#rundola has a boring fashion sense and just looks like that

[confusedreety]

i made myself a modern!au for my children where i dont TORTURE THEM INCESSANTLY (which as it turns out is just marcey’s regular universe)

Grimma

university student, majoring in English, may or may not live under a bridge? Likes to read and write horror (and embarrassing poetry). Takes an unnecessary amount of Philosophy courses even though he hates it cause alfred is a sexy sexy TA. Nat and Rundola found him on the side of the road one night, and took him home like a gross lil lost puppy and patched him up. Now he won’t stop showing up unannounced and eating all the cereal out of the pantry. Nat maintains helping him was the worst mistake of her life, cause he’s so annoying. Rundola tolerates him like a weird tired uncle would, and asks for him to at least leave him the shreddies. Marcey thinks he’s tons of fun though.

Nat

Nat’s what happens when your doctor never quite outgrows their middle school goth phase. She’s a surgeon at the university hospital, where she practices medicine and (much to everyone’s horror) teaches med students. Originally worked in private practice, but eventually took the university position after taking a break to help rundola. Her and Rundola eventually end up together. Friends with marcey, and is always jazzed to hear about her fish adventures.

Rundola

ex-military doctor who went into general practice. he probably drinks too much coffee. He had to take early retirement after ptsd symptoms and depression made it very difficult for him to continue in the modern medical field; now he does part-time consulting and starts doing much better. his house may or may not be a little haunted. insomniac. just sighs when he finds grimma eating his cereal in the dark at 2am. doesn’t let nat’s dog sleep on the bed cause artie stares at him and it creeps him out.

(tagging @gelertassassin for that grimma content)

some silly writing and junk under the cut

(inspired by the frozen fruit i was eating. not edited, just word vomit. maybe will finish??)

“Thanks for the bowl of half-frozen fruit.”

Grimma gingerly chewed at the partly soggy chunk of mango at the end of his fork. While he was grateful for the food, and the cold fruit helped to ease the throbbing in his jaw, he couldn’t keep the sarcasm from leaking into his words. The gesture felt half-hearted. And, to be honest, mangoes were really in the bottom tier of frozen fruit. He felt for sure that his host had deliberately picked much of the other fruit out of the bag—the presence of a single strawberry clearly evidenced the existence of non-mango fruits--leaving the orange-yellow chunks for an unfortunate guest.

“Whatever. Don’t mention it,” Grimma’s host waved her hand in dismissal.  He tried to remember her name; the Doc had introduced her before he’d gone out, he was sure…Natasha? Grimma observed the pale purple Lupe, with her blonde curls and sharp eyes, trying to match face to name. Yes, it was definitely Natasha. Had to be. He nodded to himself in affirmation and chewed another mango chunk. ‘Natasha’ soon returned to tapping away at her laptop computer at the far dining table. From his makeshift bed on the living room sofa, Grimma could barely make out the titles of the heavy books piled beside her. This did not, however, mean he could understand them. Impakttrauma und Schenkel...Schenkelhalsfrakturen? Yeah. Exactly. Whatever that means, she was clearly into it. You do you, girl.

Grimma sighed and finished off his fruit, and tried to organize his scattered memories into a coherent timeline. The haze form last night and the painkillers had lifted from his brain, letting him think clearly again. He remembered The Cleric, the bridge, the road...Doc and Natasha. A car, begging them not to bring him to a hospital, that there was no one they could call for him. What a stroke of luck, Grimma thought, that he’d been picked up by a doctor. He wondered if he’d be dead if it’d been anyone else. His wounds were all patched up, stitches, bandages and all. His bones, he’d learned that morning, had been set. Yes, if anyone else had listened to his idiotic pleas he’d probably be dead. Why they had, however, was beyond him. He hadn’t even been questioned yet. Grimma felt suspicious, suddenly. Were they going to harvest his organs or something? Is that why they’d done all this? Oh my god. Please let my kidneys still be in my body. I need my kidneys.

The sound of the front door opening interrupted Grimma from his internal panicking. He heard bags being set on the floor, and the jingle of keys being hung, and bags picked back up. The Doc must be home. In the dining room, Natasha left her work and met the Doc in the foyer. Grimma couldn’t make out their indistinct converstation. A moment later, though, the two were back in the room with him. Grimma eyed them cautiously now.

“Grimma, how are you feeling?” The Doc, a dark haired camouflage Krawk, smiled tiredly, “I hope Natalie didn’t treat you too badly.”

Natalie? Shit. Well, thank god I didn’t call her Natasha instead. Grimma thought, and glanced awkwardly at Natalie.

“Uh, I’m…fine.”

“Wonderful,” the Doc nodded and turned to Natalie, and spoke in a low voice, “can you change his bandages while I prepare the solution…?”

“It may not work, Rundola,” Natalie’s brows knit together, “are you sure?”

Oh, wow. Rundola? I’m bad with names—wait, WHAT? WHAT THE FUCK DOES THAT MEAN? Grimma felt his chest seize with panic. Natalie and Rundola murmured amongst themselves, but Grimma couldn’t focus enough to make out their words. He jolted upright as Rundola left the room, which he immediately regretted, as pain shot through his back and ribs.

“PLEASE DON’T TAKE MY KIDNEYS!”

Natalie blinked in surprise, and fixed him with a bewildered and scornful look. His outburst had brought Rundola back into the room as well. The Krawk, in contrast, looked at him with genuine concern.

“What? Grimma, we don’t want your kidneys,” Rundola reassured Grimma. He came and knelt beside the sofa, worry on his face. “We talked about this this morning…do you not remember?” he asked carefully.

___

marcey thinks all her friends’ romantic interests are weird

.****

nat: i dont have a type

marcey: depressed old men

nat: 

****

grimma: this is alfred, i love him

alfred: //says that Weird Shit//

marcey: //looks into the camera like shes on the office//

***

whenever i think of this au that kim mitchell song thats like lets go for a soda where nobody drowns and nobody diiiiiesss plays in my head