#otis's child

[thatweirdbitchjax]

Can I request a child reader with (whatever slasher you want)?

Muti slasher x child reader who has metal problems that hasn't been diagnosed with (whatever one you feel comfortable writing)

So, I'm gonna write for depression and or anxiety as I have both. I have no clue if these were what you meant, but here you go! Also, I apologize if I offend anyone, I am solely going off of my experience with them and what I do with mine. Sorry it started getting short at the end, I started running out of ideas :(.

Characters: o.driftwood, b.sawyer, b.firefly, capt.spaulding

Warnings: depression, anxiety, mental health issues

There are more than likely things that I forgot to mention in the warnings, so proceed with caution

Mental Child

Bubba Sawyer

Bubba picked up on how sad you had been

But it wasn't just sadness, he could see it in your eyes, it was something else

At first he just thought that someone had dropped by the gas station while you were there helping Drayton and said something mean about you, so he tried sitting with you

He slowly recognized that, that wasn't helping and quickly clocked when you started distancing yourself

Staying in your room more often then not, your eyes constantly being swollen, the fact that he couldn't bring a smile to your face like he used to

He began to worry, heavily

He tried to get Drayton to take you somewhere to get you fixed, but Drayton seen no issue with how you were acting

Eventually tho, Drayton breaks after even Nubbins began worrying about you

Nubbins noticed how little you smiled, how you seemed to look a little more dead everytime he saw you, and how little you were eating

Anyways, at this point, everyone is worrying about you

The breaking point is when Bubba walks up to your room to find you in the middle of an anxiety attack

He doesn't know that's what this is tho, so he picks you up and rushes you down stairs

Drayton takes you to the hospital and blah blah blah

Captain Spaulding

Baby was the first to notice how off you were acting

No longer willing to scalp people with her, let her do your hair, let her paint your nails or anything

She recognized that you were distancing yourself and told Mama, and then, somehow, word got out to Spaulding

He immediately came and picked you up and took you to live with him for a while

To say he was worried was an understatement

You weren't eating, you were barely sleeping, and he could hear your anxiety attacks

He couldn't do anything about it tho, cause he didn't know what to do

He noticed how slouchy you were and eventually asked you what was going on, telling you that he was beginning to get worried

If you deside to open up, he tries to find you a place to get you help after a while

At first he was like, "Oh, everyone gets a little depressed now and then," but then he started getting worried when you weren't seeming to get better

Otis Driftwood

You think this mf cares?

He tells you to suck it up

He will get kinda worried when you start violently shaking and start screaming about how you can't breathe

Only then does he try to do anything to help you tho

Baby Firefly

She cares! She really does, she just doesn't understand why you can't breathe

She tries getting you water and holding you

She doesn't really know anything about Anxiety, so Mama was the one to make the assumption that that was what you had

She tried to make herself a bit smarter on the subject so she can help her baby

@puppet200 @purpleeggyboi @th3-r4t-48 @zeroisreallygood @im-a-simp898 @artsycrow46 @evry1h8s-me @aflairforthemelodramaticc @caretaleandotherstuff

[awoogaslashers]

[madebysimblr]

Gemma: -And my mom wants to know what the plan is for Harvestfest, but I figured we should have it at your parents so everyone can fit in one place?

Matty: Sure, sure.

Juliana: Loopaloop!

Matty: That's right sweetheart. Soon you'll be able to tie them, huh?

Gemma: We're going to have such a fun time at Grandma's, aren't we?

Juliana: Yah! Yah!

Matty: You sure you don't want me to come with?

Gemma: I'm sure! I know Sundays are your run days with Otis. Have fun!

Matty: Yeah you too. See you later then.

Gemma: I love you!

Matty: Uh-huh.

-

Matty: Sup dude!

Otis: You're in a good mood. You finally listen to me about counseling?

Matty: Nah, Gemma's pregnant.

Otis: Oh? I uh, didn't know that was something you were trying for. Congrats?

Matty: [laughs] Oh, we weren't! There's no way that kid can be mine!

Otis: …. And this is a good thing? I'm so confused.

Matty: Our prenup, which her dumb ass didn't read. It has an explicit infidelity clause. If she cheats on me, I can divorce her an not owe her anything. Soon as the kid is born all I gotta do is get a quick paternity test and I'm FREE of her.

Otis: What about child support?

Matty: I'd make sure I got full custody of Juliana-

Otis: You still could owe child support, even with full custody.

Matty: Seriously?

Otis: Uh yeah, there's a lot of caveats-

Matty: No offense law student, but my family's lawyers will see to it.

Otis: Right. Just trying to help.

Matty: Sorry. I just… I hate how my life has ended up.

Otis: Well, fingers crossed it all works out I guess.

[escapingpurgatory]

if you had to be stuck in any horror movie which one would it b and why 🖤

oooo, I like this question! I'm gonna base this on of I could survive the movie or not. For example, I know I could survive "Child's Play" or "Sleepaway Camp". But if I wasn't basing it off survival, it would have to be either "The Evil Dead" (1981), or "House Of 1000 Corpses". Why, you may ask? Those are two of my favorite horror films of all time, and both feature some of my favorite horror characters. Ash William in The Evil Dead, and Baby Firefly, as well as Otis Driftwood in House Of 1000 Corpses. Thank you for the fun ask!!

[leslieseveride]

the woman and her baby oh.... my god...

[laxi0v0]

Ratcatcher

[shadesofnavy]

If I may ask, what happened to Adams and Pico after Keith's death in the animatronic au? Is2g if you tell me that Adams abandoned Pico soon after I will sob

You're in luck, this is one of those rare AUs where Adams actually doesn't abandon Pico!

Signing up for the security gig was one of the best decisions Adams' had done in his life. It was a job he could do, and the best he was ever paid at the time. Thanks to that he wasn't constantly stressed or busy keeping up or looking for other jobs and fretting over how he was going to make enough for the rent and bills next month. Keith and The Boyfriend's Funkstaraunt had unknowingly changed both Adams' and Pico's lives for the better, and helped Adams grow closer to and notice his son more than he did at the start.

Adams secretly thanked Keith for it--his generosity, his consideration for those who worked for him. There was something different about him that made Adams find himself wanting to get closer, although he believed he was far too out of league to ever reach out to his boss for such a matter. He'd end up regretting not doing so in the long run though.

Adams would find himself unable to step in the Funkstaraunt again after getting the news on Cherry's birthday the day after the incident. Along with the girl, both he and Pico were devastated, and even as the Boyfriend animatronic managed to cheer up the children for a while, Adams could only watch from the sides as little Pico, Cherry and their other kiddy friends enjoyed Boyfriend's company. There was a sense of familiarity when the mascot looked at him for a brief moment, almost unsettling, and that look alone made Adams make his decision. He would not come there ever again, not when the only person who brightened their world had been murdered within those walls.

Little Pico was upset, but didn't complain nonetheless when Adams quit and instead chose to move away to another apartment across the city--this one far better than their old crappy one. He'd miss seeing his friends, but most of all, he'd miss seeing the one person who made his father smile and love for the first time since the boy could ever remember.

[schalotte]

s4 of sex education is insane so far

[slashingdisneypasta]

My sister, bored and poking about in my room: *Points at picture* Who's that?

Me: Who's who?

Her: That

Me: Oh that's Ot!-

Her: Is it you

Me: ... yes. Cant you see the resemblance?

[house-of-slayterr]

Mother Knows Best:

An: Blinky’s old life comes back to bite them in the ass.

Cw: ableism, mentions of suicide, child abuse and sexual assault

Blinky’s POV:

It was one of those days, where I just couldn’t explain what the problem was. Everything felt wrong, the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. My stomach felt queasy and my head hurt. But I knew better than to assume these were related to physical illness. I just felt this way sometimes. Like the world was crashing down around me and all I could do was watch.

I thought I was doing a good job at hiding it, but my heart sank when Otis cornered me in the kitchen. He was the last person I wanted to talk to right now. I was pleasantly surprised when he didn’t start yelling right away. Perhaps Manon had finally gotten through to him.

“Blinky, are you- are you ok?”

“Why would you think I’m not ok?” I asked, putting on a fake smile and raising my voice a few octaves.

He sighed heavily.

“You been sitting in that damn chair all day. You didn’t even eta breakfast this morning and I haven’t seen you move in four hours.”

Had it really been four hours? Dang it, I really needed to get out of this funk.

“Otis?”

“Yes?” He asked, pulling out the dining chair across from me and sitting down.

“Do you believe in retribution?”

“Retro-what now?”

I laughed at that. I hadn’t meant to absorb some of Manon’s dialect, but it seems it was inevitable.

“Revenge, suffering the consequences of your sins?”

“Christ Blinky, have you been hanging out with Ghost again? Enough with this sins shit!“

I frowned.

“What, worried you won’t go to heaven when you die?” He asked a bit harsher than I expected.

“I wouldn’t want to, heaven sounds boring.”

“Then what’s the problem kiddo?”

“I don’t know, there’s just- I feel like-“ I sighed frustrated, raising my voice at the end “something entirely awful is going to happen and I can’t stop it.”

“Kid, nothing bad is going to happen to you on my watch. Don’t care who I have to beat up to make that clear.” He laughed.

I couldn’t help but smile at that a little. I wouldn’t say Otis was good at pep talks by any means, but he was getting better.

“And what if you’re not there to stop it?”

“Blinky, I don’t even know what it is. But I’m not leaving you kid. You’re stuck with me.”

“Forever?” I asked.

“Damn right!”

He held out his hand and gave me a little fist bump. It helped me feel a little better.

“You done stinking up the place with your worrying?”

I couldn’t help but giggle at that a little.

“Hey Otis?”

“Yes Kid?”

“The best part of my life was knowing you.” I said definitively.

I got up from my chair and walked away. I could tell he debated following after me. His feet shuffled on the floor awkwardly, but he remained seated. I went up to my secret spot on the roof. Ever since we fixed it, I wasn’t really worried about falling through again. It was the best place to go to think, not being surrounded by the walls for that house. Feeling trapped. I felt ungrateful whenever I was like this. Otis had basically saved my life, so why couldn’t I just be happy and down there with him right now? Why must my brain drag me down with its madness?

The hair on the back of my arms stood up again and I could tell something was horribly, horribly wrong. I saw a car pull up from the distance. It wasn’t often anyone drove directly out to the house, so then who sent them. I squinted my eyes at the vehicle, it was far to fancy to be a local. I leaned over the edge of the roof, crawling so I was less visible to anyone on the ground. They were wearing a big fancy hat, and my heart nearly stopped in my throat when I finally saw their face.

I scurried back on the roof and threw my hand over my mouth, trying to calm my breathing. What was my mother doing here? How did she find me?

Selena was the one to answer the door, I could here her voice clearly.

“Hello? How can I help you.”

“I’m looking for this boy, have you seen him?” My mother asked.

Supposedly holding up a picture of my brother. Selena let out a sigh.

“No ma’am, I have not, let me go ask the others. They might be able to help you.”

“Other people live here?” My mother asked.

I’m assuming Selena nodded. She wasn’t very good at impromptu concerts Akins with strangers. So she was probably itching to get as far away from my mother as possible. And frankly I didn’t blame her. My mother was a snake. A mosquito that sucked the life out of people.

I heard the click of Manon’s heels, she was supposedly grabbed by Selena.

“Can I help you?” She asked.

“This woman is looking for someone.” Selena explained.

“I’m not sure how much help I will be then. Perhaps Otis know where this boy has gone.”

I wanted to get far away from the house. Hide away somewhere where she couldn’t find me. But fate wasn’t on my side today. My mother was seemingly startled by Otis’s presence and stepped back enough to see me. I didn’t dare move my eyes off her as my breathing picked up. She ignored anything he was saying and zeroed in on me.

“There you are you little brat!” She spat at me.

Otis wasted no time. It’s didn’t take him long to figure out I was one the roof, I was the only one who lurked up there.

“Excuse me?” He challenged my mother.

I didn’t even bother using the ladder, I hurled myself over the edge, catching myself on the ledge and slowing my fall so I could land on my feet.

“Ewch adref mam.” I said simply. “There’s nothing for you here.”

I tried to keep my voice steady, but it betrayed me. Before any of us had time to react, my mother grabbed my arm harshly.

“You don’t speak to your mother that way.” She said coldly.

“I think you should remove your filthy hands from my child.” Otis warned.

I watched Manon tense beside him as she started to figure out what was going on. My mother tried to play nice, like she was some sort of hero.

“You people are sick! Taking a mothers daughter away from her. Where is my son?”

“Ma’am I really think it would be best if you leave.” Manon tried to deescalate the situation.

But it was useless, my mother was stubborn, but Otis even more so. He’d already made up his mind then and there on how this was going to go.

“Rwy'n mynd â chi yn ôl at y cythraul bach” tightening her grip on me.

I could tell it was going to leave a bruise and I started hyperventilating. Spaulding seemed to have caught on to the little altercation at the front door, because he stepped out holding his shot gun.

“I don’t know who you are, but I’m gonna give you one chance to get the fuck off my property.”

My mother had the audacity to laugh in his face.

“You people kidnap my child, and you think you can threaten me? I wonder what the sheriff will say about this.”

Spaulding didn’t waver in his stance. Doubling down and itching his finger on the trigger.

“Why don’t we go inside.” I offered.

I knew once she was inside, there would be no chance of her escaping.

“Only smart thing you’ve ever said.” She commented.

Pushing past Otis and dragging me into the house. My eyes never left Otis, silently pleading with him to help me.

“Where is my son.” She tired again.

Of course she didn’t come here looking for me. She didn’t come back for me, only him. Selena stood behind Spaulding, awkwardly shuffling on her feet. She didn’t know how to help. I knew Spaulding wouldn’t want to let off a gun in the house, it would only cause more repairs for us to make. But he would if he had to. Otis let out a curt laugh.

“You think this is funny?” My mother asked, egging him on.

“Considering your sons fertilising our garden, yeah, it’s a little funny.”

My mothers eyes widened, and her grip tightened impossibly so. I let out a wince as I felt the bone in my arm creek under get death grip. I had gotten stronger since I’d been here, but apparently not strong enough. Manon clenched her fists at her side. They had to figure out how to get her away from me before they could attack.

“You wanna know what I did to him?” Otis pushed on, stepping forward.

“I first started with cutting out his tongue, and watching him struggle not to choke on his own blood.”

My mother looked absolutely horrified that someone could do that to “her little Angel”

“And then I started breaking his bones, hearing his gurgled pleas as he begged me to stop. Only after I skinned him alive did I grant him the mercy of death.”

She finally dropped my arm, lunging forward at Otis. She was making her bed at this point, there was nothing I could say and do that would convince them to spare her at this point. Manon rushed to my side, pulling me into a hug as I finally let the tears slip. She pet my head.

“Shhhh, Blinky, it’s ok. You’re ok, I’m right here. We’re not gonna let her hurt you again.”

Selena protectively stood behind me, rubbing circles on my back. Spaulding was quick to use the end of the gun to hit my mother over her head, knocking her out. There seemed to be a silent conversation between the two men. Which was dangerous. If Otis and Spaulding were agreeing on something, nobody was safe. Both men were fiercely protective of their family.

I tried to stop my tears and I turned to look at my father.

“Don’t kill her right away. I want to talk.” I said.

“Wouldn’t dream of ending her life so quickly.” He said.

He stayed away from me. Otis couldn’t control himself when he got in a state like this. He was afraid of hurting me by accidentally, which is more than I could ever say for my mother. She did it on purpose, she enjoyed it.

“Blinky, let Doe Eyes look at your arm please.” He said a little softer.

I watched as he and Spaulding dragged my mother away to be tortured. I was used to being the one looking over injuries.

“I’m fine Doe, it really doesn’t hurt. There’s nothing you can do for a bruise.” I sighed.

“Then let me put my mind at ease.” She asked.

I nodded, letting her lead me to the couch. Selena stayed close by, not daring to leave. I winced when Manon touched my arm.

“Oh Blinky-“ she started.

“She’s down worse, I’m fine.” I said coldly.

I didn’t mean to be upset with her, I really wasn’t. I was thankful she was hear right now. But I could feel myself becoming quickly overwhelm. My mother probably blamed me for my brothers death. But it was his fault, all of this was his fault.

“I gotta go.” I said, quickly standing and running to my room.

Ghosts POV:

I was worried about Blinky. They were usually so carefree and joyous. I’d never seen them look so terrified before. Like the devil himself came to claim them. It was Heart breaking. Blinky could turn almost anything into a joke, but right now they weren’t laughing. She was crying. Full on, sobbing.

I looked to Manon for help. She was so good at keeping everyone calm and collected.

“I don’t know Ghost, I don’t know.” She said, shaking her head.

“Do you think this is like My Sisters?”

“God I hope not. I can’t stand to see one of you go through that again.”

I knew it wasn’t right, but I couldn’t help it. I followed Blinky to the room where their mother was being held. And I lurked outside the door, listening in on their conversation. Her mother was spreading profanities left in right, she was almost worse than Captain Spaulding.

“You fucking little shit! I wish I never gave birth to you?” Her mother yelled.

I was surprised to hear Blinky’s voice stay calm, not shaky like it was earlier.

“I am your mother! Have some respect.”

“You are not my mother.” Blinky said coldly.

I’ve never heard their voice like that, it was icy and devoid of emotion.

“You have never been my mother. You mean nothing to me.”

“You ungrateful bastard child.”

“Your bastard child! You did this, you’re the one who cheated on Father and had me. You’re the one who let him do those things to me.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about little girl!”

“Don’t I? You can’t seriously be that deluded. Or do you not remember all those times in the back of the church? With father with his other priest friends. Of course you wouldn’t remember, you were off being a mother to him instead.”

“Your brother needed me.”

“No, I need you!” Blinky yelled.

“I needed a mother. And you couldn’t even give me that.”

“I raised you. And you’ve never shown me any gratitude for that.”

“You raised me? I raised me. I bought my first bed, my first car, my school books, my own food. I cleaned the house, I made sure he didn’t fail in school. I was on course to make you proud, and you never showed me any gratitude for that. You never gave me anything. All you do is take mother, you’re a parasite, it’s what you do.”

“These creeps have gotten into your head.”

I peaked around the corner of the door to try and get a better look. Their mother was strapped down tightly to a chair, struggling wildly. And Blinky remained on the other side of the room, Adam crossed and with an empty look in their eyes.

“No, they saved me. They’ve protected me from people like you. People like father, and people like my brother.”

“You’re not gonna get away with this, people will know I went missing. They know I was looking for my son, and they’ll track us both down to this house.”

“Then we’ll deal with that when it comes. Enjoy your time Mother. This is the rest of it.”

They went to leave but there mother said something I couldn’t quite understand in Welsh. Blinky’s slightly odd accent made more sense now. Their mothers was much thicker.

“What did you just say to me?” They turned around, their body shaking with rage.

“I said you never should have been born you little shit. Do you know how embarrassing it was to raise a child you? I should have given you up like your father had asked, maybe then I’d be sitting at home with my two boys.”

“Oh, mother” they condescended, “father never loved you. You were convenient to him. A walking, talking green card. And he left you just the same didn’t he? When he blew his brains out in our garage, he left you nothing. He gave it all to his son. He would have taken my brother and left you cold and alone.”

“You take that back.”

Blinky crossed the room, leaning closer to their mother, and placed a hand on her face.

“But don’t worry, you’ll be with brother very soon. Say hi to dad for me will you, fy butain o fam.”

“You can’t let them kill me.”

“See that’s the beautiful thing mother, I don’t let them do anything. I don’t control them, that’s now how family is supposed to be. They’re doing this to you because they love me, something you’ll never understand. Goodbye Mother.”

The pushed themselves off the chair and stomped into the hallway. I tried to move, not to be spotted but it was useless.

“It’s not polite to listen to other people’s conversions Selena.”

There voice wasn’t loud, or threatening. It was disappointed. Something I never wanted to be aimed in my direction again. It felt bad to have Blinky displeased with me.

“What did your father do to you?” I asked.

Tears brimming in my eyes. I may have Ben sheltered, but I wasn’t stupid.

“What didn’t he do to me?” They said sadly.

“We’re gonna fix this.” I tried to lighten the mood.

“I appreciate the gesture Selena, but there’s no fixing this. There’s no changing the past. What’s done is done, you move on, you get stronger. That’s the way these things work I’m afraid.”

I felt bad watching them walk away. Felt like I should do more. But I didn’t know how to comfort them, I wasn’t good at these things. I instead turned my attention to their mother, stalking into the room.

“And who are you supposed to be little girl?” She spewed angrily.

“The names Ghost, and I’m about to be your worst nightmare. You heart Blinky, and that is unforgivable.” I said.

Of course I knew Otis wanted final say in her death. But he wouldn’t stop me from making her suffer a little first. I couldn’t comfort Blinky directly, so this was the next best thing.

Otis’s POV:

I was fuming, absolutely livid. How dare she come here, to this house. How dare she lay her hands on Blinky. I was going to break all of her fingers until she could never dream of holding anything her again. I thought their brother was awful. He’d been a right bastard, totally dipshit. But now I see where he got it from.

This thing that called itself their mother. If she thought she was going to take my Kid from me, she was dead wrong. The audacity of this bitch.

“Otis, you need to calm down.” Manon tried.

“Calm down? Calm the fuck down? How can you be calm right now? You have eyes don’t ya?”

“Yes, Otis, and we will handle this. But getting yourself all worked up isn’t going to help.”

I looked at her in disbelief. Suddenly Selena entered the room.

“What do you want Ghost?”

“Did you know Blinky’s mother was letting their father assault them?”

“What?!?” Manon and I roared at the same time.

Oh she’d done it now. It was gonna be weeks before I let this bitch die.

“I hope you dont mind, I roughed her up a little, but she’s all yours Otis. Blinky would want you to do your worst.”

I was going to, there was no question about that. I was going to make her beg for Mercy.

“Maybe I should go talk to Blinky” Manon spoke up.

“Don’t bother, I’m right here.”

We all turned to see them standing in the door way, a small backpack on their back.

“Blinky, what are you doing?” I asked.

“I can’t be here, not while she’s here. I don’t want to be in the same house as her.”

“Kid you can’t leave, where would you go?” I was getting concerned now.

They wanted to leave, leave me. I couldn’t let that happen.

“I have somewhere I can stay, please don’t worry Otis. I’ll be back home before you know it. I just- I need time. I need to think. I can’t do that if she’s right down the hall.”

“Blinky-“ Manon tried.

“I promise, I’ll be safe. I’ll keep in touch. Please.” They begged.

I let out a sigh.

“I’ve got my knives on me, if anyone tries anything I can handle it.”

I brought them in for a hug. I wasn’t much for psychical affection but it felt important in this moment.

“You better come home to me.” I said.

“Always.”

“I’m gonna make her suffer.”

“I know you will, thank you. I’ll be back before you know it.”

Selena gave Blinky a sad wave, and Manon joined in on the hug.

“You get in any trouble, you come right back here ok?”

“Ok.”

I watched stiffly as Blinky walked out the front door. Something I never wanted to see. But they were 18, they weren’t a child. They could do this.

Blinky’s POV:

It broke my heart leaving then. But I had to do this. I pulled out my cell phone and dial the one number I needed.

“Hello?” Her voice rang through the phone.

“Hey Macy, umm, I’m gonna need you to pick me up.”

“Did something happen, are you hurt?”

“I’ll explain when you get here, just please, hurry. I really need you right now.”

“Meet me at our spot.”

“I’ll be waiting. Oh and Macy-“

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

“I love you too Blinky. I’ll be there as soon as possible.”

Perhaps this was a good thing. I could finally meet my girlfriend Family. Learn more about her life and let her into mine. All this lying was getting to me and I couldn’t take it anymore. Maybe now was the best time to make things official. Maybe I could bring her home to Otis when this all blew over. That would be nice.

Welsh: “go home mother” “my whore of a mother”

Tag: @myers-meadow-selfship @oceansrose2002 @vincent-sinclair-deserved-better

[thatweirdbitchjax]

Reader Driftwood Incorrect Quotes

Dividers by @strangergraphics My mother @puppet200 helped with some of the last ideas.

Your Friend: *leaving a haunted place they just explored* And then she-

Demon: *deep scary growl from inside the place*

Your Friend: *walking towards the place* Wha-

Reader: *shoving Your friend* Go motherfucker! *laughs* You're our designated fucking driver!

Baby: *nudging Otis with her elbow* You really gonna try and deny that that's YOU'RE child?

Otis: Well, not any-fucking-more.

Reader: Have I ever told you how much I love you?

Otis: *looks up slightly* No, no I don't believe you have.

Reader: *smiles* Oh good, I was just making sure.

Otis: *frowns*

Reader: *dies for the umpteenth time in their game* I'm gonna fucking kill myself.

Otis: If you don't, I will. How the hell can my own child suck this bad?

Reader: *deadpan*

Reader: *after killing someone for the first time* God, I shot the hell outta that guy, huh?

Otis: *nods proudly*

Reader: Ugh, I feel sick.

<time skip>

Reader: *250 kills later* FUCK YOU!

Reader: *dressing up Otis*

Otis: *sitting quietly*

Captain Spaulding: *confused*

Otis: *tries to get up*

Reader: *pulls out a gun* Sit the fuck back down.

Otis: *puts his hands up and slowly sits back down* Alright, alright. Damn.

Otis: *walks into the kitchen with his hair in braids*

Reader: *walks in behind him*

Mama: Aw! Would you look at that, they did decide to join us for dinner!

Reader: *glares at Mama*

Otis: Yeah yeah, not a big fucking deal.

Baby: *giggling while looking at his hair*

Reader: *puts a photo of Otis with a full face of make-up in front of her*

Baby: *breaks out into laughter*

Otis: *glares at Reader*

Reader: *flips him the bird and smiles*

Otis: YOU LITTLE-

Otis: *walks into Spauldings gas station* Here's ya newest fuckin attraction

Spaulding: *grabs it from him, eyes lingering on his nails* What's with the polish?

Otis: What are you talking about- *looks at nails* ...FUCK!

Spaulding: What?!

Otis: *rushes out of the front door* Nothing, fuck off.

Reader: *looking at a billboard* Ooh Ice Cream!

Baby: Yea! If anyone else is interested, I think we're gonna be wanting some ice cream in about ten miles.

Otis: *mocking Baby* I think we're gonna want some ice cream in about ten miles

Baby: *gasp* Don't fucking imitate me, that's fucking rude! *imitating Otis* I know what I know, and I know I don't like that nutsack.

Reader: *slaps Otis's arm* Dickhead.

Otis: Hey fuck you.

Reader: Fuck you!

Spaulding: Two-fucking-seconds for the kid, is that gone kill you?

Otis: Yes, it is gonna kill me. I have calculated the time, and two seconds is the exact amount of time thats a hazard to my fucking health.

Spaulding: *laughing*

Reader: Come on, don't be such a fucking drag, I'm starving.

Otis: Hey, eat this. *flips her off*

Baby: What is your fucking problem, we'll be in and out in two seconds.

Spaulding: You know? I think I'm gonna get me some tuttie-fucking-fruity.

Baby: Tuttie fucking fruity, that sounds good, Reader?

Reader: Tuttie fucking fruity!

Baby, Spaulding, & Reader: Tuttie fucking fruity!

Otis: Shut up.

Baby, Spaulding, & Reader: Tuttie fucking fruity!

Otis: Shut up!

Baby, Spaulding, & Reader: Tuttie fucking fruity! *laughing*

Otis: Listen, you have no fucking Ice cream, in your fucking future, you got it?

<time skip>

Baby, Spaulding, & Reader: *eating ice cream*

Reader: You said my dads a what? A murderer?

Reader: Ok, so, from what I understand, he CAN afford child support?!

Reader: *runs up to Otis* PAY. YOUR. FUCKING. CHILD SUPPORT!

Reader: *looks at Otis with puppy dog eyes*

Otis: No Reader, I don't care if you give me the damn sad eyes, its not.. fucking.. hap-

Reader: *pulls out gun while giving him puppy dog eyes*

Otis: Nice try, that doesn't fucking work anymore.

Reader: *places gun to the side of their head*

Otis: *eyes widen* Alright! Alright! Fuck! Take it! *hands them his wallet*

Reader: THANKS DAD! *runs off*

[mahlyenki-dyavol]

Did you ever chew Otis out for acting like such a creep when you first met him?

Oh, Yeah, we had a few talks about that. I still never really got a straight answer as to why he didn't just talk to me after a few days or weeks.

And I'm still not sure why he was creepy about it all. He could have just talked to me. I didn't get suspicious until after he started acting shady, so it's not like I wouldn't have heard him out.

Otis just said he didn't want to risk exposing himself as a vampire if I was just a human. But I still don't understand why he had to be so weird about finding out if i was actually a vampire.

Some times i wonder if we could have had an easier time if Otis had been more forward about the situation in the beginning.

[seelestia]

✧ i'll show you (if you'll let me).

⎯ there is a certain touch of beauty to witnessing a side of theirs revealed to you so naturally. it becomes as easy as breathing if you just let it happen... so, will you? ( or in other words, a way you enable them to be themselves. )

#STARRING. aventurine, dr. ratio, sunday, dan heng ft. gn!reader. { 4.2k words }

#TAGS. fluff, established relationship. more: minor spoilers for aven's backstory (described mostly abstractly), ratio is referred to by his first name, i called sunday a nerd (sorry), dr. ratio & dan heng are certified workaholics.

#P/S. i think i may have yapped a little considering the word count but i hope it ends up being a good kind of yapping. tysm for reading! ♡

© seelestia on tumblr, may 2024. please do not repost, plagiarize, translate, use for AI-related purposes or claim as your own.

★ 〜 masterlist.

will you let aventurine hold you close when he sleeps? . . . whether it's an arm slung over your hips or his nose buried in your shoulder or fingers tracing shapes onto your skin. he doesn't ask for too much; only that you grant him the permission to cradle you in his arms, somewhere within his reach. it's a habit, he hopes you don't mind.

you have to wonder, though. considering the plenitude of pillows on the bed, why do his hands still seek you out? with all the credits he spent on those cotton-stuffed angels, you thought aventurine would relish them a bit more. but ah-ah, see? that is where you're wrong. sure, the pillows are extremely comfy but he always has a preference for things with much, much more value.

and the truth — well, his truth — is that even the softest cushions from oti mall couldn't compare to the privilege of laying his head on your chest, he'd say. especially when you brush his hair with your fingers - oh, one of the easiest ways to paradise. truly, the best value there is! can you blame a man for being honest and a little lovesick?

(“sappy,” you accuse. he pouts, offended.)

but aventurine has a flair for theatrics, you know that. his witty quips are as feather-light in weight as light-hearted they are in intent. but his touch - in the forms of kind caresses or rhythmic taps to a tune from his forgotten culture - lingers on your skin, with a yearning so heavy. you question whether it could be nostalgia or instead, silent awe at a reality he never imagined could ever be his.

(kakavasha remembers. clinging onto you for warmth like he once did to his sister, falling asleep with her prayers to mama fenge in his ears. the avgins believed gaiathra triclops to be the symbol of humility; so naturally, their prayers to her should also be humble, not too quiet but not too loud. all in moderation. for a frail child like him, those gentle prayers alone were enough to let him drift into a dreamless slumber and to ignore the shackles of reality if not for the briefest moments.

time passed. came a time where the melody he associated with slumber was no longer a soft voice lulling him but pure static, a noise to distract his mind from the chains around his wrists. they burned themselves onto his skin, searing, but he was already too familiar with the sensation to care. the mark on his neck was unwelcome, laughing at him, but he too laughed at his own pitiful reflection so what's the difference, anyway?

time passed again, the call of slumber then turned into clattering noises of chips doused in gold and dice thrown onto a surface. he thought it'd stay that way forever but before long, it morphed into up-and-down waves he couldn't decipher initially. they're gentle, faint like a human's breathing: your breathing as you allowed him to lie beside you for the first time, he realized back then. although he deems himself unworthy, an ugly grime on your pristine existence that still insists on cradling him — but despite it all, he finds this last melody to be his favorite so far.)

✧ a moment among the stars:

ticklish.

the sensation, minor yet still impactful enough, causes you to stir out of sleep. the light of noon greets your eyes and you become vaguely cognizant that the root of it all is the tufts of blond hair brushing against your neck.

there is a solid weight on your torso and a pair of slender arms loosely wrapped around your waist - but they're nothing you haven't grown used to. you comb your fingers through the messy locks licking at your skin, instinctively, and the fragrant scent of what you register as penacony's limited edition perfume kisses your nose.

“...ugh, what system time is it?” you let out a grunt, shifting around slightly to let your limbs breathe. you don't get an answer to your question, instead, aventurine's arms reestablish their hold on you. hooking you closer to him as if to wring out whatever proximity is left, if there is even any. his simple proclamation of “who cares?”, in a sense.

there it is again, that ticklish feeling. you feel soft lips grazing feather-like kisses against your collarbone. oh, he definitely isn't letting go just yet. truly merciless, a dozy morning thought accompanied by your tired sigh. the noise still comes out fond, however, so your feigned act of annoyance is fooling no one.

“it's warm, you know,” you grumble. but the yawn escaping your mouth right after betrays whatever stern image you're trying to adopt. not like you can ever be too stern with him. aventurine knows this, yes, and he gives you an A+ for effort each time.

“mhm,” he finally speaks, snuggling into your chest with no care about anything in the world, “g'morning to you too, lovely.”

his favorite mornings aren't his favorite if not thanks to your innocuous complaints and delightful attempts at pushing his pretty face away, no? a lazy grin graces the stoneheart's lips and eyes like exquisite gems, although sleepy, flutter open to gaze at you languidly. he takes the sight of you in then lets out a sigh - a fond noise just like yours earlier; the both of you really are two peas of a pod.

you must look a terrible mess right now and yet, the sight of you has aventurine smiling dazedly. “ah, what a spectacular sight. i really am the luckiest man in the galaxy,” he hums in approval. you want to roll your eyes but stops as he leans up to pepper (ah, one necessary correction: smother) kisses all over your face, arms dragging you closer to his chest like a cage. your eyes widen comically. what a nefarious trap, he has the advantage!

every remnant of sleepiness clinging to your mind evaporates. you squeal with laughter, shoving at his shoulder using the strength of a baby deer because no, you don't really want him to stop. he knows that too, of course.

“mwah, mwah, mwah—”

“pfft...! kakavasha, i can't breathe!”

(he has half a mind to pinch his skin, as if to remind himself that this is real. he can feel your giggles tickling his skin as if to tell him in return: yes, you are.)

will you let veritas pour his heart out after a long day? . . . well, that could count as too much of an overstatement. others say, “that man is like a brick wall!” some more dare to whisper, “doesn't his temper already exhaust whatever emotional quota he has?!” needless to say, everyone knows that dr. ratio is a man ruled by the mind, not by the heart. alright, that's quite true - but does that imply he has discarded the latter altogether? if so, then you beg to differ.

(not in the literal sense, of course! the heart is a vital organ of the body. saying otherwise would be akin to spitting on his shiny phd in biology... or his seven other phd's at that.)

the pedestal which the public places veritas ratio on reaches still great heights, even if it may not rival an ivory tower a member of the genius society resides in. it is so high up that mundane troubles of those below can't reach a genius like him, surely? well, as tall as he stands - somehow, the universe grants you a front row seat for a particular sight that proves otherwise.

if only they knew the doctor has a habit of mumbling these incomprehensible (more like barely intelligible) grumbles under his breath, striking a resemblance similar to a grumpy old cat. if you strain your ears hard enough, you might catch a “...this has to be it...” or “...i dare not think so...” from time to time as he roams around the room with materials in his hands.

(absurd, people would say. but you think it's extremely cute.)

veritas doesn't say it out loud - but you can tell by the hunch in his stiff shoulders, by the one or two sighs he huffs every six minutes - that he is itching to tell somebody of all the tomfooleries he has encountered today. of course, the topics he laments about vary; it's only when you hear him exhaling the loudest sigh that you get to find out.

mostly though, it's about his students and remarks on how they can further improve their performance — sure, he could phrase it a little gentler — but you still find it sweet that he cares. if not that, then it'd be about indolent colleagues, complicated formulae and more. on some days, he'll even let out an exasperated “truly mind-boggling! could you believe that?” to which you'd reply with an “uh-huh, go on.”

at the end of a ranting session, veritas takes careful note to leave a kiss on your person afterward. no matter where it is - on the lips, the cheek or your hand. no matter where you are - sitting on the couch beside him, behind the kitchen counter or across the room. the warmth that stays on your skin when he pulls away is somewhat tingly. appreciative, you think, especially when he looks at you with such loving eyes that his colleagues would be sure to retch in shock if they were a witness.

looks like you are right on the money; he has never discarded his heart, after all. so yes, to rephrase - will you lend veritas a listening ear when he needs it?

✧ a moment among the stars:

“...yet another headache.”

as unsubtle as ever, the doctor's complaint is barely hidden behind the guise of a mumble. those neatly styled violet bangs of his aren't doing an excellent job at concealing that frown strewn across his forehead either. veritas's posture is tense, a dead giveaway, as he goes over the piles of documents on his desk.

you cock an eyebrow upon seeing the stamp belonging to the intelligentsia guild on one of the papers. definitely work. it has been two system hours since he took a seat at the work desk, you concur, or lifted a finger to do something besides flipping through drafts. a mere glance at the stack of documents is enough to convince you that those researchers at the guild must really value veritas's input.

a perk of being a genius, maybe? the phantom of a weight lands alight on your shoulders. with a mug of black coffee in hand, you make your way to him. your footsteps are without a sound, only the noise of porcelain being placed down onto woodenware is enough to announce your arrival. “rough day at work?” you ask, peering down at his progress.

(a doctor's handwriting really is something. you resist the urge to squint.)

veritas doesn't seem to mind. if the way he smiles at the sight of you, albeit tiredly, is any indication. “hah,” he rests a hand on his temple and scoffs wryly, “so much grievances like you wouldn't believe.”

oh, he is teetering on the precipice of a tangent but stops himself. “...fret not, i'm fine. this is hardly something beyond my expertise,” he shakes his head, the motion causing his reading glasses to slide down a smidgen down the bridge of his nose.

you're too familiar with the self-assured bravado he puts on. you're quite endeared, actually. “okay, mr. i-require-no-rest,” you take the glasses off his face and he breaks into a frown. at the childish tone you're using or for having his reading glasses taken away, you don't know.

“why don't you take a little break?” you suggest. veritas sighs, “need i remind you that dilly-dallying is for fools who wish to waste their time?” and crosses his arms defiantly. he knows your strategy, he has come face-to-face with it several times.

“do you think a break with me is a waste of time?” you present him with a rhetorical question, quite the difficult adversary.

(and he keeps losing to it every single time.)

“well, that's—” the doctor nearly splutters, taken aback. “that's different if you insist on inserting yourself as a variable,” he infers, putting emphasis on the last part accompanied by an incredulous look.

“the answer is up for debate then,” you shrug with a cheeky smile. your hand then deftly lifts the mug you previously set down to your lips, veritas's eyes dilate in bewilderment. “so,” you hum at the rich taste of your handiwork, “wanna tell me about your day? haven't heard about the council in a while.”

“you—” he gasps in defeat, “i thought that was supposed to be my mug of coffee.”

(he has a slight pout on his face, but you dare not point it out lest it disappears in the blink of an eye.)

“our mug of coffee,” you take a few more sips with an innocent decadence. “all is fair in love and war, doctor.”

“i can never win with you,” he buries his face in his palm with a groan. you laugh heartily, a sound that chimes like quaint little bells in his ears - it elicits a reaction from his lips, for them to quirk up at the corners in the smallest of ways.

“regardless. . .” veritas relents and reaches for your free hand. you let him. “it seems a break wouldn't be so amiss, after all,” he then presses a kiss on the side of your wrist, affectionate.

(your heart skips a beat.)

will you let sunday regale you with facts you've never heard of before? . . . a man of eloquent words, no less a man of educated mind. you have no doubt that the books in the dewlight pavilion really aren't just there for show - not that you're allowed to browse through them at your own desire. a servant's voice would stop you in your tracks should your fingers ever brush against something in the family's secret bookshelf.

how mysterious.

but sunday makes it known to the staff that you, in particular, are allowed more access to the shelves - perhaps, not too much - but more than even mr. mccoy, at least. with the way you have to crane your neck far up to pinpoint the tallest height that the shelves reach, you wonder: has sunday gone through everything here personally?

your immediate answer is most likely. you know sunday fairly well; to have something that he hasn't scrutinized from the inside out in his possession will surely gnaw away at his psyche incessantly. not being in the know at all times is a looming fear for him. but of course, you have other ways to confirm the answer for yourself.

pick out a book from a shelf there, either intentional or purely arbitrary, and watch as sunday carefully traces his steps towards you. his curiosity is piqued, which topic has caught your interest this time? but he tucks it under proper cordiality. with a hand behind his back, he'd utter your name in the softest tone and ask the familiar question of “would you like to know more?” — asking for your permission to ramble, essentially — you find this tendency of his to be charming, so you nod each time.

(and he smiles when you do. a smile less refined at the edges, kinder and relaxed.)

the best place to start from is always the beginning. you think sunday agrees because he often starts by telling you the history and its origins before moving on to its impact on the galaxy, then his personal stance on the topic. it's a pattern, you notice, his ramblings have a pattern. and it's consistent every time, you might've believed he was reading off a script. and what's more? sunday is blissfully oblivious of it.

fascinating. you ponder: what kind of things you can do with this information? decisions, decisions, decisions. . . but ultimately, you opt for keeping it a secret like a treasure only you're allowed to see.

(that might be true in a way. you don't doubt that robin, his dear sister, is familiar with this side of him. does that mean he treasures you like he does her? your chest starts to feel a bit lighter.)

if you were to point it out, you fear you might never witness it again - goodness, to know that he has been displaying such foolishness or rather, what he viewed as an embarrassing freudian slip in front of you? his wings might as well resort to covering his face for good until the end of time.

as you listen to him talk (with such elegance at that), you can't help whatever tender look you have on your face. really, who would've thought the head of the oak family could be such. . . a nerd?

(you hope in secret that sunday will be more willing to show sides like these to you in the future. and that they're not a weakness at all, not when they're shared with you.)

✧ a moment among the stars:

“it looks like you're fascinated by the dreamscape nursery rhyme this time.”

sunday spares the article in your hold no further inspection. one glance at the cover and walls of memorized information rush to the front of his mind. he looks familiar with it; could it be a part of his childhood too? but then again, everything found here is within his knowledge.

“i am,” you say with intrigue, “it got me ruminating for a while.”

you meet his gaze, stumbling upon yellow irises that glimmer akin to gold under penaconian chandeliers. you think you see a hint of affection in them, swimming around your reflection like a school of fish in a pond. it makes you smile.

he smiles back, oblivious to your thoughts but returns your gesture. he asks, “how so?” and you reply without delay, “i read through it and the morbid undertone took me by surpri—”

or at least, it's supposed to be without delay until you realize sunday has stepped closer in order to peer down at the page you're holding open. and suddenly, you're extremely aware of every minute detail like how his breath brushes against the side of your cheek and how his chest rumbles as he hums in acknowledgement.

(you flush in the neck and he perceives this reaction of yours with mirth.)

“my apologies,” sunday chuckles and pulls away, “i've simply forgotten the rhyme and wished to refresh my memory.”

“somehow, i feel that isn't the case...” you mumble accusingly. that seems to amplify whatever little amusement he gets from flustering you. “oh, my dove. i can assure you that it is,” he caresses your head, a little placatingly.

most times, sunday isn't so laidback about giving affection in public — since he has an image to maintain — so you assume the fact that the servants are out and about, leaving only you and him here, plays a role in his unusual boldness. you accept the gesture with a bashful pout.

“now, where were we?” sunday clears his throat, “ah, yes. some people have noted on the nursery rhyme's strange quality but still, it retains its popularity in penacony. it is also widely assumed that the hound resembles the bloodhound family while—”

you hold back an amused sigh, but it's more out of fondness than anything. he'll start from the history then the effect on the general public, as per usual, but you're not the only predictable one here. you'd listen to him anytime too, won't you?

(you do adore when the head of the oak family would put off his public figure mask around you. if only for just a while.)

will you let dan heng rest his head on your lap when it's just you two? . . . the sense of comfort it provides isn't something he can explain with words. as if he has ever been good with words in the first place. saying a sentence bereft of logical reasoning or witty remarks doesn't come easily to the express’ guard. neither does intimacy. . . but you know that already, don't you?

after all, it isn't a secret that dan heng prefers speaking with his actions. if to show one's intentions is the end goal, then actions are the fastest route to choose. words, although able to sweeten the trip like how a beautiful scenery can, will eventually lead to actions regardless so why take the extra step?

but you're different from him; you articulate what you think and what you mean. you're honest in ways that keep catching dan heng off guard without fail — just like the first time you offered your empty lap to him when his head was swirling in pain — but he supposes that is one of your charms. “words can be useful. we're not all born mind readers,” you told him once and he hummed, accepting of your perspective.

(“look at you two! opposites attract!” march chirped. he recalled shooting her a look of indignation and she rubbed the back of her head sheepishly in response.)

dan heng has learnt to grow used to your propensities - but by far, your shameless invitations are still one matter that can't be comprehended even with time. he cannot understand; how you smile as you sit on his futon in the archives (he doesn't mind), how you link gazes with him so effortlessly, how you pat your lap knowingly and say, “why don't you rest your head here?”

(he has to restrain himself from bursting into flames like a heliobus.)

sometimes, he'll accept reluctantly or he'll decline with an underlying tone of longing he doesn't want you to notice. because as much of a good hold dan heng has on nonchalance, he cannot deny that this particular gesture of yours has left a mark on him.

(it remains persistently.)

when he rests his head on your lap, he can't help but take a deep inhale - your fragrance fills his senses and he discards the selfish desire to keep it all to himself. your fingers are soothing as they thread through his hair gently. the feeling that washes over him is serene, almost comparable to submerging himself in the pure waters of scalegorge waterscape.

when overcome by such a tranquil state of mind, dan heng wonders what expression he might be making at that moment? he always keeps his eyes closed, so it's a shame he may never know. but you do, and you don't think you've ever seen him look so at peace before like he does now.

(perhaps, that's why you keep offering him this in the first place.)

✧ a moment among the stars:

“someone looks tired,” you state with a pointed stare. the archives isn't a room too spacious and the only ones here are you and him. the target of your sentence is obvious.

but dan heng doesn't take the bait, barely looks away from the entry he is currently authoring. still, he spares you a glance and hums glibly, “are you projecting? if so, feel free to use my bed in the meantime.”

you let out a noise, something gibberish that conveys disappointment but it is effectively drowned out by the typing noises. “you haven't even touched the food i bought you,” your voice becomes mellow, “why don't you rest for a while?”

he isn't convinced, you think, since his fingers are still hard at work. the new info the team brought back must've been a lot if he's that focused.

“dan heng?” you try again, hopeful for the last time. you don't take him for a fool, of course, he'll know when he reaches his limit and have proper rest then. but would that really be ideal? a second passes and that hope flickers like a dimming light. but just an inch before the edge of giving up, the typing slows to a stop.

“. . .alright,” he murmurs. finally, after a good hour spent drawing patterns on his backside with your eyes, dan heng turns around to face you. he look tense, you note with abject concern.

“here,” you usher him to your lap, empty and conveniently so. dan heng shoots you a blank look - this isn't the first time you offered and this isn't the first time he reacted like that. you try to suppress a laugh, failing gloriously at it. “just for a little bit,” you utter through a stifled fit of chuckles.

dan heng shakes his head, not in rejection but in defeat. his eyes slip close, second nature, as he leans to situate his head on your lap. you welcome him with a hum and let your fingers card through his hair. a calm sigh falls from his lips like a water droplet in springtime.

“this. . . is nice,” he admits, sudden and unprompted. you nearly doubt your ears for a moment there. did he— “i don't hate it is, uhm, what i mean to say,” dan heng adds and it dawns on you that your ears are still working. his eyes are still closed, not that you'd expect anything else, he prefers to treat it as a shield from being face-to-face with embarrassment.

(or to avoid your ecstatic gaze. he can feel warmth rushing to his cheeks already.)

“i know,” you smile, brushing away a few messy strands from his forehead. he isn't an open book but you think you've read the pages enough to remember all the little details. “but thanks for telling me. i'm no mind reader but i think i can read yours pretty well.”

“i shall provide no further comment,” he holds back an incredulous exhale, yet his lips still curl slightly at the corner. you feel the teeniest desire to trace the curve of his lips with your fingertip but settle for silently admiring them instead.

“it's fine. i know the answer already,” you say, words dripping with affection. such a shame dan heng never looks up at you during a time like this. because if he did, he wouldn't have missed seeing the sheer fondness in your gaze that rains down on him in light showers. a true shame.

(one day, he'll gather the courage. maybe.)

— thank you for reading! reblogs with comments are most appreciated. ♡

[butt-berry]

Otis and Gulool Ja from Final Fantasy 14 I would die for this child for real

[disneybooklist]

Toby Tyler (1960)

Toby Tyler: or, Ten Weeks With The Circus by James Otis Kaler (1881)

[sinfulwrites]

Would you ever be open to writing for Otis driftwood?

Honestly, probably not. I don't have anything against him, I just don't really have any motivation to.