#bullet drop compensator

[historyofguns]

The article "What Is an ACOG?" by Will Dabbs, MD, published on July 10, 2024, on The Armory Life, provides an in-depth overview of the Advanced Combat Optical Gunsight (ACOG) developed by Trijicon. Introduced in 1987, the ACOG revolutionized tactical optics with its prismatic telescopic design, initially created for the M16 and M4 rifles, featuring a fixed 4x32 magnification in its earliest TA01 model. The sight was designed to be nearly indestructible and included innovations like tritium illumination for low-light conditions, although these elements have a lifespan of about 10-15 years. The versatility of the ACOG, which includes variations such as bullet drop compensating reticles and models integrating micro red dots, has made it a favorite among military personnel in various combat situations. Dabbs shares personal reflections on the ACOG's performance, highlighting its precision and effectiveness at various ranges, exemplified by his experience using an early TA01 model. Despite its high cost—ranging from about $1,200 to $2,485—the quality and reliability of the ACOG continue to make it a sought-after device for tactical use.

[lotties-ashwagandha]

LET IT BLEED AWAY BETWEEN US

(adult) lottie matthews x fem!reader.

she shows up at your door… (inspired by season three episode 2 babyyyyyy I wrote this at 4 fucking in the morning earlier bc I couldn’t sleep enjoy please read to compensate my suffering). read part two here.

“So,” you start, unsure of how to begin. “How was it?”

Lottie blinks. “The mental institution?”

You were better off not asking.

“It was fine,” she answers in a dull tone. She sits across from where you stand as she occupies your armchair — in your living room, which she has infiltrated and made herself at home in. “It’s been worse.”

She’s told you before, stories of all she has endured. You sit very straight, unsure exactly of how to proceed — it hasn’t been long since you last saw her, but there is a gap between the two of you already, and even in such a short amount of time the two of you have changed. She no longer has her wellness center to lead, you no longer follow her in it. You have been thrusted back into the real world — real dangers accompany it.

“You have a nice place here,” Lottie gestures around your living room. “I’m surprised you could get a hold of it so quickly.”

Your old house you had lived in before moving into the wellness center. You’ve had it on the market for a while, but no one has put in an offer. You don’t tell her that, though — part of you wants her to bear the guilt, think you found some new place in a pinch.

“I had to find somewhere to go,” you say defensively. “While you were detained.”

Her expression sours, she doesn’t like your wording. Neither do you. You don’t enjoy being angry with her, especially after being apart. All you want to do is rush to her, pull her into your arms and let it all bleed away between you, but it was Lottie herself who always showed those who followed her to feel their anger.

Lottie sinks further into her seat, sensing your discontent, crosses one leg over the other and pretends she’s blind to the world. “I missed you.”

You hum in response. Silence lies heavily between you.

“Are you upset with me?”

You don’t respond.

“Do you want me to leave?”

“No.”

She sighs. “Then what?”

“You hunted Shauna through the woods. You got shot.”

Lottie stands and makes her way to you. She looks tired above all, but you can’t help but notice a fidgety manner about her — dark eyes always flitting to avert your gaze, hands spinning her rings around and around her fingers. There is a general restlessness to her that you aren’t used to — it’s worrying.

“I understand that you’re frustrated—”

“What if it had been me?” You cross your arms. “Would you have hunted me?”

Lottie scoffs.

“Answer me. Would you have?”

She hesitates. She waits a beat too long before answering. You see the same flightiness. “No.”

You let it drop for now. You don’t want to press her and end up with a different answer. “Did it hurt?”

She’s becoming quite done with this. Her tone is laced with sarcasm, sharp with it. “When I fell from heaven?”

“When you got shot.”

“Yes, it fucking hurt.”

“I want to see.”

Again she sighs, more dramatically this time — but after a moment’s hesitation Lottie pulls off her black jacket. Your eyes find it immediately, though the wound is tiny. It’s already beginning to scar: the small mark of the bullet you remember all too clearly embedded in her skin.

“Are you okay?” Lottie asks.

“Are you?”

She offers you a soft smile — it’s not really an answer, more mournful than anything, but momentarily you have been persuaded to put your anger aside when her hands take yours and again you are home.

“If you ever get shot again, I’m leaving you,” you threaten. It sounded much less surreal to say in your head.

“I don’t plan on it,” Lottie assures you. “Though I didn’t plan on getting shot the first time.”

You beg to differ. It doesn’t matter in any case, what’s done is done. Now you need her in your arms, anger and all, and she needs it too — gently, almost so as not to scare you away into a fit of rage, she kisses you.

You had been silent when she’d told you she missed you, but you had missed her just as desperately. You missed the warmth and security of her beside you as you laid in an empty bed, you missed the novelty of being able to pull her into your arms whenever you wanted and decide it’s where you both would stay for a while. You missed her, in every way, and you were still pissed at her for all she had done to lose you.

Lottie glances around the house when you pull back, trying to determine in her surroundings where the bedroom is. You can see the disapproval etched into her features — this is not her home, this is not the life you have built together.

You can’t, not yet. Too mournful still.

When you pull her back over to the couch, it is a domestic gesture. When you lean against her so that you’re nearly on top of her and gently run a hand through her hair. When her arms wrap around you and you find your gaze trained on the bullet wound and you can’t help but reach out to trace it and know that someday, when the world is less dark and mournful and all of your wounds have scarred, you will kiss it clean of the past.

sexy sexy taglist: @webism @chaithetics @ahauandthesun

reblogs/comments always appreciated! :)

click here for my masterlist!

[mattastr0phic]

Red Vs. Blue face headcanons! Since y'all wanted em out before Season 19 dropped!

In defense of Simmons not being a red haired twink: big buff DnD and science nerd.

And some extra notes under the cut:

You can take all these with a silly grain of salt, I'm not a long-time RvB fandom frequenter but did like some bits.

Simmons: Dutch-Irish but keeps getting called 'of a Latino persuasion' by Grif. Also funnily uses 'cracker'. (so mixed.) Cybernetics built from the same sort of stuff Lopez is made out of, visibly running down the left of his face, neck, ribcage, and arm. His arm worked the best for Grif because they're around the same height.

Grif: Too lazy to cut much of his hair, but it's necessary when his helmet doesn't properly secure. Also, a beard is beneficial for catching some little save-for-later snacks. Carving started out as a fidgeting task if he somehow couldn't sleep.

Donut: Just barely hits the twunk allegations in comparison as the lankiest out of a group of fat and buff guys, somehow more durable than all of them despite it and is still above average in build. Started really trying to compensate for his image because of his scar, which developed into really being able to love himself.

Sarge: LOVES his sergeant stripes. Don't tell him but his eyes might be blue. He will say they're grey, though. Don't ask about the bullet hole in his head, either. It's not that he doesn't want to talk about it, just that he'll probably go on a rant about Grif.

Church: Rest in piss Jimmy. Church doesn't naturally feel sleepy though, not like he has this body for long. The scar on his neck was smooth enough to not raise any alarm, and a lack of sleep may have hindered his fight-or-flight reflexes while he still lived...

Tucker: A few scars from his alien encounter, a glimmer in his eyes a slight indication of his connection with the blade-key along with the visor changes. Poor guy couldn't grow his hair long because of the helmet.

Caboose: Most head trauma of anyone ever, injuries hidden by his thick curly hair. Sure doesn't keep him down! It may contribute to a loop of him losing teeth and continuing to worry about the tooth fairy being mad at him, though.

[darkheartbeats]

„A bullet to the heart“

The young woman stood tall, her heart racing in anticipation of the fate that was about to befall her. She was a vision of courage, with dark hair cascading over her frail shoulders and her skin, so pale it seemed almost translucent in the moonlight. Tied to the sturdy wooden pole behind her, her wrists were bound tightly together, the rough rope digging into her skin. Her eyes were covered with a thick blindfold, leaving her in a world of darkness, and the only sounds she could hear were the muffled sobs of those who had been forced to watch and the harsh breathing of the men poised to take her life.

Her heart was a tumult of emotions—fear, anger, sadness, and a profound sense of injustice. Each beat pounded in her chest, a silent protest against the inevitable. Her ribcage expanded and contracted rapidly with every breath she took, her diaphragm working tirelessly to bring precious oxygen to her lungs. Her pulse raced at an alarming rate, her blood vessels pulsing vigorously, sending blood to all parts of her body, her life force surging through her veins.

The captain of the firing squad read the order with a tremor in his voice. The woman's heart skipped a beat, then pounded even harder. The squad of soldiers took aim, their rifles pointing directly at her heart, the organ that had loved and hoped, and now feared. The order to fire echoed through the night, and a volley of shots rang out, the sound a deafening crescendo in the stillness.

The first bullet tore through the air, finding its mark just beside her heart. The impact was immense, sending a searing pain through her chest, and she felt a sudden warmth as her blood began to spill from the wound. The force of the bullet ripped through her tissue, tearing the aorta, the largest artery in her body, which carried oxygenated blood from her heart to the rest of her body. The second and third bullets followed closely, but she was already slipping away, her body beginning to shut down from the catastrophic loss of blood.

Her aorta, a tough, muscular tube about an inch in diameter, had been pierced. Blood now gushed from the opening, mixing with the air in her chest cavity to create a frothy embolus. The pressure of the blood loss caused her heart to pump even more furiously, attempting to compensate for the sudden drop in volume. Her pulse grew weaker and more irregular as her blood pressure plummeted. The blood vessels in her neck and face constricted, trying to maintain the flow to her brain and vital organs. Her heart, now desperately trying to keep her alive, continued to contract and expand, but with each beat, it grew weaker. The blood that usually flowed in a steady rhythm now surged erratically, sluggishly, as the aortic injury allowed air to enter her circulatory system. This disrupted the normal flow of blood, causing her heart to struggle even more.

As she felt the lifeblood draining from her, she tried to remain standing, her body trembling with the effort. The world grew fainter around her, the sounds of the sobbing crowd and the shouts of the soldiers becoming distant whispers. Her legs grew weak, and she felt the cold embrace of shock setting in. The woman's breathing grew shallower, her pulse growing fainter as her heart struggled to keep up with the demands of her oxygen-starved body. Her heart, once a bastion of vitality, now stumbled in its rhythm, the beats growing more erratic, like the flutter of a bird's wings as it descends into a deep, final sleep. Her lungs began to fill with the crimson tide of her lifeblood, the alveoli unable to expand with each gasping inhale. Her pulse grew weaker still, the throb in her neck a feeble echo of the vibrant life that had once been.

As the last of her blood drained from her aorta, her heart grew quiet, the once-powerful organ now a mere whisper in the cavern of her chest. Her knees buckled, and she slumped forward, held up only by the ropes that bound her to the pole. The final heartbeat was a mournful, stuttering sound, the last protest against the cold, unfeeling world that had taken her life. The air grew still, and the sobs of the onlookers grew louder as the young, beautiful, dark-haired woman's body went limp. Her heart had given its final protest, and she was no more. The once-robust pulse that had been a testament to her spirit now lay silent, a tragic reminder of the fragility of life. The medical examiner, who arrived soon after, confirmed her death—a death caused by exsanguination, the loss of blood from a severed aorta, and the subsequent failure of her heart.

The execution had been swift and brutal, but the internal battle that had raged within her, the fight for life, had been a silent and poignant testament to the human spirit. Her heart had held on for as long as it could, beating a rhythm of hope until the very end, even as the darkness of death crept in to claim her.

[bishopinblue]

Old fandom drama time!

It has been about 3-4 years since I had been as active as I was in the Nefarious fandom (Indie game/comic). I have gripes with multiple people in that fandom, but one/two of them thought it was a good idea to make a "call out" blog a few years ago about the Official Server, the RP server, SoR, and myself. Unfortunately for them, I remembered and felt the vigor to do what I should have done as soon as this shit was published. 

Let me start this by saying I am about 95% confident I know who is responsible for this blog. Because they thought it was okay to name drop me I'll be doing the same under my assumption and dissection as well.

From here on, my own replies will be italicized to differentiate the caps from text. Please know this is going to be a very long post. 

If you read it in full, thank you for your patience.

So hello chaoticmelody3805 and khimer_zherki. I have full reason to believe you two are the ones behind all this belly aching.

I will mainly be referring to Melody in this post due to the knowledge and proof that she has talked about most of the points in this blog to a near identical degree in private. All the while, Khimer appears to have been more of a support than a driving force. Considering he also hasn't done much harm to me I will be overlooking him. Still, I think acknowledgement is due for my reasoning on this.

To start, I think it is important to mention the fact that I was a mod in the Official Server and only that server. There are some references later on stating I was a mod in the RP server as well, which are false. I was never a mod in SoR and only held a sort of Teacher Role for a whole of 12 hours before asking to have it removed. This was early on when I was still fresh into the server.

With that being said, let's get to it.

Iceberg Post link for reference.

I want to address the reddit post first and make it abundantly clear that the creator himself was the only one with the power to edit, delete and monitor the reddit page. I don’t even have a reddit so being responsible for deleting it isn’t possible. When this iceberg was posted, Josh was the one to see and delete it. No one else. That is the only thing I wanted to address in the opening remark.

These two points have to do directly with the Official Server, as shown in the iceberg image.

"Bugs in the game"

No shit. It's a small indie game with the efforts of a handful of artists and coders to complete it. Even then, the plot was fun, the characters charming, and gameplay was enjoyable for what it was worth. It's the first stepping stone to the fandom and was often asked for a second game. 

This entry is simply pointing out the obvious for most, if not all indie games and is just mean spirited towards the creator for his efforts. 

The comics came after the game, buy the way. The server mostly pandered to the comic over the game. 

"Bot raids"

Bot raids happen on bigger public servers. This is not something that was 100% preventable and precautions were put in place to MITIGATE the amount of bot raids that occurred. All things considered, it would have been leagues worse without the clearances put in place once the initial raids kicked up. 

I say mitigated because for it to be 100% safe, the server would have to be private invite only.

I was a mod during some moments in the Official Server where I had helped think up ideas to help keep users as safe as possible. Once again, not 100% bullet proof and some still found a way in. They were dealt with swiftly each time, however.

Once again, only applicable to the Official Server.

"Important comics are Patreon exclusive"

The creator does these comics and the game as FREELANCE WORK. Of course he has the right to put some of the content behind a paywall! It's his main source of income! You and other users like you are lucky there was even a public version of the comic. 

Instead of complaining about a freelance artist asking for compensation for their creations, maybe you should be happy with the free material he gives you in bulk.

"Comic is an incoherent mess"

 This is an opinion, not a fact. Like all stories, some things bounce around and some details are hidden for later. Is it perfect? Hell no! But it's also not a damning factor either, let alone one valid for a fucking slander post.

Both of these points are opinion driven and hold no weight against their argument. Honestly, it feels like it was put in just to be mean and spiteful towards an artist who wants to make a living off his work. Pay your artists and show appreciation for the work they do!

This level can be applied to both the Official Server and SoR, despite one being only for the Official Server in the diagram.

"Bullying fan content that doesn't fit canon"

Josh has been very encouraging to artists and fans to make content they like for the fandom. The only times he has kept his mouth shut on details are for parts of the story that haven't been made public yet. He doesn't want spoilers. 

There haven't been any caps provided to support this claim for him. This can be disregarded as opinion as well.

On the other hand.

SoR was notorious for restricting content allowed in its server, but also had a harsh vetting process that prevented most players from utilizing the creations they made. 

Do you remember the Vetting Document? The one users had to fill out and then be judged upon if their muses “fit the universe enough”? I do. I also remember telling the mods to go fuck themselves because they wanted to change an aspect of my OC they didn't like. They didn't attempt to do that again.

If anything, SoR was much more restrictive in regards to following cannon content and even frowned upon most ideas that didn't adhere to the timeline. The worst of it was when I first joined that server, but over time it lessened a bit as more ideas were entertained. Only a bit, though. It was still a suffocating environment to play in thanks to the regulations and time slots for rping.

"Gaslighting"

For something as serious an accusation as this is, there are no caps. No proof. No nothing. 

If anything, that makes this a null point too. To accuse someone of gaslighting, there needs to be proof or examples given. You have provided none.

Speaking for myself, I would say I was a victim to this multiple times in SoR. By mods and users alike. Even in the three posts of this blog it's present. It did lasting damage to my mental health and stability. So, while I will not acknowledge this point due to lack of proof, I will agree that it was done to me in SoR and the after effects show in my daily life. This is my own opinion in return for yours. Tit for tat.

"Comic released on Pride Month about an 'insane' character with rainbow hair"

One of the other mods answered this more gracefully than I could. A copy and paste of their answer is below.

*Lark does have rainbow hair, and she was in  an asylum, correct. Her relationship preferences are unknown, and she is in fact- not insane- there is plot reason on why she is there, and it gets explained in the very same comic.*

Also, there is a cannonly gay character named Owl. One of Crows brothers. Macks fathers are also gay and married. Mayapple and Malice are also together and lesbians. There is plenty of LGBTQ representation in his comic if you want to claim it's only there as one moment of negativity.

"Being 'Progressive' for money"

Another opinion rather than a fact. 

The above paragraph shows examples of the LGBTQ representation in the comic. Healthy ones at that!

You can say many of the characters in the comic are touch and go, sure. Something multiple fans have also noticed. But it's not just for LGBTQ ones.

There isn't much development on already existing characters and their relationships outside of Crow. So you can't pinpoint this just to a proposed lack of LGBTQ material when a lot of other characters outside of this lack the same attention. Malachite is a good example! One of my favorites when I was still a supporter.

It isn't being progressive for cash. It's focusing on the main character and developing the world around him. Albeit, in a quick paced way, in my opinion, but not one meant as a cash grab.

"The K&B incident"

This

Is where I get longwinded.

This was the thing that pissed me off the most.

As I stated at the start of this post I was NEVER A MOD IN SOR and was ONLY A MOD IN THE OFFICIAL SERVER. I don't know who started this rumor, but it is blatantly wrong. On top of that, no one had ever come to me to confirm it! This Is coming straight from the horse's boney mouth now. I have no reason to lie about this.

I had just as much power in that rp server as any other user did.

In regards to the Official server, however. 

After leaving SoR, once I finally came to terms with how toxic that environment was and how two faced the head moderator, Fancifool, was, I did still want to rp and interact with some of the friends I made in that rp server. However, I did not want to use the Official Servers rp room as that was a place Fanci could still see me and I didn't want that. I like the privacy a private server gives.

Most of the strife, lies, rumors and manipulation all stem back to Fanci and I believe fully that any of these false accusations were fabricated from her to make herself look better, and me as a monster. (Another very long post for another time.)

Once I left, I kept away from anything to do with SoR and her. I wanted to mind my own business on the main server and enjoy the fandom. Even then, she was the one who persisted in watching and going after me whenever it seemed she could.

From things like trying to sabotage me making a pin design for the Official Server to spreading lies about why I left the rp server, she continued to harass me at a distance to the point my friend, Kaly, had to step in. She came in hot and told Fanci off before blocking her. Approaching with courtesy and a calm nature didn't work before and I continued to be targeted for minding my own business. Enough was enough. 

That is where Kaly unfortunately got her big bad rep from Fanci, despite being more than polite to multiple people who didn't deserve it in the end. The ones who made this blog are examples of some of them.  

That is all I will say about that aspect of my experience for now. SoR was an entirely different kind of trauma I had to go through and this post will never end if I tried to fit it all in here.

So back to the point at hand.

I brought up in the general chat in the Official Server that I was thinking about making my own server for folks who still wanted to rp with me, because I was NOT stepping foot back into SoR. I wanted to gauge who would still like to play with me outside of the server after I left. Not once did I say I wanted it to be a server to rival SoR nor be dedicated to Nef content. And I absolutely NEVER wanted to hog the unused rp channels in the Official Server. The same server they would host an rp in once a week or so as a type of stage to flaunt their writing outside of their server. If there was one thing Fanci loved, it was an audience. Which is also why she got so bent out of shape about the rp rooms being archived.

Fanci took this turn of events as me trying to undermine her stage, despite me saying that was not its intended purpose. She went to the SoR server owner and made up the hairbrained assumption, that you typed in this post, to get people riled up. 

As a matter of fact, I still have the original transcript of the ENTIRE CONVERSATION IN THE MOD ROOM THAT OCCURED ABOUT IT!

I was at work at the time and couldn't join in until the very end, but I think this speaks for itself well enough on how little these people actually listened to anyone other than themselves. I also have caps showing that in their group chat after the fact. 

Also, it was a majority of the OTHER moderators in the Official Server that wanted to shut down the rp channels. I was one of the only ones who tried to convince them to keep it open after Fanci demanded an audience with them. But the majority ruled and in the end I did agree with their choice as well. 

In reality, it was Fanci who ultimately pushed the mods to decide to close the rp channels due to her persisting that it would be unfair to them to have BASIC RULES IN PLACE. Rules you can read in the doc transcript at the end when I was finally free to say something on the matter. Thus, the rooms were archived and a direct link to SoR was put in its place in case anyone still wanted to join their server. That archive is long gone now.

This is just one example of how facts were twisted to make certain parties look better than they were. Making mountains from molehills to make a group look better than another.

TLDR: Fanci made a spectacle over me wanting to see if people still wanted to rp with me outside of SoR, made up lies about what my PRIVATE INVITE ONLY SERVER would be used for, and ultimately why the rp rooms were shut down.

By the way, I still made that server and it's still invite only for close friends. It's called Blue Lagoon and it's beach themed. Don't worry. I'm not stealing her number count.

"Complaints about anything on this being ignored/excused"

Any issues or complaints brought to mods from both servers were handled to the extent they thought it appropriate enough to do so. This isn't their fucking day job! It's a damn fandom server. 

I will admit, SoR neglected its own 25+ page rulebook often so they could keep numbers up. Because I was only a mod in the Official Server towards the end of this shit storm, I don't have much I can add to this point. But also, once again, no caps. No proof. No examples.

Another opinion rather than a fact.

"The Purge"

I was not around for this event and know nothing about it.

One thing I will make very clear is that the Syndicate of Roleplay was NEVER THE OFFICIAL RP SERVER FOR NEFARIOUS!

Josh never deemed it so and never once considered it a direct branch of his server for him to foresee. He has stated this multiple times. This was a self proclaimed title that held no weight in the servers validity.

"Sexualized art"

People make 18+ content. This is universal. Literally every server ever made has this happen from time to time, but at least there exists an 18+ server for the Official Server where it can be isolated to. Whether people use it is up to them. The mods usually followed up about that too. In both the Official and RP servers. Your second post actually proves that on its own.

"Provoking suicidal people" 

I don't think I know of this instance so I'm skipping it. No comment via lack of information and proof.

"ERP with minors"

You can say this was in regard to Dusty and you, Melody. I don't know what really happened between you and Dusty in that timeframe, but calling him a pedophile during a time when he was also young and unaware of some things is downright malicious. In fact, I did the math at one point and I think he was ALSO a minor during that time. So referring to him as the ADULT in this point is painting him in a worse light than he was.

Is he an asshole? Absolutely! I will not disagree with you on that. But I will never label someone something as extreme as a PEDOPHILE unless I know for sure they are one. Going to such an extreme label like this is alarming, but something you are known to do.

It's perfectly valid if you regretted that interaction with him, though! I've had moments like that in my time rping and interacting with different people. There was a lack of consideration from him and that's one of his major faults. He's inconsiderate.

As for how the mods responded to this instance. Once again, I was not there for this and there's no proof, once again.

But if this is true. You did not deserve to be treated like that and their response is more alarming than Dusty's idiocy.

"Exposure to drawn child porn"

My brother in Christ.

This is one of those instances of 'makes a character that's fully grown, but was Freshly Brought To Life recently'. I can't comment on this fully because it is also a matter of opinion in a way. One I also am not fully comfortable with. Yeah. I also don't like this trope. I think it's too close to the line in the sand.

In regards to the Event that provoked this bullet point.

It is so fucking easy to post an image or text in the wrong chat. I have done it so many times because, guess what? HUMANS CAN MAKE MISTAKES.

It doesn't matter if he had to press "several buttons" to post it if he didn't see he was in the wrong server. Which is what he said after it was all said and done! It was a huge screw up on his part, but the big takeaway is he didn't do it ON PURPOSE. He was extremely embarrassed by it after the fact and you even showed that in your second post.

Just say you want a reason for everyone to hate him as much as you do. To make him out to be a horrible person rather than someone you just don't vibe with. Cause my dude, I also don't vibe with him, but I'm not going around making shit up to make him look like a perverted pedo. That's fucked up and frankly you're fucked up for doing that!

"Active Pedophile in the community"

This is literally your last point in Level 5 just jumbled with different words. 

However, I will agree that Dusty usually had risqué muses that didn't fully belong in that space. Which once again, should have been properly addressed by the mods in that server and weren't. If anything, instead of saying Kaly gave him passes for this, what about Fanci? His best friend and overall main power holder of the server who was letting him get away with it long before Kaly even entered the server. 

But once again. No caps. No irrefutable proof. No evidence.

That's all for that post!

Now onto the second.

Accusations Post link for reference.

This part only has to do with the RP Server and the bullshit that happened in it. 

What I will be doing for this post is simply debunking the outlandish claims made in them about ME. I'll explain why they are framed in ways meant to demonize rather than inform of anything actually malicious.

I'm not going to touch the top of this post as it's just another jab at Dusty and his idiocy. The guy's inconsiderate and I'm leaving it at that.

Where I will start is right here.

Allow me to start by genuinely asking WHAT SUICIDE BAIT?????

Where??

Do you even know the meaning of that word because I don't think you do! 

And once again throwing around extreme words and phrases without understanding what they truly mean as well as the extremity of them. There isn't a single instance of that in any of these caps!

The only thing I can feasibly piece together that is close to that is when Dusty say's he's going to kill his phone and then himself.

Out of embarrassment. 

A phrase that is so commonly used that everyone has heard and used it at least once in their lives. No one is being fooled by this. It's NOT suicide baiting. 

I will go over the following main accusation against me (number 1) and why it is completely false, written and framed in a way to try and make me look like a horrible person. I will NOT be speaking for Kaly in this as her experience differs from mine. But I will touch on a few things involving her.

All the caps below are the extent of the conversation taken from this post as "proof".

Now.

I find it very convenient that the actual offending pic wasn't captured and that is because these caps were not taken at the time of offense. Not because you didn't want to capture it.

I know Khimer is most likely the one that took the caps before he left the server about a year or so ago. The reasons I think this is because of two things.

1. The date of each post alone is a baseline. This indicated that these caps were taken WAY after this happened.

I also want to point out how none of these caps are full screen caps that hide the full story and and additional context. To me, that devalues them and makes it look like certain things were framed or cherry picked. Something Melody is notorious for and also did often to make others look like unsympathetic assholes. Notably, something she attempted to do to Kaly and got caught for.

It's manipulation and gaslighting. Something she accused so many other people of. So yeah. Projecting much?

2. If you look at the first cap you will see chaoticMelody's name is one of the only ones that are white. This means that she wasn't in the server at the time of the cap being taken.

Based upon the timeline of her ban and when I knew Khimer also left the server, I can safely assume this was taken during my time still in the server considering my name isn’t in white like hers, but most certainly AFTER she had been banned and Kaly was no longer a mod.

This narrows it down to a chunk of time for me and deduces that it was not taken during the time Kaly WAS a mod in that server. While I was never a mod, Kaly was and demoted herself because she was sick of all the bullshit. She was never kicked from the role. She stepped down herself. I know for a fact this moment happened after she took that step down into just being a normal player in the server too. And if that’s hard to believe, then the proof given isn’t viable either as it says otherwise. I’ll get to why.

And no. The one user below Melody is not white as well. It is a pastel yellow. One of the other tiers they had in the server was that color and this user had it as their main color. The whole role system was a gradient from light yellow, to orange, and then purple. Purple being the owner/mods, orange being the standard users/players, and yellow being other roles like artists, viewers, etc. These were also the main colors of the main character in Nefarious, Crow. 

That's not important really, but just a tidbit of logic behind it.

My username is orange just like all the other standard users. The moderator, Fancifool, and server owner at the time, Lock Jaw, have distinctly different purple colors to their usernames and that is because Fanci was the main mod at this time and Lock Jaw was the owner with the same privileges as the mods. Even when this cap was taken they still reflect that. 

They were the ones responsible to handle this. Not me. Not Kaly. 

If this were the case, then users like MasterofMemes, who was also orange, should have been on the chopping block too, no? And what about the blatant ping in the same color as Fanci and Lock Jaws usernames? Any discord user knows the role color matches the role, so how do you deny that one?

Even then, Memes and Fanci both acted before either Kaly and I did, so in either retrospect, once again, why am I being targeted for hate in something I wasn’t even responsible for, let alone was too late to get to? Is it because certain people coupled me and Kaly together as one entity? You all sure treated us like one, which was just fucking rude and demonizing.

With this information, this accusation that I 'favored' Dusty and let him get away with accidentally posting an nsfw pic in the server flops like a dead fish. 

It’s so easy to take a cap, put it out of context and say whatever hate comes to your brain. But this was sloppy. Really sloppy. I didn’t say anything or engage with you on it for years because anyone with eyes and half a brain cell can put 2 + 2 together to make 4. Well… almost anyone, apparently. 

And allow me to state again, because this seems to continue to not be committed to memory.

I WAS NEVER A MOD IN SOR!

Not once. Never wanted to be. Never was.

On top of this, the event happened in the middle of the day when most people with jobs were AT SAID JOBS as well as school. (Don’t think I need proof of that.) We weren't tethered to our phones for any beck and call that may happen. Assuming people with lives outside of a fucking discord server will come running at any instant is, frankly, ridiculous.

But it looks like it took Fanci and Lock Jaw roughly “2 minutes to get on scene” in this instance. 

It doesn't matter if you have screenshots if all you're going to do is use them to make up lies about someone. None of what you know about me is even close to true. You can’t even dig up one cap that shows my username in the purple color Fanci’s is in because it doesn’t exist and won’t ever exist now because that server is either shut down or private.

Either way, this was a long time coming and I know by now Melody is probably in her early 20's. No longer a minor as you loved to flaunt about like a shield. So how about you act like a big girl and mind your own damn business from now on and stop spreading lies? You must be mature enough by now to do that. After all, your Harry Potter blog has been on hiatus for quite some time. That’s a good sign.

I will never deal with this brand of bullshit ever again. Not from the likes of them or others in kind. If anyone tries to stir up anything else aside from what is already on this blog I will no longer hesitate to act upon it.

If you're done embarrassing yourselves, then delete your blog and never utter my name again.

[royal-cupidity]

Line of Sight [ OC X CANON ]

(Post Petrification) (America Arc Scenario)

The world slowed the moment the shot rang out.

A sharp crack, sharper than thunder, echoed over the dry cornfield, splitting the air. Senku’s body jerked back mid-run, the crimson bloom across his chest spreading far too fast, far too wide. He stumbled—arms flailing, legs buckling—and then he crashed to the ground like a snapped wire, dust puffing up around him.

Tomi couldn’t breathe.

Not couldn’t speak—couldn’t breathe.

The distant snap of a sniper rifle reverberated again. Stanley’s position—far off, elevated, hidden. The others were already diving for cover, but all Tomi saw was the red soaking into Senku’s white coat. His legs twitching. His mouth moving like he wanted to say something.

And then—

Stillness.

Something inside her broke.

She didn’t scream. She didn’t cry. She moved.

Yo had dropped his janky, scrap-metal firearm when the first bullet grazed the ground near his foot. It wasn’t elegant—just a crude single-shot gun made from steel tubing and friction-fit pieces—but it was still a weapon. Still usable.

Tomi grabbed it.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa—!” Yo shouted as she pushed past him, nearly knocking him into the dirt.

Kaseki yelled something. Chrome called her name. She didn’t register it.

Her hands moved fast—almost too fast. She adjusted the tension in the firing mechanism with a wrench from her tool belt, eyeballing the slide, adjusting the screw on the sight despite the shaking in her fingers. The barrel was misaligned—she fixed it on instinct. One breath. Two.

Then she stood up.

And aimed.

“Get down!” Ukyo shouted, voice panicked, but Tomi was already above the corn, already exposed.

She scanned the ridge where Stanley had been—calculated the glint of the scope, the light angle, the second of hesitation between sniper fire.

She didn’t flinch.

Her finger tightened on the trigger.

Crack.

The recoil slammed her shoulder. The shot went wide—far wide. She compensated.

Again.

Crack.

This one she saw—the shimmer of the bullet nicking metal. A tiny spark at the sniper’s perch. The sniper’s rifle was hit.

Not him. Not fatal.

But it was enough.

Enough to make him move. To disrupt his perfect shot.

Tomi adjusted for a third time, bracing herself to shoot again—

—but arms grabbed her from behind.

“No, no—Tomi, STOP!” Chrome yelled, grabbing the barrel and yanking it down.

She fought. Elbows, nails, rage.

“I’ve got it—!” her voice ripped out, raw, a sound she hadn’t made in months.

“You’ll die out there!” Kaseki bellowed, dragging her back, body trembling with the effort. “It’s a sniper—!”

“I don’t care!”

She kicked—fought—the barrel pointing again toward the trees.

Stanley wasn’t visible anymore.

She’d lost the window.

And still, she shook off their hands, staggering forward before her knees hit the ground, the gun slipping from her hands, her shoulders heaving with breath she couldn’t find.

Somewhere behind her, she could hear the others—Chrome cursing, Yo muttering “what the hell is wrong with her”under his breath, Kaseki’s voice tight with emotion.

But all she could see was Senku, lying on the cracked soil, barely breathing.

Yuzuriha knelt beside him, already trying to stop the bleeding.

There was nothing left to shoot.

No battle left to win

He was alive.

But barely.

[peachycheekz]

Come What May Creator's Challenge #6

May 11th, wild/fragile a/n: I demand financial compensation from myself for that one. CW: death, grief WC: 860

read on ao3 previous, next

Glass hearts/paper fists

The acrid smell of disinfectant and cleaning chemicals lingered in the air, heavy and unbreathable as Bucky sipped on what must be the eighth, or ninth, cup of stale, lukewarm hospital coffee.

He'd stopped counting the days he'd spent here, hoping, waiting.

The scratched vinyl flooring screeched as he pulled a chair up to your bed. The curtains were thrown open today, one window letting in a bit of cool air from outside. It was raining today, almost like the sky was mourning you as well.

It had been raining when you two met for the first time as well. You were beautiful, the kind of pretty that takes away breaths and breaks hearts before it was even recognised.

He couldn't stand you at first. But you had never let that stop you. You had been dead set on befriending him, and God you were stubborn.

A sound clawed its way up his sore throat, something between a bitter laugh and a sob. He hadn't even noticed he'd started crying again until the salty drops gathered at the corners of his mouth, at his chin. Dropped into his coffee.

There was a gaping hole in chest, threatening to collapse in on itself.

Emptiness was never heavier. Silence never louder.

He only noticed the tremor rocking through his whole body when he spilled some of the brown liquid on the fresh white sheets of your bed. He put the cup down, his head in his hands.

This should've never happened. It should've been him. It should've always been him. That bullet was never meant to hit you. But you were stubborn and selfish and had too high an opinion of him.

Bucky had a myriad of haunting memories stored in the vault at the back of his mind, but the most soul-shattering one of them was the moment you jumped in front of him. The moment you were torn open in front of him. The moment your blood stained his hands.

He pressed a hand to his mouth to stifle the sounds of his lungs drowning in sorrow.

He couldn't stand you at first, but that didn't stop you from breaking down his walls until he was completely unguarded. Unable to defend himself in the face of your bright smiles and terrible jokes.

Until he thought maybe he was worth a damn after all. You had been so convinced he was a good man. And for the first time in a very long time he had believed maybe he was.

"Please." It took him a while to notice that the sad excuse for a sound was his voice. Words left his lips in pieces. In clipped, shaky wisps of breath. "Please, don't leave me alone."

There was no response, there never was. And how could you? You weren't even there anymore.

He couldn't stand you until he fell so hard and irretrievably in love with you he saw stars and the sun and so much light it overwhelmed him. You had brought a warmth into his icy darkness that he thought he'd never experience again.

You gave him a will to live.

Without you there was nothing.

"I'm so, so sorry." He sank to the floor, hands grasping the edges of your bed, forehead pressed into the sheets. Fresh tears mixed with the coffee stains. "Forgive me, my love. Please…I need you. I don't know how to exist without you."

He had been so unbearably in love with you. And he'd waited too long tell you.

Every 'I love you' he'd whispered, howled, prayed, cried would forever go unanswered. And he blamed himself. He should've taken that shot, it had been meant for him anyway.

Footsteps in the hallway. A soft knock on the door. "You talking to yourself in there?"

Bucky's ribcage cracked wide open, hands desperately fisting the neatly folded blanket in the place he used to intertwine your limp fingers with his. Back when he had still foolishly allowed himself to hope.

Another loved one lost because of him. He might as well have pulled the trigger himself.

He wasn't worth it, had never been. Not of the friendship, the love, the faith in him.

As always when he had the audacity to allow himself a bit of good in his life, it was wrenched out of his grasp. Crushed in a metal fist.

"Just…saying goodbye." He was no good at goodbyes. That's why he came here again and again, seeing if he could catch a glimpse of your ghost. Seeing if, maybe, he had imagined the steady line depicting your heartbeat flatten. Maybe he had imagined the room filling with nurses and doctors and screams and sobs and desperation.

Maybe he was in the wrong room.

Maybe you were waiting in the room next door, smiling and loving him back and alive.

Maybe he was still in cryo and had dreamed all of it up.

God, he wished he was. He'd go on that chair willingly, let them fry every neuron in his brain that had stored any memory of you.

It was your heart that had stopped beating, so why did he feel like he had died that day?

[the-kr8tor]

forgive me for hurting you, because I DON'T REGRET IT MUAHAHA>:) Daily Hobie HC! Detective victorian era au Hobie and R time Hobie Brown. The man who had your back in every investigation. The one who always pointed out the one thing which you brushed over. The missing piece in your heart, and the final, missing piece in the cause of all the murders. You felt betrayed, hatred competing with the love in your heart for the man in front of you. You stared at him, trying to read the emotions in his gaze but for once, you can't. You couldn't help but choke out 'liar', filled with betrayal and disbelief in your tone. Hobie was snapped out of his trance, trying to reason with you, pleading. He loves you too. From ever since you both had met as kids, to landing the job being detective partners together, he'd look at things, flowers, trinkets, remembering about you, knowing you'd like that. It felt wrong. So, so wrong. He didn't know you all his life. You didn't know him. Hobie was a murderer. The confliction was strong, your hand on the gun as you pull it out to point straight at his chest, where you once wished to lay your head and listen to his heartbeat, now, you're battling whether to take it away or let the frail organ in his chest continue to move. Hobie spoke desperately, trying to explain that he didn't choose to love you, knowing that he was the reason for the murders behind your back. He didn't want to keep lying to you, but there wasn't any safe way to say. A tense minute fell upon you both, before Hobie spoke up once more. You were so still, the gun pointed at him unwavering, your face as cold as ice. He wanted to know what was going inside that pretty head of yours, almost freezing himself as you let out a pained laugh. He betrayed you with actions. Pulled you in with words, and that damned charming smile. If you were to let him go, he could kill you next, or you would die just to let him roam. You gave him a warning, his time was up. With a saddened smile, Hobie simply just spoke his last words, that he loves you. Those words triggered your anger to overtake the one thing holding you back, your love for him. Anger electrified your body to move, your finger snapping down on the trigger and sending the bullet flying into his chest. Hobie stumbled back to drop to his knees from the impact, choking out the same words, saying he loves you, before his body went still. Oh no. Oh no no no no no no no...what have you done? -🐦‍⬛

I demand emotional compensation!! 😤

Daily Hobie HC ‼️‼️‼️

OMG YESSSSS @friendly-neighborhood-mushroom would love this!

I can just imagine the two of them having this conversation while there's a dead body between them like hobie was caught in the act by r

Qosnwisjkws i can feel the tension!!!!!

Hobie was like "i love you"

R: 🔫

I was abt to ask if they had guns back then, then i realized that they would've bc it's already Victorian times and even during bdas years they had guns 😂 my brain did a little fart

NOOOOOOOOOOOO

Wait wait, imagine that Hobie foresaw this before like he prepared a bullet proof panel under his clothes 🤯

(when I read 'what have you done?' pink pony club started playing in my head lmao)

[mothybean]

Airhead Part 4

My schedule the following week was insanely jam packed. It was as if all of my professors congregated to drop an assignment nuke on us. I had about 10 different assignments to complete, 3 of them were Heimerdinger’s. He drove me nuts. I had a feeling that he only became a college professor to stroke his own ego;surround himself with others who were “less intelligent” than him to make himself feel superior. I’m pretty sure it was compensation for his height. He was as tall as a stepping stool. I don’t think there was one person in our class that liked him. The moment his name was mentioned, faces would scrunch as if they just caught a whiff of rancid garbage mixed with sulfur on a hot summer's eve.

I was drowning. I was back where I started, semi clueless. Humpledink must’ve had a sixth sense knowing I was receiving help and decided to bump up the difficulty of the material. Either that, or it was my own fault for daydreaming in class. Those baby blue clouds were still vivid in my mind. I’ve been thinking about her ever since. I didn’t have the courage to reach out to her, even though I wanted to. A part of me was super nervous to even see her again. I kept running through possible scenarios of us studying together, a lot of them were painfully cringey. My biggest worry of them all was that it was going to be mega awkward.

I sat at my desk, staring at my science assignment, my hands tangled in my hair with frustration. I reread the first question at least ten times and I still didn’t understand what he was asking. Why was this so fucking difficult?! I groaned and gently knocked my forehead against my desk. I kept my head pressed against the wood, drumming my fingers against my skull. I inhaled deeply, running the idea through my head a few times before exhaling. That's it. I had to bite the possibly awkward bullet and let Jinx know I needed help.

Once again, I stood in front of Vi and Jinx’s home, only this time I ditched the weighted backpack and just brought my laptop. I figured I’d travel light in case I needed to make a run for it again-which I promised myself I wouldn’t. I was crushing hard on her. How did I expect to get close if I put distance between us? I gave the front door a solid few knocks and glanced down at the familiar cursive words beneath my feet. They needed to toss this damn thing, it didn’t match the vibe on the inside. I wasn’t a fan of cheesy suburban white mom decor. No offense.

I heard the door unlock, my eyes still glaring at the jute mat. I adjusted my laptop in my arms, silently taking a deep breath to soothe my nerves. With what little courage I managed to summon, I lifted my foot off the porch step, but immediately froze once I took notice of who answered. Jinx stood in the doorway wearing an oversized white t-shirt, a mischievous grin plastered on her lips. Her hair, no longer in braids, fell to her ankles like silky curtains. I swallowed hard. Could this girl be anymore attractive?

“H-hi.” I stammered, trying my best to keep my composure as my eyes ping ponged from her’s to her legs to my feet. Not even a couple of seconds in and I already feel like I’m making a fool of myself. Nice one Y/N.

“Hey Y/N.” She greeted me in a husky tone, pushing the door open wider to let me in. “Let’s get to it.” She smiled and flipped her hair over her shoulder as she started down the hallway, leaving me stunned at the door. I stood on the front porch watching her hips slightly sway with each step. Damn. I cleared my throat and furrowed my brows, reeling my eyes back into my sockets. I needed to chill. I was here for a study session, not a simp session.

I stepped inside, softly closing the door behind me. Eager to be close to my blue hair crush, I kicked my shoes off near the rack and walked down the hall with haste. I felt like I was gonna puke. I entered the living room, gripping the life out of my laptop. There she was, sitting comfortably on the far end of the couch, one foot propped up on the cushion, the other planted on the floor. Suddenly, studying became a distant memory as my eyes hungrily scanned the blue haired angel, tracing her tattoos yet again. I desperately wanted to touch them. I bet she was as soft as she looked.

“You ready?” Jinx asked, twirling her hair around her finger, a devious smirk still plastered. Something told me she knew I had the hots for her. Anyone with eyeballs could tell. I made it painfully obvious. I was never great at hiding my true feelings, especially when I was embarrassed. My facial flushing always gave it away. It wasn’t a cute pink tint either. My cheeks would go redder than the devil’s ass cheeks. I’d be shit out of luck if I wanted to pursue professional poker.

“Mhm.” I murmured, sitting on the opposite end of the couch as her, my hands slightly trembling as I opened my laptop to turn it on.

From my peripheral vision, I noticed Jinx staring at me, still twirling her long bluenette locks around her index finger. Avoiding her obvious gaze, I kept my eyes forward, intensely staring at my laptop’s update screen as if it was the most interesting thing in the room. Of course it would be updating right this second. I tapped my fingertips lightly against the touchpad, hoping my taps would encourage my hunk of junk to update faster.

“Technical difficulties?” Jinx questioned with a small chuckle, scooching a tad closer to me to inspect my screen. My mouth felt like the desert.

“Yeah…I’ve had this thing for a while. I’ve been denying the updates for so long I guess it finally had enough.” I laughed nervously, bouncing my leg slightly as I watched the update percentage rise slowly. I cupped my hands around the back of my neck and let my elbows fall. Safe to say it was time for a new computer.

I felt Jinx shift on the couch, causing my specific cushion to sink a bit on the side. Before I could even glance over at her, her legs stretched out across my lap, on top of the laptop.

“Oh!” I gasped, my eyes darting back and forth between her silky smooth legs and my piece of shit laptop. At that moment, I didn’t give a damn if the thing fell to the ground and shattered into a million pieces if it meant staying in our current position.

“Whaddya think?” Jinx asked, her hands dragging the hem of her oversized white shirt upwards, revealing her upper thighs. “I’m thinking about getting more tattoos, but I’m not sure what to get yet.”

I stared at her legs, my mouth slightly agape as I studied the blue clouds that traveled up her right leg. I gulped, unsure of what to do or say, this was so abrupt. The only thought that bounced around was to let my hands fall onto her beautiful legs. Using what little courage I had in me, my eyes traveled up her legs towards her thighs, stopping briefly at her pastel lavender underwear that was slightly visible before finally meeting her eyes.

“They’re…” I started, my eyes taking a quick peek at her underwear again before looking back at her. “They’re great.”

Jinx chuckled dryly and laid down on her back, not once removing her eyes from mine.

“Ya think so?” She definitely knew. I already knew I was crimson red, that was a no brainer. It was a dead give away at this point. I nodded, still staring into her blue orbs. Jinx found the hem of her shirt again, rubbing the fabric in between her fingers for a moment before slowly lifting her shirt up even more, her underwear fully visible at this point.

My body tensed as I felt the full weight of her legs on mine. I glanced at my laptop, slightly hoping the update was complete as an excuse to collect myself. Ironically, the percentage was at 69%. I felt myself blush even harder as an intrusive thought conjured after seeing the sexually coded number. What the hell was even happening? Looking back over, Jinx’s shirt was now lifted up high enough for me to see everything up to her collar bones.

“I think it suits me. What do you think, Y/N?” She questioned as she slightly moved her left leg against my stomach. Holy hell I was going to explode if she kept touching me.

“Yeah, I agree…” I trailed off. I felt like a horny teenage boy as I drooled over her figure, mentally marking the parts of her I wanted to kiss the most.

Jinx quickly sat up, her legs still weighted on mine and leaned against the back of the couch, her face mere inches from mine.

“What’s wrong?” Her tone was playful. I glanced at the laptop, checking the percentage. It was stalling at 99%. Come on you stupid piece of shi-

Jinx removed her legs off of me and stood up from the couch, almost knocking the computer off my lap in the process. She stood in front of me with her arms crossed as her eyes traveled from my face down to my laptop. Her face was hard to read, the smirk she was wearing was replaced with a more neutral expression. I had no idea what was going on inside of her mind and that scared me.

I looked back at the screen and a wave of relief washed over me. The update finally finished, the screen now displaying the home screen. I opened my mouth to say something, but Jinx took the computer off my lap and placed it next to me. I raised an eyebrow in question, watching as she slowly took a step forward, placing her hands on either side of my head, her palms against the back of the couch.

“Do you think we should study later?” Jinx asked in a sultry voice, her face leaning closer to mine. My heart was pounding. Was she about to kiss me? Our lips, centimeters from touching, a sudden annoying beeping sound echoed throughout the living room. I pulled back from her face and looked around for the source.

“Get up.” Jinx said sternly. I furrowed my brows, unsure of what she meant. “Get up.” She repeated as she pushed off the couch.

My eyes shot open, my eyes darting around my surroundings. I was in my bedroom. Holy shit, that was a dream?

[splatsvilles-fashionista]

Splatoon 3 Version 7.2 patch notes breakdown

The patch notes for version 7.2, which is going live tomorrow, dropped earlier today, and this is a fairly beefy patch balance-wise, so let's take a look together, shall we?

First of all, the patch includes the renovated Undertow Spillway, but we won't know how it's been changed until it goes live, so let's jump right into the main weapons:

Sploosh's bullets have had their hitbox size increase, and while they don't specify by how much this should in theory make Sploosh's damage more consistent.

Splattershot Pro and H-3 now do 3 more damage, which doesn't change much about them directly but if you've been even lightly chipped by anything they're now gonna 2-shot you and that can be pretty scary. Watch out!

Nova is now 8% more accurate when its feet are on the ground, which means it might actually hit what it's aiming at every once in a while!

Luna Blaster's explosion ink is now 20% bigger, which means it paints more and can trap people in its paint more reliably, though I can't see that changing much with how fast it fires.

S-Blast's long-range mode will now do 50+ damage more reliably. Note that this is not a splash radius buff, it just makes it deal damage more reliably within the radius it already has.

Painbrush now paints more when rolling and starts recovering ink faster after rolling. This seems like a very meh buff to me, but it does speed up the weapon a bit, and it definitively needs that.

And the final main weapon change of the patch, Dapples now move faster when walking and shooting. It's a bit quicker on its feet now, and that only makes sense for the lightest dualies, doesn't it?

Now, moving on Specials:

Big Bubbler receives a chunky durability buff on its weak spot. This thing's gonna take a lot of effort to take down now.

Splattercolor Screen now does 10 more damage. This makes it combo with a couple of more damage sources, but did you know that you can squid roll through a Screen to take no damage from it? Now you know.

Triple Splashdown is getting a buff and a nerf. You now spend about ten frames less time in the air, but the splash radius was reduced to compensate. My gut feeling is that this is an overall buff, as it makes it less risky to use, but we'll have to see how things pan out.

And finally, and this is actually a big deal, when you Super Jump to a teammate using Kraken Royale you'll no longer jump to their location, but instead to the place where they activated their Kraken. This is huge because it deals a massive blow to the popular Clam Blitz cheese strats that the special had become known for where you use it to swim up to the basket and let your team jump super clams to it with no effort required. It was a huge sore spot in the mode for a lot of people, and this change pretty much kills the entire strategy. Very nice!

And with there being no Sub Weapon changes, let's move onto the final section, the points for Special changes:

Neo Splash and N-Zap '89 are the winners of this patch's "random shooter buff" lottery, and I expect the '89 to be incredibly common and incredibly annoying in turf wars after this. Carbon Roller becomes the first weapon in Splatoon 3 to hit 160p, and considering how poorly it paints that's only fair. Splat Charger and Dapples get 10p taken off their special charge as well, and in the case of the latter it's a buff that works pretty well with its mobility buff from earlier. In the nerfs department they hit a bunch of the most popular meta weapons with 10 extra points for Special, with Squeezer becoming the second ever weapon to get 220p after Sloshing Machine (and unlike it, squeezer kind of deserves it).

Overall, I think this is a good patch. The biggest pain points for competitive play going into this patch was Trizooka spam and the utter dominance of Snipewriter, and this patch does address both of them, albeit indirectly. Trizooka still probably needs a nerf, and nintendo remain as hesitant as ever to address any problem directly, but it's still a step in the right direction.

[hop-a-lot]

heres the scenario ;3

--

Jonah wasn't supposed to be at Sawmill that day. Hell, he was supposed to be in Australia with Mr. Hale, and yet here he is. Dying from bullets wound. Scout didn't even realize that it was his brother at first when he had fired the shots.

He drops the force-a-nature, sprinting to Jonah's side and drags him to the sideline, screaming for Medic.

"Jonah-- Jonah, you'll be okay-- come on, dude! Ma's waitin' at home for ya!" Scout pleads, ripping open his duffel bag and trying to stop the bleeding. Silently begging Medic to hurry up.

"...Jeremy... did you... frickin' shoot me?" Jonah's unsteady gaze turns to his brother. Speaking taking a lot of effort for his older brother.

"I- It- It was an accident, I- I didn't know it was you..." Scout takes a shuddering breath. "I'm sorry! Please, just, don't die on me, okay?! That crap ain't cool!"

"...no promises." Jonah doesn't even seem angry. "Your aim's... gotten better... than it was when... we were kids."

"Sh-Shut up! It's always been good." Scout protests. His hands are warm, and he looks down to see the blood has soaked through the gauze.

"Jeremy." Jonah's voice is so calm. It's starting to scare Scout. "It's okay."

"What-?" Scout looks at his older brother in horror. "It ain't okay! I don't wantcha leavin' like Wes an' Henry... Please-- Jonah, please--" Scout begs, grabbing his brother's hand. Jonah smiles at him, bloodstains on his teeth.

"Tell Ma... I won't be... home for dinner."

A shadow takes Scout's gaze off his brother, and he looks up to see Spy standing over them both, a hollow look on his face.

"Help him." Scout whispers. Spy just shakes his head.

"I cannot help a dead man." Is the only thing Spy says. Turning his attention back to Jonah, Scout's suddenly aware his brother isn't breathing. There's no life behind his coffee-brown eyes, and when Scout loosens his grip on Jonah's hand, it limply slides out and hits the ground with a thud.

Jonah's dead.

Whatever happened next was a blur.

Someone grabbed Scout, tearing him away from his brother's body. Calls of retreat, and then everything goes black and Scout welcomes sleep.

"...oh! He's waking up." Medic's voice sounds fuzzy and distant.

"Mate. You in there?" Sniper's voice asks, and Scout opens his eyes. His vision is blurry, but he can make out enough to know he's in the medical wing.

"Wh... what happened?" Scout shifts his gaze to Medic.

"Well, we retreated. We lost the round." Medic explains. "And you fainted."

"Spy carried you back here. Never seen the bloke run so bloody fast before." Sniper adds, crossing his arms.

"...Jonah. Where... Where is he?" Scout tries to sit up, but Medic pushes him back down.

"You hit your head, Scout. You need rest." Medic avoids answering the question.

"No." Scout pushes Medic off. "Where's Jonah. Where is my damn brother?!"

"He... He died, mate." Sniper gives Scout a pitying look. "You... You were there when it happened."

The memories come back to Scout slowly, and his eyes widen.

You're the reason why it happened, Jeremy. Jonah'a voice haunts him. Scout doesn't say a word, but he can feel hot tears burning in his eyes and on his face. Sniper puts a hand on his back, and Medic steps away to lock the doors for privacy.

--

Jonah's funeral is private, with only family being there. But family is just Scout and Ma.

He's the last survivor out of all his brothers.

And he killed the only brother who had ever seemed to care about him. Ma seemed to know something about Scout's role in Jonah's death, but she said nothing about it. Just silently cried, sitting next to Scout, staring at the coffin.

Scout didn't shed a single tear. He just felt empty.

War has no sides, only victims. Scout had gotten pulled into the cycle of war and paid the price. No amount of compensation pay or time off would bring Jonah back.

And only Scout would know the truth about his death. It wasn't "suicide" like Medic had said it was.

--

Scout sits on the edge of his bed, staring out the window. It's been two weeks since Jonah died, and Scout hadn't been able to sleep since the funeral a few days ago. Standing with a sigh, he opens the desk drawer and reaches for his sketchbook when his hand brushes against something round.

A baseball. No. The baseball.

Take care, Jeremy. -Jonah

And finally, Scout finds himself crying.

screaming crying throwing up this is so good??? "War has no sides, only victims. Scout had gotten pulled into the cycle of war and paid the price. No amount of compensation pay or time off would bring Jonah back." Repetitive slaughter makes him numb, until he finally come to senses when he mistakenly murdered his dearest brother, this part is just tragic and heartbreaking...

[us-cj]

From TACOM HQ

Fast, high saturation, cost effective, logistical warfare

P.S. Killer (PSK) drone by XDOWN

The first, throw-and-forget multi-role UAS, the PSK is deployed in 2-seconds by simply throwing it into the air like a football, and reaches top speeds of 155mph (69m/s) with a 1.7lb Kamikaze payload up to 40mi (64km).

The PSK is able to deliver precision strikes, conduct reconnaissance, coordinate with other military assets, and employ swarm tactics. It is also designed to autonomously detect, intercept, and neutralize other aerial threats.

NATO countries around the globe are increasingly prioritizing innovation in way of adaptability, cost-efficiency, and impact (like drones) over a strict standard for technological superiority at the expense of sustainability in a long-term conflict.

These global endeavors are also captured within the Alpha TARAC, a robust, high saturation, cost-effective alternative to its active reticle display counterpart. Cross-compatible with any optic, Alphas unlock Marksman-level proficiency via a prism with little to no additional training, batteries, or electronics deep into intermediate ranges.

The Alpha TARAC is a USA-made, prismatic bullet drop compensator. It harness max point-blank range (MPBR) or Speed Drop to simplify the thought chain to a binary solution per target size (MPBR) or range (Speed Drop) to eliminate holdover on movers at unknown ranges or to convert the range into a hold, respectively.

KISS

[tanoraqui]

Baby Weasel LOOSE in Modern Europa!

Another early post for the #GetWellSoonKaja weekend event! 4.3k bullet-point fic I wrote back when Tarvek was in the middle of being kidnapped by the librarians...

Everything’s going right at first with the extraction, then something starts going wrong. Gil pulls a lever to compensate and something else starts going wrong, and then five other things spiral or go haywire or both; it’s all flashing and smoking and too many chronometers spinning backwards too fast, and the screaming can’t forget the screaming—too high. instruments reading all vitals too low or too high or just not registering at all because the needles pulled out because—

When Gil finally gets everything shut down, the time bubble dropped and the smoke batted away, for half a terrified second he thinks Tarvek just isn’t there. Then he sees that Tarvek's just…smaller, gaping wide-eyed with confusion and jangling nerves, and it throws him far back enough (to midnight hours in hidden access tunnels and makeshift shared bedrooms) that he asks, “Tarvek?”

The eight-year-old prince of Sturmhalten, attached to machines he doesn’t remember or understand and sore like he’s been doing balance training for days, not knowing where (or when) he is or how he got here, stares up at the nearly-familiar man with bronze madboy hair, shadowed eyes and a resonating voice, and a Wulfenbach pin at his throat.

“…Gil?”

[keep reading on AO3]

[the-most-humble-blog]

🪖 Handy Checklist: How to Mock the Same Men Who’d Die Protecting Your Right to Mock Them

(A quick guide to shaming the primates who built your infrastructure while you tweet about “toxic masculinity” from your air-conditioned condo)

✅ Step 1: Casually Mock His Height

"You're 5'8"? Lol. Manlet energy!"

Perfect. Start with the spine.

Make sure you reduce the man who’d stand in front of a bullet for your ungrateful ass… to a TikTok roast based on inches he can’t control.

Because what screams “empowered feminist” like dragging a guy who would’ve been conscripted at 18 for being shorter than the dude you fantasized about in a K-drama?

✅ Step 2: Belittle His Dick Size

“Bet he’s got a small dick.” “He’s compensating.” “Little pee-pee energy.”

Excellent.

Nothing like using genital shaming as a feminist-approved punchline. Because remember: Body shaming is wrong. Unless it’s a man.

✅ Step 3: Ask What He Makes, Then Laugh

"He only makes $47k a year? Ew." "Get your money up before you talk to me."

Brilliant.

Forget the fact he works 50 hours a week as a mechanic, keeps your car from exploding, and would still cover your dinner without complaint.

He’s expendable because he doesn’t make six figures while not crying too much and texting you good morning like a therapist in a work vest.

✅ Step 4: Watch Ads Where He’s an Idiot, She’s a Goddess

Man drops baby = laugh track Woman fixes car = applause

Consume it all. Internalize the narrative that men are clumsy, clueless apes who need a smirking wine mom to guide them through life like toddlers with power tools.

Ignore the fact that men built:

Your plumbing

Your roads

The bridge you drive over

The electricity you charge your vibrator with

They’re dumb because they don’t load the dishwasher right.

✅ Step 5: Forget That the Draft Was Never Her Problem

“She’s so brave for yelling at cops!” “He’s so fragile because he cried during Band of Brothers.”

Never mind that he comes from a lineage of men who had numbers pinned to their chest by governments and were told:

“Run toward the bullets or be imprisoned.”

Meanwhile, she’s brave for holding a cardboard sign, yelling, “My Body My Choice,” while enjoying the national security those ‘dumb men’ literally bled out for.

✅ Step 6: Say “Men Are Trash” and Call It Nuance

“If he’s not six feet, six figures, six inches — he’s useless.” “I want a man who can kill someone and cry with me during Euphoria.”

But he better not have trauma. Or expect respect. Or ask what you bring to the table.

He should sacrifice his life while you sacrifice your loyalty to a guy with better shoes.

✅ Step 7: Take His Protection For Granted

Who runs toward the sound downstairs? Him. Who walks you to your car at night? Him. Who’ll take the punch if some lunatic shows up in public? Him.

But you?

Roll your eyes. Call it “male ego.” Post about it on IG. Never thank him. Just say: “That’s the bare minimum.���

Until a moment comes when you really need him. And suddenly the bare minimum looks like God in dirty sneakers.

✅ Step 8: Use Him, Then Cry “Abuse”

Let him pay. Let him protect. Let him solve. Then label him controlling when he says, “Don’t go out alone at 3am.”

He’s not a man anymore. He’s a service provider with a dick.

And the moment he stops performing? Block. Ghost. Public story time.

You got the perks of masculinity. But none of the grace for the weight he carries.

✅ Step 9: Call Him Fragile for Having Boundaries

“He doesn’t want to date single moms? Insecure.” “He wants a traditional girl? Misogynist.”

But your six-page list of requirements? “That’s just self-respect.”

He’s not allowed to want, only to offer.

He can die for you, work for you, fight for you… But if he asks for something?

Suddenly it’s giving… narcissist.

✅ Step 10: Forget He’s Human Until He’s Dead

“I didn’t realize he was struggling.” “He was always so quiet. So helpful.”

But when he was alive?

You mocked his job, his height, his voice, his shoes, his haircut, his finances, and the fact that he dared to have emotions.

Then you posted “Mental health matters 💔” with a selfie that got 139 likes.

🧠 Real Talk: If the Collapse Ever Comes, You’ll Pray for the Men You Mocked

You won’t want TikTok therapists. You’ll want the man who can load a gun and fix a pipe. You’ll want the guy you called a “dusty broke manlet.” Because he’s the one who’ll get you and your mom to safety while you cry over your cracked phone.

He won’t ask for thanks. He never does.

But he’ll remember what you said. What you laughed at. What you judged.

And he’ll still protect you.

Because that’s what “trash” does.

🔁 CTA Stack:

Reblog if you’re done pretending mocking masculinity makes you powerful. Bookmark if you know exactly which man you owe an apology to. DM if you’ve ever been protected by someone you secretly looked down on.

[taggedmemes]

SENTENCE MEME ⟶ OXVENTURE PRESENTS: DEADLANDS / ch7 always feel free to tweak the sentence to fit your muse.

'you've got... whatever you've got going on.'

'i, uh, died. in a duel.'

'essentially, i am no longer living, i am powered by an evil spirit.'

'to all intents and purposes, i am dead.'

'that is a detailed and unsettling explanation.'

'it's no compensation for losing your bean appetite.'

'food has no savour for me and i can't get drunk.'

'i fired bullets into the back of her head and it was all fine after that.'

'the hypocrisy of it is what stings most of all well— the murders...'

'he's only seen it written down.'

'tremendous! i need to freshen up.'

'i find it makes me more pleasant to be around.'

'murder has more of a burning, hole through the chest sensation than a sting, but...'

'i would like to buy an astonishing amount of booze, please.'

'you're going to be so flammable.'

'she mentioned that you might be by. she didn't mention the smell.'

'TNT? can we have TNT?'

'use the time you have with the ones you love.'

'even if it smells bad, it's better than looking at the horses.'

'and i shouted at those children so much, that's how i got the nickname 'old yeller'.'

'can i see some... badge?'

'how am i supposed to make peace if i don't have my peacemaker?!'

'i was just on my way back from the well...'

'not everyone has to drink alcohol.'

'how would you imbibe... liquid... that is not alcohol.'

'i'm sorry, i simply stopped paying attention.'

'how'd you lose your nose, friend?'

'i've never lived anywhere so wonderful!'

'honest men have nothing to fear from the law.'

'i wouldn't go near a horses hooves.'

'i'm going to regret asking this, i feel, but...'

'you can't hang a man for having a drink!'

'should we ask them politely not to?'

'it's not a crime to ask!'

'it may be a crime to ask.'

'if we hang him now, he'll never do it again.'

'let's call them 'health complications'.'

'they can't kill you if you're already dead. it's double jeopardy.'

'first of all, heck. and furthermore, dang. and, uh, uh... ninny!'

'how many colours are in that waistcoat, ma'am?'

'that horse must be at least life sized.'

'i mean, unless you have a three foot neck.'

'i plead insanity.'

'ignorance of the law is no defence!'

'we also interrupted a hanging.'

'yeah, we aided and abetted.'

'you seem very stressed, can i offer you some corn whiskey?'

'you've really dropped the ball, here.'

'oh, no, oh no... mum said it was gonna be like this...'

'how long until you fall foul of the law?'

'if you cut off the head of the snake, it tends to be fatal for the whole thing, being as it is part of the whole thing...'

'i don't know, i've never learned my words!'

'you will not turn my couthouse into a house of cussing!'

'you came in, sir, and said 'butts'.'

'you're putting the spark to the fuse, you're really starting to piss me off...'

'one rule for him, one rule for the rest of us...'

'speaking spanish is now illegal!'

'my understanding is that he was dressed far fancier than me.'

'you look just like someone wanted for graverobbing.'

'what are you, old man?!'

'is this really necessary?'

'here we go again, i suppose.'

'he can't be killed! it's a sign!'

'why is this man not dead?!'

'is sharp rope a thing? well sharpen it!'

'a bad workman always blames his tools.'

'i'll blame you, you tool!'

[fmoe1997]

A Productive Meeting

"You know how insignificant he was when I found him? He practically pried the door to my car open to get what I offered. Oh he was so eager to snort coke off my dick then, but now? He thinks he's too good to ANSWER MY CALLS!"

Another gunshot resounded through the room, followed by a dull thud as one of Vox's ex-employees fell to the floor. Blackened blood formed a macabre heart from the pattern of bullets lodged in their chest, before it quickly spilled over and pooled onto the floor. They lay just beside their fellow coworker, whose body had grown cold in the time Valentino took to get to his latest victim. While Vox would normally applaud his stamina in more intimate scenarios, he had long grown tired with his persistent discontent in regards to one of his own employees.

As promised, he had called the most inefficient of his workforce for an impromptu meeting at V Tower's penthouse. They believed they had been summoned for their stellar performance in the recent quarter, and expected to receive compensation for their efforts. Which, in a way, wasn't a lie. It amazed Vox just how much these three in particular dragged his sales down compared to their contemporaries, and he believed they deserved recognition for their ineptitude. It's their fault if they didn't appreciate how he showed it.

However, that supposed they could express any emotions other than the deadpan stare they faced Valentino with as he shot them down one by one. Another technological invention courtesy of VoxTech. All employees are required by contract to be chipped before they accept the position. It helped regulate sleep so they could work 24/7 without breaks, kept their minds clear of unwarranted thoughts, and made them wholly compliant to his will. If he wanted them to jump, they'd jump as high as he desired, and if he wanted them to stand still so Valentino could use them for target practice, it was good for that too.

"Sounds like a real pain in the ass, Val," Vox responded from his laid-back position on the nearby sofa. "Makes you wonder why you keep him on the team."

While he had feigned interest in his business at first, as any good partner should, he dropped all pretenses by this point. Ever since the stupid slut of a spider entered Valentino' life, he had become an unwanted wedge in their relationship. Whether he recognized that or cared, Vox couldn't tell anymore, and his less than subtle insinuations towards that fact had gone clear over his bald head. So he responded only when required, but otherwise passed the time with his third game of solitaire on his internal display.

Valentino dropped his gun arm and cast a look over at Vox, who to him appeared to stare off into space much like the drones he used to blow off steam. His finger curled around the trigger, tempted to aim it at Vox, but he thought better of it and relaxed with a barely-controlled exhale.

"He's still under contract because he is still useful to me. He isn't like one of these," he waved his hand at the remaining body, "drones sin sentido you employ in your division. You can't slap what he has on just anyone and expect it to work. Trust me... I've tried."

Black heels sharply snapped against the linoleum floor as Valentino walked in front of the remaining employee. He cradled his gun in his hands, and admired how the rhinestones that adorned the side glittered his name in the overhead lights.

"Tony is like a clay, and I am his sculptor. He possessed talent, and I shaped it into something meaningful. We've seen that for ourselves. Without me, he was nothing, and if he thinks he can continue to ignore me, he will be nothing again."

Vox paused his digital game and returned his attention to the world around him. It was rare for his partner to display such a level of insight, and he couldn't help but raise a brow. His interest piqued once more, he raised himself up on his elbows and looked at Valentino.

The moth stood just in front of him, yet his eyes never left his gun. His grip on it seemingly tightened, then he threw his arms out to either side.

"I mean I made him a star, god dammit! Where's my fucking respect, huh? If that fucking slut thinks he can blow me off like this, I'm going to make him get on his hands and knees so he can remember how to do it properly. I could film it too, been a while since I starred in one of my own movies."

Vox tuned out his subsequent chuckle and rested back down, disappointed that he even gave him the benefit of doubt. But before he could relaunch his game, he saw Valentino look down at him.

"What do you think, baby? Still got another performance in me?"

Finally, something somewhat unrelated to Angel. Vox smiled and stood up. "Do you really have to ask? Or do I have to play you last night's recording?"

Valentino feigned a shocked gasp. "Voxxy! You didn't tell me you recorded that!"

While he appeared bashful, the look he gave Vox as he approached was anything but. So when the media mogul extended a hand, Valentino gladly accepted it with one of his own, before he got pulled into his embrace.

"I record everything, Val, you know that. Don't want to forget a single moment of our time together. I even have a server dedicated to you."

He raised his other hand to cup his cheek and the moth happily rested his head against it. A blush rose to his cheeks that made Vox's heart skip a beat. For as much as he would openly express his disinterest in his affairs, he could never lose his fixation with this man. He reserved a spot within him beyond that of his hard drive space.

These moments where there was no one else but them, where they held each other in equal captivation, were most serene. But, unfortunately for Vox, they never lasted long.

"Well, if I'm that good, perhaps I could do something with Angel-"

Vox flinched at the name. No, he wouldn't allow it this time. "Or," Vox grinned back at Valentino, "how about we go out? I'll treat you to something nice, then after that we make something of our own?"

Valentino bit his lip at the idea and shifted in place. Behind his heart-shaped lenses, he looked down between him and Vox. The televsion demon followed his gaze, and from the corner of his eye he saw he held a phone in one of his lower hands. He quickly looked back at Valentino before he realized, and the lustful sinner subsequently pocketed the device.

"Well, since my Angel doesn't seem to be answering my calls, I wouldn't mind going out. Been a while since that's happened too."

Although Valentino held no malice behind the observation, it grated on Vox nonetheless. He didn't let that show on his face, however, as he shifted his hands down to Valentino's waist. Then he reached back and stroked the inside of his wings, taking delight in how he shivered and moaned softly.

"Let's see if we can fix that, shall we?" He asked cockily.

When he glanced up at him, the moth held a hand over his mouth as if to block the sounds that fell from his lips. Vox didn't stop his touches until he had been left visibly shaken, at which point he replaced his hands on Valentino's hips. The moth released a breath he had held as he dropped his hand to join another on Vox's shoulders. He let them hang loosely while his lower hands similarly took Vox's sides to reflect how he positioned his hands on his body.

"You're such a tease," Valentino squeaked, which elicited a chuckle from Vox.

"Only cause I know you love it. Now, before we head out, you mind closing business for today?"

Valentino gave a confused hum and raised a brow, to which Vox subtlely tilted his head towards the employee who blankly watched their exchange unfold. He followed his gesture, then gave a soft noise of understanding; as if he had been reminded about neglected housework. Then he unceremoniously lifted his gun again and fired it once directly into the man's head.

Rather than form the same, beautiful heart pattern that the bullets made as they spread out from the gun, their impact caused his head to explode into a fine, black mist. He flew back as if hit by a car and toppled to the ground only a few feet away from the other two. Blood spilled quickly over the tiles and formed a thick puddle around the corpse. With that, their meeting had concluded.

As Valentino pocketed his gun, satisfied, and took a delighted Vox's hand, the twin doors that led into the room burst open.

"Aight, what the fuck is goin' on? When I heard the first gunshot I thought Valentino finally put one in ya, Vox. After the second, I thought he did 'imself in. So you mind tellin' me-"

Before she could rant any more, Velvette walked in far enough to see the small staging area where Vox had set up his veritable range for Valentino to use. The sight of those three bodies on the floor barely registered in her eyes. What caught her attention, however, was where they had been positioned.

"Oi, oi!" She snapped her fingers with an incredulous look and pointed at the corpse closest to her. "What the bloody hell were you thinkin' doin' this here? You see how close you are to the carpet?"

While the both of them looked down, Vox subsequentlu raised his head and flippantly hand-waved away her concern.

"Relax, Vel, their blood won't even be able to reach the carpet, I made sure to position them accordingly to avoid that."

"You better hope so, Vox, otherwise you're payin' to replace it, and not for cheap neither." She shook her head, then pulled out her phone and pointed its camera at the pile of bodies. "I assume the pissbaby is satisfied now?"

Valentino scowled at her. "What the fuck did you call me, puta?"

Vox raised a hand in front of his face and stopped him before he got riled up again. "He will be, later."

The insinuation caused Valentino to stammer and he turned his head away with a blush. His wings quivered behind his back.

Velvette grimaced as she tapped a new post into her socials about Valentino's latest temper tantrum. "I didn't need to hear that. Just as long as he won't shoot another one of my damn employees, it doesn't matter how he's feelin'."

Before Valentino could provide a rebuttal, Velvette turned on her heel and walked back to the doors. "Speaking of, gotta head back and clean up those messes 'fore they get any ideas to trudge around their disaster pieces in public. Later, V and V."

Vox and Valentino reciprocated with a similar, "Later, V," as she pushed through the doors and left them alone once more. Vox could tell the conversation only helped to undo some of the progress he made with him. His hands felt tense in his grasp, and he practically heard the wind that exhaled from his flared nostrils. And he didn't have to ask to know that he had thoughts to take up arms and blow off steam in a more personal way with a certain arachnid.

Fortunately he had him to rely on. He gave his hand a gentle squeeze and reminded him, "So, how does dinner sound?"

Valentino took a long breath through his nose, then sighed. "Sounds perfecto, my love."

Vox gave a self-satisfied chortle, then pulled Valentino down to his level. He placed a peck on his cheek that made the moth's eyes widen, before he let him stand back up to full height. A soft smile came over the moth's features, then he wrapped his arms around Vox's slim bicep. The magnate led them out in a close embrace, which left the carnage behind them to be disposed of by the tower's internal systems.

By the time they came back the floors would be clean, the corpses incinerated, and they'd be halfway into Valentino's room for their newest shoot. All in all, a very productive meeting.