A Million Stories
M!A! You control Canadian Geese for 3 days! Enjoy!
Anonymous

darckcarnival:

"…"

"All shall suffer the wrath of deadly GEESE!"

"Welp, that’s that. Everybody go home an’ kiss yer butts goodbye, the apocalypse just arrived. S’been a good run, I’ll see you on the next run-through of reality maybe?"

Family Strings

infernalinquiries:

thatfreakingfennec:

"I dunno, I think I’d prefer to trade my soul if it were me." The fox laughs, turning the guitar around and offering it back - once it’s taken, he hauls himself up, righting himself and dropping down a level or so to sit more or less face to face (relatively speaking) with Mike.

"Though if it were me, I reckon they’d be tradin’ me stuff to not show up, so maybe I oughta threaten to turn up to a few sometime, see what kinda bribes I can scare up.” Notably, this tactic works on more than just devils - celestials, accountants, warrior-monks, and the Ludville Community Geology Society all react similarly.

"Why’d y’wanna learn, anyhow? Jus’ wanted to improve the ambience here or somethin’?"

Most people blush red or pink or something. Mike has the lucky privilege of going this interesting shade of brownish grey, instead. He is, of course, trying to hide it like any young man of 894 years would. Coughing in a manly sort of way, straightening his back and shoulders with all sorts of bravado, or whatever testosterone his rail-thin frame can find in its deepest recesses.

It ain’t working. ‘specially not since his voice fuckin’ cracks. “….Y-yeah.” He squeaks, shifting uncomfortably. He coughs again, and tries the much more effective method of shrinking and evading. “D-dad talks about you, and uh… court mishaps.”

"Did… did you really treat Beelzebub’s, uh… spy as a manservant? Like, outed him and, and got him offed just by, uh, by being unpredictable…."

"Sorta. I mean, s’not like I was tryin’ to do it, y’know? I just wanted a drink an’ someone to take my coat." Tai’s seen every single act there is when it comes to bravado, Mike’s fooling no one, but hey, let the kid have his hopes, right?

"Never actually did get my drink…"

Pointy End

ringtailedrascal:

"Holy heck Ah really truly didn’t mean to do that this time!" Kate hugs a (now bolt-free) crossbow to her chest, staring in wide-eyed… horror is the wrong word.

Shock may be more appropriate, but this implies that the thing she is staring at is new; it is not. She is, by this point, quite accustomed to seeing Tai with various pointed objects lodged into him in ways that ought to be fatal any minute now.

Surprised, in that jump-scare sort of way. Give her a moment, she’ll get over it. “Ah was just lookin’ for the trigger! Ain’t even meant to be pointin’ it off to the side, Ah din’t know it was that sensitive! Y’all, uh…. Y’all want somethin’ for the bleedin’?”

Tai stares down at the crossbow bolt sticking out of his stomach.

It’s not really a look of shock, or horror, or even particularly pain. More mild irritation.

"Well, this’s mildly unpleasant."

The remark’s light, somewhere between resigned and amused. He looks up, raising an eyebrow at the shocked Kate, smiling wryly at her. “I din’t know any better I’d say y’like this more’n you wanna admit.”

"Dammit, I jus’ cleaned this shirt too."

Family Strings

infernalinquiries:

thatfreakingfennec:

He doesn’t question why the devil knows his name.

Most devils know Tai’s name. A lot of them have his autograph.

A few of the cuter ones have it in interesting places.

The guitar’s taken with all the reverence an instrument deserves, fox grinning broadly like the cocky asshole he is. “Yeah, I do that. Y’should see the look on one’a my bosses’ faces when I pull it on her, she’s used to doin’ it to other folks, s’priceless.”

He takes a moment to check the guitar’s tuning - it sounded fine, but hey, sudden fall, best to be certain. It gets an experimental strum, and the ever so slightest tweak of a knob, and a second strum - it doesn’t, really, sound any different, but well. Who are you going to trust, the devil or the guy with the ears to put sonar listening stations to shame?

"Ain’t heard y’playin’ ‘fore now. Picked it up new, or jus’ ain’t had the guitar till now?"

Mike swings himself up with a sheepish laugh, sitting as before - almost. One foot’s propped up in front of him, so he can rest an elbow on his knee, easy as a guy sitting on the ground might. His ear twitches at the strumming, but… well, the sonar stations haven’t gone unnoticed - he chooses not to comment.

Instead, he scratches awkwardly behind his neck, and fails to make Tai’s gaze, tail curling up in a spiral below him. “Well…. y’know.” He admits, guiltily. “Pacting sorta runs in the family an’ I thought, well, my sister’d work it out for me if I could get her outta having to stand around in court with dad for a bit. Not like she can damn my soul….”

"It’s only a couple meetings with bureaucrats - worth guitar lessons."

"I dunno, I think I’d prefer to trade my soul if it were me." The fox laughs, turning the guitar around and offering it back - once it’s taken, he hauls himself up, righting himself and dropping down a level or so to sit more or less face to face (relatively speaking) with Mike.

"Though if it were me, I reckon they’d be tradin’ me stuff to not show up, so maybe I oughta threaten to turn up to a few sometime, see what kinda bribes I can scare up.” Notably, this tactic works on more than just devils - celestials, accountants, warrior-monks, and the Ludville Community Geology Society all react similarly.

"Why’d y’wanna learn, anyhow? Jus’ wanted to improve the ambience here or somethin’?"

Family Strings

infernalinquiries:

thatfreakingfennec:

Guitar tends to get Tai’s attention.

Especially good guitar.

Coming from the rafters is new, too.

So, it’s really little wonder that Mike’s got company. Not company he knows about, yet - Tai’s teleportation has decided to be nice, today - but company all the same.

A foot’s casually bobbing to the music, which is probably a bad idea given that, for whatever inexplicible reason the fennec has (read: no reason at all) he’s hanging upside down. Still, he hasn’t fallen (yet), so.

"Y’ain’t half bad, huh kid. Ain’t tryin’ that hard neither, looks like."

Yes Tai, because random comments from places nobody is supposed to be are good ideas.

"WAUGH.” Well the music stops. (Mike doesn’t fall, though. Prehensile tail and all. Good show, tail!)

I mean, he’s upside-down, now, but his skull hasn’t hit the ground and the guitar isn’t broken, he mostly just looks a little dazed as his feet grab a hold of his up-until-recently perch.

Mike fixes Tai with a bemused, dazed sort of grin and nods in that ‘where the fuck did you come from okay run with it’ sort of way that people that don’t want to admit they’ve been snuck up on often adopt, and waves his free hand. “H’llo, Tai.”

"…Could, you, um…" He holds the instrument out. "I, uh. Didn’t see you there."

He doesn’t question why the devil knows his name.

Most devils know Tai’s name. A lot of them have his autograph.

A few of the cuter ones have it in interesting places.

The guitar’s taken with all the reverence an instrument deserves, fox grinning broadly like the cocky asshole he is. “Yeah, I do that. Y’should see the look on one’a my bosses’ faces when I pull it on her, she’s used to doin’ it to other folks, s’priceless.”

He takes a moment to check the guitar’s tuning - it sounded fine, but hey, sudden fall, best to be certain. It gets an experimental strum, and the ever so slightest tweak of a knob, and a second strum - it doesn’t, really, sound any different, but well. Who are you going to trust, the devil or the guy with the ears to put sonar listening stations to shame?

"Ain’t heard y’playin’ ‘fore now. Picked it up new, or jus’ ain’t had the guitar till now?"

Family Strings

infernalinquiries:

He’d taught himself guitar in record time - helps when you can pact with your sister and bargaining chips were boring court meetings. He just had to sit in on a few she really didn’t want to attend and he was wicked with an acoustic now.

Mike’s taken to playing it in the rafters during breaks, tail hanging one way over the cross-beams, feet the other. No one ever seemed to mind. Today, his music’s lazy, some vague moseying stroll from string-to-string, the sort of idle tune that’s easy to whistle to -  Mike’s fangs get in the way.

Someone down below’ll pick up on the hint sooner or later, though.

Guitar tends to get Tai’s attention.

Especially good guitar.

Coming from the rafters is new, too.

So, it’s really little wonder that Mike’s got company. Not company he knows about, yet - Tai’s teleportation has decided to be nice, today - but company all the same.

A foot’s casually bobbing to the music, which is probably a bad idea given that, for whatever inexplicible reason the fennec has (read: no reason at all) he’s hanging upside down. Still, he hasn’t fallen (yet), so.

"Y’ain’t half bad, huh kid. Ain’t tryin’ that hard neither, looks like."

Yes Tai, because random comments from places nobody is supposed to be are good ideas.

Ink -Something’s Gotta Stop The Flow…

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tearzah:

things that make me happy:

  • people being interested in my ocs
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  • people drawing my ocs
  • People wasting their time , on my ocs. thank you
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