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Happy Holidays!! Art by Haren

#christmas

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This blog is a mess and I feel really overwhelmed over here. Rework comin’ right up.

#ooc

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With RWBY volume 6 out I’ve been bit by the Mercury bug all over again. I’m still going to be here, but I find that most of my inspiration is going into him right now. So catch me at @nightmarebcrn if I’m not around.

And like this post if you’re willing to do crossover threads with Merc? I forgot how tough it is to get into new fandoms.

#ooc #self promo

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santa clarita diet sentence starters.

a collection of starters from the netflix original, santa clarita diet! feel free to change pronouns/names when necessary.

‘the less time spent at a crime scene, the better.’

‘i enjoy the internet.’

‘did this guy have a family?’

‘there was never a moment i wasn’t scared of you.’

‘you’re just a small, sad man.’

‘maybe you only treated me so badly because someone else did the same thing to you.’

‘still, you can suck my dick.’

‘your shirt’s torn, what happened?’

‘honey, i need you to do something for me.’

‘the food wasn’t that great. stay away from the clams.’

‘you have chunks of people in your freezer.’

‘you can’t just leave.’

‘i can’t be here if the police come.’

‘don’t treat it like a placemat at chilli’s.’

‘do i miss the way things were? sometimes.’

‘i think, maybe i was the dead one.’

‘i got tazed. that’s cool.’

‘and so, unable to say ‘no’ to authority, the teenager stupidly went below the house.’

‘no, seriously, don’t pass out.’

‘my sense of humour can be a real jerk sometimes.’

‘you got an expensive habit, loverboy.’

‘how very retro.’

‘did you follow me home?’

‘i love you, and we have each other. everything else, we can figure out.’

‘what the fuck is this?’

‘it’s my fault. all of it.’

‘really? no one’s gonna argue that?’

‘sometimes i do feel overwhelmed. everywhere.’

‘do you ever feel like your best isn’t enough?’

‘i never feel like i’m doing enough.’

‘finally, something wonderful is happening.’

‘don’t give up on me.’

‘i hope you don’t mind my calling.’

‘i’m as single as a hummingbird moth at the end of june. they mate at the beginning of june. i like science. and moths.’

‘we just broke up.’

‘channeling my bloodlust is key.’

‘he’s thinking… he’s thinking… he knows he screwed up…’

‘you are my beautiful wife.’

‘i don’t wanna lay low.’

‘i wanna make my mark. i wanna shake shit up.’

‘by god, i’m gonna have an apple today.’

‘what am i gonna do with you?’

‘don’t you start.’

‘you need to stop.’

‘why don’t you make me, officer?’

‘you’re too impulsive.’

‘you’re right, it’s too dangerous.’

‘if anyone investigates his disappearance, they could find it.’

‘i’m in a fucking bad mood.’

‘are you sure he lived alone?’

‘i keep thinking about what could’ve happened.’

‘do you wanna talk about it?’

‘i’m sorry. i should’ve been there.’

‘you’re here now, so…’

‘we kinda hit it off, and they’ve been texting me to hang out, so…’

‘we’re breaking and entering right now.’

‘what a douchey move.’

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The comfortably furnished house had a sort of den-like aura which protected its inhabitants from the cold, as well as from the world outside the gates. Angela relaxed by degrees, clearing her mind and reasserting herself as a guard. There was nothing she could do to get rid of the American right now; the best utilization of her time, then, was continuing to do the job for which she had been selected. She managed to keep a straight face as he lodged his inquiry, and even when Ducard outlined the fact that he was in fact permitted to smoke on the premises and within the house, though he was liable for any damages. Cigarettes, she could handle. She had been known to fill her lungs with a little poison from time to time when her stress level was just too much. But cigars--they made her stomach turn. Fitting, then, that the American preferred them.

Over the course of the next several hours a whirlwind of introductions occurred. Ducard ensured that the American received a tour of the house--conveniently avoiding rooms that were not of his concern--and ensured that he was introduced to a seemingly never ending procession of important people within the organization. More than once a snide comment was slipped his way regarding how the finesse of the house and structure of the gang must feel so alien to him. For this, Angela felt a glint of empathy. He couldn’t be any more out of place if he tried; it must feel glaringly uncomfortable. That empathy lessened, however, with each puff of cigar smoke that wafted in her direction.

By the turn of the evening Angela was hard pressed to think of anyone of significance that had not introduced themselves to the American, complete with teeth-baring smiles and crushing handshakes. Even the mind-numbing task of simply guarding--from whom, it was never clear--was wearying after a time. It thus came as a relief when Ducard ceased the little tour in the very same room in which it had begun.

“I hope I heven’t overwhelmed you with too much at once,” he concluded. “A few parting notes. You will be issued a phone to use for our endeavors and you will routinely be required to give up that phone and receive a new one. Please keep your personal business to your personal devices. Due to the unsteady nature of any merger such as this, you have been assigned a... a sentinel for the purpose of your safety and protection.”

Ducard made eye contact with Angela and all at once her stomach soured. God damn it.

“Angela will accompany you on all of your ventures and remain close at hand at all times.”

#dustysixshooter

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Somehow Oliver neglected to mention that the man took the concept of the cowboy so seriously. There existed a small voice in the back of Angela’s mind that was already prepared to count this date out. Their two worlds would surely be incompatible, it insisted, and she was only wasting his time and hers. It was this small negativity, this doubtfulness, which sabotaged her relationships so reliably in the past. Particularly considering how long it had been since she’d last tried so much as going to dinner, it seemed that the voice was a touch more convincing than usual. But as they arrived at their booth she took a number of deep breaths to bring herself back into the moment. Not everything had to be about the best utilization of time, about perfection. Sometimes it was alright just to try and have fun.

Angela settled into the booth, smoothing her dress as she did. In the seconds before the waiter arrived at their table she watched him remove his hat and--well, to be honest, she didn’t know the term for the drape-thing. Poncho? That wasn’t right. Whatever it was, she consciously resisted the inclination to raise an eyebrow as he stood before her in casually formal attire. Somehow the effect was lost with the obviously well-loved articles of clothing. He possessed a sort of cleaned-up ruggedness which, when juxtaposed with the nicer clothing he’d selected for the night, created an attractive rougeish look. It certainly caught her attention.

“Angela Ziegler, and I have always just gone by Angela.”

In the next instant they were giving their drink orders, during which Angela ordered a nice bottle of wine for the table. She did not inquire as to the pricing of her selection, unconcerned as she was with it. She would be paying for it, of course. There was no sense in allowing anyone to pay for her when she truthfully made more money than she could spend on her own.

Alright. Conversation. No blood and guts, no sutures, no staples, no medical anomalies and no bodily functions. This was not work, and he was not a medical professional. Although this should come easily it took a moment of effort before her conversational brain could kick in.

“How do you know Oliver?”

#twotailshakes

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There was some relief in the fact that the American wasn’t particularly chatty. It saved her from having to endure senseless conversational meanderings of the sort Dupont loved so much. She could tune out his familiar voice, but the American’s low drawl wouldn’t fade to the back of her mind when he spoke. At least he didn’t seem keen on conversation with her, either. Angela would have thought that little introduction the end of it, if Dupont had not neglected to answer the American’s inquiry. Of course--a subtle insistence that she show their guest a little more attention.

“Russo.”

The man in question glanced back in the rear view mirror at his name, though he elected to focus on the road rather than participate in the discussion. This, Angela could not fault him for. His job was important, not only getting them from A to B but watching the roads for any sign of danger. There was scarcely a better driver for hundreds of miles; Angela would waver he was the best in the country, at least. This was in part due to his ability to stay focused and keep his eyes on the road.

Fortunately, Dupont had taken most of the drive time with his predictably verbose small talk. Russo took them up to the gates of a house just outside the city. It stood several stories tall, possessing a long driveway leading around the side. With a quick word into the intercom the gates swung outward, permitting the two SUVs to follow the driveway to the sizable garage. Dupont led once more, exiting the vehicle and beckoning McCree to follow into the house. Angela and Russo flanked behind.

“Since you’ll be working so closely with some of our most important and influential men, it has been determined that the best place for you to stay is our base of operations. I can assure you that you will be quite comfortable and that your needs will be promptly met. I hope you find this arrangement agreeable.”

#dustysixshooter

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It's Sinday! Bother my Muse with NSFW questions on or off anon!

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|| I’ll probably never finish this ||

Banshee Moira and Witch Mercy because I’m a little too excited.

@worldsbestdoc

#moicy #amoralgeneticist #i love this!

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my entry for the @pharmercyzine

#pharmercy

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Tightened up/ remixed this illustration from last year!

#pharmercy

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If there were to be no repercussions, what would you do to that troublesome, villainous, red-headed scientist?

Escort her to the nearest dumpster and give her a housewarming gif of matches and gasoline.

#because she's a dumpster fire of a woman #ic

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Angela didn't like strangers. Early on she had learned you were either in the family, or you weren't--and if you weren't, you weren't shit. At best, you were an inconvenience, an obstacle, a mark perhaps if you could be of value in some way. At worst, and not necessarily independently so, you were a threat. Many things in life were complicated, but this was not. It was as good as law.

Rarely did the Harbingers promote association with outsiders; generally the risk was just not worth it. When an exception was made it was for good reason, as in the case of Angela at seven years old, with her stealth and cleverness. After roughly twenty years of loyalty she trusted her leader's judgment. When the news of a merger reached her, however, she wasn't so apt to accept it.

They were fine. The Harbingers weren't a massive gang like some of the more famous ones, but they had everything they needed. They had power, plenty of territory, and they held local law enforcement in the palm of their hand. Angela didn't hesitate to voice her trepidation, but even with her considerable respect and status within the gang she could do nothing to change it. This would bring nothing but trouble, she was sure of it.

Arms crossed and expression stony, Angela stared down the American as he made contact with the tarmac. Dislike instantly curdled in her stomach, culminating in narrowed eyes and a curled lip. How fucking excessive. She had been so sure that the image of the American southerner in a stupid hat and oversized belt buckle was exaggerated; a caricature. This individual proved her wrong. Regardless of whether this was the norm in his culture, he looked ridiculous and ill-suited for the task at hand.

Monsieur Dupont took the lead on this one, thankfully. She was certain that she couldn't have maintained the necessary degree of civility. Still, with the American's response to what she thought was a perfectly fine greeting, she worked to rearrange her face into a mask of impassiveness. At Dupont's shoulder she followed to the idling vehicles, garnering from quick murmured instruction that she was meant to remain with Dupont and the American in the first SUV, along with Dupont's personal guard. Good; she was loathe to allow him out of her sight.

She settled into the luxurious leather interior alongside her superior and the stranger, both feet planted firmly on the floorboard. Despite her aversion to the situation her muscles were relaxed, her mind cool and calm. One wrong move and she would be in position to neutralize a threat.

Always a verbose man, Dupont made some attempt at conversation during the ride through the city. This was fine with Angela. It prevented her from having to socialize. She listened idly, gathering a mental picture of who the American really was. Then, with a gesture in her direction, Dupont continued "Forgive me, I have been monopolizing the conversation. This is Angela. A quicker wit, you'll never find, and her right hook is nothing to scoff at, either."

Well, fuck. Angela nodded in the American's direction. "Pleased to meet you."

She wasn't.

@worldsbestdoc | Mergers and Murderers

Was this going to be worth it?

That was the single thought that had echoed in Jesse McCree’s head during the entire flight across the Atlantic. Deadlock had sought to go intercontinental for a long time and recently, the big bosses had found an in into the European market. A gang called the Harbingers was willing to work with them. They were a small gang by comparison, based out of Zurich and looking to further their own power and influence. They saw a joint venture with an organization as capable as Deadlock as a surefire way to expand their own boundaries.

At least, that was what McCree presumed.

Regardless of motive, Deadlock and the Harbingers had settled on an agreement that the latter would be given a chance to operate in a new area coveted by Deadlock but only with Deadlock’s supervision. That was why McCree had left sunny Arizona for Zurich. He hadn’t liked it, but when the bosses told you to do something, you didn’t say no. As one of Deadlock’s top lieutenants, he would serve as their eyes and ears in Europe, to make sure this burgeoning partnership truly was worth it.

As he stepped off the plane and down the ladder to the tarmac, McCree pulled his coat tighter around him. It wasn’t even winter yet, but already the air was filled with a chill he was nowhere near used to. This damn well better be worth it.

McCree started towards a knot of people standing near tiny airport’s main building. Even from this far away he recognized one of them as Monsieur Ducard from the video conferences and planning meetings. The others he had no idea, but the blonde woman just behind Ducard’s shoulder was pretty if you ignored the fact her face looked like she’d just consumed curdled milk. 

As McCree came close, Ducard stepped forward and put his hand out. “Monsieur McCree, we are so pleased to have you with us. We are looking forward to working with Deadlock to our mutual benefit.”

McCree let his gaze wander across the unfamiliar faces. Each one was expressionless at best and openly dour at worst. “Coulda fooled me,” McCree replied.

Ducard chuckled. “Ignore them. Please, the car is this way.” He gestured in the direction of a pair of black SUVs and started off towards them.

#dustysixshooter #mergers and murderers

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My muse will be accepting 10 personal questions. All answered with 100% honesty.

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Sorry for the lack of activity :‘D 

SPEEDPAINT

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Things to Do in October: Starters

Send me a symbol for a thread or drabble in which the characters…

🎃 - carve Jack o’ Lanterns 🍁 - go on a scenic autumn walk 🔮 - see a fortune teller 👻 - tell ghost stories 👹 - go to a Halloween store 🕯 - perform a seance 🌽 - go through a corn maze 🌾 - go on a hayride 🌱 - go to a pumpkin patch 🍿 - have a Halloween movie marathon 🔪 - have a horror movie marathon 🍎 - go apple picking 🤡 - go to a haunted house attraction 🎭 - be actors at a haunted house attraction 🥕 - go to a farmer’s market 🔥 - have a bonfire 😱 - play scary slumber party games (Bloody Mary, the Midnight Game, etc…) 🎨 - do a craft  ☠ - visit a cemetery at night 🏈 - go to a football game 😈 - try on Halloween costumes 🌳 - take a drive to see the trees ⌛ - go to an antique store 👽 - talk about conspiracy theories 🌄 - go hiking ☔ - go on a rainy day walk 🥨 - make snacks for a party 🍬 - go shopping for Halloween candy 🍭 - hand out candy on Halloween 🥐 - cook some comfort food 😏 - play a scary prank 📚 - go to a library or bookstore 🎈 - plan a Halloween party together 🎉- attend a Halloween party together ☕ - go to a cozy cafe 📍 - sew homemade Halloween costumes 🎧 - listen to music together 🏚 - go poke around in a haunted location 🎪 - go to a creepy carnival 🏠 - sit at home by the fireside 🚂 - go on a scenic train ride 🍂 - rake leaves 🎫 - go on a tour of a spooky location 🍷 - go to a winery/brewery ⛺ - rent a cabin for the weekend 🏰 - spend the night in a spooky vacation spot

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Here’s a (significantly rotated ‘round) preview of my piece for the Moicy Zine! @moicyzine​

Pre-orders are open until November 15th~

#moicy