#still not 100% content w. this one but i'm also not willing to rewrite it a second time so this is good enough

[raitrolling]

House of Cards

[Easy reading version on Toyhou.se]

Less than a week until the event, Viltau’s Fright Night planning had been brought to a sudden halt. 

Of course, it had to be the centrepiece displays. Two eight-foot-tall statues of Frankenstein’s monster, modelled to resemble the actor who portrayed it in the original film, were supposed to have arrived yesterday. The Fright Night Event was themed after the Universal Classic Monsters media franchise, and he had ordered these props over a perigee in advance to ensure they would arrive in time as they were quite possibly the most vital decorations to tie the entire theme together.

But, somewhere along the chain of emails there had been a miscommunication on the supplier’s part, resulting in a delay with the delivery. Somehow, they had missed the memo that the statues were for a Fright Night event, a mistake that completely baffled Viltau. Did they think he was ordering these merely for fun? 

Granted, he has been known to make expensive purchases of such calibre on a whim, but that was beside the point. 

Many further emails, calls, attempts to chase up the courier company, more calls, going through every other contact he could think of who might possibly be able to provide him with a substitute statue in such a short timeframe, and a short break to imagine chopping up every troll responsible for this blunder to become his own Modern Prometheus later, Viltau was coming up with absolutely no answers.

And, to top it all off, his brainstorming for how to fix the issue had been rudely interrupted by yet another problem: The loud and distinctive crash of one of the chandeliers falling from the roof and onto the just-polished marble floors, shattering all the tiny light fixtures and making a mess of the hallway. Upon inspection, it had been shoddily installed by the chandelier maker, who Viltau had noted spent far less time on that particular installation compared to the other two chandeliers on the ground floor. The blueblood he had hired assured him it was fine, and that he was in a hurry to his next hive call so if there were any issues he would drop by tomorrow to check it.

His own fault for gambling on a business he had not worked with before, as his usual supplier for chandeliers had been on holiday when he first tried to contact them.

It was fortunate that no one had been around when the chandelier fell. Gerrel had the night off and was surely at one of his many other part-time places of employment, Klavir was performing at a highblooded bar lounge in Block 136’s harbourside district, and Eichio had been vacuuming the guest rooms upstairs at the time, and immediately ran to his boss’ office to report the loud noise as if it hadn’t resonated throughout the entire mansion like an explosion in a glassware shop. 

The thought of what he would be dealing with had one of his employees been in the wrong place at the wrong time, however, made Viltau’s blood boil.

That itch in the back of his mind and burning in his chest, that made his fingers twitch and his feet feel possessed with a sudden need to run and kick about. A spike of adrenaline and rage that can only be sated with one thing.

The chandelier maker needed to pay.

Viltau had called up the man and requested his urgent presence due to the incident, but the quickest the chandelier maker could make it to the Espino Mansion was still in an hour’s time. He had apparently booked out his schedule yet again but did not elaborate, though the indigoblood could only assume that he was constantly running around fixing up his own installation blunders. There was simply no way that chandeliers were this high in demand, even at this time of sweep. 

No matter, he could wait.

He spent that hour pacing impatiently around the hallway, unable to keep still or his hands occupied. The stress of anticipation compounded with that of the lingering date of the event hanging over his head was driving the indigoblood to gnaw on his fingers as he paced, a compulsion he only did when extremely irritated.

Eichio, meanwhile, had resorted to sweeping up all the broken glass from all the miniature light globes, and trying to not pay any attention to his boss. He knew better.

Sure enough, the chandelier maker arrived within the hour. Like a switch had been flipped within him, Viltau shook off his obvious franticness and put on a mask of absolute calm. Expression neutrally pleasant, but the look in his eyes barely concealed his rage.

The chandelier maker was ushered inside by Eichio, and Viltau greeted him with a smile and a slightly-too-firm handshake before directing him to the collapsed chandelier. The blueblood winced at the sight, but waved his hand and claimed it was an easy fix. 

“Must’ve been a fault with the screws, never seen that happen before,” he drawled, a lie he had told countless clients before and would continue to tell those he had booked after this appointment. “Can re-install it for you, but I’ll need to charge extra for the replacement screws. Special kind, y’know?”

Viltau raised an eyebrow at that.

“Of course, I suppose it would be best for me to pay up to ensure this does not happen twice, no? After all, a few screws is nothing to my funds, but, had the chandelier fallen during my event onto one of the guests, or worse, my employees…” His tone was cutting, but his smile didn’t falter. 

The chandelier maker gulped. 

“Right. Look, I don’t have the time to do the re-installations now, since I’ve got another call in the next region over in about ten minutes, could we book this in for tomorrow? Sometime between, oh, I dunno, four am?” He responded, casually, already looking at his watch. Viltau had noticed he was doing that gesture quite often the other night, during the installations. 

The indigoblood nodded. “Very well, that is fine with me. But first, I don’t suppose it would be too much of an ask if you have time to examine the wreckage closer? I would hate for you to have to take even more time to replace the main structure should it have been damaged in the fall, if I am to be perfectly honest.” He too, was accustomed to the art of partial truths.   

There was a brief look on the chandelier maker’s face, knowing that he had just been caught out for his corner-cutting, but he merely grunted in response. “Aight.”

He crouched down to take a closer look at the fallen structure. Unbeknownst to him, Viltau had just given his assistant their well-practiced signal: tapping his hand against his thigh three times in an even rhythm, a gesture that to anyone who is not Eichio would have been mistaken for impatience. 

Within the reflections of the silver chandelier frame, the blueblood noticed a golden glow steadily rise behind him, but by the time he turned around, it was too late.

A dictionary had been expertly thrown at his head with the precision of a trained telekinetic, and the man was knocked out cold.

“How was that, Mister Espino?” Eichio said with a smile, the golden light of his psiionic aura evaporating away.

The event organiser applauded.

“A perfect shot, Eichio, I must say. Now, do come with me to the cellar, I will need your help once again.” 

Eichio nodded, and returned the book to his modus before he started making his way to the next room.

Viltau took a moment to stare at the knocked-out troll. Perhaps that may have been enough of a taste of one’s own medicine, forcing him to confront the cold reality of how it would feel to have a heavy object dropped upon him, but while he no longer felt angry, he still didn’t feel satisfied either. 

Oh well, now to figure out how exactly to satisfy his unsettled feelings. He hauled the man over his shoulder, and followed Eichio to the stairwell.

Part-wine cellar, part-laundry, and part-torture chamber, the Espino Mansion’s basement was quite the versatile location. Top-of-the-line ventilation and drainage systems had been installed, the floors were easy to clean and could take a beating, and the walls were soundproofed to help muffle the screams of those on the wrong side of Viltau’s weaponry. The amount of implements stored below the building’s ground floor would make a hardware store - or an abattoir - jealous.

The event organiser motioned for his employee to set up the stretcher that had been folded away in one of the corners, and Eichio complied. Assisting his boss in all matters no matter how gruesome was what he did best, after all.

Viltau set the chandelier maker down onto the stretcher, nodding at Eichio in gratitude as the yellowblood moved away to take his position by the entrance to the stairwell. He gave his victim a quick once over to make sure he was still unconscious, and out of caution decided to take the restraints from the stretcher to tie down the man’s limbs as well.

It was a methodical, almost clinical process, one he had done many times before. And in that moment, it occurred to him that he really was just going through the motions. Maybe it was because he had to wait so long for the chandelier maker to show up that for the most part his anger had subsided quicker than usual, but he felt like his heart wasn’t fully into it tonight.

Or, maybe that was just because he still didn’t have a plan for what he was going to inflict on this troll in revenge for his carelessness?

With the troll now secured, Viltau spun around and sauntered over to the tool cabinet, humming to himself. In a good mood, he would have been singing along to whichever pop song he thought would be appropriate background music, but this was a more pensive hum of a man lost in thought as he rifled through the drawers.

One such drawer contained a mixture of medical tools and butcher’s knives, used for carving up corpses. Hm. He was thinking earlier about creating his own statue of Frankenstein’s Monster…

This one wouldn’t be the size he wanted, and he’s not sure of how much taxidermy stuffing he had on hand, and he’d likely need to find even more trolls to obtain that patchwork look the monster was famous for. But, he supposes this was a start.

Bonesaw now in hand, Viltau spun around the return to the man strapped on the table. He pressed the blade against the man’s arm, looking to see exactly where would be the most aesthetically pleasing spot to make cuts for the patchwork sculpture, but as he did so he caught a glimpse of his captive’s face.

The blueblood’s curly fringe neatly framed his face, and his expression almost seemed peaceful, for someone who had been knocked unconscious at least.

Viltau… Hesitated.

Was this still fun for him anymore?

Perhaps he should have placed a pillowcase or a bag over the chandelier maker’s head so that he didn’t have to look at it, but he had thought it would have been more thrilling if the man regained consciousness partway through the deed.

Instead, he couldn’t help but think of Hazard. 

Of how he disapproves of these silly means of cheap entertainment, of how he likely worries that one night he might be the one on the indigoblood’s makeshift operating table, how a grin of sadistic glee on Viltau’s face as his victims crumble and whimper and cry for mercy would remind him of the man he hated the most.

The indigoblood sighed deeply, and the bonesaw clattered to the floor.

Eichio’s ears perked up at the sound, and he ducked back into the room to check on his boss.

“Mister Espino? Is everything okay?”

He was met with an expression that he had never seen belonging to his boss’ face before: One that seemed almost regretful in nature.

“I believe… I have changed my mind. Eichio, do help me out with untying this man’s restraints, would you? Then you can dispose of him somewhere off the estate’s grounds, he can find his own way home. He certainly got the idea that karma had come for him after the blow to the head, no?” Viltau said, a clear distracted edge to his tone, and a far cry from his usual assured self. “Do not be afraid to give him another book to the head if he starts to stir too early, if such an event occurs. I wouldn’t want you to get injured by a disorientated highblood, after all.”

Eichio could not help but give him a concerned look in response, but nodded obediently.

“Okay.”

The two trolls untied the blueblood, and Eichio attempted to pull him off the stretcher. The chandelier maker was heavier than what he was used to carrying, so instead he had to resort to dragging him by the shoulders back up the stairwell and outside of the mansion, leaving Viltau alone in the basement.

It was as if one of the most fundamental parts of his person had suddenly vanished, and left a giant void in its wake. He had revelled in violence as entertainment and a means to display his power over those who tried to mess with him for so long, but in that one moment, it all just seemed so pointless. Perhaps that was simply a fleeting moment of doubt… But what if it wasn’t? What would he do from now on, whenever he felt stressed and frustrated, whenever he felt bored and nothing else could sate him, whenever he felt like that helpless child he once was and had hoped he had killed and buried away for good?

He sighed again, louder this time, shoulders sagging as he ran his hand down his face, feeling a lifetime’s worth of control over his own identity slip away from his fingertips.

All because of someone he happened to be incredibly fond of.

Oh, what a hopeless man he was.

[the-whispers-of-death]

i feel like i should preface this with: these arent fandom ocs. theyre in their own universe thats 100% made up

uhh. okay hm. so the only 2 with actual personalities and stories. and im now remembering theres probably more than 8 lemme give a small quick summary of. everyone? oh no.

so theres 2 "main" stories in their own respective universes, but one of them is going trough wip and rewrite hell rn.

the ones from said rewrite hell are Typlus/Void (they/it); Vast (he/him); Elly (it/its); Melz (he/him) and Steph/Stephanie (she/they). fun fact it all started as a rewrite of the bible and the impending doom of the planet. or something, i dont even remember anymore. but now theyre just a big family sorta chilling out on their own planet at the physical edge of the universe. its more of a concept than actual ocs, so i have things to draw when i dont know WHAT to draw. nothing is set in stone, nothing is real here. and none of them are human.

and the other is more.. grounded in reality that ive been chipping away at slowly for the past year or so because the characters decided to make my brain into a 5 star hotel

theres elias (he/she/they); dominic (he/him); marcus (he/him); elizabeth (she/her); andrew (he/him) and amelia (she/her)

theres 2 seperate families within this: the jamesons, which includes elias as the son and andrew+amelia as his parents, and the DeAngelo's which is the 3 others, but theyre siblings instead

the only 2 with personalities right now are dominic and elias, who are also in a situationship with eachother, and will probably remain that way for the rest of time

story's basically just "what if the disgraced son of rich parents who happens to be an owner of a bar/club (elias) meets the guy who mans a stand at a farmers market (dominic). and what if they were both t4t. and what if they ended up being workplace lovers/friends w benefits"

elias is lowkey a very unlikeable and bitter guy, very self centered and speaks without thinking. dominic's the reserved type who only speaks when spoken to, but very willing to resort to violence when needed.

does this make sense. i dont know. oh and i counted, theres 11 of them, if we dont count the spin-off AUs as characters. (like when i decided they should be hybrids. or the royalty au. or the mafia au that was actually the origin of all this nonsense)

theres also 2 filler ocs i use whenever i just need a placeholder character for any situation: red and sylvester, but neither of them even got as far as getting designs from me but theyre there

theres. so much content on my main about these idiots that a friend made a sideblog just to sort it in one place. and even after this he hasnt sorted everything lol

.... shit bad news i think i have like 30 ocs actually, i just remembered another batch from ages ago. so. uhm. anyways. and does a made-up species of flower count as an oc. because. yeah. ive got that too.

~ rusty (i get embarrassed when OCposting to others sorry)

I think I need separate asks on both the rewrite hell and the wip stories, because they seem too interesting to be in one ask. They deserve their own separate moment to shine.

I'd love to hear more.

And I'm contemplating adding some of my other OCs (is it still called OC if I made the universe?) in, just because I've been stuck in this limbo of not even finishing a chapter in a book I've started writing and I've had these characters & universe in my head for roughly two years.