#ain't gonna do shit with her but she is an oc

[whatdoeseverybodywant]

Sorry - Chapter 8

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Series Masterlist

Jon barely shifted the Mustang into park before jumping out and sprinting toward the house's front door. “Dom!” he called, frowning as the house was deathly quiet. Glancing back, he noticed her car was not parked out front, and his heart sank further. He then walked over to the garage door, his frown deepening as he noticed it empty too. 

Sighing. Jon pulled his phone out of his pocket and dialed Dom’s number, cursing as it went straight to voicemail “Fuck” he muttered, rubbing his hands over his face in frustration. “So fucking stupid.” 

He tried calling Dom two more times before calling her sister. 

“Hello?” 

“Muf–” 

“You fucked up.” 

“Yeah, I know,” Jon replied, trying to keep his temper in check. “I need to talk to her, she with you?” 

“Mmhm,” Desiree, replied as she looked over at her sister who was sitting on the couch, staring off into space. “I don’t think she wants to talk to you, Jon.” 

“Look, just put her on the pho–” 

“Yeah, I’m not going to do that.” Desiree stood from her seat on the couch and went into the kitchen. “Going back to your ex is crazy Jon! What were you thinking?!” 

“I didn’t go back to my damn ex! I just–” 

“You just what? Went over there to chill?” She scoffed  “Just give her time. She’ll come  to you when she’s ready.” Desiree didn’t give him a chance to respond before she hung up the phone. 

“FUCK!” Jon yelled out and threw his phone down on the table. 

DominiqueWalkerr_

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DominiqueWalkerr_: felt cute, definitely gonna delete later 💋

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jonathanfatu: 😘 😮‍💨❤️

user: i miss jimmy with naomi!

↪user: YESS! was just talking about that on twitter! THEY complemented each other!

↪ jonathanfatu: don't do that! Take this shit outta my fiance's comments.

Friday Afternoon

Dominique stayed with her sister for the rest of the week. In her mind, she and Jon were over. There was nothing he could do to fix this. He ran back to his ex again ain't no way she was just going back to him. While she was in the wrong for not being honest about her stance on marriage he was even more wrong. 

Dominque let out an audible groan as she made her way into the arena that was hosting Friday Night Smackdown. She had tried every excuse in the book to get the day off, but it was short notice and they would have nobody to fill in for her. 

“Now whose ass do I have to beat for putting a frown on that pretty face.” Dominque stopped walking at the sound of a very familiar voice. She had a wide smile on her face as she made eye contact with Dave and walked closer to him. 

“Dave?! What are you doing here?” She said, giggling as he pulled her into a hug and lifted her off her feet.”

Dave Bautista looked like he hadn’t aged a day. Before Jon, Dave was the one Dominique thought she was going to marry. But after he left the WWE in 2014, their relationship couldn’t handle the distance. Their split was amicable,  with both of them being extremely civil with each other.  But as Dominique stood there in front of the first man she ever loved, she couldn’t help but think this was a sign. Maybe Dave was the one she was supposed to be with. 

“Y’all in my neck of the woods. Of course, I had to come by and see Hunter.” He said answering her question. “And you.” He muttered the last part, as his eyes did a sweep over her, she didn’t miss the way his stare locked on her bare ring ringer before meeting her eyes again. They stood there staring at each other before they both burst into laughter. 

“Whatever Dave.” She said as she rolled her eyes. 

“I had to try, I mean imagine my surprise when I found out you were engaged to little Jonathan Fatu. You know I used to hang out with his pops and uncles back in the day.” 

“You make it seem like you’re so old Dave,” Dominique said, rolling her eyes with a chuckle.

“I'm 53 years old Dee. I think that's pretty old.” They both laughed. 

“Oh fuck” Josh whispered, his eyes bugging out his head and she saw Dominique and Dave fucking Bautista talking. “Oh shit Uce… this ain’t good.” He said looking over to Joe who seemed very disinterested.  “Go interrupt them” 

“What?” Joe snorted, raising an eyebrow at Josh  Why me?” 

Josh sucked his teeth. “Cause ain’t you like friends with him or something.”  Joe let out a huff and began to walk towards Dave and Dominique but Jon stepped in front of him. 

“Um hello, you two don’t know how to answer a phone?” 

“Oh, uh..” Josh trailed off as his eyes flickered behind Jon. Jon frowned and turned around to see what Josh was looking at and his heart dropped into his stomach. 

“What the fuck?” He whispered as he watched Dave lean down and hug Dominique. his voice thick with disbelief as he watched Dominique respond to Dave's hug. Jon couldn’t tear his eyes away from Dominique’s face. The way she looked at Dave—it wasn’t just a friendly exchange. It was something else, something that made Jon’s chest tighten in ways he hadn’t expected. He could feel his pulse quickening, the jealousy crawling up his throat, even as his mind tried to catch up with what was happening.

“Jon…” Josh said hesitantly, but Jon wasn’t paying attention to him anymore. His eyes were locked on Dominique and Dave, his body tense with a mix of frustration, helplessness, and raw jealousy. “Aye man, relax.. They could just be catching up.” 

Josh and Joe shared a look before returning their attention to Jon who was glaring at Dave and Dominique. “Uce, do not go over there and start shit… Be level-headed. That’s Hunter’s boy… we don’t need no shit coming our way.” Joe warned. Jon sucked in a deep breath and gave Joe a curt nod before walking over to Dominique and Dave. 

Jon clenched his jaw tight as he made his way over to the pair. He cleared his throat as he got closer, causing Dom and Dave to look over in his direction. Dave looked between the of them before excusing himself. “Can I talk to you?” Jon asked her, his voice coming off more hostile and rough than he intended. 

“Jon..” Dominique trailed off with a sigh, her shoulder sagging as she turned her attention to him. “I don’t wanna fight with you.” 

"I don't want to fight either," Jon said, his tone softening slightly. He ran a hand through his hair, trying to calm himself. “I’m sorry. I just - You gotta know I wasn’t on no disrespectful shit Dom. I wasn’t even thinking... I was going to my mom’s and I just…” He trailed off with a shrug. “I shouldn’t have went in. I should have come back home to you.” 

“But you didn’t. Like honestly I’m at fault here too right? I mean I wasn’t honest about my stance on marriage but I have and would never do the shit that you did. Give that girl your number. Foul as fuck. And I forgave you for the whole Trinity situation the first time but now… I can’t” 

“I know I messed up,” Jon repeated, trying to keep his voice steady, but now refusing to make eye contact with her. “But, Dom, I didn’t go to Trinity for some… rebound or whatever you’re thinking. I just needed to clear my head. But that kiss.” He stopped himself, his eyes going wide as he looked over at her. He watched as Dominque inhaled a sharp breath and narrowed her eyes at him. 

“What kiss?” Dominique asked, he heart now pounding in her chest. 

“Dominique, please. I– she kissed me but I pushed her away immediately.” He tried to reach out and grab her hand but she shook her head and backed away from him. 

“Sure, okay,” She said as she rolled her eyes, not believing a word he said... “Here I was, just telling Dave that I was gonna swallow my pride and apologize to you and you out here running back to your ex?!” 

“I wish you stop saying that shit.” he hissed. “Ain’t nobody running back to Trin.” By now. Josh and Joe had walked closer to them ready to separate the couple.  Dominique snorted and crossed her arms over her chest. 

“So if you’re not running back to her what are you doing then?! You got drunk and went to her. You left our home and went to her and then your standing here telling me you kissed her?!” Dominique scoffed as she started backing away from Jon. “Nah, you got it. It’s obvious that you wanna still be with Trinity so i’m not gonna stop you. Go feel the glow or whatever.” 

Josh coughed out a laugh whiched cause Jon and Joe to glare over at him. 

“Dominique wait! Just listent to me.” Jon called out as he started following her down the hall. “I want you. I want to be with you! I wanna work this out.” 

Dominique suddenly stopped, causing him to almost bump into to her. She turend on her heels and glared at him. “I wanted to work this out too. But.. I can’t.. Not after you just told me you kissed her.”  Dominique shook her head and turned around again to walk away from Jon only to bump into someone. Once she seen who it was, she wasn’t able to hold back her emotions anymore. 

Dominique watched as Trinity gasped and looked past her to look at Jon, and that’s when Dominique lost it. Dominique's fist connected with Trinity's jaw before anyone could react. The sound of the impact echoed through the hallway, followed by a collective gasp from the onlookers. Trinity stumbled backward, her hand flying to her face in shock.

“Oh shit!” Josh called out, him and Joe rushing foward to try to stop the fight along with Jon. 

“Dominique!” Jon called out, grabbing her by her waist and pulling her away from Trinity before she could land another hit. “Stop.. Chill baby.” 

Dominique wrangled her way out of Jon’s grasp and before she could stop herself, she slapped him in his face. “I swear to god... I’m done. Stay the hell away from me!” She hastily wiped away the tears that were now coming down her eyes, she gave him one more heartbroken glance before walking away. 

Authors Note: huh... i mean y'all did say Dom was gonna drive Jon into the arms of another woman 😬

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[fully-caulked-wagon]

I couldn't've just let a drawing remain just a drawing, huh. Also don’t look at the hand- At first glance it’s better than the ones I usually draw are but I promise it’s still just as shitty and anatomically challenged.

[simplyzeeka]

Yes Day

Warnings: MDNI!! Smut, dirty talk, oral (f receiving, condescending dick Terry, unprotected sex (just... don't) p in v, oral (m recieving)

Pairing: Terry x plus sized!oc (Fatima)

Note: She was supposed to sl*t him out, but Terry said no, not happening and just took the reigns.😔

This one's short and sweet

He should have known better. Terry should have known better than to participate with his girlfriend in ‘Yes day’. He knew better than to indulge because he knew how Fatima's mind worked.

At first he thought it would be miniscule things, like getting him to add sugar in his grits in the morning, or get her to pick his clothes for work, because his baby wouldn't dare ask him to do the impossible, right?

Wrong. And unfortunately for Terry, him underestimating Fatima forced him into a very compromising position.

Knees to the ground and his wrists bound behind his back, in some black fluffy cuffs while her thighs closed around his face. All that and one rule that ran in his mind constantly. “No touching.”

So yes, he should have known better, because she was also speaking to him like she had lost her damn mind.

“Don't be mad, baby. I asked if you were hungry and you said yes.” he should have known better, because he knew she was a tease. “Now be a good boy, and eat.” Fatima guides his head deeper into her pussy, his nose nuzzling against her clit deliciously while he put his mouth to good use, indulging them both.

“Mhm, doin’ so good. Just like that, you ain't new to this hmm?” She coaxed, resting on her elbows as she stared into the beautiful petrichor of his eyes. “Uh uhn, my baby true to this, eating me so good. Keep going.”

That almost made him forget his predicament, always loved how she talked to him, never being one to shy away from being vocal. When Terry talked to her , best believe Fatima was gonna talk back.

Fatima's hand travelled to her supple breasts, groping softly as she threw her head back. “Eyes on me Fat, wanted me to eat so bad, so you gon’ watch.” And damn, did he love to talk to her.

The languid movements of his tongue had her leaning her crotch closer to his face, something about the way he curled the wet muscle that made her think he was urging her to come closer. She raised her head, looking down at him as he made beautiful love to her swollen nub. Terry hums against her flooding heat, sending agitated vibration through her pussy and straight to her stomach, and a little to her messy, deluded head.

He couldn't help but smile against the wetness of her folds, holding back a mocking chuckle, because even with his hands cuffed, even when she tried to take dominance, Fatima obliged to Terry’s every command.

She looked so pretty to him, her hair in simple straight back plaits. No make up on her face, showing every blemish, mole and pimple. Eyebrows a little outgrown since she missed her appointment to trim them, lashes long and lush, Terry swore they could kiss her cheeks.

Honestly, he could do this to her anyday, but the need to touch her burned him, just as it did Fatima, because she loved it when he touched her.

She was writhing now, his mouth not being nearly enough. “Uncuff me, baby.” a simple order, and she contemplated. Frowned as she pouted at the loss of his hot mouth against her mound, still, she nodded and slipped off the dinner table.

She should have known better. Fatima should have known better than to think Terry would let all of that slide. Should have said ‘no’ and wore his mouth out, let him put her to sleep.

Because now, Terry was so deep inside her that Fatima would the one to fuck around and put a ring on him. He put it on her like he wanted death to be the reason they part, cause there was no way Fatima would ever fully allow him to fuck anyone else like the way he was doing her. “Fuck you thought this was? Telling me not to touch you like you run shit. Fix that arch, Fatima.”

They have moved from the dinner table, now on the couch as Fatima rested her elbows on the armrest as he drilled into her gushy folds. He reached the most unreachable depths of her cunt with each thrust, well at least she thought they were unreachable until now.

He gripped at the flesh of her hips once she did as told, then picked up the pace as he began with his much appreciated torment. “Can’t ever let us have a good day, hmm? Always gotta run your mouth.” There is a small slip of a whimper as he speaks, that sound alone being enough for Fatima to fuck him back, just to draw more out of him.

“M’sorry baby, fuck, Im so sorry.” She was clenching around him so much, in hopes that that would stutter his movements, but with the way she spilled her excitement around him, that only made it easier for him.

With his bottom lip captured between his teeth, Terry awes at the beautiful sight of her slick coating his dick, her hums in approval. “I know baby. Makin’ it up to me. You wet as fuck, Fat. Dammit.”

His moans were enough to motivate her to gyrate her hips, catching each and every thrust he threw at her with skill. There was something about the way Terry spoke, something about the baritone of his voice and the slight slur of moans that had Fatima wanting to do anything he wanted. He's always had that kind of leverage over her, barely had to do much to get what he wants, he just had to ask in a way that had her constantly clenching her thighs together.

“There you go, Fat. Keep on baby, you gonna catch this nut baby, hmm? Have my baby?”

And as always, she would say yes, because Terry fucked her so good. Stroked his initials with the tip of his dick in the depth of her warm cunt. Places she was sure no one would be able to reach. “Oh my… fuck yesss.”

“Yeah? You so nasty Fatima. Why you letting my fuck you like this?” Always so full of mocking, but then again, condescending Terry was always the best to give dick, and dick dumb Fatima was always the best to take it. A great team they made

“Can't even speak. But you was talking all that shit earlier.” Terry slowed down to deliver a slow and deep stroke that had Fatima reach and arm behind her and push at his stomach. “Fuckkk, let up T.”

Terry shook his head, grabbed her arm and pinned it to her back. He continued offering the slow stroked, a frown on his face as sweat dripped down onto Fatima's back. His legs were getting tired with how long they've been at it, but he ignored the burn in his thighs, kept going, he was nowhere near done.

“I'm ‘bout to nut. Milk me dry baby, c'mon.” Terry coaxed, maintaining the slow, steady pace of his hips while he felt his orgasm nearing closer, specifically because Fatima couldn't stop clenching around his dick, doing just as he had ordered.

“Fuckk you did so good baby. Just like that.” Terry coached her through his game, pumping in and out of her. Consciously pumping his nut inside of her. “There you go, pretty girl.”

Fatima slumped on the couch once she felt Terry slip out of her. She heard Terry shuffle around, but couldn't find the energy to turn and look over at him. She did hear the soft pattering of steps, the carpeted floor not being enough to drown Terry's steps.

She only looked up when she felt a fan of breath on her face. She came face-to-face with Terry's face, his hand met her head and ran his fingers between the parts of her plaits. He was still stark naked and crouched on the floor, admiring Fatima's messiness. “You good, baby?”

Fatima could only nod with a small smile, blinking up at him. “Hm, good. Take a lil’ break, we ain't done.”

And soon enough, after he wiped her clean and gave her water to drink, Terry had his dick stuffed in her mouth while he sat on the couch, letting her apologise for her stupid requests with little gags and whimpers for the rest of that evening.

Note: I'm thinking of starting a taglist, for all my fanfictions. If you want to be added, please comment or send a dm

[acknowledge-reigns]

Freakend | Zilla Fatu x Black!Fem OC (SMUT) 18+!!!

Kinktober Day #3: Pussy Slapping

"We been fuckin' all weekend, I'm surviving off of your semen (yeah, yeah, ah)

My attitude gettin' bad, think I need to be fucked good..." 🎶

Description: Serenity decides to test Zilla.

Warnings: Daddy Kink, Pussy Slapping, Praise, Dom/sub dynamic, Bratting, Edging, Degradation, Oral (Fem Receiving), fingering.

Face Claim: Tyla

My masterlist can be found here and my kinktober schedule can be found here.

MDNI!! 18+ CONTENT BELOW THE CUT.

My fics are about Zilla, not Isayah!

tag list - @mysticreigns2 @queeny23 @jeyusos-girl @notfancyrebelpaper @xbriexx @skyesthebomb @mzv11 @paigereeder @glitterywitchstarlight @v4mp-reads @hunnidmilly

Zilla walked into the room having just gotten out of the shower, a smirk on his face as he saw Serenity waiting for him completely naked and on her knees. The pair had been on the road most of the summer wrestling all over the Indies only just now taking a breather. Home. They'd been together about a year and had just gotten an apartment together. The plan was to spend the weekend fucking and binging horror movies.

"Oh, so you ready to play, huh babygirl?" he asked, his voice low and dominant.

Serenity looked up at Zilla with a mixture of submission and excitement in her eyes. She nodded, her heart racing with anticipation.

"Yes, Daddy," she replied, her voice soft and submissive. "I'm ready to play."

Zilla chuckled, his eyes roaming over Serenity's body as he walked closer to her. He stopped in front of her, towering over her.

"Good girl," he said, "You know what I like, don't you? You know how to please your Daddy... Face down, ass up."

Serenity obeyed, quickly getting into position on the bed, her face pressed into the sheets and her ass up in the air. She was completely exposed to Zilla, her body trembling with anticipation.

Zilla climbed onto the bed behind her, his hands gripping her hips firmly. He ran his fingers over her ass, appreciating the smoothness of her skin.

"Shit.. You look so good like this, baby," he said, his voice low and husky. "All mine to do whatever I want with.."

Serenity couldn't help but feel a little sassy. She wiggled her ass, looking back at Zilla with a smirk on her face.

"You gonna just stand there and admire the view, or you gonna do something?" she asked, her tone playful and bratty.

Zilla raised an eyebrow at Serenity's sassy comment, a smirk spreading across his face. He loved it when she got bratty.

"Oh, you think you being cute, huh?" he said, his grip on her hips tightening. "You want me to do sumn'? Bet, I'ma show you what happens when you get mouthy with me."

Serenity couldn't help but grin, her heart racing with excitement. She knew she was pushing her luck, but she loved the thrill of seeing how far she could go with Zilla.

"You gonna punish me, Daddy?" she asked, her voice still playful. "Is that what you're gonna do?"

Zilla swiftly repositioned Serenity, rolling her over onto her back and pinning her arms above her head with one hand. He straddled her, his muscular body still glistening from the shower.

Zilla spread Serenity's legs wide, exposing her completely to him. He looked down at her, his gaze intense.

"Keep these legs open," he commanded, his voice firm. "Or yo' ass ain't cumming tonight"

Serenity shivered at Zilla's words, her body already aching with need. She nodded, her eyes locked on his as she kept her legs spread wide open for him.

Zilla leaned down, his mouth hovering just above Serenity's pussy. He could feel the heat radiating from her, and he could see how wet she was for him. He took a moment to tease her, blowing softly on her clit.

"You want me to eat this pussy, babygirl?" he asked, his voice low and rough. "You want Daddy to make you feel good?"

Serenity whimpered, her hips bucking up involuntarily. "Yes, Daddy," she breathed, her voice shaking with desire. "Please, I need you to eat my pussy. I need to feel your mouth on me."

Zilla smirked, satisfied with Serenity's response. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to her inner thigh, nipping at the sensitive skin. He moved closer to her pussy, his breath hot against her skin.

"You taste so good, babygirl," he murmured, before finally diving in and running his tongue along her slit.

Serenity moaned loudly as Zilla's tongue worked its magic on her. He lapped at her clit, alternating between slow, lazy strokes and quick flicks of his tongue. He could feel her body trembling beneath him, and he knew she was already close to the edge.

Zilla pulled away from Serenity's pussy, his hand coming down on it with a wet slap.

"That's for being a brat," he growled, his eyes dark with desire. "But I think you liked it, didn't you? You like it when Daddy spanks your pussy, don't you? fuckin' slut."

Serenity gasped at the sting of the slap, her body arching up off the bed. She couldn't deny the pleasure that shot through her at Zilla's rough treatment.

Zilla raised his hand again, ready to deliver another slap to get wet needy pussy, but she quickly and instinctively closed her legs, trying to protect herself.

He chuckled darkly, his eyes narrowing as he roughly forced her legs apart. "Hell nah. Open them legs back up."

"Sorry, Daddy!" She whimpered.

Zilla smirked, satisfied with Serenity's apology. He leaned in close, his breath hot against her ear.

"You gon' keep your legs open, no matter what. Understand?" he growled

He slapped her pussy again, harder this time, before sliding two fingers inside her. "Who owns this pussy?"

Serenity cried out as Zilla's fingers slid inside her, her body clenching around them. She looked up at him with a mixture of submission and desire in her eyes.

"You do, Daddy," she gasped. "You own my pussy. It's all yours."

Zilla smirked as he continued playing with her, his fingers pumping in and out of her with a rough, steady rhythm. He could feel her walls clenching around him, and he knew she was getting close.

"That's right, babygirl," he growled. "Cum for Daddy. Let me feel you cum all over my hand."

Serenity moaned loudly as she came, her body arching off the bed as waves of pleasure crashed over her. Her pussy clenched tightly around Zilla's fingers, her juices coating his hand as she rode out her orgasm.

"Oh, Daddy," she panted, her voice shaky. as he licked her juices from his fingers as if it were his favorite dessert. "That was amazing."

"Was I too rough with you, baby?" He questioned as he pulled her into his arms holding her close.

"You were perfect" Serenity said.

[dreamskug]

[ SUBJECT INTERVIEW: ÍVARR ]

NICKNAME:

NOT "Gramps". Not for you, anyway. Just my name.

GENDER:

Male.

STAR SIGN:

Why, checking if we’d match? Hah. Was told I’m a Scorpio. 'That check out?

HEIGHT:

With platforms or without?

ORIENTATION:

If we vibe, nothing else matters. An incubus with neat taste in personalities, I guess.

NATIONALITY / ETHNICITY:

So, some Scandinavian blood in me - half, actually. Can speak the language, too - 'least something neat daddy gave me, not that the fucker's outdone himself in parenting. Mom’s an American, born in Badlands. Ever heard of her clan? Messed with witchcraft a lot, and summoning even more. Know what I’m getting at? A perfect fuckin' match, weren't they?

FAVE FRUIT:

- Yeah no. Don't even start with anything citrus. Especially don't peel this shit in front of me, alright? Nasty shit. [Interviewer]: - Just wondering, how do you feel about cardboard boxes? [Ívarr] : - Ain't purring for you, man. But nice one.

FAVE SEASON:

Fuck summer. You ever felt what's that like - the real winter nights? Pitch fuckin' dark - quiet so thick you hear the snow falling. First time I saw those snowflakes as a kid - can swear I thought they were bees.

FAVE FLOWER:

Cherry blossoms? The fuck I know, man. Ask my mainline, I grab whatever he likes.

FAVE SCENT:

Expecting me to be like - "Muahaha, the smell of fear"? Seriously, it's apparently a pheromone released in your sweat or some shit. C'mon I'm joking, it isn't my fav - keeps stinking up this damn city. Alright, a freshly baked cake is something I'd kill for.

COFFEE, TEA, HOT CHOCOLATE:

Yeah coffee I guess? Rich, strong, black, with a splash of something fun, make it whiskey.

AVERAGE HOURS OF SLEEP:

Woke up just yesterday 'cause my mainline was pulling back my eyelid, imagine? Scared the fuck out of him, no seriously, can sleep through a fuckin' bomb and I'm not joking. Average hours - a shitton honestly? That's how I got my very first cat - Dad got enough of me breaking down every single morning, cause fuck mornings. And he'd be like - this is Snowy, she's gonna live with us and she already had her breakfast, so get the fuck up. How'd I argue with Snowy? You don't mess with Snowy.

DOG OR CAT PERSON:

See? Check it out - cat fur. Here too. I'm claimed, man - gave up cleaning it up a long time ago. Not to be dramatic, but if there's anything human in me left - it's for them. Fur kids, all mine, what can I say. Two of them adopted - and you bet each of them has a bigger personality than an average gonk.

DREAM TRIP:

Dream trip, jeez... Somewhere not fucking hot?

FAVE FICTIONAL CHARACTER:

Balrog has style, y'know? Gotta be honest, I feel for the dude. Imagine yourself sleeping deep within the mountains for thousands of years to get awoken by a bunch of motherfuckers? I'd go nuclear too. And this one too, ehh you know GoT? The Targaryen, her, yeah. Burn them all, girl. Boss move.

NUMBER OF BLANKETS YOU SLEEP WITH:

Man, your questions. I dunno, a half? With my ass covered, or not at all. Bed king sized, lights out, make it pitch black with the window open and you got me passed out.

RANDOM FACT:

One doesn't have to actually summon a demon to get them to come play, d'you know? There's one watching you through my eyes right fuckin' now. Should I introduce him?

Late to the party, but I remember many of y'all have more than one OC or just created new pixel babies that haven't participated yet, so I'm tagging (with no pressure):

@therealnightcity @wraithsoutlaws @sammysilverdyne @theviridianbunny @th3irin

@a-pirate @chessalein @halkuonn @luvwich @shimmer-like-agirl

@kdval @cybersteal @cyberholic77 @chevvy-yates @morganlefaye79

@anxious--ace @mhbcaps @wormskul @silver-samurai @androgymess

@winkyblinkyandstew @astarionhistears @valsilverhand @drunkchasind @themermaidriot

@pinkyjulien @skelior @medtech-mara @lokiina @timaeusterrored

@tokyofuturnoir @aggravateddurian @sifofasgard @elfjpeg @aurorartz

@lucky38-2077 @dustymagpie @gloryride @stannussy and anyone else who wants to! Also pls DM me if you don't wanna get tagged🖤

[ninii-winchester]

Unveiled Sorrows (Part 5)

Pairings : Dean Winchester X Reader, Sam Winchester X Reader (platonic), Dean Winchester x Lisa Braden (mentioned)

Word count: 4.6k

Warnings: heavy angst, spoilers s1-s6, mentions of violence, foul language, brief mentions of pregnancy and childbirth.(no details).

A/n : This series follows canon plot line but some scenes might happen differently or be completely changed. Check the warnings for each part before continuing

A/n: For the purpose of this series, Sam came back with his soul. Gemma and Will Campbell are OCs.

I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION TO COPY MY WORK, TRANSLATE IT OR POST IT TO ANY OTHER PLATFORM. REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED.

Bobby watched Dean drive away. He never imagined he'd do something like that. He turned to see y/n on the ground.

"No...no Sammy. Come back." She dug her fingers into the ground. "Please." She sobbed as she continued digging as if the cage would still be under the ground. She hoped by some miracle it would open up and give her best friend back.

"Y/n let go." Bobby tried prying her hands off the ground. "Let go God dammit your fingers are bleeding." He jerked her body upwards and dragged her off to his truck. He made her sit inside and grabbed her stuff from her car. He got into the driver's seat, and took off. After an hour of driving she calmed down.

"Hey! How come you're walking again? I mean not that it's bad but I'm curious." Y/n asked Bobby.

"I sold my soul to Crowley to find Death. He said he could give me anything so he gave me my legs back too."

"Crowley the demon? Gave you your legs back?"

"Strange world we live in." Bobby shrugged. Y/n give him a look. "What?"

"Are you stupid?"

"Excuse me?"

"You sold your soul to a demon? You're gonna have your ass dragged to hell you know that?"

"He said he's borrowing it."

"Wow Bobby, he said and you believed. Thats a demon. You can't trust demons." Bobby didn't say anything after that. Halfway through the drive Y/n called out Bobby's name. He glanced at her urging her to go on.

"I'm pregnant." She said making Bobby hit the brakes abruptly.

"Come again?"

"I'm pregnant."

"What?" He was shocked to the core at the revelation. She only stared ahead not looking him in the eye. "What the hell were you thinking confronting Lucifer? Are you mad? Did you have no regard for your life or that child's?" Bobby yelled as he started to drive again.

"I'm sorry I just couldn't sit back and watch." She whispered.

"Did you three plan this scheme 'kill Bobby of a heart attack'." He sighed and then he paused. "Who's the father?" He asked.

"Dean." She looked out of the window as the scenery passed.

"Figures. Did you tell him?" She shook her head 'no'. "Will you tell him?"

"Do you really think he wants anything to do with me after the way he left?" She snapped. Bobby stayed silent.

"I'm taking you to a hospital, we need to get you checked." Y/n nodded.

The two of them made their way back home after a long drive and a pit stop at the doctors. She was fine and the baby was healthy too. They gave her some prescription and told her to rest. Bobby had told her she'd be staying with him from now on and he won't take no for an answer. He cared for the three of them like their own. Now with Sam being dead and Dean being God knows where he'd like to keep her here safe. Ever more now that she's pregnant.

"I'm telling you, you should tell Dean. He deserves to know."

"Dean didn't give two shits before walking away from us Bobby, we've known him for years. Do you think he'd care for a bastard child like that?" Y/n retorted.

"Watch your language, young lady. That's my grandchild you're talking about." Bobby scolded her. Ofcourse he thinks of Y/n as the daughter her never had.

"Well news flash Bobby this ain't no love child." Bobby rolled his eyes at her comment.

"I'm sure he'd-"

"You know what actually? I'm sure he would want to know but I don't want to tell him. Walking out was his decision and not telling him about this is my decision." Y/n said walking away.

It had been two months since Sam died and Dean left. Y/n still mourned Sam's death and she missed him dearly. She wondered how he'd react to the news of her being pregnant. She's at five months now. She was in the main room cleaning and refilling her guns. Just because she's not allowed to hunt for the time being doesn't mean she won't be cautious.

She heard a knock on the door and she knew Bobby wasn't supposed to be back until later. She grabbed her gun and stuffed it in the back of her jeans. She grabbed her shotgun and went to the door. When she opened the door, her jaw hit floor. She couldn't believe her eyes. There stood Sam Winchester in the flesh.

"Y/n." He breathed out and she pointed the shot gun at his chest. "It's me, Sam."

"Not you're not. Sam's dead."

"I know I died Y/n but I'm back."

"That's not possible. Who brought you back? Was it Dean?" It pained her to say his name but now's not the time to think about that.

"I don't know what or who brought me back but I'm willing to go to every test." He raised his hands in surrender.

"Alright." And with that she shot him.

"Ow son of a bitch. That hurt Y/n." He complained.

"It was just rock salt, don't be a bitch."

"Jerk." Sam replied and for second her guard dropped. Still pointing the gun at him she grabbed a silver knife from her back pocket and threw it at him. He caught it and sliced his arm, he showed her as the blood trickled down his arm. She then grabbed the holy water and threw it at his face.

"A little warning would've been appreciated." Sam sassed  as he wiped the water from his eyes. "Can I hug you now?"

She kept staring at his face. She grabbed his arm and dragged him to main room and made him stand under the devils trap. Sam looked up and then moved away from the trap. Before either of them could say anything Y/n jumped up and wrapped her arms around him. He hugged her back and he felt something different about Y/n as he hugged her.

"How did this happen, Sammy?" She asked as they pulled away.

"Uh i don't know." He replied looking at her oddly. Y/n was thankful that she was wearing one of Sam's shirts, it was huge on her so her body was completely covered. Not that she had huge bump but still whatever she had, it was covered.

"How long have you been back?"

"Two months?"

"TWO MONTHS? SAM WINCHESTER YOUVE BEEN BACK FOR TWO MONTHS???" She exclaimed loudly. "Where have you been for the past two months?"

"Yeah I've been researching, I needed to know how I came back and uh I went to see Dean." He explained.

"You met Dean? Why's he not here?" She shouldn't care but she did.

"I didn't meet him. I just saw him." Sam replied.

"What do you mean? Why didn't you meet him? Where is he?"

"He is living with Lisa and Ben. He uh... he looked normal, he's living the apple pie life he always wanted and I couldn't go up there and take it all away from him." Sam told her with a sad smile. They both knew Dean would drop anything for his brother.

Y/n knew Lisa, she's met her once when they helped her get her son, Ben, back. Lisa was in Dean's life way before Y/n was. That was his only serious long term relationship she's ever known of. Lisa is a wonderful woman and it made sense why he left Y/n for someone like her.

"Was he...did he seem happy?" She had to ask.

"The happiest I've ever seen him. I didn't have it in me to go ahead and ruin everything. He looked so happy but I knew if I went in there he'd leave all of it to be back in hunting. I couldn't do that to him." Sam told her honestly.

"I agree."

"Where's Bobby?" Sam asked and the man in question entered the house and gasped at the sight in front of him. He grabbed the shot gun by the stairs and aimed at Sam. "Aw dammit not again."

"It's alright Bobby i checked. I did all the tests." Y/n intervened. The older man lowered his gun.

"Tell me something only Sam Winchester would know!" He demanded.

"A month before I fell, you lost your years to a witch in poker and then Dean lost to get your years back which made him old. But then I won back Dean's years and he turned back to normal." Sam narrated.

"What? When did that happen?" Y/n giggled as Bobby pulled Sam in a hug.

"When Bobby came to help us with the witch. You stayed back when we last hit the road." Sam replied.

"Oh I remember that, but you didn't tell me Dean got old." She laughed.

"Dean told me not to." Sam replied.

"Did you tell him?" Bobby asked Y/n and her eyes widened.

"Tell me what?" Sam asked warily.

"Uh look at that would ya? It's time for lunch. Why don't you wash up Bobby I'll set the table. You must be hungry too Sam." She said walking into the kitchen as Bobby went to freshen up. Sam followed her into the kitchen and she brush past him.

"Tell me what Y/n?"

"Would you like a beer, Sammy?" She pulled out a bottle and passed it to him. He banged his hand against the table gaining her attention.

"Tell me what?"

"I'm pregnant. It's Dean's." Y/n said calmly. The beer bottle slipped from his hands onto floor and shattering into a million pieces.

"What?" He asked completely in shock. Y/n pulled her shirt up a bit and it showed her bump. Sam stared at in utter disbelief. "I had no idea you and him? You and Dean you...?" He stuttered.

"It happened one night. It was a mistake." She lied. Ofcourse it wasn't one night and it wasn't a mistake either. But what can she even tell him.

"Does he know? Did you tell him?"

"No." She replied as she continued to set the food on the table.

"Why? Why wouldn't you tell him? he wanted a family for as long as i can remember."

"And he has a family. With Lisa. And Ben. I'm a hunter Sam, he can't have that white picket fence life with me which has with them. Don't you think he should live with the woman he loves and not with some good lay and a bastard child?" She snapped.

"How many times do I have to tell you not to say that word?" Bobby glared at Y/n as he entered the kitchen.

"What? That's your summoning? I say bastard child and you appear out of thin air?" Y/n replied sarcastically.

"You watch how you speak to me." Bobby's glare deepened.

"You can't kick me out. I'm carrying your grandchild." She stuck her tongue out the man she's come to love, as her father, over the years.

"I can when it's born."

"You wouldn't." She rolled her eyes.

"Are you two done? Because i would like to rewind to the part where you called yourself 'some good lay'." Sam sighed.

"What? You want me to say I was bad?" She joked.

"How are you not affected by all this? Stop acting like it doesn't bother you." Sam bellowed. He knew it must've been killing her inside.

"It doesn't bother me Sam."

"You have to tell Dean." He pressed on.

"I will not and if you did, I will shoot you. Not with a shot gun filled with rock salt but I'll put an actual bullet through you. And this is not an empty threat."

"I know things weren't good the last time we were here, he said things, he was stressed -"

"No Sam. It has nothing to do with what happened the last time."

"What is it then?"

"He left." Bobby said. "After you fell, he drove off leaving me and her behind. He didn't look back and we haven't heard from him since." He said solemnly looking at Y/n.

"I won't tell him. I promise." Sam said to y/n and She nodded. Sam felt a pang of guilt hit him. He remembered the talk he had with hin on their drive to Detroit. If only he hadn't made Dean promise to not find Y/n and go back to Lisa, things would've been different. Dean would've been here with his child and Y/n wouldn't have to go through this all alone. If only he had known. But how could've he known.

"Sam? You zoned out.!" Y/n called out.

"Yeah uhm I'm fine just too much to take in." Y/n nodded in agreement and Sam filled the two of them about the past two months. How his grandfather Samuel is also back from the dead. And he's been staying with him distant maternal cousins for the past two months.

Sam introduced Y/n to Samuel and his family. They've been getting along fine and Sam's back to hunting with the Campbells.

Three months later Y/n gave birth to Adeline Mary Winchester. No-one other than Bobby and Sam knew who the was the father of Adeline. Adeline was the cutest baby Sam had ever seen and much to Y/n's dismay, she looked exactly like her father. She had bright green eyes and dirty blonde hair. She had freckles all over her cheeks and nose just like Dean's. She reminded her too much of Dean.

"She looks exactly like Dean, no offence y/n." Sam said as he cradled his niece.

"None taken, Sammy. I know she looks like him." He placed her in her arms gently. "Hi there sweetheart." Y/n cooed at her daughter. "Isn't she adorable?"

"She's lovely." Sam commented. "I wish Dean was here." She wished too.

"But he's not."

"Because he doesn't know." Sam replied.

"I'd like to keep it that way. And we're not having this conversation again."

Y/n missed hunting. She'd been staying put and helping with research at Bobby's but she missed hunting. Neither of the men allowed her to go on hunts even if it was a basic salt and burn. Adeline had turned four months old three days ago. She was currently in Bobby's arms as she slept and Sam's on a hunt with Samuel.

The phone rang and Y/n answered it before it rang too much and woke up Addy.

"It's Gemma." She's one of Sam's distant cousins. Barely eighteen but a good hunter. "Me and Will are on a hunt and seems like we might need backup." Y/n relayed the information to Bobby hoping he'd let her go since there's no one else. The old man rolled his eyes and nodded. Y/n squealed with happiness and kissed his cheek.

"Thank you. Addy darling mommy's gonna be back before you know it." She kissed her daughter's cheek. "Don't bother the old man okay? I love you."

Y/n packed her stuff and drove her car to the town Gemma told her they would be in. It was dark when she left Sioux Falls and she arrived at the town at 4:20am. She met up with Gemma and Will. They decided they'd get those ambush the nest first thing in the morning. The three stayed in a motel room where Gemma took one bed and Y/n slept on the other. William was kind enough to give up on a bed and opt for the pullout couch instead. It had been a while since Y/n had been in a motel room.

It reminded her of Dean, how he would pull her in for a kiss every time Sam went out. Or how he would make her feel good when they shared a room. How he would make sweet passionate love to her and how the two of them created Adeline in a motel room. Then she felt bitter. He didn't make love to her, he had sex with her. If only he loved her like her told her, he would've never hurt her this bad. Or leave her alone by herself.

The morning came earlier than she expected and the three of them drove to the warehouse which was the supposed Vampire nest. There were nine vampires in total. Y/n hadn't felt this thrill in the past few months and she was thriving on it. Pumped up with adrenaline, she went in for the kill and ended up killing five on her own. All her frustration washing away with vampires' blood . Gemma and Will finished off the other four. The two rookies were impressed by her skills. The sun had set when they were with cleaning and disposing off the bodies. The three skipped town as soon as they cleaned up because a few of Gemma and Will's guns were at the motel, out in the open, the cleaning maid saw them and called the police.

They stopped two towns over to grab a few drinks. It was around nine pm. It had been a long time since y/n had alcohol. They went inside the bar and grabbed a table. Gemma and Will ordered beers but Y/n went for whiskey. She downed it one go and asked for another.

"Hey don't look at me like that, it's been a while i hunted or even drank." The two smirked and cheers to her. She decided to give Bobby a call and let him know that she'd be home in a few hours and asked if Addy was doing okay. To which he told that Sam's back and Addy has been with him since. She sighed in relief when she heard that.

"How's Addy?" Gemma asked.

"She's good. Sammy is back and she's with him right now." Y/n smiled thinking about her little girl. Her Dean jr.

The bar door opened and two men walked inside, one of the them was chattering too loudly which made Y/n look up and she wished she hadn't. She saw Dean walking in with a man she didn't recognise. She watched as Dean heard his friend's chatter with a smile on his face. He looked...normal. Just some guy you'd find at a bar on the weekend. He didn't look like Dean Winchester. The one she knew. She hoped he doesn't see her but has luck ever been on her side? He looked at her and their eyes met.

Dean stopped dead in his tracks as soon as his eyes landed on her. His heart felt like it would burst out of his chest. It's almost been an year since he last saw her but the mere sight of her was enough to make him fold. She looked just a beautiful as the day he left her. The day he broke her heart but ripped his own into pieces. She looked like he had gained some weight, but it suited her. And then his gaze dropped to her lips, those same lips that he used to kiss sore, the same lips let out those sinful noises when he made her feel good. Those lips, he'd give anything to feel against his own.

"Dean, are you okay?" Sid asked as he noticed Dean stop.

"Yeah man, I'm good." He said still looking at her. He knows he shouldn't, but he couldn't help himself before he spoke, "i think I saw someone from my high school, let's go say hi." He said walking towards her table.

"Sure." Sid followed behind him.

Y/n's heart rate picked up as he got closer, why is he walking towards us. Is going to act like he knows me? The sheer audacity of this man. Hasn't he broken me enough why..

"Hey.! Gracie Henderson, right?" Dean spoke as he reached their table. Gemma and Will turned to look up at him.

Damn you Dean. Fuck you. He had to strike a nerve there. That was their alias when they had to go undercover as a couple. It was always Y/n and Dean since Sam couldn't like a couple with Y/n. He just had to make everything awkward, so it was always Dean and Y/n. Gracie Henderson and her husband Troy Henderson.

Ofcourse he couldn't miss the chance to hurt me again. Y/n thought to herself.

"Huh?" Y/n feigned ignorance.

"You're Gracie right? We went to high school together." Dean said looking right at her.

"Sorry? I think you have the wrong person." Y/n spoke the alcohol in her system giving her the courage to speak to him. "I never went to high school and its Adeline."

"Alright my bad." Dean said, his friend mumbling a sorry before they went to sit at the table beside theirs. His friend went to order for them and he sat there eavesdropping the conversation happening at the table beside him.

"He definitely knows you. That was one of your aliases." Gemma said as soon as Dean left. Y/n shrugged in response ordering another drink. "Cmon y/n tell us why did you act like you didn't know him?"

"Because he's Dean Winchester." She practically sneered his name. Dean flinched at the way she said name.

"What really ? He's Dean?" Will spoke for the first time in awhile. Y/n nodded.

"Why didn't you tell him to join us?" Gemma asked and Will added a "yeah why not?"

"Are you two dumb? What part of his appearance says he's a hunter? He's not in the business anymore. And the guy that came with him? He screams 9 to 5. So what did you two expect me to invite him to our table and reminisce the time we went to a fucking high school to burn the body of his brother's friend and his friend's bully?" Y/n spoke agitatedly and the two nodded in understanding. She downed her drink.

"I can't believe i came here out for this. You two needed backup for nine vampires? You know Bobby doesn't let me go on hunts. I came out to hunt after almost a year and its some stupid fucking vampires." She sighed dramatically.

Dean perked up when he heard her say she hadn't hunted in almost an year. Is she out of the business too? What does she mean Bobby doesn't let her hunt.

"You haven't hunted in almost a year and still you took down five vampires on your own." Will sat there in total awe. "You're my new role model."

Sid had already came back but Dean's attention was still on y/n. He smiled when he heard she took down five vampires on her own, that's my girl. He thought to himself.

"You two kiddos did good too. I'm sorry I snapped, I'm a bit stressed." Y/n said.

"It's alright." Gemma smiled.

"I'll head out." Y/n said grabbing her jacket and threw a few bills to for her bills.

"You're driving back to Sioux Falls?" Will asked and she nodded. "Aren't you drunk?"

"I've only had three drinks."

"Yeah of whiskey." Gemma added.

"Trust me kiddo. It takes a lot more than that to get me drunk." She replied and Dean noticed a lingering sadness in her voice.

The love of his life has been through hell and back and she's still kicking it. He wishes he could just grab her and disappear from the surface of the earth. To keep her from harms way and keep her protected from all the sadness and hurt. He wish he could love her the way she deserves to be loved. He watched as she left the bar before yelling a "get home safe kiddos."

The first thing y/n did as she reached home was to see Adeline. It was around five in the morning when she reached home. She saw Sam in the kitchen eating cereal and looking at his computer while he held Adeline on his lap.

"Good morning." She said as she entered the kitchen.

"Look Addy, mommy's back." Sam said holding her up. The baby giggled as she saw her mother approaching her.

"There's my baby." She picked up Adeline in her arms. "Did you miss mommy?" She asked in baby voice and the little girl flailed her arms, excitedly tapping her mother's cheeks.

"How was your 'first' hunt?" Sam joked earning an eye roll.

"It was good, vamps nest." She said sitting beside him, pulling her hair away from Adeline who was gripping it too tightly.

"Are you okay?" Sam asked noticing the stress lines on his best friend's face.

"I'm fine, why'd you ask?"

"You have that look on your face." Sam replied gesturing to her face.

"What look?"

"That look when something is bothering you but you're too prideful to say."

"I don't have such look on my face." Y/n said bouncing Addy on her lap.

"Y/n." Sam stared at her. He knows it's only a matter of seconds before she's spilling the truth.

"I met Dean okay? No big deal." She sighed.

"What? You met Dean? How?" Y/n filled in him with everything that happened after the hunt.

"He looked like a common man, it was weird seeing him. And the audacity to walk up to me and say hi? He was lucky he was with someone or I would've bashed his face in the table." Y/n growled her hold tightening on Adeline.

"Maybe he missed you and he thought after seeing you again he could talk to you." Sam said hoping he could get her hate him a little less.

"Well he thought wrong." She said angrily making her way out of the kitchen.

"Do you want me to watch Addy while you rest?" Sam called out from behind her.

"I am very much capable of taking care of my daughter on my own." She snapped, she didn't mean she didn't need Sam's help, she always appreciated his existence. But at the moment her words had a different meaning. She wanted Sam to know that just because she met Dean doesn't mean she will let him be in Adeline's life.

Sam sighed as he watched her walk away. He most definitely understood the meaning behind her words. Y/n went to her room and laid Adeline on the bed. She kneeled beside the bed and looked at her daughter. Adeline wiggled amd giggled staring at her mother. Y/n couldn't help but let a few tears run down her cheek. She never wanted this to be her daughter's life, she didn't need her innocent baby to grow up around monsters, without her father being there to protect her.

"How I wish I could hate your father, Addy. I resent him for what he did to us but I still love him. How could I not when he has given me you." She whispered, her daughter stared up the her with her bright green eyes that reminded her so much of her lost love. She placed soft kisses on her chubby cheeks before putting her in her crib. Y/n sighed as she got into bed. Little did she know this was the last time she had a good night's sleep in a long time.

Tags:

@spnfamily-j2 @queensilber @deangirl96 @galway-girlatwork @hobby27

[cozy-cinnamon-roll]

We Interrupt This Broadcast...

(Another two-part-er! Stay tuned for part 2 very shortly!)

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

Pairing: Ler!Rosie, Ler!OC, Lee!Alastor (strictly platonic)

Content/Trigger Warnings: tickling, very brief blood mention, medical themes (non-graphic & painless). One comically graphic description of cannibalism (first paragraph). Also, this is set right after Alastor gets his ass handed to him by Adam, so you can expect a lil angst sprinkled in there (don't worry, he gets better).

If there are any trigger warnings you'd like me to add in the future (and/or to this fic), PLEASE let me know! I am always happy to oblige. 💕

This is a ticklefic! If that's not your cup of tea, kindly move along.

Ok... I'm gonna be honest folks, I have no idea if this fic is even coherent. This ain't my Best Work™ - this is literally the coping mechanism I've been relying on to put myself to sleep every night this week because HOLY SHIT my life is stressful at the moment. 😅

But anyway, I've decided I'm just gonna go ahead and post it, because 1) the world needs more lee!alastor, and 2) I'm not here to do my Best Work™, I'm here to write cute self-indulgent little stories about Alastor getting tickled to bits by his platonic wife. I'm here to decompress my hypervigilant ass at the end of long days by imagining my favorite endearingly creepy characters get wrecked by my other favorite endearingly creepy characters.

In summary, I'm here to have a good time, and I certainly did with this fic. So I hope you do too!

Featuring my new oc! (Rosie and Al still take center stage though, don't worry lol)

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It's a little-known fact that cannibals make terrific doctors. When you spend every meal tearing the human body apart with your face, you end up with a pretty comprehensive intuition for demonic anatomy.

So Alastor supposed he should consider himself lucky to have Rosie and her loyal posse so close at hand after his battle with Adam.

He was certainly relieved when Rosie had stumbled upon him, barely conscious from blood loss on the floor of his wrecked radio tower - and especially a few hours later when, having been rushed back to Cannibal Town, he was whisked into a warm, familiar parlor and deposited on a comfy couch.

Within minutes Rosie had summoned a woman in a white coat who swooped in, produced a bottle of a strange, foul-smelling gel from her medicine bag, soaked a rag with it, and pressed it firmly against Alastor's wound. The searing pain evaporated almost on contact.

"What is that?" Alastor breathes, visibly relaxing against the arm of the couch he's propped against.

"Anesthetic." She begins preparing a needle and thread.

"Didn't know such a thing existed down here."

"Of course! We're demons, not barbarians," Rosie scoffs, watching from the sidelines.

Cannibals, as a rule, rarely last long enough to need a doctor, but Rosie is no ordinary cannibal. And Dr. Trudy Sawblade - a young surgical resident in life, and Rosie's personal physician in death - is the best of the best. While she hadn't quite completed her medical training before her untimely death, in Rosie's service she's gained more than enough experience to make up for her education cut short.

"That salve is derived from a distant cousin of the poison dart frog. Evidently most of the frogs are assholes, because hell has an downright enormous population of them." Trudy's voice is measured and matter-of-fact, with a soft lilt that is both soothing and vaguely unsettling. "Haven't been discovered on earth yet. Which is good, because one whiff of this would end a mortal life in a matter of seconds."

"Lucky you, you're already dead," Rosie chimes in cheerfully.

"Lucky me," Alastor murmurs, without conviction.

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Truthfully, with the pain from his chest wound numbed, the weight of his recent defeat presses even more heavily on Alastor's heart. Someone - probably one of the cannibals who helped transport him from the rubble pile to Rosie's parlor - must have grabbed the broken microphone as they carried him out, because the fractured pieces are sitting on the side table at the other end of the couch. Under normal circumstances the awareness that someone had touched his staff without permission would spark a flash of rage from the Radio Demon, but now he can only stare dismally at what remains of his cane - aware that it's no longer capable of accomplishing much anyway.

It takes only a few minutes for Trudy to stitch Alastor back up and wrap his chest in a stretchy gauze. Meanwhile, Rosie quickly mends the worst of the tears in his clothes - if only to avoid having to watch her friend stare down the couch at his broken staff, with an uncharacteristic half-smile that damn near breaks her heart.

"Alright, sir, that should do it for now. It's a nasty gash, for sure, but the salve should keep it from getting infected."

"Thank you, my dear." He gives an appreciative nod to the surgeon, and Rosie too, as his fellow overlord hands him back his clothes.

"Can't have you going around with a big hole in your chest, can we?" Rosie steps back and scrutinizes her own patch job as he slowly dresses himself again. "It ain't perfect... especially for a classy fellow like you. But I'm sorry to report that I saw my tailor at a Sunday brunch just last week. Inconvenient, but I gotta admit, he made a wonderful casserole."

For the briefest of moments, this aside manages to tweak Alastor's smile into something vaguely genuine. "I'm sure he did."

"One more thing, Mr. Alastor, sir," Trudy jumps in as the radio demon pulls on his coat. "So sorry, I almost forgot. The angel also threw you against a wall, correct?"

At the recollection, Alastor's smile stiffens into something more closely resembling a grimace. His antlers rise between his ears. "Does it matter?"

"You may be at risk for internal injuries." If Trudy is at all fazed by inviting the most powerful overlord in hell's annoyance, it doesn't show. "I really ought to check, just to be safe."

Alastor looks away. As loathe as he is to even acknowledge his own fragility, he truly isn't sure of the extent of his own injuries - given that he's not used to receiving them in the first place. And he'd be damned (well, damned twice) if Adam had ruptured something vital, spelling the radio demon's second death a few hours after the fact.

He grits his teeth. "I suppose it wouldn't hurt."

"Lovely. If you could just lie back, sir..." As he obliges, she kneels beside the couch. "I'm just going to feel for any swelling..." Her hands hover over him-

"Er, wait." Alastor abruptly sits up.

"It's alright, I won't touch your wound!" Trudy soothes. "I'll just be feeling down here..." She gestures to his midsection (which elicits a sharp flinch).

"No, I-" He hesitates. "I'm... not sure this is necessary."

"Oh, Alastor, stop worryin'!" Rosie reassures him with a friendly pat on the shoulder. "Trudy is quite picky about her meals. She'd never go for venison."

"That's... not what..."

Alastor pauses, and evidently decides against trying to explain what he meant. He reluctantly lies back against the cushions again.

"I'm going to place my hands under your shirt, sir. If you feel any pain, please alert me."

"Very well."

As Trudy lifts his shirt, he looks like he is going to say something more - but whatever it is dies on his tongue the moment her hands make contact with his stomach. He brings one knee up sharply.

"Tender there, sir?"

"No! No, your hands are cold." His words have gone uncharacteristically stiff.

Trudy methodically probes one side of his belly, then the other (which in turn causes his other knee to pop up). This time when Trudy asks if he's in pain, he merely shakes his head.

The surgeon furrows her brow, concentrating. Human-animal hybrids like Alastor already take a bit of poking around just to get a sense for each unique configuration of organs. It doesn't help that the man is bracing for every touch...

"Are you sure this doesn't hurt, sir?" she murmurs tentatively. "You're very tense."

"Yes." The word comes out like a hiss. She glances at the radio demon's face. He's wearing his typical showman's smile, but his eyes are fixed on the ceiling with a weird, wide, unwavering stare.

Finally the surgeon sits back. "Well, I don't feel anything concerning. But to be honest, sir, I can't feel much of anything." She turns apologetically to her employer. "His stomach is all clenched up..."

But Rosie is simply standing there pressing a huge grin into her glove. She's known Alastor for decades. She can read his expressions like a magazine.

"Alastor, darling," Rosie drawls casually. "Are you ticklish?"

From the radio demon's reaction, you'd think she'd asked if he was an Exorcist. He scrambles to sit up. "No! Why would-"

"You're ticklish. That's..." She catches herself just before the word precious.

"...What?!" There's an edge of defensiveness to his voice that Rosie very rarely hears from him.

"Why are you embarrassed?"

"I'm not emb- That's not- what-" Oh, she's giving him that look. "I'm just- I wasn't-"

As he speaks, Alastor's voice suddenly goes thin. His gaze turns inward. "I'm stuttering. I don't stutter! I've never stuttered!" He clutches his coat closer around himself. "I am the RADIO DEMON, for heaven's sake, I don't sta-AHH! Haha-!"

Evidently a scribble to the ribs is a very effective way to interrupt a panicking demon. Rosie runs her fingers from his hip up his side to his arm and back a couple times for good measure.

The amount of startled laughter she is able to draw from just this surprise touch delights her - the poor man is so ridiculously sensitive that a five-second one-handed tickle leaves him fully breathless.

"Okay! Okay, okahay! Keheh- Rosie!"

"Sorry dear, couldn't resist." She holds her hands up, still beaming like a stadium light. "I'll stop torturing you."

Alastor clears his throat. "You're not torturing me, dearest." He straightens his bowtie, clearly attempting to salvage his dignity. "You know what I always say, laughter is a powerful sign of-"

He cuts off with a sharp inhale and defensive flinch as Rosie perches on the edge of the sofa beside Trudy. She grins.

"You're right. That's certainly your specialty, isn't it?"

Alastor forces a nervous chuckle. "Never fully dressed without a smile, you know."

"Well don't worry, darling. I understand." She pats his knee. "Just because you've got the scariest evil cackle in hell doesn't mean you appreciate having it tickled out of you."

Rosie had expected this assurance to put him at ease, but if anything, he seems more troubled.

"Why would I mind a little, ah..." Tickling. Tick-ling. He can't bring himself to articulate two syllables. Is this all he's left with without his staff? "...Er, a little bit of levity? Can't let things get too serious, can we?" With another quick cough, the radio demon finally manages to get his voice to fall back into his familiar breezy cadence. He turns to Trudy. "Now, are we... quite finished with that examination?"

"Nothing seems amiss, from what I can feel." Trudy takes a step back. "Which is not much, but I think I've already made you uncomfortable enough..."

"Nonsense! I'm perfectly at ease!" He lies back again and smooths his coat. "Please, finish your little checkup. I insist."

Trudy regards him curiously for a moment. "Right." Her hands hover over his belly again. "But if you want me to stop, sir, just say the word-"

"I assure you that w-won't be necessahary..."

Trudy watches him seize up before her fingers even make contact. This time she presses a little deeper into his belly, trying to feel around his defensiveness.

"You are punching holes in my couch," Rosie remarks dryly, watching the poor demon's claws bury themselves in the cushions.

"I kn... ohow, I'm just-" He squeezes his eyes shut as Trudy hits a particularly bad spot. And then another. And another... hell, his torso one big bad spot.

"What do you think, Trudy?"

The young doctor just shakes her head.

"Alastor. Darling. You have GOT to relax."

"I am!" Alastor's composure is dangling by the thinnest of threads.

"Maybe it would help," Trudy says, with infinite caution, "to just go ahead and laugh, sir."

A beat. And then Rosie bursts into laughter.

"Giving new meaning to the 'deer in the headlights' expression, my friend." She scoots closer. "I thought you just said you don't mind a little 'levity'..."

"I don't!"

"In that case. Carry on, Trudy - Auntie Rosie is gonna help our patient out a bit while you work."

Too late, Alastor realizes what his fellow overlord has in mind. "Wait, wait! Ros-"

A delicate set of nails find the region just under his ribs - and it's all downhill from there.

"Ah! Fuhuck!" Alastor chokes on a curse before he can catch himself. He twists sideways, collapses into muffled giggles, and briefly manages to pull himself together - just barely - with a few hyperventilated breaths. "Rosie, really! This isn't- please- ack! I can't-" There's that damn stutter again. He hadn't even stuttered when Adam slashed him.

And now, Great Alastor the Radio Demon, undone by some scribbles? And a medical exam?!

Meanwhile, Trudy can feel even less now than she could before, her patient's belly now quaking with silent, suppressed mirth. But she takes one look at Rosie's delighted expression... and continues probing anyway, curling a subtle little smirk of her own.

It seems Rosie has picked up on a slightly less tangible injury than anything Trudy can address. But fortunately, they've just stumbled upon a promising potential treatment.

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

Part 2 is already pretty much finished - my brain is just too mushy at this point to contend with Tumblr's shitty text interface any longer, and this feels like a good stopping point.

Lemme get a good night sleep and another dose of Prozac and I'll have the rest out shortly 😅

💜 - Cozy

[sparklingmineraltequila]

American Wasteland

Note: Super fucking late. I know I said that this was gonna be just them drinking and screwing but it descended into some super emotionally intense shit so please don't read if you're a minor or if you hate that shit

Warning: 18+ This is dark. Some EXTREMELY heavy description of physical abuse towards women, extremely unhealthy reaction of OC in regards to this abuse, Smut, drinking, smoking, swearing

No-one rides a motorbike who doesn't slightly want to die. It's not just the past few years of dealing with the scum scraped fresh off of Cell Block 1's floor that has led Rust to believe that. He doesn't need to see the Iron Crusaders' (and his own) track marks to know that every fucker here has a death wish; it's that low, churning engine rumble that tells him. Excitement often boils down to terror and you can't not care when your Harley's doing 100 down along the coast; a hurricane cooking up in the grey-blue of the Gulf. You'll die just swerving slightly. It's exciting. Rust sees that same excitement, the one of licking syrup off of the jagged edge, in Cassandra's eyes. Hell, it's why she fucks with him, both figuratively and literally. As she taps her fingernails on the sticky bar top, Rust can see that restlessness froth up, in her eyes; the way that they glaze over while she studies him. Cassandra's gonna make him fucking pay for it.

'You owe me, at least, a double,' she says, resting her forearms on the bar as she makes a show of arching her back and rolling the cracks out of her shoulder. Rust looks at her, unimpressed by her languid stretching,

'Those shorts show enough, as it is. Ain't no reason to be doing all that shit.'

'Jealous?'

Rust reaches for the Camels in the inside pocket of his leather jacket,

'Of these motherfuckers? Ain't no-one here that could handle that goddamn attitude. And for the smell outside, ain't no-one here handlin' their liquor, either.'

That earns a huff of a laugh for Cassandra,

'Let the poor bastards have some fun. Most of 'em are probably just trying to take a load off and relax.'

Rust sighs out a flood of grey and eyes her from the side; a cool, appraising look which Cassandra doesn't miss.

'What?' she asks, her head jutting forward slightly and eyes already narrowed, as if already anticipating the bite of his words.

'These are the same men that fuckin' feel you up, back at the club. These beers and shit is just what loosens 'em up.'

'That's just all men,' Cassandra says dryly, not even attempting to muster any indignation at the fact. A girl already resigned to nicotine stained callouses palming her tits and ass. How much do you value your body over rent? Where do you draw the line between the meat that courses with capillaries and nerves and life, and the meat that jiggles when a biker spanks it? Is it worth defining it? Rust knows that, for Cassandra, it sure as hell isn't. Shit, it isn't for either of them, or anyone at that. Sentient meat with electrical impulses tricking us into thinking that it actually matters if we put a gun in our mouth or not, next Tuesday. Rust gives another grainy, derisive scoff,

'Fair enough.'

'Plus, they pay rent. As long as they have the money, they can do whatever they want,' Cassandra shrugs while scraping at some gunk, on the bar, with her thumbnail. Neither of them look at each other.

'I thought we agreed that you weren't gonna bullshit me anymore, Cass.'

'I ain't bullshitting you.'

Rust's gaze moves from the beer taps to an ashtray,

'You goddamn hate it, Cass. I hate it for you.'

'I never said I didn't. But I ain't about to turn down a lap dance cause I've got morals. Shit, Crash, you think I'm that much of a kid?'

Rust can see the way she finishes with a smile and licks the inside of his cheek to prevent his own faint smirk; as if it's some depressingly fucked up inside joke that the two share.

'I am pretty good at pretending that it turns me on, though. Ain't I?' Cassandra says, leaning her side against the bar top with glint in her eye that Rust thinks looks far too much like baiting.

'Keep talkin' like that and you're only gettin' a single.'

'Yeah, that sounds like a fucking admission to me.'

Rust knows why she does this shit; he's seen it enough in the smoky, post-sex haze of their trailer-floor bedroom. Their bodies sticky to the touch, Rust festering in a pit of self-loathing, that he now doesn't even attempt to claw out of, and Cassandra, toeing the line between humour and cruelty, in a desperate attempt to cover up how fucking exposed she is to him. It acts as a way to convince herself that she wouldn't let him hurt her. They both know she's lying. Beneath a nicotine-yellow ceiling and the monotony of the squeaking fan, it's easy to pretend that they are what they present to each other; neither one of them has it in themselves to strip the other bare.

Cassandra is silent for a moment, too long a moment, so Rust bites,

'What?'

'So, I can't call you Ru-'

'No.'

'Not even when we're fucking?'

'Especially not when we're fucking.'

'It ain't like I'm gonna slip up.'

Rust nods to the bartender, uneasy with the raw territory that the conversation is quickly accelerating towards,

'Two fingers of Jameson,' he says, before turning expectantly towards Cassandra.

'A Budweiser and a double of tequila; lime and all that shit.'

The bartender gives Cassandra a slight arch of his brow, clearly unimpressed in having to get out the shot glasses in a place where the liquor bottle usually just stays on the bar top; anyone its owner until they pass out or their wallet runs dry. He acquiesces, though, satiated by having a girl like Cassandra in his bar. Cassandra sees it in his eyes, too: the moment where aggravation turns to lust. She's seen it often, as well as its inversion. The two things men know best, she'd told Rust once, after some fucker bit her shoulder during a lap dance, unable to stop jutting his hard-on into her as he'd called her a 'fucking teasing little bitch', Sex and Rage. So well, they often mix 'em up. Cassandra knows better than anyone else how to tree that line; girls in her line of work usually do. Turn that anger into libido by grinding on them well enough, or try to get hit in a place where you can't see the bruise too much. Don't want the customers to acknowledge that their domination of this body is as fucking pathetic as the last guy who payed to fuck her up. Bruises that belong to different men just don't carry the same degradation. You're a fucking punchbag, nothing worth actually beating into submission. Rust knows that's part of the reason that Cassandra has never bothered to cover up the one's he'd leave after they fucked: someone had finally deemed her worthy to stick around after the time ran up to teach her a lesson.

Rust turns to the bartender, deciding whether, with the coke that he took before chasing after Cassandra still pulsating through his capillaries, he should ignore the slobbering slack-jaw looks he was giving her. He's so goddamn exhausted, after all. Hell, he's already violated more CID regulations than he can count by even starting this shit with her but, then again, he's been in this fucking purgatory of bikers, meth and lukewarm liquor for 3 more years than he should so who's doing semantics?

'That Motel 6 across the lot still runnin',?

The bartender nods,

'As long as there're hookers and junkies on God's green earth.'

Rust lights another cigarette before saying,

'Finish your beer, baby. Then we head.'

The bartender miscalculates, misinterpreting Rust's biker leather as some sort of male cammeradery, and juts forward to ask,

'Hey man, after you're done, you mind tellin' me which room you leave her in?' his hunger glazing his eyes like it would an animal's.

Rust doesn't even have time to break his nose before Cassandra semi-lunges herself across the bar, only restrained by Rust's forearm as he tells her,

'Easy. Easy.'

Time and breath wasted, though, with the way Cassandra writhes against his grip, arm pointing into the bartender's face as she sneers,

'I'd give you two seconds, motherfucker, before your dick gets soft and you start crying to your momma cause it won't go up again, you dumb fucking piece of shit. Ain't even fucking man enough to spot an actual hooker.'

The bartender's face twists, as the insults spew out, and his own vitriol starts to froth up,

'Oh, so you ain't even smart enough to get paid for it? This son of a bitch just fucks you for free, huh? Shi-it, your daddy must've fucked you up bad.'

Rust hauls Cassandra out of the bar, as the pair of them continue to shout whiskey-spit slathered insults at each other, the violence of the curses slithering up from wherever they had hidden it with pills, liquor or sex, for the time being. The moment the bloody meat of catharsis presents itself, they turn into rabid dogs; heat, insect bites and all.

After body slamming the bar door to open it, Rust has to restrain himself from shoving Cassandra off of his chest as she unevenly places her feet on the asphalt, the heel of her cowboy boot twisting and making her stumble to her knees. Rust, still too furious with her goddamn attitude and the bartender's comments, doesn't even turn around as he strides towards the Motel 6,

'Get the fuck up and walk, Cassandra.'

Cassandra pushing herself up, the gravel still embedded in the soft flesh of her palms,

'Oh, so now you're fucking mad at me?!'

'What did I goddamn tell you?'

'To not call you Rust.'

'Shut the fuck up with that, right now.'

'Then, what?'

Rust doesn't look at her. Hell, he even quickens his stride,

'That you're gonna get yourself fuckin' killed with that goddamn mouth. You know the shit an angry man is capable of better than anyone else and you're far too fuckin' smart to be having pissin' contests with a bunch of liquored up assholes.'

It's harsh. Shit, it's a punch to the gut, Rust knows, but he's gotten to the point where he cares about Cassandra way too fucking much to let her be this goddamn stupid when he's around. She knows that, ashamed of her own naivety in thinking that she could ever protect herself from a man who wanted to hurt her. Rust glances at her,

'I get that you're angry, Cass. Don't let it make you a dumbass.'

'Anger is the only goddamn thing that has ever kept me safe. Angry women are the only people who have ever kept me safe.'

Rust clenches his jaw but knows that she's right and finds a lingering sense of relief that she didn't include him, on that list.

Even more so when she has him on his back on their motel room mattress. Rust knows it's goddamn selfish and twisted to be grateful for Cassandra's hard-earned cynicism, won from the sharp edge of male entitlement, but it keeps her fucking safe from him. Ironically, when they fuck is the only time that she doesn't look at him with a tinge of that silent, gnawing desperation. No, not with the way that she's moving on top of him, now; tits pushed up in that white lace bra, strands of hair getting stuck on the slick bottom lip of her open mouth. After Cassandra had desperately scrambled to get out from underneath him, shoving his shoulders down as she'd promised,

'Please-I'm sorry-It'll feel good. Just let me.'

An inversion for both of them, as they slowly find their rhythm; the bed's awkward creaking a deep contrast with the pure fucking heat in their held stare. Rust doesn't know what to do with his shit but lie back and try not to come just from the way she looks at him. Ever since being undercover, sex has been another convoy of power and domination; violence with just the same amount of blood and spit. Sex has never been an essentially good thing for Rust, not until he met Claire. For a couple years it was, now it's just become an amalgamation of proving how much of a sick asshole he is to the rest of the Crusaders and a reminder of the lurid hubris that led to his daughter's death. To be forced back onto this mildew infested mattress, and have a girl as beautiful as Cassandra take care of him, makes Rust want to either vomit or cry. But he lets her, he knows she needs this shit. Let her feel in control for 5 goddamn minutes of her life, Rust thinks, as Cassandra deeply rolls her hips down as he lifts up. An in adverted moan escapes from both; skin starting to gloss over with exertion. They both attempt to inculcate some of that violence they both need so badly: Cassandra scrapes her nails down his chest and forearm, while Rust reaches that very forearm up to grab her throat, his other hand forming yet another bruise on her hip.

'Fuck, fuck, fuck,' Cassandra whimpers out, as she stares down at Rust who reaches the hand that's on her thigh to grab his Camels; desperate for a goddamn anchor. As he lights one, he holds her there by the throat. Cassandra stares down at him, her body trembling with pleasure but her gaze steady.

They don't kiss.

[darknoverse]

Blog Introduction✨

Finally making an introduction lol

Hellooooo I'm Nada , tho you can call me Chaotic goose or Darkno :3

✨selfshipper! Also have sm oc x canon stuff !

✨20 years old

✨she/her

✨I do digital art, traditional art, animatics, animations (rarely) , 3d modeling ,pixel art

✨neurodivergent

✨I'm in many fandoms but mainly buzz Lightyear of star command, Mario &Luigi RPGs, samurai jack , wonder over yonder ect ect

✨my carrd! Containing main F/Os (romantic ones that i'll post about more often!) and DNIs

✨few socials:

💜My Toyhouse

💜my artfight

💜strawpage(you can send me asks or drawings there :3)

✨also I'm like your resident bat kisser/villain lover and I'm gonna be annoying with that/pos .

✨ SPECIFICALLY a HUGE Antasma fan btw! I draw him/talk about him all the time so ... Y'all gotta adapt lol 😭🙏 if you're interested in seeing my headcanons and art about him, you can to the right place!

❌BOUNDARIES!!!and such❌

❌ i am NOT comfortable with sharing antasma as a f/o tbh, I am not comfortable with all the canon x canon ships (unless it's one joke ship yk, I can tolerate most oc x canon ones tho. To a limit😭) with him so PLEASE don't talk to me about those . if u like em, good for you, i simply don't .

❌respect the DNI list .

❌please be respectful with the few f/os I ain't comfortable sharing

❌be polite and respectful in general

❌ do NOT use petnames/flirt with me . Even if in a platonic way. That shit is uncomfortable and I'll yeet you to pluto if u do.

💬Arttrades: open

💬requests: closed forever 😭😂(unless we're friends)

✨few of the main posts and essays(so far)

Antasma analysis (long aah essay )

Antasma's design analysis tag : #darknoveranalysis

But aside from that DMs are always open if you guys wanna be pals !^^

That is all I think! Enjoy your stay and be respectful💜

[soulc-hilde]

Game Shakers / Ch. 1

from the river to the sea, palestine will be free 🇵🇸 READ: this account stands with palestine, and so— i require everyone who interacts to educate themselves, and support/donate. READ THESE; 1 and 2, HELP HERE, BOYCOTT. silence is complicity, do not scroll past this.

Pairing: Eminem x Black!Fem!OC [King]

Warning(s): Cursing, drug abuse, racial discrimination, sexual assault

Summary: 2000s seemed to be quite the highlight between the fashion and the rise of pop culture. Seemingly the new faces of shock value, rapper Marshall Mathers and rockstar King Woods seem to find a common ground amongst the unnecessary bullshit.

2019 - Interview

"I understand that you're not the type to talk about your personal life, especially your relationship. If you could, how would you describe meeting your wife and her band?"

Marshall bites his lip in thought for a moment. He nods, agreeing with the idea, "meeting her? It was funny as hell. What I thought about her and the girls? They're hardcore, even to this day."

1999 - Vans Warped Tour

Fame was a peculiar bitch and for some odd reason, she continued to bless King and the girls. One of the greatest gifts they received was the privilege to be a part of the infamous pop-punk music festival, Vans Warped Tour. 

Following a lineup of bands who were as new as them while others were considered veterans in the industry. Not to forget, there were even a couple of non-alternative artists joining the fun. 

Playing the main stage, their hit song 'Down with the Sickness' received great reception as the crowd beautifully replicated King's belches. If there was one thing that made the girls wanna break face on stage was the obvious diversity in the crowd that screamed for them.

The amount of women, especially ones who resembled King and Tink. It was clear that the band's presence in the genre was creating a positive change that only a handful of minority artists tried to achieve. Reaching the end of their stage, they played 'You Spin Me Round'.

As usual the girls explored outside of their marked spots, interacting with the fans. King would let the crowd scream the lyrics into the mic with a smile, Harley erratically swung her head until she was dizzy, Maliyah was strumming from the top of the stereos while security watched with intensity, Iris was spraying the crowd and crew with water, and Tink was crowd surfing with the confetti filled balls. 

Unbeknownst to them, a nearly petrified Marshall watched from the side of the stage where he was guided to wait for his moment to walk on stage. Beside him stood Deshaun, who couldn't hold back his laugh. 

"Well shit, Doody," the taller man smiles. "How the hell are we gonna beat that? I ain't never seen some shit like that before."

Marshall shakes his head, "I feel sick." He tries to run off only to be stopped by his best friend. Deshaun shakes his head, "no, the fuck you're not. Come on, man, we've been waiting for this. You ain't that kid who'd choke up anymore, you're the shit, Doody."

Their eyes catch sight of the sweat drenched woman come off stage, however, King was sporting an open wound on her eyebrow as dots of blood decorate her eye. Despite the obvious mix of worry and confusion on her members' faces, the leader walked with a grin.

As they went to walk past Marshall and Deshaun, the blond couldn't help his curiosity. "Aye," he calls out, "are you okay?" 

The girls turn to look at him, just now realizing he was there. King nods, "yeah. If anything, this just a regular day for us." 

"You bleed on a regular?" Marshall raises an eyebrow. King laughs, "not so much that. I'm really clumsy and the hardcore scene doesn't make it any better."

Deshaun joins in, "we just saw. That was one hell of a show y'all put on, never seen some shit like that." Maliyah cheeses, "just you wait, getting caught up with the crowd is a lot easier than it seems."

Iris leans over King's shoulder, "are y'all new here? I don't think I've seen your faces before." Her Canadian accent was clear and thicker than a Snickers.

"Yeah, I'm Eminem, but you can call me Marshall and this is my hype man, Proof. We're rappers," the bleach blond introduces, gnawing on a piece of gum.

Tink raises an eyebrow, "oh so y'all some new, new faces." Marshall shrugs, "somethin' like that." Deshaun waves him off, "don't mind him, y'all. He gets a little on the fence when speaking about rapping, white boy and all."

"Why? You don't gotta act all like that," King shakes her head. "If there's anyone who really understands, it's us. Despite the bullshit you get for being white, man, go ahead and shove your foot up their asses."

Before Marshall could respond, a small smile peaking across his face, a yell interrupts them. "King?! Girls?! What the fucking Hell?" 

They all turn around to see a tall, bodybuilder like man runs over the group. At first, Marshall tenses, impulsively judging him to be King's boyfriend. 

Harley pulls a 'whoopsie' expression, "let's go to the principal office, kids." King laughs, explaining to the boys, "that's Theo, he's our manager/big brother. He's only 34, but we've caused all his hair to fall out in a matter of three months."

Marshall snorts, quickly looking away. In the meantime, the group of five walk over to the stressed out Theo in hopes of deescalating his heartbeat. Deshaun pulls Marshall to the stage after a technician gestures for them. 

"Let's go, Doody," he smirks. "We can find the hottie with the tats later." 

2019 - Interview

"Wait, cause I remember that day, too," King laughs. "The first time I met The Eminem, I nearly scared the shit out of him."

The interviewer laughs, clapping his hands. "So, the late 90s-early 2000s was the peak era for both of your careers. How did you guys socialize being a part of two different genres, different entourages?"

King rubs the palm of her hands, "well... that's a good question cause we've both had a lot going on at the time. For the remaining of the Warped Tour, we hung out, but afterwards, we relied on calling each other."

"Wasn't he also with Kim at this point, as well? How did you take the idea of him being taken?" 

"Yes, they were together. I believe, that was the first time that they got married," King nods. "However, at the time, I never really cared or saw him in a romantic or sexual way."

"Really? Why?"

She shrugs, "it's simple, really. As the girls and I were starting our career in a vulnerable spot, we were more focused on trying to appease the public and our fans than we were trying to build a social life in the industry."

"Like, Iris and Tink had their sweethearts riding hard for them whereas Maliyah was stressing over the well-being of her family, and Harley and I were just focused on being the best we could be."

"And by 'vulnerable spot' in your career, what do you mean by that?"

King raises her hand, showing off the tatted backside, "Tink and I are black, Maliyah's Mexican with indigenous roots, Harley is mixed with Vietnamese and it shows in her features, and Iris is a woman pursuing a career in alternative metal."

She continues, "despite how open the alternative culture is supposed to be, it is very white male dominated and we were taking a risk at pursuing our dreams. Hell, our record label was taking a huge fucking risk with us."

1999 - MTV VMAs

It just seemed as if gifts just keep giving this year. The girls were nominated for a few awards and given an opportunity to perform on the VMA stage. 

Working with an amazing, family-like team, the girls had faith in being styled as a group without looking uncoordinated. King was dressed in a black, lace corset that stopped at her midriff paired with skinny, ripped black jeans, black leather fur-lined trench coat and matching buckled platform boots.

Maliyah was in a long, tight dramatic mermaid dress with a trail that was lined with black fur. The right side consisted of a slit that showed off her thick, platform heels designed with lunar and solar gold markings. Tink was in a one shoulder laced corset with black skinny jeans and heeled boots.

Harley dawned a simple black tank with a leather fur-lined trench that dusted the back of her knees paired with black denim bellbottoms and pointed heeled boots. Iris wore a black lace bodice silk gown that ended at her knees paired with furry sandal heels.

Posing for the paparazzi, they each posed accordingly. King and Harley simply stared down the lens while Iris and Tink grinned like the perfect celebrities and Maliyah showed off a smirk. Moving on, a journalist calls the girls over in hopes for an interview.

"Hello, girls," the woman smiles over her mic. "You all look so beautiful, today. What's the inspiration and who's responsible?" 

Maliyah answers, "we simply just went off of who we are and what fits. Now, who's responsible will have to be our amazing team known as Hoodwinkle. They just really know how to balance alternative looks with street looks."

"Well, you ladies look amazing," the reporter nods. "So, I just wanted you a couple of questions, if you don't mind. First one, how are you feeling tonight since you're nominated in four categories?"

Harley shrugs, "we wanna feel confident, but in reality, we're practically shitting our pants." The others nod, laughing. Iris adds, "I can't lie, I don't think any of us prepared a speech just in case."

King waves her off, "at least it'll be authentic if we win." The reporter laughs, nodding, "true. Next one, are there any artists that you've been waiting to see?"

Tink claps her hands, "Ms. Lauryn Hill." The girls nod in agreement. King adds on, "Smash Mouth. Our boys, Blink-182. Who else?" Iris chimes in, "and TLC."

Harley snaps her fingers, accidentally snagging King's nose ring. "Oh, my bad," she laughs at the playful side-eye. "Isn't there a newbie performing tonight? His name sounds like some damn skittles or some."

"Eminem?" The reporter asks. The drummer nods, "yeah. We met the kid a couple months back during Warped Tour, he's cool as hell." 

King and the others nod in excitement. "Oh, yeah," the leader laughs. "Add his tiny ass to the list, that's our boy." The reporter laughs, hoping to receive a story from the new information.

"So, you guys said that you met the rapper just recently, right?" She rhetorically asks. "What's he like? Is he as vulgar as his lyrics? How does he treat you since you're women?"

Immediately, the energy shifts as the girls take noticeable step from the journalist and her camera guy. Harley, Iris, and Tink shake their heads walking off whereas Maliyah tries to drag an agitated King with them. 

"First off, he's a cool ass guy who just wants to make music. Everyone is entitled to their own creative space, that's why things like songwriting and comic books aren't taught in school. They're considered creative works," King retorts. 

"And he's a gentleman who doesn't take bullshit, so piss off." She finally states, moving along with Maliyah. The reporter shrinks back in shock, not expecting a woman to come to his defense publicly. 

Taglist: @slytherinroyalty16

Series Masterlist

[wiktorianala]

My oc's + characters they were based of in one way or another

I got bored of sewing, maybe gonna continue on weekend, but anyway i decided that it's time to make smthng more with Bouney 'n Handy so there's a lil drawings and if someone is interested in me yapping about them, story, 'n other stuffs then click here \/

Oki, so I'll start with at which point they were based of well, Salad and Madotsuki. Starting from Handy because this will take me less time. She was created waaay later, at moment when I wanted to start working on comic, so I had to make second character just so Bouney wouldn't be only one, well i wanted to make her an object head of some kind to match with the fact that Bouney's head was created out of rotated eye. It is not anymore but that was honestly how I created this little freak. Fine but coming back to topic I wanted to give her some kind of object, and I'm honestly shit when it come to making any decisions myself, so with my friend we just looked throught my entire sketchbook and we found drawing of Madotsuki with hand palm effect (because I was pretty much fixated over this game and bigger part of sketchbook had Yume Nikki drawings), so we just picked hand. Now, with Bouney it's longer story, just like I said, I created him way earlier, so first thing he got after Salad were simple plain clothes 'cuz I'm layzy and absolutelly didn't wanted to bother with drawing anything complicated over and over again (and I picked Salad, because once again, yes it was my fixation at that time, and I want to remind that thos are two different times btw). So at the point when I wanted to start making thos comics and when I already had character designs I had to give them personalities and story, and the story... it was pretty different from what it is now. First vershion of it was too about a empty world and all thos stuffs, this didn't change, but main difference was the fact that in earlier ver Bouney was only living creature in this world. Handy was more of some kind of imaginary friend that appeared in his head due to loneliness there. (this a bit was based out of Salad too, because, ya know, empty weird world, clearly not very sane main creature character 'n thos stuffs) Plot mostly was just like in current vershion pretty goofy 'n just some "everyday stuffs", but at some points it was getting pretty heavy and sad. AND YES I KNOW THAT IT SOUNDED MUCH MORE INTERESTING, honestly at some point even I liked it more in this way, but there were two main reasons why I changed it. First one, fact that Handy wasn't really a physical person caused some technical writing issues that maybe been not that hard to fix, but as once already I said- I'm layzy, so I didn't wanted to be bothered by them. And now second and honestly more important reason (at least for me), it was time when I was making 2nd re-write of "Fragments of Sanity" plot (rn I'm working on 3rd, and I hope last one, because I want to finally make it into comic too) and I mean first version of it was pretty, well sad (I can't really find better word for it), but on second version? Oh boy, let me tell ya this shit is even worse (and main reason for this is probably because I dunno when but Mike ended up being at least in his personality and behavior (not by plot) a bit of self insert). So I didn't really wanted both of my projects to be like that, and I wantd at least one of them to be one with wich I could more goof around, so yeah, I've changed it. Well I guess that's all I wanted to say? I dunno. I know that in 95% no one is about to read this, but anyway I feel at least better when I can yap somewhere about some certain stuffs, and hey, ain't that for what blogs even exist? For people to yap, and do stuffs they like? Damn after writing for such a long time about them I guess I have a need rn to finish this god damned 3rd chapter. So yeah, now that's all.

[ashsostrange]

"averagegirlie" is just "xxoxobree", formerly known as "breeandhermunches" on a burner. newsflash, your "fav" miles writer isn't who you think she is!

ik a lot of us must be VERY confused so let me help you out. @/averagegirlie and @/xxoxobree are the same mfkn person! why did bree make this account? i assume that it's so she could fend for herself and keep the "unbothered" act up on her main page. that's why she deletes all her reblogs after arguing w someone then comes over to this account to start bsing. not to mention she can say extremely problematic things with no repercussions, because she doesn't have a following on that page + it's not tied to her.. at least it wasn't before! bree's a very messy liar. i peeped the truth so lemme share it w y'all.

bree if you're seeing this, go take a couple shots before you read. you should've kept it cute but you didn't, so let's get nasty mf.

i have receipts! let's start right here cz i find this the funniest:

nobody but her spells "internet" like that... this is one of the many examples of the two accounts talking alike, even though bree said she wouldn't refer to "yao" as a friend when the whole rashad thing was going down. yesterday, i reminded yao of that. she said "i like bree, so what" but she deleted that and changed it to "when are y'all gonna catch on to the fact that we talk?" mhm.. bree's a lil confused, but next!

y'all see "yao's" tag? telling alexa to play some bs... then y'all see bree?? NEXT!

go look on miss average's page. she only comes online to defend and ride the hell out of bree's dick. remember ts w amani? why are you going so hard for someone who says they dk you like that LMFAO. not to mention, when the rashad shit was happening, bree said "this my girl and she never been wrong" but then she turns around and says "i wouldn't say we're friends" WHICH ONE IS IT MISS MUNCH??! 😭🤣🤣 next!

why we praising tf out of bree's oc? ts was ai bro. we got a self supafan. next...

look at this smart anon, putting tg the pieces and shit. "ash and dalia fight your battles every time" is literally.. a lie. what battles are we referring to? talia's never in drama as much as you're implying. and ima ride for my friends anyway, tf? but my entire blog will never be centered around ONE human being. it ain't that serious ever. "yao" and bree need hobbies cz writing obv ain't doing it for her. next.

bree has also said she's messy lol. she likes drama. hm!

look at how she came on her white horse when bree was battling the great war w anons over miles morales smut (which i don't fw, js to be clear.) who summoned her? BREE LMFAIOFHDGFKJAS... NEXT!!!

here's miss xxoxo munches being ableist, much like her alter ego. bro went silent and blocked lia after this. now let's get into miss average again.

look at this bs. ion even gotta say much.. this girl is black & not chinese!! y'all should know why this is weird. here's the "evidence" she gave me btw:

here's me proving her wrong! she tried! next.

y'all see the way they're tagging their posts w their usernames? mhm.. ik you do.

HMMM....

these are both bree. i don't mean to bring up maye again, but i have to for context. what happened wasn't js "drama"... the things she said to dalia were racist + that post she was lyin' about lia in. she also liked the post.. dead giveaway you silly bitch! 🥱 nd she was also instigating in honey's inbox. i know her typing style and her emoji colors lol. it's common sense atp. it's not hard to tell when an anon is bree. and from what i'm seeing not even maye is fw her.. LMFAISAIDHSAY GIRL YOU'RE DONE! 😭 feel free to go thru their accs, you'll see ts too. she's funny asf for this, i'll give her that and that only. i've never laughed so much in under 24 hours. 💓

in conclusion, bree is messy, bored, insecure, ableist & miserable! she thought nobody would ever find out but here we are today. she fronts not gaf but then switches to this acc to let off some serious steam... as miss freeman once said: "Alexa, play yikes!"

but bless bree 💗 maybe if you change now, you'll still be able to collect your tokens like dalia says.

[itwasthereaminuteago]

|| Black eyed & Blue ||

Chapter 1 - Skull & Crossed Wires

Frank Castle x Female Reader/OC

Notes: I'm posting this first short chapter in my Frank Castle and female OC/reader mini series in the hope that it will spur me on to finish it! I have some other chapters written already just need to get them where I want them and write some more. 😊

Warnings: kidnapping, blood, biting, general vampire themes, fluff & smut, frank being protective, Matt makes an appearance.

Please comment and let me know what you enjoy or would like to see as the story develops and I'll see what I can do!

Frank managed to limp his van to the nearest garage before it crapped out entirely. He had cleared it out after his latest 'road trip' back at the safe house. It wouldn't do any good if the mechanics found any of his arsenal…

He left them with the keys and said he'd check back in a couple of days. Leaving a cell number was out of the question too, he still wasn't quite comfortable leaving much of a trace even if he was now 'Pete'.

He walked up to the shop office two days later, hopeful he could throw down a few hundred and get going. A fraught looking gangly guy was having an in-depth discussion on the phone as he entered. He passively waved Frank in the direction of the garage floor, pulling the phone away from his mouth and yelling towards the doorway.

"Blue! Customer!"

Frank gave him a semi-polite nod and headed through the side door where his van was jacked up, a pair of dark blue Converse sticking out from underneath.

"Uh, right. Guess it ain't ready yet." Frank ventured.

"No shit Sherlock." A voice came from below.

"Can see why you got Shaggy on the front desk there, customer service ain't your thing huh?"

The feet peddled their way out from under the van to reveal a woman with her hair tied up out of her face with a blue bandana. She had an oil-smudged face, and chipped sky blue nail polish on her fingers. Her mouth dropped open as she pushed herself up and took in the figure of Frank standing over her.

"Oh fuck- I mean, shit! Damn! Fuck!" She winced. "I'm really sorry mister… thought you were Ray winding me up again. Sorry, I'm trying not to cuss as much but, um…"

Frank couldn't help the sly smile from spreading across his lips.

"Think you're doin' well enough. Don't you worry about it. Maybe uh, you can gimme an idea when she'll be ready?"

She got to her feet, wiping her oily hands on her dirty coveralls, which were also blue.

"Well, that's the thing. I'm still waiting for a part to come. I woulda called you to let you know but, uh, you didn't leave a number so…

"Yeah, don't have a phone." He scratched at the back of his neck uncomfortably. "Kinda hate all that tech shit y'know."

"Wow. Well, okay old man, I'm not sure exactly when it'll arrive, our supplier is vague at the best of times, I really wanna find someone better but…"

Frank couldn't help grumbling a little. He was keen to get back on the road, after all, biker gang ass wasn't gonna kick itself. "Then I guess 'i'll just keep comin' back every day till she's ready."

Blue smiled politely. "Once it's here I'll get it fixed as fast as I can but if you refuse to have a phone like us regular people I guess that's just what you'll have to do. See you tomorrow then?"

Frank nodded. "Yeah. See ya tomorrow."

The next day Frank dropped by the garage late afternoon, he'd had a particularly rough night chasing down some dregs of the Dogs of War that refused to go down easily.

"Jeez, what the heck happened to you?" Blue asked, looking up and seeing the dark bruises around his eyes as she heard him come in. "I mean, if you don't mind me asking? Those are some shiners."

"Walked into the side of the door when I got up during the night to piss. Bein' how I'm an 'old man' an all," Frank deadpanned back.

"No shit. You gotta be more careful, looks a bit like someone belted you right in the kisser!"

Frank shrugs.

"To be honest I wouldn't be too surprised if they had. Don't take this the wrong way but you've kinda got one of those punchable looking faces, mister..?"

"It's uh, Pete." Frank replies with a slight chuckle, only slightly offended. "And is that so?"

She holds out her oily hand for him to shake. "Hi Mister Pete. They call me Blue. And yeah, I mean you're real good looking and all but-" she stopped as Frank shook his head and laughed.

"Jeez, I really gotta stop running my mouth around strangers! I am so sorry…"

Frank holds up both hands giving her a smile, it had been a while since he had laughed as much. "Hey, no worries. Punchable and good lookin'? I'll take it. So, Blue, huh? No need for me to ask why I guess. "

She returns the smile, scuffing the toe of her shoe into the ground shyly. "I just like the colour."

Frank clears his throat. "So uh, there any news on that part yet?"

"Oh! Yeah, um it might be tomorrow but…"

"Might not?" Frank finishes with a slightly tense shrug.

"Yeah, really sorry about this, Pete. I'd even go as far as to offer you a free coffee in apology but our machine's bust, and even if it was working it tastes crap anyway."

"Don't worry about it. Alright well, guess I'll seeya tomorrow again."

Blue gave him a little wave. "Yeah, seeya tomorrow Old Man, hope I've got some good news for you then."

Frank just shakes his head, smiling to himself as he leaves the garage and sets off back home.

The next day, when Frank turns up, Blue's face is bright with the biggest smile, and it only got brighter as she saw what 'Pete' had in his hands.

"Hey!" She greets him animatedly and it makes him feel a little warmer inside.

Frank nods then hands her one of the carryout cups of coffee he has. "Hey, didn't know how you take it but I got some sugar and milk here too if you want, seeing as your machine is broken an all."

Blue beams, her fingers brushing briefly over his as she accepts it. "Oh, thank you so much! And no, that's great, straight up is perfect, so kind of you, thanks Pete!"

Frank shrugs. "S'nothin'."

She takes a hearty sip and then remembers what she was about to say. "Good news by the way, the part arrived this morning! I'm about to get on it right now, shouldn't take too long if you don't mind waiting?"

Frank nods, finding a space to sit nearby. "Yeah, sure, if you don't mind me watching you work."

She disappears under the van. "Actually, gives me the chance to ask what the hell you've been putting this poor van through, you gotta take more care of her if you don't want to run her into the ground."

Frank huffed. "Yeah, just been real busy, y'know, and my work takes me all kinds of places, some uh, rough terrain."

"What kind of business are you in Pete?"

He scratches the stubble under his chin. "Uh, removals, pest control, odd jobs. That kinda stuff."

"A Pete of all trades?" Blue suggests, and Frank has to laugh.

"Yeah," again he feels the rare smile stretch his face as he strokes his stubbled jaw. "Somethin' like that."

It wasn't till later, when he was on the road again rummaging through the glovebox for the map when his hand landed on the tin of sweets. He took them out, curious seeing the note stuck to the lid.

'Something to sweeten you up, old man :)

-Blue'

He chuckles to himself as he opens the tin and takes a candy.

[hellaverseapocalypse]

And The Whirlwind Is In The Tree

Striker's Story - A Helluva AU

Pairing: Striker and OC Amelda(adoptive father/daughter relationship)

Warnings: angst, whump, hurt-comfort, injury, blood, harsh language, death, gore, killing in self-defense, graphic depictions of violence.

Summary: What if the Angels didn't stop at the Pride Ring? What if they didn't stop on Extermination Day? What if they never stopped? This is Striker's story of how he survived those 7 years of the angel invasion. An Apocalypse type story co-written by two fans! R&R.

Notes: Welcome! This is the start of myself(@storm89) and Candy's story, And the Whirlwind is in the Tree. (It's a lyric from a Johnny Cash Song). It all started from a fan art we saw, and the idea just snowballed from there. We decided to start with everyone's favorite cowboy, Striker. I hope you all enjoy our hard work! Also, big shout out to @eyecandyeoz for being an awesome editor and the bombastic art she made! We don't own Helluva boss, but we do own Amelda.

 Read on ao3 - 1k words

If you asked Striker where he was at Angel Invasion, he would tell you the truth.

He was robbing a corpse.

Whenever there is extermination, he usually waits it out and robs whatever corpses he can find. Sometimes he luckily finds a dead overlord, they carry the best loot.

This extermination felt different.

There was tension in the air, something that made his tail rattle nervously.

For one thing, the sirens rang way earlier than usual and then the angels started swarming;more than usual.

He then saw one kill an imp and then another kill a Goetia.

The rules have changed.

Striker quickly goes to an alley to find cover, trying to outrun the screams he hears.

They seem to be louder than usual.

Windows shatter around him, exploding from the angelic force. He was about to try to run into a building when red feather caught his eye,

He looked and froze.

A red feathered Goetia lay dead on the ground, next to him was a Wrathian female imp. He wondered briefly if they were lovers when he heard a small cry. He looks at a nearby dumpster and finds a surprise..

There was a small owlet sobbing as she hugged herself. Her red feather shows her parentage to the dead Goetia, but the biggest surprise is the nubby imp horns on her head.

A hybrid...like him.

“This ain't my problem.” he thought as he backed away; his boot breaking a piece of glass. The halfling eyes shot up at the noises and her eyes locked on his.

The two stared at each other, both not moving.

A nearby scream breaks the tense moment and Striker will later blame what happened next to be the result of unnatural imp instinct.

He reached over and grabbed the halfling, breaking into a run. She suddenly screeched, wriggling out of his hold and running back to the fallen Goetia.

“Oh you little shit!” Striker growled as he grabbed the halfling again, noticing she took something from her fathers body.

He didn't know where he was running, all he knew is that he had to find somewhere safe. An angel attempted to cast a charm on him, but he dispatched it quickly with a swift bullet to its head. The owlet gave another screech, making him turn and face the tip of an angelic spear.

Raging pain exploded in his left eye, making Striker roar in pain as he staggered. He felt that same angel throw him towards a wall, making his head spin.

Before he went unconscious, he heard more gunshot and a tiny hand pulling his own.

666

Striker groaned as he woke up. A pulsing pain in his eye made him sit up quickly, making his head swim.

“Take it easy, you gonna make yourself sick.”

Striker looked to the source of the voice and saw it was that imp woman that worked for Blitz. What was her name again?

“It's Millie, by the way.” she said, raising her eyebrow at him. Too many questions popped into his head, his sense trying to catch up with his thoughts.

“Something was different,” he mumbled. “Th-the extermination.”

“Yeah.” She said, “ This wasn’t an extermination. It looked to be more like an invasion. We been hearing that the angels are not just attacking folks in Pride, we heard that somehow they are also going to the other rings.”

Striker sat back, letting the news sink in.

Oh this was a bitch of a fucked up situation. He then glared at her.

“The hell you save me for?” He asked, “We're not exactly friends.”

“We are being invaded for fucks sake.” She said with an exasperated sigh. “We gonna need all the help we can get.”

Striker huffed, he guess that makes sense. A thought suddenly jolted him from his seat.

“Wait there was a kid with me!”

Millie placates him with a raised hand.

“She's fine, don't worry.” She said, “ Really scared, but she ain’t hurt anywhere.”

She then looked at him intensely.

“Why’d you save her?” She asked, “Thought you hated anyone that was royals.”

“I don't know.” He shrugged, “I just felt like I had to.”

Millie nodded, a knowing smile on her face to showcase her paternal understanding. Striker growled at that, his hand running over his own features. He froze when he felt the coarse bandages shielding his face.

“Shit, what's with my face?”

Striker shot out of the bed and rushed to a nearby vanity, removing his bandages with haste as he looked in the mirror.

He had a large gash over his left eye and coarse stitches sealing the open wound shut. His eye was now milky and lifeless. Decrepit.

Fuck his life.

He was blind in his left eye.

All to save some royal bastard.

“Hey.” Millie said, getting his attention. “You gotta get yourself together. Pride isn't safe anymore.”

“So where are you going?”

“Lust. It way safer than Pride.”

“What makes you think I will go with you?” Striker scoffed.

“Cause there's nowhere else to go?” She said with a shrug, about to leave, but then looked back at him, “By the way, the little owl’s name. Its Amelda.”

She leaves the room, leaving Striker alone with his thoughts.

666

When Striker finally went outside, he saw a lot of people, mostly Imps, packing whatever they had and going through the ruins.

Sweet Satan, Pride was in shambles.

Buildings were toppled and bodies littered the streets. He could see angels flying in the distance, circling over Pentagram City like vultures.

“Hey!”

He turns and sees Blitz waving at him.

“Your horse is here.” He said, pointing to the side, turning back to the IMP company van. “Get ready, we are leaving in five.”

Striker would argue back but his new blind eye throbbed. He went to his horse (Fuck, he loved this horse so damn much) and petted his fiery mane.

“Boy, just what the hell did we get ourselves into?”

He heard a chirp behind him and saw Amelda peeking at him from behind a wrecked car. His tail rattled and whipped in annoyance as he sneered at the halfling.

“Piss off,kid!”

The child didn't move, still staring at him with her purple gaze. Millie appeared next to her and gently took Amelda’s hand.

“Come over here, honey.” she said as she led her away, Amelda still watching him.

Striker shook his head and mounted Bombproof, clicking his tongue as he grabbed the reins.

Something has definitely changed, he thought as he looked at Pride's ruins.

Things are definitely going to be different from now on.

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

Taglist: @captxin-rex @gospelofme @fangirl-goes-nova @romanoffs-gf @sstarwarsss @r2d2staser @nahoney22 @ashotofspotchka @art-of-the-twistedstitcher @only-a-simp-deals-in-absolutes @justalittletomato @twiggoblin @xsherryberryx @kriffclone @deewithani @tinker-tech @megafrost4 @minx067 @freesia-writes @boontaeveboba @ahoeformando @arctrooper69 @taz-107 @lizzowinkyface @chad-something @nobody-expects-the-inquisitorius @merkitty49 @nonsenseandm3mes @id-rather-be-a-druid @m-o-o-n-s-g-o-o-n-s @the-chains-are-the-easy-part @succulent-momma @virtualexpertanchor @padawancat97 @amorfista @storm89 @hurtbywhisperedmuses @misogirl828 @seriowan @plushymiku-blog @the-dathomirian-jedi @ladykatakuri @mysticalgalaxysalad @talesfrommedinastation @dukeoftheblackstar @littlecrowtime

[drenosa]

Inspired by an oc of @evenmorefatallyobsessed (mild nfsw alert btw)

Neptune: *Holding up a dating app on a Scroll in front of Sun, swiping either left or right at the Monkey Faunus' direction* Look, sometimes you got to take some drastic measures to get over a girl. Sure, you're saying you're happy to just be friends with Blake, but that doesn't mean you have to forget about your needs.

Sun: *Listening with half-a-mind* Sure... Left. Left. ... Right. Left. Ooh, Deffo Right. Says she also likes to use her tail for ~fun~.

Neptune: Yeah, you're getting it. Don't worry, bud. This Certified Lady's Man will help you get your groove!

Sun: *Pausing his swiping to give Neptune a pointed look* Certified, huh?

Neptune: *Coughs slightly* Ye-yes, now come on. Just a few more.

Sun: Uh-huh... Left. Right. Left. Left. ... !!! *Snatches the Scroll out of a surprised Neptune's hand* Oh, Right to the Hells to the Yeah! Bona-Fide Major MILF!

Neptune: Woah, seriously?! Lemme see, lemme see! *Grabs the Scroll back*

Sun: Never saw an office jacket and pencil skirt look THAT good before. And on an ass like that?! Gawd DAYUM!

Neptune: No way, someone look that good for you to... to- *Stares at the Scroll in abject shock and horror* Ah... fuck.

Sun: *Blinking away his surprise at Neptune's reaction* Whu... what, she got some super red flags or something?

Neptune: Uh... Yeah?! Holy hell, that's my Mom!

Sun: ...

Neptune: ...

Sun: Bitch. Would! *Starts climbing over the table to get at the Scroll and Neptune* Gimme that scroll back! I got to message her ASAP!

Neptune: Hell no! *Shoving a hand in Sun's face to keep him away* Back off, motherfucker! This shit ain't gonna happen!

Sun: *Smushed face* Fwuf hoo! ma honna bu a mahafaha fu wheel! Himme! [Fuck you! I'm gonna be a motherfucker for real! Gimme!]

Neptune: *Using multiple limbs to keep Sun away* Bros before hoes, dick-weasel! My mom ain't no hoe fo' sho'!

Sun: *Face unsmushed, trying his hardest to reach the promised land that is his Scroll* Imma weasel my dick into her! My hoe will plough her fields something fierce. Now give my Scroll back!

Neptune: That's a no from me, Bitch!

Neptune&Sun: *Start wrestling WWE-style*

~~~~~~~~~~

Yang: *Seated with Blake not far from the SeaMonkey Bros* So... that guy at one point, huh?

Blake: *Mildly embarrassed at the short-lived crush* At one point, yes.

Yang: *Grinning bemusedly* Certainly a catch that slipped away. Can't believe I got reeled in instead.

Blake: *Elbows Yang in the ribs* Shush you. I can still do a catch-and-release with you.

Yang: Hehe. Love you too, Blakey.

Blake: *Muttering* You better.

[the-cat-and-the-birdie]

My Spidersona's Fighting Style (in Gifs):

Disco-Spider!Diane

Got this idea from the lovely @hrhmimieucliffe who has THE BEST OC and THE BEST ART jkfgjjkhgdfkg

I know the TikTok Trend is one gif only but i don't respect tiktok and I don't take orders neither does he

Derby Demolition -

This ain't all Disco-dancing and party-prancing - Diane LOVES Roller Derby too. And growing up in a house full of older-'brothas', Diane knows how to tussle.

More into Impact Play, you're more likely to catch an elbow to the teeth rather than a web to the face.

Diane punches, trips, headbutts, elbows, shoves, chokeholds - you name it, she'll do it. And her main weapon are her skates.

Diane is known to fight 'feet-first', with lots of kicks, and her skates are like her brass knuckles.

Getting kicked in the face with the truck (metal part) of her skates, you're 100% coming out of it with a broken nose. Lots of criminals in 1294 has crooked noses for a reason, ouch.

The Speed -

Diane's biggest asset is her speed.

Categorized by Lyla's systems as a 'Speedster Spider', like Jessica Drew - Diane belongs to a class of Spider's known for showing up fast and ending fights quick.

If you're on foot, on bike, in a car - you're not out-running her. If you're on land - you're not out-gunning her. If she wants to catch you, she's on your ass like white on rice.

People don't expect much from the skates - but surprisingly, she avoids much of the typical issues most Speedsters do. No gas tank to worry about, no loud engine, no need to stick to streets, can't be knocked off them - plus she can stick to freaking walls.

She's a speed power-house all by herself.

With Super-strength and training, Diane has legs stronger than Serena Williams on steroids. Using tactics to pick up speed, flips, skating on walls, and holding on to cars, Diane can clock up to 85-100mph (130-160kph) - almost twice as fast as the top speed skater, or a bit over the world's fastest pitch, doing this by using her webs as a slingshot for her.

She's fucking fast.

Style Points -

If you're gonna do it, do it well, am I right?

Diane is all for the style points - often pulling flips, axel spins, and turns from figure skating.

Part function and Part flair - Diane does this to pick up velocity while skating, or she'll attach one of her gold bangles to a web, spinning rapidly to swing it around her.

But it's also for fun. Like most Spider-people, she loves to show off and talk back during battle, and doing flips are her way of running circles around a villain.

You're a hardened criminal with malicious intent but you're getting your ass-beat by a walking Lisa Frank sticker, PLUS she's listening to Rick James on a Walkman, PLUS she's doing Olympic flips and shit.

This has become an in-joke with her fans.

From a New York where the neighborhoods are split into strict 'Police-Managed' and Black Panther territories - the general opinion of the public is pretty split on Disco-Spider because of it. At the very least, J.Jonah - a more militant Black Panther radio host - seems to think she's conceited and a 'lost sista'. Whatever, Hotep.

But one of the symbols of support for Disco-Spider is a simple white sign with a ten on it - like figure skating judges.

Created by Disco's supporters at the Discos and Queer Clubs she protects from police - the signs give Diane 10 out of 10's on style points.

Likewise, Black-Owned shops in the area can display a small '10' sign in their window to show they're under Disco's protection, along with '10' stickers on sign posts that are placed in areas she's considered to watch and patrol.

Disco and her supporters call her territory 'Disco's Haus', often referring to Disco as 'MamaDisco', though - they don't know Diane's really only 20. For their safety, most of them do not know who she is, and Disco might attend queer balls and discos masked. Though she usually just goes as plain-ol (yeah right) Diane.

Isn't it crazy that Diane ALWAYS misses it when Disco is here? Bummer.

10 outta 10 she's a bad bitch

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UMMM If you read this far thank you SO MUCH I LOVE SHARING THIS SO MUCH

And I'd love to see more people do this!

If you're down for it - show your sona's fighting style in 3 gifs (or more, or less, no rules!!)

I wanna see the type of woop ass we gonna release on Miguel