Hello, all! Welcome to the Cottage, I hope you enjoy your stay!
General
Request Status: Open
Get to know me!
     You can call me Renza. I am a legal adult. I am a pagan witch, as well as a writer and artist.
What is this blog?
     This blog is mainly a spot for me to post my writing, though I also will reblog posts relating to whatever my interest at the time is, and occasionally posting about my struggles and/or experiences with mental health
Sideblog: @niophredil-14
Pop into my inbox for a chat! I donât bite c:
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The Fortuneteller (Info on Tarot Readings)
Current Fandoms and Characters
(These are the fandoms that I currently accept requests for, however there are more fandoms that I am not currently writing for but have previously written for located on my masterlist.)
i should really start reading fanfics about the female creeps because why is my bisexual ass only reading about the men. i want pussy. iâm mad as hell at myself now.
Jason The Toymaker | Jason Oliver Meyers/GN!Reader - Poppet
The rapt of his knuckles against the bedroom door yielded no response, and so after another attempt, the red-haired man called out.
"Are you in there, my treasure?" Silence again. A crease appeared between Jason's furrowed brows, he tried the door handle, and the hinges creaked as the wood gave way. The light was off, remedied quickly by Jason flicking the switch as he entered the room. The bedroom held the very essence of his beloved. From their scent to their aesthetic, and everything in between, all he saw as he gazed around their space was a reflection of them, all but one item. The small, poorly made doll sat upright against their pillows, and even though it was clear that its maker was no master of the craft, anyone with half a good eye could tell who it was meant to resemble. Jason made his way over to the bed, his original objeective forgotten as he reached for the doll.
Picking it up, he held it carefully in his hands, gentle as he turned it over, as though the slightest wrong tug would send it. His eyes were wide in awe, honor, and confusion. The long red hair was messily sewn in, and with no clear part to it, something Jason could tell even with the doll's hat still resting on its head. The button eyes, polished with what he could only imagine must have been a clear top coat of nail polish, shined almost as brightly as his. Jason held the doll in one hand, and with his touch as light as a feather, he dragged his index finger along the wonky, uneven pinstripes of the matching corset-vest and hat, a smile sneaking its way upon his face.
"Jason? What are you doing in here?" A voice called out, causing the tall man to slowly turn around, his honey eyes swimming with joy as his gaze met theirs.
"Oh, hello, dear." Jason grinned as he replied. "Me? Why I'm just admiring the craftsmanship." There was a slight teasing tone to his voice, but both parties knew that there was no real bite to it. His lover's face burned as bright as teh sun in embarrassment. "Did you make this?" Jason asked. Their eyes widened, they bit their bottom lip and turned away.
"Just," They began. "Just put him down please." They muttered. Jason's eyebrows shot sky high in entertainment.
"'His?'" Jason asked, which he quickly followed up with a guffaw. "Here you have the real deal, and you're more concerned about a miniature doll version of him!"
"Jason, please! I'm embarrassed enough as it is, just put it down!" They exclaimed, and the ususally cold-hearted devil softened, his eyelids falling lightly. He gently put the doll back in its place and made his way over to his lover, taking them in his arms, and holding them tight.
"I'm sorry to tease you, my treasure. I really like him."
"Don't patronize me, Jason." they said, the words dripping bitter from their tongue.
"My love, I am not patronizing you," Jason attempted to defend himself, only to be cut off.
"You are. You have to be. It's nowhere as good as any of yours, you can see I don't have any talent." They said, pressing their forehead against the redhead's chest. Jason brought a hand to the baxk of their head, petting lovingly.
"I love him because you made him. You made something of me. You must care for me greatly to go to such trouble." Jason said, his voice as smooth and warm as his irises. "But if you were so concerned about the skill or quality of doll-making, why not just ask me to make one for you? You know I'd be more than happy to."
They sighed at Jason's statement. It would be humiliating, but they would have to come clean.
"I know how important your work is to you, it's practically your whole life, and I would never want to take away from that. Your dedication is one of the things that I love most about you, but I get lonely sometimes. I miss you when you lock yourself away in your workshop for days on end, and wanted something of you to hold so that I could feel you near. I wanted to make it because you make toys, and I thought if I could see and understand your work, I might understand you better. i thought it might make me feel closer to you."
The lean man with the amber eyes could feel his heart almost shatter. His darling, his partner, his beloved, his whole world, had been put under the impression that they came in second place to any other part of his life, and that was not something that he could stand for.
"Oh, my dearest." He cooed, using his index and thumb to pull at their chin, forcing their eyes to meet his. "Interrupt me anytime. You are the light of my life, and there is nothing with which I would rather fill my time." He graced them with a large smile, one full of love, and continued. "In fact, why don't you come with me to my workshop tomorrow. I'll teach you, we can even make a miniature version of you so that my mini-self doesn't get lonely when I steal you away from him." Jason offered. "How about that, hm, treasure?"
The kiss they pulled him into was all the response he needed.
Does anyone have any good homicidal liu audios for tiktok? I made a liu woods scarf and now I wanna cosplay him. Or laughing jack, a striped scarf could probs be used for both
Would u do a enemies to lovers with toby? Pretty please?
Honestly Iâm no good at enemies to lovers so the best I can give you is some headcanons of whatâs more like rivals to enemies I am writing after some shots of vodka and some weed. Sorry itâs so half assed
Enemies(more like rivals) to lovers with Toby headcanons
- youâre probably a new proxy, one who was a little too good at their job and showing up Toby a bit more than he would have liked. He may screw up a lot but heâs still the golden boy and heâs not willing to lose that
- turns everything into a competition, whoâs ready for a mission first, who got more kills, who had messier kills, and so on.
- you two would probably wind up having physical fights, even outside of sparring and training, which would eventually lead to some serious hatefucking.
- this hatefucking would probably lead to a relationship after Toby got a little too jealous of someone else and confronted you, telling you how his feelings developed after yall started fucking.
-happily ever after or some shit idk man this sucks but I donât know how to drop grudges so Iâm safe from this trope
Imagine sitting in his lap as he games, you crochet, passing the joint back and forth until your brain is all fuzzy and it feels like youâre in the matrix, and youâre all entranced in how quick his avatar is moving, until you need to recount the stitches in your row and frog the past four rows. Goddamnit BEN
Mmmm... creep finding their s/o's room of fish....
Like fish tanks. Beautiful plants and perfect water, full of beautiful variations of fish.
I specifically wish for BEN and Toby but you can add whoever.
Oooh fun! My uncle used to have an exotic fish tank and I would spend so much time just staring at them whenever I went to visit him between xmas and New Years!! Gods, I haven't thought about that in ages, thanks for the throwback!
Ticci Toby | Toby Rogers and B.E.N. Drowned Finding Their S/o's Aquarium room
Ticci Toby | Toby Rogers
Toby is a lover of all animals, exotic too. The man is in heaven, or as close to heaven as he'll get after what he's done. I see it as being highly likely that Toby would end up having your aquarium room turn into one of his very few safe spaces, and you are highly likely to find him crouching in a corner of the room just staring at one of the tanks and all the beautiful lights and decor in said tank. It's a very visually soothing thing for him.
If your fish don't already have names, they sure do now! And Toby probably spends so much time in your aquarium room that he can tell the difference between your identical pair of angel fish, "Angelina" and "Castiel" simply based off of their personalities.
(Come at me for that SPN reference, I dare you /lh /t /j)
These fish are his friends now, and I can easily see him trying to study the most he ever has in his life to learn all about fish and how to care for them. How much space they need, what kinds of fish should and shouldn't be placed near each other, specialty foods, all the works. Those are his babies now too.
And don't be too surprised if your school keeps growing, because if Toby is sent on a job, and sees that the victim has fish that won't be attended to after he's done? Nope. Not happening. He's already digging through their pantry, kitchen, and shed for something to bring the fish back with him, even if you don't have room for them.
B.E.N Drowned
(Full disclosure, I am just recently doing my research on the difference between B.E.N and Ben Drowned. i got the basics, but until I am more confident in my understanding and judgement, I will be molding them together, but BEN is an adult here, or as adult as a computer virus can get.)
BEN hates this room and finding it for the first time probably ruined his high and sent him into some kind of panic attack. If Jeff knows about this spot he will definitely bring BEN here while he's the glitch's trip-sitter.
BEN might be able to acclimate and lear to tolerate your aquarium room if you have mostly saltwater fish, but if he sees a single freshwater fish, especially any of the ones he saw during 'the incident,' that twinky little elf is BOLTING. Especially a bowfish or catfish.
BEN will do his best to avoid that room, but you will frequently see zelda (specifically zora) themed decor placed in your amazon cart, as well as a little extra money in your account.
He will also buy you your own zora themed gifts, knowing your love of fish.
If he's having a good high and you're there with him, holding him, and the lights are giving off a nice vibe with some chill music, it could be some great therapy for him, helping him overcome his aquaphobia. On the other hand, though, if he's having a bad trip, this could send him over the edge, and he would disappear into his monitors for a week, at least
ᴺᴟᾠᴞᴸᴏáľá´ľá´şá´ł : Your biggest fan
> or, it seems some of the creeps have gotten a secret admirerâŚ
> Warnings: Canon typical description of violence, suggestive (idk man everyoneâs a little pervy)
> Including: Jeffrey Woods, Ben Drowned, Nina Hopkins, Brian Thomas x gn!stalker!reader
âť â II ⡠âş
Jeffrey Woods
No matter how smart you started off, or how carefully you treaded, he caught onto you quick.
The thought of killing you did pass his mind, admittedly. Sure, at best you proved as free amusement, but at worst you could stand between him getting off scott free. You were risk. Chance thrown into a safe routine heâd slipped into, a challenge to mowing down body after body.
Iâd be lying if I didnât mention that was part of the appeal.
He ABSOLUTELY gets off on it.
That someone like you âotherwise normal, someone heâd usually label as a victimâ was not just able, but willing to follow him down whatever fucked up path he was set on that evening. That someone so average was hiding such a perverse fascination with his craft.
The periods where he knows youâre there, just outside whatever house heâd broken into, heâs far more messy.
He puts on a show for his most adoring fan, as he sees it. Their faces left carved open, gore left splayed out and modelled, maybe even a message written on the walls if he felt so generous. The perfect scene left behind for your collection of polaroids.
Itâs only after you go so far as to take a souvenir from him that he cuts the game of cat and mouse and confronts you. Heâs not above showing off, but anyone who touches his shit usually leaves with one less finger. Or hand.
Of course, he made an exception for his favorite little fan.
Your first âdateâ as he calls it, is front row seats to his work. I said before he got off on the idea of someone so unassuming being so deranged when they thought no one noticed, but that was a half truth.
What he really got off on was the idea of you being led into becoming even worse. That youâd succumb to that fascination just like he did. That he could convince you, not just to trust in him, but towards corrupting yourself entirely. That youâd leave that normalcy behind for him.
You would, eventually. Heâd lead you to your first kill, one he monologues over while you held the knife.
âItâs not just him youâre killingâ Heâd guide your hand lower, closer the man oblivious to you.
âThat old self⌠that weak person you were, before meâ of courseâ He would laugh, dry and unhinged in his euphoria.
âBefore you committed yourself to becoming even better.â
And you would. You already dug the grave afterall, someone has to lay in it.
Ben Drowned
It was an entirely innocent mistake. Or, at least, thatâs what it looked like to him upon first impressions.
You werenât skittish or paranoid. Not hollowed by sleep and already scared of what lurked beyond your knowledge. All things considered, heâd almost say youâd looked deeply pleased upon seeing the Majoraâs Mask title screen.
How were you supposed to know the cartridge was haunted? That the prompts you were getting back werenât normal? That there was someone, on the other side of the screen, watching you?
You were supposed to be a run-of-the-mill psychological torture for Ben, you were.
You werenât supposed to take analogue notes of every time he fucked up your PC. To coo in response to his very genuine threats on your life. Or search about ways to piss him off more so that you were sure heâd come back.
To him, all mortals were weird. Heâd been dead for so long heâd forgotten what fear was beyond his own death. But horror movie logic (or any logic, for that matter) skipped over any part where youâd respond how you did.
Egging him on, to fuck up your tech even more. Tempting him to get sloppy, to forget what affairs he can anticipate canât interfere with. Talking to him, learning when he was there, worshipping his presence. Changing in front of your webcam, knowing it was on.
Things only got⌠weirder the further he looked back at your search history. Pages upon pages of research and questions and websites about him. Even with what little credible information there was, he couldâve sworn you scoured all of it. And now youâd finally caught his attention, and you were giddy.
For a while, a long while, he didnât do much with your connection to him. Heâd hit your line for company, taking amusement in how youâd immediately drop whatever you were doing for him. Revel in your obsession, in your dependence, for someone who was so unattached.
It gave him agency, control over something real. It got to his head. The amusement to your need for him became an equally strong possession to your attention.
He only stops being a voyeur because he gets tired of the screen between you. Images were all well and good, but you were infuriatingly no responsive. Pretending not to notice that little blinking red light, going about your days and nights pretending you didnât have an observer. Teasing him, tempting him. Innocent mistakes one after another after another. Just goading him to do something to you.
And do something he did.
One by one your contacts stop working.
Your inboxes close and the contacts are deleted.
Your computerâs interface is replaced with one he coded just for you.
The webcams never turn off. Even if you do cover them, the cameras cover enough of your house heâs never without you.
And yes, the captures from his recordings do take up a folder in his own computer.
Nina Hopkins
Mutual stalking is SOO in for the summer, or for hers, at least.
The second she realizes she has a stalker (and a cute one at that) she is committed to out doing you.
Nina already lacks a clear understanding of whatâs normal in a romantic relationship. Her entire new life came to be from the idol worship of someone who she hardly knew.
In fact, as far as sheâs concerned, this is entirely normal! It is normal to leave gifts for your crush isnât it? You must be a little shy. Sheâll just have to help you.
You miss a mission of hers? No worries, a stack of photos are left on your night stand within the hour.
Trying to follow her? Of course sheâll start going down narrower roads to force you closer. No need to be shy.
You take her clothes? Awe, you shouldâve told her you wanted to trade! Sheâll just help herself to some of yours.
Oh whatâs that? You want more photos? Things of hers? Theyâre left on top of your bed tied up in a bow.
You are the photo on her lock screen, in her phone case, and the poster on her wall. The trinkets sheâs pocketed from her trips to your room occupy a small box she keeps in her nightstand. Itâs all too valuable to throw away.
She pushes off missions and assignments in favor of taking a day to just⌠bask in you. Sheâs never far behind, just taking notes. Nothing harmful about that, right? Sheâs just trying to be a good girlfriend! Thereâs nothing odd in memorising your coffee order, or your usual paths around town, or the list of people you interact with.
Sheâs absolutely killed for you before. That touchy guy on the train? Oh donât worryâ Itâs not like heâll be sorely missed. Well, his hands will be sorely missed by him, but thatâs his price to pay.
Sheâll leave notes on the pictures you have of her, noting which ones she likes the most and adding ones of you. Her favorites include the ones where youâre behind her and canât tell sheâs taking a photo. Or when she finds you reading up about her.
Itâll eventually escalate to the point where you come home after work and sheâs just taking a nap. Neither of you are surprised to see each other. Sheâs moved in within the week.
Brian Thomas
Well arenât you just the cutest thing? Thinking youâre so smart following him, so sneaky breaking in and taking what you want.
He was stalking you long before you took note of him. âChanceâ after âchanceâ encounter until you noticed him, until you latched onto him. He knew you well enough to know how to bait you into it, to get you comfortable making him uncomfortable.
For months leading up to the first time you even saw him he was obsessed in the details. How exactly youâd react, how guilty youâd look the first time youâd tail him, whether or not youâd leave half way though, that youâd still come back.
Itâs damn near euphoric when you actually do. Itâs payoff for so long of holding himself back, salvation for every sin it took to get there. Heâs addicted, after the first time. Even though he had the whole thing planned, youâd still find some way to impress him.
Like how you managed to follow him the whole way home the first time you joined him. Or the first time you installed a camera without him noticing. And especially with how unbothered you were, like it were second nature to you.
Heâll play oblivious, for your sake. Leaving his truck unlocked, clothes easy to grab, gone for long periods of time. Enough for you to feel safe being bolder, but not too long to raise a question in that wonderful head of yours.
Oblivious, but not sloppy.
Youâre too enraptured in your successes of following him and breaking into his car to notice the cameraâs still recording. Or the tracker sewn into the clothes you stole.
He just canât help himself. Youâre too cute when you think youâve one upped him. Thinking youâd got away with it.
The footage he collects of you is kept on a hard drive he keeps on him everywhere. Heâs just as pleased as you were to break in while watching them back. He runs over every sigh and muttered word, finding a deep enjoyment putting pressure on his chest.
His sweet, sweet dolly finding the same enjoyment watching after him as heâs been doing for nearly a year. Heâd known youâd have so much in common after meeting you that first time. You really were perfect for him.
Natalie who puts on a front of indifference, but is so soft when the two of you are alone.
Natalie who's favorite way to wind down after a rough mission is to pull you into the shower with her, drag you to bed, stick her head upnder your shirt and rest it right on your chest, so much so that it feels like her face is being held by your breasts.
Natalie who is jealous and overprotective to a fault. Her jealousy comes through more when she sees you talking to other women, especially mascs who seem to live normal, non-slasher lives. Her overprotectiveness mostly comes out with men that think its appropriate to stand a bit too close to you and openly flirt.
Natalie who shows her love for you more than she says it.
Natalie who welds you flowers and makes you jewelry, and who fixes things around your home before you even notice its broken.
Natalie who, even after everything that happened to her, still loves to draw, and has a small box under her bed filled with sketches of you.
Natalie who is a thigh woman, and would die happily between your legs. But not as happy as she would die from laying on her back and letting you grind on her face as she sucks on your clit.
Natalie who idolizes you. You're her Queen, and she lives to serve, even if her words don't always give off that energy.
I think we need to make eyeless Jack more feral.. more demon like in bed⌠he would NOT be doin missionary, he wants us in a mating press, doggy style, or even up against some wall guysâŚ
I also think we should embrace eyeless Jack with multiple dihsâŚ
I just began worshipping Lord Leviathan after a couple months of studying, and wanted to share (with his permission), the prayer I wrote for him. Iâm new to this so please be nice đ
Imagine not knowing that (Yandere!) Butters is Professor Chaos. The two of you get into a big fight and you break it off with him, only to be kidnapped by Professor Chaos days later. Chaos is cruel and neglectful. One small meal a day, limited light, classic tactics of breaking someoneâs mind, only for (Yandere!) Butters to show up just after you start to become desperate, saving you and taking you home, apologizing for upsetting you and promising to protect you from any and all danger. And promising to himself that youâll never need to know that he is, in fact, Professor Chaos
surprisingly not super angsty, in my opinion. but like, beware.
reader is implied to be transmasc(its sort of mentioned) reader is suicidal and talks about it. jeff kills them! you die in this!! please dont read if you dont like that!! its my coping and we arent on cinemasins yk.
tw for.. yk, all of that.
655 words, jeff the killer x reader
taglist: @lovergirlfinalboss
death itself isnt something to be dreaded.
the aftermath, thats the scary part.
will your mother blame something innocent? will your father cry? will someone say that if the delusions had been snuffed out before you had cut your hair and called yourself a diffferent name, that you would still be there?
a plauge of thoughts haunts the mind, if death is on it.
pain is scary too.
will you suffer when you die? if you take those pills will you feel yourself choke? if you reach that vein will you regret it only for the sting?
the psas dont work, that dude was just a puss who chose a bad way to die.
the best way to die is in your sleep, in the arms of a loved one, to be buried by hands that knew you, as you. not as some girl whos a bit too much like barbie.
"you're sure," jeff took your chin in his hand, making you keep eye contact with him. "like, really, really sure?"
"im sure," you leaned up to hug his neck.
jeff wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you up to your feet and pulling you back towards a chair. his face in your neck, the scarring around his mouth dug into your skin abrasively, the scabs were sharp and painful.
"your cuts are sort of like a beard," you mumbled, "get sharp every little bit."
"i'll fix my face before i do anything," jeff said into your skin.
it was dull, an odd sensation, the drugs made everything mostly numb. but the pressure was there, the knife dragging and cutting over your shoulders and chest.
jeff looking over you on the floor, dragging a knife from shoulder to wrist.
"mh" jeff kissed over the bleeding gashes, his face was splattered with blood. "i love you."
you couldnt move, you couldnt feel any of your limbs. you couldnt speak or cry or think clearly at all.
jeff picked up the limp body before him, holding onto your bleeding form, wrapping you in a jacket to keep you somewhat warm, it was a nice sentiment, but he knew you couldnt feel it.
"dont cry," jeff pressed his nose into your hair, "its going away soon, you're going away."
your hands had gone fully cold when jeff stood up, carefully avoiding security cameras while he carried you out of your house and towards the woods. no one looked in the woods anymore.
"stay here baby," he mumbled, setting you down carefully on a blanket he'd laid out to mark the spot where he'd dig your grave.
it was a pretty place, wisteria grew around the trees, there was the sound of a creek and a small waterfall not to far away, and it was far enough from the asylum that you wouldnt get pulled up as a ghost.
once a hole was dug, jeff pulled himself up. "you're so pretty," he sighed, "prettiest corpse i've ever seen. and i killed that supermodel bitch in her prime."
he set you down in the hole carefully, covering you with the blanket, and putting your cd player down there on repeat with the cd you'd burned for the occation. it'd play till the cd player died.
listening to the music while he covered the body with dirt, he started thinking.
was there regret? was there fear? had the drugs wore off after he'd started and you couldnt speak? had you suffered more by his hand than gained?
the eye of god was all you wanted to mark your grave, wedged between a few rocks and the dirt, jeff looked at it. his work wasnt as good as you had ever done, blue twine around two uneven sticks didnt make a very pretty headstone. that was his fault though.
"sweet dreams, baby." jeff mumbled. pulling up his hood while he looked down at the freshly rowed soil. "did i do good?"
