echoed through from the kitchen.

“There’s been another one!” he called out, almost excitedly, the thumping of his feet vibrating through the floorboards as he practically sprinted into the room with the morning newspaper grasped firmly in his hands. The two of us jerked back as he slammed it onto the table.

“Amuver!?” cried Ollie, voice muffled by food, though he quickly swallowed it. All evidence of his tiredness now gone, he snatched up the paper and brought it right up to his face. “It’s barely been a week!”

“I know!” Allie replied, his voice rising in volume every time he spoke. “At this point it could end up happening every month!”

You looked between the two of them confused since you couldn’t see what Ollie was reading. “What could happen?” you asked, perplexed.

The two of them froze, turning to stare at you. Their eyes darted to each other, before Ollie lowered the newspaper and spoke.

“…The murders?” He revealed, as if it was the most obvious thing.

You blinked, then looked between the two, more confused. “What murders?”

“What!?” Allie cried, bracing his hands on the table as he leant over it, eyes wide. “You’ve been gallivanting round town for seven months and don’t know about thee murders??”

You leant back slightly at the sight of your cousin’s crazy expression, and slowly shook your head. “I’m uh – not one to read the newspaper often.” You explained sheepishly.

He gaped, clearly shocked at your lack of knowledge about the subject. His head whipped to where his brother sat, and his hand reached out and snatched the newspaper from Ollie’s. You quickly moved your breakfast out of the way, saving your food from being flattened as Allie slammed the paper down and began aggressively prodding at the headline on the front page. Swatting his hand away, you read the giant words printed above a photograph of a lake you didn’t recognise.

‘BARRISTER FOUND BUTCHERED ON EMBANKMENT’

Suddenly intrigued, brought the paper closer to read the front column.

Tragedy strikes again in New Orleans as the remains of county barrister, Paul Morgan, were found on the embankment and in the water of Lake Cataouatche by visitors to the area. Morgan was reported missing last Wednesday by his wife, Martha, when he failed to return home for two days after a night out on Monday with his colleagues. It was reported that Morgan’s body was dismembered, and his head took several hours to locate. However, certain body parts are still missing, therefore the lake has been closed off to the public for the foreseeable future. Police are calling in and searching for potential suspects, and give their condolences to Paul’s close family and friends, stating that they are working overtime to bring the killer to justice and prevent any further deaths. Due to the nature and severity of the crime, it is possible that this is another victim of who the public dubs ‘The Bayou Butcher’. The Sheriff strongly encourages people to stick to an early curfew and remain indoors after nightfall, as the safety of the public cannot be guaranteed at this trying time. (More on Page 5)

You went to flip through, but the paper was pulled out your hands by Ollie who wanted to read it.

“You know what I’m thinking?” Allie hissed excitedly as he lowered himself onto the chair at the head of the table between you both. “This could be another Axeman!”

Ollie gasped, eyes sparkling. “Shit, it could!”

You perked up. “Another Axeman? How long has this guy been around?” you asked as you brought your breakfast back in front of you.

Allie turned to you, eyes shining in excitement. “The first body was found in 1927 – and the rest have been popping up every 2-3 months, but this is the first time there’s been two in less than two weeks!”

You narrowed your eyes in thought. “How do you know it’s all one guy?”

At this question he seemed to get more excited, practically vibrating in his seat as he gestured to his twin. “Ollie and I have been collecting newspaper clippings on every murder that’s happened, and we’ve tried to eliminate any outliers – like, different weapons, ones that are bleedin’ obvious who did it – the rest all have the same MO: they never find the whole body.” He yammered on at light speed, emphasising each word with a loud thump of his finger prodding the table. “Sometimes it’s not obvious, I think they try to throw the police off by going for something small – like a finger – but there’s always something missing, and we know it’s them.”

You frowned. “Them?”

He shrugged. “Could be a woman.” You raised an eyebrow. “What!? I don’t discriminate! Women can be scary!” You slowly sat back in your seat, staring your cousin down. He pointed at you as he looked at his brother with wide eyes. “See!? You wouldn’t be surprised if she dragged a body in?”

Ollie swallowed the food he was chewing. “I wouldn’t be surprised if she caused the second Great Fire of London because someone stole her food.” He said nonchalantly, before casually returning to his toast.

“Exactly!” cried Allie. “No wonder the government wants you all nice and buttoned up in a strait jacket!”

Dropping your fork with a clatter, you looked up at him in shock, mouth hanging open. He froze, quickly realising what he had said, and his face slowly scrunched up as he cringed.

“Too far?” he squeaked meekly as he glanced at you. “Sorry.”

Pouting, you glared silently before picking your fork back up.

A few moments of silence passed, before Ollie decided he had experienced enough of the dampened mood. “You know,” he began, catching your attention again. “We think the body parts aren’t just missing for the sake of it.”

“Oh?” you tilted your head, intrigued again.

He looked you directly in the eye. “We think they’re eating them.”

Your eyebrows shot up. “Oo yummy, like a cannibal?” you queried, eyes darting to Allie, who perked back up, nodding. “So… there’s a cannibalistic serial killer running around New Orleans?”

Allie pointed a finger. “Serial killer, yes. Cannibal, possibly. We don’t actually have any proper evidence for that. I’m also going to skip the ‘yummy’ part, cuz I know you would never willingly consume human flesh.”

“You would be correct,” you confirmed with an amused smile, before glancing at the two. “Has mum ever suggested that you two should consider joining the police force?”

All you got were two matching cheshire grins in response.

----------------------------------------

After cleaning up your food, and disappointing the twins because no, you didn’t bring your serial killer books to America with you, because you didn’t want to be judged by the luggage inspectors on the ferry, besides, Jack the Ripper got a little boring after a while.

Even though it was interesting to learn about the current events of the city you were staying in, the subject of said current events did end up putting you on edge when you travelled to work that morning, with you clutching your bag a little tighter, and intensely staring down anyone who looked at you a little odd on the tram. It even got to the point where you had stepped off the tram, and spent the ten minute walk between there and the shop glancing down any alleyways as subtle as you could, even though you knew you would spot anyone against the white snow that reflected the morning sun into your poor, suffering eyes anyway.

Unlocking the shop doors, you stepped in, stomping the snow off of your boots on the mat before picking it up and shaking it off outside. Crossing the threshold of the room, you ducked under the rug into the kitchen, shrugging off your scarf and coat and hanging them up on the pegs.

You were just dusting off the old grandfather clock that was slotted between the shelves of smaller antique clocks when a knock echoed through the shop. Jumping slightly, you lowered the feather duster in your hand and looked over your shoulder to see the same mailman from Friday waving at you through the window in the door, his smile growing as you made eye contact with him . Placing the duster down, you quickly strode over to the door, twisting the locks before pulling it open and sticking you head through the gap.

“I do apologise Miss,” he began after you said hello. “I hate to interrupt you whilst your still getting ready to open, but my boss handed some priority mail to me – said I had to get it to you as soon as I could.” He held a letter out in front of you.

Frowning, confused, you slowly reached out and took the letter from his hands. “Okayyy…” Turning the letter around you came across some very familiar hand writing:

‘To Mr LeBlanc’s Employee.’

“Oh god.” You groaned quietly, your shoulders slumping. This could turn out to be quite nasty if this was going the way you thought it would.

The mailman glanced between the letter and your very prominent grimace. “Is everything alright?” he asked, concern shining in his eyes.

“Yea! Yea,” you breathed, glancing around the street with the dwindling hope that your client would show up to pick up his parcel, but the letter in your hand said otherwise. “Everything’s fine. Just some very small business issues.”

He glanced at your face again, and went to open his mouth, but hesitated, seemingly switching what he was going to say. “Well, uh, I hope everything goes well, ma’am. I’ll see you around?”

You nodded, still staring down the street. “Yea, sure. See you around.” You said distractedly. Quickly giving him a strained smile, you stepped back to close the door, and the man tipped his cap at you again before strolling away.

Walking over to the counter, you slumped onto the stool with a groan, chucking the letter down in front of you. Leaning your elbows on the surface, you rested your forehead against your palms as you glared at the words inked onto the paper. The way it was addressed to you already screamed passive-aggressive, and you hated confronting anything or anyone with a passion, and you certainly didn’t want to confront this Boudreaux guy because you denied his mum a Christmas present. With a loud whine, you slammed your head onto the counter before blindly patting the surface until you felt the thick paper and slowly dragged it towards you. Sitting back up, you held the seemingly innocent envelope in front of you, and stared at it for a couple more moments, before you couldn’t take it anymore and tore it open.

---

December 7 th, 1929

To the Employee of Mr LeBlanc,

I hope this letter has found you in post haste. I am deeply upset that you lack the skills of radio repair, after all it is a growing medium that most should be learning at this point. Therefore I have come to the conclusion that I will refuse your rejection. The fliers you put out stated very clearly that you could repair ANY object, and it would be very disappointing for people to hear that it no longer has that skill to offer, since the only other option for radio repair during these trying times is a very unpleasant experience with that owner I mentioned.

I do hope my Mother’s radio will be fixed on time, I do hate to disappoint her. If Mr LeBlanc does not recover within the period, or you have any queries about the repair, please call the number I have written below.

XXXXXXXXXXX

Best Wishes,

Mr A. Boudreaux

---

If your mouth hung open any further than you would be catching every insect that resided in the swamps surrounding the town.

Was this guy fucking for real??

You scoffed slightly. Then again. Eventually you scoffing spiralled into manic laughter as you guffawed at the audacity that this man thought he had. With wide eyes, you slammed the paper down back onto the counter, staring over at the wall because if you looked at those words any longer you would probably end up tracking this man down so you could shove his mother’s radio up his ass along with the fat metal rod that apparently already resided there.

Taking a deep breath, you pushed back the stool and stood up, deciding you needed you reset your mind before the first customers came in. Marching back to the kitchen, you spent the next five minutes sat in the middle of the floor, waiting for the kettle to boil as you very angrily stuffed the blueberry muffin you had brought in your mouth. You glanced at the clock and pouted as you realised you only had 15 minutes before you had to put on your best customer-friendly expression despite the metaphorical grey cloud that thundered above your head.

Thinking for a moment, you shot back up, chucking the muffin case as you strode back through to the counter, and snatched the letter up, marching back to the kitchen over to the rotary phone on the table in the corner. Picking up the handset, you pressed it to your ear as you spun the number written out on the paper in front of you.

It rang for a moment, and you tried to picture the man who would – hopefully – receive your call. You expected to hear the gruff voice of some 50 year old, that would start yelling down the line about how incompetent you were, especially when he found out you were a woman, before you heard a crackle as it was picked up and a polite and much younger sounding “Hello?” came through.

You froze for a moment, your vision of some rude, old guy whooshed away at the voice of a much younger, more spritely man, and you pictured someone like the mailman, until you heard a louder, drawn out “Hellooo?”, the man on the other end seemingly becoming amused at your lack of response.

Snapping yourself out of the character builder you had in your mind, you quickly spoke. “Hello, do I happen to be talking to–”

“Oh, I am sorry, my dear.” You blinked as you were interrupted. “But I do believe you’ve accidentally called an American number!” The man said chipperly, though there was a condescending undertone – his amusement clearly growing at the thought of your apparent mistake. You guessed it was when he heard your accent.

“I- what?” you stammered down the receiver.

“Oh you poor thing.” He simpered over the line like some fake grandma comforting you after you tripped over. He was clearly having fun – you could just picture the fake pout he was putting on. “Like I said, I’m afraid you have the wrong number.”

No, this was definitely the right one. His attitude over the phone matched his attitude in the letter precisely.

You could hear him being to move to put the phone down, and you quickly called out. “WAIT NO!!” you cried, on the verge of an outrage. “I definitely put the right number in! Now, am I or am I not speaking to a Mister Boudreaux?”

“Oh! Do pardon me.~” He practically sing-songed. Oh, so now he was willing to listen? “Yes that is I, and to who do I owe the pleasure to be called by an English dame such as yourself?” the fake flirtatious tone had you picturing the faceless man laid on his front, kicking his legs as he twirled the coil between his fingers. You pushed that amusing thought down, however, when you caught sight of the piece of paper in your hand.

“I got your letter.”

“Ah,” It was like a switch was flipped, the man’s tone darkening slightly. “I see.”

Rereading the words this guy had put down, you could barely control yourself, and you pictured the time your mother had marched you down the lane to the house of a boy in your school year. That boy had given you a large bruise on your forehead, and instead of telling you that he did it because he fancied you, your mum decided to give him and his family the verbal lashing of your life. ‘I’m not raising you to snap at the slightest pressure like those London lasses, my love’, she had said, ‘You’re gonna go down kicking and screaming like it’s the last thing you’ll do’.

And that’s exactly what you’re gonna do.

“Right,” you began, your Yorkshire accent coming on full force. “I’m gonna need you t’ open yer lug ole, lad, cuz I dunno how you lot do customer service over here in America, but bein’ passive aggressive t’ someone who’s literally done nowt to deserve the absolute shite you’ve just given me makes you out t’ be a right knob’ead, you hear me?” You reprimanded. “If you don’t get your arse down to the shop by the end of the week, I’m putting ya mum’s radio down as unclaimed and selling it t’ the next person I see!”

You quickly slammed the phone down, too fuming to hear anything that Mr Boudreaux had to say. The only reason you felt a little guilty was that you knew nothing about this guy’s mum – she could be the sweetest woman in the world, and you just up and went and threatened to sell her possession! Though, with the way her son behaved, you would be surprised if she turned out to be just like him. Ugh, then you would be dealing with two of them.

Letting out a sigh, you picked up the phone again, instead dialling the phone number pinned to the corkboard on the wall. It rang for longer this time, and when it picked up you received a very loud coughing fit. When it died down, you finally spoke.

“Ralph I need your help.” You groaned, plopping yourself down on the spindly chair next to you with a defeated sigh.

“I’ve got the worst customer in the world.”

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

Does uh, anyone want more memes?

I hope you've enjoyed what I've given you so far, and I do apologise for the sudden dialect change, I was desperate for MC to finally speak the way I do lol. See you soon for Chapter 3!!

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

< Chapter 1 // Chapter 2 // Chapter 3 >

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*feeds you content a lot earlier than I thought*

Taglist: @theredviolets @mybrainsautocorrect @all-user-error @belos-simp69 @boogiemansbitch @elio-ee @snowlotr @mistresslemonsuger @sugasweettea @jaygrl22 @mysterypotatoink @yunimimii @threefingeredpencil @mydeardelphi @glowinthedarkbones1150 @fluffismystaplefood @writer-girl99 @rl800 @the-unhinged-raccoon @riritvt

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

[mrsaltieri-real]

Good Boy, Meeks (Mickey Altieri X Randy Meeks)

Words: 2.8k

Warning/s: language, smut, slight dom/sub dynamic, handjobs, blowjob, teasing, cum eating, cum play, filming/sex tape, hair pulling, Randy’s a nervous wreck, Mickey’s a teasing ass, implied stalking, frenemies to fuck buddies.

A/N: SO this is my first fic that is two canon characters. No reader insert, no OC. Just Mickey and Randy. The Film Bro’s™️. This was ridiculously fun to write, I’m definitely going to do stuff like this more often. I love them so much. Thank you @bisexual-horror-fan for beta reading and editing! You’re such a massive help dude!

I hope you guys enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it!

Mickey had always found Randy sweet.

In a lot of ways, they were the same. Film geeks with an unfiltered passion for cinema and the art surrounding it, constantly looking for a deeper meaning, both there and in real life. Then again, they were more different than similar.

Randy was a small town boy still reeling from the series of murders that rocked him a year back. He never showed it, but he lived in a constant state of unease, glancing over his shoulder and never letting anybody but Sidney in. Even then, he couldn’t talk to her about this stuff. She was healing, getting better. He was happy for her, but when she began dating Derek, he realized that he truly was all alone.

Mickey, on the other hand, was from the city. Eager, outgoing, confident. He wasn’t scared about people finding him arrogant or full of himself, he lived his life with no regrets. He was being bankrolled through college by Billy Loomis’ mother to help her finish the job he and Stu Macher couldn’t. Mickey was violent, in more ways than the obvious. His ambition made him all the more magnetic, especially to Randy.

They had a fun frenemy vibe going for a while, though they both knew it was more affectionate than anything. Mickey liked Randy, he thought he was simply adorable. Randy liked Mickey, he enjoyed arguing with him even though most of the time he knew he was just saying opposing views on cinema to get a rise out of him, like when he’d sat in front of him and blatantly said that Superman 2 was better than Superman 1. Randy could see the amusement in his eyes as he argued back, but decided to roll with it.

Anything to stretch out the conversation.

Randy wasn’t gay. He knew he wasn’t gay, he’d been in love with Sidney since before he even knew what love was. But sometimes, just sometimes, he’d glance over at Mickey in class or in the cafeteria, watch his head tip back as he laughed, the dimples in his cheeks. His eyes would drift to his strong, muscular arms, watch his huge hands run through his hair or drum against his thigh, and it was almost impossible to look away.

But no, he wasn’t gay, he wasn’t bi, he was straight. Right?

“Randy!” Fingers snapped in front of Randy’s face, and he blinked, shaking his head before his blue eyes tentatively met light brown. “You okay, man?”

“Fine, why?” Randy cleared his throat, adjusting himself in his seat and looking down at his paper. He and Mickey had been paired for a project on cinematography in horror, and it bugged Randy that the moment their names were spoken out one after the other by their professor, he’d felt his heart flutter a little.

“Well, I was talking to you and you were just… Staring at me.” Mickey’s tone was light, almost playful. He didn’t look away from Randy, his grin spreading wider as he saw the rush of colour flood to the boy's cheeks. How cute is that?

“Fuck off, Mickey, no I wasn’t.” Randy scoffed, shaking his head. “Stop fucking around, what were you saying?”

“C’mon, Meeks! Tell me what you were thinking about.” Mickey leaned forward in his own seat, his hand reaching out and playfully pushing Randy’s shoulder. Randy swatted at his hand, only making Mickey chuckle and hold his hands up in surrender. “Okay, okay!” He shook his head, still smiling as he grabbed his camera from his desk, flipping the small flap open and holding it up. “Don’t wanna tell me? Tell the camera.”

“Mickey, I swear to God, fuck off.” Randy held up his hand, turning his head to the side and burying his face into his shoulder. “You’re such an ass, dude.”

“Aw, I know.” Mickey didn’t drop the camera. His eyes were fixed on Randy through the tiny screen, his head tilting just slightly to the side. His smile had changed into a somewhat affectionate half smile, watching as Randy peeked up at him. “What?”

“You like me, don’t you?”

The question took him by such surprise, Randy let out a laugh that was a little too loud, a roll of his eyes that was a little too dramatic and stood to his feet, pushing the chair back a little too hard. Mickey watched the ordeal with an amused expression and a cocked brow, the camera still focused on Randy, “I think you’re a dick.”

“And I think that you think I’m blind and stupid.” Mickey retorted, finally looking up from the small screen, his eyes settling and Randy’s awkward stance. “It’s okay, I won’t tell anyone. I wouldn’t do that.”

Randy looked away, as he says, “I don’t like you. Not like that.”

Mickey presses, “Like what?”

“Like- Oh, shut up.” Randy muttered, beginning to walk toward Mickey’s bathroom.

Before he could get past him, Mickey’s large hand that Randy had so often admired shot out, wrapping around his forearm easily and holding him next to him.

“Don’t make it weird, Meeks. We can fuck if that’s what you want.”

Mickey said it so matter-of-factly it took Randy a little by surprise, his eyes shooting to Mickey, who still gripped the camera in his other hand, the band around his wrist and his arm resting beside him.

“But you’re not…” Randy’s voice trailed off and Mickey let out another laugh.

There is that infuriatingly dazzling smile as he asked, “I’m not what? Gay?”

Randy stumbles over his words as he responds, “I mean… Yeah. I’ve seen you with girls and stuff.”

“Yeah, so? What, you're a film major and think people can’t branch out a little?”

Randy frowned, this isn’t as simple as making a movie in a different genre, at least not to Randy. His eyes darting from Mickey’s hand wrapped around his arm and to his face. He couldn’t deny, when Mickey touched him, he felt an uncomfortably strong wave of arousal flow through his body and stab him straight in the stomach.

Fuck, he hated that Mickey made him feel this way. Fucking Mickey Altieri of all people. It was no surprise really, though. Randy had seen first hand, he could pretty much fuck anybody he wanted. He was outrageously attractive, magnetic and just downright charming. He couldn’t deny he was attracted to him, and had been for a pathetic amount of time. And now, here he was, telling him he wanted him.

Randy didn’t move, caught in a hesitating limbo, so Mickey helped him, tugging on his arm and pulling him in front of him.

He had no idea what he was doing. He’d thought about this, this moment more times than he cared to admit whilst he was fisting his cock in the shower, thinking of Mickey. His hands, his arms, his smile, his cock, and more often than not, his lips. He was always filled with guilt after, wondering how Mickey would feel if he knew that Randy touched himself to thoughts of him on his knees with Mickey in his mouth.

This was fucking unbearable.

Mickey’s brown eyes were fixed on Randy’s torn expression, watching the vast array of emotions pass over his face. Suddenly, it wasn’t so amusing.

“Nod if you want me.” Mickey said, his voice unnaturally soft and tender.

Randy’s final thought was simple.

Fuck it.

He nodded his head, eyes, watching as Mickey released his arm and gently palmed over himself. Randy hadn’t noticed before that he was already half hard. Did he know? This entire time that Randy wanted him this much? Did he want it as long as he did, too?

Mickey didn’t speak, but he stood to his feet, placing the still rolling camera down on his desk, the lenses facing them, a light smile on his lips as he leaned forward, his hand moving from his own aching bulge in favour of Randy’s. The two of them were wearing sweatpants, and Mickey smiled in satisfaction at how fucking hard Randy was for him. He could feel his heat, feel the throbbing before he even made contact.

Mickey’s other hand cradled Randy’s flushed cheek, finding it sweet how panicked Randy looked, as if he was afraid this was all some big joke to his expense. But this wasn’t, Mickey wanted Randy, had done since the first day the little geek challenged him in film class.

Randy found that focusing on the beauty spot just beside Mickey’s eyes calmed him down slightly, humanizing the other boy a little more.

Mickey wasn’t going to kiss Randy first, however. He felt like that was something Randy had to do, and it didn’t take him anywhere near as long as he expected.

The minute Mickey’s head ghosted over him, Randy bit the bullet, closing the space and pressing his lips against Mickey’s with a passion that took Mickey by surprise. Randy let out a shaking moan into his mouth, pushing himself greedily against Mickey’s hand in desperate need for friction, to which the other boy eagerly obliged, his hand moving to frail his fingers down Randy’s happy trail and slipping smoothly into Randy’s sweats and boxers, eagerly kissing him back as he did. Mickey tasted like mint, his lips were unbearably soft and something about them seemed like home, the rough feeling of Mickey’s stubble scratched against Randy’s face, so satisfying and just how he dreamed it would.

The moment Randy felt Mickey’s well worked hand wrap around his cock, he was worried he was going to cum then and there. His hips thrust a little as he gasped into Mickey’s mouth, feeling him smile against him as he did. Randy’s hands were fast and eager, but he was stopped sharply by Mickey, who pulled back, shaking his head.

“Oh, God I- I’m sorry, fuck, I-“

Randy began rambling, his face flushing a deep red. Mickey simply rolled his eyes, bending down to pull Randy’s sweats and boxers down before pulling his own shirt over his head, tossing it to the side. “Shut up, I thought it would be easier this way, no?”

This was the first time Randy had seen Mickey shirtless. He momentarily marvelled at the hairs on his chest, his toned stomach, and swallowed thickly.

Before Randy could reply, Mickey kissed him, deeper and with more vigour than last time. Randy’s leaking cock pressed between both of their stomachs. Mickey’s hands gripped Randy’s hips, pulling him even closer to him and forcing him to grind against him before he pressed him firmly up against the wall, his lips beginning to drift from Randy’s lips, to his jaw, to his throat.

“F-fuck.” Randy’s moan was unsteady, his hands unconsciously moving to knot in his thick dark hair, his hips beginning to grind against him by themselves. The friction felt incredible, but what felt even better was Mickey’s hand beginning to slowly pump Randy’s cock as he kissed his neck, the sensation making goosebumps rise on his skin.

Mickey used Randy’s pre-cum as lube as he allowed the boy to messily thrust against his hand, his simpering whimpers and moans fucking music to his ears.

“You have no idea how many times I’ve thought of you like this, Meeks.” Mickey breathed into Randy’s ear, twisting his hand expertly and relishing in the gentle whines flooding out from Randy’s lips. “A leaking fucking mess just for me.”

“Just for you.” Randy echoed Mickey’s words, his hands gripping his hair even tighter as his pace began to steadily increase.

The feeling of his rough hand gliding up and down his shaft, his messy cock aching and throbbing, it was nothing like he’d had before. His first and only time with Karen Kolcheck back in Woodsboro seemed pretty much laughable compared to how Mickey was making him feel right now with just his hand. Randy knew he was close, his balls were aching, and he could feel himself ready to unload all over Mickey’s stomach, but he didn’t want to. He knew that once he did, it would be over.

Fuck, he didn’t want this to be over.

“You gonna cum for me, Randy?” Mickey asked. Randy let out a soft whine, flinching in effort to avoid doing just that.

“N-no.” He groaned out, the grip on Mickey’s hair tightening.

Mickey let out a breathy laugh, his hand slowing to a gentle pump. “Why not?” He asked.

Randy didn’t answer, his head falling forward, so his forehead pressed against Mickey’s shoulder.

Mickey wasn’t having that. He pulled his hand away from Randy’s sloppy cock, knocking his arms out of the way so he could pull Randy’s head back before gripping his chin between his long fingers.

“Why not?” He asked again, his tone a little harder.

“Because I don’t want it to be done.” Randy blurted out. He felt Mickey cock twitch against his from the confines of his sweats and briefs and felt an overwhelming desire to touch him too. Mickey looked at the hungry expression on Randy’s face and smiled affectionately, releasing Randy’s jaw and sliding his hand into his hair.

“Okay, on your knees then.”

Before the words were completely out of Mickey’s mouth, Randy was on his knees, pulling down Mickey’s remaining clothes.

Randy had only seen his own dick and dicks in porn. No pornstar cock would ever compare to Mickey’s. The only word that came to mind was mouthwatering.

After Mickey spent a little time talking Randy through it, Randy took him greedily into his mouth, moaning at how delicious he tasted, his eyes fluttering closed.

“Fuckkkkk.” Mickey groaned, his head tipping back and one hand still resting on the top of his head. He glanced at the camera, picking it up and focusing it down on the adorable sight before him; Randy greedily sucking his cock as if his life fucking depended on it. Randy made a sound of disapproval at the sight of the camera, but Mickey shook his head. “Thought you might want to watch this back when you fuck yourself thinking about me.”

A brief thought of how the fuck does he know I do that? Crossed his mind for the briefest of moments before he forgot all about it, focusing on the feeling of Mickey’s thick, heavy cock in his mouth. He bobbed his head obediently, feeling Mickey begin to thrust harder, pushing his way down Randy’s throat.

“Yeah, good boy. Look up into the camera with my cock in your mouth, Meeks.” Mickey instructed, voice heavy and dripping with arousal. Randy did just that, feeling Mickey begin to twitch in his mouth as soon as he did. “Mm. You wanna get off?” He asked, smiling at Randy’s muffled yes. “Go on.”

Randy quickly took his own sensitive cock into his hand, realizing quickly his pre-cum had dropped onto Mickey’s hardwood floor. Mickey angled the camera, zooming in on the sight and watching it intently, his hips snapping against Randy’s face urgently.

“Fuck, I’m close.” Mickey grunted, halting his movement. Randy’s nose pressed against Mickey’s skin for a moment, beginning to splutter slightly as Mickey began to release hot ribbons of white down his throat, before pulling back to fill up Randy’s mouth.

The delicious taste, along with Mickey’s gorgeous expression, his head back and his chest heaving as he came, sent Randy into a convulsing mess, cumming all over his own hand, stomach and the ground beneath him. Mickey pulled out of his mouth quickly, relishing in the sound of Randy’s gasping moans as he finished.

It was silent between them for a moment, Randy trembling on his knees, not looking Mickey in the eyes. Mickey still had the camera rolling, looking fondly into the small window of it, before he glanced down at Randy pointedly.

“You made a mess, Meeks.”

Randy let out a sigh, relieved at the broken silence, before he asked, “What?”

Mickey nodded down beneath him at the cum staining the floor. Randy blushed, moving to shakily to stand up, only to be stopped by Mickey’s large, grounding hand.

“Clean it up.”

“I- I was going to. Was gonna get some paper towels and-“

“No, Randy.” Mickey cut him off, the cheeky smile back on his face as he knelt down in front of him. Mickey’s finger dipped into the impressive pool of white, before he raised it to his own mouth and licked it. Randy watched intently, his once softened cock twitching at the sight. Fuck.

“On your hands and knees-“ Mickey stopped, moving the camera and angling it down at the mess. “And clean. It. Up.”

Randy stared at Mickey for a moment, before nodding his head, and doing exactly what he was told.

He got on his hands and knees, dipping his head down, and began to lap up his own cum from the hardwood floor. Mickey watched through the camera, teeth sinking into his bottom lip at the sight.

“Good boy, Meeks.”

#mickey and randy my darlings #no one can tell me they didn’t canonically fuck at least once #I love them #this was ridiculously fun #hope you all enjoy! #scream #mickey altieri #randy meeks #mickey altieri and randy meeks #m x m #mickey altieri smut #randy meeks smut #mickey and randy smut #scream smut

[footballf1]

SPIDERRR!-Daniel Ricciardo

Summary: In which the OC (Natalie) is scared of spiders and when she stumbled into one, she screamed for her honey badger boyfriend to get it.

Warning: There might be some grammar mistakes

Type: Fluff

Natalie grumbled and shifted her head at the pillow. She wanted to sleep more but her body wouldn't let her go to sleep, for some reason.

She groaned out of frustration, but did it silently since she remembered that there was an Australian sleeping beside her.

Daniel has just gotten back home after the previous race and knowing him, he would always like to sleep in late.

She opened her eyes slowly to adjust the sunlight that was flashing at her eyes. She sat up while rubbing her eyes, to get rid of the crusty eyes. She looked beside her and saw the shirtless Daniel snoring peacefully.

She stretched her arms up before stepping off the bed. She carefully and lazily walked to the bathroom and turned on the light. She grabbed her toothbrush and squeezed out some toothpaste on the brush.

Natalie felt more awake when the minty taste of the thick cream hit her mouth and nerves. She moved the brush around her mouth and tongue.

She accidentally knocked the toothpaste over the counter top. She bent down to grab it until she saw an 8 legged bug right in front of her feet.

Her eyes widened when she realized what it was. She screamed out of terror and climbed up the sink.

"DANIIIIIIIEEEEEEELL!" She screamed out for him.

Daniel snorted awake because of her screams. He was about to fall asleep again because he thought it was a dream. "DANNNNIIII!" Until he heard her 'bloody murder' shriek.

He jumped out of the bed, feeling more awake. Along the way of running to the bathroom, Daniel accidentally tripped on something which made him fall to the floor. "Ow." He mumbled.

He got up from the floor and started limping to the bathroom. When he reached the bathroom, he was surprised to see her on the sink and she looked like she had seen a ghost

"Nat what's wrong?" He asked in a worried tone.

She pointed towards the floor where the spider is at. "That's what!" She exclaimed.

Daniel looked down on the floor to see where she was pointing out. He burst out a laughing when he saw a small spider on the floor, doing nothing but standing still like a statue.

"What are you laughing at?" She asked. "Get it." She shrieked.

"Baby...." He paused because he couldn't control his laughs. "You woke me up because of this." He said with a mixture of laughters

"Daniel, that's a tarantula!" She exclaimed.

"First of all, you're over exaggerating because that is not a tarantula." He said which made her sighed in relief. "In fact that is a common wolf spider." He added.

Natalie looked at him with horror. "How does that make it any better, Daniel?!" She exaggerated.

"Well tarantulas are fuzzy and are not scared of us because they don't give a crap about humans. While the wolf spiders are small and a bit fuzzy, they stay away from us whenever they see a human." He said calmly.

"If they stay away from us then why the hell did this one have the guts to come near me?" She asked him.

"I don't know. He's probably a brave little fellow." He shrugged.

"Will you just get it please?" She pleaded.

"Why don't you get it?" He asked. "It's not like it's gonna attack you." He added.

"You're the honey badger. You get it." She reasoned weakly.

"What does my nickname have to do about me getting a teeny-weeny spider?" He asked.

"Please Daniel you know I'm arachnophobic." She pleaded before putting on a pout.

Daniel groaned out of frustration. This was not how he wanted to wake up in the early morning. "Fine I'll go get something to catch it. Hold on." He said before walking away from the bedroom.

5 minutes later, he came back with a plastic bowl and paper. He slowly trotted to the spider while he was in some sort of attacking position. "Alright spider. I'm not gonna hurt you or anything." He paused.

"I'm here to rescue you so please just be.....cooperative." Before she knew it, Daniel put the plastic bowl over the spider in a flash. She jumped by his sudden action.

The spider reacted quickly and started squirming around the bowl. Daniel slipped in the paper under the bowl with the spider in it. He carefully stood up and was trying to balance the paper and bowl.

"WOAHH!" He yelled out while faking a fall on the spider.

She screamed again while Daniel burst out of laughter. "DANIEL JOSEPH RICCIARDO!" She said angrily. "Just get it out of here." She said through her gritted teeth; annoyed by the fact of him scaring her.

"Yes boss." He joked while walking out with the spider.

She got off the sink and continued what she was previously doing. From the mirror she saw his head popped up from the door. "Just wanted to let you know that I released it and I'm going back to sleep." He said before disappearing.

She spat out the water and wiped her mouth with the towel beside her. Natalie felt bad for waking up Daniel. She got out of the bathroom and saw him on his stomach, asleep.

She smiled and climbed onto the bed. When she laid on top of his bare back, she heard him grunt. "What now? He grumbled with his eyes still closed.

"I wanted to say thank you for saving me from that spider."

"I'm called the honey badger for a reason." He pointed out sleepily.

"Well in return..." She teased while she traced his tattoos on his arms. "Do you want to come shower with me?" She asked.

Daniel opened his eyes wide open and immediately got up. Natalie giggled when she fell down to the bed. She felt herself being pulled from her ankles, but not before she was thrown over by the shoulder.

#daniel ricciardo #daniel ricciardo fluff #f1 imagine #f1 fluff #mclaren f1 #first imagine on Tumblr #arachnophobia #spiders #please request #Daniel being a honey badger

[silvernyxchariot]

"Amino sucks." Ouh~ I do love a good rant, so I shall add to the pool of Amino rants here on Tumblr. Now, say it with your whole chest, if you're going to make a statement, say it correctly.

No, Amino App is absolute trash.

Synopsis: Tumblr and Ao3 are superior options for your niché interests. Don't bother using Amino Apps if you value creative freedom, dislike censorship, or glitchy apps that eat up your battery life.

I originally joined in 2018-2019 and to my understanding, it was a place to express your love for a specific topic. In my case, I loved One Piece and Naruto. People could post their art, fanfics, and role play with their OCs. But whatever creative liberties Amino veterans had pre-2020 are long gone.

The communities go from one extreme to the next, within the same community might I add. Ex. There are Amino communities that talk about serial killers/murder but within the same breath you get the 20 y/o adult toddlers crying about the word "thot" being too obscene! 😱 And you can bet your ass, there are glitches, bugs, and porn bots. Overall, idiocracy on Amino is equivalent to Twitter/X but not as graphic as 2chan, the defunct Japanese worser version of 4chan. Some examples of the shit that goes on in Amino include but are not limited to:

A classical painting of Lucifer being reported as pornographic, subsequently silencing/banning the post author (not my story)

Drawing of t-shirts with the words "f*ck" or "tits" on characters, fully clothed btw, and no ahegao in sight being silenced/hidden (my story)

But community staff is A-OK with featuring, for ALL to SEE, women in thin bikinis who are one sneeze away from having their tits pop out

Grooming. Adults grooming children in DMs

Porn bots, although I've seen this as less of a problem if staff is sensible enough to lock/close the community

Community staff being wholy hypocritical. I say the word "thot" in a public chat and get some curator complaining, "That's a no-no word. 🥺We have to protect the children." But I come back to the SAME public chat, and for about an hour and a half, they were talking about laundering money, murder, and department store theft. With not a single staff member in sight. Royally, Fuck Off. (Def my story)

Team Amino won't do a single fucking thing when you file a report to them for anything; for inactive Agent leaders, staff's abuse of power, reporting groomers, etc.

TA's reporting bots are 100% stupid. My Zoro drawing got hidden because it was considered "pornographic." He was in his Santō Ryu pose with his swords while wearing the equivalent of swim shorts and a bandana. Like, "BITCH. This basically his normal attire." (Def my story)

Hotel Hazbin has a minimum age requirement of 16. It's for a mature audience, yeah? The first PSA I see when I get into the Amino is "No 18+ content allowed. To protect the ✨️children✨️😇." MAYBE DON'T ALLOW CHILDREN BELOW THE AGE OF 16 ONTO AN AMINO WITH MATURE SUBJECTS such as prostitution, drug abuse, murder, and alcoholism.¹

I'm only on Amino now to support a friend because he still posts there, but even he's been holding back on drawing his OCs in cool outfits and getting fed up with TA's bullshit and community staffs' hypocrisy. MediaLab, the company that bought Amino App from its original creators, is basically making Amino into a toddlers' app, but not actively doing anything to manage it or make it better.

Voice Chats: degenerate, depraved, toxic. Never experienced it myself, but glad I didn't based on the shit I've heard from others.

Aside from the thirteen to twenty three year olds, there are also the grown 30+ year old "adults" throwing tantrums. I saw one woman complain/rant about how horrible men are and how she was getting a divorce to a chat filled with SIXTEEN (16) year olds. It was just wholy unnecessary to trauma dump on these guys. They're here to roleplay and talk about anime. 💀

¹ Staff can ASK people to add their age/birthday in their "Request to join" message, and if the little shits are lying, that's their fault for causing drama or getting offended in a 16+ Amino. Just ban them and their alt accounts. I left as soon as I read that PSA, I'm not dealing with MORE hypocrisy.

To be clear, I'm not asking for "2 girls, 1 cup" videos (an old porno with scat & golden showers), but at least a sensible audience that can handle mature topics. More than "He died of drug overdose 👍" but less than a detailed description of genitals being mutilated by barbed wire, which is actually referenced in epi.1 of HH.

Profanity and cursing are a part of my issue with Amino communities, but slang doesn't necessarily make people equivalent to adults.

* May update this more when I have the time. ♡✧( ु•⌄• ) I also have receipts (screenshots) of 1 or 2 of the things I listed if you need ✨️evidence.✨️

#Amino apps #Amino sucks #amino is trash #ranting hours #Creative freedom? Revoked! #HoyoLab is just as bad #And I'm seeing more trans/homo-phoic shit on both apps recently

[fantomette22]

What are your headcanons dynamics in Byrgen class? Who was the smartest? Who was the president in the class. Who skipped classes? Who hated each other? Who was teacher's pet? Who allowed to copy their homework. I'm running out of questions but please do free form and share everything

OH!!! 👀 a question About the Byrgenwerth squad ?! For real!!!! Oh thank you!! I sure wanna talk about them quite a lot!

When I first got into bloodborne the first stories I imagined were about Byrgenwerth and all this little gang! Or like my friend Crow would call them… Willem’s lil troop (of future mass murderers and mentally ill people). My first multi chap fic about bloodborne that I’m trying to write is focus on the Byrgenwerth era too! So it would probably be more develop here in the very long run (writing is hard  Maria is not even at Byrgenwerth yet lmao💀) but I will still try to answer and put what I can think off here! 

I did talk about a few characters individually too so it could give a few infos but let’s go class dynamics!

But first here’s the list of who I imagined was at Byrgenwerth at that time.

As students: Caryll, Maria, Ludwig, Rom, Micolash, Damian (above class from them) & Charles (Cainhurst oc, above class) oh and the future forgotten madman and his escort.

Laurence is their theology and physiology teacher but he had a few class a few years earlier alongside Gehrman XD 

Gehrman, Dores & Liam : groundskeeper, graveyard and mr gatekeeper (the guy with the password). Ok Dores is super scary but if she likes you it's really good👍

Patches is a janitor who will eventually become a scholar after our favs students graduated. (He shouldn't be here in the first place XD)

and of course there’s Willem the provost, the headmaster.

The other characters I won’t cited are either not around to not born yet. Or not relevant for now.

I think Byrgenwerth is kinda an university so even if they have many classes not just in an amphitheater with hundred of students they can have classes with 20-40 students but it’s never the same ones depending the subject teach and the options of everyone. Yet there’s a few class when they can all be together x) so I don’t think they would had a class president? Idk I didn’t thought about it they probably had a representative. I guess Ludwig could make a great representative of the students? Idk

Ok so for the homework I did this meme a while ago XD

For the rest let’s start with Gehrman and Laurence who had a few classes together. Not lying I see Laurence trying to stay serious in front of the teachers (because he kinda live with Willem since a few years) but being absolutely a clown class actually XD  don’t listen all the time, skipped class, party hard and all at the beginning! Still he helped Gehrman when he had difficulties and he helped Laurence back by providing emotional support when he didn’t feel well. 

But hey he graduated become a teacher and is doing a doctorate so hey believed in your dreams XD

Now for the others. Smartest, I would say Caryll I think. A gifted child who skip at least one year (before Byrgen). They have an ability to understand things that is quite remarquable and really surprising. I mean they translated the runes! People have no idea how that make sense to them. Lil guy of the group everyone loved him. If your mean to them everyone is gonna kick your ass.

Poor Rom on the contrary is no really smart 😢 still she work really hard and try helped by her friends! + she have tons of knowledge on insects. Not useful all the times but when smn have a bug in room they always call Rom to help them XD

Those two could be the teacher pets too (Micolash tries too XD). Like I said everyone loves Caryll and Rom is basically Willem’s daughter in my headcanon.

Maria is also quite smart in a lot of subject (thanks Cainhurst eduction and her grand curiosity). She didn’t really had friends at the beginning, for some reason people didn’t like her and she hate to stay with the rich kids from cainhurst & other noble family (except like 1 or 2) that changed thankfully.

For Ludwig I think he would be average in most of the class yet maybe really good in a precise field.

Mico probably think he’s smarter than everyone XD sometime.

Damian he’s kinda the most normal students ever who’s tired of everything else the other get in trouble with..

About Charles now, an oc I created (but fit in the lore it’s a secret shhh) he have ties with Cainhurst and know Maria, Annalise and all since little. He’s in an upper class (he’s older like Damian) kinda the cool popular guy who tried not to cause to much trouble but still a little. Do a lot of party with the « cool annoying kids » you know u_u still he’s better than them XD from Maria saying. Always been here if she needed help.

Omg Caryll Maria and Ludwig dynamic can be resumed like this :

Laurence : why when something happened it’s always you 3.

They got in trouble with eldritch entities while trying to train to go tomb prospecting it’s not their fault! XD

See those drawings too.

They were supposed to train with Dores & Gehrman to go tomb prospecting and… It end well I swear XD

About the. Future forgotten madman & escort this 2 are always together and get into troubles quite often.

Other dynamics :

Gehrman is like the big brother of the group. I don’t wanna hear other wise. That made him really anxious but at least he had a purpose and smt else to do with his life ❤️ babysit 7 crazy scholars is hard yes. But he’s crazier actually so idk what’s worse really.

Also he’s supposed to guard the campus at night but can’t bring himself to be to angry at students who don’t respect the rules XD he did lecture for 2-5mins future forgotten madman & escort because they came back from the forest and climb a wall or smt XD but hey Caryll is allowed to stare at the like at like 2am because they can’t sleep no problem XD Gehrman do the same to so smt they talk a bit!

Caryll & Rom : they share a braincells. Either they don’t understand what the hell is going on or they’re enlightened with knowledge.

Rom & Caryll & Maria really get along well! The more calm little group too (Yes the 3 boys= Ludwig Mico & Damian are more messy and loud for exemple)

Maria & Ludwig : ok so this one is funny, I hc Ludwig is coming from a rich family. And I was inspired by a few fic where they had class together and Ludwig wonder if she can stand him but actually she sit next to him because well she do stand him XD 

I imagined not long along how they become friend kinda! You see they had prospector training & a few class together but don’t really talk a lot together. Then they got invited to the cool kids party in Yharnam; Problem : because of some « incidents » in the pthumerians labyrinth there’s a curfew at Byrgenwerth. So they need to came back not too late. « Yeah we’ll call a carriage for the ones who got back ! » they didn’t call a carriage.

So you got Maria and Ludwig who decided to return at Byrgenwerth in the middle of the night and having a lil walk in the forest. They don’t really have the choice and it’s better to not go alone so they do the route together. It’s a bit awkward at first but they begin to talk and all. They got along well. Well they arrived late of course. Ludwig thought Gehrman was going to freaking yell at them or smt (he didn’t know him well and well the groundskeeper is intimidating at first) but no he just told them to be more careful or they could get into trouble x) 

Yeah thankfully Maria was already friend with him XD kinda become friends the same way he became friends with Laurence but anyway… (he tried to plant flowers heh asks her opinion on it and she explain a few stuff in botany XD) also they just casually went hunting in the woods on day XD yes prospector training ahaha

To get back to Ludwig and Maria, on their 2nd year at Byrgenwerth she bring her horse and she allowed Ludwig to pass some time with him go and ride and all. Ludwig show her an old picture of the pony he had when he was a kid. On group project either they get to excited and fail XD but succeed the 2nd time generally.

Mico & Rom and Damian : almost inseparable. The 2 boys kinda assign themself at her best friends/bodyguard or smt XD

And you can be sure Mico & Maria would argue a lot if they had a chemical exercice to do together or smt.

And what about them all together as a group dynamic hm? Well either they're genius or a mess XD yep they end up in danger. Again. During prom night!!! Gasp :O

And in last, sometimes there’s free (class) conferences held by Willem or other teachers and they can all assist to it! Yes even Gehrman and Laurence. It’s quite fun x) Quite a mess but fun.

Hope you enjoy! I probably forgot a few things but I hope it will do for now. It’s hm more focus on and the students first & beginning of the 2nd years/5 at Byrgenwerth of the students too. Sorry for the lil delay too last days were a bit busy!

#my posts #my art #anon asks #my asks #byrgenwerth #bloodborne #bloodborne headcanons #part1: a scholar’s dream #byrgenwerth squad #bloodborne memes

[twoidiotwriters1]

Copycat: Genesis —(Marvel Fem!Oc)

A/N: There is something about this man's eyes is impossible to not fall for him -Danny

Words: 1,205

Phase Six Masterlist

Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

Listen to: ‘Quiver’ -by Lonas

viii: As Bad As It Gets

It was time to say goodbye to her life in that universe. She had no friends except the people at the welfare, all significantly older. Parker's friends, few and busy, never had the opportunity to meet her, he felt like they'd never believe she was a real person.

She didn't go out with him to patrol, which made the New Yorkers curious. Who on earth was that mysterious hero patrolling with Spider-man? She had Spider-man's powers, but also some others they'd never seen before— one day she was gone, had she died in a secret mission?

Cat had a kick of watching the conspiracy shows that talked about her, she was called an android, then a faux projection Spider-man would carry around to scare off large groups of lawbreakers— and then her old-time favorite (made by the one and only J.J. Jameson) she was a mercenary Spider-man hired after he'd released her from a Russian prison.

She'd fallen asleep on the couch when Parker entered down the skylight. Cat sat up, it wasn't normal for him to be so noisy when he came back from patrolling, he'd always been quiet so he didn't scare her and made her think an intruder was there to murder her.

"Bug?" She asked out loud.

She heard Parker groan in reply. Cat leaped out of the couch and opened the bathroom door hurriedly: Parker's suit had a red stain on its side. He was holding his wound tightly but he was too dizzy to get up.

"Jesus..." Cat held her breath. "What happened?"

"Tiny guy but boy did he have a killer aim..."

She pull up the upper part of his suit and stared at the bullet wound. "If he had a killer aim, why are you still alive?"

He pushed himself towards the bathtub. "If he'd had deathly aim I wouldn't be here. Dude was decent, he saw a chance and took it..." he groaned. "My god, I'm in pain..."

She pressed her hands against the wound in spite of her disgust. "You're lucky the bullet just took a bit of muscle and skin... that's gonna leave an ugly scar, though..."

"Can you put me back together so I can go to sleep?" His head fell back against the edge of the tub. "I don't scar easily, don't worry about it..."

"What about these?" She vaguely pointed at the thin scars across his chest.

"A giant lizard gave me those— one of a kind," with Cat's help he took off the top part of his suit. "A bullet's nothing to worry 'bout."

She went back to the sink listing under her breath all the things she needed, she put it on top of the toilet's lid. "So how come your senses didn't warn you about the gun?"

"More than one person was pointing at me, so I took a wild guess and—" Parker hissed when she started to clean his wound. "I failed."

"My Peter wouldn't have failed," she joked.

"Go stuff your mouth with cotton."

Cat grinned. "Hang tight, handsome. This will hurt." The young woman did her best to stop the bleeding, once that was under control, she began to stitch his skin back together. Parker started to doze off. "Hey, hey!" She slapped his face lightly. "Don't do that."

"I'm sorry, you're just such a great nurse I'm getting sleepily..."

"Of course I'm a good nurse! I'm a trained agent, I can do without my tech from time to time, you know?" She scoffed. "But I think the blood loss is the real problem..."

"I'll rest my eyes... while you finish down there..." he leaned back.

She put pressure on his injury, but Parker didn't wince. She'd numbed that part of his body before stitching. "C'mon, Webster, stay with me..."

Cat wondered if he'd been injured internally— if he'd been hit on the head, or something she couldn't see without E.D.I.T.H. or M.O.U.S.E., and that's when she panicked. She looked around, going to the kitchen felt like a whole street away if she couldn't see him. When she finished with the bandage she grabbed him and carried him out toward the bed. "I feel like a damsel in distress," he muttered against her.

"You're the madman," she corrected moodily, placing him on the mattress as carefully as possible. "What were you doing with those guys?"

"I was looking for intel."

"Intel?"

"We need to figure out those defense satellites, right?" He mumbled, one hand pressing his bandage. Cat slapped his hand away. "But things went south fast..."

"Why didn't you tell me?" She demanded.

"Can I get some sugar now, please?" His head fell on the pillow. "Remember I lost blood?"

"Don't lay down!" She pulled him back up and against the headboard. Cat went to the kitchen and grabbed an apple juice from the fridge. She stabbed the small box with one of her claws to widen the opening so he could drink from it easier. "Don't finish it all at once, you'll throw up," she warned him.

Parker stared at the box and drank a little, she kept an eye on his wound. The mutant then glanced at her bloody hands. The sight made her shiver, she didn't want to imagine what would happen to him if something like that were to happen once she was gone. Parker looked at her guilty expression.

"I didn't want to put you at risk," he said hoarsely. "You keep saying how it's a relief to leave all the persecution behind, I didn't want you to go through it again."

Her gaze softened. "I rather being at risk than wake up to you bleeding out in the bathroom."

The young man stared at her hands, he held one of them and examined the blood on her fingers in detail. "I'm sorry, I know you hate the smell."

"I've had blood on my hands before," she moved away from him. "At least this time I was trying to save a life, instead of taking it..."

His eyes were fixed on her, lips pressed together in a pout. "I wish you didn't have to live like that..."

"What makes you think I have to and not that I want to?"

Parker grabbed her hand again and guided it to his chest. She'd never paid attention to the scars there, but at that moment they stood out on his skin like an encrypted message she was eager to decipher.

"D'you think I wanted to get hurt?"

Cat felt a heartbeat but she wasn't able to tell whose it was. "I think you wanted to do the right thing."

"That's what I think about your scars too."

His hand moved from hers and stopped at the crease of her elbow, caressing it. Cat was unable to push him away this time, worse yet, she couldn't move either. She stared at his scars more intently, her fingers following the lines. She pressed on them lightly. Parker breathed in sharply through his nose, she could hear his heart doubling its pace.

"Do you really have to go?" He asked weakly, it sounded like he'd held back those words for too long. "Do you want to?"

She thought of the scars Kurt certainly had gained after the hell he'd gone through, the ones Peter and Kate would get if they tried to fight Kraven, if they could even walk away in one piece. Cat moved her hand away.

"You're making it harder to figure it out."

Next Chapter—>

Taglist.

@mikaelsonwhxrebae​​​​ @ieatpanicattacksforlunch​​​​​​​​​ @jesuswasnotawhiteman​​​​​​​​​ @siriuslysirius1107​​​​​​​​​ @greengarsstuff​​​​​​​​​ @itsyagirl01 @23victoria​​​​​​​​​ @espressopatronum454​​​​​​​​​​ @jkthinkstoomuch

#twoidiots writing #marvel #marvel fic #marvel fanfic #marvel fanfiction #marvel original character #copycat fic

[anomalouscorvid]

Would you be comfy sharing some vivat and n-662 lore? I’d like to hear it if you do

woooo ok.... so first of all, vivat (she/he) is a starfruit frux. so, in essence, a bug that's piloting a humanoid body formed from an alien starfruit, hence the fruit juice taking the place of gore. he's also an unusually long-lived frux, if he gets past his twenties. n-622 (note: toyhou.se page needs updating), her partner, was a neo priest notail - so, thoroughly hating the gods - and also an anthropologist, for lack of a better word since neither tailed nor notails are considered human. n-622 is kind of an example of how sometimes if you're just sitting there the limbo gods might still fuck up your life for no apparent reason, one day she just woke up as a tailed and might have no records of her ever existing anywhere in any databases but i might go back on that.

now, tailed hate bugs, apparently there's no way around it (in canon, at least) they just hate them. i'm not sure if a specific reason has been given since i left the events server but anyway you can see how that would conflict with n-622's gf being a bug in a fruit. from vivat's point of view, she thought she'd found the one and was in ~true love~ but then a holy furry happened and suddenly they seemed to be getting more distant. n-622 didn't really share the same view even before the sudden furryness, her temper and nerves and etc. had been.... fraying for a while, the innate bug hatred just hit something in her. so unfortunately the amount of cute just-being-together art i've made of the two is a lie.

but anyway n-622 killed someone else's intelligent centipede pet (a tailmic) and, y'know, had to flee to avoid that someone's wrath. maybe also to go to fortuna for a cure to her situation. so vivat followed her, in the hopes of at the least getting to ask "??? what the fuck is going on ??"

and.... i haven't gotten around to figuring out what else goes on in between! just vibes. on an unrelated side note, i just noticed that i decided that e-47430 is very againt the Radical in particular, and n-622 is also very against the Radical. didn't even mean to have that connection, e-47430 was just a convenient already-existing tailmic-owning oc

i know that, at some point, vivat catches up to n-622. n-622 is kind of very homicidal, could've been mostly the bug hatred/limbo influence building up or it could've been that the bug hatred just gave her that little push needed in the beginning. so she attempts some murder, as you may have guessed

at this point... it kind of goes either way? either vivat survives with a few chest scratches, and kills n-622 in self-defence. takes her hardened mask-like face and horns as a memorial, perfectly normal. gets rid of the body in a fashion honouring typical notail traditions (tossing it in the trash, seriously that's what's done for notails). or, the option i depicted in my latest n-622 art, n-622 successfully rips the bug out of 'vivat''s chest. some bug crushing takes place, very dead starfruit goth. possibly around that moment, or slightly after, n-622 realises "oh, wait, my life has just been a cautionary tale as to why even a perfectly unremarkable anti-priest might still be targeted by a god just for existing. 3> also, i just killed the former love of my life what the fuck 3>", or maybe she never realises and just kind of accepts it as an unwillingly holy being, maybe to be seen as an example of a former anti-priest tragically dragged into honouring the limbos, my thoughts about this are very vague

but yeah, not a happy ending to the story either way, i've kind of been leaning towards vivat surviving just because then she's easier to use as a character afterwards, but n-622 surviving could also be interesting

#vivat (oc) #n-622 (oc)

[highlifeboat]

Do you have any ideas/headcanons for some of the stories Angela and Alcina have? Maybe some antics they dealt with/got up to? What was Angela like as a young maid? Were they as sassy as they are now? Did they become Alcina's favorite just because of time spent together or was there something about them she liked?

Angel is not an OC I think about a whole lot (even though I do like them), but heck I can think up a few things.

One of Angel’s personal favourite stories to laugh about is when they discovered that Alcina had a minor (major) crush on one of her longer lasting maids back in the 80s. Some brunette woman they can’t remember the name of (“Amilia.” Alcina always has to remind them “Her name was Amilia.”). They used to tease Alcina about it, tried to convince her to just tell the woman her feelings, ect. But their favourite part to recount is when Alcina had been so distracted by a passing “Hello.” from the woman that she’d forgotten to duck and slammed her head off a door frame. She fell on her back and it took a lot for everyone who saw not to laugh (Save for Daniela and Cass, who openly giggled/snickered, and Bela who tried to see if her Mama was okay). Angel still bugs her about it (and Alcina never did get to asking Amilia out after that display).

They don’t bring up Miranda much when they talk (for obvious reasons), but when they do it’s usually about that one time Daniela and Cassandra came busting into Alcina’s office. She was in the middle of talking with Miranda about the girl’s growth, Angel was there just to serve wine/food if asked. They’d been pouring Miranda’s glass when the girls came in, play fighting as they do, and bumped into Angel. The wine spilled over Miranda’s dress which she was none too happy about. After all was said and done and Miranda left, Angel tried to cheer Alcina (and the girls) up by pointing out how funny the initial shocked look Miranda had was (and maybe mocking her angry tone slightly). It worked on the girls better than Alcina, but she can laugh about the whole thing now.

Some other minor antics/stories they reminisce on/talk about

That one time Alcina got stuck in a chair and Angel couldn’t stop laughing while they tried to get her out.

When the girls stole Alcina’s hat and hid it, and Angel “helped” her look for it for nearly a day despite seeing where the girls had hidden it.

When Angel slipped and hit their face off the corner of Cassandra’s nightstand, resulting in the scar over her right eye (They also blame it for their blindness, as a joke)

The fact that Angel did (and still does) have a painfully obvious crush on Heisenberg of all people. (Quote Alcina “I don’t understand straight people at all….”)

When the girls had been sedated for one of Miranda’s tests, and Angel was tasked with helping Alcina deal with the resulting loopy trifecta of dumb flies that was her daughters in the aftermath. (They had a lot of fun laughing at the girls and their drug induced rambles, though)

And that one time Angel learned why honey is such a dangerous ingredient to openly use.

The sass definitely came more with age, y’know, when they stopped caring as much about everything. But Angel always seemed very content with what happened and the fact that they were made into a servant. They didn’t openly complain, save for about a few people and the Head Maid at the time who was just a pain in the ass, and they never questioned when they were given a job. Alcina liked them because they were a great worker and quickly made them into more of a personal servant than just a general maid.

And from there they just… slowly bonded. Angel was genuinely interested in what Alcina did outside of murder people, and Alcina was happy to have someone want to talk to her. Truth be told, she’d been pretty lonely. Even with her daughters around (It's not quite the same as adult friends, even though Angel was only like... 19-20ish at the time). Their chats went from just general work talk to more personal things over time and soon they were having tea and talking like two suburban moms over Sunday brunch. Angel’s been Alcina’s friend/favourite ever since. (And the favouritism shows)

#two more unrelated tidbits #angel was probably the first openly nonbinary/agender person alcina knew (even if it took them a while to tell her) #and alcina had considered asking angel out until they told her they only liked men #asks #coleblackblood #oc angel

[paigelts05]

FNAF - I know you're in there!

https://www.deviantart.com/paigelts05/art/FNAF-I-know-you-re-in-there-883911006

Published: Jun 27, 2021

Renegade File Server Location: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23858029

This posting contains art, a story, and a micro rant about bugs in applications.

Warning: mentions blood, injuries, and use of thumbscrews.

I do not apologize for the rushed quality of the art.

I basically speedran this drawing as all of my drafts are stuck in the master app because for some reason, logging in with Google on the amino master app on an Android device isn't working as of 23/06/2021. In the meantime, I've been using the FNAF amino standalone, and both the FNAF amino and Arts and OCs amino on browser. I know the issue is with the master app or Google and not my account as I was able to log into amino on the Firefox browser.

With that our of the way, I would like to introduce this rushed bit of art.

I was browsing various collections on AO3 and found out about something known as 'bad luck bingo'. I don't have a Tumblr, but had a look at what it entailed and the prompt list.

Because I was not joining a challenge and doing this for fun, I made a small list of sad things and made a Vannis (Luis Cabrera X Vanessa | Vanny | Reluctant follower) fic about it.

I chose the following: can only move the eyes, mind control/ Ghostly possession, and at the end of story, it reveals thumb screws + scarpia ultimatum but instead of the usual, it's "let your body get used to murder people or I will use your body anyway to kill your boyfriend".

Fun stuff! So I wrote a short fic and didn't know what scene to draw.

But because I had to rush this out the gate it made choosing a lot easier.

=°•.🌹 Story 🌹.•°=

°*°•°*°•°*°•°*°•°*°•°*°•🌹•°*°•°*°•°*°•°*°•°*°•°*°

It was a normal day. Ness had been living with Luis for quite some time; in part so that she wouldn't suddenly vanish again, part because she didn't want to go back to her apartment, and part because she had wanted to move in with Luis for a while, and this situation was a perfect excuse.

They had decided to watch a movie together. A film from the 2010's that they hadn't watched in years but both found that they had watched as a child. About half way through, Ness asked Luis to pause the film for a second.

"I need to grab a drink. I'm thirsty. I also need to pee."

"Ok. Don't rush, but please don't take three hours. If you feel ill like last time, just say something. Even if you think it's normal." Luis replied.

"Will do!" Ness said as she left the room. Last time she felt ill, she wound up throwing up in the toilet. The time before that she'd rather not remember.

The movie was paused on a rather funny looking frame, catching the smear between key frames. It made Luis laugh a little, and he realised how tingly his legs were from being sat in an awkward position for so long, so he decided to stretch his legs by walking around the living room, revealing an awful cramp in his foot.

After who knows how long of walking in circles to try and get rid of the cramp, Luis heared Ness walk downstairs. Then he heard the back door creek open.

"Ness, did you just go outside?"

Luis had to ask. He was always worried when the door opened.

Ness didn't reply.

Luis had a bad feeling about this and bolted towards the back door, and seeing it left open, he bolted outside, not bothering to even put on shoes.

"Ness? Where are you?"

He shouted in a panic, wondering where she could have gone. He then heard footsteps and rushed towards them. A bad instinct, but Ness could be in danger.

His instincts were dead on.

A woman in a patchwork fursuit was standing in the street. Luis knew this was Ness.

He also knew that Ness wasn't in control in there anymore.

"Damnit," Luis cursed himself out, "of course this was going to happen. No way it was just going to be over like that."

The suited woman turned to look at Luis and and placed a finger to her lips before rushing at Luis with a kitchen knife.

Ness definitely had no say in this fight. It was him versus whoever was controling Ness. He knew who this controller was, but his mind blanked as adrenaline coursed through his body.

Luis dived to the side, the knife cutting his shoulder, but nothing more.

'A lucky break,' Luis thought. The cut stung and was fairly small, but he knew that this was just the first of what was to come.

Luis managed to steady himself, but Ness, no, Vanny struck again, bearly missing but managing to grab him and throw him to the ground. She laughed in a voice that didn't sound like her as she plunged the knife towards Luis.

The knife grazed against his back as he rolled out of the way. As Vanny was recovering, he managed to get back to his feet and decided it was his turn.

He threw himself at Vanny with a shoulder barge, aiming to knock her to the ground. Perhaps if he was able to get that cartoonish rabbit head off her head, she would return to normal.

The hit connected, but only sent her stumbling back a bit, but not before Luis heard some slight crying from within the suit, and she recovered from the blow quickly, slashing again. This time, the hit connected, creating a deep wound in Luis's arm - the same one as the slight nick from earlier.

He was bleeding, but that wouldn't stop him. He knew that Ness was in there and that she needed his help.

Luis dashed again, seeing if an elbow to the gut would topple Vanny, but it didn't work. Whilst she may have stumbled back for a second, she recovered inhumanly quickly and grabbed Luis by the throat.

"What do you even want with her" Luis was able to eek the words out before the cloth paw tightened around his neck.

Vanny didn't answer. She just laughed, but behind the laugh, sobs could be heard, as if two separate entities were inside the suit, and tossed Luis to the ground and trapped him underneath her, a leg either side of his torso, but most of her body weight being used to keep him on the ground and from rolling away again.

Vanny laughed as she held a knife above Luis's throat, but no amount of laughter could mask the cries coming from under the rabbit hood.

In one last ditch attempt to save both Ness and himself, he reached up, grabbed the rabbit head by the ears, and tugged as hard as he could.

There was a gasp of air and metal collided with tarmac.

"LuisI'msosorryItriedtostophimbut-"

"Shhh, you're talking a million miles an hour, but it's ok. Let's go back inside."

Ness was shocked as to how calm Luis was. She had just tried to kill him - I mean, it wasn't exactly her, but William using her body - but he was so calm. Even though both thier hearts were beating at a million miles an hour, he seemed so calm whilst she was so shocked and scared.

Ness nodded and managed to stumble to her feet. Luis - somehow in a better condition than her - picked up the rabbit hood and knife after clambering to his feet. The two then made thier way back inside.

After locking the suit in a box - as destroying it may insentivise making one again or worse, Vanny running around with no visible tells of it being Vanny - and Luis washing the knife - he was the only one cut by it anyway - it was time to tend to the wounds.

Luis - despite bleeding out of his arm - grabbed the bandages out of the cupboard and begun to clean and bandage his cuts.

He winced as the antiseptic burned the area around the wound, but he knew he had to clean it out, lest it get infected. After the wound was cleaned, it stopped bleeding and looked nowhere near as bad.

"Guess it was just a minor flesh wound," he said as he then begun to bandage the wound.

"Do you want me to help?" Ness meekly asked, having changed into pajamas and a mismatched pair of winter gloves.

"Du yuh hink yuh can ush a hafety hin whith your hands in those ghluves?" Luis's words were mostly muffled by the fact he had a bandage in his mouth, but Ness knew what he said.

"Umm," Ness wasn't sure, "I'll try."

Ness took the safety pin from Luis and pinned the bandage in place. Luis was then able to take the bandage from out of his mouth and finish wrapping up the wound.

Luis then moved on to the the various grazes on his head and back, cleaning the grit out.

"Ness? Why are you wearing gloves? Are you cold?" Luis asked as he winced as he picked another bit of the pathetic excuse of a road surface out of his neck. "You were wearing some when we were watching the movie too. Is it really that cold in here?"

Ness stayed quiet, but sighed, knowing she couldn't keep it a secret forever. "No. The temperature is fine. It's just... Take a look for yourself..."

Ness removed the gloves and showed Luis her hands.

The tips of her fingers were bloodied and bruised and the nails were snapped down the middle. After the order of thumb screws came through to the office, Luis had done a bit of research into the medieval torture device, just in case, and recognised the damage.

"Thumbscrews?" Luis asked, already knowing the answer.

Ness nodded.

"I guess we didn't hide them well enough." Luis replied.

"He made me use them." Tears welled up in Ness's eyes as she spoke, "He has more control than I thought he did. He also told me that if I didn't let him use my body as a means to kill things, he'd make me kill you..."

Luis was shocked, but not entirely suprised. He should have expected something like this from someone like William. Cassey had told them the identity of Glitchtrap many times, but sometimes when things got stressful, it was easy to forget such an average name.

"It's ok," Luis said, "I'm just going to look up how to help ease the pain of those wounds. And no more gloves. That'll just agitate it."

Ness nodded and smiled.

A few minutes later, they were back on the sofa with the movie resumed. The only difference from before the film was paused being that Ness now had an ice pack for her broken nails, Luis had a roll of bandages wrapped around his arm, and Ness had her glass of water.

°*°•°*°•°*°•°*°•°*°•°*°•🌹•°*°•°*°•°*°•°*°•°*°•°*°

Ship names for the web crawlers to find:

Luis Cabrera X Vanessa Luis X Vanessa

Luis Cabrera X Vanny Luis X Vanny

Luis Cabrera X Ness. Luis X Ness

Vannis

#2021 #fnaf #fnaf au #FNAF Renegade AU #Renegade AU #art #artwork #luis cabrera #fnaf luis cabrera #fnaf luis #vanny x luis #luis x vanny #vannis #vanny #fnaf vanny #reluctant follower #fnaf ness #fnaf fanart #fnaf ar emails

[shivasdarknight]

So I need to write this down anyways, so I might as well throw this out here, but these are Surkie and her partners' kids (at least the ones thus far). For clarification's sake: Surkukteni is engaged (and later married) to Ysayle, Estinien and Aymeric (so engaged quad/married quad). Surkukteni and Ysayle are dating Venat, and Surkukteni and Venat are seeing Gwendoline (oc; she also has her own partners on top of this). So as usual, all is below the cut.

(CW for child endangerment/infant endangerment but nothing bad comes of it (passing reference, kid is unharmed) in Yukiko's section, pregnancy mentions + trans masc pregnancy discussion in Orianne's section and a few others after that)

The oldest child is Allie, as in Allie from the Werlyt questline. Instead of staying in Werlyt with Gaius, Allie is taken in by Surkie and her then-partners Estinien and Ysayle (as she was taken in before Aymeric joined the relationship) to live with them. They figured it'd be good for her to get away from the major source of her trauma so she could recover. The offer was mostly to give her a space to recover and figure herself out and where she'd go from there. Even if Surkie and her partners had considered potentially adopting her, they didn't want to overstep and let her decide what she needed from them - be it just a temporary home before she went back to live with her sister (as Milisandia survives in this rewrite), or stay with them. She stayed with them in their apartment in Shirogane and bounced between there and the Rising Stones while she slowly worked through her trauma-induced despondency, slowly breaking out of her shell more and more with each individual - especially Ysayle and Estinien.

Allie moves with them to Ishgard while Surkukteni is pregnant with the twins, and it's a sort of unsaid change of relationship to her seeming to just...adopt herself into the family to a degree? She spends a lot of time with the quad, she seems to really look up to Ysayle, Fenrir (Surkie and Ysayle's big murder puppy that hates men) takes a liking to her, and she ends up taking engineering and machinist lessons from Stephanivien with Ysayle. So by the time that the twins are born, she's basically their daughter at that point - to where she's accidentally called everyone but Surkie a parental title (Ysayle, "mother"; Aymeric, "father"; Estinien, "dad"). Surkie really isn't too bugged by that since she deeply understands the issue at hand: even if Estinien was involved with the Weapons, he wasn't the one directly in battle with them.

But Allie does still care about Surkie and sees her as a maternal figure. She ends up inheriting Surkie's ARR jacket (seen above), she trusts her a great deal to ask her for advice and training, drags her off to show her the projects she's working on, and eventually decides to voice her feelings in a sheisty way in Endwalker when she decides she wants to join them on the Scion trips. While in Thavnair, Surkie runs into her Captain (basically father) and stops to talk to him in Yedlihmad, and Allie wanders over. When Kitase asks who this brat is, Surkie can't answer in time because Allie says, "Her daughter", before running off to avoid the fallout.

She does a lot of work with the Scions when she feels comfortable and goes to Mare Lamentorum, finding herself obsessed with the Loporrits, and further works on the project to create an automaton host for the Alfonse combat data they salvaged from the Diamond Weapon (so kinda Alfonse, kinda not? She understands this but still cares and keeps him around as a sort of robo dragon that can shift form).

She still sends Milisandia tons of letters and visits Werlyt when she feels she can. But mostly, she lives with the engaged quad and has really taken a liking to not being the youngest for once. Sure, it was an adjustment to go from living with these people she vaguely considered as guardians to suddenly becoming an older sister. She was never obligated by the engaged quad to help take care of the twins and following children, but she's been helping regardless since she views them as family now and partly wants to pull her weight (but also she adores her new baby siblings).

Allie doesn't move out as soon as she's an adult. Partly because she doesn't know what she's doing, partly because she still does work with the Scions so she might as well hang around, partly because of her work with the Skysteel Manufactory; but also she's just glad she has a safe, steady home for once and feels like she's making up for lost time even if she could legally head out on her own. She feels no pressure (and they would never pressure her) to move out, as honestly she's just happy to have living family.

Then of course, the twins. These two are the oldest of Surkie's biological kids and their sire is Estinien. Yukiko is their daughter, and Toskr is their son - they were born right before Endwalker. Yukiko (written as 雪子) was named after Ysayle, as her name means "snow child", is 6 letters long and starts with a Y. Yes, Surkie was being cheeky about it. Yes, Ysayle is really touched by the gesture and has cried about it several times. Toskr was named by Estinien and it's a shortening of Ratatoskr, which also made Ysayle bawl. So their names are extremely targeted but were both supposed to honor one person they'd thought they lost and someone who should've been more properly honored.

Toskr is the older of the two and also the healthier one. He's a quiet, bookish kid with a rancid attitude and no filter when it concerns his opinions. He goes out a lot on jobs with his parents or uncles and aunts and has thus learned how to be a gunbreaker (from his aunt, Altan), a monk (from his aunt, W'khittri - she and Altan are married at this point), and how to be a sage from Alphinaud whenever he visits. Also means he hangs out with Allie a fair bit since he got into engineering through Altan, and is forever fidgeting with different things he's tinkered with. He's also the one that gets constantly coerced by Orianne into doing her hair for her, so they often just spend the time debating shit since they're just Like That. He's the kind of guy that'd be a programmer if it existed, but it doesn't so he's got his sights on joining either the Skystell Manufactory or the Garlond Ironwroks. Keeps to himself, but honestly was a really clingy kid who was easily freaked out by his parents' allies (Vrtra especially). He and Orianne are the "helpful" siblings, in that when they begin to enter combat situations they'll do whatever role is most helpful and are usually the first to let their parents handle something that's out of their depth.

Yukiko is the younger twin and the underdeveloped one. Her parents were genuinely terrified that she wouldn't survive past her infancy, but she wound up too stubborn for that. She developed a fair number of chronic issues as she got older (genetic unfortunately on Surkie's side), and as a result hasn't had as many opportunities as her twin. Drives her crazy since she's forever wanting to prove herself as capable like her mother. If her parents were considered some of the most stubborn assholes on the star, their daughter inherited this tenfold. It's hard to tell her to not do something, harder to get her to acknowledge fault, and yet she keeps trying regardless. She's very close with Orn Khai to where they grew up together and allowed him to metamorphose into a mostly-forgotten morph more intended for dragon-dragoon rider pairs, and she downright refused to learn how to use a spear from her parents and instead frequently turned to Heustienne instead. She's a natural with black magic (scarily competent, actually), and ends up wearing Surkie down enough to be taught how to be a dark knight. Teodore helps her rein in her extremely powerful and extremely dark aether, Heustienne helps her with the lance (and she's somewhat allowed her parents to give pointers), and she really enjoys being allowed to train with her mother and Sidurgu. She frequently runs away from home as she also inherited both of her parents' wanderlust and its a common sight to see her dragged back home by one of her parents (usually Surkukteni or Estinien), or one of their allies (like Teodore). A few times it's Orianne, but she more uses it as an opportunity to lure Orianne out of the city so she has backup in her stupid antics. She's one of the "selfish dps" kids, in that it takes a lot to get her to be cooperative and she's heavy into preferring DPS.

It's not all fun and games with Yukiko, however. She does feel as if she's somewhat being held back by her parents, but part of their caution with her was that she was almost killed by Fandaniel when she was an infant. Instead of the canon 83 instance, Fandaniel instead drops Surkie in the Garlemald ruins with a single challenge: can she find her dear snow child in this frigid tundra before the infant freezes to death? Were it not for Hydaelyn interfering to keep her safe and warm, she'd not be alive to this day. Of course, it's an entirely disorienting thing to learn as a teenager but it does give her a bit of perspective to her parents' concerns.

Toskr definitely hangs out mostly with his aunts, Altan and W'khittri, but he's definitely a momma's boy and just silently seeks physical affection from Surkie and will just randomly lean against her, fall asleep at her side, hug her from behind everything - not for words, but very much for action and that whole "if i smother my parent maybe i can drown shit out".

Yukiko got really endeared to Ysayle as a toddler and followed her around everywhere. Same with Venat. Yeah, she likes her fathers and all and goes with Estinien on jobs around Dravania and Thavnair since she's become very endeared to the dragons thanks to Ysayle (unlike Toskr, she was really fascinated by Vrtra when they met him as infants), but she's slightly biased and thinks Venat is more fun most of the time.

Toskr is into woodcarving (something he picked up from Estinien), and Yukiko's gotten into gardening and metalworking (under Surkukteni's guidance on both). Toskr's a bookworm, Yukiko's very much so a jock. Also he's definitely going to end up as bi and she's gonna end up a lesbian - specifically a baby butch.

Orianne is the fourth kid. She was born during 6.X and is Surkukteni's child with Aymeric - though, unlike the twins it wasn't Surkukteni who carried her; she sired Orianne and Aymeric carried her (reminder: Surkie is intersex, and I write Aymeric as trans). Like both of her parents, she's intersex and trans. She was raised neutrally and named "Nergui" (a taboo named that means "no name") until she began to want to define who she was and picked her name. "Orianne" means golden and was a character from a book she liked as a little girl, and it's a name that's stuck. Also, clarification for Nergui and taboo names: they intended it as a placeholder from the start and just because it sounds bad doesn't mean what that would here. The practice is to give an ill-fitting or "bad" name to a child after a previous child died as a sort of hope that this one survives, and considering the scares with Yukiko? It was Surkie damn near praying to whoever would listen that they didn't take this child - Nergui at the time - from them too. So yes, it's a placeholder that means no name so Orianne could decide for herself (since Surkie never had that choice, raised as if she were afab), but it's also a wish that she survives and nothing bad happens to her. So yes, she's trans fem + intersex.

Orianne was born in Thavnair, which resulted in Zero being made her godmother (long story short: Zero was very confused by everything that preceded Orianne being born and wound up helping them out through and after mostly out of curiosity) and Vrtra and Nidhana looking after her quite frequently. She even still has her first baby blanket, which was Nidhana's doing because she kept hounding Surkukteni to pick a silk color based on the Sisters as that was the practice there (yes, the quest says the father picks but Nidhana wasn't about to have Aymeric do it considering how far along he was; and Surkie's the sire so) - and she's being born in Thavnair, so there's no reason why she shouldn't. So she still has the green silk blanket somewhere in her room, as it was a wish for a prosperous life and a wish that she'd not want for companionship. Yeah, it's also riches but she knew there wouldn't be a concern considering Aymeric's station. She just wanted her child to be loved and live a successful life.

Orianne's the Eorzean equivalent of a horse girl. She's obsessed with chocobos and basically took over the care of Prompto (Surkie's huge percheron) and was even gifted her own chick once she was old enough and proved responsible enough. She loves animals, she's basically her father's shadow as she made a habit of following Aymeric everywhere when she was a baby - forcing him to take her with him to meetings, which ended up fostering an early interest in civic work. ...Of course, it's not her passion as honestly she kinda wants to just work with chocobos, but she enjoys it because it means working with her family (namely Aymeric, Ysayle, and oftentimes Surkukteni on an Alliance level). ...However, this tie to family often means that she's easily tricked into doing stupid stuff like running away by Yukiko, mostly out of concern for her sister. So she gets roped into these dumb adventures very frequently.

Orianne learns three martial skills: Paladin, Red Mage, and Astrologian. One would think that she thought to become a paladin because of Aymeric, but it was actually from watching Fordola train with Surkukteni and her allies. She was so in awe of her that she wanted to learn how to do it immediately, and it took Fordola aback when she was asked to be Orianne's mentor. She agreed eventually, but no one - especially not Surkukteni, Lyse, and Arenvald - will ever forget how she looked like a deer caught in magelight when Orianne enthusiastically begged to be taught. Red magic was learned from X'rhun and Seraphin, as the two had done a fair amount of work in restoring the art; practice with Surkukteni and Ysayle very commonplace. And of course, astromancy from Leveva - rather, "Lord Rufin" - and Jannequinard. She knows both forms of astromancy - the predictive Ishgardian kind, and the restorative Sharlayan kind - and excels in the school of magic. So yes, she's one of the Helpful children since she's flexible in her role and listens to her parents' expertise.

She's a very proud girl with a strong moral compass, which honestly kind of makes some of her parents - Aymeric and Estinien especially - wish that she'd gotten the chance to get to know Haurchefant. At the very least, she is familiar with the Fortemps family from doing work with her father - so mostly Artoirel, though she avoids Emmanelain like the plague.

So yeah, really sweet kid but also a bit gullible who just really loves animals - but especially chocobos. Also like her bio parents: she's gonna end up bi.

Tseren is another 6.X baby, but this time is between Surkukteni (sire) and Ysayle. He's conceived during 6.2 by accident and they find out that Ysayle is pregnant at the end of 6.3 when Rubicante refuses to fight a woman with child, which sure was a hell of a way to find that out.

Ysayle spends the rest of 6.X in Thavnair, so she ends up spending most of her pregnancy there (iunno what's going on in 7.0 and I need to figure out when Aymeric feels comfortable going back to Ishgard since he's in Thavnair to remain stealth about the fact he's trans; no one gives a shit in Thavnair and if anything support him through it). Maybe Tseren is born in Ishgard, but I gotta decide that once we get more timeline information about 6.X. But it does mean a fun little thing with Zero having to view Ysayle in a very different light - as she thought she was just some warrior and eidolon summoner, but now...she's in a very domestic situation and it feels like tonal whiplash. I'm tangenting a bit here, but the last bit is there's also just this really cute thing with Ysayle and Venat building a relationship further while Ysayle's pregnant with Tseren which includes talking about having kids of their own at some point since motherhood for Venat is a very particular subject (as she's trans too).

But back to Tseren.

He's the first child conceived after Surkukteni fused with Diarmuid at the end of Endwalker to save her life. Thus he's the first child of hers after she became part Voidsent. ...And while it was bad enough that her aether is heavily aspected towards dark aether when she was pregnant with the twins, she's now part voidsent on top of that. So while she didn't carry him, she still sired him.

He's a creepy kid. Tseren winds up looking a lot like Myste when he's a kid and it does freak Surkukteni out. Tseren ends up cutting his hair at one point when he's a kid because he figured it out quickly (hard not to when Myste sometimes manifests to fuck with Surkie when the grief of...well a lot of things gets particularly bad), and so he has his parents keep his hair short until he's old enough to not have that passing resemblance anymore. He's very quiet and solemn, more preferring to listen than talk. He can talk, he's just...awkward. And with the rbf he got from Surkie along with the ND death stare, he comes off as a lot more intimidating than he actually is.

Don't get me wrong, he's still an edgy motherfucker. But he's the one who actually is learning to be a chirurgeon through Gwendoline. He spends a lot of time with her and learned conjury and white magic through her (and...honestly bits of necromancy). His natural affinity for umbral aether played into this. One would think that he would be good at black magic as an extension, but that's not where his talents lie. Tseren - instead - is the other selfish dps kid. He may be a white mage, but he's a green dps. He did learn lancework from Estinien and could technically become a dragoon, but that's not his preferred polearm: it's a scythe. He's a natural with communing with voidsent and has had a familiar (as he calls it) for quite some time now. Brigit is a bizarre voidsent, something similar to a kelpie if it'd stepped out of a lava lake instead. Her form is fairly fluid (ha) and has hung around Tseren for years before their actual pact. She's a voidsent that's held a lot of respect for Diarmuid Ua Duibhne (Surkukteni's voidsent), got curious about the kid and ended up being his only friend growing up. He learns how to better engage with the voidsent as he gets older from his mother and from his uncle Katsuro, and it results in him leaning super hard into reaper.

He's really close with Yukiko, and hilariously in a parallel to her as well: he's Ysayle's son, but he was really attached to Estinien while growing up. It's part of why he does train with Estinien in this rework of dragoon into something more akin to how it was pre-dragonsong war. While that's more Yukiko's forte considering Orn Khai, he finds that plenty of the skills transfer to how he works with Brigit. He likes alchemy and studies under Gwendoline and Nidhana, and won't stop following Zero around since he thinks she's really really cool. He might also hang out with G'raha a lot and has quietly started parroting a lot of his habits - because yeah, this kid may have inherited Surkie's autism. It's cute tho.

He draws, paints, and is really artistic on top of everything (they had a really hard time getting him to use canvas or parchment, the walls of the house would frequently be covered in paint...), and really enjoys studying old forms of art when doing work with G'raha and Krile. So yeah, of course he's an anthropology and art history type. This kid's going to grow up and is gonna be a disaster gay, just like his uncle Katsuro.

The last ones I have designed are Bolorsarnai (left) and Sarangerel (right), and these two are the most recent (as in just the last few days). I don't have a lot on them yet, but they're Surkie and Gwen's kids (Surkie is the sire again). They were planned, but they'd planned to have one kid; not identical twins. Needless to say, Gwen was a bit exasperated as she very clearly remembers the hassle Surkukteni went through with the oldest twins. So, she wound up staying with Surkie for the duration of that for the additional help (from her, from their girlfriend Venat, as well as Surkie's then-spouses). So yup, more aurezen, though they're the only ones that aren't Ishgardian elezen.

All I got for them right now is that Bolorsarnai is an extremely shy kid who wants to be a teacher and is really into linguistics, while Sarangerel is following Surkie's footsteps in becoming a botanist. She's constantly out in the Dravanian wilds or the Black Shroud studying the floral and arboreal life there and basically creating her own botanical guide with her own sketches and all. She does enjoy the more typical idea of gardening and wouldn't really be that interested in combat. She's also into carpentry and probably...one of the most normal kids, which is hilarious because one of her mothers is a necromancer, while the other is a demon summoner.

Bolorsarnai is absolutely gonna end up asexual, with a very strong sapphic leaning. Sarangerel, on the other hand, is a baby butch. And since Gwen is a femme, she ends up getting a lot of advice from her aunt, Altan. So yeah, they basically took Gwen's identities and distilled them: Bolorsarnai is a sapphic asexual (Gwen is demi), while Sarangerel looked at Gwendoline and went "nah I wanna be a different kind of lesbian" and goes running to Altan's camp. So yes, Surkie has two butch daughters and she loves them a lot.

There are other kids that I'm workshopping rn and have some ideas for, but I don't really have anything on them besides who their parents are. Rn I'm thinking

Surkie and Estinien second attempt, this time planned.

Ysayle and Venat have a kid together, though they don't realize that Ysayle was already pregnant prior to them trying and winds up pregnant with Venat's kid and Surkukteni's (because yeah, that's actually possible)

these two happen simultaneously because they kinda forgot to coordinate.

probably an estimeric baby, but after that Aymeric is checking out on further kids unless they can figure out how he can sire kids (which is research he's been actively funding); and honestly this is something I Am going to write, and Surkie has already promised that she'd be willing to carry in the event the procedure gets worked out as a way to make things even with them

Gwen and Venat definitely have one because they were planning two kids (one Surkie, one Venat) but y'know. Identical twins happened.

Venat and Surkie are another but I'm torn between accident vs planned

And an estiysayle one after the Surkie and Venat kids but idk when im still trying to figure this out

yeah yeah ik that's a lot of kids. but also consider that 1) medieval era, this really isn't that weird. 2) they're a polaym group, there's like 6 adults in the mix (~2.5 kids to every adult) so they're more okay with it than if they were any combination of monogamous - plus, with all their friends, allies and family? more than enough adults to give them the care and attention they need. 3) both Aymeric and Gwendoline have the money to support them, like that's really not an issue.

also designing fankids is fun and theres a lotta feasible combos here so leave me alone lmAO

Anyways I got pics of them in game since I did my best to recreate em, and I'll probably come back to this and update it when I get more of the kiddos designed. In the meantime, I'm gonna be scheming :3c

#writing #pregnancy mention #trans masc pregnancy mention #child endangerment #yeah those are scary tags but its just passing references and everyone's fine #anyways #wol lore #wolnpc #wolship #fanchild #fanchildREN #original #Surkukteni #surkie #anyways i think these kids are really cute and i wanna squish orianne's face #like the viera face was as close as i could get to my original sketch but shes so much rounder in game and its CUTE #god these are all aurezen babies #and theres only going to be more + whatever you classify as an ancient + an elezen or an ancient + an au ra #scary children #thats whats gonna happen w the venat/ysayle and venat/surkie kids #anyways yeah im rambly and i needed a place to put all this info so #y'all get it #yukiko #toskr #tseren #orianne #allie #bolorsarnai #sarangerel #edit: ....i forgot the fkn gwen/venat baby in the tags and the surkie/venat baby in the main text

[badheart]

oh gosh, you now have ocs! so cool! Tell me what made you make them? your inspirstion? 🥰

shh don’t tell em *casually sneaked them onto my blog*  these aren’t my first OC’s tho, but definitely ones, where I finally properly rp them 🥰 but also thx to my gf, and friend - cause if I didn’t have anyone to interact with, then they would just catch dust ahaha. 

For some reason I am very interested in the Yakuza. And at this point I don’t remember fully why or how it happened. But I am also biased towards Japanese culture (but also others) cause my own is um... there ain’t much, or nothing really old that plays still a huge role nowadays. 

Anyway, with that is the base set, basically the crime scene in Japan. And I really always wanted to interact with a police themed OC (but personally I have never spotted someone, except an detective in the past, who is sadly not active anymore), cause I like when two different sides clash, considering Kugo ain’t the most good person. And there is a series called Gi.ri/Haj.i on netflix, which was about a japanese detective, who had to find his yakuza brother in london, and it was very nice to see the culture differences, the stories of the side characters, anyway this series gave me lots of inspiring content. Jiro my yakuza, is even snatched out of the series, and now filled with hc’s. Jin my police oc, is heavily based on the protagonist. 

And there was also the big desire to write more about mature / adult themes, which I don’t get to explore all with Kugo, and my friends were luckily interested too. With Jiro I can explore the gang-life or finally a more bad guy, also a toxic relationship with his ex-gf. Then there is Jin, who is overworked, a family man, but honestly close to a divorce, not every marriage is meant for forever, but neither him or his wife has fully accepted it yet. Also some police work, with which I can bug all my mutuals who play crime-themed muses. Futaba is another bias, I finally get to rp a tall woman haha, but also another cop, but this time corrupt (aka exploring also the many bad sides of the police), she is also bit of a way of coping with everything going on, as I also explore war, and political topics with her, since she is very interested in that stuff and can hold some extreme opinions. 

Anyway I got myself a bunch of flawed muses, which hold many bad but also good sides, it is a nice mix I missed seeing in the rpc, since a lot don’t explore dark themes beyond death. It offers so much to explore, but also an unholy amount of research... 

I can give an example (with Kugo), how far my interest goes with more realistic topics. Ofc I don’t expect a Shonen Manga to point out those kind of consequences (for that I have rp), but not many realize that Ichigo basically killed a human being, and while Kugo had manipulated his family and all through his friend’s help, is it still justified to take his life? Why not prison, why not just a good ass-kicking? Ideally Ichigo should have called the police, and let them handle Kugo, but he took himself the right to judge himself - committing a crime as well, which was not even fully self-defense (ofc no easy case with the supernatural parts), but Kugo originally just wanted to leave, but Ichigo insisted on getting his powers back, and revenge (after getting his powers from the Shinigami). And even when Tsukishima died, Ichigo kept going, even though there was no more any reason to fight Kugo, his family & friends were free from Tsuki’s powers. 

Ichigo really became a killer / murderer in this moment, even though no one was really harmed of his friends (just total emotional roller coaster, which ofc is not okay either, not trying to deny this here) In our world this would have meant court and everything, and then there is also Ginjo’s family, who in canon is maybe still alive or not, either way... damn. One can question the morals, the possible consequences (or lack of) quite a lot here, and I find that very interesting and love to confront other muses with it. After all, Kugo’s world still plays in our modern one, and ofc there are laws in their country, which Ichigo ignored. 

I am biased, since Tite offered only a little bit about the possible turmoil in Ichigo’s mind or what his friends possibly think of him after this event, ... fuck I sure would not take it easy if my friend murdered another human being. But again yeah SHONEN MANGA... no expectations asdfgh.

But it is definitely nice that I can touch on those topics in rp. 👀

#╳ ——「 ooc.」 #╳ ——「 query.」 #illholy #😭 lettin me talk bout my bbys

[occultbrew]

Don’t Fear the Reaper | TEASER

Summary:

Jessie Tyler, the best friend to Chrissy Cunningham. Jessie and Chrissy are both being haunted by their dreams until one day, Chrissy is found gruesomely murdered. Eager to find the reason why, Jessie searches for answers. In the back of her mind, knowing she might be next.

18+

OC x Eddie Munson

authors note: please be gentle :) this is my first fic. it’s just for fun! enjoy,my loves <3

……………..……………………………………………………………

Hawkins, Indiana. Probably the last place you want to be. I have lived here my whole life and still yet to leave. Thankfully, it’s my senior year of high school at Hawkins High. Then, I can finally leave this shithole. It’s not all bad though. I have my best friend, Chrissy, to thank for that. She has been my rock through my whole life and always managed to make me smile. I have a habit of frowning while Chrissy can’t seem to stop smiling. We’re opposites in that way but similar in many ways. She practically begged me to join the cheer squad when we entered high school and after hours of her giving me a detailed list of why I should join, I finally agreed. Now, I’m not usually cheer material but I would do anything for Chrissy. It’s been hard but I’ve found that I enjoy the workout and it gives me a rush to be up in the air. The other girls can be rude but Chrissy and I tend to stick to each other and ignore their pointed stares. It’s been her and I against the world.

“Jessie Tyler! You’re going to be late!”

My eyes shoot open and I am welcomed by my mothers screeching voice. God she really has to tone that down. A simple shake of my bed would suffice but no, my mother wants to wake the whole goddamn neighborhood.

“I’m up!”

If I don’t yell back she tends to keep hollering and then she brings out the water. You do not want her to bring out the water. Dragging myself out of my warm bed, I trudge to my bathroom and I’m met with a horrendous sight. My hair is sticking in every direction and there’s dry drool on my chin. God, I’m an animal when I sleep. Splashing me face with cold water, I wash off the drool and silently gag while doing it. Drying my face, I grab my toothbrush in order to get rid of the terrible taste that has been festering in my mouth. Dozing off as I brush my teeth, I don’t notice the sound of footsteps in my room.

“Good morning!”

I practically choke on my toothpaste as I clutch my heart in shock. Turning to see the culprit, I am met with blonde hair and wide blue eyes.

“God Chris you about killed me”

I choke out while catching my breath. She just laughs and leans against the doorframe.

“Jess, you look like a car ran you over. You do realize you have like 5 minutes till we have to go?”

Chrissy is trying to hold in her chuckles as I glare at her.

“No Chris, I definitely didn’t know that. Yeah, no shit Sherlock. I had a rough night so I forgot to set my alarm.”

Avoiding eye contact, I can feel her worrying gaze on me. Feeling a hand on my shoulder, I turn to see Chrissy filled with concern.

“You’re having the nightmares again? I thought they went away after therapy?”

Chrissy questions me. Flashes of the terrors go through my brain, I squint my eyes trying to rid them. To be honest, they’ve gotten worse recently but I don’t know what’s setting it off. I think of ways I can avoid the topic but I know she’ll keep bugging me till I finally break.

“They did. But, it’s just been this week. Maybe I’m just having a weird week. Maybe PMS, who knows.”

I try to brush it off, because it’s probably nothing anyway. That’s why I didn’t tell her. Maybes it’s stress.

“So you’ve been having the nightmares all week and you didn’t think to tell me? Is that why you’ve been acting weird and distant all week?”

God, see this is why I didn’t want to talk about it. Chris gets worried for no reason and then I have to assure her it’s nothing.

“Chris, it’s really nothing, probably just an off week! I’m not the only one who’s been acting distant, y’a know!”

Chrissy pulls her hand back and widens her eyes. She’s been acting strange all week and I didn’t pry because I thought maybe giving her space would help. It’s like she’s not even here sometimes.

“I….I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Chrissy tries to cover her guilt with a smile. She always does this, brushes off whatever she’s feeling.

“Chris! Don’t lie to me, okay? You can talk to me. God, we’ve been friends for over 10 years! Trust me, okay?”

Grabbing her hand and give it a little squeeze. She’s been on edge all week. I don’t know what could be bothering her, we basically spend everyday together. Unless she’s with that asshole Jason. That’s it’s. Maybe it’s Jason!

“Hey, is it Jason? Has he hurt you?”

Chrissy yanks her hand away and widens her eyes.

“No, it is not Jason! God no, Jess!” She raises her voice as she says my name.

“Then what is it, Chrissy?”

I’m beginning to get irritated, if she gets to pry the truth out of me then I’m going to pry it out of her.

She closes her eyes for a second and take a breath.

“I’ve been having these dreams, Jess. Except they feel so real….I don’t even know how to explain it. They haunt me all night and it won’t stop.”

Tears fill her eyes. She looks terrified. I’ve never seen her this scared.

“What happens in these dreams?”

She closes her eyes as she tries to recall the dreams.

“T-They involve my mom. They all start out so real but then I always hear the same sound. It’s the sound of a clo-“

Chrissy is cut off by my mom swinging the door open. Chrissy quickly wipes her tears and gives my mom a smile.

“Girls, you’re going to be late! Did you not hear me calling for you?”

My mom looks exhausted and furious.

“Sorry, Ms. James! We’ll be down in just a second!”

Chrissy flashes her a sweet smile and my mother gives her a soft smile in return. God, she’s always liked Chrissy more than me. Always tells me how polite and sweet she is.

You should be more like her, don’t y’a think Jessie?

My mom leaves the room and Chrissy heads to the door.

“I’ll meet you downstairs, okay?”

Her voice is still a bit shaky form our interrupted conversation.

“Hey, wait, what sound did you hear in your dreams? You were cut off by mom.”

She shakily grabs the doorknob.

“I heard..the sound of a clock.”

My heart drops.

That’s exactly what I’ve been hearing in my nightmares.

#stranger things #eddie munson #joseph quinn #chrissy cunningham #eddie munson fic #chrissy deserved better #stranger things fic #eddie stranger things

[thedndgoblinwholivesinyourwalls]

OKAY NOW THAT I HAVE RISEN FROM MY TEN YEAR SLUMBER:

Harley as a young man was an avid explorer, he loved travelling the world and wilderness, he wanted to be a zoologist when he was younger and had a special interest in insects! So he's exploring this cave deep in a woods looking for some rare spiders and basically has a 'wow these are some big webs! Must be close' and keeps going like the stupid horror movie protag he was back then, and he ends up getting himself caught in one of the webs, and eventually the maker of these webs, Marie, comes home and low and behold she's caught this cutie in her web!! She's a GIANT drider, big eight legged spider body with a humanoid top half, eight blinking eyes and lil pincers on her upper lip.

She expects Harley to start screaming and try and get away [she IS planning on eating him] but he is just ENTHRALLED he is yes wide staring in awe and immediately starts askinh questions/complimenting her and she is just so delighted by this lil guy that she lets him down and entertains his questions until he has to go home, then he comes back the next day, and the next day, and the next until over time they fall in love!! And it's wholesome and adorable and they end up having kids [eggs, this is the real juicy lore, Poppy and Leo hatched from an egg] and life is good and awesome until well one of Harley's research buddies follows him and well uhhhh Marie has to go into hiding and Harley has to return to england to raise his kids alone :/

I LOVE HARLEY SM LOCKE AUGRAFGHHH HE’S SO SILLY!!!!!

Stupid horror protagonist harley beloved <3 he would stand in the most haunted house like ‘woah cool bugs’ while someone’s getting murdered and i respect him for it!!!

THATS WHY LEO HAS EIGHT EYES WAIT CUZ SHE’S SPIDER PERSON IS THAT WHY? (connecting the dots in my BRAIN)

Just a silly guy and a ‘terrifying’ (i say it like that cuz she isn’t but probably to others D: SHE ISN’T TO ME) spider lady talking about life <3333

egg children. woagh. HARLEY HARLEY AND MARIE NOOO I WILL DIE WHAT. DO LEO AND POPPY GET TO MEET HER AGAIN??

I AM NOT NORMAL ABOUT YOUR OCS MAN

#fun fact Ma Belle Evangeline from the frog movie came on when i was reading and typing this #uhm #so marie and harley coded #will cry actually #i need to draw them they are sooo sillyyyyyy #StarSiblings #others ocs #ask #hi locke!!

[ungusthebungus]

Limbs (Feitan x F OC)

Rating: M

Fandom: HxH

Relationship: Feitan x F OC

Characters: Feitan, F OC

Additional Tags: School, High School, Walks In The Woods, Murder, Kidnapping, Blood, Death, Loss of Limbs, Not Canon Compliant, Self-Insert

Summary:

Annie's walking home from school near the woods when she hears screams.

Usually, Annie would walk near the woods after school. Would she go into it? Fuck no. It was creepy as hell. Plus, she heard from one of her friends that serial killers dumped bodies there. Was she just making up shit? Probably. It still gave her shivers every time her passed by it.

“I’d walk you home today, but I have practice. Don’t die!” Her friend joked as the both of them went separate ways.

Her friend’s destination was the gymnasium while Annie’s was her house. Although her parents pestered her about getting into sports or finding a part-time job, she replied that she needed to focus on her classes. After that, they didn’t bug her as often.

One day, it was raining and already dark as she went along the trees.

“Help! Help! Oh god, somebody help!” A woman’s voice rang out.

Her heart beat faster. Oh god. Oh god. What the fuck was she supposed to do? She was just a high school student.

Taking out her phone, she realized she didn’t have any service. Fuck. Annie couldn’t just ignore her.

Racing towards the sounds, books dropped out of her backpack. She’d have to pick those up later or else she’d have to pay out of her pocket. God dammit. They were probably going to get soaked.

She reached a clearing in the woods and her jaw dropped. A bloody woman was tied to a tree screaming for help. Her arms appeared to have been ripped from her body. When Annie looked at the ground, she panicked. Arms and legs were scattered all over the ground. Her mind went back to what her friend said. Holy shit. She was right.

When the lady made eye contact with Annie, she shouted louder.

“I-I’m going to help you.” She stepped over the limbs to get to her.

Before she could get any closer, she saw a dark figure zoom quickly by her. Blood spilled suddenly from the lady’s neck and she slumped forward.

What the fuck just happened?! A few minutes ago, she was at least somewhat conscious. Annie had to get the hell out of there.

A knife pressed up against her throat.

“Who are you?” A person growled behind her.

“I’m sorry! I got lost.” Annie lied.

He didn’t drop the knife. Instead, he dragged it lightly across the side of her neck. A sliver of blood trickled down to her collarbone.

“New toy die,” He grasped her arm and dragged her to the tree, “You my new toy.”

Note: If you liked the story, feel free to give me a kudos! :)

#feitan #feitan portor #hxh #hunter x hunter #feitan x f oc #feitan portor x f oc