#drawing guitars my nemesis

[d0ubledarez]

please say next year that u will be mine

[impale-me-radio-daddy]

The Lookalike (Part 7)

☒ Summary: The first thing you remembered after your death was an argument. “No, this isn’t one of my fucking sluts.” The man behind you exhaled, frustrated. “This is a present for you. Something to help you work through your Alastor fixation.” You awaken in Hell as the near-spitting image of a certain infamous radio host. Unfortunately for you, you immediately fall into the clutches of his nemesis, then into the arms of the radio demon himself. 

☒ Warnings: hermaphrodite!reader, deer!reader, they/them pronouns used, reader x Alastor, reader x Vox, Alastor x Vox, explicit content, reader is in Hell for a reason, Valentino, canon typical scenarios, injury, gratuitous use of tentacles.

☒ Series links: Part I Part2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 6 BONUS SCENE Part 8 Part 9 Epilogue

The fight you’d had with Alastor hadn’t exactly quelled your bloodlust, but it had taken the edge off. He still hadn’t let you leave the hotel, though, and you could guess the reason. The pending confrontation gave a purpose to the edginess you felt, and you were settled into a quiet, predatory waiting.

You made the small preparations you could, and listened to Alastor’s record collection on the newly repaired player.

It was a little scary how quickly the bedtime routine had charmed you, the half hour of quiet before Alastor would sigh and put his book aside, lights dimming, his body warm through the thin fabric of your pajamas. Sometimes you would kiss, sometimes you would talk in the dark, limbs casually twined. Your conversations had moved to more dangerous topics than mere pleasantries; now you talked about musical theory and parts of your mortal lives, topics that you could argue about and secrets that were sweet, inconsequential morsels of each other. The death of a childhood pet, the use of steel guitar on a certain record, a half-remembered fairground treat. All of this was bookended by his smiling lips soft against yours, at once chaste and suggestive. His kisses were a question- would you debase yourself, ask for more than he was so generously giving? Or would you simply close your eyes and hope that his lips would part for you, that the tips of his sharp teeth would graze your lips, his tongue twining against yours?

Sometimes he would do the latter, kissing you until the ache of arousal resounded like a drumbeat between your legs, and then draw back, smiling, and announce that he was going to sleep.

In the morning, both of you would wake but not admit to having done so, basking in the plausible deniability of the early hours. His breathing, steady rather than deep, told you that the way he pressed against you was deliberate, and you suspected that your breathing told him the same as you twined your fingers with his and raised his hand to your lips. The noise that escaped him was soft, somewhere between a sigh and a squeak, and when you rose from the bed, his eyes held the unspoken expectation that you would tell no-one of it.

That morning was languid, waking as usual with Alastor, performing your ablutions, dressing, and sitting down for breakfast. Food in Hell was an odd mix, really. Some things tasted pretty normal, considering the changes to your physiology. Others, well.

You watched as Alastor dumped the rotting deer carcass on the table. “Really?”

Alastor’s gaze was knowing. “Sit.”

There were flies buzzing around the corpse. One landed on the head, crawling between the creatures ears, and the scent of decay was ripe and heavy. You didn’t have a particularly weak stomach; couldn’t afford to, but everything about this was making your brain scream that this wasn’t food. “If this disagrees with me, then-”

“Then?” Alastor raised an eyebrow.

“Then you’ll want me in a different bedroom.”

“Darling.” Alastor gave a snort of laughter as he took his seat. “If I wanted to poison you, I wouldn’t need to go to such lengths.” He stuck a fork in the side of the deer, twisted it, and pulled a chunk of meat out for himself, popping it in his mouth and chewing slowly.

Rather than give you the fork, he skewered a second forkful of meat himself, twisting it out, and offered it, tines first.

The smell alone made you want to recoil, but Alastor had eaten the flesh, and you did trust him. Enough to fight down your baser instincts, and accept the gift, at least.

You opened your mouth and let him feed you, keeping your eyes on his. The venison wasn’t bad, actually. The sweetness of the rot took away the gamey edge of the meat, and rendered it more tender than the flesh of a wild animal had any right to be. Your opinion clearly registered on your face, because Alastor’s smile widened a little, the corners of his eyes creasing.

“See? What did I tell you?”

Truthfully, you didn’t mind the treatment he gave you, and being fed morsels by him was part of that. In isolation it would have felt strange, but having woken up draped over each other a half hour previously, you simply soaked in the flash of pride that flickered across his face as he saw you enjoying the dish.

He was feeding you a second forkful as Vaggie burst into the room. “Alastor, there’s a documentary crew-”

Alastor turned his head towards her, only his head, the fork remaining by your mouth. “It’s rude to enter a gentleman’s room unannounced, you know,” he said, mildly.

Vaggie looked at Alastor, then you, then Alastor, expression somewhere between irritation and disgust. “There’s a whole load of them, and we could really use a hand.”

“Could you now?” Alastor turned back to you, dabbing your bottom lip with a napkin. “The king of Hell missing in action, is he?”

“Just come help,” said Vaggie, with a shake of her head.

Alastor smiled broadly. “Absolutely not.” His expression shifted subtly, to a smile that you had learned to associate with Alastor being pleased with himself. “I believe we had an agreement. That I would never be required to engage with the frivolous technology known as television ever again.”

Vaggie glared at him. “You’re still holding me to that?”

“Of course! I take all of my deals very seriously.” Alastor tilted his head. “Was that all? I was hoping to finish my breakfast with my friend here.”

Vaggie slammed the door on the way out, a few choice curse words in her wake.

“You’re worried,” you said, watching Vaggie leave. Approaching Alastor in the work day would have him waving you away with a snide nothing, but for now you were alone and unobserved.

His ear twitched towards you, eyes not leaving the door. “Vox is well within my capabilities,” he replied, a little terse. Despite all his talk, Alastor was on edge. You could tell from the strained corners of his eyes, the way his shadow flickered and skulked.

You watched him carefully. Vox was a sore spot; the two of them had history. Questioning Alastor’s capabilities at this point, or even pointing out his injuries, would only earn you his ire. “I have skin in this game too.”

“You are a freshly dead soul,” said Alastor, pointedly. He was right, in a way. You had no power; neither shadows or electricity at your command. The only element that could feasibly be yours to command was the element of surprise. “As I said before, if you can avoid his hypnosis, that would be convenient. I’d rather not have to disable you.”

You gave him a long stare, your gaze settling on his throat, where he still wore his collar buttoned high. “You’re sure there’s nothing else I can do?”

“No. Although…” Alastor gave you a sultry look. “If you could see to it that you’re smiling today?”

Vox was sure this was a trap.

But fuck it if he wasn’t about to go in anyway. Velvette would tear him a new one for going in without consulting her. Val would tear him a new one for not inviting him along to Angel Dust’s living space. Vox had considered the latter, but dealing with Valentino’s probable tantrum over Angel Dust on top of whatever Alastor had planned for him was too much on the plate, even for him.

Being in the radio demon’s territory like this, even with the invitation, felt wrong. It made Vox feel uneasy. The feeling wasn’t helped by the lack of electronics in the hotel; about half the light fixtures seemed to be powered by angelic magic rather than actual electricity, and someone, Alastor if Vox had to guess, had set up Faraday enclosures in the walls through much of the rest of the hotel, which had the documentary staff complaining about poor signal, and Vox worrying about escape routes if this went badly. Yeah, this was definitely a trap.

Alastor traipsed through the hotel in your usual outfit of waistcoat, shirtsleeves and definitely not Alastor novelty fez, allowing himself a small smile for decency’s sake. It was strange how differently the other staff treated him in your disguise; even grumpy old Husker gave him a perfunctory nod as he passed, which he returned with a gesture he’d seen you perform, touching his index and ring finger to his brow.

Charlie was showing the film crew around, her smile as big as anything as she talked about the hotel’s mission, and the process of rebuilding the hotel after the failed extermination. As Alastor suspected, Vox was there, tailing behind the rest of the group.

Of course, you hadn’t picked a moniker for yourself yet, which wasn’t all that uncommon for fresh souls. Angel Dust called you Smiles Two briefly, before switching to a joking Full Range of Facial Expressions. Husk and Vaggie both stuck with Murder Twin, and Niffty had for some reason that Alastor couldn’t fathom settled on calling you Comrade. As far as Alastor had seen you were entirely beneath Lucifer’s notice, but on her handful of visits Angel Dust’s friend Cherri referred to you as Resting Bitch Face Alastor.

“Oh, hey there-” Charlie waved, clearly hesitant on the prospect of calling someone Murder Twin in front of a documentary crew.

“Charlie! Hello!” Alastor softened his transatlantic accent just slightly to sound more like you. “No time to chat, I have rooms to clean!”

“Oh, okay!” chirped Charlie, as Alastor sauntered past. “Keep up the good work!”

Alastor made a show of noticing Vox as he passed the group. Just as truth made the foundation for all the best lies, so to did true feeling make the best foundation for a charade. Alastor centered his memories of Vox; of poor, hopeless young Vox, so eager to impress. That Vox, he had been very fond of, once upon a time. And now? Vox’s power worried him, planting seeds of fear in his heart. In his current state, he could not afford a direct confrontation. Alastor called on all of this for his expressions. At the first glance, he let his eyes widen with shock, his smile faltering but not falling, before he turned to go.

Vox wasn’t stupid enough to chase Alastor down a blind corridor, but he was stupid enough to chase someone he thought was you. Alastor’s face broke into a grin as he heard Vox come after him, splitting from the group. The rebuilt hotel was a maze of corridors, and Alastor made sure to lead Vox down a few before coming to the planned dead end, facing the wall.

Vox grabbed Alastor, arm around his waist. “He’s made you into a fucking janitor? You shoulda stayed with me, baby.”

Alastor shoved down the shriek of distortion that rose within him at the unwanted contact. “Get your hands off of me.”

“C’mon, be reasonable here.” Vox was wheedling, now. He had learned that from Alastor. “I could treat you like royalty.” His touch was much too familiar, claws trailing below the navel to Alastor’s hips, and the thought of him touching you like this left a burnt, sour taste in Alastor’s mouth.

“Oh, could you now?” Alastor let the act slip, let his antlers grow, let his filters lend distortion and depth to his voice. “That’s not what you said in your last broadcast.”

Vox’s eyes grew wide as the realization that he had just bodily grabbed the radio demon settled in. He let go, stepping back. “Fuck! Alastor!”

“That’s my name, don’t wear it out.” Alastor smiled to himself as he turned. He had Vox right where he needed him, off balance and falling into reflexive deference. In this sort of state, using his hypnosis wouldn’t even occur to the man. “Did you mistake me for my double? And after we’ve known each other for so long, too. I’m disappointed.”

“You tricked me, you old timey-” Vox started, but when he saw the look in Alastor’s eyes, he flinched. “I’m fuckin’ sorry, okay? It’s hard to tell the difference.”

“That was a very familiar embrace you gave me,” said Alastor, stepping forward, intruding into Vox’s personal space. “Could it be that you’re fond of my little impostor? That you’ve come to get them back?”

Alastor watched Vox’s face closely. Even now, after their estrangement, the man was an open book to him, and he registered the slight panic as his statement hit home. Vox was very fond of you, it seemed. All the more reason for Alastor to make his claim clear.

Vox didn’t admit it, though, and took a deep breath before he spoke. “No,” he lied, eyes closed. “I’m just here to talk about your offer. That’s all.”

Alastor smiled. “Splendid,” he said.

“Holy shit.” Vox sat back in his chair, exhaling. “You’re actually going to let me watch? From the armchair?”

The three of you were sat round a table in Alastor’s room, wards on the door so thick that the flies from the swamp dropped dead when they flew near it. As per Alastor’s instructions, you kept smiling, careful not to make prolonged eye contact with Vox. Vox’s gaze kept flicking between you, Alastor, and the neatly made bed behind you

“For a price, yes.” Alastor’s eyebrows rose, his grin predatory. “I might be old fashioned about these things, but I still have an eye for when something is going for considerably higher than the expected market rate. And when someone petitions a power higher than myself to breach my privacy, well. I’d be a fool if I didn’t at least consider a counter-offer. Particularly when I stand to lose nothing.”

“Alastor.” Vox’s expression froze briefly, as if he was having trouble processing what he was hearing.

“After all-” Alastor’s smile widened. “It’s nothing you haven’t seen before, isn’t that right, old chum?”

You sat back and listened to the two of them negotiate. It was only pragmatic that Alastor do the talking. He knew Vox better than you did, and had a clear notion of the worth of things in Hell, whereas you were only vaguely aware of the currencies available. Your job, as you had discussed with Alastor, was to keep Vox distracted and off-balance.

As Alastor conjured the contract he had prepared from the air beside him, your hand went to your neck, loosening your cravat with a sigh. Your reward was Vox’s eyes on you instantly, hungry.

You ran your gaze up his body, from the slight tent in his pants to the bow tie at his collar, watching his larynx bob as he swallowed saliva. It helped that it wasn’t entirely one-sided; for all his flaws you knew that Vox was still a good lay, and the sight of him wasn’t an unwelcome one.

Alastor tapped the table with a single, impatient talon. “If you’re keen to begin, you can simply sign the contract as-written,” he said.

Fortunately for Vox, his erection hadn’t quite siphoned all of the blood from his brain. “Lemme read it first,” he growled, taking the papers into his hands.

As Alastor had predicted, Vox was skim-reading, checking for clauses that would forfeit his soul or his power, too off-balance and horny to do much more. There were no such clauses- Alastor considered it poor sport- but what the document did contain were a multitude of conditions that meant the voyeurism was exactly to Alastor’s specification. No recordings, for example. And no touching.

“I’m adding a requirement,” said Vox, turning to the last page.

“Oh?” Alastor’s smile was steady

“I get to see you cum.”

Alastor gave a hiss like water falling on a hot pan, his eyes turning black, and you felt like he was seconds away from ripping out Vox’s heart and feeding it to him.

“C’maan, this is a fair ask.” Vox raised his hands in protest. “If I’m paying for it, it can’t just be an act, yeah? I should get to see you lose yourself, for real.”

Alastor’s grin was fixed in place as he reached for the contract, eyes skimming Vox’s wording. “I suppose that is a fair expectation,” he said, a note of reluctance in his voice. “I’ll grant it.”

You sat on the bed, letting Alastor undress you as Vox watched from the overstuffed yellow armchair by the headboard. He was pretending nonchalance, but it was clear that this wasn’t something that was meant to last.

“Darling,” said Alastor, in a tone of voice tuned precisely to make you feel your own pulse through your body. “Tell me that you’re mine.”

You watched him as he undid the buttons on your shirt, steady and unhurried, and brushed the back of his hand with your fingertips, letting the touch linger. “I’m yours,” you said, not just for Alastor, but for Vox, who was listening.

Your reward was a kiss, sweet and soft as anything you’d shared in the privacy of your nights together. It was enough for you to close your eyes, leaning into him as his hot tongue stroked yours. You embraced him, forearms locking behind his head, your fingers in his hair.

Jealousy. Jealousy was the axis upon which everything turned, two demons seizing the whole of the world with their fists and screaming in indignation at the debris that squeezed out between their fingers. And you were caught in this hellish mechanism; between Vox, who saw you as Alastor’s pale shadow, and Alastor, who saw you as a part of himself, saw the comfort he sought from your body as merely a medium for self-pleasure.

Vox’s eyes on you were jealous; jealous of your proximity to Alastor, the way he spread you out under him, touching you through the material of your trousers, but also jealousy of Alastor, to have you under him so rapt, so pliant.

Alastor’s eyes on you were jealous; jealous of having to share you with anyone. He begrudged Vox even the sight of you, and so he greedily filled your vision with him and only him, prompting affirmation from your words as he removed your clothes, piece by piece.

“Tell me that you’re mine. My possession, my property. My thing.”

Not for the first time, you were naked under Alastor, your cock hard and weeping, precum beading and dribbling from the tip.

“I’m yours,” you repeated, voice catching in your throat as Alastor pressed his palm to your cock, curling fingers around your shaft. “All yours, Alastor.”

“Fuck,” Vox breathed, his voice down at the bottom of his register and laden with vocal fry.

“Nice try, old pal,” said Alastor, his eyes still firmly on you and undertones of arousal creeping into his voice. “But I believe our contract stipulates that you don’t get to make requests.”

Part of you had been surprised that Alastor had drafted the contract to allow Vox to speak at all, but you could see the way his cock hardened in his trousers as he shut Vox down. There was one thing that Alastor loved more than anything, and that was being in control of a situation.

“Now,” Alastor continued, his smile wide, and you were quite happy to let him continue, with his grip on your cock applying the perfect amount of pressure, a lazy slide up and down your shaft. “If you would like to renegotiate we can all put our clothes back on and sit down, and-”

“Oh, hell no-” Vox backtracked rapidly. “This is fuckin’ peachy, Al. Great. I swear.”

“I see.” Alastor smirked. He turned his attention back you you. “Would you like a tentacle in you, darling?”

Your eyes must have widened, because he added. “You seemed to enjoy it, last time.”

Vox cursed to himself as you nodded yes, and Alastor pushed your thighs apart, extending a tentacle from his back. You reached up, stroking Alastor’s thigh, then his cock, through the material of his trousers as he pushed his tentacle into you. His grip on your cock tightened fractionally as you stroked him, the tentacle making an obscene, wet noise as he fucked the first couple inches of it back and forth into your cunt. The motion was almost teasing, the tentacle playing at sensitive flesh rather than seeking further egress, and you whined at the sensation.

“Oh, fuck me that’s hot. I can’t believe you’re using those like that- you got any idea how many people I’ve seen him kill with those things?”

“I’m fairly sure he’s killed people with his hands too,” you murmured, and Alastor gave a bark of laughter, completely unrehearsed, his expression softening utterly for a fraction of a second into fondness before he resumed the grin he’d worn a second prior, tentacle squelching deeper into your cunt for good measure.

You whimpered at the stretch, stroking the shaft of his cock between the palm and heel of your hand, and Alastor rocked his hips, a low vacuum tube hum in his throat as he rutted into your touch, his hand around your cock falling into the same languid rhythm. You unfastened his fly, freeing his cock from the confines of his pants and took it into your hand. Alastor gave a pleased noise as you settled your grip, his skin almost hot to the touch.

“Holy shit.” Vox’s eyes were fixed on the two of you, practically hypnotized by the scene, his usually brash tone rendered almost reverent. His hand went to his own fly, and he gave a yelp as something forced him back into the chair.

“Ah ah ah,” Alastor looked up from you for a moment, his expression gleeful, the tentacle inside you stilling alongside his hand.

“Alastor, what the fuck.” Vox’s arms were pulled to the arms of the chair by luminous green chains, and he strained against them. It was the first time you’d seen the constraints of a deal hit someone like that, and it wasn’t at all what you had expected.

“The contract states that you can masturbate if given permission,” said Alastor, his grin almost gleeful. “I have not yet given permission.”

“What? You want me to fuckin’ beg?” Vox’s screen glitched.

“Oh Voxxy, you always were a quick study.” Alastor’s smile was broad, his cock in your hand hot and hard. “Yes. Please. Beg.”

“Oh, fuck.” Vox’s screen shimmered briefly pink, segments of pink remaining below his eyes. “Fuck me that’s fucking depraved.”

“Hm.” Alastor smiled to himself, his gaze going back to you. “That doesn’t sound much like begging to me.”

“C’maan, Alastor, don’t be like that.” Vox’s tone was wheedling. “Just let a guy touch himself, please.” He drew out the last please into three syllables, a whine.

“You can do better than that,” Alastor said.

“You’re breakin’ my balls here, Al. I need this.”

“You need this?”

“Al, please, I’m beggin’ ya.”

Alastor gave a pleased hum. “Better. Continue.”

“Please, please.” There was a proper edge of desperation to Vox’s voice now, his eyes fluttering closed. “This is all I can think of. I close my eyes and I see you going at it in the swamp, Al. I need it, please let me.”

“You need it.”

“Yes,” Vox hissed, his voice going a little high, a dark spot at the apex of the tent in his pants where his precum had soaked through the fabric.

“You’re a depraved little creature.”

“Al, please-”

“Say it.”

“I’m the one who’s depraved.”

“You’re the one who needs to come into a gentleman’s bedroom and watch.”

Vox flashed teeth. “Oh, fuck you!”

“I don’t believe that was on the table,” said Alastor, his smile cruel, and you felt his cock swell fractionally in your hand.

It was fascinating, watching Vox’s erection duel with his self-respect. You watched with Alastor as the man swallowed the final scrap of his pride, voice cracking a little as his spoke. “Please, Al. I’m the sick, pathetic fuck who needs to come into your bedroom and watch you. I’m so hard right now and it hurts, just let me touch myself. Please. I’m begging.”

“Oh, Vox. You can’t even cage a freshly minted replica of me. A failure as a jailer and a lover.” Alastor’s thumb went to your jaw, slowly tracing a line over your skin up to your temple. “So, I suppose I should show pity.”

“Please, Alastor-” Vox whimpered, and Alastor slowly inclined his head. Vox gasped as the condition lifted, and he hurried to free his own cock. “Fu-uck.”

You felt a twinge of desire as you saw it, remembering how tenderly and skillfully he had brought you to orgasm, and Alastor must have felt it around the tentacle inside you, because he looked at you sharply, eyes dark.

“Eyes on me now, darling,” said Alastor, a claw on your cheek giving you little other choice. “We don’t want our guest getting self-conscious, now.”

As if he hadn’t gotten halfway to his own end just by making Vox beg. The hypocrite. Still, the possessiveness was a turn-on. You smiled up at Alastor, giving his cock a deliberate, slow, squeeze. “I’m yours, remember.”

Alastor narrowed his eyes, mollified. “I should hope so,” he said, mirroring your gesture with the cruel addition of a curl of the tentacle inside you, pressing spongy flesh that drew a cry from your lips.

He leaned forward, supporting his weight on a second tentacle as he drew you in for a kiss. Where his kisses were usually considered and leading, this was fervent and messy, leaving you gasping for air when it broke, lips burning. He pushed your hand from his cock and brought your hips in line with his, shifting his grip so that your cock pressed against his, his long fingers wrapping around both.

“Alastor-” you managed to whimper, and he smiled.

You held on for dear life as Alastor did his damnedest to wreck you. His mouth covered yours, teeth and tongue and the taste of hot blood, rendering you breathless and voiceless save for the cries you made into his mouth. His cock was pressed firmly against yours, hot and hard and heavy, both of them wrapped in the steady curl of his fingers and palm. His tentacle was inside your cunt, deep enough for you to feel the stretch, hitting each sweet spot inside you hard enough to draw helpless, animal cries from your throat. His antlers were close to yours but not enmeshed, enough that you felt their static hum. You stroked Alastor’s shoulders, his back and down to his hips, doing your best to clutch at him without ruining his clothes, each roll of his hips threatening to make you curl your fingers and claw him.

“Fuck,” hissed Vox, his jerking off matching Alastor’s frantic rhythm, but Alastor was too preoccupied with your mouth to scold him. If Vox hadn’t spoken you might have forgotten he existed, the sensation of Alastor’s cock pressed hard against yours bright as fire in your brain, his bullying tentacle pushing you fast towards your precipice.

Alastor must have been less lost in the moment than he seemed, because he pulled the tentacle out of you just as you were nearing your end, leaving you gasping, cunt twitching, and deftly angled himself in just in time to feel you pulse around his cock. Your cum splattered your own stomach and chest, some on Alastor’s shirt, judging by the wet patches that had formed over his chest, and he smiled down at you, something like pride in his red eyes as he held your hips, keeping himself firmly inside you as you came.

“Fuck man, what a mess,” groaned Vox, voice tinged with admiration.

Alastor hummed in agreement, his eyes narrowing as he felt the aftershocks of your orgasm.

“I can’t say I think much better of your state right now though, old chum,” he said, his tone conversational. “You’re getting pretty sloppy yourself.”

Vox groaned again, and you realized that you could hear the rhythmic noise of his fist wrapped around his cock. “Al,” he whined.

Alastor just laughed to himself, and hooked your knees over his shoulders, his cock still firmly in your cunt. “Shall we begin?” he asked, and to his credit, he did wait for a nod from you before he did.

Though his cock was less impressive than the tentacle, with your legs on his shoulders and a slight forward tilt, he was able to reach all of the sweet spots the tentacle had. Your throat hurt from crying out, and your spent cock lolled untended below your navel, but the feeling of having your guts rearranged was still exquisite. Your cum pooled in the hollows of your collarbones as Alastor fucked you, your cunt still oversensitive, your cock not even soft yet, bouncing with each stroke, in time with the noises you made as the motion forced air from your lungs.

You were dully aware of Vox’s orgasm; his movement ceasing with a low moan, and Alastor’s smirk as he watched his rival coming undone.

“What’s this? Can’t stick it out til the end?” Alastor’s grin was fierce, his own breathing growing unsteady as his motion ripped another cry from your throat, his red shirt darkening with sweat.

“Fuck you,” Vox choked out.

Alastor grinned wide, teeth gleaming. “Never going to happen,” he taunted, and you felt the telltale twitch of his cock inside you as he closed on his own orgasm.

He grasped you more tightly as he chased it, intent on your voice and your eyes, bending you double a little more, a little more, until at last your thighs were pressed flush with your chest, and he kissed your lips, softly, as he hit that final sweetness. His cock pulsed inside you, once, with a wave of heat, before he pulled out, a second arc of cum hitting you neatly across the chest, then a third, then a fourth which landed in a hot line on your stomach.

“That- should fulfill everything,” said Alastor, sitting back heavily and tucking himself back into his pants. “You can go now.”

“What?” Vox blinked. He looked like you felt; stunned.

“The sex is over. The curtain has fallen. The show, concluded.” Alastor gave him a little wave. “Don’t let the door hit you on the way out.”

“Shit.” Vox sucked in air through his teeth. “You’re a real asshole sometimes, you know that Al?”

“And you’re a voyeur who inserts himself into people’s private lives,” said Alastor, with a thin smile. “Each of us has his burden to bear.”

Vox left with a stream of curses, slamming the door behind him, and Alastor lay down on his back on the bed, his smile a small, tight expression.

The wet spots forming on the front of Alastor’s shirt weren’t from sweat or cum, but blood.

“You’ve split your stitches,” you said, feeling a wave of guilt for not noticing sooner. Of course his pace had been more frenetic than usual; he’d been racing to push Vox out the door before Vox noticed.

Alastor looked as if he might deny everything, but closed his eyes instead, his smile tense. “If you could fetch me the surgeon’s kit?” he asked.

You picked up one of the towels left beside the bed for the purpose and gave yourself a cursory wipe down before stalking naked, first to the en suite to wash your hands with soap, then to the shelf where the tools were kept.

“You didn’t need to strain yourself like that,” you said, placing the wooden box down on the bed beside him and unclipping the clasps.

“Oh?” Alastor stared listlessly at the canopy above the bed. “What was my alternative?”

You retrieved the disinfectant, cotton, thread, needle and scissors, the same tools Alastor had used to stitch your arm, alongside a roll of bandages. “You could let me top.”

“In front of Vox?” Alastor gave a mirthful exhalation. “I would rather not let you deflower me in front of him, thank you.”

Deflower? Well, you couldn’t see him putting himself in the position of a submissive partner, at least not willingly. “But in general you have no objection?”

Alastor’s face colored, his gaze leaving yours. “Maybe,” he said. “Another night.”

For the first time, you unbuttoned Alastor’s shirt rather than the reverse. For someone who had seen you naked so many times, Alastor was surprisingly bashful, his gaze not meeting yours as you peeled away the bloody red fabric to reveal the soaked bandages beneath. You were struck with the desire to touch him, to run your palm over the soft concave lines of his belly, but you suspected that such a touch would be met with a blast of distressed audio, so instead you picked up the scissors, and set to work cutting the bandages away.

Alastor had never looked as small or as vulnerable as he did beneath you, his bloodied bandages peeled back. There was an ugly wound across his narrow chest, from his collar to his stomach and deepest over his sternum, the flesh either side livid and pink. He’d sewn it closed himself; you could tell by the way the stitches grew uneven as they grew closer to his dominant arm, and several of those nearest the center had ripped, the flesh on the side of the wound tearing where the thread had pulled it closed. Blood dribbled from the injury as Alastor’s chest rose and fell. If you hadn’t known that Alastor had been bearing the injury for as long as you’d known him, you would have guessed it had been made yesterday.

“I didn’t ask you to help with this,” he said, a worried edge to his smile, his ears lowering.

But, he did want your help, was the unspoken implication. “It’ll be easier for me to reach,” you pushed, more to preserve his pride than anything else. “It’s a pain to sew yourself up, after all.”

“Speaking from experience, I take it?” Alastor’s ears perked up a little, his eyes meeting yours.

You told him a story as you cleaned and stitched his wound, about how the hospitals in your old city always treated these sort of injuries with such suspicion, reporting them to the police. About how hospitals were overpriced and overrated anyway, and how anything that couldn’t be fixed at home with the correct tools probably wasn’t worth worrying about anyway. You kept talking, more to distract Alastor from the pain than anything else, and he watched you work with half-lidded eyes and parted lips.

“You’re good at this,” he said, as he watched you pin his bandages into place, fresh and bright white against his skin, and you felt the compliment bring heat to your cheeks.

“I’ll get you a fresh shirt,” you said, turning to go, but Alastor caught hold of you, drawing you to him. You felt the warmth of his bandaged chest against your back as he draped himself over you, the warmth of his bare arms around you.

Alastor breathed out heavily, a shaky sort of breath, his lips in your hair. “You will do no such thing,” he said, a tremor in his voice. “You will hold me. You will lie here and you will hold me.”

It was a silly demand, but you could do nothing save obey it. Not because a chain of obligation compelled you, but rather that your heart would not allow it to be otherwise.

[bandaidfingers]

🦇🩷SHIVER OF THE VAMPIRES (1971)🩷🦇 or Le Frisson des Vampires

One of two movies on my list from French director Jean Rollin. A personal favorite movie of mine, not just among vampire movies, but in general. This is one that I rewatch frequently and think everyone should watch. A newlywed couple, Isle and Antoine, stop at the chateau of Isle’s cousins while on the way to their honeymoon. The cousins, once vampire hunters, have since been turned into vampires by their nemesis, the vampiress Isolde (whom I drew in her most iconic look). After being visited in her bedroom by Isolde the first night of their stay Isle becomes infatuated with Isolde, drifting apart from her new husband and ultimately choosing vampirism over him.

This movie is incredibly fun and groovy with bright, colorful visuals, incredible costumes, and a soundtrack that is predominately electric guitar. I think this movie has a lot of interesting things to say about the nature of good vs evil, about sex vs love, and about class among other themes. But if you don’t care about any of that it’s also just a really fun time lol.

fifth drawing in my lesbian vampire illustration series :)

and you can buy the original drawing HERE :)

[17panicattacksinatrenchcoat]

max's writing tips 14: avoiding burnout

burnout is my sworn nemesis

I've covered a few of these in mental health post but I wanted to go more in depth

remember, writing advice isn't one size fits all!! use what works best for you💜

Take breaks when you need them. Taking care of yourself does not make you "lazy" or a worse writer. This is probably my most important point. Just try to be kind to yourself.

Make sure that your life outside of writing is fulfilling you enough. In my experience I find it difficult to write when I don't have things going on in my life because I end up drawing off the same things over and over and I exhaust my creativity. (I view my ability to write as something that needs to be cultivated; I need to experience things and go places to feed into it. Consuming media (reading, or watching movies/video essays) is also important to me, as it exposes me to new ideas.

I also recommend having creative hobbies outside of writing that you can do while you're taking breaks to keep your brain active. Ex: During breaks, I focus on painting and drawing, playing an instrument (guitar), and learning a language (German). These hobbies don't have pressure behind them and they help me recover.

Recognize that it's okay to write slowly or sporadically. You are still moving forward.

[sasstastikarts]

Moon and Mars?

Holy- ay I got one! (spends too much time on sketches)

moon: do you play any instruments?

Multiple! Am I good? Naw.

My current is guitar. Bar chords are my nemesis. (ignore my inability to draw guitars -_-)

mars: do you believe in life on other planets?

Naw. Fun idea to explore though.

Celestial Asks

[caes-funnyarc]

oc ask game answers!! (please let me know who posted these originally, as i can't find it ! i will edit and add credit :3)

tw for parental issues / abuse in later questions

- How did you come up with the OC’s name?

🌸Dominic Dotty was inspired because I wanted Dotty to be his name at some point (as he’s covered in freckles) but I eventually figured that it would work better as a last name. I wanted some alliteration, so then I introduced the first name “Dominic” as I think it’s rather silly :]

- How old are they? (Or approximate age range)

🌸He’s about 19 ! He’s one of the youngest on the show, according to my headcanons. :]

- Do they have any love interest(s)?

🌸*cough* shop *cough* keeper *cough cough cough*

 - What is their favorite food?

🌸Rocks. :] Shiny ones.

- What do they do for a living?

🌸Dominic runs a local library! He does it for jokes and favors, similar to Howdy.

- Do they have any hobbies?

🌸He plays a few instruments (cello, piano, electric and bass guitar) and enjoys gardening !

-What do they do best?

🌸Play cello! He’s rather good at it.

-What do they love to do? What do they hate to do?

🌸Dominic loves to talk to people he’s comfortable with. He also hates meeting new people who are overly personal with him from the get go! He has issues with certain textures and loud noises, especially piercing ones. Noises that come from scratchy or dry sources especially irritate him.

- What is one of your OC’s best memories?

🌸One of his best memories is when his adoptive father taught him to garden. It’s been a passion for a long time because of it.

- What is one of your OC’s worst memories?

(tw for abuse)

🌸Dominic’s birth parents were the first people to teach him the phrase “Blood is thicker than water.” They were mentally abusive to the point where he no longer felt comfortable being around them. Eventually, when he was six years old, his parents dropped him off in the woods to fend for himself. He was eventually found in critical condition by a hiker and his wife. 

- Is their current design the first one?

🌸Yes and no. His original design had certain patches, but they change per episode. This isn’t exactly super different, but it still pertains to the question.

- What originally inspired the OC?

🌸I wanted a way to channel some feelings I was having, and I also have a Welcome Home hyperfix. You’re welcome. /j

- What genre do they belong in?

🌸In media, video games (like a bad spinoff that has side characters and he’s just a funny joke) and TV (because WH was a show for television lol). In actual literary genre, usually psychological horror, though he has been in comedic pieces too.

- What is your OC’s gender identity and sexuality?

🌸Dominic is FTM trans, demiromantic, and pansexual! 

- How many sibling does your OC have?

🌸 He isn’t sure ! He’s the only child his adopted parents have, and he hasn’t spoken to his biological parents since the incident.

- What is the OC’s relationship w/their parents like?

🌸He loves his adoptive parents to death, and so their relationship is incredible. And of course, his relationship with his biological parents is not good at all.

- What do you like most about the OC?

🌸I love that he gave me an opportunity to channel some hurtful emotions into a character that can heal through my hyperfix. I’m also excited because he’s my first ever arospec character!

- How often do you draw/write about the OC?

🌸I doodle him rather often. Little silly <3

- Do you ever see yourself killing off the OC?

🌸Only in an AU angst. My little baby man :[[

- Does your OC have any phobias?

🌸He’s terribly afraid of the dark and being alone in the woods. I’ll give you three guesses as to why. (He’s also weirdly afraid of boomboxes. What’s his deal?)

-Who is your OC’s arch-nemesis or rival?

🌸 The man in the mirror that he sees. He looks just like him, but broader and taller. He looks like a memory. (Three guesses as to who that is, too.)

- How long have you had the OC?

🌸A couple months !! He’s relatively new, but I’m rather fond of him.

again, if anyone knows who originally posted these questions, tag them in replies so that i can edit and tag them as well !! <33

[ih8falloutboy]

INTRO POST ! ★

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. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

windchime / the chimester here :3

intro post in case people start to interact with my art perchance (or just want to say hi) !

★

here's some of my interests :

★ music, guitars, ★ sea creatures, drawing, playing music (guitar&bass), ★ metal / (norwegian) black metal, kandi making, alt fashion, queer culture, psychology, religion, politics

here's some of my favorite bands :

★ fall out boy, ★ mayhem, ★ deftones, pierce the veil, pantera, dystopia, enslaved, lifelover, ★ black dresses (anything devi or rook), femtanyl (thanks 2 boyf), tv girl, horse jumper of love, early p!atd, ★ big theif, pretty sick, slayer, decalius, rammstein, in loving memory, alesana, cobra starship, ★ show me god, apex nemesis, i don't kornform, local metal bands, etc.

here's some fandoms i'm in :

★ marble hornets, ★ everyman hybrid, ★ night in the woods, laika's comet, project sekai (BARELY), my little pony, creepypasta, eerie crests, five nights at freddys

blocklist, probably :

basic criteria, anti-neopronouns or xenogenders, pro-isr3al, far right conservatives (doubt there's any on here), proship, ed blogs, sh blogs, pro cop, more probably

★

that being said i'm a pretty cool guy who plays gtar in a band & i have a sick tech nerd bf ! please reach out if you like the stuff i do & check out my art :3 comms open soon, hopefully

★

[sec-heriablangel]

Hellaverse OC: Alina

Full Name: Alina Damon

Nickname: Sister, Sis, Star Sister (By Terrence), Spoiled Brat, Little sh*t, Little piece of sh*t, Girl, Daughter, Weak Princess (By Abaddon), Princess (By Damien, Isaac, Seviathan, Arackniss, Alastor, and others), Sweet Doll (By Alastor, Damien, Blitzo and Cain), Doll (By Vox, Alastor, Valentino, Cain, Damien, Seviathan, and others), Dear Girl (By Vox and Valentino), Bestie (By Charlie and Angel Dust), Sweet Daughter (By Diana), Loser (By Helsa), Kid, Child (By Abaddon, Belial, Blitzo, Satan, Lucifer and Azazel)

Likes: her family (Expect for Eisheth and Abaddon), Emo Fashion, Goth Fashion, Grunge Fashion, Watching Anime, Reading Mangas, Drinking Mountain Dew, Coca Cola, Sprite and 7Up, Cleaning mess, Cooking, Playing video games, Writing Poems and stories, Drawing, Painting, Singing, Swimming, Dressing up, Playing her cyan electric guitar, Her biological mother's kindness and love, listening to Meg and Dia, P!nk, Evanescence, Three Days Grace, The Used, Breaking Benjamin, Panic! At the Disco, My Chemical Romance, Fall Out Boy, Linkin Park, The Pretty Reckless, Playing with her pet Spiky, Comforting Angel Dust, Protecting her twin-brother

Dislikes: Her father's abuse, Her step-mother's temper and cruelty, Being talked down to, Being ignored, Being disrespected, Being underestimated, Being mistreated, Being yelled at, Being denied love, Being denied comfort, Being denied her, Valentino's abuse on Angel Dust, Anyone hurts her twin-brother, Being called a Loser, Being called a Doll, Being called a weakling, Being called a brat, Being called a piece of sh*t, Helsa Von Eldritch, Her twin-brother being in danger, Killing her pet, Ginger Cat

Species: Demon/ArchDemon

Gender: Female

Age: 23 (Biological) (Same as Terrence)

Sexuality: Bisexual

Status: Alive

Abilities: Hydrokinesis, Water Manipulation, Pyrokenesis, Demonic Wings, Demonic transformation, Flight, Shapeshifting, Demon Magic, Portal creation, Teleportation, Telekinesis, Enhanced strength, speed and agility, Guitar-playing, Songwriting, Drawing, Musical Talent, Mind Reading, Earthly fire resistance, Weapon creation and mastery, Elemental Shields, Cooking, Shapeshifting horns, Shapeshifting horns and tail, Shapeshifting tail, Resurrection, Regeneration, Reanimation, Necromancy, Hellish Resistance, Healing, Time Manipulation

Occupation: Mere Receptionist of Hazbin Hotel, Guitarist, Student (Formerly), Artist, Writer

Family: Abaddon Damon (Disowned Father), Diana (Biological Mother), Eisheth (Step-Mother; Deceased), Terrence Damon (Twin-brother)

Friends: Charlie (Her boss and Bestie), Angel Dust (Her Bestie), Vaggie (Her bestie), Sir Pentious, Husk, Niffty, Damien (Childhood Friend), Lucius, Clive, Kassandra, Arackniss, Crymini, Baxter, Cherri Bomb, Finley (Close Friend), Paulina (Childhood Friend), Roxie (Childhood Friend), Amie (Childhood Friend), Mora (Childhood Friend), Seviathan (Childhood Friend), Millie, Moxxie, Blitzo, Loona, Fizzarolli (Her idol), Royce Costello (Boyfriend), Fierna (Childhood Friend; Formerly Schoolmate)

Enemies: Abaddon (Arch-Nemesis), Eisheth, Elena (sometimes), Mammon, Leviathan, Baal/Bael, Vox, Valentino, Velvette (Sworn Enemy), Lute, Adam, Striker, Crimson, Crimson's Mafia, Employees of D.H.O.R.K.S, Exorcists, Christopher, Employees of C.H.E.R.U.B.S, Lucifer (Sometimes), Cain, Ryan, Azazel (Arch-Nemesis), Azathoth, Satan (Sometimes), Helsa Von Eldritch (Worst Enemy), Chelsea (Sworn Enemy)

Romantic Interest: Royce Costello (Boyfriend), Chelsea (Ex-Girlfriend; Ex-Fiancée)

Others: The von Eldritch family (acquaintance), Razzle and Dazzle (acquainted), Hellhound (acquainted), Deadly Sins (Mammon, Asmodeus, Beelzebub, Leviathan, Satan and Belphegor), Overlords (acquainted), Belial (acquainted), Molly (acquainted), Baelzra (acquainted), Astaroth (acquainted), Sallie May (acquainted), the Ars Goetia (acquaintance), Morningstar Family (acquaintance), Hell's Royalty (acquaintance), Vortex (Good Friend), Layla (acquainted), Anya (acquainted), Emily (acquainted), Sera (acquainted), Archangels (acquainted), Glasya (acquainted), Spiky (Pet), unnamed Ginger Cat (Pet; Deceased), Celine (acquainted)

Weapons: AK-47, AK-15, Claws, Fangs, Pistol Gun, Shotgun, Axe, Sword, Dagger, Brass Knuckles, Mini Gun, Chainsaw, Boomerang, Knuckle Duster, and a Pocket knife

Voiced by: Cassandra Lee Morris (speaking), Elsie Lovelock (singing)

[alzaryn]

My Marvel Next Generation OC: Aiden O'Neal Stacy

Name: Aiden O'Neal Stacy

Alias: Stryker

Age: (completely dependent) 15- 22

Gender: Male

Sexuality: Heterosexual

Species: Human Mutate

Costume: Varies between his symbiote and regular suit

Appearance: Aiden has short blonde hair with red highlights. Green eyes and pale skin. He often wears a white and blue hoodie with jeans and white sneakers.

His normal suit, which he really never gets often in the times I have roleplayed him consist of a padded armor suit with a large spider on his chest. The pads themselves consist of a blue color. The suit takes inspiration from his mother's suit, alongside with the hood that goes over his head. The mask lenses consist of a light blue color.

His symbiote suit, the one that is constantly used looks a lot like his mother's Ghost-Spider's symbiote suit with a unique design and flair to it.

As you can see, he bears a strong, striking resemblance to Ghost-Spider's Symbiote suit. The suit consists of a black and white coloration, the organic lenses being of a blue color as well as the back spider.

Powers/Skills: Superhuman Strength, Reflexes, High Durability, Spider-Sense, Adhesion, Organic Webbing, Fast Healing Factor, High Voltage Bioelectricity, Adept Unarmed Combatant. Electrical Resistance.

Symbiote Abilities: Electrical Enhancments, Shapeshifting, Enhancers.

Fighting Style: Aiden Fights more on the ground with aggression. Using grappling moves and brutal strikes to take his opponents down.

Hobbies: Playing the Guitar, drawing

Mother: Gwendolyne Maxine Stacy

Father: Peter Benjamin Parker

Personality traits: Shy, keeps to himself and tries to stay away from people. When he warms up to someone he can be very outgoing. He has a very short fuse, causing him to become hyperaggressive.

Backstory:

Aiden was born to Peter Parker and Gwen Stacy. On the day he was born, his father died in a brutal battle with a symbiote named Nemesis. His mother was a rising in fame musician in a band known as the Emm Jays. As a result, his life would be around the fame his mother and the band had obtained. When he was four-years-old, his mother brought him to a concert that the Emm Jays were putting together. For the first time, he was subjected to the crowd of people that his mother played to. Safe to say he didn't like the constant attention whatsoever.

During the concert, the symbiote that killed his father attacked once more. Nemesis attacked and Gwen brought Aiden to a safe room, then left to go deal with the threat, especially for the sake of her child. During the fight, Aiden slipped out of the room and went to go find his mother despite what she told him. That's when he came into contact with the symbiote Nemesis. Whom grabbed him, causing a massive gash on the back of the child. Ghost-Spider came right after to save her child from further harm. On that day, Aiden gained an immense but rightful fear of any symbiote.

Years down the road, in High School. Aiden's class took a trip to the place known as Artemis Labs. A newish company that was formed from former workers of Oscorp. When he was looking at the enhanced arachnids that they developed. One of them having an electrical output. The spider was also highly aggressive, after all it was supposed to be an improved offshoot of the spiders that created Ghost-Spider and Spider-Man.

Later on the field trip, the spider had escaped it's containment, something that went unnoticed by the workers within. Suddenly, the power cut out for minute. Aiden, being the nearest to the wall didn't notice the electrical spider climbing on him and was shocked for a second when it bit him with the voltage of a taser. After the spider skittered off, his mother was informed of the accident at Artemis labs. They told her that he was subjected to a brief power surge of electricity and was told he would make a full recovery. The bite mark the spider inflicted upon Aiden looked like a shock wound, and the mark wouldn't clear up until the morning.

When Aiden got home, he immediately went to bed, after all he felt sickened from the spider's bite and was feeling a bit twitchy at the same time.

When he awoke, he would discover he no longer felt sickly whatsoever. He felt way more energetic than he's ever been. The burn mark from the spider's bite had cleared up and he could see that he wasn't shocked but instead, bitten by something.

During the school day, during gym would be the first he would discover of his new spider-like abilities. He broke the hoop with the ball itself, shocking everyone in the gym including himself. Something he never been able to do until the spider bite which of course, caused him to investigate. Of course after being chewed out by his mother.

As he tested things, he discovered he could use organic webbing, climb up any surface. His acrobatics had also increased immensely.

He kept this secret from his mother, not knowing she herself had powers as well. Something that she would find out later on.

Anyways, That's it. Here's my OC. Hope you enjoyed my character Aiden :D

[doomedandstoned]

Swedish Stoner-Doom Trio OCKRA Air Melancholy Full-Length ‘Gratitude’

~Doomed & Stoned Debuts~

By Billy Goate

Artwork by Arjen Kunnen

Progressive doom meets dark rock and folk on the new album 'Gratitude' (2023) by Gothenburg's OCKRA. It would, of course, be tedious (if not impossible) to trace back the various strands of influence on the songs before us. As I stated in my review of their EP, 'Infinite Patterns' (2020):

It’s a bit tricky to draw a direct comparison between OCKRA and other acts. After all, it’s not often we hear a band attempt blending progressive rock with doom metal!

The name Ockra is not, as I briefly assumed, a reference to "okra" (that dreaded nemesis of my childhood, along with brussel sprouts), but rather "ocher" in the Swedish tongue. Ocher, that is, the color and substance of earth. Thus it is no surprise to find that Ockra's songs deal with earthly matters of the here-and-now, leading off with the track "Introspection," which preludes such songs as "Acceptance," "Tage Wie Dieser" ("Days Like This"), and "Tree I Planted." This is music that's meant to be intensely relatable.

"Weightless Again" starts as a straight-up garage rocker that features robust drumming from Jonas Nyström, bouncing about joyfully amidst stirring vocal harmonies and traditional doom riffage. The piece slows up and gets misty, with an aura of sadness at about three-minutes. I praised Cruthu for capturing a similar spirit on 'The Angle of Eternity' (2017), which takes a folk-like approach to writing doom. As the song crescendos, confidence rises, and we return to the peppiness of the beginning, but the atmosphere is still bittersweet, and the chorus remains psychologically piercing. The vibe is "things will get better, just keep hanging on" -- or, to quote the song, you'll be weightless again.

"Tree I Planted" is singer-songwriter fare that hints at the old country and western tradition. If you like the songs that Alice in Chains singer Jerry Cantrell writes, this one is a cinch. Alex Spielhaupter's vocals are earnest, with a serious metallic edge, and get bluesy at times, backed by guest vocalist Stefanie Spielhaupter.

Fourth track "Acceptance" is bound to find its way onto a "Metal Classics" playlist one of these days. From the opening riff on, guitarist Erik Björnlinger had me hooked. The vocals are dark like Pentagram, moody like Goodeye, producing a bonafide earworm of a chorus. The song is thoughtfully structured, took, with a bridge of overlapping voices that brings The Byrds to mind.

The folk influence really shines through on the next track, "We, Who Didn't Know." What might have found life as a two-minute interlude, gets fleshed out into a full-fledged seven-minute song. After a soft vocal introduction (which references "Weightless Again"), the balance shifts to a largely instrumental portion. The whole feel for me was one of daisy-lit hills, until the band goes full metallic at the four-minute mark. Again, Ockra goes for grand, with a crescendo and a full-on rush of soundwaves launching an impassioned chorus, finishing with the solitary note of the guitar.

"Imorgon Här" ("Tomorrow Here") follows, and while the title is in Swedish, the lyrics are still in English. The song is has got an upbeat, bluesy tempo (not unlike Graveyard), but the strength of Ockra's harmonic singing distinguishes them here in a way that is simply magical.

"Tage Wie Dieser" ("Days Like This") is sung entirely in Swedish. Personally, I love when bands include a song or two in their native tongue. If you approach vocals as just another instrument in the band (rather than someone telling you how to think or feel about the song), you may find you appreciate the experience all the more. Here the vocal harmonies are consoling and heavenly.

Suffice it to say, there were things that grabbed me upon first listen (namely "Acceptance"), but the second spin turned out to be even more meaningful, probably because the material was more familiar and I could lean into the songs more comfortably.

Look for Ockra's Gratitude on Friday, May 26th, releasing digitally and on compact disc on Argonauta Records (pre-order here). Stick it on a playlist with Young Hunter, Dunbarrow, and Asteroid.

Give ear...

LISTEN: Ockra - 'Gratitude' (2023)

SOME BUZZ

The band OCKRA arose in early 2018 in Gothenburg from what was left of the stoner doom band Sulphur Dreams. With a strong desire to stretch musical barriers away from what is known as classic stoner or doom metal, the trio around Jonas Nyström, Erik Björnlinger and Alex Spielhaupter set out to develop their songwriting skills and find their own style under the new name OCKRA. The band has a wide range of influences from metal to folk, americana and jazz.

The first EP with four songs was self-recorded in a 'DIY' spirit at the home studio in Onsala during spring/summer 2019 (with guest singer Ammy from EPA/Lastkaj14) and was released in March 2020 via Argonauta Records a week before the first lockdown put everything on hold.

The songs were well received by the media and the reviews in online and print magazines turned out very positive. As an example, the EP got 12 out 15 points in Germany's largest print magazine for extreme metal "Legacy."

Gratitude by OCKRA

 Infinite Patterns by OCKRA

During the summer of 2021, the trio went out to the little village Hesedorf near Hamburg to record their debut album 'Gratitude' together with Peter Voigtmann (The Ocean Collective, Heads.) at his studio "Die Mühle" (the mill).

The calm environment and the nature around made it possible to go into a state of creative isolation. That may have had an impact on the music, which now has more elements of singer-songwriter and folk music.

The lyrics have been written in the shade of the pandemic and severe illnesses amongst close friends and family members in this period. Writing these very personal lyrics has been some kind of therapeutic and despite the severeness of the topics they are meant to provide a glimpse of hope.

Follow The Band

Get Their Music

[fishybehavior]

It's never been easier to draw jay!

[bornspellcaster]

//I’d love to see, if he is his father, for Belos to actually care about GG. I’m over the “they’re the villain so they’re naturally abusing the kid” trope and we already have one set of monstrous parents.

Now not to say that Belos is a good father. No matter how it’s sugar coated, GG is a child soldier. And he’s one that has a torn ear and maybe more scarring, so even if Belos isn’t directly harming him himself, the system he’s a part of is. He’s still being subject to situations that are.

But this is also a kid that gets special treatment, according to Lilith, and if Dana’s drawings of him are meant to explain the dynamics of canon, it’s very evident that he does (even if he’s still overworked). He’s laying in bed watching cartoons on the equivalent of a tv, with snacks by his bed. And in another he’s playing guitar with an amp…😂 Again, I don’t think these drawings are like canon, but I do think they explain the dynamics, and the extent that he’s allowed to get away with.

Evil can love, and it doesn’t make them any less evil. It just adds dimension to their character and makes them more interesting. I’d love to see an “I’m horrible and irredeemable but I love my boy even though I’m not doing what’s best for him”, rather than a “ragh I’m so evil and dark I love no one” villain for once.

He liked Luz’s fiery spirit and she’s his nemesis so you can’t tell me he doesn’t hold some level of affection for this kid. This kid that stands beside him all the time and has the exact same staff.

[bellatrixobsessed1]

Mandatory High School AU That No One (Except Daniela Dimitrescu) Asked For (Part 1)

Summary: Donna has a crush on the beautiful, strong, and tall Chris Redfield but she is just your average (somewhat clumsy) teenage girl. How can she possibly be any match for the gorgeous Miranda? Luckily she has friends like Alcina, Karl, and Salvatore to help her achieve her dreams!

“You’re too old for these.” Miranda chuckles.

Donna grits her teeth and reaches for Angie.

“Aww, give it back, Miranda. You know that she has no other friends!” Claire chuckles.

Her lower lip quivers. Why did Miranda have to take Angie? Any of her other dolls would have been tolerable but not Angie. She reaches out again and mumbles, “give her back.” It is about as useless as telling Karl to put out his joint and actually attend classes for once. She knows that he would rather smoke his days away listening to Metallica and Mötley Crüe in the boys bathroom.

She remembers him mentioning, ‘Smoking in the Boys Room’. She very vividly recalls a night when they had sat upon the soccer field. It was a summer afternoon, the summer before her freshman year. She remembers Alcina smiling as she tossed a frisbee to Moreau. He hadn’t been paying attention though so it hit him in the face. Back in those days, it didn’t matter though, nobody laughed at you for falling over or being clumsy--a problem Donna has frequently; she is very clumsy and, of course, very average looking. Just an ordinary girl. She remembers that on that very warm and unforgettable--really it was as plain as she--summer afternoon that Karl had looked off into the sunset, “it’s like this song was made for Smoking in the Boys Room.”  A warm breeze stirred his hair.

She had nodded in agreement and she too looked off into the sunset. Those were simpler times. Much simpler.

Perhaps if she weren’t so presently distressed she might have wondered why the sun was setting in the afternoon. But she is no scientist. She is just Donna, plain, boring Donna. With her unremarkable face. Maybe Chris would notice her if she looked more like Miranda with her flawless skin and her perfect tan and a perfect mane of blonde hair that fanned out like blonde hair shimmering under the sun.

“Hey, what do you think your brother will think of Angie?” Miranda quirks a brow. She gives her perfectly styled bangs a flick. She lazily tosses Angie to Claire without looking in her direction. Claire fumbles, just barely clutching onto Angie’s dress and Donna’s heart skips a beat.

Claire pinches Angie’s little hands between her pointers and thumbs. “I don’t know but I think it’s creepy. Chris isn’t into weirdo goth chicks.”

“I’m not…”

“You’re right, he so totally isn’t.”

Donna sighs, she hopes Chris doesn’t think that she is a weirdo, she has only been crushing on him since the third grade and that was when he was still shoving crayons up people’s noses with Ethan. She remembers when he was nice but then he got hot and joined the football team and everything changed. Suddenly he no longer wanted to eat glue with Moreau. Now everything is football, football, and sneaking into college parties so he could talk to Jill Valentine.

“College girls, ya know?” He says to his friends. “One time I dated a college girl, she said she was studying beer pong. That’s what I’m going to major in.”

Donna is a little more ambitious, she would like to double major in art design and theater and minor in geology.

“Seriously, give Angie back.” She whimpers.

Miranda throws her head back and laughs, “not a chance…~loooser~!”

Donna feels her heart breaking, she doesn’t know what she will do without Angie.

“This thing is ratty junk.” Claire declaires.

“Angie is not junk!” Donna gets to her feet. She thinks that this is the first time that she has ever spoken up for herself. But it doesn’t last, her spunk dies away as soon as Miranda takes a step forward.

“If she’s not junk then…” Mirinda quirks a brow and hovers Angie over the garbage can. “Why is she in the trash?”

Donna gulps. Just when she thinks that Angie is done for, the garbage can collides with Miranda. Donna catches Angie before she can meet the floor. The same cannot be said for Miranda who is well on her way to the very other end of the hallway.

“Alcina!” Donna perks up.

The woman stands boldly, with her hands on her hips, within the rays of sunlight streaming through the window. She extends her long arm and Donna takes her hand. Her skin glitters in the light of the sun. Donna’s eyes light up, Alcina is glittering all over. “You’re sparkling.” Donna comments. Of course it is only natural for a vampire to gleam.

Alcina rubs the back of her head, “yeah...art class.”

“Oh.”

“What do you mean oh?”

“I just thought...never mind.” She isn’t sure why she thought that vampires sparkled. “Thanks for saving Angie.”

Alcina nods. “Anytime.”

"How dare you!?" Claire asks.

Alcina pulls a basketball out of the void and chucks it at Claire. The girl yelps and scowls. "Just wait until I…"

Alcina retrieves the basketball and chucks it a second time. This time Claire scoffs and stomps away. Alcina picks up her basketball once more.

“Aren’t you worried that principal Nemesis is going to find out about this?” Donna shudders.

“I’m not worried about him. He likes me.”

Everyone likes Alcina, she is the school’s straight A student, basketball champion who also sings opera in the school choir and single handedly stacked every single chair after last year’s graduation assembly. Donna doesn’t know one thing that Alcina can’t do.

Donna hugs Angie to her chest, she doesn’t know why Alcina is bothering with such an average, run of the mill, super plain, and also a little clumsy person like her. “I don’t know why you’re bothering with such an average, run of the mill, super plain, and also a little clumsy person like me.” She says.

“You are adorable.” She pats Donna’s head. “Very small, very quiet. It is nice. Everyone else here is…” She glances around the hallway. One look reveals Karl shoving Moreau into his locker as he strums Baby Shark on his guitar, Ada Wong riding her skateboard straight into Leon who is drawing a penis on Ethan’s forehead as he tries to win his chess match, and Chris punching a boulder to block the entrance to the boy’s room.  

“I hate it here.” Alcina grumbles. “I should have went to that nice Catholic school that Mother Miranda picked out for me.”

In all of her years of attending Umbrella High, she still hasn’t been able to figure that one out. She is certain that Miranda, Alcina’s ultra strict and controlling mother and the school mean girl are the same person existing simultaneously, the same entity yet separate at the very same time.

It doesn’t matter; neither version of her is likeable. But at least Mean Girl Miranda doesn’t hold up ‘God hates Ethan Winters specifically’ signs and host Kool Aid testing parties every Sunday evening. It must be embarrassing for Alcina to know that her mother attends vaccination protests every Saturday--it dawns upon Donna that Alcina has probably contracted her ‘hereditary’ blood disease because Mother Mirada doesn’t allow her to get vaccinated.

“I’m sorry.”

“For what, Donna?”

“Your life. I would be devastated if my mom dedicated a whole day of the week to antagonize one specific person for no reason.”

“Oh, it isn’t just one person.” Alcina laughs. “She goes to Hobby Lobby every Tuesday to complain that the fabrics aren’t pre-assembled in her dress size.”  Having realized that it has no more use in this chapter, the basketball finally fades out of existence.

"That must be embarrassing."

Alcina shrugs. "What class were you heading to?"

"Lunch class."

"Wonderful. I for one can't wait for lunch, I heard that they're finally serving Jill Sandwich again. I'll walk you to the cafeteria."

Donna shakes her head, "Lunch class, not lunch. I forgot how to eat."

"Ah, okay." Alcina nods. "I will escort you to lunch class."

[entityskillcount-archive]

Thoughts on everyone in the realms?

"Short Answer; I made a chart. Not a well drawn chart, mind you, but a chart. Sometimes you don't wanna put effort into drawing 50 something faces"

"Long answer, uh....well lemme go down the list"

Claudette: My Starflower~!! She's so sweet and kind and amazing in trials and every time I see her I swoon a little- I love her so much~ Dwight: He's cute- And he's a good leader, despite his nervous personality, he knows how to bring a group together. Final guy potential. Ash: ....Don't...Tell him I said this? But uh....Evil Dead was one of my biggest comfort series, the thing that got me through losing both my parents....the thing that helped me transition, pick my name, and fueled my FX hobby. And I'm still attached, even realizing he's a real person and all- But...it's weird to just, be upfront with something like that, so I'm just...burying it as best as I can. David: He's a little rough around the edges but he’s good to have in a trial, plus when you can get past the walls, he’s nice to talk to. Kate: Her music by the campfire is calming and she’s such a sweetheart. If we were in a better situation I’d love to learn Guitar from her, but, it’s hard when you’re a moment away from a trial at any given time. Amalthea (@askthewidowstars OC): She judged my entire vibe but jokes on her I’m the one who snagged a cutie for life- Meg: If I had a dollar for every time she left me for dead I would have enough money to paint the entire campfire in solid gold. The only time we’ve ever properly talked was about SAW traps and 90% of it was her admitting she could beat every single trap because she was ‘built different’  Jeff: He’s a sweetheart and really nice to be around. Sometimes when we’re by the campfire in our downtimes I’ll let him draw on my arm. it kinda makes me want a tattoo, honestly. If we ever get out of here, I might get one. Steve: Bros!! We kinda make up team ‘Altruistic Himbo’, Plus the ‘Babysitter/Brother’ Vibes mesh really well. I kinda wanna re-style his hair though, mostly because it looks fluffy, and nice to play with.  Quentin: Bros!! We’re gonna make matching T-Shirts about committing Arson on Freddy in particular. He’s fun to hang around in our downtime, and I hope there’s a chance he can get some actual rest, even in here. He deserves it. Adam: If Dwight wasn’t the leader I feel like he’d take over the Reigns. I feel like he’s the calm type that doesn’t handle energetic types well though. Which, y’know, makes things hard.  Nea: Anytime I see her she’s either sneaking around the map and watching everyone get killed, or doing something stupid to get herself killed. I’d get grey hair if We were actually friends.  Feng: Gamer bros- I got to find out we actually played a lotta the same stuff before we were taken by the Entity. We get a chance to nerd out in between trials- Laurie: Best Final Girl hands down. I kinda hope she can teach me Decisive Strike one day- I feel like its also just a little awkward since again, still a fan of Myers Nancy: She doesn’t agree that Demo’s a good boy, which makes sense, but we but heads over it. Also I’m pretty sure she wants me dead for touching the bones around the map one too many times. They’re just too tempting.... Jake: He’s pretty quiet, but he’s helpful in trials. I heard he’s been to a convention a few times, but I don’t think he’s actually into it as much as I thought...Which kinda sucks. I’d love more cosplay buddies y’know? Yui: Kinda makes me want a motorbike. We don’t talk but she seems really cool. A little too cool to me around if that makes sense.  Yun-Jin: She benefits off of throwing everyone else under the bus. And 90% of the time she will throw everyone under the bus. Even if she needs actual help to escape the trial.  Cheryl: Cheryylll!!  She’s really cool and honestly would add her to the ‘Can kill god if she was not nerfed’ Squad. Especially since y’know, she has- I bet if we got enough of the kids together we could just beat the Entity’s ass. I know she could.  Tapp: Always been a fan of Tapp before I was taken, although I feel like he’d wanna arrest me if we weren’t in the Entity’s Realm. I might be a little too excited for my own good about Kramer’s work. I don’t think he’d believe the fact its a movie either.  Ace: He’s kinda like the Uncle of the group around the campfire, but, coming into trials, He’s still for saving his own skin- You can also only stand dad jokes for so long. Especially in an eternity like this.  Leon: He’s cool!!! I got so excited first realizing He and Jill were here, and I wanna get a chance to talk to him about everything that went down, but Haven’t got the chance. He’s nice inside of Trials though, usually doesn’t leave anyone behind. Not a fan of getting blinded though.  Jill: She knows how to lead the trials well, and I look up to her a lot. She’s always been such a badass!!  Bill: If Bill gets his hands on a weapon the entire Realm would be fucked. Badass as hell and Kinda scary. Another one on the list of ‘Entity needed to Nerf’ Felix: You’d think a Childless Father and a Fatherless son would be able to bond a bit more, but, I think we each kinda get the same vibe of homesickness from one another. He’s kind though, and it’s neat to see his work whenever we’re by the campfire.  Elodie: She’s better at helping out than most of the others, but she’s still in a survival of the fittest mindset. I loved hearing about her studies from before she was taken though. I feel like if we had more time we could dig deeper into this whole world and what its about. But we don’t get that- Zarina: We just don’t really click as much, honestly. I’d love to get to know her better but I think she’s more into digging into the killers and what she can find out about this place. Which y’know, could be better done with a team. Sage (@askthewidowstars OC): HUSBAND!!! My husband. I love him to the Moon and back. He’s amazing and I miss him even when we’re five feet apart-  ...I need a hug now-  Amanda: Best girl hands down!! We vibed a lot in between Trials talking about her traps and old designs, she was impressed by my knowledge, and we hang out in Gideon sometimes!   Ghostface: He’s pretty cute- Also fun to be around, even if he’s kind of a dick when he’s actually at work, it’s better when you’re outside of a Trial. It’s also neat to see he’s not just two idiots in a halloween costume and his own person, as much as I love the Scream Series, too-  Leatherface: Bubba!!! Honestly I’d handle being chainsawed. Fuckin Love Bubba-  Huntress: I wanna learn how to throw hatchets but I know I never will. She’s kinda scary, but also I feel like if she could adopt some of the others in the Realms, she totally would.  Oni: The only times I’ve ever really seen him is just before my skull gets bashed in. All I really have associated to him is the splitting headache.  Twins: I’m gonna punt Victor into the sun. I haven’t been good around kids beforehand and this tiny gremlin motherfucker just makes it worse.  Pinhead: I was so excited to see him!! He’s one of the few that talks more often than not in a trial, and he’s always had this air of elegance about him which makes it so much cooler! I’d be tempted to grab the box to solve it, but, at the same time Dwight’s already been hunted. I just...want to see how it works, really. Maybe if I ask nicely? Nah, probably not.  Pyramid Head: He’s so fucking COOL!!! He’s always just been really fucking cool and I still get stars in my eyes. I wanna re-create his weapon one day.  Joey: Joey’s one of the chill killers to be around, probably my favorite amongst the legion. Also Cosplay gang?? Hello? Susie: She’s cute!! I like her vibes whenever there’s not violence involved. I wonder if she’d ever get into costume making, she has the artistic eye for it. I also wonder if she’d ever dye other people’s hair...I’d kinda want green tips one day- Frank: Still wanna throw a palette at him. He’s one of the more serious of the Legion, and usually the one you’d find with a Mori. Not as Serious as Julie but only because he has the cocky god complex to go with it.  Julie:  She’s definitely the most serious out of the Legion. There’s no real rest whenever we’re in a trial against her. Scary as hell and less of a bastard than the other three.  Hillbilly: I know he deserved a lot better than this, especially after hearing more about him. I...Haven’t gotten to see much than the end of his chainsaw though.  Blight: This dude’s singlehandedly bringing back my fear of needles and I thought I lost that with HRT- Also like, dude spits up orange fuckin everywhere.  Michael: My Mans!! I always get a little excited knowing we’re up against him. It’s habit- It’s kinda weird to see him easily affected by like, palettes or flashlights though.  Spirit: She seems like she could be nice when there’s some downtime. I’m also one of the few that can understand her well enough, which probably makes things easier. I found out she’s basically my age when I survived a trial by myself. I’d hope to hang out more sometime. Nemesis: God he’s so fucking tall. Kinda surprised it was Nemesis out of everyone that could’ve been brought, and also, kinda terrified? Still am kinda terrified. I’m surprised he hasn’t just torn up an entire map yet. His zombie minions are also annoying. Wraith: All this motherfucker does is roll up to pull me off Gens and Exist as a problem. I don’t see much of him outside of a Trial. Trapper: Motherfucker Incarnate. If the Entity lets us throw hands I’m fighting him first.  Freddy: ....Gross. I liked the Nightmare on Elm Street series a lot, but...Freddy as a person? Ew. Especially this iteration.  Demogorgon: Demopuppy!! He’s a good boy and he deserves to get treats. Even if the Treats are flesh....I wonder if he likes candy though. Trickster: Pretty!! He also Gives me DIO vibes because of the Jacket and the Knife throwing...Imagine if a killer could stop time...that’d be terrifying. Deathslinger: I wanna sit down and look at his gun more but I also feel like if I ask I’d just get shot on sight. Intimidating as hell but also cool. Mary: ....Still on the very complicated ‘Ex Girlfriend that murdered me’ State. It’s hard to avoid her though. Especially since she wants to get back together since we’re stuck here. Nurse: She does not help my fear of Hospitals, honestly. While she’s easy to go up against, it’s still eugh. Plague: I really, really hate her power. The Sickness and the Vomit is just- Eughhhhh- It just hits every bad sensory issue at once.  Clown: ...I get killers are Killers and aren’t supposed to be good people but also like....Disgusting. Please Remove from the Realm. He’s just- ...Ew.  Doctor: NOPE. NO. NEVER. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO.

[fallout-fallen-knight]

Meet My OCs masterpost!

It’s been a while since I’ve done one of these and I’ve gotten a lot of new followers and several new OCs in that time. Enough now that I should probably put them under a read more. OCs are divided up by main setting that they fall under - even though all my Fallout content takes place in its own ‘verse (distinct from the canon Fallout verse in that there are horses, among other differences), the various coasts tend to be pretty separate. Without further ado:

Fallen Knight

Fallen Knight is a longform fic that is currently and irregularly updating. It takes place in the Commonwealth in 2287-2289, featuring a mix of canon characters (often modified to my own convenience) and OCs. It can be found here. 

Christopher Farris, aka the Fallen Knight (Lone Wanderer)

[image ID: a drawing of Christopher Farris by @scarecrow-forest​. He is a white, blond man wearing a baseball cap, a green shirt, and a long tan vest. He is holding a baseball bat and has a pip-boy on his arm. End ID]

Christopher is my lone wanderer that I ported to Fallout 4. He is (currently) a Brotherhood of Steel Knight alongside Paladin Danse. He is the main character of Fallout: Fallen Knight. He has a strong moral compass and idolizes the knightly ideas of protecting the weak and confronting the strong. Content for him on my blog can be found at #fallen knight. 

Kristine Finch, Minuteman General

[image ID: a screenshot from Fallout 4 of Kristine Finch. She is a light-skinned woman in a blue shirt and tan jacket, with a cowboy-like hat. She is standing in front of a ramshackle wooden building with a neon sign that says “Minuteman HQ”. End ID]

Kristine is my Minuteman OC and the General of the Minutemen. Under her leadership, they have worked to make the commonwealth safer by uniting various settlements to exchange resources and provide mutual defense. She has also published the Minuteman Guide To Commonwealth Travel, also known as the Blue Book, a handy pamphlet for settlers and traders making their way across the Commonwealth. Content for her can be found at #one if by land.

Thomas “The Trigger” Calvani

[image ID: a screenshot from Fallout 4 of Thomas Calvani. He is a white, brown-haired man in road leathers with various leather armor layered over it. He wears a pair of reflective aviator sunglasses and a green bandana covering his face. He is standing in front of power armor with flames painted on it. End ID]

Thomas Calvani is a ne’er-do-well from the Atom Cats who has somehow managed to continuously fall upwards, somehow culminating with him as the Overboss of the Nuka World raiders after trying to go to Nuka World with MacCready and Cait. Content for him can be found at #tales from the commonwealth.

Greetings from Appalachia

Hector Sanchez (Reclaimer)

[image ID: a Vault Tec ID card from Fallout 76. It belongs to Hector Sanchez, a latine man with brown hair, a Vault 76 jumpsuit, and a van dyke beard. He is smiling and giving a thumbs up to the camera. End ID]

Hector Sanchez is an amateur cryptid hunter from Vault 76. Raised in the vault on his mother’s stories of cryptids before the war, he left the vault with his best friend Hazel in search of cryptids to find. Content for him can be found at #greetings from appalachia.

Fallout: Brave New World

Brave New World is a collection of various OCs who end up in the Mojave wasteland at the same time, in around 2289 or so. While no unifying narrative yet exists, I am planning some ficlets/short form fic around these OCs. 

Ace (Courier 6)

[image ID: a screenshot from Fallout: New Vegas of Ace. He is a latine man with an eyepatch, a black cowboy hat, and a black leather coat over blue jeans, with several belts and bandoliers. He is standing in front of Dinky the Dinosaur and pointing a gun off screen. End ID]

Ace is my courier, and a member of the Great Khans. Still a teenager when Bitter Springs happened, he was separated from the rest of the Khans and spent his remaining teenage years doing odd jobs around the Mojave and avoiding the encroaching NCR, culminating in a fateful job for the Mojave Express. He now finds himself down one eye, hunting the Mojave for Benny and the platinum chip. Content for him can be found at #ace in the hole.

Sophia Mobius

[image ID: a screenshot of Fallout: New Vegas of Sophia Mobius. She is a white woman with white hair and round, cat-eye glasses. She is wearing a red labcoat and has the holorifle strapped to her back. End ID]

Sophia is a Followers medic turned disciple of Doctor Mobius after a chance encounter with a crashed satellite sent her to the Big MT. She later traveled to the Sierra Madre casino with Arcade and Veronica to hunt down and stop Father Elijah. She is now working with the Veronica and Christine to convince Brotherhood members to leave, smuggling out technology if possible, to assist the Followers of the Apocalypse. Content for her can be found at #followers of mobius

Martin Goldberg aka the Silver Canary (Reclaimer)

[image ID: a drawing of Martin Goldberg and Emmerane Black, aka the Silver Canary and Coal Black, by @rotarydials​. Martin is a dark skinned man with silver hair and a beard. He is dressed in the Silver Shroud’s outfit - a black and gray trenchcoat and fedora with a silver scarf. He carries a submachine gun, which he is pointing off camera. Emmerane is a white woman with short black hair. She has black goggles and a black cloak over a white shirt and red vest. She is doing air-guitar motions. They both have pip-boys. End ID]

Martin Goldberg, known better as the Silver Canary, was a pre-war vigilante and the inspiration for the Silver Shroud. As a staunch anti-fascist and anti-capitalist, he had several encounters with the movers and shakers of American industry, notably Robert House, whose suite Martin broke into while he was visiting a West Virginia plant. Upon learning about Vault-Tec’s plans for Vault 76, he broke into Vault Tec University, changing the list of vault residents to a list of random West Virginia citizens, as well as himself. 

While in the Vault, Emmerane Black, a moody young woman born in the vault, declared herself his nemesis. When they left the vault in 2102, he learned of this, and instead decided to take her under his wing, forcibly adopting the young supervillain. Though they clashed often at first, they quickly found they had more in common than they realized, and soon teamed up to take on certain targets - most notably the Brotherhood of Steel. 

At some point in the following years, both Martin and Emmerane ghoulified, and in the late 2200s, Martin traveled west, to find his old nemesis, Robert House. He now haunts the areas around Vegas, a mysterious spectre doling out justice to the wicked. Content for Martin and Emmerane can be found at #the silver canary and coal black. Emmerane belongs to @corsairesix

Caroline Keene, Ranger of the Wastes

[image ID: a screenshot from HeroForge of a black ghoul woman with short braids. She is wearing a cowboy hat, long duster, cowboy boots, and a shirt and pants that are all brown with tan accents. She has a revolver and a knife strapped to her hip and a repeater on her back. She is offering a hammered tin cup to the “camera”. End ID]

Caroline Keene was a park ranger in a firewatch tower in Monongahela National Forest when the bombs fell. After a few days of quiet introspection, her and some of her fellow rangers agreed to make their way to the nearest town to find survivors, slowly making their way to Flatwoods and then Morgantown to join the Responders. 

After helping the Responders stabilize Appalachia in the wake of the Great War and faction infighting that followed, Caroline traveled west, continuing to help out those in need as he crossed the country that had once been America. During this time, she began to ghoulify; though initially and understandably distraught, a community of ghouls in what was once Texas helped her to accept her condition. Upon arriving in the Mojave, she found that her reputation as the “Ranger of the Wastes” preceded her, and she was recruited by the desert rangers, though she left again when they were incorporated with the NCR. Now, she has settled in the Mojave, starting a brahmin and bighorner ranch with her partners, and helping shelter, teach, and raise lost and disaffected youth in the Mojave. Content for her can be found at #ranger of the wastes

The King of the Road (Chosen One)

[image ID: a screenshot of Heroforge of a dark skinned ghoul in a black suit. He has a red tie and a red cape, and is wearing round glasses and an opulent crown. He carries a spear and has a holstered revolver on his hip. Near his feet is a pile of coins and a gray cat, ready to pounce. End ID]

The King of the Road was once the Chosen One of Arroyo, but became disatisfied with the duties of ruling and the pressures of being the tribe’s chosen one. In 2244, he left Arroyo, wandering New California as a drifter. He abanoned his name and title, choosing instead to take the name of the King of the Road as his renown as a drifter grew. He ghoulified due to his exposure to radiation over the years, but took to the change rather well. He continued to travel the roads of New California, eventually finding his way to the Mojave wasteland as the NCR did. Content for him can be found at #king of the road (when I make it).

Angelia King

[image ID: a Heroforge mini of a white woman seated on a white horse. She is wearing a tan jacket over a brown chest piece, chaps, and tan cowboy boots. She has a red bandana around her neck and several belts around her waist, one of which holds a holstered pistol. Her left eye is covered by an eyepatch and there is dark makeup around both of her eyes. She has short dyed blonde and red hair that is shaved on one side. She is brandishing a rifle towards the camera and there is a sawed-off shotgun on her back. End ID]

Angelina King, the leader of the Nightstalkers, a gang in the Mojave in 2289. When Ace drives the NCR out of the Mojave, she at first believes that she will be allowed to operate with relative impunity; however, when the NCR supply trains stop coming from the west (no longer needing to fight a war that has been lost), she starts hitting caravans first and then larger settlements, carving her way across the Mojave towards New Vegas. Content for her can be found at #the nightstalkers strike again.

Other OCs

Hannah Alton

[image ID: a screenshot from Heroforge of a white woman wearing a forest green cloak. She has a brown cloth wrapped around her chest and blue jeans on. She has a quiver of crossbow bolts on her hip and is holding a crossbow. She has red hair and several piercings. End ID]

Hannah Alton is my PC for our Fallout: New Orleans campaign run by and using the PBTA hack Powered by the Nuclear Apocalypse made by @corsairesix. Hannah is a “raider” from a gang called the Robbin’ Hoods, a gang dedicated to stealing from New Orleans’ ghoul aristocrats and redistributing their wealth to the town they’re based in. Content for her can e found on #fallout New Orleans and #powered by the nuclear apocalypse

[twstdaydreamer]

Twisted Wonderland OC

“Morse Moriya Morrison”

“I do believe that I do not need to defend myself to the likes of you.”

General Profile

Full Name: Morse Moriya Morrison

Japanese Name: モールス モリヤ = モリソン

Nicknames: perceptive stupid, henchman, she-devil, boss, mistress, Morse-chan, Morse-san, evil mastermind, Morrison-kun, Napoleon of Crime, Morry, Triple M, koebi-chan, trickster, etc.

Biographical Status

Specie: Fey

Gender: Female

Birthday: June 6

Star sign: Gemini

Age: 16

Height: 156 cm (5′1)

Hair color: Silver white

Eye color: Argentine silver

Alignment: Lawful Evil

Dominant Hand: Left

MBTI: INTJ-A

Homeland: ???

Relatives: Dire Crowley (adoptive uncle), Sherry and Siege Sheridan (distant cousins)

Personal Status

Likes: Sherry, eating junk food (much to Vil’s horror), books, coffee, planning crimes, analyzing, mathematics, procrastinating, ciphers.

Dislikes: Talking, dancing, parties, technology, dresses, all food aside from junks, anything that has something to do with physical activities, drawing, people calling her short, boredom,

Interest/Hobbies: Hoarding trinkets, reading, stargazing, mystery, murder, teasing Sherry Sheridan and her new found toys in NRC. 

Talents: Singing, playing guitar, martial arts, gifted analyst, planning a flawless murder, battle tactics and stratagem, persuasion, deceit, deciphering any codes and ciphers.

Strength: Observant, flexible, intuitive, perceptive, competent, exceptionally intelligent, flexible, inquisitive, dedicated, work well under pressure, adaptable, quick learner, abstract thinker.

Weakness/Flaws: very insensitive, short-tempered, deceitful, eccentric, dense when it comes to everyday life, too stubborn, can’t remember names well, a lot of hidden insecurities and worries, sore loser, rude, prideful and unruly at times, will do everything to achieve her goals even if it means using others.

Professional Status

Occupation: Student, criminal mastermind (former)

Bases of Operation: Night Raven College, House of Cards (former)

Dorm: Ramshackle

School Year: First year, student no. 20

Class: 1-A

Best Subject: Mathematics, Magic Analysis

Worst Subject: Flying

Club: Light Music

Unique Magic: The Valley of Fear - Morse can materialize her victim’s fears and use it against them. If she decided to use her unique magic in advance level, she can physically replicate the persons from the victim's past that cause them traumatic experiences. Morse noted that this is not a type of illusion-based magic.

General Status

Favorite Color: Black (because of Sherry)

Favorite Food: Junk foods (chips, gummy bears, etc.)

Least Favorite Food: Vegetables (especially carrots)

Appearance: Morse has bright cat-like argentine eye that constantly glimmers with curiosity when something piqued her interest. She has wavy butt-length silver white hair with several strands framing her face. As a fey, Morse has a pair of pointed ears and canines. She is petite and quite short in height. She prefers wearing light-colored and loose clothes.

Personality: Morse was an extremely intelligent individual. She’s calculative, perceptive and observant of everyone and is very particular of her surroundings. According to Azul himself, her cunning intelligence that could outwit him is what makes her so dangerous. Morse is highly accomplished in the fields of strategies and mathematical formulas. Although it was said that her tactics could always lead to multiple victories, upon miscalculating something, she doesn’t take it very well (a sore loser). Due to her nature that couldn’t properly understand emotions, Morse can come up as insensitive, rude and very, very blunt. She has no hesitation in using others as her stepping stone to achieve her goals and her unconventional, underhanded methods in solving her problems often lead to others hating her greatly--although she no longer cares.

Quote: “Age is just a mere status, not a limitation that shackles you to do things you want to. No matter how young or old you are, you can make a difference. Like the small pieces in chess, you can also change the flow of the game.”

History: coming soon~

Fun Facts

Morse hates talking to anyone, so she just let her ipad do the talking for her. But her words was always written after her namesake, the Morse Code. Ace, Deuce and Grim always forced her to speak to them without codes.

She have a white bunny stuffed toy named Moran which she carries everywhere. She said it was a birthday gift from Crowley.

Morse lacks the sense of taste, thus she developed the complete hatred of food. She is fond of junk foods though, claiming that she loves how it crunches between her teeth even though she cannot taste it at all.

Morse keeps a diary, journalizing all of her adventures and pranks.

She has astraphobia: the extreme fear of thunder and lightning. She's also not fond of storms and rain. She gets jittery and panics a lot. 

According to Crowley, “her right eye can see through everything but reflects nothing. On the other hand, her left eye is just an empty hole.” She blatantly refused to tell anyone why and how she lost it.

Everyone would often see her wearing a pair of earphones when walking, listening to music.

Her taste in music was always soft rock and acoustic, much to everyone’s surprise.

My first Twst OC! I hope you like Morse as much as I had fun writing her! You guys can asked me question about her (or interactions). Also, I twisted Morse from Sherlock Holmes's nemesis Professor James Moriarty (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

He's evil...and so does she (▰˘◡˘▰)

I'll make Sherry and Siege's profile soon! They were twisted from both Sherlock and Mycroft, the Holmes brothers, but in my case, they were sisters lol.