#the quality is awful BUT the content is golden

[fandomfluffandfuck]

I am very normal about this behind the scenes photo 😮‍💨

[ohproserpine]

viii. deer dolly

see all chapters here tags: fem! reader, alastor tweaking, VERY heavy warning for violence and blood, overdose, murder, DEATH, hunting, VERY graphic descriptions of injuries, vox being painfully obvious, vox malfunctions (lmao L), drowning, flooding, mentions of glass piercing skin, a gun, threats of death, valentino warning, alastor's demon form

Alastor's head snapped to the side, with a sickening crack accompanying the movement

"Show me," he snarled, his voice taking on an inhuman quality, heavily filtered by radio waves.

Without hesitation, Angel gestured towards the billboard, his expression blank.

"Get in there, and see for ya'self."

.

A few blocks away, at the Vox Tower.

The heavy door before you swung open to reveal a diner. Chandeliers hung from the lofty ceiling, the crystals casting shattered reflections of light across the expanse of golden tables below. The centerpiece of the room was an expansive aquarium, its transparent walls housing sleek, metallic sharks that glided gracefully through the rose-tinted waters.

Vox guided you inside with a hand on your back, leading you towards a secluded booth. He was dressed in a neat, crisp royal blue suit, perfectly matching the attire chosen for you by Velvette. She had dressed you in a stunning cerulean silk dress that hugged your figure in all the right places. The fabric flowed gracefully as you moved, the long skirt sweeping across the floor with every step of your white heels.

"I didn't realize there was a restaurant tucked away in here," you whispered, your eyes widening in awe as you took in the glowing ambiance of the place.

"Well, we at VoxTek are full of surprises, my dear," Vox chuckled smoothly as he moved to pull back the chair at your table. "It's quite a diverse company."

"I see," you murmured, a sense of intrigue coloring your tone. Taking a step closer, you sank into the plush seat, a soft hum of contentment escaping your lips as you settled in. Vox pushed you in before taking his seat across from you. With a snap of his finger, he gestured for a nearby waiter to approach.

Once the menus were presented, Vox glanced over at you expectantly. "Feel free to order whatever you'd like, my dear. Consider it a treat for all your hard work." A waiter slid over a tablet for the bill, and Vox pulled out a sleek black card which he quickly swiped. "Take your time. We have all night to go over your contract."

Grateful for the gesture, you returned a smile before turning your attention to the menu, scanning the options while Vox took a sip from his glass of wine, the scarlet liquid swirling.

Before the moment could continue, however, a sudden wave of static crackled through the room, causing the tables to tremble, drinks spilling and tabletop decor tumbling aside as the lights flickered erratically. Startled, Vox choked on his drink, coughing as he accidentally spilled it on himself.

You looked around in worry, confusion furrowing your brow as you whipped your head around to assess the situation. A few of the patrons were talking amongst themselves in hushed tones, their concern mirroring your own.

"What was that…?" you asked, your voice barely audible above the din of the lingering static.

"Second fucking time," Vox grumbled under his breath as he attempted to wipe the wine off his crisp white dress shirt, but his efforts only seemed to smear the stain further across his chest. The crimson stain stark against the pristine fabric made it look as if he was just mauled.

With a resigned sigh, he abandoned his futile efforts and without a care in the world, tossed the soiled tablecloth back onto the table. Despite the mishap, he flashed you a reassuring smile.

"I'm sure it was nothing, my dear. Just a temporary glitch in the system. I'll have my workers look into it later," he said, waving it off.

Vox clapped his hands with a sharp, authoritative gesture, summoning a few waiters to swiftly clean up your table and retrieve the menus from your hands. They rushed over with a sense of urgency, their movements swift as they began tidying up the contents, the clatter of plates and silverware echoing through the air.

Meanwhile, a tall, slim blonde receptionist approached, her steps slow as she made her way towards Vox. Her slender fingers pushed her slim red glasses up on the bridge of her nose, accentuating the sharpness of her eyes as she addressed you both with a polite nod of her head.

"Mister Vox," she began, tapping a pen along her clipboard. "I have a few tables available for you upstairs. Would you like to transfer while we get the ground floor cleaned up?"

"Do that for us, will you?" Vox nodded, standing from the table with a sigh you couldn’t hear but could see in the slump of his shoulders. Straightening up, he brushed invisible dust off the front of his jacket and suit pants with swift, agitated motions.

"This day has been nothing but shit to me. The hell even was that?" Vox muttered under his breath as he glanced down at his watch, a luxurious 10-million soul bucks carat model he had allowed himself to purchase a few moons ago. "Alright. Time is ticking. Let's not waste any more time and move somewhere else, love."

With a nod, you followed suit and stood up, mirroring his movements as you prepared to leave the table. But before you could take a step, another round of static swept through the room, much stronger this time. The vibrations pulsed through the floor, causing you to stumble and grasp onto the table for support. The lights flickered and dimmed before abruptly going out, enveloping the room in darkness.

"What the fuck?" Vox snarled, the glow of his screen casting eerie shadows in the darkened environment as he turned sharply to the receptionist, the faint illumination of his face acting as a temporary flashlight.

"Get this checked out, will you?" Vox hissed.

"Of course, Mister Vox," the receptionist nodded briskly, maintaining her composure despite the chaos unfolding around her. Her pen scratched against the paper as she made a note of his request. "I'll have someone look into it right away."

"Satan. Alright, come on, doll," Vox called for you and slipped his hand into yours, interlocking them together with a firm grip. Reluctantly, you accepted his hand, feeling a sense of unease creeping over you as you followed him towards the staircase.

Together, you ascended the steps, the lingering sensation of static still hanging heavily in the air like an ominous fog. Another wave swept through the atmosphere, causing your skin to tingle with prickles and sending a shiver coursing up your spine.

Something was off.

The second floor was eerily quiet, devoid of the bustling activity in the ground floor. The subdued murmurs of the remaining patrons echoed faintly against the walls. You noticed that some of the only patrons left were already making their way down the stairs, their hurried footsteps punctuating the hushed atmosphere as they descended the glass steps.

As you scanned the area, your eyes landed on a TV perched high on the wall. Whatever show had been playing before was now reduced to nothing but static and glitches, its wires crackling with electricity like an angry serpent. Thin wisps of smoke curled up from the tangled mess.

"Doll?" Vox turned his head, catching your wandering eyes with a knowing look.

"I apologize for all this trouble, my dear, but worry not, everything will be handled in a jiffy," he reassured you, his thumb tracing soothing circles over your skin as he guided you by the railings.

Leaning his elbows against the metal, he took your hand into both of his, kneading and caressing it as he grumbled to himself. "If I knew this was going to happen, I would have taken you out another night."

"Well, there's no way you could have seen that coming," you muttered as you turned your gaze towards the ground floor. Below, various demons and imps scurried around, attempting to manage the chaos. With a shrug, you moved to lean against the railings, the cool metal soothing against your skin.

Resting your cheek on your free hand, you continued, "I mean, there's always another day. We can even hash out the contract right now."

At your words, Vox visibly deflated, a wry smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he cast you a dry look. "Always so professional, are you?"

"Yes?" you replied with a nod, tilting your head in genuine curiosity. "Is that bad?"

"No, not at all," Vox huffed, a barely concealed smile playing at the corners of his lips as he pulled you closer to him. "It's actually quite charming."

With a yelp, you stumbled into his arms, your hands pressing against his chest for balance. Vox leaned in further, his left hand coming to rest on your back, his touch gentle yet firm as he looked deep into your eyes.

"But would it be bad to say I wanted something more?" he murmured, a pinkish gradient tint glowing softly on his screen, casting a warm and inviting glow across his features.

You blinked, caught off guard by his sudden intimacy. "Something more?" you echoed, your voice barely above a whisper.

His gaze softened, his thumb gently tracing the curve of your cheek, his touch tender against your skin.

"Yes, my dear," he murmured, trailing his thumb down to press and part your lips. "Something… personal."

"I-I don't really get what you're telling me," you stammered, your heart pounding in your chest. As Vox leaned in closer and closer, you found yourself backing away until you could no longer retreat, your back arching dangerously over the railings.

"Then perhaps it's best if I show you," he whispered, his voice barely above a breath, as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small velvet box.

Popping the lid open, a familiar golden band sat inside, glimmering softly in the dim light of the room. Your eyes widened with recognition, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

"My ring," you gasped, your fingers trembling slightly as you reached out to pluck the precious jewelry from its box. However, your hand halted in midair as you noticed an unfamiliar engraving gleaming on its honey-colored surface. A wavy symbol was etched onto it, its silver detailing standing out against the smooth gold of the ring.

"Vox, what's… what's this?" you asked, your voice trembling slightly as your eyes darted back and forth between the two sights. You could feel a hot fire starting to coil in your gut, your skin already slowly cracking. "What'd you do?"

Vox's expression remained impassive for a moment before softening with a touch of vulnerability. "It's a symbol, my dear," he explained, his voice gentle as he slowly took your hand and raised it to his lips. "A symbol of our… partnership."

"Partnership?" you echoed, your eyes tracing the movement of his lips as he pressed a gentle kiss to your fingers.

"You'd make a good wife," he blurted out, catching you off guard. Your gaze shot up to meet his, wide with surprise, as his declaration hung in the air between you. "I could provide for you. I could make you happy. Give you anything, anything you want."

A clawed hand, its digits tipped with sharp, pointed nails, delicately plucked the ring out of its velvet cushion. Taking your hand in his, he gently slipped the ring onto your finger, his touch sending a shiver down your spine. Before you could even process what had just happened, a wave of static washed over the room, crackling through the air like tiny bolts of lightning, causing him to curse under his breath.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" he growled.

The room trembled again as another wave of static hit, this time with greater intensity than any of the past waves. The floors shook beneath your feet, the building groaned in protest, and you stumbled forward with a gasp, your knees buckling under the force of the tremors. Desperately, you reached out to grab onto Vox for support, clinging to him as the world seemed to tilt and sway around you.

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed the receptionist stumbling toward you both. Her calm demeanor had vanished, replaced by frantic movements and panic in her voice.

"Sir, sir!" she huffed, her words punctuated by labored breaths as she stumbled to her feet. Her hair was disheveled, and her clothes were torn. "The building is under attack!"

"Attack?" Vox scoffed out in disbelief, his shoulders shaking from his laughter. "Who in Lucifer's name would even think of crossing me?"

The receptionist shook her head vigorously, her eyes wide with terror, strands of her disheveled hair clinging to her sweaty forehead.

"The radio demon," she rasped out, her voice barely above a whisper, laden with fear.

You froze, your hands shaking as they moved to cover your gaping mouth. Another wave of static shook the building, but your thoughts were scattered, unable to focus amidst the chaos.

Vox's grip tightened on you and the handle of the railings, his claws raking against the metal with a sharp scrape. His expression slowly shifted, the laughter fading as a dangerous seriousness settled over him. He took a deep breath, shutting his eyes briefly before looking back at the receptionist with a dark glint in his eyes, a storm brewing within him.

"What did you just say?"

Before a response could be made, an explosion thundered through the floor, sending debris and dust swirling through the air. In shock, you watched as tendrils of inky shadows began to writhe and thrash, lashing out and slamming into the walls with bone-shaking force.

A particularly powerful tendril crashed against the aquarium, its force shattering the glass and unleashing a deluge of water that flooded down through the ground floor, drowning the patrons below. The sharks were caught in the torrent, their powerful bodies tossed and thrashed about as they were swept away.

Another tendril snaked its way through the dust, wrapping around the receptionist with a vice-like grip before flinging her high into the air like a ragdoll. The desperate cries of the poor woman echoed through the room before abruptly falling silent as she slammed into a wall with a sickening thud.

"Fuck—" Vox cursed, pulling you into him. His arms tightened around you protectively as he scanned the scene, his eyes darting around in search of any functioning piece of technology that could offer an escape and allow him to teleport you both out. However, his efforts proved futile; every piece of tech in the room was malfunctioning, either from the rampant waves of static or the overflow of water from the shattered aquarium.

Creak.

Suddenly, there was a deafening sound, cutting through the air and the chandelier above you both began to tilt dangerously, its crystals catching the flickering light before it started falling. Vox's curses mingled with the din as he swiftly scooped you into his arms, his muscles straining under the weight as he sprinted away just in the nick of time. With a thunderous crash, the chandelier came hurtling down, shattering into a thousand glittering fragments upon impact with the floor.

The glass shrapnel, propelled by the force of the chandelier's collapse, began to ricochet in your direction. Reacting swiftly, Vox made a split-second decision and hurled you over the railing and onto the ground floor. Screaming, you landed with a thud, the shallow water from the shattered aquarium splashing around you, soaking your dress and sending a shiver down your spine. However, Vox's own descent was less fortunate. As he jumped to follow, a few sharp glass shards found their mark, piercing his metallic body, tearing through his frame, and exposing the wires beneath.

"Ah…" Pushing yourself off the floor, you grappled with a moment of hazy confusion before a shock of fiery pain shot up your leg, so intense that your body instinctively recoiled, nails clawing at the flooded floors. A scream threatened to escape your lips, but you bit it back, your breath catching in your throat. Your eyes blinked rapidly against the pain, struggling to adjust to the darkness surrounding you.

Everything blurred together in a mess of shadows and rushing water. Your breaths grew heavy and frantic, your heart pounding in your chest as you began to shake from the sheer intensity of the pain.

"Doll—!" Vox's voice crackled through the darkness, his form glitching and sparking from the water that seeped into his exposed circuits. Before his outstretched hand could reach you, shadowed tendrils snaked around him, yanking him away with a jolt and tossing him aside, sending him skidding into a nearby column.

You watched in horror, the dim light reflecting off the wet floor and casting eerie shadows on your face. Just then, the tendrils, like twisted serpents, slithered towards you, causing you to shut your eyes tight, bracing for the impending danger.

Time seemed to stand still as you lay there, your breaths shallow and rapid, every nerve on edge.

Still, nothing happened.

Slowly, cautiously, you dared to open your eyes, your vision blurred. As your sight cleared, you found yourself face to face with a familiar shadow.

"William?" you croaked out, your voice raspy from the exertion. William, Alastor's loyal shadow, perked up eagerly at the sound of your voice, its form undulating as it slithered around you, enveloping you in a gentle embrace.

With a weak smile, you raised a trembling hand to pat at the comforting darkness. "Hey, buddy…"

Your attention was abruptly torn away as a red blur darted towards the spot where Vox had been slammed into. Shock seized you, freezing you in place as you watched with wide eyes, feeling your pulse pounding against your chest and skull in a frantic rhythm.

William followed your gaze, his form stiffening as he silently scanned the area for any sign of danger. After a tense minute of no one seen nor heard, he turned back to you, his shadowy head tilting in confusion.

With quivering lips you uttered one name that had explained everything, "Alastor."

.

"Mgh!" Vox grunted as he collided with the wall. The sickening crack tore through his body as he crumpled to the floor amidst a splash of sparking wires, debris, and hanging metal. His systems went haywire, his vision obscured by flashes of glitches and static, each burst of light stabbing into his consciousness like searing knives.

Despite the system failures, Vox couldn't miss the sight of a familiar red-clad demon stalking towards him with a menacing grin etched on his face.

"You..."

Struggling to move, the overlord felt his arm pinned under debris, the weight pressing down on him like a vise, squeezing the air from his lungs. Gritting his teeth against the pain, he sucked in a breath. Each inhale felt like fire scorching his insides.

Finding the leverage, with closed eyes and clenched fists, Vox braced himself and pushed with one hand while the other pulled, every movement sending waves of torment shooting through his body like bolts of lightning.

There was a sickening crack, the sound drowned out by the deafening roar of static and electricity that erupted from him. His back arched involuntarily, nerves and sinew spasming, his body instinctively attempting to curl in on itself to shield against the onslaught of pain as he ripped his arm off. Opening his mouth to scream, Vox found no voice escaping, only a glitched, distorted wheeze.

"My, my," Alastor chuckled, his voice dripping with sadistic amusement as he watched Vox dry-heave from the pain, relishing every moment of his torment. "Good show! Ho-ho! It's always such a thrill to witness your suffering."

"Wh-Wh-What the fuck do you want, old man?" Vox's voice glitched out as he shakily got to his knees, beads of water dripping and soaking through his suit, mingling with the blood and grime that coated his skin. The stench of metallic decay hung heavy in the air, mixed with the acrid scent of burning wires.

"You've got some nerve coming for me straight at my base," he shouted out, his screen flashing with a fierce red hue. "I've got you at a disadvantage!"

Alastor raised a brow in mocking surprise, twisting his head side to side to survey the torn-up tower with exaggerated interest. "Who's at a disadvantage?" he quipped with a shrug, his tone laced with derision as he gestured casually at the chaos surrounding them.

"I'm not the one on my knees, old pal," Alastor mused, his tongue dripping with sinister amusement as he tapped his staff against the flooded floors, the sound echoing. In one, swift motion, a shadow shot out, piercing Vox's shoulder and pinning him back against the wall, the tendrils coiling around him like a vice.

"Fuck you!" Vox hissed, his anger boiling over as he shot out wires of his own. Alastor made no attempt to dodge, staying put as the wires struck through his shoulder, flesh and muscle spraying out in a grisly display. Despite the gruesome injury, Alastor seemed unfazed, tilting his head with an audible crack, his grin widening into something unsettling.

"Sloppy," Alastor spat, blood trickling down the side of his mouth and dripping down his chin. With deliberate slowness, he raised a hand to grasp at the wires, his fingers curling around them with a sickening creak as he pulled them out.

"What the fuck are you even here for?!" Vox screamed.

"Funny you should ask," Alastor mused, his empty gaze boring into Vox's screen. Shadows wrapped around his injured shoulder, forming a makeshift bandage, while his other tendrils reached out, snaking towards Vox's ankles and forcibly dragging him forward. The demon fell onto his back, briefly submerged in the water as he was pulled towards Alastor.

Humming, Alastor slammed his foot down on Vox's torn arm, eliciting a scream of pain as sparks shot out. Chuckling, the Radio Delon hand came down hard, driving Vox's own wire into his eye with a sickening crack, causing the screen to fracture in a spiderweb of cracks.

"I'm here for my wife."

"Wife?" Vox narrowed his eye at Alastor in confusion for a moment, his screen flashing with red, blue, and yellow hues, before widening in recognition at the sight of a golden glint on Alastor's mangled, clawed hands.

Immediately, he snarled, his voice barely audible over the glitches and static, "I ain't telling you shit."

"Oh," Alastor drawled slowly, twirling his cane in his hands with a devilish grin. "You will."

Alastor moved with startling speed, lunging forward to grasp Vox's arms with his bare hands. With a vicious snarl, he began to tear at Vox's chest cavity, his claws digging into the metal casing with a sickening screech as he began to pull it off. Vox screamed in pain, his systems protesting against the assault, but he fought back, unleashing a flurry of sparks and glitches in a desperate attempt to break free.

"Old piece of shit!" Vox roared, his words dripping with venom as he punctuated them with a furious pound of his fist against the ground. Leaning up, he lunged forward, his hand shooting out to scratch at Alastor's eye with a scream of rage. "Radio's fucking dead!"

"You've got quite the fight in you, don't you?" Alastor's laughter echoed through the room as he jolted back from Vox's retaliatory strike.

With a casual flick of his hand, he wiped the crimson blood from his cheek, strands of his hair falling over the new scar that marred his face. "But I'm afraid spirit won't be enough to save your worthless life."

Alastor leaned down, his muscles tensing as his fist crashed into Vox's broken eye with a crack, causing the screen to fracture further. Lifting Vox by his collar, Alastor brought him closer to his face with a snarl.

"Radio killed the video star."

Alastor's tendrils coiled like vipers ready to strike, but before he could unleash them, a sudden crash of debris behind him jolted his attention. With a swift twist of his head, he peered over his shoulder.

Against the backdrop of the dark brick wall loomed a disheveled figure, her rosy cheeks and tousled hair framing her big, doll-like eyes. The shimmering of a necklace with a delicate rose pendant around her neck caught his attention, and in an instant, he recognized you.

Your hand pressed firmly against the wall for balance, while his shadow, William, enveloped your waist, supporting your weight. The fabric of your dress clung to your drenched skin, torn in parts, with one heel missing from your sprained foot. Streaks of makeup ran down your face, smudged by tears that threatened to spill from your eyes. You sniffled, your face flushed with warmth as a burning pain spread to your throat, choking back every sob that threatened to escape.

"Al…"

Alastor didn't know what to do with himself.

Every muscle in his body tensed, locking him in place as if he were frozen in time. In his shock, Vox slipped from his grip, crashing to the ground in a heap of metallic clangs and crackling wires.

With cautious steps, he stepped forward, testing the waters, metaphorically and literally. To his surprise, there was no barrier, no force pushing him back, and no contract manifesting before him.

"Cher?" he called out, breathless.

The sobbing wail that escaped your lips was answer enough.

Heart pounding in his chest, Alastor rushed forward and caught you in a desperate hug. His arms enveloped your trembling form tightly, as if he could shield you from the world's horrors just by holding you close. You sobbed against him, your nails digging into his shoulders, your body going limp like a puppet whose strings had just been cut. His hand flew up to cradle the back of your head, his touch both tender and urgent, his claws grazing your skin slightly in his desperation.

The smile on his face long dropped. His muscles tensed as he whispered your name over and over again like a mantra, each repetition a plea to whatever higher power might be listening.

For the first time in decades, Alastor felt fear grip his heart in its grimy claws. His eyes remained wide open, unblinking, as if he feared that closing them would make you vanish before his very eyes.

"Mon cœur," you heard the dark timbre in his voice, the faint crackle of radio static lingering in the air. Your husband drew his head back, and you winced at the loss of touch, but he immediately dove back in, pressing his lips against yours in a long overdue kiss. The taste of his metallic blood flooded your mouth, but you couldn't bring yourself to care.

Sighing against his lips, you tilted your head and pressed yourself further against him and Alastor grunted in response, his clawed hands mapping up the curve of your hips and moving up to your chest, pressing his palm flat against your heart to feel its steady rhythm. It beat for him, raced and throbbed because of him

You trembled beneath his touch, more tears slipping from your eyes, dribbling down your cheeks.

"That’s it, cher," he hushed. "My sweet girl. You’re alright. Everything’s going to be alright."

His hand reached out, cupping both of yours firmly, causing your rings to clink together. His thumb gently traced over the back of your right hand, caressing the golden band.

Alastor paused, his fingertips gliding over the unfamiliar texture of an engraving on the ring, a curious furrow creasing his brow as he moved back in to examine your hands. You hesitantly allowed his inspection, silently noting the subtle twitches on his blank expression.

Despite the tenderness of his touch, Alastor's face remained devoid of his usual smile. His eyes flickered up to meet yours, silently asking for an explanation, and you answered the unspoken question immediately.

"Vox."

With just one word, Alastor immediately understood. A fleeting smile graced his lips as he pressed a final tender kiss to both of your eyelids before his grin returned in full force. he snapped his head back to face Vox, holding you close in his arms, supporting your weight due to your broken ankle. "It seems we have some unfinished business."

"Yeah, we fucking do," a new voice interjected, causing both you and Alastor to whirl around.

Velvette and Valentino made their presence known as they stood stoically by the entrance, their disheveled appearances and visible injuries painting a picture of the struggle that had unfolded. Every bruise, every torn piece of clothing seemed to speak on its own of the relentless assault Alastor had unleashed upon the building. It was clear that they had endured their fair share of the battle.

"Come."

Velvette reached her hand out, and you felt an odd sensation of tugging at your neck. Suddenly, a hot pink collar materialized around you, and before you could react, you were forcefully pulled forward with a sharp yank. The sudden movement caused you to stumble several feet, your injured ankle buckling beneath you with a jolt. A scream ripped from your throat, the intensity of the pain washing your vision with a blaring flash of white.

Valentino immediately grabbed you by the hair, wrenching you up as though you were nothing more than a prize to be claimed. "You want her? Well, we're going to have to make a deal," he taunted.

Something primal gnawed and snarled at Alastor's insides. Even in the brief seconds since you were torn away from him, the ache for your presence already began to consume him, searing through his veins like a wildfire. It cut him deeper than any of the physical wounds he received. He had just gotten you, and now you were being torn away from him once more.

He wanted to scream, to tear at his own flesh in anguish, to rip through the barriers separating him from you until he could hold you close once more.

And if he had to paint the sidewalks of hell with the blood of these vermin to achieve that, then he would stop at nothing to see it through.

"There's not going to be a deal. I doubt anything you can offer would be of any value," Alastor's grin twisted into a snarl, his eyes flashing red. With a swift motion, he slammed his staff against the floor, unleashing a blare of crackling energy and swirling shadows into the air. "I'm going to end your fucking lives."

"Ay, calm down," Valentino snarled, his voice dripping with menace as he spread his wings, casting a shadow over the room. Dipping a hand into his coat pocket, he drew his gun and pressed it tight against your temple, the cold metal sending a shiver down your spine. Sweat beaded on your forehead as the searing burn of the barrel pressed against your skin, a silent threat hanging in the air.

You didn’t realize you were crying until you felt Valentino's thumb run across your cheek, the demon cooing at you as if you were a child. Blinking away the tears, you opened your eyes to find Alastor's figure standing out vividly amidst the chaos, his red suit and hair glowing like fire against the darkness.

Like blood.

Alastor's entire body practically shook with anger, the shadows in the corners of the room writhing and twisting.

Their tainted blood should never dare to soil your skin, nor should the gaze of these wretches ever dare to tarnish your beautiful visage. In his eyes, you were pure and untainted, and above all, you belonged to him.

Only him.

"Now," Valentino chuckled, a twisted smile playing on his lips as he reached out to pet your head with a hand, his fingernails sharp and threatening. "It's really not worth the trouble. So why don't you stop this tantrum, grab your little bitch, and get out? She's not this fucking valuable to us."

"D-D-D-Don't!" Vox's voice crackled from his spot on the floor, his one functional arm trembling as he struggled to rise.

"Oh, shut the fuck up," Velvette scowled, her nails digging into the fabric of her torn dress as she hurled your contract towards Alastor with a vicious flick of her wrist. "Do we have a fucking deal?"

Alastor's hand shot out, snatching the contract mid-air before it could reach the ground. Holding it aloft, he tore it apart with a savage rip, the sound of paper shredding echoing like thunder through the room.

"Deal."

Instantly, the chains restraining you dissolved, and Valentino moved away from you. You felt a gentle tug as Alastor's swirling shadows guided you towards him. His arm enveloped you protectively, pulling you close as if shielding you from any further harm. His wide-eyed gaze remained fixed on Velvette and Valentino, a silent warning in his stance.

"I'll make sure you regret ever crossing us," Alastor declared with a menacing growl, summoning a swirling portal of shadows behind him as he slowly backed away, pulling you along with him. Before departing, he deftly removed your engraved ring from your finger and tossed it in Vox's direction.

"Radio isn't dead," Alastor snarked as the shadowed portals began to envelop you both, their inky tendrils curling around you like a shroud, "but this broadcast is coming to an end."

With that, you and Alastor vanished into the swirling shadows, leaving the three figures standing amidst the aftermath.

The building lay in ruins, reduced to disrepair. Water trickled down from the shattered remnants of the aquarium, its glass now fractured and broken, mingling with the thick dust that hung in the air like a shroud. From top to bottom, no room was left untouched by the devastation wrought on by the Radio Demon.

Velvette stood rigid in the center of the room, her figure shadowed as she bore her intense gaze into Vox. The TV demon scoffed dismissively, his broken screen flickering erratically, casting disjointed shadows across the room.

"I'm killing her," Velvette declared.

"Who?" Vox croaked, doing his best to sit up as Valentino helped him to his feet.

Velvette clenched her teeth, her frustration boiling over as she stepped forward and forcefully slammed her heels down on Vox's legs, sending him slamming back down, the sound echoing in the room. She spat in his fractured screen, her voice dripping with venom.

"I'M FUCKING KILLING HER!"

.

"Don'tcha worry about a thing, sweetheart!" Mimzy chirped cheerfully, her voice ringing out above the din of the crowded bar. Balancing a huge stack of beer in her arms, she maneuvered skillfully through the maze of tables, dodging patrons and obstacles with ease. The dim lights of the bar reflected off the bottles, casting shimmering patterns across the worn wooden surface, while the faint scent of alcohol lingered in the air, mingling with chatter and laughter.

Arriving at the table, a group of men erupted in hollers and cheers. Mimzy giggled in response, her laughter joining the chorus of noise as she shot a playful wink in their direction. With a bit too much force, she shoved the tray onto the table, causing the overflowing glasses to slosh and liquor to spill onto the tabletop.

"Enjoy!"

With a toss of her hair, she sauntered away, her heels echoing against the wooden floorboards as she made her way towards the entrance. The club was delightfully full tonight, and Mimzy could practically taste the mouthwatering green of money already.

But just as she reached the doorway, a hand grabbed her, yanking her out into the darkness beyond. The blonde's cheery demeanor disappeared in an instant as she found herself shoved up against a nearby wall.

The cold grime and mysterious mold clinging to the brick surface sent a shiver down her spine, the dampness seeping through her clothes and chilling her to the bone. The dim light from the bar seemed to fade into obscurity as the darkness of the alley enveloped her, suffocating her senses. Panic surged within her as she struggled against her assailant.

"Hey! What gives—" Mimzy began, but her words caught in her throat as she realized she was face to face with Velvette. The overlord looked disoriented and disheveled in the dimly lit alleyway, her clothes torn and her hair in disarray. Her eyes, usually sharp and calculating, now held a wild, frenzied glint.

"There you are," Velvette's grip on Mimzy's dress tightened, her nails digging deep into the fabric and piercing skin, sending a sharp twinge of pain through the blonde. "I've been looking for you."

The blonde recoiled as Velvette's claws trailed up her throat, leaving a trail of stinging scratches in their wake. The metallic smell of blood flooded her nose as one of Velvette's nails grazed over her skin, catching on the delicate chain of her necklace and tugging it slightly.

With a trembling voice, Mimzy managed to choke out, "Oh! W-What do you need me for, sugar?"

Velvette's lips curled into a sinister smile, the glint of her sharp teeth shining under the alley lights.

"Oh, just a little chat," she replied, her voice dripping with malice. "Aren't you curious about what's been happening in your absence? Some skeletons in a closet got dug up."

The blonde's eyes widened, her heart pounding in her chest as she realized the gig was up.

"I didn't—!" she started, but her protest was cut short by the sickening thud of Velvette's fist against the wall beside her. Cracks spiderwebbed across the brickwork, the crumbling debris cascading to the ground in a cloud of dust.

"Don't lie to me," Velvette hissed, as she leaned down to the blondes height, meeting her face to face. "You knew who she was. And you helped him."

"I-I didn't know," Mimzy lied straight through her teeth, trembling in her heels. "I swear, Velvette. I didn't know anything about his wife."

"Don't play dumb with me, bitch. You knew full well who she was," the overlord snarled.

With a derisive laugh, she threw her head back and added, "But you couldn't even keep it under wraps! You got fucking ratted out in less than 2 days!"

"No! No, I swear on my life, sugar!" Mimzy pleaded, her voice trembling as she shook her head, her golden curls bouncing around her shoulders. "I was just a stray bullet!"

But Velvette's expression remained cold and unforgiving, her eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"You fucking liar," she spat, her voice dripping with venom.

A flash of silver caught Mimzy's eye, and she flinched as she saw the dagger in Velvette's hand. The cold metal glinted with a blue glow in the dim light of the alley, its edges sharp and sleek.

It was angelic iron, and the very sight of it sent bile rushing up her throat.

It hurt her eyes to look at the dagger, its presence filling her with a sense of dread she couldn't shake. But despite the fear coursing through her veins, she couldn’t tear her gaze away. She was frozen in place, like a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming car.

But then, there was a sudden blur of movement.

"Wait!"

A sharp, searing pain shot through Mimzy, causing her to gasp. The sensation of blood trickling down her skin sent waves of nausea through her, and she dry heaved, struggling to keep herself upright.

Her eyes remained locked on the smeared blood on the steel lodged in her, the sight both horrifying and mesmerizing. It was so revolting, so surreal, that she failed to suppress a shudder of dread as she stared at it, transfixed by the grim reality of her impending fate.

Coldness began to envelop her, seeping into her bones as the darkness closed in around her like a suffocating cloak. Dark spots danced at the edges of her vision as the edges of her consciousness blurred and faded. She felt herself slipping away, consumed by the shadows, as the alleyway swallowed her whole.

Velvette let the body drop, the dull thud echoing in the desolate alleyway. A twisted feeling of satisfaction flooded her veins, coursing through her with a sickening thrill.

The harsh glow of the streetlights cast eerie shadows across her features as she surveyed the aftermath of her actions. With a flick of her head, she turned away from the lifeless form, her cracked heels echoing against the cold pavement as she disappeared into the darkness, leaving behind a trail of crimson steps in her wake.

"And so it begins."

.

[jarofstyles]

Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy- Patreon

Hello! We’ve been getting asks about what our series are about, and we wanted to show you guys a little piece of what we have on there 🫶 this is a series about rancher and cowboy h, and Y/N is very happy to be getting a job out on the infamous ranch with her passion for the horses and the beauty of the land.

WC- 1.6k

Here is our sneak peek! You can join us on Patreon for multiple exclusive series (100+ pieces) and early access to our writing.

——-

The place was fucking gorgeous… but that didn’t seem to compare to the cowboy showing her around. Jesus Christ, the man was something of a movie star quality man.

He was polite and charming. Holding his hand out to take hers when they’d have to move over a bit of rougher terrain, his calloused fingers gently caressing hers with a sly smile. The hat on his head shaded his eyes so he could look properly, giving her eye contact the entire time. Chillingly hot eye contact that had her feeling a bit weak in the knees. Soft green, greener than the grass in the fields that sprawled the ranch.

“I think you’d like workin’ here. It’s a family for sure.” He hummed, moving his hat off to brush his longer locks out of his face and adjusting the hat back on. He was bronzed and golden skinned from working outside, a light dusting of freckles just barely visible from her distance. Carved cheekbones and sharp jawline but dimples deeper than the valley, he was a god like being standing in front of her with a sweet disposition he probably hid a bit from others.

“I think so, yes. It’s my dream. You know? It’s a bit cheesy to some at the school… everyone’s always dreaming to run off to the city. But I love the place. The animals. The air.” She murmured, looking around the ranch. Y/N was hyper aware of the warm form of the man next to her, and the fact he was looking at her. Never had she experienced such an attentive man in terms of talking to her. No checking of his phone, no looking away.

She also was unaware of how Harry was genuinely a bit in awe of her. The starry eyed cowboy drinking in her essence and watching carefully as she spoke. Observing the details he hadn’t managed before. Beating himself up over not having known her before. Because, how? A girl in their area who wanted to stay? Who genuinely loved his land? That was a rarity. It wasn’t going to take much to have him be taken with her.

“I think that’s Amazin’.” He smiled, placing his hand on the small of her back and leading her towards the barn where their personal horses were kept. “You’re like me then. Content with home. Everyone says… they want wild adventures. Don’t even bother lookin’ in their own backyard. And that’s a damn shame, cause there’s plenty.” He spoke as they walked. Her eyes trailed his petal pink lips, the slight stubble left on the skin on his face, the radiance in his entire being. Harry was truly one of a kind. Even with dirt smudged on his jeans, clunky cowboy boots and the occasional scratch on his hand he managed to be graceful and smooth.

“Exactly.” She chirped, excited that he got it. “To me… there’s nothing like the festivals downtown. Learning to make new things. Finding a new watering hole or mapping out the land. I love the bonfires and cookouts. I don’t know. I find there’s a beauty in simplicity.” She turned to look at him, eyes squinted for a moment before they adjusted to the sun. It was beautiful outside despite the heat. The blue skies elevated her mood, but she did think that it was mostly attributed to the man guiding her around.

Harry felt his heart swell and a round of hopeful caterpillar‘s making their cocoons inside of his stomach. So many times he’s been hoping to find someone of a similar mindset. Someone he could get close to and not worry about them wanting to run off later down the line. It just felt… nice. Comforting. Knowing someone else felt the same as he did.

“You get me, Sweets.” He lightly flexed his hand on her back as his smile widened. Harry was a skeptic romantic. Meaning he held his cards close before he let them show. He’s flirt and tease but playfully. It wasn’t real unless he felt secure. Something he felt more and more of each time this pretty girl opened her mouth. A dangerous combination for him.

His approval made her giddy, having to stop herself from skipping as he opened the barn door up with a creaky slide. “We’re getting new doors on the barn so it doesn’t cause such a ruckus. But this barn is for our personal horses. I’ve got a few, but my soul partner is right over here.” He led her over to a large black stallion. A white star shaped mark right between his eyes. “His name is Perseus. Or Percy, for short.” He grinned widely at the giggle that left her mouth, his hand stroking over his nose with gentle affection.

“Percy, hm?” She looked at Harry for approval before stroking the side of the horse’s strong neck. “What a beautiful big boy.” A gentle coo had the hose sighing. A sign of relaxation, making her beam. “Yes, you are a strong, Handsome one. I can tell.” Her hands worked over the front of the horse with a cooed affection that had Harry- in simpler terms- about to act up.

He was far closer to his horses than people realized. He loved his animals and had a special connection to them, but especially Percy. His best friend. He’d gotten him for his 21st, and ever since they’d been attached at the hip. “Oh, he likes you.” His deep voice rumbled through her stomach and almost made her jump. “He doesn’t usually take to stranger so fast. Got ‘im begging for attention. He will eat it up when he like ‘ya.”

So would Harry. He felt a little pathetic being jealous for wanting the girl to be stroking at his face like that. She had smooth hands.

“Does he get that from his Daddy?”

The giggled tease had Harry caught of guard but sent him into a laugh, head thrown back at the gall. This woman was something else… and it was calling right to him. A bit of banter was sexy. Especially teasing.

“Maybe so. But it takes a special woman to get men like us to behave like mere pups.” He hummed, leaning his hip against the stall door.

“Mhm. I bet that’s true.” She looked at him from under her lashes with a coy smile before returning her attention to the stallion.

I’ll be damned. He thought. This was the fastest a woman had managed to tangle Harry up in a lasso, but it seemed like he was pulling it tighter than she had even meant to.

“How many personal horses are then?” Her question snapped him out of his fantasy in his mind. Not an appropriate one to be having about a staff member but Harry knew that in his gut, she would be far more than that.

“I have 3. Percy, here.” He nudged his chin towards him. “Then we’ve got Athena. And Cash.” He pointed towards a paint mare and a chestnut… what seemed to be thoroughbred stallion. “Those are mine. Over there are my fathers two, and my mothers one though she doesn’t ride often. Hers is used more for riding lessons and all that. Sister got some too. So… 8. We got room for two more personal. Staff and ranch hands, if they got ‘Em, keep them in the commercial barns. There’s a lot of ‘em here.” Though she knew that. “I’m assuming you’ll like to spend time with all of them.”

“Well… Percy is a favorite so far.” She grinned towards the horse. “But you’d be right. I adore all animals but horses.. they’re a soft spot for me. I want to have a few of my own one day.” She said it shyly. It was stupid to be shy and Y/N knew that. Harry got it more than anymore but there was still that residual shame she felt from peers when she said she was happy where she was and wanted to keep going. She didn’t have the same wanderlust as everyone else.

“Hey.” He took a risk, gently lifting her chin up with his thumb. “Nothin’ wrong with that. Don’t know why you’re embarrassed when m’the one who just gushed over lovin’ my horses.” He teased lightly, keeping those pretty eyes of hers locked with his. “I’m glad… I’ve met someone who’s like me. Everyone in a rush to leave and fail to see how much fun and how beautiful life can be when you enjoy what you’ve got. The horses, the nature, everything. Everyone at school has those big city dreams. That’s fine n’dandy for them, but you n’me? We get it. We like how we were raised and we are comfortable being here. Don’t let ‘em haunt you. You can be open here. In fact… I’d love to see more of you like that. It’s not every day you come across a pretty little thing with a good head on her shoulders. My momma will eat you up and be happy you’re around. Some sense, she’ll say.” He gently stroked her chin before letting his hand drop. It was pathetic for her to miss the rough pad of the finger on her smooth skin, but she did.

“Yeah?” She asked shyly, looking up at him while shifting back and forth from heel to toe. A childlike comfort that Harry found to be fucking adorable.

“Yeah, Darlin’. Don’t worry about any of ‘em here. You’ve got me… and a whole load of other folks who have pride in loving where they’re from. “ he paused, taking in the sparkly flint in her eyes though she was a bit shy. It made him feel all the more eager to protect her, to make her see she was one of them. “I think you’ll fit in here just fine.”

[bomberqueen17]

liveblogging the aubreyad 1: Master & Commander

ok so. i'm going to liveblog my reread of the Patrick O'Brian Jack Aubrey series of books, in potentially more or less detail, because it's something to do and it's funny. Starting with book 1, Master & Commander, copyright date 1969, which I definitely first read in like 1991 when I was waaaaay too young to understand approximately half the references. There will be spoilers. There may or may not be an accurate representation of the entire contents of the series. We'll see how long I keep this up. I wish I could write it in the entertaining style of my Wee Precious Flower Prince Geralt Witcher 3 playthroughs of yore but those were written under 1) quarantine confinement, 2) incredible amounts of gin, 3) after collaborative sessions, and I just can't make that happen solo.

But I will do my poor, reduced, older and more sedate best. I promise that while these books are not quite as dramatically crack-addled as Witcher 3, they are weirder than you think, which is critical.

OK so. We start off swinging with the meet-ugly. In fair Port Mahon we lay our scene, in the year 1800 (or 1801?? we also start off swinging with never quite having the tiny details quite laid down), we meet our fair hero Jack Aubrey, a six-foot, well-built, yellow-haired lieutenant in the Royal Navy, a cheerful high-spirited cove who immediately pisses off the unpleasant little man sitting next to him at this chamber music concert by singing along to the music. Relatable reaction by the unpleasant little man, to be sure. Aubrey is having a bad time, though— he has not been promoted and he doesn’t have a ship so he has nothing to do but get in trouble, and his spirits are too low to get into a fight with the unpleasant little man, though he briefly considers it. We soon find out that the sole bright spot in Jack's life is that he's fucking his boss’s wife, which seems like a bad idea but who are we to judge. But lo! He gets back to the inn where he’s staying only to find a letter informing him that he has been promoted! He is now the master and commander of his very own ship, which we are informed is a sloop. Also throwing us into the deep end of Listen Baby It’s Just Vibes. The nautical language and technical shit comes fast and thick and if you just sort of roll with it you figure it out. Don’t Worry About It. There Will Be Context Clues.

Now that Jack is professionally fulfilled he is happy, and so the next morning when he happens to see his unpleasant little man from the previous night, he shows his true colors: he immediately bounds across the street and wholeheartedly, unreservedly apologizes for being a dipshit, like the golden retriever he really is at heart. The unpleasant little man is so shocked by this that he loses all his unpleasantness, has a really nice conversation with Jack, and immediately gets distracted by the sighting of a rare bird. Stephen Maturin is now successfully introduced, exactly as he means to go on as well. He is a physician, but his patient died and he's stuck without money to get home, literally sleeping rough because no one will answer his letters and he's out of cash. Jack meanwhile has a ship with no surgeon on it, and a vacancy, and they like one another, so it seems a simple solution. And so Stephen shall go to sea.

I suppose, really, that’s the genius of this series. The characters are round, complicated creatures, with obvious and consistent surface qualities but also equally consistent, apparently-contradictory, deeper qualities. Even minor characters sometimes possess this level of depth. Even the cartoony-awful little shit Harte (sometime captain, then admiral, the boss whose wife Jack has been fucking but in Jack's defense so is everybody else) has depths. Unpleasant depths, but he's got reasons and motivations and you do really believe in him; this pays off in book 8 in particular.

We meet Jack's first command, the Sophie, the loveliest tiniest little ship ever, staffed by a pack of utter weirdos. TOM PULLINGS makes his first appearance (he is my favorite supporting character throughout the series, so he will be capitalized henceforth) along with his delightful henchman (the other senior midshipman) Mowett who is James in his first and last appearances and most of the others but for some reason becomes William for a while in the middle, most notably in book 8, and has thus passed into the movie as William. Those are our master's mates, or senior midshipmen. In O'Brian's typical fashion we don't get really concrete physical descriptions of them in the normal sense, but instead get really evocative but nonspecific ones. TOM PULLINGS is "a big shy master's mate", elsewhere specified to be sort of gangly, long and thin, young, with a country accent and foremast-jack antecedents (i.e. started out as a regular sailor and was promoted, instead of the more normal approach where a family of means sends a son to sea as a midshipman), who absolutely blossoms under Jack Aubrey's leadership-by-enthusiastic-example, and we will see him through most of the rest of the series continuing on this trajectory with great competence and charming humbleness.

James Mowett gets a great introduction. He's had a few lines prior to this, mostly repetitively described as (and shown to be) cheerful and generally enthusiastic about things, running around and getting to be the one to fetch Stephen from the shore, and later we find out that he is a prolific writer of somewhat-terrible poetry, which we'll get plenty of excerpts of over the course of the series. But his first real description is:

“James Mowett was a tubular young man, getting on for twenty; he was dressed in old sailcoth trousers and a striped Guernsey shirt, a knitted garment that gave him very much the look of a caterpillar."

There are also the youngsters. Meet my beloved son William Babbington, a miniature midshipman of between eleven and thirteen who has every venereal disease and gets drunk a lot. He also cries and swears a whole lot, mostly while sober. I love him immoderately and we will see him in several more of the books. He never gets much taller or less obsessed with womanizing. Adolescence was hard in the Georgian era. (Yes, this is the Georgian era; the Victorian era does not begin for another thirty years.)

“'I suppose you grow used to living here,' [Stephen] observed, rising cautiously to his feet. 'At first it must seem a little confined.' 'Oh, sir,' said Mowett, 'think not meanly of this humble seat, Whence spring the guardians 'of the British fleet! Revere the sacred spot, however low, Which formed to martial acts an Hawke! An Howe !' 'Pay no attention to him, sir,' cried Babbington, anxiously. 'He means no disrespect, I do assure you, sir. It is only his disgusting way.”

Throughout this series, O'Brian so so so vividly shows and describes the many phases of awkwardness that young men go through especially in military settings. It's incredibly vivid; the breaking voices, the smells, the idiotic capers, the weeping, the complete lack of foresight, the incredible cruelty and also loyalty and bravery, the sheer adolescent enthusiasm coupled with shocking laziness.

We also get some insight into contemporary social mores through the introduction of Marshall, the sailing master (a warrant officer)-- 1) he's gay and 2) Jack Aubrey is extremely his type. Different people's different attitudes toward this unspool throughout various points of the book, but the critical point is that Jack Aubrey himself has absolutely zero gaydar and while he has heard the rumor about Marshall's tendencies, he doesn't care about that stuff, studiously avoids enforcing any of the regulations against it, and he absolutely never at any point relates this to himself, and never ever realizes why the man is so driven to excel at his job. Not even when an injury to his head and face gives Jack a horrible haircut and worse appearance, and Marshall is horrified and dispirited about it; Jack never twigs just what's amiss.

To be fair to Jack, many many many of the men aboard also respond to him in a similar, though crucially different, way. This is a common thing in this kind of cooped-up little setting; you have a guy who's in charge and gives you positive feedback and like, immediately you'll die for that guy, which is kind of how the military works because you may in fact have to literally die for that guy and it's easier if you're intrinsically motivated in some way. And Jack is very, very good at this in most cases, at taking the measure of the people under his command and getting them to respond to him.

(We can return to Mowett for an explicit example: “'You may light up the sloop, Mr Mowett, and show her our force: I don't want her to do anything foolish, such as firing a gun - perhaps hurting some of our people. Let me know when you have laid her aboard.' With this [Jack] retired, calling for a light and something hot to drink; and from his cabin he heard Mowett's voice, cracked and squeaking with the excitement of this prodigious command (he would happily have died for Jack), as under his orders the Sophie bore up and spread her wings.”)

Anyway so back to the plot summary: a very good side plot throughout is that the ship's first lieutenant, James Dillon, is an Irishman, and he and Stephen Maturin were both involved in the Irish rebellion in 1798. When they meet, James recognizes Stephen, and cautiously sounds him out about having met before, and Stephen very coolly replies we've never met but you must be thinking of my cousin who looks just like me but uglier, *so* ugly, he has the face of an informer, and everyone hates an informer and james is like Ah. You Are Absolutely Correct Sir We Have Never Met. This subplot develops into a delicious meditation on divided loyalties and the agony of staying true to oneself while doing what one must do. Highly recommended, A++. Begins to give us some insight into the various depths of Stephen, who doesn't understand tides or wind and hasn't the sense to come in out of the rain but has a deep and complicated history and identity and above all an incredible capacity for ruthlessness, absolutely none of which Jack understands.

Stephen and James in dialogue when they're finally in privacy enough to discuss it (Stephen is the first speaker, James the second):

“I speak only for myself, mind - it is my own truth alone - but man as part of a movement or a crowd is indifferent to me. He is inhuman. And I have nothing to do with nations, or nationalism. The only feelings I have -for what they are - are for men as individuals; my loyalties, such as they may be, are to private persons alone.'' "Patriotism will not do?'' "My dear creature, I have done with all debate. But you know as well as I, patriotism is a word; and one that generally comes to mean either my country, right or wrong, which is infamous, or my country is always right, which is imbecile." ''Yet you stopped Captain Aubrey playing Croppies Lie Down the other day.” "Oh, I am not consistent, of course; particularly in little things. Who is? He did not know the meaning of the tune, you know. He has never been in Ireland at all, and he was in the West Indies at the time of the rising. [...] But as for that song, I acted as I did partly because it is disagreeable to me to listen to it and partly because there were several Irish sailors within hearing, and not one of them an Orangeman; and it would be a pity to have them hate him when nothing in the manner of insult was within his mind's reach.”

uhhhhhhh but meanwhile: Jack Aubrey and the Sophies wreak havoc in the Mediterranean and make a lot of money and enemies, to the point that the local merchants band together to commission a fairly serious ship expressly to fuck them up. They meet this ship unsuspectingly, manage just in time to disguise themselves, and Stephen hails the ship and asks them in bad Spanish if they know anything about treating the plague, could they send a doctor over, could they spare any medicine. This scares them off and they go away. But now the Sophies know what this ship looks like and what armament it has. So the next time they meet it, they fight it, and so the tiny 14-gun Sophie with 82 men and boys aboard manages to capture the 32-gun Cacafuego with 319 men aboard, and it's very gallant and dashing and probably should not have worked, but it does.

And a little later, the Sophie accidentally meets a pair of very powerful French ships and gets taken in return despite doing some really heroic evasive manoevers.

The French are super nice to them, and we meet a French ship captain named Christy-Palliere who becomes a recurring character, who has English cousins and speaks great English and is both charming and nice, saying things like gather ye rose pods while ye may and being generally gallant. Until some even more powerful English ships heave into view, and the tables turn, but even then Christy-Palliere remains gallant and well-behaved.

We end the book with the court-martial. Any officer who loses his ship for any reason has to go before a court of sea captains to ascertain whether he did everything in his power to avoid losing his ship. So all the officers of the Sophie, including the midshipmen, including the surgeon, have to testify about this. (I feel like the other warrant officers should also have had to testify? but they weren't there and i'm not sure why. TOM PULLINGS is also not mentioned in the scene which he absolutely should be present for, so it's possible that they were just omitted for time.)

“They had each received an official notification the day before, and for some reason each had brought it with him, folded or rolled. After a while Babbington and Ricketts took to changing all the words they could into obscenities, secretly in a corner, while Mowett wrote and scratched out on the back of his, counting syllables on his fingers and silently mouthing. Lucock stared straight ahead of him into vacancy.”

Spoiler: the jury decides that there's not really anything more a 14-gun sloop could have done against two French ships of the line, so they exonerate Captain Aubrey for the loss of his sloop, and thus ends the book.

[vixensbrainrotts]

The Kokonoi couple (trademark) — Kokonoi Hajime

Content: headcanons

Tropes: Cool!Rich! Auntie and Uncle Kokonoi and Reader

Content warnings: Reader and Koko dont want their own kids, and commonly belittle them

Summary: The Kokonoi couple will do anything to avoid children, but that doesn’t stop the little beasts from staring in awe whenever they’re around. How unfortunate that their friends have children of their own…

Vixen‘s two cents: Hello! This is an idea I’ve had for a while, I’ve finally done it! I’m probably going to expand on this later but it had to get rid if the brainrott. Yes. Don’t be afraid to share, note, comment or reboot of you like my content, and remember that requests are open! So if you have any ideas you’d like to see, feel free to send me an ask! Now enjoy!

Cool, rich auntie and uncle Kokonoi and reader, who both can’t stand kids. The kids love them, literally ask their parents if they’re gonna be at events and gathering, but they really don’t like kids. ‘They’re messy’, ‘they’re loud’ and ‘they’re disgusting’ are what they would say when asked about having one of their own.

Cool Auntie y/n who frowns down at Ken and Emma’s kid with a wicked smile on her face, “oh you disgusting little thing, hm? Slimy little rat you, how peculiar you are.” She hisses down at the toddler (who’s just exited to see her), curling her fingers in disgust, long nails making her hands look like talons. The kid, once ecastic to see you makes a mad dash for it (as fast as the little legs will go), retrieving to the safety of his parents.

Cool Uncle Kokonoi who really doesn’t know what to do with the older Haitani’s twins when they won’t leave him alone. In a desperate attempt to get rid of them, he hands them each a few bills and advises them to “Go to your maker tell him that I’m done with you. Show him that you’re good for at least something.” As he shoos them away.

Cool Auntie and Uncle who always pull up in those fast, loud cars that all the litte boys admire, all squealing when they hear them pull up into the driveway. Running to catch a glimpse at the sleek vehicle as is it parks.

Cool Auntie y/n who always steps out of the cars with red-bottoms elevating her dangerously off the floor, but she wears them like they‘re slippers, molded to her feet like cushions.

Cool Uncle Kokonoi who always has those shiny, sleek, expensive Watches, the metals glinting and reflecting in the headlights of the car. The kids ask for the time wayyy more than they care for when he’s around.

Cool Auntie y/n who always has her hair done, and is always coming or going to appointments. She never has time to stay, and when she does she isn’t there for long because she has „Places to be! People to meet!“

Cool Uncle and Auntie who always come bearing the best of gifts. Big, exotic baskets of foreign sweets from their latest travel, the most expensive and high quality liquors the country has to offer, and most importantly, all the wishes the parents had denied their kids. Now dont misunderstand. They still aren’t very fond of children, but they sure do love to stir things up. So when Kakucho begs for them not to buy another lego set, for his feet had endured enough abuse, they know what the next Christmas will bring. Or when Takemichi and Hinata were struggling with a plushy obsession their daughter had, they conveniently placed an order for „Super kawaii Sanrio XXL cuddle plushies“.

Cool Auntie y/n who lets the kids taste a sip from her wineglass (which she is somehow always holding, and is somehow always full). The parents strongly discourage this behavior, but she heartily reminds them that it’s just a sip, nothing will happen.

Cool Uncle Kokonoi who is always carrying something sweet. The kids know this, and they know that if they ask nicely, their kindness has a great chance of being rewarded. It’s always those really good treats with the golden wrappers too!

Cool Auntie y/n who is an icon to the oldest daughters, because she commonly sorts out her closet, revamping her entire repetier, and handing down all the sorted goods. You know there’s some real treasures in the batches, ranging from shoes to purses to sweaters to evening gowns- all designer of course.

Also Cool Auntie y/n who gives the oldest Ryuguji daughter her first pair of heels. The moment she turned 15 (she couldn’t believe her age even when she was told three, four times) she took her out shoe-shopping. They emerged from the date with many-a-pairs and lots of excitement. Auntie y/n has learned that the older they get, the more bearable they are. She appreciates that.

The parents who dont really get or support the kids’s obsession with the Kokonoi-couple because it seems that they cause nothing but trouble and unhealthy spending habits.

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

What is a character's core?

I've used this term and variants of it in a few of my posts and I wanted to take a quick moment to define it because I'm not sure how commonly discussed this topic is, but it's an important one to keep in mind when evaluating and writing certain types of media.

Most genres of fiction make use of standard character roles/tropes. The plucky sidekick, the dastardly villain, the last girl, and so on. This isn't a bad thing. The existence of this stuff is a big part of how we define genres and how we evaluate writing quality. For example, if you're writing a romance, you're going to have romantic leads. Two (or more) individuals who will be together by the end of the story. If these roles don't exist, then you don't have a romance. And if their relationship feels toxic and unhealthy? You may not have a romance. Or, at least, not a classic romance. The worse the relationship is, the more you wander into the genre of "dark romance," which is all about enjoying deeply unhealthy fictional relationships.

This brings us to Miraculous and why I feel comfortable defending Adrien and Marinette as victims of bad writing.

Unless the writers are doing something truly insane, the love square is our end game couple. The ones destined for a happily ever after. That means that everything the writers do with these two and their relationship can be evaluated through the lens of, "are you honoring the characters' roles as the romantic leads?" And if the answer is, "No?" Then the writers are failing because "romantic lead" is a defining aspect of these characters. It isn't what they should be, it's what they are. Anything that goes against them being a good couple is bad writing.

This doesn't mean that they must be perfect. They're allowed to make mistakes and have flaws. Those are the sorts of things that drive a story! But the mistakes and flaws have to be treated as such by the narrative, they have to have some sort of resolution, and they have to be maintained in balance with the whole "love interest" thing. Too many mistakes and flaws and we've gone from "romance" to "tragedy," which is what I'd currently define Miraculous as.

This role evaluation thing isn't limited to romantic leads. Any character that has a clear role in the story can be evaluated via this criteria. For example, Alya is clearly meant to be a good best friend and reliable confidant for Marinette. You can tell this because of things like her learning Marinette's identity and her helping Marinette discover the secrets of the miraculous, big story moment that are treated as positives by the narrative. So anything Alya does that makes her feel like a bad friend is bad writing. It's why I get the Alya salt, but don't participate because I can't view her as the awful person the Lila stuff makes her out to be. That's not who Alya is narratively speaking.

Generally speaking, this core/role thing is my main way of evaluating characters in genre content like Miraculous. It's the driving force behind most of the character discussion on this blog and something I strongly encourage people to think about if they enjoy reading/writing genre content as it's a great guideline! Figure out the role a character is supposed to be in, generally honor that role, and you're golden! You have room for flaws and conflicts while still having something to keep you in check from straying too far off course.

[freeflowersofmuseums]

Yandere Bouillabaisse

Hello lovelies! dont know if anyone missed me but now that I'm better at writing and playing FF again, I figured I would try writing another shot. If there's something you really wanna see, just dm me a request! i get the struggle of being in a niche fandom and when there's nearly 400+ characters in FF, it can be really hard to find content for a character you like. With that being said, here are some headcanons and a scenario for the food soul Bouillabaisse!

CW: Collaring, drugging, kidnapping, stealing, jealousy and general yandere tendencies. GN!reader

Bouillabaisse or “bisse” as you called him, was fond of you when he was first summoned. For the small price of 150 soul embers from the store, you had gained an eternal companion. He thought you were simply adorable, his past master attendants were powerful mages or even other food souls who wanted him for their own gain, but you were the only person who gave and asked nothing in return. For that alone, he would provide you his service.

Everything you do enchants him. Your laugh, the way you touch his face, and even the food you provide for him warm his heart. He has never met anyone so kind and generous, he tries to return the favor as best he can. Giving you all sorts of knick-knacks he picks up off the road or the beach.

He is set on following you everywhere, while this isn’t too out of the normal for Food Souls, he takes his position as your personal assistant very seriously. When shopping for groceries, he’ll often quietly tuck fruit in his bag while others aren’t looking. The idea that you have to pay for anything in this world is ridiculous. Don't they know that you're the best master attendant in the world?

You pet him in a way he's so fond of. Gently pushing back the hair that obscures his features. You wash his face before bed, tucking him in with care and preparing delicious food in the morning. He watches as you hum various songs. Flitting about the kitchen like a golden ray of sunlight, preparing a meal that you hope he will enjoy just as much as you do. He'd never known this feeling before… this is love, isn’t it?

He despises the fact that you have to toil away at your job, giving your effort to someone who will never appreciate it and only ask for more. Oh, how he wishes he could simply whisk you away, waltzing on the beaches he knows so well while he covers you in sunken treasure. Pearls complement your complexion the best, he thinks.

It's only when a belligerent man catches your fancy does he comes across the realization that he would kill for you. Bouillabaisse hates every fiber of the man's being. He was almost disturbed that such visceral hatred was able to come from his core. Baisee looms over you while he watches the man offer to take you for a beverage. Taking in every disgusting quality of the man. The conversation only lasts a few minutes at most, but the pain is forever ingrained in Bouillabaisse's heart. If he is to properly protect you from the vile instincts of others, he has to isolate you.

He's so sorry. He doesn’t mean to hurt you he promises! But spiking your drink was the only way he could knock you unconscious and whisk you away. He knows that this is the best option for the two of you, but he hates hurting you! He hates knocking you out forcefully, but he found a happy medium in the form of keeping you drugged just enough to be barely conscious. He finds you adorable like this, constantly coo’ing in awe at your inebriated form. You need his help to do everything, a situation that won't last forever, but something he quite enjoys.

When the two of you reach his homeland, he finally feels comfortable enough to let you recover. He sets you down in a big shell basin that's been padded with all sorts of fabrics and pillows.  Smiling at the fact that you look like a pretty pearl when sitting in the shell. The cave seems to be comprised of a small above-water-level portion where you can breathe comfortably, but the only exit seems to be an extremely long tunnel submerged in water. In order to leave you would need Bouillabisse’s assistance.

He holds you as you kick and scream for release from the caves. He lets a few sparkling tears fall from his eyes. He is so frustrated that you can't see the truth! That the only way you’ll truly be happy is with him, right here where he can give you everything you need.

He feeds you just a drop or two of pufferfish poison.  Just enough to keep you from accessing your magic and prevent him from doing what's right. It makes your body run hot and you struggle with physical activity, but Bouillabaisse does everything he can to provide for you.

Now that he has you all to himself, he needs to find a way to mark you. He needs to own you like you own him. While it's likely not a permanent fix, he fashioned a collar for you. Made from the thicker bones of his tail and metal embellishments. He adores dressing you up and perhaps the collar was simply the start, but ever since he wrapped it around your neck you find that he has an odd fascination with picking out your clothing within the limited selection he carried.

Your relationship with Bouillabaisse has drastically changed but it's hard to get mad when you realize most of his actions come from his almost child-like level of ignorance. He loves you and he's not afraid to say it. Perhaps with enough time or patience, you could even convince him to let you leave. Provided you pay the transportation tax in the form of kisses. <3

Threat level: 4/10

Love level: 9/10

[my-pjo-stuff]

HEY DID U KNOW THAT THERES GONNA BE A NEW TOTAN ARMY OC IN THE TV SHOW!!?!!!

her name is Alison and the description is

"she went to Camp Half-Blood in her youth, but now lives in the mortal world"

Also the casting call is for actresses 18-22yrs old so how old do you think she's gonna be in cannon? im think in late teenager in her first appearance

Also what are your thoughts on the TV show? i like it so far, and i think that it is taking a much more jaded approach. It's leaning more heavily on the "gods are awful" bit and i think it's gonna be different but still awesome

To be quite honest, I have mixed feelings about the show.

Ireally like what they did with Luke and the changes they made to thale confrontation at the end! That shot of Luke’s face with these watery eyes was GOLDEN. It's my personal favorite scene, really shows he isn't a total villain and actually VERY sympathetic.

I just love the Luke scenes in general.

But I disliked the changes they made with the pearls- mostly because personally I just found it unnecessary yk ?

Another thing I disliked (probably the main thing I disliked) is Percy missing the deadline. Mostly because I just think it makes Poseidon and the gods look to good????

Like, to me a core thing of PJO is how shitty the gods actually are. INCLUDING Poseidon (If you really think about it). I don't think him giving up for Percy was really in-character for him.

I do enjoy the conflict it could bring with Luke though, where Percy only gets to really see the good side of his godly parent and thus can’t really understand Luke and his group. Thus we can have a Percy who has that slow realization over the course of the show.

I’m not sure what to think of how the show did Hermes. That whole talk about him being unable to get to Luke because of his fate or whatever….eh. Personally to me that's just a load of bullcrap and excuses- I really hope the show reveals and treats it like that too and doesn't try to make Hermes innocent.

Because frankly said? Luke was comically easy to prevent had Hermes just not sucked SO MUCH.

Like yeah Poseidon advised him not to go but A)Poseidon broke his how much advice with Percy, so it’s canon that Hermes didn’t HAVE to stay away, and B) how could Hermes genuinely apologizing and showing care for Luke and May have POSSIBLY made it worse?

So yeah, pretty mixed bag for me. I like some, I dislike some- I’ll definitely watch S2 though!

As for Alison, I honestly assume she’ll be around the same age as Luke. Possibly as a love interest for him?

Personally I don’t really care much what she’s gonna be exactly, I’m just excited for more Titan Army content!

I’m hoping we’ll get more focus on them in the show, especially when we throw Alison into the mix. The books sadly had the TA quite underdeveloped, which I hope the show can fix.

But honestly? I’m happy if they keep up the Luke scenes to the same quality they were so far. Real 10/10.

[writercole]

Too Early

Words: 379 Warnings: Fluff, implied smut Credits: @therebeccaw for the INCREDIBLE graphic for this beefy hunk. A/N: I'm sorry, the movie was awful and literally the only redeeming quality was Lew as Harrison. So I'm making my own happy with him and you're all just going to have to deal.

You hated the outdoors. You had no idea how Harrison had convinced you to go camping with him in the middle of October. But here you were, spreading sleeping bags on the floor of a tent while he gathered firewood and stones.

“Can’t believe I’m spending the night outside,” you muttered to yourself as you climbed out of the tent, finding Harrison setting stones in a wide circle and stacking logs inside. 

“Yeah, I never thought you’d agree to this,” he chuckled, “I guess you must really like me.”

“Right now I’m not so sure,” you grumbled, attempting to keep your smile at bay when he burst out laughing. 

“Aw, come on, sunshine, you know you do,” he teased as he wrapped his arms around your waist.

“Yeah, I guess I do.” You sighed as you looked up at him softly, sliding your arms around his neck and pulling him down for a kiss.

The sun set on the campsite, the fire quickly becoming the only light on the cloudy, moonless night.

“What do we do if it rains?” you asked coyly, feeling self-conscious about your lack of knowledge of the outdoors.

“There’s a cover for the tent that I’m going to put on before we go to bed,” he answered, wrapping his arm around you. “You don’t have to worry, sunshine, nothing’s going to happen.”

True to his word, the night was uneventful and you woke up to sunlight streaming through the plastic windows of the tent, illuminating Harrison in golden rays as if he were a god on earth. You were torn; your brain was yelling for coffee but you didn't want to get up, content to be wrapped in the thick arms of your boyfriend.

Harrison’s arm tightened around you and he nuzzled into your neck, humming contentedly as he breathed you in. “Good morning,” he mumbled against your skin, pressing soft kisses along the exposed flesh of your collarbone.

“It’s too early,” you groaned dramatically. 

“You sure about that?” he muttered, his hands sliding up your thigh, fingers slipping under the hem of your shorts.

You moaned softly when his fingers dipped under your panties. “I -” you started, cut off when he rolled you onto your back.

“Still too early?”

“Not for that, it isn’t.”

[sf447da]

Joining the Squad

The sun hung low in the sky, casting a warm, golden glow over the Astros gymnastics training facility. Hannah stood at the entrance, her heart pounding with excitement and a hint of nervousness. She had heard legends about the Astros, the most renowned gymnastics team in the country. Their gravity-defying moves and seemingly impossible feats left audiences in awe. Now, she was about to become a part of that legacy.

As Hannah stepped inside, she was immediately greeted by the sound of laughter and the sight of gymnasts stretching, twisting, and leaping with grace and precision. Her eyes widened as she took in the incredible talent that surrounded her.

Her coach, Coach Maria, approached with a warm smile. "Hannah, welcome to the Astros," she said. "We're thrilled to have you on the team."

Hannah couldn't help but feel a surge of pleasure at those words. It was an honor beyond her wildest dreams. She had worked tirelessly to get here, and now she was finally part of the best team in the country.

The other team members, a tight-knit group of girls who had trained together for years, surrounded her. Their enthusiasm was infectious as they introduced themselves and welcomed her with open arms. Hannah felt like she had found a second family.

The training began, and Hannah marveled at the Astros' incredible abilities. They effortlessly executed flips, spins, and contortions that seemed to defy the laws of physics. Hannah knew that if she wanted to keep up, she had to learn their secrets.

One day, after a grueling practice, her teammate Mia pulled her aside. "Hannah, I'll let you in on a little secret," she whispered. "It's all about flexibility. We've trained our bodies to be... super stretchy." she said as she leaned in close.

Hannah's eyes widened. She had heard rumors about the Astros' unique training methods, but she hadn't expected this. Mia reached over and touched Hannah's shoulder, and in an instant, Hannah felt a warm tingle course through her body. It was as if her muscles were relaxing into an almost rubber-like form. It was like Mia had transferred some kind of power to her that she couldn't yet understand.

Mia pulled her arms and torso, elongating them to stretch them past any normal limits. Hannah gasped in surprise but felt no pain, only a thrilling sensation of her body becoming more flexible by the second. It was as if she could stretch her limbs like elastic, and she marveled at the newfound abilities coursing through her. Each pull on her rubber-band body was increasingly more pleasurable, sending her almost into a frenzy. She stretched and twisted her body in ways she never thought possible, and each day, she became more and more like her fellow Astros. She could now effortlessly perform the seemingly impossible moves that had once left her in awe. She was super stretchy, just like her friends on the Astros, and it was incredible.

For more quality content like this and extensive stories accompanying these images, NSFW content, and so much more please check out and support my Patreon where new uploads are posted almost EVERY DAY! I guarantee you will like what you find at www.patreon.com/SF447Expansions! 😊

[valkyrie-night-103]

"I can fix him. and myself. but mostly him." Sounds quite intresting!

This is the second longest of my WIPs! Well, calling it a WIP is a tad misleading- it was a mostly revised piece that I had mixed feelings about and so I never got it up to posting quality! I took a look at it for the first time in months and decided to polish it up! If any of you, even just the one person, would like to see this on the archive, please let me know!

Kenny/Hangman with (past) Golden Lovers - set approximately 2 days after Hangman was ousted from the Elite for interfering with Matt and Nick’s qualifying match.

Content warnings for Alcoholism, suicidal ideation, general mental illness, mild violence/threatening behaviour toward a friend/loved one

Disclaimer: mobile formatting sucks

Word Count : 2.9k

Kenny doesn’t know what he was expecting, but he does know he wasn’t expecting the door to actually open.

Adam is pale and gaunt from lost sleep. The bags under his eyes are heavy and deep, his face as grave and unreadable as the moment he interfered with the qualifying match.

“You look awful.” Kenny blurts, like a total dumbass.

Adam, understandably, scoffs and slams it shut. Kenny jams his foot in the gap to stop it closing completely, making a strangled and frankly embarrassing noise as Adam tries to force it to close. He seems to realise that Kenny’s foot is the obstruction, because he hears a loud sigh from the other side of the door.

“I just want to talk.” Kenny tries, voice softening like Adam’s will to resist him. “I’m not here to shout at you.”

“What is there to talk about?” He sighed. “I fucked up.”

“Well, yeah.” Kenny mumbled. “You’ve been in there for days. I’m worried about you, man.”

Kenny wishes he could say that the Bucks would get over it, or some other comforting bullshit. They both know that they don’t forgive easily. Matt especially tends to hold grudges and be angry for far longer than is strictly necessary, Kenny knows that much firsthand.

Adam says nothing in favour of looking down at his feet. After a long moment, he steps aside, allowing Kenny to enter the room.

“You’ll always have me.” He promises. Even now, it feels a little empty. He knows Adam will see right through it. After all, if he broke it twice when promising to the person he loved- loves, more than anything, why would this be different?

Adam just looks at him with an expression he can’t quite identify. Skepticism, perhaps.

“I’m not going to leave you.” He repeats, that same hollow sentiment.

“You say that now.” Adam said, gently pushing the door with his free hand, letting the door swing closed on it’s own. “I give it a month until the wheels fall off, we’ll see how you feel then.”

Kenny wants to shake him and tell him to stop being so ridiculous. He reigns himself in, glancing away, eyes trailing toward the bed, which is a mess. His gaze falls upon the whiskey bottle on the nightstand. It’s partially empty, maybe about a quarter full, and Kenny knows it probably wasn’t completely full when Adam got hold of it, but still, that’s a lot of alcohol over about a few days.

He feels so stupid. How did he not see that something was wrong?

“Why did you do it?” Kenny asks, gently. Adam sends him a sharp look and he raises his hands in front of him in surrender. “I’m not criticising. I just want to understand.”

“If we stepped in that ring with them again, we’d be risking more than just our titles, we’d be putting everything on the line. They’d do anything for those titles, even ending our careers. The Elite wouldn’t survive that. I couldn’t put you through another civil war.”

Kenny know he’s not wrong. He’s been having very similar anxieties himself. He loves the Bucks, of course he does, but their driven nature has it’s downsides.

He notices the wording, the use of you rather than us. Was Adam trying to protect him? That doesn’t sound right. Maybe in a roundabout way he wanted to protect Matt and Nick, too. That sounds a little more likely, but only a little. Kenny knows better than anyone that emotions run high wherever the Bucks are involved.

“How long have you been feeling this way?” Kenny asks, changing the subject. “How long have you been-“ his eyes flicker over to the bottle and Adam looks away again.

“I’m not sure” he admits, mumbling slightly as he speaks. He’s embarrassed, but seems to think he owes it to Kenny to be honest or something. He looks away. “I don’t really remember when it started.“

Fuck. That’s scary. Not to mention deeply upsetting. He’s glad Adam is still looking down at his boots, because he knows that the expression on his face could be read as pity, and he knows that Adam would probably kick him out immediately had he seen.

“Everything after losing to Jericho is- not blurry, but- spotty. So I guess that’s when it started. Either that or I need to stop hitting my head and actually, y’know, be a good wrestler.”

He wheezes out a laugh like the self-deprecation is funny, shaking his head like he can’t even understand how Kenny can look so unamused. He knows what it’s like to be in that headspace, where you feel like a joke, an impostor.

God, he’s the world’s worst tag team partner. The world’s worst friend. How could he have missed this? Granted, the Bucks have too, so he’s not completely alone in his idiocy, but it’s not like they’ve ever made any claims to be perceptive of the feelings of those around them.

Without much thought, he closes the distance and hugs Adam tightly. It takes him less than a second to realise that was probably the worst thing he could have done. Adam stiffens, and Kenny is already backing off and apologising as Adam shoves his chest with both hands. Kenny lands right on his ass.

“You’re so full of shit.” Adam scoffed. He almost snarls the words out, but there’s no vitriol to prop them up. He’s smiling bitterly, shaking his head as he speaks.

“Maybe,” Kenny admits, trying desperately to be patient. He’s not known for his honesty, never claimed to be. “But I still think I know what you’re feeling right now.” He says, keeping his voice gentle as if he knows the words are more than a little risky. Inflammatory, almost.

Adam just looks down at him, his eyes more world-weary and sorrowful than hostile. He looks closer to Kenny’s age, almost 10 years older. Kenny knows, at least in some capacity, that the Elite is the reason.

“I know how it feels to mess up a title shot for someone you care about.” He says, and he can’t help the melancholy regret that seeps into his voice at that admission. “If anyone understands, it would be me, right?”

Adam looks away, posture softening, but only a little. He knows Kenny is at least somewhat right. There’s a silence, and they each take the time to breathe, thankful that it won’t escalate to a shouting match. That’s not what Kenny came here for, and Adam locked himself in here to avoid conflict. Adam sits on the edge of the bed, and Kenny rises to join him, sitting cross-legged.

“Was it ever the same again, after that?” Adam asks. He knows he’s on fragile ground. “I mean, he forgave you, right? You looked so happy.”

“No.” He says immediately, shaking his head. “No, It was never the same.”

Adam looks even more upset, and now he feels like a total dick, honesty or no. He’s a little confused, as far as he was aware Adam hadn’t been comfortable with the way things were, but he also gets that it’s hard when you realise that things will never be the same. It’s like they say, you can never really go home again. The places and the people have changed, the old mall torn down, the playground abandoned, the childhood friends moved away. In Kenny’s case, he supposes he was the one who moved away, who made that town feel empty and hollow.

The metaphor is running away from him, he knows it, and he tries to organise his thoughts. The words come with the same ease as always, if a little frantic.

“He was different after it all. I was too. Not always bad different, we were happy, in the end. In some ways we were better because of it. It took time to build things back up, and it wasn’t easy sometimes, but it was worth it. He was always worth it.” His voice falters, he can feel himself choking. There’s a lump in his throat he can’t swallow down, and it’s getting hard to breathe.

It’s the most he’s talked about him since he left with the rest of the Elite to start AEW. He can’t even remember what he was trying to say after realising he can’t even bring himself to speak Kota’s name when it had once felt so familiar on his tongue.

“What are you trying to tell me, Kenny?” He asks, and Kenny can feel the slight frustration in his voice. Kenny is frustrated too, about a lot of things.

“You won’t find what you’re looking for in gold and leather, Adam. Take it from someone who’s been there.”

“You think you know me.” Adam said. “You think you know me but you don’t.”

“Who are you now then? Edge?”

Adam couldn’t help it. He laughs, shaking his head at the ridiculousness of it all. Kenny gave a fleeting smile, but it fell away just as quickly as it appeared, and the divide between them seems to stretch ever-wider.

“What I’m trying to say- is there’s some things you can’t fix. If you can, it’ll take years of waiting and working at it and even then it’ll never be exactly the same. That means working on yourself too. I know that’s not what you want to hear, but torturing yourself over what could have been is not going to change anything. You’ll just make yourself feel awful.”

“I deserve as much,” he thinks, before realising he said it aloud.

“You don’t!” Kenny snaps, before taking a deep, calming breath. Tries to think of what he wished someone would have told him, tries not to lash out in anger. Matt’s done enough of that for everyone.

“You made a mistake, Adam. What you did was wrong, and you hurt someone. But you don’t deserve to suffer just because you made the wrong choice. What you deserve is to grow and learn from it. Everybody fucks up, I know I have. If we ponder every what-if, we never stop, so where do we draw the line?”

“Are you, uh, done with your little speech yet? Because it’s getting more generic by the second.” Adam says, like a snowball rolling down a hill, gathering anger like speed and mass. “I don’t need your pathetic shounen protagonist monologues. I don’t need your advice. I don’t need you.”

Kenny’s open arms make it so much easier to shove him harder and harder. But he doesn’t fall or waver, doesn’t stumble or fight back, even though Adam’s voice is harsh and his words are worse. He just balls his hands into tight fists, knowing Adam doesn’t mean it. He’s just trying to force a reaction, get him to go away.

It still hurts to actually hear the words that ring through his head, that nobody needs him. The thought that he’s not wanted either is never far behind.

He just wants to help. Why can’t Adam see that? Why can’t he see that Kenny cares, that he cares so much it’s beginning to frighten him? That he’s so afraid, expectant, expecting Adam to break it any second out of fear.

God, how did Kota do this for so long?

He wants to scream, to yell, to hit out, but he knows that Adam wants that too. He wants to fight, he wants Kenny to push him away. He wants Kenny to join the cacophony of voices telling him he’s just not good enough. He wants to isolate himself completely. He doesn’t want to get better, he’s completely given up.

Kenny knows what that feels like, and he’s terrified, because he knows just how close he could be to becoming a singles wrestler once more. He’s been at rock bottom, barely getting through each day. He’s not far from it now. He’s falling again and there’s no slowing his descent. It’s only a matter of time until he hits the ground and becomes a mockery of himself all over again.

It looked a lot different for him than it does for Adam. Drinking replaced with getting more and more reckless in the ring, in the hope that maybe it’ll make him feel worthy.

He knew even back then, that it’ll never be enough for him. Nothing ever will. Not titles, not accolades, not the love of the fans. Not even the love of his friends. Only one man’s love has ever been enough to sate that emptiness inside him, and he has never been worthy of that either.

Every time he leaps into that perfect Terminator dive, he finds himself hoping that he’d fuck up and it’d all be over in a blink. It’s vivid in his memory, the way the notion of such an abrupt end had soothed the ache in him for just a moment. He’s felt that way for a long time now. It was manageable for a while, but now it just feels so impossible.

He knows he shouldn’t be thinking like this, so he just looks down, tries to collect himself, sort out his breathing and get rid of that sick feeling in his chest. Adam is on his feet now, he’s after the high ground. Kenny won’t let it matter.

“Maybe you don’t, maybe you do. Either way, I’m not just going to let you dig your own grave over here, so-“

“You want to help yourself.” Adam spat. Kenny squeezes his eyes shut, tries to withstand it. Adam knows his buttons, he’s always worn them on his sleeve. Adam, like most people, usually tends to dance around them like his life depends on it. Now he’s just pressing shit to see which one gets the result he needs.

“You need me to keep those titles you love so much. You care about titles more than you’ve ever cared about anyone, more than you’ve ever loved anything!”

Kenny goes quiet, jaw tightening. He can feel that familiar anger seeping into his bones, can feel his hands coiling into fists. Adam knows his words have found their mark.

“You, Matt, Nick, I know what y’all do. You take and take until you can’t anymore, ‘til there’s nothing, fucking nothin’ left. Even Ibushi knew it, why else would he st-“

Kenny is on his feet before he even realises he wanted to move. Adam’s back is slamming into the wall before his brain confirms that any movement had occurred. Kenny is almost vibrating with nervous, frantic energy that seems to distill into anger. His eyes are charged, an electric blue that seems endless. His blood is surging, forearm braced across Adam’s collar from shoulder to shoulder, pressing but not quite hurting. But he could, if he wanted to.

Adam stops mid sentence, knowing that if he keeps talking he’s going to lose a tooth or several. Either way, he couldn’t talk if he tried. The impact drove the wind out of him.

Kenny’s always been unflappable. Light hearted, with a goofy sense of humour and a demeanour to match, the most any opponent could get out of him when outside the ring was an amused, unbothered promo that still picked apart the subject, or maybe a petty act of defiance. When it came to his friends, maybe they would have to endure a brief period of Kenny’s sulking, but Kenny is good at taking things on the chin. You have to be, to be in the spotlight for so long.

“I don’t want to hear his name out of your mouth ever again.” Kenny says, calm and methodical, with a tone so low and dangerous that it barely sounds like his voice. “Do you understand?”

Adam’s never seen him like this before, not even close. Adam can hardly look away, he feels frozen, stuck. Every slow breath that Kenny takes seems like a threat. A few moments pass, and Kenny still hasn’t broken the intense stare. There’s something volatile in the air, an explosion feels inevitable, it’s all coming to a head and-

Kenny relents, taking a step back without waiting for an answer, as if the rational part of his brain took the wheel. He’s blinking quickly, trying to hide it by angling his face away. After a few moments of dreadful silence, Adam abruptly realises that Kenny is fighting back tears.

Why is Kenny always so good to him? Even in blinding fury, he was patient. At least Matt and Nick are easy to hate, but Kenny is just so endlessly kind that he can never maintain the feeling. Guilt begins to creep in at the edges of his awareness, spreading like roots of a fast-growing plant. Kenny had willingly exposed his most vulnerable parts in an effort to help him. Kenny had shown him the heart that he guards so closely even when it’s on his sleeve. And Adam had hurt him. Adam made him cry.

He doesn't want to hurt Kenny. He doesn’t want to hurt anyone, but horrible things seem to follow him wherever he goes, like a cloud of acrid smoke. He can never hold his breath long enough to evade it, the more he runs from it the more dust he kicks up, the more this sickness spreads.

“I’m such a prick.” he says, the closest he’ll ever get to an apology. “I’ll get it together before Saturday.”

Kenny nods, quietly. It’s enough.

[arcstral]

The first friend she had made upon enrolling here stood before her, blue hair and eyes beautiful as the sky above them, a kind smile that was nostalgic yet unique to him alone. Despite their first meeting many moons ago being a little awkward at first, his welcoming nature made forging a bond much easier.

What she wished to convey today was gratefulness for that day but most importantly to celebrate that he exists in this lovely world. "Today's a special day, Marth. I brought two little gifts to celebrate."

She trailed closer to the archanean, a curve forming on her lips as their distance was cut short. In silence she placed a small box in one of his palms the contents inside were a pair of earrings with a simple design, golden with a small blue gem incrusted in them. Alear had noticed his ears were pierced, although the design wasn't close to what she had seen him wear the color of the gemstone reminded her of his eyes.

On the other box that she held as to not busy his hands rested a necklace, a golden chain with a charm at the center of it shaped like the falchion incrusted in the place were the red gem of the sword would be rested one mimicking her hair color. This gift was complicated to find someone capable of making it but she was glad it was able to be completed. "I am so happy to know you and the bond we have, you were the first to welcome me when i joined the academy, that day is special to me. It's truly an honor to stand by your side as friends, now and always."

"Your life is precious to those who love you so i wanted to tell you... happy birthday Marth!"

To enter into another year of life spent beside countless loved ones and allies is bliss enough for the Altean king. Which is to say, Marth does not often desire for material possessions, either on the day of his birth or any other. His interest is captivated by the gifts already planted into his hand; an Archanea unshackled by conflict, the daily pleasures of life attainable due to a world at peace, and - last but not least - the priceless bonds regarded as his treasures. Those maintained from old as well as those newly forged.

"A special day, you say? Hah. I am truly happy that you think so. To me, it is not that special when compared to every day I spend in enjoyment of life." Cerulean gaze sparkles warmly, pleased and amused in equal measures by the Elyosian woman who numbers among said bonds. Her honesty easily met with his own.

But his attention soon switches tacks, awe occupying a wonder-filled face as he is presented with two gifts. A fashionable pair of earrings alongside a resplendent necklace, one evocative of his emblematic blue color and another of Falchion itself. Their quality is easily discerned even by one who knows mandates and laws better than precious metals and gemstones. The heart he expresses is deeply touched and above all sincere: "Goodness, I am at a true loss for words! They are beautiful gifts and your consideration for me has gone to lengths I scarcely deserve."

Her regard alone would have been enough to make this a shining occasion. Not for the first time he finds the aura surrounding Alear to be curious. Though earnest, thoughtful, and undoubtedly kind, from their first meeting across the monastery grounds he could sense a certain way about her deeper than all those things - just as he'd observed of the male Alear. A phantom familiarity, perhaps; as one might judge of a tune or cuisine reminiscent of childhood.

And, naturally, what is familiar to Marth is comfortable.

He smiles, gratitude mingling with friendliness, an expression tenderly warm. "You have my thanks, Alear, for gifts and sentiments both. Let today not merely be a celebration of myself, but also that of our friendship. I would like to imagine us always at the sides of one another. . .as welcome allies."

[silvermoon-scrolls]

Sunrise

Fandom: Under the Vines Pairing: Griff x Gus Rating: G Content: Nothing but fluff Wordcount: 1500

For @deanobingo. Also available on AO3

~

“Rise and shine, sleepyhead.”

Griff reluctantly opened a bleary eye, squinting against the light. He soon managed a lazy smile as the golden vision of Gus came into focus, and for a short moment he basked in the happiness that was waking up beside his actual, official boyfriend. But a second later he groaned loudly when he spotted the time on the alarm clock behind the aforementioned golden vision. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” he complained pitifully.

“An early morning is a good morning. That’s what I always say.” Gus was all smiles, completely unperturbed by Griff’s lack of enthusiasm at the time of day. He was lying close, with his head propped up by his hand, and he was studying Griff’s drowsy appearance with delight.

Griff tried to look annoyed, but smiled in spite of himself. Even at this hour it was difficult to stay miserable when Gus was his shiny, happy self. He leaned in to give Gus a light kiss on the lips. “I can think of a way or two we can turn it into a really good morning,” he murmured seductively, hoping to get the other man on the right track.

Gus smiled readily enough, but when Griff untangled his arm from the covers with the intent to wrap it around the body beside him and pull it close he only caught air as Gus nimbly avoided the fumbling arm and slipped out of bed. Feeling a bit confused, Griff blinked a few times in order to refocus his still drowsy eyes. It wasn’t until then that he noticed that Gus was already fully clothed in his work garb.

“I’m sorry. It is a tempting offer,” Gus' fingers briefly ran along the bed cover before he bent and picked up his shoes, “but work’s calling.” 

Gus didn’t look all that sorry though. He looked genuinely happy. Griff absently wondered how he did that; how he looked both apologetic and happy at the same time. As Gus began to lace his boots, Griff saw his last chance. “I can't think that Daisy or Louis are awake at this god awful hour anyway. Why not take a cue from your bosses and sleep in a little, hmm?”

“But I like the peace and quiet of the morning.” Gus’ enthusiastic smile underlined the validity of the claim, and Griff was forced to accept his defeat. He slumped back into the soft mattress and burrowed his face in the pillow in an attempt to shut out the offending morning light and save what was left of what should be quality sleeping time.

Gus in turn turned his face towards the window, letting the warm light illuminate his serene features. “Besides,” he added fondly, “the sun deserves that someone’s up to watch all the beauty it creates.”

Griff smiled into his pillow. Gus always had such wonderful takes on things. Too bad about the spotless work ethic.

Having finished putting on his shoes, Gus stood up and tipped his head to the side, studying the graceful mess that was sprawling on the bed. “Have you even seen a proper sunrise?”

“Sure I have,” came the muffled reply. “Just not this side of sleep,” he admitted while trying to stifle a drawn out yawn.

With his head buried in the pillow, Griff could not see the big smile that lit up his boyfriend’s face. “That’s settled then!” Gus bent down and placed a light kiss on the brow of the half-sleeping man. “You enjoy your beauty sleep for today,” he said cheerfully. 

Before Griff had the presence of mind to ask for clarification, Gus was already out the door.

~~~

The early morning conversation had quickly slipped from Griff’s mind and he hadn’t given it a second thought for the rest of the day. In other words, he was unprepared when he the next day was awoken by a gentle kiss to the brow.

"Get dressed and come with me," Gus' familiar tenor whispered into his ear.

Griff blinked his eyes open and took a bewildered look around the still dark room. "It's the middle of the night?"

"Nah, it's just shy of morning. We are having a sunrise picnic." 

“In bed?” Griff asked hopefully, though he already knew the answer.

“On the hill slopes, of course.” Gus was practically beaming with excitement. “The best view Peak View has to offer.”

Though the undertaking of hiking up a dark mountain in the earliest hours of the day normally wouldn’t have been Griff’s idea of a good time, the excited smile on his boyfriend’s face made all the difference and he chuckled happily as he was dragged out of bed.

~~~

It wasn’t as dark as Griff had feared. While the pre-dawn light gave the landscape an eerie, mystical feel, it was more than enough to guide their way. They walked in mostly silence while Gus led them along the vine lanes and up the northern slopes – as if anything more than a whisper might wake up the sleeping valley and break the magic around them.

Though it was still late summer and the days were generally warm and sunny, the morning air felt chilling compared to the warm bed he had left behind. Suppressing a yawn and a slight shiver, Griff sneaked a smiling glance at his companion as he briefly wondered if Gus intended for them to hike all the way to the top of the chosen mountain. But whether it was that Gus took mercy on him – or that he never actually had intended for them to reach the ‘very best view Peak View has to offer’ – they hadn’t gone all that far up the slopes when Gus unslung his backpack and indicated that they had reached their destination.

They spread a blanket over a stony outcropping, turning it into a first class balcony seating with an unobscured view of the valley before them. The ‘picnic’ was sparse – some raisin biscuits and a thermos with warm tea, and a mug for each of them – but that did not matter one bit. The stunning view and the company was all that was sought. They sat close together with an extra blanket draped over their shoulders, watching the eastern horizon slowly grow brighter as it was painted in mesmerizing shades of pink and gold. 

Gus had been right, Griff thought; the sun did deserve that someone was awake to watch this. Leaning his body against Gus’ and entangling their fingers he felt his heart soar with joy and simple contentment. They might be secluded and alone up here, but it didn’t feel like they were hiding, not like he was used to. This felt like sharing – sharing an experience with millions of people before them.

When the sky had turned a vivid yellow, and the sun was just moments from peaking over the horizon, Gus used his free hand to gently turn Griff’s head in the opposite direction. “Up there.”

It took Griff a moment to understand what it was he was supposed to be seeing, but then a big smile graced his lips as the first rays of the sun hit the top of the peaks. The brilliant light made the peaks glow golden and vibrant. They sat in awed silence as the light slowly spread down along the slopes, illuminating every bush and rock face in its path. It felt like magic seeing the sun’s rays turn the shadowed valley into a green and brown, shimmering oasis.

“It’s beautiful.” It was a severe understatement, but it was difficult finding words adequate enough. “I’m glad you dragged me up here.” Griff bestowed a heartfelt smile on the man beside him, hoping it would convey the happiness that he felt – both in the moment and for how his life recently had been taken in a new direction.

Gus brought his hand up, letting his thumb caress a smiling dimple on Griff’s cheek. “Almost as beautiful as you are,” he said with fondness and with a sincerity that only Gus could manage.

Griff laughed in delight. “You smooth talker you.”

Gus returned his smile, but then closed his eyes and turned his face towards the sun. He took a short moment to relish in its light and warmth before he gave a contented sigh and turned his attention back to Griff. “I guess it’s still quite early – do you want to go back down and see if you can squeeze in another hour of sleep?” he offered graciously.

Instead of answering right away, Griff sneaked his hand up to the nape of Gus’ neck and let his fingers play with the golden curls there for a brief moment. Then, with a soft press of the hand he guided Gus closer, and leaning in he captured his lips in a loving kiss. As they broke apart, Griff gave him a mischievous grin – and without relinquishing his tender hold of Gus’ neck, he started to lean back on the blanket, gently pulling the other man down beside him. “Oh, I think we can make ourselves comfortable right here.”

The smiles that were exchanged nearly put the sun to shame.

[kyogre-blue]

Outcome of my primo grinding rampage on my alt: 

Mondstadt 100%, statue max level

Dragonspine 100%

Liyue is hovering at 80-90% in different areas, what can I say, the chests often give no primos at all, so I gave up on it pretty fast after doing the major puzzles. Statue is max level tho

Narukami tree at level 37

Seirai and Tsurumi at 100%

Rest of Inazuma hasn’t been lit up (except Narukami), but I haven’t really done the major world quests there, so I doubt it’s above 70% anywhere

Enkanomiya is open but barely started. 

Aranyaka is done, Varanara tree is level 50

The strip along the top of Sumeru is at 100%, between the mushroom forest, across Vanarana, all the way to the desert. 

Upper desert and Girdle at 100%

Lower desert is not lit up, but I stopped after finishing Golden Slumber without doing the follow up quests since I want to leave the storm above the pyramid. Everything else is done, so I think it should be at about 90% or so? 

Rest of Sumeru is also not lit up, but I expect it’s pretty high too. 

The Varanara tree was the big insane move. I’m glad Qiqi stopped me before I went any crazier. 

I guess I can take this opportunity to give my opinion of exploration on the alt: 

tbh I think my ranking of exploration enjoyment goes like this: Mondstadt (good, fun, a bit simple but Dragonspine is peak exploration) > Inazuma (some good, some bad) > Liyue (no opinion) > Sumeru (lots of problems)

I still like Mondstadt a lot, since it’s very chill, open and easy to traverse. The base areas are admittedly kind of simple, but there’s also Dragonspine. I explore it with just Anemo Traveler and Kaeya, which was a hilarious experience, but tbh it was very fun in a way? Once you know what to do and start utilizing swirl, crimson quartz, and the artificial seelie gadget, it becomes a pretty good balance of difficulty. Favorite area, honestly. 

Liyue I just do not have any strong opinions about, I never have. It’s similar to Mondstadt in general style, but I find their mountains infinitely annoying to climb and the color pallet kind of unappealing. Those aren’t major things though. Liyue is just there to me. 

Inazuma is pretty hit or miss. It’s honestly kind of disappointing that doing the world quests clears away what makes the islands unique (aside from Narukami) but you can’t just not do it because there’s various content that’s inaccessible without it (gift set furnishings on Tsurumi, the domain that needs torches on Yashiori, etc). Exploring stormy Yashiori was very fun, and Tsurumi had so many different cool effects that you just... can’t keep. On the other hand, it’s still pretty good otherwise. ...Aside from Watatsumi, I still standby my opinion that Watatsumi is awful. 

But then you get to Sumeru, and it’s..... sigh. 

Sumeru is definitely the largest, most complex, and most densely populated area. It also has the most rewards. However, I think that it also feels by far the worst to explore for a number of reasons. 

First, the endless caves. They’re bad. They were awful from the start, and they’re still bad even with the little marker on underground waypoint and with the online only cave map. There are no redeeming qualities here, it’s just bad. 

Second, the excessively long world quests. Aranyaka story is good, really, but the sheer number of side quests in it? All the exploration mechanics locked behind it? All the areas you just can’t progress without doing the quests? And it doesn’t get better. Golden Slumber dragging you all over the desert was not good either, the clearance stuff is just as bad. Dirge of Bilqis is shorter but so much worse because the writing is now also shit. Khvarena is just tedious. This was already pretty bad at times in Inazuma, but Sumeru just went out of control. 

I do want story that gives meaning to the areas we can explore! But that shouldn’t block off huge areas and entire mechanics! Find a balance! 

Third, too many puzzles that force you to have specific units. The previous regions had a bit of this, but Sumeru just took it to new, awful heights. Primarily, you don’t bring a bow? Just die. The spinning rings are completely out of reach for anything except a bow, and the dendrograna will only activate with a charged attack. There’s even a withering area where the sprouts are also in positions that need a bow specifically. The desert has that too, since the sand level puzzles do not accept anything except a bow charged shot. 

And that’s not even the end of it, since Sumeru went way crazy with the elemental requirements. Not even getting into the fungus farming nightmare... with has opposite elemental requirements than the mechanisms. 

Fourth, it’s too big. 

I know this sounds kind of weird, but there’s just too much, and it really gets repetitive. We got three deserts, who needed that? And the caves/ruins all look the same too. At least Inazuma’s islands are separated from each other, but the Sumeru stuff just blurs together. 

So yeah, that’s my hottake, haha. 

tbh, it’s unfortunate, but redoing Sumeru has just reminded me of why I wasn’t feeling particularly enthused about Fontaine. I just really don’t feel enthusiastic about the direction that Genshin’s map design has taken. I also hated maneuvering Sorush, so I can’t say I feel confident about the supposed underwater sections. 

It’s also worth noting that Genshin’s performance has been notably decreasing, especially in the last couple patches. The screen now regularly flashes white-blue as it seems to reload everything, the pop-in is starting to get ridiculous, and even the enemies glitch more now. My computer might not be amazing, but it’s not that bad, and this has been much worse recently. I think the tight release schedule might be catching up with the developers. At this rate, I kind of wonder if Fontaine will even work right... 

[gjordan15forccc]

Monument Mythos Season 3 Episodes 6-7 GOLDENGATEGIRL CTHONAUTC

[GOLDENGATEGIRL]

The video begins with a warning, a content warning regarding suicide. We see two portraits of a man and a woman with the Golden Gate Bridge in the background. The woman called the wrong number. Instead of her mom, we get Howard Melrose [as seen in WASHINGTONWANDERER, SUEZCANALCRAB, GIZAGUARDIAN, and LINCOLNLOOKER]. The two chat about the view. The woman seems to be "on top of the world." The two exchange names, Howard and Eunice [Eunice has been mentioned in the series, she's always the person Howard is trying to reach.]. Eunice asks Howard to call this number "whenever something exciting happens.", promising she'll "listen in Wonderland." Howard, now concerned, asks if she's okay. Eunice replies, "Thanks for talking to me, Howard! Call me later!" We hear the wind rushing and silence.

Eunice's full name is revealed, Eunice Dean. We cut to Jame's Dean, grief-stricken; he calls Montgomery Clift, saying that he "can't run." Dean believes that everyone is out to get him, that everyone wants to run him over, and that he's just "a dirty dog." He wants Clift to run, expressing that everyone loves him, "Everyone loves you, Monty!". Clift thinks it's silly, but Dean replies: "You're already a better President than I'll ever be."

We cut to a Presidential Announcement, Clift for President, and James Dean for VP. The video tells us that the YouTube channel's community tab will determine the outcome. Clift wins with 74% of the Vote in the following days, having decided by us, the viewers. --- [CTHONAUTC] A capsule fades onto the screen, with a diagram of a human in gear walking towards it, named "C.". Text appears, "MISSION OBJECTIVE: DETERMINE THE RATE OF AMERICAN WONDERLAND SYNDROME (AWS) in the Martian Serpent Metastructure." The capsule is loaded onto a space shuttle, the USS George Washington. "Releasing the Cthonaut Capsule now." The capsule floats toward a mangle of red tendrils, the Martian Serpent from MUSKMARS, more significant than ever. "Good luck in there." We're in a red version of Wonderland instead of its default black-and-white. The camera rotates, and a Tree starts glowing red, causing everything to turn black-and-white, the same Tree now glowing white. Cthonaut C. was transported back to Wonderland, and they send a message, "The spaghetti sent us home. We're in Wonderland. There's a child here too." We cut to drawings of Cthonaut C. and the child, simple drawings of C. feeding the child, playing with it, protecting it (There's a drawing of a Climber, disturbing), and loving it. However, a drawing shows us the child being struck by lightning from a Tree, "C. loses the child." Cthonaut C. finds paper and begins drawing their story. The screen cuts to text, "C. joins the child." We fade back to a video segment of WASHINGTONWANDERER, Melrose saying, "Our guy, Cthonaut C... He found a copy. It killed him." We hear Leonard repeat his words in ALCATRAZAPOCALYPSE, with diagrams of a woman and the child from Wonderland. "Remember me. For Virginia. For America." As he says this, the diagram's names appear: "Virginia Arnoldson" and "Everett Arnoldson." The drawing of the child distorts, and a blanket of text appears behind them. "American Wonderland Syndrome is characterized by an extreme distortion of physical attributes. The distortion is most commonly observed in individuals exposed to the Horner Serpent Metastructure, such as Cthonauts or Washington Absenteees. While Alice In Wonderland Syndrome (AIWS) is a brain-related condition, AWS is not. There is no cure for AWS, but supportive care can improve quality of life. Euthanasia is an option for those suffering from American Wonderland Syndrome. Please consult your doctor or---" We are shown a picture of Wonderland, with text saying, "Photo of Everett Arnoldson (with AWS)" ANAYLSIS No more President James Dean, huh? We finally know this Eunice character now. Everett returns. The Martian Serpent is gonna be a problem...

[duskroine]

When Ophelia returns to her quarters, she may find that her window is a little more open than she left it. The wind lightly tousles her curtains, but nothing has been taken.

Quite the contrary, in fact; on her nightstand there stands a beautiful three-armed golden candlestick. The design is rather simple, really, the arms curling up and embossed with minute detailing, but it still looks quite lovely. Included are six candles, whose scents range from ocean breeze to forest air, all lovely nature sorts of things.

One in particular looks a little strange, less professional quality than the rest, and next to it is a letter. There are a few spelling and grammatical errors in it, but the handwriting is actually quite neat, if not loopy, resembling cursive but not quite matching it. It wishes Ophelia a very happy holiday, and includes some drawings of forest creatures. It notes that the gifter tried to make a candle themself, but they're worried it didn't come out as well as they'd hoped.

The final gift is a small music box. Another note lays beside it, stating that the gifter composed a little theme that reminded them of Ophelia. The song is triumphant, but with sweet undertones, and lulls down into a calm rest before raising upwards again. It's complex for a simple music box, and there's almost certainly magic involved, but what kind is hard to decipher.

WITH A SPIRIT OF CHILDISH EXCITEMENT, ophelia rushes to her quarters, hurrying steps that split the time of destination in acute periods.  within moments, she’s stumbling before the entrance to her dorm, swift but clumsy hands opening the door in a wide gesture.  the door closes behind her, solid against her back as gray eyes take in her quarters in a study.  the window is still open, though she’s certain she had left the crack of air a narrow space rather than so high above the windowsill.  giddiness brightens her face and she moves towards the window, only stopping at the flicker of gold in the corner of her vision.

ophelia is by her bedside in the next instance.  a soft awe falls from her lips at the sight of the three-armed candlestick, ever so quiet despite herself.  carefully, she pulls off her gloves to handle the gift with physical touch, as close as she would possibly get to her winter envoy before seeking out to find them.  the candlestick is of simple design, little intricacy within the smelted gold figure—   it is still beautiful.  almost perfect if not for the missing candles; those of which are found on the nightstand when she allows her gaze to finally lower from the gift in hand.  six candles, each she raises before her face to lightly gather a whiff of.  they are lovely, crafted wonderfully, most likely from an individual that knows of such crafts.

one is different, ophelia comes to realize after inspecting each of them.  the one in her hand is the odd stick of them all, somewhat curled at the end, though it is obvious that the curve is a mistake in the design.  in dusk’s other hand, is the letter that was once beneath the strange candlestick.  any worries are immediately resigned in wonder at the contents of the letter.  and dearest to ophelia’s heart, she almost dares to sit on her mattress only to have balance for the urge of kicking her feet in joy!

“   either way,   ”   ophelia says, to the winter envoy, through herself in the quiet of her room,   “   this is special.  not strange.  personally crafted... i’m surprised!   ”   such thought taken into the gifts.  her heart swells at the sentiments!

then, just as she sets the letter and candlestick down, her knuckles brush against a smooth exterior and a bump follows.  music spills into the air, a theme of pride and celebration, the sweet reception of triumph.  ophelia’s eyes snap up to the box, small, but open, and the evident root of the music.  the song continues to play as dusk busies herself with the note beside it, gasping at the idea of the theme being hers.  inspired by her, for her.  she’s in shock, completely floored at the revelations of a music box being created with the thought of her behind it.  her hand raises above the box, able to pull back the essence of a spell—   or many—   but the exact identity of the incantation is foreign to her.

when the theme has ended, ophelia allows herself to bask in the silence.  only for a moment, grateful for the gifts in front of her, before she’s turned on her heel with a sway of her cape.  her quarters are abandoned, but not without the single, strange candlestick in hand.  her winter envoy would show themselves forward, one way or another!