#ah… the wonders of technology…

[ask-spiderpool]

You LEFT Twitter? But think of all the good things that website offers!! And then let me know what you got because I’m blanking out rn

It has the porn bots! I’ll miss those girls. Oh, and the loveless algorithm that shills your posts to alt-right-wingers who send you death threats. All the beautiful things.

[cynicalmusings]

really want to be in a band with boothill… ahh

[danveration]

Sleep well, amour Pt. 2

Parings: Alastor x reader

Summary: After falling asleep to his voice, you wake up and get confronted by Alastor. Later, you walk in on him sleeping.

Word count: 1523

Warnings: Mention of Alastor eating and k*lling a deer

part one

A/N: PART TWO IS HERE!!! I had SO many options wracking my brain on where to take this, but I picked this one! I hope you all enjoy it :’) let me know if you have any feedback, I’d love to hear it. Also, I’m currently working on all the requests I got :) as well as part 2 to that-no-good-first-man-on-earth

You wake up, blinking and looking around. Momentarily forgetting where you are.

Shit. You fell asleep in Alastor’s recording room. Thankfully, he isn’t here right now.

Before you could get up, you notice a purple blanket on you. It seems to be the one that was on his coat hanger. Did Alastor put this on you..? The thought has you smiling and your cheeks reddening.

Alastor’s voice sure does have an effect on you. You look outside to see what time it is, but remember that it’s Hell and the sky is always the same shade of red. You’re going to have to get used to that.

Getting up, you put the blanket back on the hanger and look around some more. It feels some-what intimate right now to be in his space when he’s not around. You wonder how long you’ve been asleep for.

You walk over to his table and notice a red “play” button on his radio equipment and are tempted to press it. It surely won’t cause any harm to hear what he was talking about when you were asleep. You press it and listen.

“Haha! For any sinner, I know it’s a tempting question. But I-“ The recording fast forwards. “Nevertheless, I find it quite amusing that this technology box thinks he is on any sort of level to me! Call me crazy but the sinners have been taaallkinggg, and they think he sounds quite obsessed.” He laughs, knowing Vox is probably listening.

You smile at his voice and find it funny how he is a bit of a drama queen when it comes to his radio broadcasts. You know deep down he doesn’t actually care about the whole situation with Vox, but it’s still funny how he entertains it.

Looking to your right, you see a mug that has “Oh Deer” written on it. There seems to be a bit of black coffee still left in the mug. The “deer” reference made you giggle. You’ve always wondered about his past and how exactly he is part deer anyhow. Oh well, It’ll reveal itself with time.

You’re looking at all the other buttons on his equipment, wondering what they do, when all of a sudden you hear light footsteps on the other side of the door. It’s most likely Alastor. Nobody would willingly go to his room without permission.

The door opens slowly and in steps Alastor. You notice how he opened the door quietly, to not make make much noise. As he still assumed you were asleep. You smiled at that.

He looks ahead and sees you, immediately smiling. “Ah! My dear. You’re awake!” He claps his hands together, his cane leaning on his side.

“Hey Al. Um.. about what happened I-“ You start.

“Ah, ah! No need to explain yourself, sweetheart! Don’t go giving yourself a headache.” He cuts in and laughs.

He looks down at you and says, “you just find comfort in my voice, don’t you?” He asks, with a smug smile.

Your eyes go wide and you stutter. Of course it wasn’t the most secretive thing. Still, you didn’t think he actually knew.

“U-um. Well..” You say.

He tilts his head to side as if saying, “Go on…”

There’s really no getting out of this. Plus, you don’t think Alastor would actually care. He’d probably just find it funny.

“Yeah, I do.” You admit. “I find comfort in your voice, of course I do! I just.. I don’t know.”

You aren’t sure what to say, it’s a tad embarrassing.

Alastor begins to laugh.

“I certainly could tell! I find it quite amusing if I do say so myself.” He says.

He definitely doesn’t mind it, he has a soft spot for you. But he’s also a bit confused on why you even do. He knows his radio voice is unique, but nobody ever commented on it bringing them comfort. They usually scream and run away when they hear him. You’ve been there long enough to see him kill and do so many things that people describe as “horrible, satanic, terrifying” but you still find comfort in him nevertheless? He thinks it’s absolutely adorable!

“Amusing?” You ask.

He nods and says, “Amusing, darling! I mean.. you know who I am, do you not?” He laughs and continues. “Though you still find comfort.. now that’s an interesting fact, don’t you think?”

You shy away, looking anywhere but him. You’re comfortable around him, of course, but you’re a tiny but embarrassed of this whole situation. You know he is definitely loving his though.

He places a finger on your jaw and guides your head back to look at him.

“Uh, uh, dear. There’s no need to feel shy! I never said it was a bad thing. I’m truly honoured!” He says, smiling down at you.

You and him have been getting to know each other for a while now and you’ve just been going deeply and deeply more interested in him. You almost laugh at yourself because you sometimes act as if you did when you alive, how you obsessed over fictional characters and “fan fiction.”

You look at him and say, “Well, that’s good then.” You chuckle.

“Mm, it is isn’t it?” He says.

He thinks you’re absolutely pathetic, but in a good way. He wouldn’t let anything hurt you, this new sensation is something he never wants to get rid of.

———————————————————————

Later that day, Charlie wanted you to pass a message on to Alastor about the hotel reservations. You knew he was in his room because he mentioned that if you needed him, he’d be in there having some dinner (aka, deer). Which he has in his half room half forest. You really wonder how on earth he even did that. The wonders of being a radio demon!

You’re at his door, lightly knocking. You wait a few seconds but you don’t hear anything from the other side.

“Al?” You question while knocking again.

“Hm.” You think.

You aren’t sure if you should go in or not. Sure, the thing Charlie told you about could wait but you also wanted to make sure he was okay. What if he.. choked or something? You’re sure the radio demon could handle that but you just want to make sure.

“Al, I’m coming in.. okay?” You say while knocking once more.

You slowly twist the knob and push the door open. Peaking in, you see him on the other side of the room, in a chair.

“Alastor, are you alr-“ You stop yourself when you notice his eyes are closed.

Closing the door behind you, you walk up to him.

He’s currently sitting in the chair, his arm on the table and his head resting on his hand. He looks so peaceful. His mouth isn’t smiling and his face just looks so.. relaxed. You’ve never saw him like this before. He mumbles occasionally and his ears twitch every so often as he sleeps. You aren’t sure how he finds this position comfortable, but you smile at it nonetheless.

You don’t want to disturb him so you leave, now relaxed that you know he’s okay.

Right before you grab the knob of the door, you hear, “Y/n?”

You whip your head back and you see him standing up, looking at you with his smile.

“Did you need something, dear?” He asks, as if he wasn’t just dead asleep a second ago.

Of course, it makes sense he is a light sleeper.

“O-oh, no. Charlie just wanted me to tell you that the renovations went well and that the guys who inspect the place will be here tomorrow!” You say. “Sorry if I disturbed you.”

“Ahh, alright! And nonsense! You couldn’t disturb me.” He says.

You look at him and smile.

“You know, you could join me if you want! I was just resting and then going to have some dinner.” He offers.

You perk up but then remember that Husk assigned you a task of picking up crates of whiskey for the bar.

“Shit, sorry. I can’t. I have to go get more alcohol for the bar.” You say with a frown.

“More? If I remember correctly, we just got new shipments in.. last week?” He says with a laugh. “Though I’m not surprised we ran out again. Husker is a busy man. Well, my dear. Some other time, then!”

You notice him looking back into the forest, eyeing a deer.

“Yeah, some other time.” You smile. “Have a good dinner, Alastor!”

He smiles back at you says, “Oh I will.” He chuckles, his radio eyes making an appearance as he looks back the deer.

“You have yourself a lovely day, sweetheart!” He says with a wave.

“You too!” Waving back, you then open the door and leave. Once you leave you hear shrieking on the other side of the door, definitely the deer that Al was eyeing.

You’re excited to have more encounters with him, and even take him up on the dinner offer! You remember him mentioning he wanted to introduce you to his friend, Rosie. You’re looking forward to it.

[michaela-o]

Random things i think Cybertronians would find adorable about humans ~♡

1. Humans getting spooked by random loud noises because humans are naturally very jumpy about loud noises

Imagine:

you're sitting over at Swerve's bar, just chatting, having your drink on the counter Swerve let you sit on, because your makeshift little table and chair are work in progress. Suddenly some bot decides to honk their horn near you which makes you yelp and jump (like cats when they get scared of cucumber) which makes you almost spilling the drink as you were about to take a sip.

The whole bar stops and laughs at you. You just look at the bot who did it with the most unimpressed look ever (ㅍ_ㅍ)

2. Watching you stretch yourself because Cybertroniams aren't as flexible as humans

3. Sleeping

this may sound a bit creepy but from what i saw Cybertroniams sleep very eerily still and almost never move when they're in recharge because they're very vulnerable when doing so. So i think when they have their first sleepover with a human and they happen to fall asleep sooner and they start to either sleep walk or sleep talk (which fun fact, i do a lot ( -᷄ ᎑ -᷅ ) ) the bots would look in utter confusion like- "ya all don't stay still?? How???" I think Cybertronians would also find cute how groggy humans are when they wake up and them needing proper time to load into the world around them. Oh god and wait till they hear about the weird ass dreams humans can have or humans trying to explain déjà vu to a bot💀

(makes me think of Sunder being frustrated bc he wouldn't be able to get into a human's brain😝)

4. Physical Clumsiness

The occasional clumsiness and lack of precision in human movements. I think a lot of bots would find this very amusing to occasionaly watch since Cybertronias are typically more coordinated and precise in their actions. Like imagine bot walking with a human who let's say just woke up earlier to a meeting and are slowly walking around occasionaly hitting themeselves or their arm with a corner of a wall because their sleepy processor didn't calculate the trajectory good enough. I think they would find this rather adorable (๑´>᎑<)

5. Emotional Reactions

Yes i think humans are way more sensitive than Cybertronians are. Human's exaggerated emotional reactions to minor events, like getting overly excited about a sports game or being deeply upset by a small mishap, could be seen as amusingly disproportionate. Like imagine you drop your favourite mug on the floor and it breaks as much as your heart in that moment. You walk around the ship super sad, like a kicked puppy, and the bots can almost feel the sadness dripping off of you so they ask: "Hey uh- you okay?"

And then you proceed to explain that you broke your favourite mug and that you'll never find a mug similar to your favourite one. The bot stares like ಠ_ಠ. Oh so that's the reason? Okay so apparently humans don't pack bond with only random things that are alive but even with things that aren't.

6. The uncanny valley effect

I think bots would find rather fascinating how human brain responds to this phenomenon. Like- the human brain can feel that something is off and can't be fooled. Imagine holoforms in Cybertronians. Like yeah they can look very appealing but only up to a certain point which when that point is reached it tickles that one part of the human brain which tells us "na-a-ah something ain't right"

At one point they wanted to wtiness this in real life so some bots (Percy, Brainstorm) made a set up of holoforms and real looking hologram of humans and waited for you to figure out which unsettles you the most. They were surprised that you were 100% accurate in this and that you were able to tell which one are holoforms and which aren't.

7. Expressions of Wonder

the awe and wonder in the human eyes when we are encountering something new or beautiful, such as a breathtaking landscape or a technological marvel. I think Cybertronians would find this pretty adorable, very innocent and reflective of our curious nature.

8. Human Fragility

I think the most popular one. The general physical fragility of humans, along with our tendency to bandage minor injuries or get flustered over small pains, might be viewed as cutely vulnerable for many Cybertronians.

Feel free to add anything you'd like !!😄🫶🏻🫶🏻

[ventique18]

Malleus: "I hope you tolerate their antics as merely children playing."

Leona: "I don't wanna be called a child by some lizard bastard who gets his nappy changed by nannies even during Halloween."

Malleus: "Kingscholar... You seem to be blind in both eyes. You and Skellington make a great match, won't you agree?"

😭😭😭 Finklestein was asking the Decoration Crew MalleusIdiaLeonaVil how they spend their Halloween in their world, and Malleus began explaining that they decorate their own dorms and compete. He claimed that Diasomnia had the spookiest theming last year and the others began complaining because they're just dark and gloomy LMAO.

Idia says they're the best because they had the latest technology, but Leona said the surveys had complaints that Ignihyde students talked waaaay too fast and no one understood what they said. If anything, Savanaclaw's was the best and was popular, but Vil said literally everyone was scared of Savanaclaw and no one dared to go because of the muscle men scaring everyone away. Vil said they were the most beautiful instead, but Idia pffffted and said when it comes to "not understanding anything" contest it's gotta be Pomefiore because of how haughty and "abstract "poetic" they are.

Finklestein then explains that they also get trophies for working hard during Halloween, so the boys need to stop fighting and start working.

Leona: "Well, I'm sure it won't be Mr. Gloomy Lizard over here at least."

Malleus: "Is that so? I believe I'd fair a lot better than some churlish cur."

Finklestein: "Ah. I wonder who'll win the much-coveted 'Scared Stiff Award' this year? Or the 'Clingy as a Leech Award'?"

Idia: "Scared Stiff Award..? What last century boomer even came up with that lame name?!"

Vil: "Clingy as a Leech? There's a category for leeches?"

Leona: "... Malleus, you can have the trophies." 😭😭😭😭

[apute11as]

Liability - Alexia putellas x reader (+platonic Lucy bronze)

Based on this little request of ficlets (more will follow) x

Warnings: no warnings just Alexia being overly protective

- part of the “everything happens for a reason” universe 🤗

It was around 9pm and Lucy had just returned from dinner and analysis with the team when her phone started to ring. Glancing down at it, she was met with a picture of Alexia bent down as you poured champagne into her mouth out of the Champions league trophy, a contact photo that captured a rare moment of pure joy from the Catalan midfielder. Lucy wondered what on earth would her captain be calling about this late at night, worried it was to yell at Lucy for not telling her that you were pregnant, the second she found out. Hesitantly, Lucy accepted the face time.

“Ay dios mío Lucia today would be great” scolded Alexia.

“Sorry Ale but may i ask why you’re calling me out of the blue?” She replied

“Y/n is pregnant.” She stated bluntly.

Ah yes Lucy could see this one coming but she was not about to be blamed for anything Alexia was ready to accuse her of.

“She is. Congratulations.” Lucy responded in an equally blunt tone.

“I’m very happy” Alexia added.

“You really sound it Ale” Lucy mocked

“Excuse me?” exclaimed the blonde, a hint of annoyance laced her voice.

“Why are you calling me Alexia, I’m very happy for you both too but this phone call seems rather pointless, like something that could’ve been done over text?” Said Lucy, hoping her captain would get to the point so she could be on her way to bed.

“Right yes, there was a point” Alexia stated, clearing her throat as though she was preparing a pre-match speech. “I love y/n very much but she’s ridiculously stubborn, I mean she hid a whole pregnancy for a while just so she could play in this tournament. Whilst I’m mad at her, I can’t say I wouldn’t do the same so with that being said, I’m asking you to watch over her for me.”

Lucy was taken aback, she was not sure what she’d expected from this conversation but this wasn’t quite it.

“You’re asking me to babysit your wife?” Laughed Lucy

“Sort of? I’m just saying I know I already told you to make sure she didn’t do anything stupid, like play through and injury and when I told you to keep an eye on her sickness and stuff but now she’s carrying mi princesa, even more of a reason why I won’t let her do something dumb.” She explained

“Alexia you and I both know how stubborn she is, if I start hovering she’ll kill me” Lucy argued

“Fine I tried to be nice, she always tells me if I use my captain voice it’s not fair but Lucia I swear to God if anything happens to her or my baby I will get you benched for the rest of the season and then kill you” Alexia responded with a stern, demanding voice.

“Okay okay but if she finds out and calls you to complain that’s your fault not mine” bargained Lucy.

“Si si, of course! Make sure she eats enough, lots of vitamins, make sure she doesn’t train too hard, make sure she gets lots of sleep and-“

“Crshhhhh lo siento Capi the phone is- crshhhh breaking up- crshhhhh”

And with that Lucy hung up, rustling her crisp packet worked every time with Alexia as she had been told by you, bless Alexia and her inability to understand technology.

Just as Lucy opened her hotel room door, Mary came running down the corridor with you on her back, Alessia and Ella hot on her heels. Dear God what had Lucy gotten herself into.

[angelsrcute]

Haloo :D im wondering if u r taking requests now but if u r can u write a fyodor with immortal female reader ? It would be wonderful if u can can but u can ignore this request if u want to

“ But can't you see my dear? I am your doppelganger ♡”

⌗ A LOVE IMMORTAL SUCH AS MINE, WILL COME TO ME, ETERNALLY. 𐙚˙⋆.˚

(´∀｀*)ε｀　) ౨�� N–sfw content !! ; Dom!Immortal!Vampire!Fyodor + Sub!Immortal!Vampire!F!Reader ➜ cws: Modern au, Jealous!Fyodor, Vampire themes, fwb → lovers, alcohol mentions, biting, unprotected sex + use of lube, tit play, overstimulation, creampie, oral sex (f receiving), slight Yandere!Fyodor(?), Soft!Fyodor.

꒰ † ੭ — this ended up being my longest fic ever, lol, 1.3k words!! I am taking reqs! + a lil inspiration from olgami, it's such a good webtoon. (人´∀`)♪ Translation: "Мышка" (myshka)

When humans age, they die and pass on to the afterlife, don't they? Death was something that never came to you, ah immortality, such a cool thing. It was more like a curse to you, humans coming and going, years passing by but still no one seemed to notice the same face walking among them for all these decades. Faces unrecognisable as you try to remember their names, their relation with you, not that it mattered anyway.

Relationships were a nuisance, blink and they're already gone, dead, as you stand in their funeral. It was a really funny thing, oh how you wished you could die instead of watching your loved ones die.

Fyodor Dostoevsky. Not a famous name for humans but for vampires, they say he's the oldest vampire to ever live. Have you ever met with him? You did, decades ago, in his bed, in his mansion, fyodor needed some relief and so did you.

He was the one who saved you from your death, why? Because he thought you were interesting. He'd take care of you and teach you how to hunt, how to kill people and make sure no one finds out. He seemed like a lonely man too, house deep in the woods, living all by himself.

The other vampires though, had this bloodlust, to kill him, to become the lord themselves. Everyone clawing at any chance they get, to paint their fingers red with his blood. You never understood their reasoning, what's so good living a life like this?

Dressed in the finest silk and jewelries, he liked seeing you in white clothing the most. He said it made you look like a saint, the saint that brought some change to his boring life. He definitely wasn't a fan of other vampires eyefucking you at meetings. Well, they'd end up going missing anyway.

Cleaning up after him was annoying, why did he have to be so busy? that also playing the piano as he drank wine. Blankly staring at the body in front of you as you clean the floor, muttering curses at him.

It didn't take long but you fell for him, yearning for his touches, but you could never confess, fearing it would ruin your relationship. Your body burning like fire as he kisses you, snapping his hips against you, dress ripped off and discarded on the floor.

“You liked that dress? I'll tell them to make one for you again, money isn't a problem for me.”

Cold slender fingers playing with your nipples as he decorates your neck with bite marks, drawing blood from them. Tongue darting out to lick the blood as he whispers about how sweet you taste to your ears. Your nails digging into his shoulders as your eyes roll back from pleasure, his hands holding your leg up at this point.

Everything was going smoothly until one day he disappeared, without a single word. All the other vampires went crazy over this fact. Some were happy thinking he finally died, some just disappointed that they couldn't be the one killing him.

You returned to Russia after a lot of years, travelling all over the world, everything was different to you, with the years, technology also grew, like for instance, this human was staring into a phone. Bumping into you and not saying a single apology but they had the audacity to curse you instead, calling you blind.

Well, guess you just found yourself dinner, how lucky. Hiding the body with no effort, muttering to yourself “The world would be a little better without people like this.”

You went down an alley, there was a nice bar here, you remembered. Entering it, you took a seat after ordering your favourite drink. From the corner of your eyes, you could see a stranger coming up to you, sitting beside you, “I've never seen you around here, darling, do you need some help? I know a really nice place around here–”

The man went on rambling about nonsense, poor attempts at flirting, and why is he even talking about himself, you don't remember asking. Quietly sipping on your drink as you ignored the stranger. The stranger, though, seemed offended, “Hey I'm talking to you, whore, if you don't want attention, dress up more!”

Now that part really got on your nerves, what were you supposed to wear, a long ass winter jacket? You could just pretend to play along and just kill this guy, not even interested in drinking his blood! But someone else's voice stopped you, a voice too fucking familiar.

It was none other than fyodor, you watched as he grabbed your wrist and pulled you by his side, eyes narrowing at the stranger with a smile, “It's really rude to flirt with someone's lover, don't you think? You'll walk away from here and remember nothing.” The guy on command, got up and left the bar, the people in the surrounding, definitely didn't care.

“You look like you've seen a ghost, Мышка.” He chuckled, as if he just met you yesterday and not decades ago.

“What the fuck? Where the hell were you for all these years!?” You shouted at him, burning a hole into his face with your glare, “Of course I'm surprised, am I not supposed to be when you appear like that? God!”

“Let's discuss it somewhere private, shall we? I know a hotel nearby.” You hated how composed he seemed to be, but still followed him, giving him a chance to explain himself.

“I was a bit hurt, dear, why didn't you tell the man to leave? or were you interested?” He asked while sitting down on the bed.

“Is that what we're talking about? Give me an explanation, fyodor, where the hell were you?”

“A bit busy, don't mind me, I had business that needed to be taken care of.”

“That's it? You could've at least told me a goodbye! or sent letters.”

“Ah, but that would give away my location, wouldn't it? I didn't want any disturbances, but enough about me, where were you? I couldn't find you in my mansion.”

“I was travelling, and I did not see a point in staying there if you weren't there but you really had me worried, you know?” You sighed, sitting beside him.

Well this was supposed to be meeting up with a past ‘friend’. So why did this turn into a fucking session? According to a certain someone, he wanted to make up for his mistakes!

Currently between your thighs, lapping up your folds like he hadn't eaten in years, savouring the taste like it was his favorite meal. He teased your clit with his tongue, gently flicking it, before sucking it into his mouth. Your moans and whines were music to his ear, he could feel you were close, his tongue speeding up to make you cum.

“F-fuck…gonna cum–” You stammered before cumming, lewd slurping sounds filling the room before getting up and kissing you, slipping his tongue in your mouth, making you taste yourself. A string of saliva joining your tongue after he breaks the kiss, he definitely likes seeing you like this— face flushed, hair disheveled, neck decorated by pretty hickeys by him.

You don't remember what round it was, all you can feel is the way he keeps fucking his cum back in your cunt. Sweat glistening on your body as you can't help but let out whimpers due to overstimulation, “T-Too much, fedya…slow down–”

“I'm sure you can cum for me again, my dear.”

He kisses your tear soaked face while rubbing soothing circles on your clit to calm you down. You pull him closer to kiss again, running your hands through his soft hair before he cums in you for the last time and pulls out.

Fyodor runs you a warm bath and then puts you on the bed, climbing in to cuddle with you, well, such a memorable get together isn't it?

Taglist: @blueberrisdove

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Yandere Dorm leaders(plus jamil) with a fem hunter of Artemis reader, basically reader had however many years ago prior to ending up in twisted wonderland had sworn herself to Artemis and became a hunter of Artemis, Reader is good at hunting, archery, fighting etc, she's also immortal and can only die in battle and oh yeah Reader had sworn to never make romantic relations with men as Artemis is goddess of virginity and had sworn off men herself and has all her hunters do the same since 'men are just distractions'.

If you're not currently taking requests you can just ignore this

Artemis Hunter Fem Reader | Yandere Twisted Wonderland

In Greek mythology the goddess Artemis stood for the pure maiden, the respectful hunt with archery, and childbirth. Back in your world, you are the closest thing to a child for the goddess. A nymph devotee blessed with her power and foresight. Where you are now is considered the belly of the beast surrounded by men who want nothing more than to have you. So the battle for your chastity and independence vs their determination and power begins:

Idia Shroud

“Ah!”

“This is not a time to be crying Idia, you’re the one who challenged me!”

“To a battle match IN GAME! I can’t compete with you on a physical level!”

“Too bad!”

It’s truly a match of brawns and brains according to Idia

Him with his constantly evolving technology to chase away contenders 

And you with your physical aptitude to avoid and cleverness falter any obstacle he throws in your way

He falls in love through his screen

Witnessing your sweetness through Ortho 

And your heroics through cameras he’s placed around

Is it so bad he wants to drag the hero to the underworld

He can’t decide if he wants to drag you to depravity or to fuel your image of a hero

So he settles to one day trap you

Maybe then he’ll decide

Jamil Viper

“I’ve been warned about snakes such as you!”

“And what was said?”

“That you’re not nearly as much fun to hunt!”

He often finds himself feeling the need to antagonize you

To engage in a ‘hunt’ with you

It’s not a physical one 

More so mental

It’s an unspoken game between you two 

And he’s not willing to back down

But neither are you

He absolutely adores playing basketball with you

Seeing the sweet create a shiny sheen over your body

It makes him excited 

You’ll weirdly feel sympathy for him

Something about being bound against his will 

Cruelly reminds of the poor animals poached 

He comes to realize this 

And he plans to use this to win

Rook Hunt

“You’re skill is far better than mine.”

“Don’t fret I’ve been blessed by Artemis. I may not have magic but I do have my bow.”

“That you do...”

“So…would you like a head start?”

Of course there's only two things can happen when two hunters meet

hunt the same prey

Or Hunt one another

Since Artemis prides herself on hunting within reason and not persecuting the weak

You decide to do the latter 

After all from the beginning he’s decided to hunt for the one thing Artemis absolutely asks that you protect

So it’s only natural that there will be sparks whenever you to decide to release your arrows

While in archery you might outclass him 

it’s easy to forget

He’s familiar with the terrain, with the presence of magic

He’s got just enough to properly consider a threat 

But he’s so determined and so sneaky its a wonder if you’ll realize it in time 

He hopes not 

But at the same time he knows the hunt is about to conclude when the doe knows to run

So on second thought he hopes you do

[simphornies]

Hi i was wondering if you could do a Vox X Angel Reader. If you don't mind of course. I understand if you say no.

A/N: Again. But this might be a two parter again. Or three. I don't know this one was super fun to write though!

Word count: 4.3k (4,232) Contains: SLOW burn, Alastor is your friend, Charlie being Charlie

part 2, part 3, part 4

Summary: Vox approached you with a deal too good to be true. He hid his ill-intent only to find him playing too far into the lie to the point where he began to doubt his true feelings. What was he really doing this for?

Deal breaker [Vox x Angel! Reader] Part 1

Your curious and overly empathetic nature mixed with your passion for justice always had the seraphims and other archangels keep their eyes on you. They tried to prevent you from rebelling by limiting your access to information.

You grew to be a well-known and respected angel in heaven so when word came out that you decided to stand by Charlie's hotel idea during the trial, more than half of heaven stood by it too. You were the furious version of Emily during then. You were enraged and demanded the information to be leaked to which Sera rejected immediately.

You threatened to spread the truth yourself and with that you were ordered to leave Heaven and join Charlie, never to set foot back in Heaven with such threats. You accepted being a fallen on the condition that they give the hotel a chance if you were to win against the extermination. Emily was more than happy to agree to be the joyful messenger to report good news and fix the stereotypes that they held on the souls of hell.

Sera went against this idea but Emily threatened to join you in Hell otherwise. You watched as Sera, a high seraphim, was backed into a corner by a fellow seraphim. The other angels argued amongst each other but were instantly persuaded by your opinion due to your reputation. You swore that you will win against the true fools of the battle, Adam and Lute.

You gave aid on Charlie's side against the early extermination by working to heal those who were gravely injured and protecting the weak. Ultimately winning in the end, a surge of arguments within the heavenly community led to an uprising in defense of the hotel. This very reason ended up with you falling like Lucifer. You weren't a seraphim but you sure as hell had the social status of one. With Heaven unable to condemn every angel that joined the uprising against the extermination so they settled with you. The fight, however wasn't won without casualties.

During the broadcasted fight, your power caught the attention of the overlord Vox. He was in shock that someone in heaven actually gave a shit about the people in hell. Soon after the war you received word that he wanted to have a meeting with you to discuss collaboration with VoxTek and Hazbin Hotel. Against Alastor's obviously biased protests, you agreed to meet with the infamous overlord alone.

"Vox, a pleasure to be meeting with you. I'm sure you've heard but my name is Y/N. Fallen angel, representative and advisor of Hazbin Hotel." You formally greet him, holding out your hand to which he shook.

"Y/N, I've known you since the last extermination, quite a sight. Please, sit." He pulls out a chair for you. How gentlemanly. "I've arranged this meeting to discuss possible collaborations with VoxTek despite our standing with your host, Alastor." His voice distorted when he said his name. It was a mystery to you as to why they despise each other so much, but it wasn't your place nor the time to know of the reason.

"Ah, yes. He protested against my decision to meet with you today, however and I am quite curious as to what you have to offer considering Hazbin Hotel needs not for what your company usually provides." You sit up, placing your interlocked hands on the table. "You are well aware that cameras and technology of that sort don't quite mix with our dear Alastor. So please, what do you have that we need?"

"Influence. I believe I can spread the word and convince sinners to attempt redemption better than Alastor's radio broadcasts." Vox noticed your eyes glisten with interest. "I know the hotel's against forcing so I won't use my hypnotism on the advertisement."

"Alright," You nod, "That's a decent offer. What do you request in return if I were to agree to this?"

A grin spreads across his face, "I want you to protect me and my company against future threats. That and I want you in particular."

You cock an eyebrow at his half ridiculous request, "Me?" You almost scoffed out loud, "What do you want me for?"

"Why, I would love to get to know you. You're more of a mystery than that radio demon and well, as an overlord, I have to know exactly who you are."

"And how do you propose this idea to work? Surely I am not worthy of such...curiosity. I have proven myself to not be a threat to the people of hell."

"Well, let me put this in simpler terms." He leans back in his chair, "I am interested in courting you."

You blinked in disbelief. An overlord? Courting a fallen angel? "Now wouldn't that be a conflict of interest? And if your courting fails, how are we to know that the Vees won't become a bigger threat to the hotel?"

"You're a fallen angel, you hold more power than the overlords and stand side by side with the king of hell. Not to mention that you're best friends with Princess Morningstar." He watched the subtle changes in your facial reaction, slightly amused but also slightly worried that you'd actually say no. "You are by far much stronger than Adam, who by the way shot laser beams from his fingers. We pose no threat to you."

"Ah but you are aware that I can be hurt with angelic weapons. You work with Carmilla Carmine, an angelic weapons dealer. So I ask again, how do I guarantee my safety alongside the hotel?"

"How about we make a deal then?" He proposed.

A deal? An angel, fallen or not, making a deal with a demon is not something you typically see, well, ever. You pondered and thought about the offer, humming softly.

"3 days." You finally spoke, "I'll need 3 days to consider this offer on the condition that you stay in the hotel. If you're truly willing to collaborate with us, you need to stay, see and understand the hotel in its full glory. In return for your approval of this condition, I will give provide you protection from Alastor and, may I be as bold to say it, force his cooperation."

Vox was a little skeptical but considering you are stronger than Alastor, he agreed. "Alright then, 3 days. When will this start?"

"I will let you know as soon as I speak with the staff of the hotel." You get up from your seat. "Is that alright with you?"

Vox gets up and shakes your hand, "Great. I'll be waiting."

You gave him a smile before teleporting yourself back to the hotel. As soon as you left Vox basically starts breathing hard as if he was holding his breath the entire meeting. The presence of an angel freshly fallen from Heaven is a heavy one. He composed himself before calling Velvette and Valentino to the room.

Back at the hotel you call for a staff meeting with Vaggie, Alastor, Charlie, Lucifer and Husk. You tell them about the events of the meeting. They, with the exclusion of Charlie, were all understandably skeptical and untrusting of Vox's word. Especially Alastor considering he hated this demon's guts.

The room distorts slightly due to his anger. "As the host of the hotel, I disagree with this deal. I say no. I do not collaborate with technology in the slightest and I will absolutely not collaborate with Vox." He hissed out. "That is a terribly foolish idea. I cannot comprehend why you would consider such a proposal."

"Yeah that guy literally tried to spy on us with Pentious as soon as he learned that Alastor was here." Vaggie crossed her arms, "As rare as this is, I agree with Alastor. I trust him more than I trust Vox."

"You guys, I think the proposal is a great idea!" Charlie defended, "He can get us more reach and other people aren't as..." She glanced at Alastor who tilted his head to the side in response, "...afraid of him. And! This hotel's all about redemption and giving chances, we can't turn our backs on something as big as this."

"My dear, surely you aren't considering this preposterous idea?" Alastor questioned argumentatively.

"Yes. I am. I stand with Y/N on this one. I think we should give him a chance."

"And what if he tries to fuck shit up here at the hotel? Then what?" Husk asks, "I'm not cleaning up after any more walls that get blown up." He grumbled, taking a swig out of his bottle.

"I hear your troubles and concerns regarding the idea but did you all truly forget," You glanced at Lucifer. He understood your cue and in unison you both reveal your six wings and the eyes that covered you both, "This hotel is under protection of not only the infamous radio demon but two high-ranking fallen angels."

"I agree with Y/N. If that little overlord tries to pull any stunts, I won't hesitate to fuck him." Lucifer proudly, and loudly, states.

Everyone, in response, stared at him.

"It's 'fuck him up' dad." Charlie whispers, "I told you this last time."

"Wait what did I say?"

You laugh at the mistake in phrase, "See? There is nothing to worry about."

"Okay but why does he want to do this? What exactly does he want in return, Y/N? I feel like you left that out." Vaggie asks as you and Lucifer put your wings away, reverting back to your usual forms.

"Well, he said he wanted protection and..." You trail off. All eyes are on you as they waited for what comes next. You take a deep breath in, "And he wants a chance at courting me." You calmly state, a nervous blush covering your poker face.

Husk spits out his drink and everyone, in unison, screams. "WHAT?"

All at once, protests, thoughts and opinions were thrown at you.

"All this nonsense for a chance at courtship? Foolish!" Alastor scoffed.

"The big bad overlord wants to fucking hit on you and you considered it?" Husk screams before reaching for another bottle to chug. "I'm too fucking sober right now."

"Ooooooh~ Y/N caught the attention of an overlord. You know what he wants-" Lucifer elbowed you before humping the air with a teasing look on his face, "Bow-chicka-wow-wow."

"HE WANTS TO DATE YOU?" Vaggie yelled.

"OH MY GOSH. HE WANTS TO DATE YOU? THAT'S SO CUTE." Charlie squealed in excitement, of course.

You sigh and rubbed your temples at the onslaught of statements. You patiently waited for them to all stop talking at the same time before continuing. You took this time to think this one through. You hardly knew the guy and he was willing to agree to spend 3 days in the hotel even with Alastor here. If that wasn't a commitment, then you don't know what is.

The arguing dies down and you get up, "I didn't state that I will enter a relationship with Vox. I simply said I'll consider his conditions of collaboration. Protection against future threats is something I can handle. The second part came out of the blue." You sigh, "Alastor. I am more than well aware of your indifferences and feelings on him but if you truly want this hotel to get more reach, you need to be able to put your feelings to the side and be more open-minded. Besides, if he were to fail here and in courting me, wouldn't you want to be there to see it?"

Alastor hummed, "Mmmm...You make a good point there. Fine. I'll agree to it. I won't harm him for a chance at seeing him fail." He grinned menacingly, his words covered with his radio static effect. "Though if he doesn't fail, what shall I get?"

You deadpanned and sighed, once again, "I'll bring you foolish prey that talk shit about you so you can let your anger out on them instead of him." You offered to which he decided to reluctantly settle for.

After you all came to the agreement, you send a paper notice to Vox telling him that tomorrow will be the start of his 3 long days at the hotel. Vox received the note you sent him while he was with Velvette and Valentino making him grin.

Velvette rolled her eyes, "All that to hit on the angel bitch? That's a weird-"

"-And pathetic-" Valentino added.

"-fucking move for power, Vox. Did you hit your fuckin' head or something? Do you need an update?"

"Pathetic? We get angelic protection equal to the protection of Lucifer. That would give us such an easy path to conquer this whole fucking ring!" He exclaims, laughing menacingly, "If an angel fell for that dumbass reason, there's no fucking way she's smart enough to see through the fact that she's the one that's going to be getting played."

.

The next day rolled around and the hotel lobby was decorated with basically every decoration everyone could find. There was even a sign that says "It's a boy!" on the wall? The same one they used for Lucifer's arrival. You shook your head, laughing a bit.

"Alright, Alastor. Remember, be nice." You remind him as he rolled his eyes.

"Yes yes, your highness." He rolled his eyes, sassing you. Though this idea was a crazy one, you and Alastor were friends. You had helped him gain a bit more of his power that was constricted from his mysterious chains. When you saw him bleeding in his old radio tower, you shared your powers through the means of a deal. A deal that he would trust your decisions and become your friend.

"Don't you sass me, Alastor." You joked, "Very unbecoming of you."

After a couple minutes of waiting, a knock sounds at the door. You open it to reveal Vox standing with pride. Confetti blasts behind you as you welcome him into the hotel.

"Welcome, Vox. To the famous Hazbin Hotel. I truly hope you enjoy your stay with us and we thank you for taking this opportunity."

"I don't thank him for shit." Alastor mumbled.

You side-eyed the radio demon before holding out your hand for Vox to take so you can show him around. He takes it and gives the back of your hand a kiss, earning an eye-roll and a couple of gasps.

"First things first, I shall introduce you to the staff." You walk him over to your friends.

"Hi! I'm Charlie. You probably already know me but welcome to the hotel!" She squealed, shaking his free hand, "You're going to love it here! You get to play our trust games today! Oh! And this is my dad, the king of hell, Lucifer!" Charlie grabbed her father to which he waved and just said, "Pleasure."

Everyone made their rounds introducing themselves to Vox and it was time for you to properly introduce the two rivals to each other. Vox came face to face with Alastor. Alastor squinted, his aura darkening and in response Vox starts to angrily glitch.

"Now now. A reminder that you two are to get along for the next 3 days. Or, at the least, not kill each other." You calmly state, "Or, I will do it myself." You threatened, your angelic eyes sprouting on your hair as you smiled at them sweetly, your hands gripping their shoulders a little tight. They pettily turn their heads away from each other.

"Now that introductions are done, I shall escort you to your room. Right this way."

You lead him into a room that you requested be ready for him. All rooms around it are covered with jammers strong enough to prevent him from doing anything sketchy or interfering with technology from his room, as per Alastor's request, but weak enough to allow him to properly function. You briefed him on this expecting him to protest but he just agreed without a fight.

His room was designed entirely on what you saw in his office, color scheme and all. Neon lights that he can control and change lined the walls and the corners. You decide to temporarily move into the space next to his so if anything were to go wrong, you'd be the first one there.

After settling in, Vox was subjected to Charlie's games and events that she had planned for the day. She purposefully pushed the two of you into pairs when given the chance, anything to get you two to become close. Alastor surprisingly behaved himself, too focused on his more important rivalry with Lucifer to truly care about Vox's presence. Vox, of course, took great offense to this and tried to pick fights with him which led him to getting punished.

By Charlie.

In her own Charlie way.

Apologies.

Anyways you end your day at the bar, speaking with Husk about his day. You listen to him grumble away at his irritations, giving advice when needed or asked but mostly staring at your cup of wine. Growing up in Heaven, you were only allowed to drink wine with levels of alcoholic concentration so low it's practically still juice. This made you a lightweight in the beginning but with enough time spent around Angel Dust and Cherri, your tolerance went up.

You were working on finishing an entire bottle of wine when Husk stopped his stories, grumpily walking away to pretend to do something. Vox had sat next to you.

"Hello, are you here for a drink?" You asked, offering some of your drink to him.

"Sorry, I'm more of a whiskey and rum type of demon." He declined, lifting his glass full of what looked to be rum. "Today I chose rum."

"How's your first day? Tiring, is it not?" You ask before pouring yourself another glass, "I'll be heading to bed as soon as I finish my bottle."

He laughed a bit, "You're finishing that whole thing by yourself? Never expected the angel to be an alcoholic. You getting used to Hell or something?"

You roll your eyes, "I like to indulge every now and then, Heaven is such an uptight place for angels like me. Indulging in alcohol was never a chance. The 'wine' there is quite literally juice. Ask Husk, he was disgusted." You pointed at the winged cat demon who nodded in response.

"Nastiest shit I ever tasted."

While you, Husk and Vox conversed you failed to notice Charlie sneaking up on you the moment you finished the last drops in your glass. She jumped as soon as you finished the bottle and smiled.

"Y/N! Vox! Since you two are more acquainted and you live next to each other, why don't you two walk together for the night?" She winked at you, egging on the idea of you and Vox dating.

"That's not necessa—" You begin before getting interrupted by an overly excited Vox.

"Gladly!" He grinned as he put his glass down. He extended his arm out to you for you to hold onto. You walk past him, declining his offer without a word. Your rejection at his attempt of affection sparked a flame within him. It definitely hit his ego.

"Catch up now, or I'll end up walking alone." You say, almost in a teasing manner.

Charlie gently pushed Vox after you to which he ran to catch up. While you two walked down the lobby and up the stairs, it was awkwardly silent. Vox's damaged ego made him break the silence first.

"So...What does an angel do...at night?" Vox internally slapped himself at the horrid attempt at conversation. You raised an eyebrow at him, befuddled at the odd question.

"We...sleep? Go into slumber?" You giggle slightly, "That was an amazing attempt at conversation."

Your giggle echoed in his head, replaying for a while until you spoke again. Vox was confused at his own reaction and decided to ignore it. He held his hands behind his back as he walked next to you down the hallway towards your rooms.

"Well I don't typically talk to angels. You're one of the three only angels here. Unless you count the dead one." His humor wasn't something he expected you to laugh at but you did. He was surprised. "Anyways. I'm allowed to try and court you while I'm here right?"

"Hmm. I suppose." You nodded, "Though, I have my doubts in your abilities to successfully do so. But you have my best wishes for your endeavors."

Your best wishes? That phrase almost made him scoff in response, holding back only for the sake of his facade. Though he did feel challenged.

"Is that a challenge, Y/N?" He asked, a mischievous grin on his face as he looked at you.

You finally reach your door which was right before Vox's, "Take it as you will. I will not condemn you from attempting." You smile at him, "Have a good night, Vox. Don't fall asleep too late."

"Whatever you say." He definitely took it as a challenge. "Good night, angel." He said as he opened your door for you. You thanked him before entering your room, shutting, but not locking, your door behind you. It didn't take long for you to get ready and fall asleep after.

Meanwhile in Vox's room, he took a look around. Double checking every nook and cranny for a sign of distrust like listening devices and cameras but to his surprise there were none. He was about to let his guard down until Alastor slid under his locked door using his shadow.

"Hello, old pal." The sound of his radio voice made the fellow overlord jump. He turned and made eye contact with the radio demon himself, menacingly smiling at him.

"What do you want, fuck face?" He hissed, his own voice covered with his stereo effect almost as if trying to one-up Alastor.

"I don't know what your intentions are here but I am almost completely sure you are up to no good. So we shall heed you a warning."

"Why did you say 'we' instead off 'I' or 'me' or something."

Alastor's grin widens as he unlocked the door for Lucifer to get through. Vox looked down at the surprisingly short king of hell.

"My daughter's formed a close bond with Y/N and if anything happens to her, you'll have to deal with me. And I don't think you'd want that." Lucifer threatened, eyes briefly turning red, "That's all I have to say!"He smiled as if nothing just happened and left to go to his room.

"And our dear, Y/N is a part of this hotel now." Alastor examined his staff before staring down the TV demon, "Under no circumstance for these next days am I to harm you but I will tell you this. Watch your intentions."

Alastor disappeared as quickly as he came, leaving Vox alone. He rolled his eyes at the warnings Alastor gave him, only really caring about Lucifer's. Right as he was about to settle into bed, a knock came at his door. He groaned in frustration.

"What now?" He complained, opening the door a bit too furiously, "What do you want—Oh. Hello, Y/N..." You stood in front of him in your pajamas. Which was a nightgown you got from Angel Dust as a present, it teased the dirty mind of whoever saw it but you honestly thought it was just a regular nightgown. Your cleavage threatened to spill out from the top at any wrong move and the shape of the dress partnered with the extremely light fabric meant that a breeze could easily blow it up.

It was a sight he wasn't expecting to see and if he was being honest, it flustered him to see you, a renowned angel, in such revealing clothes in front of his room at night. He awkwardly cleared his throat to snap himself out of his brief trance before hiding his nervousness behind a wide smile.

"Yes, Y/N? I was just about to go to bed. Do you need anything?" He leaned against the door frame, arms loosely crossed, "Or did you come here to tease me~"

You shook your head before handing him a box. "I forgot to give you this, I had left it on my nightstand and saw it before I laid to rest." You smile, "It's a welcome gift. I shall be heading off now. Good night!"

"Wai—" He spoke but you were already heading towards your room. He watched you walk away, eyes scanning the shape of your body as the nightgown landed on your curves. And he stared at your ass.

He goes back into his room to open what you'd given him. It was a bow tie that had the iconic Hazbin Hotel eye on it. Under it was a note.

'I made this myself. Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel! I hope you enjoy your stay! -Y/N'

He felt himself warm up at the gesture which felt weird to him. He was there to try to win you over with manipulation, trick you into forming a deal with him and taking you for himself away from the hotel. And now he's blushing?

"What the fuck..." He whispered to himself, having mixed emotions on his original plan. He shook it off and headed to bed. He only had 2 more days after all.

[readriordan]

Happy Halloween!

It's that time of year once again, and with the release of The Wrath Of The Triple Goddess, it seems only appropriate to take a look at some of Hecate's spoooooky~ children! Let's take a dive into the night and hang out with our favorite demigodly magic users!

1.) Lou Ellen Blackstone

You know her, you love her! Master of turning campers into pigs and prestidigitation, Lou Ellen is an extremely skilled daughter of H̵ecate. It's no wonder she's counselor of the brand new Cabin 2̷0̷! Lou Ellen is first during a counselor meeting in The Lost Hero, having literally stolen Miranda Gardiner's nose, and later is seen alongside her friends Will Solace and Cecil Markowitz in The Blood of Olympus. In interesting trivia (which also happens to be Hecate's oman name!) - Lou Ellen is technically the first human character in the franchise to use multiple sets of pronouns, due to being referred to with ħɘ/him̷ in the Polish translation of The Lost Hero.

2.) Josephine

Josephine, also known as Jo, is another daughter of Hecate and a former Hunter of Artemis. One of the few adult demigods we meet, Jo lives with her wife Hemithea, or Emmie, and their daughter Georgina. Together Jo and Emmie run the Waystation - a magic ever-shifting safehouse for demigods owned by the goddess Britomartis. Perhaps that's a bit of Hecate magic? Jo grew up in the 1920s, disguised as a man and working with mobsters until eventually joining the Hunt, where she met Hemithea. The two remained in the Hunt for several decades until deciding to leave so that they could continue to pursue their relationship. From there they became the stewardesses of the Waystation. In The Dark Prophecy, they meet our protagonist Apollo, alongside our old friends Leo Valdez and Calypso and offer them refuge throughout their quest.

3.) Lami҉༙྇ⱥ

One of Hecate's immortal children, Lamia was once a mortal woman. In some myths, she went insane after the abduction and murder of her children by the gods. In retaliation, Lamia began ki̴l̸l̵ing and devouring the children of others. For this, she was transformed into a monster, eternally hunting in retribution for her children. .̴̺̿.̴̩̾.̷̳̏ᴴᴱᴸᴸᴼ?.̶̹͠.̸͖͛.̴̧̄ And hunt she does! Lamia has quite the accomplishment among monsters, having̵ ̸c̸r̵e̴a̷t̶̫͝ē̴͎d̷̝̋ ̵̪͐a̷̯̐ s̷̘͖͛̚p̶̨̆̓é̵̛̪l̶̰̽̇l̶̥͛̑- HELLO? CAN YOU HEAR ME? -t̶̮̔h̷̜̐ȃ̷̗t̵͚́ makes it easier for monsters to track down demigods. Perhaps she's to blame for demigods not being able to use technology? Regardless, we meet her in T̷h̵e Dem̴i̸god D̷̝̋i̷̠͑ar̸i̷e̸s̶, where she's hunting dơ̷̻w̴̖̒n̷̤̽.̴̠̅.̵͉͒.̶̘͗ actually, ẉ̷͗h̸̹̔ô̸̪ ̴̼́ is s̴h̴e̶ ̵hunting down? Ǐ̷͍ can't s̴͕͗ȇ̵̞e̸̯͑m to recal̸l̵... .̸͖͛.̴̧̄ ᴾᴸᴱᴬᔆᴱ⸴ ᴸᴵᔆᵀᴱᴺ⁻ ᶜᴬᴺ ��ᴼᵁ ᴴᴱᴬᴿ ᴹᴱ? .̸͖͛.̴̧̄ Regardless, you can witness her terror for yourself in... oh, what was ţ̶̓ḧ̵̳a̴̯͒ť̷̝ short sto̷͙͐r̸̨͒y̸͖͗ called...? In... in... Ah, that's right! .Ɔ̷̱̄I̴̬̒Ә̸̯̽A̴̞̽M̶̱̆ ꟻO И̵͓̍Ö̶͉́Ƨ̸̭̒ ƎHT

4.) Hylla's Amazon Assistants

Perhaps the most obscure of Hecate's mortal children, we were nevertheless delighted to meet these two daughters of Hecate in The Blood of Olympus. Though nameless, these two are seen alongside Hylla as members of the Amazons. They assist her by shadow-travelling and fight Orion alongside her. Besides the̸s̶e̵ ̵t̵i̷n̷y̶ ̸g̶l̷i̷m̸p̴s̴e̶s̸,̴ ̷w̵e̶ d̶͔͑ȯ̷͜n̷͌ͅ'̷͕̎t̸͕͌ ̶̪̓s̵̝̕ē̷̗e̴͕̋ ̴̹̽m̷̫̊u̶͚̇c̶̡͑h̵̪͝ ̴̹̍o̶͕͗f̷̮͛ ̸͚͐t̸̳̕h̷̜̓e̴̠̒s̴̲͆e̶͇̿ t̴̤̓̄w̵̛̰̪o̷̩͊̚.̶͇́ ̶̝̦̆̃Ẃ̷̘̉e̶͚̔̆r̴̮̈́e̵̛͇ ̷̈́͆͜t̸̺̠̂̔h̶̘͂̈è̸̙͕y̶̟͗ ̷͌̄ͅs̸͈͉̈̑o̷̤̊r̷̠̭̋̃c̴̱̳͗͋e̴̛̟͇̽ṙ̴͔̕ë̵͉̝́̎s̵̻̺̒s̸̫͂͑e̵̝̅͛s̴̡͎̊̕ ̸̟̦̋ụ̸̈́͊n̷̨͎̊̈́d̷̪͑e̷̻͓̓́r̷̥̱̈́̊ ̶̨̗̈̏C̶̳͊͠i̵̤̫̎r̵͖͝c̵̠̗͑e̶̳̦͊ ̵͚͔͆ă̴̟̫̈l̵̨̗̐o̵̠̽̀ͅn̸̮͑́g̷̠͌s̷̥̻̽́i̷̻̍d̶̛̮͗e̴̲̓͋ ̸͈̫̎̕H̶̗̾ẏ̶̹͍l̷̲̺͋̅l̷̩͗͝ả̶̼͔͝ ̶̘͊a̸̢̎̓n̵͚͊ď̶̻̠ ̵̻̞̔Ř̶́ͅè̴͉͒y̸̬͋̚n̸̘̱͘͝a̵̯̘̕?̸͖̣́̌ ̵͇̬̓̉Ŵ̸̙̙͝ë̷̠̺̍r̶̠͇̂̏ȩ̵̳͝ ̶̟̀̈́ẗ̵́ͅḫ̸̈́ë̷̦́͜͝y̵̳̘̅ ̵̪͍́̊ă̵͇͠l̶̲͕͒ŕ̶̻̟e̶̗͆͘a̶͚̽̚d̶̡̆̅y̴̨͕̎ ̷̤̄p̸̞͝͝ą̵̝̍r̴͚̲͌t̸̤̺͌ ̴̨̀o̵͓͓͐f̶̲̍̑ ̸̱͇͋suozɐɯⱯ ǝɥʇ? 𝕎𝕙𝕠 ̵́𝓀ⲛⲟⲱ𝓼!̸̘͐ ̸̢͇̏̂𝕒𝓛𝓛 ̵̭̀͝t̸̤̓̕h̸̡̚e̶̹̒ ̷̥̼͝𝓂𝖔𝓇𝖊 ̵̠͕̑ŗ̸̿͒ỏ̴̞̖ȏ̴̭̉ḿ̶̹͉̀ ̶͎̃f̸̛̱̲̾ȏ̸̲̲͝r̷̠̔ ̵̳̏̌h̷͔͍͈̔͒͝ē̶̢͈̈̈́̈́ã̶̝̦͍̥̽͘d̷̛̺̤͙̅͋̈̑c̸̭̽̓̾̊͌â̴̤̤ň̸͎͉͙͂̓̕ŏ̷͎̫̣̬̇̽̏̇n̸̜͙͍̓̋ͅs̴͙̻̲̄!̴̨̣̬̱̅̍

5̸͋́̈́͜.̴̘͖̬̯̱̒͋̾͝)̵̢̝͒̀̐̕ Ɐl҉༙྇ꅔƀä͓̰́ͫꕷt̖̪͈̽̂ͤ͡ēⓡ Ć̷͇. ₮ꝋʁɍiꞥꞡⱦ_̓o🅝

S̶p̷e̵a̷k̵i̸n̸g̴ ̶o̵f̸ ̶d̸e̶m̴i̴g̸o̷d̶s̸ ̶w̵e̸ ̸d̸o̵n̸'̴t̸ ̸k̶n̶o̴w̴ ̴m̷u̸c̵h̷ ̴a̴b̸o̵u̶t̶ ̵-̵ ̷h̸e̶y̸,̴ ̸w̸̵̶̢̙̙̫̐̂ḣ̴̸̷̠̺̯̣̓̄õ̷̵̷͔̼̝̓̎͠ ̶i̴s̶ ̴t̶h̵i̵s̸ ̷g̵u̵y̵?̷ L̵i̴t̷t̷l̷e̴ ̴i̸s̷ ̸k̶n̷o̶w̸n̴ ̴a̴b̷o̶u̴t̸ ̶t̷h̷i̴s̵ ̶m̶y̵s̵t̷e̸r̶i̶o̶u̸s̷ ̸s̴o̷n̷ ̸o̵f̶ ̷H̷e̵c̴a̷t̴e̶.̵ ̸I̵n̶ ̸f̸a̷c̶t̶,̷ ̴I̶ ̴c̵a̸n̶'̸t̸ ̵s̸e̵e̷m̶ ̵t̸o̷ ̵̴̪͠ṙ̴̠é̵̼c̵͉͗â̸̤l̶͖̎l̴̻͂ ̷̬̏ä̵̗́n̵͍̈́y̶͈͗t̶̛̠h̸̩̎i̷̮̇n̴̥͝g̴͔̈́ ̴̤̈a̶̿͜t̴͔̉ ̴̈ͅa̴̾͜l̷̨̊ļ̷̛.̸̭͂.̵̧̈́͊̈́.̴̻̩̼̎.̸̟̹͓̎͊?̵̯̲̓̈́

-̶̟̂Ḣ̸͖e̶̛̜ḻ̴̏l̵͉̈́ỏ̷̬?̷̺̏ H̷e̸l̵lo? I think I've got this working. Please, listen, I don't have much time.

My name is Alabaster Torrington. I'm the son of Hecate, I was exiled from the demigod camps, and my half-sister is hunting me down as we speak.

My siblings were killed for following our mother in the Titan War, and I nearly was as well. The gods decided to prolong my suffering, exiling me so I couldn't "corrupt" my siblings who were forced to join Camp Half-Blood. My monstrous half-sister was tasked to hunt me down and kill me, and so far has successfully killed a mortal working with me. I nearly succeeded in trapping her to prevent her from reforming, but unfortunately our mother wishes for neither of us to die, so I was prevented from doing so.

In my search for ways to defeat her, I am on the brink of a breakthrough that I believe may change the lives of all demigods. I just need time.

I am extremely close to finding a way to break my sister's curse upon demigods that aids monsters in tracking us. But so long as I'm being hunted I'm not able to work on it. I-

D̸a̴m̵m̴i̶t̸!̶ I'm out of time. I'll contact you again̴ ̵a̷s̴ ̶s̵o̸o̷n̴ ̵a̶s̴ ̴I̴'̶m̵ ̵a̴b̸l̵e̷.̸ ̸ ̸̸̸̣̩̐̽ ̷̲̚U̶̩͋n̷̠̿t̸̫̅ȉ̵̺ļ̶̇ ̷̲̈́t̶̫̀ḩ̴͗ȇ̶̡ñ̷̦-̷͙͘!̴͓̈́

[̷C̴R̷A̷S̷H̴]̵

-̴̬̖͠ ̵̟̙̎Y̶̘̲̊͠o̷̢͑u̶̹̿ ̷c̵a̵n̸ ̶s̴e̸e̷ ̴Ⓜ̙𝑜𝑟e of Alabaster in The Son of Magic, a short story written er, ahem, an "interview," "transcribed" by Haley Riordan - since of course, Camp Half-Blood's own resident transcriber was not able to get close enough to speak with a wary former Titan Army member - that can be found in The Demigod Diaries.

Regardless, you can see more of Hecate herself in The Wrath Of The Triple Goddess. Perhaps we'll be seeing more of Hecate's children soon as well?

[voxisdaddy]

Old Fashioned

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

Pairing: Vox x Reader

Type: Headcanons

Featuring: Alastor, Rosie

C/TW: Stalking, Swearing, mentions of porn, use of (y/n)

In which Vox could go full stalker mode on his crush, Reader, but reader doesn’t use much technology and avoids VoxTek appliances.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ I personally headcanon that Vox, while yes can use any technology to his advantage, only VoxTek products can give him full advantage of his powers.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ Which is infuriating when on his cameras, he spotted you using your phone and was confused on why he couldn’t easily hack into it. He couldn’t get into it. What the fuck?

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ It wasn’t until he spotted you again some time later in some tech store looking at some phone cases. He watched as you pealed your old phone case off, revealing a phone that was not a VoxTek phone.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ No; it was a rival companies. Not quite as rich and empowering as VoxTek, but still a rival company nonetheless.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ He hates that company.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ They even started out doing some of his own sales just days after release.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ Well that’s just great. But not a total loss. Perhaps he could get his advertisement team to push for more advertisements on well, anything and everything.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ Over the next several days he tried that before realizing he has no way to check if it’s you know, reaching you

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ Why? Because you don’t even have a TV in your place! Which he found through following you on his cameras around Pride

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ “What person in todays world doesn’t have a television?” He grits through his teeth, starring at your door through a security camera

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ Well you apparently and he found out through an online web forum or comment section, whatever suits your fancy, you used one night

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ “I don’t really have a use for a tv” something along those lines

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ Through some more stalking and hacking he was finally able to get somewhere. Not through any appliance unfortunately, but you had fortunately downloaded a thing which had a VoxTek bug attached to it. Success!!

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ He was able to hack the phone, not to its fullest potential but still enough for now, and would have it on one of his monitors constantly. It’s here where he learned through your screen time in your phone settings that you hardly use the thing

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ Occasionally he sees you’re active using it however, to which he’s quick to drop whatever it is he’s doing to you know, watch you do whatever it is you’re doing on your phone. It’s mildly annoying to those around him

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ But he can’t help it! Who do you text? Do you have a partner? Are you on dating apps? Do you watch porn and if so, which kind do you like?

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ He doesn’t really learn much, or as much and the specifics he’d like, but it’s something. Ah so this is the music you like to listen to whenever the radio isn’t playing it, huh? You have a few pictures… several notes in your notes app… some app to text only a small handful of people on occasion. He wonders if suddenly following you on the app would be too much.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ I mean, your account isn’t exactly anything special to the public eye per say. And even if it was, you certainly weren’t on it or gave much of a crap on it. So Vox’s suddenly millions and millions of followers on his account would probably raise some questions from you. But that would be good right? Maybe you’d shoot him a message asking why he followed you, and your relationship starts there! You can officially meet for the first time! Okay it would be through text but it still counts!

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ For this headcanons post, I’m keeping in mind that the reader is before the 2000’s time. So anywhere between the near start of hell to the 90’s lol

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ Which if Vox found this out, he’d be a little confused. He died or relatively came around the 1950’s, he knew people from the 1930’/, who still use todays technology. Are you this much of an old soul to really not use anything like todays tech to your daily entertainment? And no—using the alarm doesn’t count!! He can’t even see you so…

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ You know how I said you avoid VoxTek appliances? Wanna know why?

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ “FUCKING ALASTOR!”

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ Vox glitches out in a rage when on his cameras, he saw you sitting around a table with Rosie and Alastor.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ “Oh and I guess—FUCKING ROSIE—!” Hey he’s an inclusive guy.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ Oh ho! So you’re acquainted with those two? The old fucks that even Zestial seems more youthful compared to at times. Vox curses out the two overlords further. Your acquaintances now making sense why you don’t use technology and specifically avoid Vox’s. Yeah. They’re definitely intentionally leading you away from anything VoxTek. And you seemed to have no issue with that? Wtf!?

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ “(Y/n) dear, I heard rumours that you were seeking a new place to call home. Might I ask how that’s going?” Alastor glitches out his cameras but it was doing for now, Vox grumbled.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ So you’re moving huh? Oh well. Vox isn’t particularly worried. He’s got cameras all over Pride. He’d be able to find your new home quickly and who knows, maybe it’ll be more convenient to stalk you then!

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ “Oh yes, Alastor! Rosie has been such a peach in helping me find a suitable place for me to move into. Why I’m quite proud to announce that I am now a home owner! No more little apartments for me.” You’d share a little snack with Rosie. That snack catering to your taste or hers is up to you.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ Ah… a house. Okay apartment builders are required to have security cameras in their general areas and hallways so a house and if you’d even put up security cameras might cause some issue but still. Their would be cameras around your neighborhood or whatever, right? And you’d still have your phone on you so at least theirs still that for Vox to keep an eye on you—

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ “Darling, I’m so glad you finally decided to move into Cannibal Town!” Vox froze at Rosie’s words.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ Cannibal Town? Fucking Cannibal Town?? Old 1920’s town with carcasses to feed off of at nearly every corner? Really?

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ Vox barley has cameras in Cannibal Town! He has a few, hence why he can stalk your lunch session right now with Rosie and Alastor, but it’s one of the very few cameras he has up here. What was wrong with your old place?! Vox screams and you just so happen to conveniently answer—ah how nice.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ “My current apartment is less than desirable for my tastes. Too much loud obnoxious music, distasteful lyrics, horrendous billboards, flashing lights and way too much modern technology. Call me old but that Vee stuff really gives me a headache.”

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ Vox swears that shit eating grin Alastor threw at seemingly nothing was thrown specifically at Vox in that moment.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ Vox needs to meet you soon. Surely you’d fall in love with him. He was waiting for the perfect opportunity but you seem to just be getting further away the more he waits.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ Just please don’t toss out your phone. That’s like the one modern thing you have. It’s all he has.

Guess who’s sleep schedule is (kind of) fixed and can actually start posting requests and general reader stuff on a moderately decent schedule?? Meeee

I got so much requests to work on (I encourage more to be sent though please I like having these things to work on) and I’m very excited to post more lol

[wondersinwaynemanor]

some Red Hood's men discussion

Man 1: I heard the boss is a redhead and he uses this special shampoo to make sure his hair don't fall off. His helmet keeps his hair healthy.

Man 2: That's possible. But probably cus he's old, his hair is falling out. And he uses a flip phone, right? I think the boss must be old, like nearing 50's. He doesn't know modern technology.

Man 3: Ah, man, fuck the rich and their technology. But hear this out. I think the boss is secretly a meta. I saw him get stabbed by the chest, but didn't even bleed out. And look how ridiculously tall he is!

Man 4: Nah, dude, we're just weak and short as fuck compared to him. But what if the boss is actually a writer? I mean, we've seen those large shelves of books in his office. I'm sure he doesn't only read, but also write, right?

Man 5: Hmmm, maybe. The boss is smart as fuck. But you won't be ready for this? Cus I swear to God, I've heard someone say he's a fan of Wonder Woman. I think I've seen a Wonder Woman poster in his office.

Man 6: Huh? I don't blame him. Wonder Woman is beautiful and hot as fuck-

Red Hood, voice so loud and deep, which scares his men: What are you ladies gossiping about? Get your lazy asses back to work! You better make sure you know how this lead goes tonight cus if not. Well, it will be bloody.

Man 1: Sorry, boss.

Man 2: On it, boss.

Man 3: Right away, boss.

Once the Red Hood turns around from his men, he checks his flip phone to read the message from Nightwing about when will Wonder Woman be visiting the Manor for brunch so he can get her to sign his new Wonder Woman merch.

turns out Red Hood's men are only right about the Wonder Woman one, but who knows. he actually might be a writer too.

[luveline]

If you ever start requests up again (if you don't thats fine lol), I'd wonder how Miguel would be with an autistic (or any neurodivergent disability) reader? Thanks regardless for the great reads you've given!

hi!! i don't have autism so please forgive any inauthenticity, but i have a frame of reference in someone close to me so I hope this is somewhat like you wanted! if you ever want to request with specific traits, please do! ty for requesting

"This is the worst thing that could've happened," Miguel says, furious. 

You, sitting on the table by his workbench, glance away from your book reluctantly. Your lips part, confusion a line between your brows as you ask, "Are you making a joke?" 

"It's hyperbole. I'm exaggerating." 

"I thought so, but it's hard to tell. You said it very convincingly." 

"Sorry," he says, glaring down at his broken doohickey. Useless plastic, useless screwdriver useless Miguel. 

"Exaggerating… you're upset," you say. 

Miguel is both surprised and not. He doesn't always expect you to be able to read him. Your autism complicates how you recognise emotion, but you're caring, and now you've been told an effect (exaggeration) you can identify the cause (Miguel's broken device). 

"I'm frustrated," he tells you, leaning back in his chair. "I really thought this one would work." 

"I think the wrong thing all of the time," you say, sympathy creeping into your tone. Some might think you're unemotional, and the reality might be true for others, even yourself when you're with unfamiliar people, but it's not true in this instance. "Maybe I can help." 

Miguel scoots back his chair and you stand between his thighs, eyes roving over the fragments of his device, taking everything in. You love engineering —your involvement with the Arachno Humanoid Poly Multiverse had been, in your own words, the best thing that ever happened to you, as it dropped you head first into new technology, better technology than you ever saw on your Earth. You spend longer than you should bending over books about science undiscovered on your planet, your life a pressing of hydraulics, centrifuges, holographic projection, and magbelt machinery that Miguel loves to play. 

"It's badly soldered," you say. 

He winces. No punches held. "I used to be better." 

"You're bad now." 

You asked him a while back to let you know if you ever stepped on his toes, so to speak. Usually Miguel would leap to agitated disagreement, but you asked, and he likes you. He explains.

"Ah, that hurts my feelings," he says, without heat. "I know objectively that you're right, but people appreciate fluffing when it comes to observational critique." Miguel scoots his chair back as you turn to face him. "It's okay. I'm not mad." 

"You're patient," you say, nodding. "Sorry. Fluffing… how would you say it?" 

"I'd say, your soldering is a little iffy." 

"It's a lot iffy." 

"That's the fluffing. A white lie. No one's feelings get hurt and the problem is still identified." 

You nod more. "I'm a little better at soldering. I can fix it for you." 

"Nice," he says. 

He stands up and squeezes your shoulder gently. Your face dips to his hand and holds it there, cheek pressed to his knuckles, a smile turning the corners of your mouth up. Miguel isn't expecting it, but he doesn't rush you. 

"Can we spend time together after we fix it?" you ask.

"If we fix it." 

"I can fix it," you say happily, straightening your head and freeing his hand. "I'm much better at soldering than you." 

Miguel's a prideful person by instinct. He walks to the side of the workshop where he keeps the soldering iron and associated paraphernalia, throwing a quip over his shoulder, "You think you're better."

"I know I'm better," you say, sitting in his chair. "Sorry. I know a little that I'm better." 

He should say, Hey, we'll work on it, but Miguel doesn't want to. He likes you just as you are, accidental insults and all. 

[nevadancitizen]

-> CH. 13: THE JOYS OF SOVIET TECHNOLOGIES

synopsis: you celebrate the release of kollektiv 2.0, and meet a kind stranger and an american danseur that both seem really familiar.

word count: 1.9k

ships: Connor/Reader, Hank Anderson & Reader

notes: the long wait is over!!!! the research essay has been slain and i have time to write again :)

HoFS taglist: @catladyhere , @foggy0trees0 , @princessofenkanomiya , @n30n-f43 , @igna4400 (if you'd like to be added to the taglist, just ask!)

HEAD OF FALSE SECURITY MASTERLIST

The bright sun above fills you with a pleasant warmth, but the plentiful trees that line the canal provide a wealth of shade. Automated paddle boats cut through the water at a languid pace, giving the couples inside plenty of time to talk and a semblance of privacy.

People are friendlier now than at any other time of the year – you’re all attending a festival, so it makes sense. They smile and shake your hand and greet you with a happy “Is it not an amazing day, comrade?” 

The booths you walk past are showing off the new weapons they’ve developed and their upgrades (you’ve never seen a Kalashnikov in person before!), THOUGHT devices and their benefits, and a myriad of other advanced technologies only now being revealed to the public. But the bells and whistles are to be expected – today is a celebration of Facility 3826, after all.

The date is June 12th, 1955. And it’s a wonderful day to be a citizen of the glorious Soviet Union.

As you walk by, machines continue their routines. VOV-A6 Techs work on foot to deliver crates (you’d almost mistake them for humans if not for the mark on the middle of their backs and the unfeeling, unmoving mask they have for a face). MTU-7 Bumblebees move cargo crates through the sky, the sound of their blades beating against the wind sending a soft hum through the air. TER-A1 Tereshkovas guide tourists through the city, their feet barely scraping the concrete as they move. 

“Good day, comrade!” Someone’s voice cuts you from your thoughts. It’s a facility representative – a man dressed in a white labcoat, a crisp black tie, and a THOUGHT device (a module placed on the temple with wires that float off the browbone to reach over to the opposite temple). “Come closer! I’m here to help.”

“Hello, comrade,” you say. You look over at the booth he’s standing by. It’s a short silver pole, no taller than him, with a circular tray floating around it, rotating slowly. It has little different colored modules on it, each floating above their designated coupling. 

“Would you like a THOUGHT device?” He asks. “It’s high time you got one!”

“No, thank you.” You hold up a hand. “I’m just browsing for now.”

“Why restrict yourself to browsing when you can get your own personalized device this very instant?” The man asks. “I can help you pick out the right unit. It can even match your eye color!”

He picks up one and holds it close to your face, as if gauging it. “Ah, yes! A violet gooseberry model would suit you well.” He takes the module away and looks you over. “You… are polymerized, aren’t you?”

“Yes, sir,” you say. “But… I thought those devices weren’t going to come online until next Monday.”

“That’s right, comrade. But some people like to get it early, like a pre-order.” He tosses the module on the tray, and it magnetizes back to its coupling. “At the moment, the device functions as a personal telephone set and headlight, but it also allows the user to get used to wearing it on their head.”

“Well…” You look over the modules on the rotating tray. “It’s free, right?”

“Absolutely!” The man says, a smile on his worn face. “Allow me to connect you.”

He gestures to the booth, telling you to take your pick. You look over your options before picking out one that’s a crisp cerulean blue – you don’t know why, but the color seems nice to you. Like it reminds you of something, or someone. You pick it up even as the device tries to stay magnetized to its coupling. You turn it over in your hand before pressing it to your temple. It sticks, and wires come out to reach over to your other temple, like a half-crown or half-halo. 

The man presses a finger to his THOUGHT device. After a few moments, a confused look crosses his face. 

“Khm, that’s odd…” he says. “It seems I can’t access your biometric data. Maybe there’s some sort of malfunction…? I’m so sorry.”

You take off the module and return it to its place on the tray. “Ah, don’t sweat it. I don’t wear a lot of jewelry, anyway. Thanks for telling me about it, though.”

“Of course, comrade,” the man says. “Again, I do apologize. Have a good day!”

“You too.” You turn to walk, but stop yourself. “Actually, sir – I have a question, if you don’t mind.”

“Yes?” He says. 

“It’s about…” You gesture vaguely around. “The people. They’re all speaking English. I don’t mind, since I can speak it. But I would expect at least some Russian.”

“Oh, yes!” The man laughs. “Facility 3826 is promoting the learning of English, just in case anyone sees anything of American origin. This is so if anyone sees or hears English, they’d be able to discern whether or not it’s a threat to the goodness of our Union. The festival is a good time to practice for people that are still learning.”

“That makes sense,” you hum. “Thank you.”

You continue walking down the street. It would’ve been nice to have a transportable telephone, but it’s not like you’re in dire need of one. You can figure that out later. 

There’s a small crowd gathered around a RAF-9 Engineer juggling various things it’s taken from the crowd: pochette-style purses, children’s toys, cigarette cartons. You stop at the edge of the group and watch as it throws the items up and catches them with pinpoint accuracy. 

There’s a hand on your shoulder. “Hey, kid.”

You turn and see a man. He’s late forties, early fifties at most. His hair brushes past his ears in an untamed, grey mop and his beard matches it. His face is worn, but his gap-toothed smile is kind.

“I’m sorry, comrade.” You smile politely. “But I… don’t recognize you. You’re probably mistaking me for someone else.”

“Oh, shit,” he says, removing his hand from your shoulder. “You look like someone I know. My bad.”

“Well, I’m sure your friend is around here somewhere!” You try. “They may be at one of the cheburek or bliny stands. There’s a really good one selling bliny just down that way.”

The stranger checks over his shoulder, where you were pointing, then looks back to you. “I’m not from around here. You mind showing me the way?”

You check your pocket watch and mentally count the time until Dmitry Sechenov’s grand speech. You’re not crunched for time yet, and it would do you good to have something to tide you over until you could eat a real meal.

“Yeah, sure.” You start walking, and the stranger matches your pace.

“The stand has a few fillings,” you say, both to fill dead air and to make the silence less awkward. “Fruit preservatives – cherries, apples, plums, berries – meat, honey, or just plain with butter and salt.”

“What’s your recommendation?” The now-somewhat-familiar stranger asks. 

“Well, in the spring, they’d have imported lemon preservatives,” you say. “But it’s summer, so that well’s dried up. I’d just go with the cherries. Sweet or bitter, it doesn’t really matter to me.”

“You’re just makin’ me hungry,” the stranger mumbles with a smile.

You laugh. “That’s the idea, no?”

After another minute of walking, the stand comes into view. Two men are operating the stand, and the soft scent of batter on the griddle beckons you closer. A radio is playing.

“Look at the menu,” you tell the familiar-stranger. “Take your pick. It’s cheap, so I’ll pay.”

You look around while he looks at the menu. There’s other people, obviously, and some on the canal are pointing at a man in an automated paddleboat. You barely hear whispers of “It’s comrade Major Nechayev!”

You turn your eyes away. Nechayev doesn’t really interest you. From what you’ve heard, he’s just some military dog leftover from the Red Army. What does interest you is the crowd across the canal. 

They’re gathered around some sort of stage that must’ve been assembled temporarily for the festival, like an American carnival. You watch for a few moments, but can’t glimpse what’s happening on stage. 

The stranger pulls you out of your thoughts. “Hey, what’re they talkin’ about on the radio?”

You turn back to him. “Huh?”

He points at the radio that’s playing on the bliny stand. It’s playing a jingle: “For the greatest advancements in cosmetic enhancements, there’s only one man you should be trusting your glam with!”

You listen a little longer and catch a name – Doctor Steinman – and roll your eyes. “It’s that underwater city off the coast of Iceland. The one that uses the same technologies as the ones invented to create the Neptune complex here.”

The stranger nudges you. “Why’re you rollin’ your eyes?”

“The city won’t last,” you say. “They say that it’s a city where the great won’t be brought down by the small. And all those immigrants go to Rapture thinking they’ll survive the fire of American-based industry. But they forget that, even in utopia, someone has to scrub the toilets.”

“Yeah, that’s a factor most forget,” the stranger says. 

“Eh, what else do you expect from capitalists?” You shrug. “Let’s just order. What do you want?”

The stranger looks back at the menu. “Uh… a bliny with… apple preserves.”

You quickly order your bliny and his and fork over the rubles, then look across the canal. The performance is still going. 

��Listen, khm,” you say to the stranger without looking away from the stage. “Can you watch our order? I want to see what’s happening across the canal.”

“Uh… yeah, sure,” the stranger says. 

You thank him quickly and hurry over the bridge to get to the other side of the waterway. You slowly make your way through the crowd – not to the front, but just enough so you can see…

A danseur? (Or a ‘ballerino’ in other countries, you suppose.) He’s wearing a form-fitting black shirt and a matching pair of tights. His pointe shoes are a soft pink, just a few shades off his skin tone. A THOUGHT device crowns his head – the same cerulean blue model you were looking at earlier. 

As he moves, he matches the music perfectly. It’s like he was born to extract the flow and rhythm from music and express it in dance. His feet don’t break their arch and don’t falter, even for a split second. 

Then, he turns. On his front, over his left breast, is a small American flag. 

Your eyebrows crease. You lean over and quietly ask a nearby woman, “He’s from America?”

“It was made in America,” she whispers back. “It’s an android, comrade.”

The danseur turns his head as his arm swoops up to point his fingertips to the sky. His soft, brown eyes lock with yours with you and you feel… you don’t know what you feel. It’s something physical, on your back. Maybe someone bumped into you? But the crowd isn’t moving. 

You take a step backwards as he continues staring at you, stock-still. You take another, then look behind you. The crowd is gone.

“Какого хуя?” You mumble. 

You look back up at the danseur. He’s moved a little closer, his feet just barely stepping off the stage. He comes closer, his movements still fluid and graceful, like he’s still dancing.

“Officer?” He asks softly. 

“What?” You say. 

His hand comes to your face, his fingertips just barely brushing across your jawline. His lips start to form a word, but –

-> CH 13: GOOD, HONEST SNAKE OIL – IF THERE IS SUCH A THING!

synopsis: after you and arthur swing by the sheriff's office, you go on a run to hunt a bounty and meet a man who seems really familiar.

word count: 1.3k

ships: CH: “mister kamski? the officer is stable, and is responding well to the reintegration system.”

notes: EK: “make sure they go through each as quickly as possible, chloe. i need to see if they can get back on their feet.”

HoTS taglist: @catladyhere , @foggy0trees0 , @princessofenkanomiya , @n30n-f43 , @igna4400 (if you'd like to be added to the taglist, just ask!)

HOUSE OF TRUE SECURITY MASTERLIST

“I got it.” A voice pulls you to look over at the entrance to the Valentine’s Sheriff’s Office. It’s Arthur Morgan, holding up a folded-up wanted poster. 

You lean down from your horse (a beautiful Dutch Warmblood named Bronya) and reach out to Arthur as he approaches. “Give this to me.”

Arthur hands over the poster, and you unfold it. It’s for one mister Benedict Allbright – needed alive, for a reward of fifty dollars.

“He needs to be living?” You say. “This is unlike you.”

Arthur mounts his horse, a Tenessee Walker named Marie. He clicks his tongue and presses his legs together against Marie’s flank once, and she starts trotting. You and Bronya follow. 

“Was the only one there,” Arthur says as you pull up beside him. “They says he’s been poisonin’ folks with some ‘miracle cure’ from here to Annesburg. Says he killed more ‘n Landon Ricketts without even pullin’ a trigger.”

“Troubling,” you say. “He is dangerous?”

Arthur looks over at you. “Would I bring you along if he was?”

“He cannot be more trouble than Angel Island,” you say. 

And everything comes rushing back. The Wild West is being tamed. A robbery in Blackwater went wrong, and you and the rest of the Van der Linde gang were forced to flee east – the exact opposite of where you wanted to go. And you’re only in this mess because of the officials operating Angel Island. They somehow messed up your papers, and you couldn’t get the work you were promised. You were forced to steal, lie and sometimes even kill to get your way. 

The date is June 12th, 1899. And it’s a normal day as a somewhat-citizen of the United States of America.

“Where is this… Allbright?” You ask. 

“Fellers down at the Sheriff’s said he was holed up in some gorge north a’ here,” Arthur says. 

“Ah! I know what you speak of,” you say, squeezing Bronya’s sides with your claves. She breaks into a canter. “Follow!”

“Now, you can’t just –!” Arthur makes an exasperated sound, then matches your speed. “At least give me a warnin’!”

You laugh, the sound full of warmth. The ground beneath the horses’ hooves turns from the mud of Valentine into the drier dirt of the outer town limits. 

A few minutes later, you pull off the well-trodden trail and into the knee-high grasses. You lead Arthur through the sparse trees that make up the edges of Cumberland Forest.

“How come you know these parts so well?” Arthur asks, breaking the somewhat-silence.

“I have a good head,” you say. “After riding through this place once, I know it, um… I know it like…” You grumble, frustrated. You know what you’re trying to say, but just… can’t articulate it right. You’re tempted to just say it in Russian, but Arthur wouldn’t understand, and you would risk any passerby potentially becoming hostile. (Shouldn’t you speak better English than this? You remember speaking better English than this…)

“What’re you tryna say?” Arthur asks. He’s used to this.

You take one of your hands away from the reins and hold it up. “Something to do with hands. I know it like… like my hands know it?”

“Like the back of my hand,” Arthur corrects. 

“That!” You chime, re-taking the reins in hand. “I know it like the back of my hand.”

You hear the sound of water running along a riverbed and perk up. “We are close.”

Marie follows Bronya as you guide her up a slope into a small alcove carved into a mountain. It’s a thin slope – on one side is the mountain, and on the other is a twenty-meter drop into a river. The alcove is housing a man – supposedly Benedict Allbright – and his horse.

You turn back to Arthur and jerk your head towards Allbright. He’s always been the more intimidating of you two, so you’re letting him lead this one. 

Arthur grunts and dismounts his horse before walking by Bronya, towards Allbright. “Oh, what we got here?”

He continues walking forward until he comes to a stop just before Allbright’s bedroll and campfire. “Are you Benedict Allbright?”

Allbright stands, backing away from Arthur a bit. “N-no, sir.”

“You kinda look like him,” Arthur says. “And we was told he’d be up here.”

“No, uh,” Allbright says. “Not me, sir.”

“It’s because…” Arthur sighs, and looks out of the alcove, down at the river. “I wanna buy some medicine. And, I heard… I heard good things.”

The corner of your mouth twitches up. Arthur could rival Hosea with his tact for semantics, even if he adamantly denies it. 

“I’ll pay – in gold – i-if you can help me find him. It’s just…” Arthur glances over at you, then the ground, like it pains him to look at you. “My brother’s child over there is real sick. Russiatitus, they was callin’ it. Rare disease. We tried all them medicines they said to try, but… nothin’s workin’.”

“Oh!” Allbright looks over at you through his spectacles and smiles. “Well… if it’s for the ill, I’d be more than happy to help!”

He turns and walks over to his bags, picking out a small bottle filled with a viscous, dark yellow liquid. “I’m a healer, y’know? A medical man.”

Allbright turns back and hands it to Arthur. “Finest medicine in the state.”

Arthur pretends to be wowed, then tosses the bottle off the edge of the alcove and into the river. Before Allbright has time to react, he’s drawn his revolver. So have you. You spur Bronya to walk forward, past Allbright’s horse and partially into his camp.

“Game’s over, mister.” Arthur angles himself so that he’s blocking the only other exit. “Put your hands up – we’re takin’ you in.”

“Takin’ me in?” Allbright repeats, like it’s the most ridiculous thing he’s ever heard. He puts his hands up. “What for?”

“Apparently that stuff you’re pushin’ is killin’ folk, n’ there’s a price on your head,” Arthur says. “I don’t know, it ain’t my business.”

“C’mon, partner, that’s crap. I’m a healer! I-I’ve got an aura… I speak to spirits! I’m a scientist!” Allbright insists. “Folks get real angry for no good reason, and this… this is a mistake.” He looks over at you. “S-surely you can talk some sense into him?”

“Hm…” You twitch your nose and shrug, not lowering your gun. “No.”

“Keep your hands up, buddy.” Arthur reaches forward carefully, taking Allbright’s gun from its holster and tossing it into the river. “They only want you for questionin’.”

“I – I have to insist that this is a mistake,” Allbright says. 

“Don’t be a fool,” Arthur says, corralling him towards the edge of the alcove. 

You look down at the river, then notice… a man. He’s looking up at you from where he stands in the riverbed, his pants soaked up to the knee. And – shit, from where he’s standing, he can clearly see you and Arthur pointing your guns at Allbright.

“Arthur,” you say without looking away from the man. “A man is watching. Maybe he is thinking we are robbing.”

“Go get ‘im,” Arthur says. “I got this handled.”

You click your tongue and tug on Bronya’s reins. She turns and starts walking down the slope to the river. 

The man doesn’t run as you approach him, despite your saddlebag holsters both holding rifles. Instead, he’s just… staring, with soft, brown eyes. 

He seems… familiar. Really familiar. Then again, Angel Island is on the west coast, and you’re pretty far from there, so you’ve seen a lot of people while in America. But… the bright blue stain on his temple seems so familiar. God, you swear you know him. Where is he from?

“You are watching me and my friend?” You ask, jerking your head towards the alcove. “The man is a bounty. He has been killing people from here and eastward, poisoning them with a… tonic. We do not rob for joy. We hunt bounties.”

The man walks forward, almost stumbling on the stones of the riverbed. “Officer?”

You rack your brain for that word, but come up with nothing. “I – I do not know the meaning of this English word… officer.”

He swallows thickly, then takes a breath. His lips start to form a word, but –

-> CH. 13: LET’S TALK HOMECOMING (THE MILITARY OPERATION, NOT PROM)

synopsis: you wake up on a helicopter, fresh from being saved, and meet a pilot that seems really familiar.

word count: ~900

ships: CH: “they were relatively unresponsive to that one. shall i introduce one that is less familiar?”

notes: EK: “yes. it should still be american, but... mixed with soviet suffering.”

ToFS taglist: @catladyhere , @foggy0trees0 , @princessofenkanomiya , @n30n-f43 , @igna4400 (if you'd like to be added to the taglist, just ask!)

THREAT OF FALSE SECURITY MASTERLIST

“Wake up,” a voice mumbles. A hand grasps your shoulder and shakes you. “C’mon, commie…”

You open your eyes and see a man that’s familiar, but not. Like you’ve known him your whole life but only really registered his existence just now. He’s wearing a half-balaclava with a skull pattern and a beanie, and the skin around his ice-blue eyes is smeared with black greasepaint. 

“What the hell is happening?” You manage through gritted teeth. You shift and try to sit up from the bench of the helicopter you’re in, but he pushes you back down. 

“You got the bright idea to follow the twin brats to find Elias,” he says. “Into a goddamn burning house, no less. Jackass.”

You groan and close your eyes, bringing a fist to your forehead. “Keegan, don’t. Not right now.” His name slips from your lips before you even realize it. (So you do know this man, and probably the rest of the people on this helicopter… odd.)

In a fashion that seems familiar, it all comes back to you in a tidal wave of information. The energy deserts of Iraq, Saudi Arabia, Kuwait, and the rest of the major oil producers dried up a decade ago, sending the world into a panic. The entirety of South America united under the banner of the Federation of the Americas and the guide of General Diego Almagro, both willingly and unwillingly. General Almagro was assassinated in 2015, but his presence was still felt as the Federation took over Panama, then Costa Rica, then Nicaragua, working their way up to Mexico and, the other night, Dallas, Texas. 

You are a part of the Ghosts: a spec ops team set on beating back the Federation, even if it is a losing battle. 

The date is June 12th, 2027. And it’s a godawful day to be a citizen of the burning remains of the United States of America.

Hesh (one of the ‘twin brats,’ even though Logan is two years younger) pulls Keegan away and shoves him up against the wall of the helicopter. “You need to get this bird back on the ground. We’re not going anywhere!”

Keegan pushes him back easily, then adds, “Calm down, kid.”

“Hey!” Merrick body-slams Hesh into the wall. (He’s never been known for his gentleness.) “We just saved your asses!”

“We didn’t need your help!” Hesh snaps. 

Merrick takes hold of the collar of Hesh’s tac vest. Keegan taps your legs, and you sit up, pulling your legs up to your chest. Good thing you did – Merrick shoves Hesh down on the bench a moment later. 

“The hell you didn’t,” Merrick spits, towering over Hesh.

Elias shoves Merrick away with a, “Stow it! All of you.” (His voice is slightly muffled through his full-face balaclava, but it carries authority all the same.)

There’s a lot of light violence happening in the cabin of this helicopter, but you suppose that’s to be expected when the military comes around.

Hesh stands, facing Elias. “We have to go back! Our dad’s down there, and we’re not leaving without him!”

Logan stands too, signing at Elias. His words are angry, and his face is drawn into something like a snarl. He’s signing fast, but you manage to pick up something about him kicking everyone’s ass and tacking on a “TRUE BIZ” at the end, meaning that he’s not joking.

“That’s real admirable of you, Hesh, and I’m sure you can, Logan,” Elias says, sitting them both back down. “But your father’s not there anymore.”

He takes off his mask, revealing himself. 

“Dad?” Hesh says. “This whole time you were one of them? You’re a Ghost?!”

You look up and exchange glances with Keegan. Neither of you were really ones for surprise plot-twists or epic reveals. From what you can see, his expression looks bored and his eyebrows are drawn together a little, like a silent, ‘Can you believe this shit?’

You get up and Keegan automatically holds onto your shoulder, just in case you were to fall. You walk closer to the open cockpit, keeping a hand on the wall for the same reason. 

“What even happened?” You ask once you and Keegan were an acceptable distance away from the commotion. 

Keegan lets go of your shoulder and leans against the back of the pilot’s seat, crossing his arms. “Burning houses tend to collapse, dumbass. You got a roof tile right to the face.”

You rub your cheek and lean back against the wall adjacent to the cockpit. “Somehow that doesn’t shock me.”

The helicopter jolts a little bit and your head snaps over to the cockpit. From where you’re standing, you can see the co-pilot. He’s facing forward, but you can see the sparse freckles that dot his face and the tuft of brown hair that escapes the gel that slicks back the rest of his hair. The headset he’s wearing has a bright blue circle painted on the earcup – it must be a sign of his squad, or whatever pilots are a part of.

Your eyebrows furrow. He seems familiar, somehow. But not like how Keegan was familiar, and not like Merrick, Hesh, Logan, or Elias. He’s… you don’t know how to describe it.

The helicopter jolts again, and a hanging carabiner knocks the back of your head. Keegan huffs out a laugh when you whimper a small “ow.”

The co-pilot looks over his shoulder and back at you. You meet his soft, brown eyes. 

“Officer?” He says softly, his hands still on the yoke of the helicopter.

“Try Sergeant,” Keegan corrects. 

He glances at Keegan, then back to you, his eyebrows furrowing. His lips start to form a word, but – 

-> CH. 13: THE SMALLEST CHURCH IN SAINT-SAËNS

synopsis: come to the church.

word count: 1.2k

ships: don’t listen to them.

notes: you’re with us now. we’ll take care of you.

ToFS taglist: just come to the church. please.

TALES OF FALSE SERENITY MASTERLIST

You hear waves crash on the coast before you’re even fully aware that you’re on a beach. A church stands before you, sea-worn and rotted. A banner, yellowed with age, hangs above the entrance, reading: Holy Church of the Amnesiac (formerly the Dolorian Church of Humanity). 

You walk up the stairs to the entrance, the rotted wood barely holding your weight. When you reach the door, you raise your fist and knock. 

A few moments later, someone answers the door. The person who answers is covered head-to-toe in police riot armor with a duster jacket on top. Their headgear resembles a reinforced gasmask with dark green lenses, and the words FORGIVE ME MAMA are messily carved into their helmet.

They look you over, then take your hand. 

You don’t know why, but you follow them inside. The inside is somewhat dilapidated, but still nice. The pews have been pushed aside to create a common space and the floor is littered with rugs and blankets and a few sparse pillows. People are scattered about, laying on the pews or sitting on the floor. 

A few of them perk up at the sight of you, but the person corrals you to the front of the church, where a figure is sitting. Their silhouette is stark against the light shining through the stained glass window behind them, which depicts a woman holding up two fingers with her right hand and cupping a breast with the other. The windows that would have been her lungs are punched out, leaving sunlight shining through.

“Come, friend.” They wave you over. “Sit with me.”

You look at the person who escorted you to the front of the church, and they nod, then turn away and leave you.

You ease down and sit with the person, tucking a leg under you. You look over at them – they’re dressed in all black, a cloth mask covering the bottom half of their face and their clothes covering the rest of their body. Their knee-length jacket flutters in the slight wind of the smashed-through windows.

“What is…” You gesture around. “This? This church.”

“This is the Church of the Amnesiac,” they say. “And I am the Hunter of Vilebloods. You need not tell me your name – I have been awaiting your arrival, as has the rest of the church.”

“Who are you?” You ask. “I mean, I know your name, but… what is the purpose of this church? Because from what I can tell, it’s not worship.”

The Hunter takes a breath and sighs. “We do not know. We are simply wanderers that have found our way here. This is not our home. We are all… bereft of memory. Something has cursed us, and I know that you have happened upon this curse, too.”

“What do you mean?” You ask. “I – I have memories.”

“Think back.” The Hunter looks into your eyes. “Think back to when you were but a child. Can you?”

“Of course I can,” you say. 

“Then tell me,” the Hunter says. “Recount your first memory.”

You look away and think back. “I… visited the Exhibit of National Economy Achievements when I was a child. I must have been… five, or six. There were machines there, both modern and vintage. It was a beautiful place that showcased the highest of Soviet achievements.”

The Hunter hums in response. “Your next memory?”

“When my father gave me a Makarov pistol,” you say. “He gifted it to me when I was ten years old. He never let me fire it, but it was still important to me. I had a hell of a time getting it over to the States when I immigrated.”

The Hunter tilts their head. “I… do not quite know what a Makarov pistol is, or where the States are, but please. Continue.”

“And then, my next memory is… when I was sixteen.” Your eyebrows furrow as you remember. “There was an accident, and I lost both of my legs. Luckily, I was able to be quickly fitted with prosthetics that mixed existing technology with neuropolymer. I was able to move my legs, but unable to really… feel them.” You sigh. “Now I have different ones, as I wasn’t done growing at sixteen. That, and the technology has improved.”

The Hunter shifts how they’re sitting so that they’re closer. “That is your next memory? There is… nothing in between?”

“N… no?” You say, unsure. “Is there supposed to be?”

“Typically, yes,” the Hunter says. “There is a menagerie of memories for one to look back on. Family, friends, parties and religion… but are you admitting that there is nothing?”

“Well, it…” You think for a moment, then admit in a small voice, “Yeah. I don’t remember anything until I emigrated from Chelomey.”

You feel something push against your leg – something solid and furry. You look over and see an orange cat with a little backpack rubbing against your leg, then sniffing at your shoes. He looks up at you and meows softly, as if noticing your sudden spike in stress.

“Hello,” you say softly. You reach out a hand and rub your fingers together, making a soft sound. The cat sniffs at your fingers before pushing his face against your hand, purrs starting to rumble in his tiny kitty chest.

“Who is this?” You ask, starting to gently scratch at the cat. 

“That is Stray,” the Hunter says. “He does not have memories, just like the rest of us.”

“But I do have memories,” you insist. 

“I apologize. I misspoke. He has… gaps in memory, just like the rest of us.” The Hunter looks over your shoulder and around the church. “Just like the Courier, the Tarnished, and everyone else here.”

You sigh, looking at the Hunter. “So what happens now? I died, so… is this all the afterlife has to offer? The Holy Church of the Amnesiac and a cat?”

The Hunter returns their eyes to you. “Oh, you did not die. You simply just… left your body behind.”

“What?” You snap, and Stray bolts. “What do you mean?”

“Did you really think that this is all dying has to offer?” The Hunter asks. “A church and a cat and a few sad wanderers?”

“I…” You trail off. “Maybe! The philosophy I read about isn’t about death and what comes after. It’s the philosophy of man and his nature.”

“Man and his nature,” the Hunter echoes. “What a fickle thing one’s nature is. And I can see your very nature being unraveled before me in this very moment.”

“I don’t…” You groan and bring a hand to your forehead. There’s a sinking feeling in your stomach. “I don’t know what to make of this. This is all just – it’s too much.”

“You will emerge victorious. And if not, you will return to the church, and we will send you on your way again,” the Hunter says. 

They reach out and draw you closer, holding you against their side with an arm around your shoulder. They lean down and whisper in your ear, “It has been an honor, but we really must say good-bye. Now go, cleanse the tarnished streets of your homeworld. And may the good blood guide your way.”

-> CH. 13: WAKE UP & SMELL THE ASHES

synopsis: you wake up and kamski explains everything.

word count: 1.7k

ships: Connor/Reader, Hank Anderson & Reader

notes: the long wait is over!!!! the research essay has been slain and i have time to write again :)

HoFS taglist: @catladyhere , @foggy0trees0 , @princessofenkanomiya , @n30n-f43 , @igna4400 (if you'd like to be added to the taglist, just ask!)

HEAD OF FALSE SECURITY MASTERLIST

“Officer?” A soft, melodic voice calls. “Officer, can you hear me?”

You groan and turn on your side, away from the light that’s burning into your eyelids. “Huh…?”

“Officer, you need to wake up,” the voice continues. 

You open your eyes slowly and look up, only to lock eyes with… Chloe. What is Chloe doing here?

“You’re awake.” Chloe smiles and cups your jaw. “I will alert Mister Kamski right away.”

She looks away as her LED flickers, as do her eyes. After a moment, she looks back down at you and takes her hand away. You lay on your back, close your eyes, and wait.

A few minutes later, Kamski enters the room. You sit up, then immediately regret it when a stabbing pain shoots through your head. 

You screw your eyes shut and cover your eyes with a hand. You grind out, “Kamski, what the fuck am I doing here?”

“Lay back down,” Kamski says. You feel Chloe put a hand on your shoulder, and she guides you back down. The pain subsides enough for you to open your eyes again. 

Kamski takes a seat by your bedside and leans forward, his elbows on his knees. You look over. 

“Again, what the fuck am I doing here?” You say. “I… I died. I remember dying.”

“You did,” Kamski says, as if it was a completely normal thing to say. 

“Then how the hell am I alive?” You hiss. 

Kamski leans back in the chair and crosses his leg over his knee. “Do you remember your childhood?”

“Snippets,” you snap. “I just had this conversation. Now tell me how I’m alive after being shot in the goddamn head!”

“It’s simple,” Kamski says. (It’s not.) “You were never alive to begin with.”

You shoot up from the bed. “Чего?!” Again, Chloe pushes you back down.

“You know philosophy. Do you know Chariton Zakharov?” Kamski says, not pausing to give you a chance to answer. “Of course you do. You’ve read The Life, Death, Neuropolymer-Induced Transformation, and Secondary Death of Chariton Radeonovich Zakharov. In one of his letters, he wrote, ‘The radiance of pure reason, and it alone, can illuminate the path of humanity. Because a human being is not a body. It’s a way of thinking.’ I wanted to prove that.”

“I don’t really care to talk about philosophy right now!” You snap. 

Kamski holds up a hand. “Just wait. The sooner you understand this, the sooner you’ll get to see that android. What was its name again? Connor?”

“Connor!” You echo. “He’s here?! Take me to him – now!”

“Listen to me first,” he says. You grit your teeth and do your best to settle as he continues. “I wanted to create something that no one had created before. Obviously, I already did this with androids. But I wanted to go further.”

You nod, telling him to continue. You really want to get this over with. 

“So I thought, what about an android that thinks of itself as a human?” Kamski lets out a scoff-laugh. “Ridiculous, right?”

“If it’s ridiculous, I have no doubt that you probably did it,” you say. “Where is this android-human? Show me it so I can go.”

Kamski reaches under the chair and pulls out a mirror, then hands it to you. You take it and look at it. Sure enough, it’s a reflection of yourself, looking just as confused as you feel. 

“I don’t… understand,” you say, looking up at Kamski.

He taps the surface of the mirror. “You’re looking at it.”

You look at the mirror again. There’s nothing human-looking behind you – just a reflection of yourself in bed.

Kamski leans closer and whispers, “It’s you, Officer.”

“What an absurd idea.” You look at him. “Surely you’re joking, yes?”

“I’m not.” He leans back in his chair. “You’re the first android that was fully tricked into thinking that it’s human. You’ve been living this delusion for eleven years, ever since you thought you emigrated from Chelomey.”

“Again, this is idiotic!” You snap. 

“You only remember core components of your childhood,” Kamski says. “The Exhibit of National Economy Achievements. Your pistol. The accident.”

“I…” You sigh. “Yes, but –”

“Your parents didn’t traumatize you,” he says, tilting his head down and looking at you through his eyelashes. “That was what you were gonna say, right? That people with childhood trauma have gaps in memory and don’t remember a lot of their childhood.”

The words you had prepared die on your tongue. You look away. “Then who am I? Tell me, if you know so much about me.”

“Do you want me to tell you the truth?” He asks. “Or to recount the lie you’re used to living?”

“The truth,” you say before you can change your mind.

“There was a baby born in Chelomey with the same name as yours. Same birthday, same birth year. It was stillborn – didn’t even have a chance to take its first breath,” Kamski says. “That was where I got your birth name and birthday. Tensions between America and the USSR were already tense back then, so it was easy to fake documents. Your birth certificate, your passport, affidavits of income and support, your permanent residency card. You won the Green Card Lottery during a low-emigration year. You thought you got lucky, but you didn’t. I fabricated everything.”

There’s a sinking, swirling feeling in your stomach. You don’t really… know what to feel. You feel numb, somehow? But also like you’re ready to explode – to ask Kamski what the fuck he’s going on about, to tell him that he sounds like a raving lunatic, to tell him that you don’t believe a word he says. 

And yet… you do. It… it makes sense, somehow. Why would America let a nondescript Soviet such as yourself in? And into cybersecurity, no less.

“It’s obvious until it isn’t, isn’t it?” Kamski says. 

“M… my legs,” you say. “Why did you take my legs?”

“You needed to have some excuse for how you felt,” he says. “You didn’t have aches in them, nor did you experience any real pain. Right?”

“Yes,” you say. “Just phantom pain. But…” You sigh. “How am I able to feel? Not touch, but emotions. I thought correctly-functioning androids weren’t supposed to feel emotions.”

Kamski furrows his eyebrows. “You never did find a ‘patient zero’ for deviancy, did you?”

“No,” you say. “All we know is that it started in Detroit, and spread… across the country…”

A horrible feeling overcomes you. You were patient zero, weren’t you? You were the first to break your programming, to feel emotion and to feel pain – even if it was only imagined. And you probably infected Connor, too, didn’t you? You are the reason for his pain and suffering and all the turmoil he’s going through. You’re the root cause for the pain and suffering and turmoil everyone’s going through. 

“You are the free radical. The outlier,” Kamski verbalizes your thoughts. “You were the spark of chaos that was required to start the revolution.”

“I didn’t want to start the revolution,” you say. Your voice is softer and more shaky than you’d like it to be. There’s a burning in the back of your throat. “I just… I just wanted to solve the case that was assigned to me.”

“But you did.” Kamski stands, then starts walking towards the exit, as does Chloe. “You are the deviant android that infected others. The others you infected started a revolution. There are no two ways about it.”

“I want to go home,” you manage.

“Chloe,” he says. “Get Connor.”

There’s a door opening, then rushed footsteps as someone comes to your bedside. You look over. It’s Connor. His LED is stuck on red. 

“Officer?” He says. His soft, brown eyes search yours, lingering on the hot tears that swell at your waterline. Your bottom lip trembles. 

Connor immediately sweeps you into a hug – one unlike the one you’d shared back at the station. This one is firm, bordering on desperate as he clutches at the back of your shirt. He rests his forehead in the crook of your shoulder and lets out a shuddering exhale.

“Officer,” he says softly. “Officer, I’m so sorry.”

“What?” You say. “What do you have to be sorry for?”

“I didn’t do a good enough job of protecting you,” he says. “You got shot. I… I failed my mission. And I don’t have anyone to blame but myself.”

You exhale shakily and lean your head against Connor’s. His hair tickles the side of your nose. Tears slip from your eyes, and there’s a lump in your throat that makes it hard to talk. “Don’t be. We were… we were both being stupid.”

“The revolution is still going,” Connor says. “Markus has instructed me to wake up the thousands of androids housed at the CyberLife assembly plant. I want you to come with me.”

“What?” You pull back and meet his eyes. “But that would be a suicide mission.”

“They’ll let us in,” he says, his voice full of conviction. “I’m an RK800, and you’re an android. We can act like we’re there for an emergency meeting.”

“You knew?” You snap. “You knew all along?”

“No!” Connor says, clutching you tighter. “Chloe told me. It explained everything. I couldn’t believe it at first, but… the evidence was too convincing, and it aligned with everything I had already learned about you.”

“Right,” you say. “Right. Obviously. I’m just…” You furrow your eyebrows and screw your eyes shut. “Everything’s a lot right now. And it seems like everything bad that’s happening in the world is happening to me.”

He draws you back into the hug, rubbing up and down your back. You rest your head in the crook of his shoulder, and you’re overwhelmed by a smell you only now recognize as Connor’s – clean, leather, and a hint of something else.

After a few minutes, you sigh and squeeze around his middle. “Okay. I’m ready to go.”

“Are you sure?” He whispers.

“Yeah,” you mumble back. “Let’s go before I realize how stupid this is.”

[saintmurd0ck]

kiss and don't tell

masterlist

pairing: elektra natchios x f!reader + matt murdock and frank castle

summary: when frank and matt tap elektra's phone to figure out what she's up to, the last person they'd expect her to call is you

warnings: phone sex, matt and frank arguing like husbands, f!masturbation, elektra making everyone in her vicinity whimper, m!masturbation, exhibitionism

a/n: credits to my lovely @chvoswxtch for inspiration with elektra's phone background and @mikeymurdock for confirming darling matthew's birthday! this is my first time writing for elektra so be kind pls & HAPPY FUCKIN PRIDE !!!

“Thought you said she was always on that thing,” Frank grumbles, tapping on a flat-screen monitor displaying the layout of a phone lockscreen. He stares intently at the red supernova background, scrunitising on the halo of stars ringed around the edges of the phone. 

“She is,” Matt murmurs, furrowing his brows until they almost disappear beneath his glasses.

Frank sighs, leaning back in his chair, interlacing his hands behind his head. “It’s been four hours, Red. Why don’t ‘ya get some shut-eye, and I’ll stay up.” It wasn’t a question.

“Can’t be,” Matt breathes, mussing his hair. “It’s happening”–he pauses, fingers flitting over his watch–”tonight.” 

Disconcertion settles over Frank’s face as he wonders if this really is the way he’s spending his Friday night. His mouth quirks to the side. “First I’m gonna ask you how you know that, and second I wanna know exactly what we’re doing.”

“I know her, Frank. I just… know.”

“The fuck kinda answer’s that?” Frank glares, incredulous. “What, so you can listen to people breathing five blocks away, anticipate a bullet’s exact trajectory and now you can predict the future?”

Matt loosens his tie, looking more offended at the implication of being a fortune teller than at any other of Frank’s digs tonight. ”Of course not! S’just that… all of a sudden, she’s back in my life again. I wanna know what she’s doing, why she’s here, and what she has planned. You don’t know her like I do, Frank. Elektra isn’t good news.”

Frank yawns. “So? Ask her.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“Hmm.” 

A muscle feathers in Matt’s jaw, the tension more palpable than ever, especially with the time ticking idly by. He adjusts the earbuds connected to the laptop in front of him, straining for a single sound, or any hint of activity, but he picks up on nothing. 

They’ve got all her communications tapped, thanks to Micro and his–as Foggy so aptly put it–technological wizardry, but this inactivity is well beyond her arrhythmic patterns. Matt glides his fingertips over her activity logs; every record of data painstakingly collated by Micro throughout the last two weeks. If there’s one thing about Elektra, it’s that Matt could count on her being out on a Friday night. 

Matt’s aware of Frank’s narrowing eyes, in similar concentration on the monitor ahead. “You think she’s really gonna leave us hangin’?”

“No, no, it’s just– she’s smart, okay? She’s smart, but I don’t think she knows. She’d make it obvious otherwise.”

“I dunno Red,” Frank shrugs, “Baitin’ your ex like this? That’s ballsy. Even for you.”

Matt’s head whips to the side at the mention of that word, ears pricking at the sudden dilation of Frank’s pupils, and the acceleration of his heartbeat. He’s readying himself for a fight. “I’m not giving you the satisfaction of a response, Frank.”

Frank tsks. “Ah, but ‘ya just did.”

Click.

It’s the unmistakable noise of Elektra’s phone being unlocked.

2-1-1-0-8-7

Matt straightens up in his chair, pushing his earbuds further in. “Frank!” he hisses. “Screen!” 

“Ain’t that your birthday? October 21?” Frank smirks.

Reddening, Matt pushes the grating thought aside. He’d discuss her passcode later, when time wasn’t of the essence. “Keep an eye on that screen–”

“She’s calling someone,” Frank interjects. He squints at the display. “Who’s… ‘Darling’?”

“Darling?” Matt stumbles over his words as the dial tone rings a little too loudly in his ears. “I-I don’t know.” 

There’s a hint of amusement in Frank’s voice. “She ever call you that?” 

But Matt’s response comes out quick. Too quick. “No!”

Frank’s mouth curves into a smile. “S’what I thought.”

Matt goes to retort, but the purpose of this mission embeds itself in his mind. “We have full access to her calls, her internet history, all her devices…If she’s planning anything, it’s gonna be tonight.”

“Can’t believe I’m sayin’ this, but I trust ‘ya,” Frank nods. “We got her.”

“Alright. I’m taking these out.” Unceremoniously, Matt yanks the earbuds out of his ears, wincing as the dial tone plays over the loudspeakers wired to the entire setup. 

Frank cocks his ear towards the speaker in the corner, glancing at the call logs laid out on his lap. He counts softly to himself. “I’m seein’ this Darling a lot. At least twice a day.”

Before they can deliberate further, Elektra’s ambient voice fills the tiny space. “Hello, Darling.” She pauses, hinting a smile. “Ready for me?”

Frank arches an eyebrow. “The fuck?”

“What took you so long?”

Matt stands up so abruptly that his chair falls to the ground, dizzy with the clang of metal on concrete. “That’s–”

Out of all the people they’d unassumingly characterised as the mysterious Darling, they would never, not in a million years, expect to hear you. 

“Did you look at the package I had delivered to you?” Elektra purrs, honeyed in a way that prickles the hairs on the back of Matt’s neck. “I would’ve sent it myself, but duty calls.”

“Shit, Red,” Frank chuckles. “You’re in deep shit.”

“It’s beautiful,” you say, “and it fits perfectly. You know me so well, Ellie.”

“Ellie?!” Matt mouths. “What?”

“I knew it’d fit, Darling. Now be a good girl and spread those legs for me.”

In complete disregard of Matt choking on his own spit, Frank’s eyes fly open. “This part of your mission?”

“N-no. Definitely not. But–” Matt hesitates, swallowing dryly. “We need to keep listening. For all we know, our friend here could be a contact.”

“Fuckin’ perv.”

Feeling his temper rise, Matt takes a deep breath, willing his urge to fight dissipate. “S’there a way to turn the volume down?”

“Beats me,” Frank replies, nonchalant. “But small world, huh? Our friend–”Frank emphasises–“and your ex. A girl you’re into and a girl you used to be into.”

“I’m not into her.”

Frank snorts. “Yeah, you are.”

“Hmm,” Matt says, nodding, “so explain why your heart beats faster around her.”

There’s more than a hint of annoyance in Frank’s reply. “What?”

“I know you heard me correctly, Castle. You can’t hide shit from me.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Frank growls, kicking his chair away, sending the call logs scattering to the floor. 

“I’m so wet for you,” you gasp, unknowingly diffusing yet another fight, your breathy moans barely audible over the speakers. 

Frank stiffens, his fists unfurling from his sides. “Wait, wait, wait. Did I just–”

The tips of Matt’s ears go pink. 

“Mm,” Elektra muses. “I can still taste you, you know.”

“And how do I taste, Ellie?”

Elektra laughs, the sound crystalline. “Delicious.”

All of a sudden, it feels as if the labyrinthine, constricting nature of Micro’s lab seals off from the outside world, trapping both men and their paramours inside. 

“Please,” you whimper, every stuttered breath punctuating the words that come to mind. 

“Use your words, Darling. Please what?”

“Tell me how to touch myself.”

Frank shifts uncomfortably in his chair, wringing his hands as his eyes search for a distraction. “Feels like we’ve crossed a line, Red.”

“Since when have you ever cared about crossing lines?” Matt asks, scowling. “It’s pertinent. To…the mission.”

“Cut the shit. We’re not in Catholic school. You can just admit you’re horny.”

“Jesus, Frank! I’m not…”

“Of course,” Elektra hums, but the inflection in her voice indicates the kind of coyness that tells Matt she’s in complete control, physically present or not. 

Strained nostalgia sends him into overdrive, even more so as he contemplates just how she knows you. 

You, of all people, he knows, would be better off without someone like Elektra. 

Yet here you are. 

“Use one finger, Darling,” she continues, “and touch your clit for me. Up and down, just the way you like it.”

“Fuck,” you murmur, squirming as Elektra conducts your pleasure. “I want more.”

“Greedy, aren’t you? You’re lucky I feel generous tonight. Do you think you could handle two fingers?”

Matt exhales softly, licking his lips as he falters back to his seat. “Maybe you’re right.

“Yes,” you whisper. “Anything you ask for, Ellie. I can handle it.”

“Good girl. Let me hear how wet you are.”

Tipping his chin towards the ceiling, Matt reaches forward, fumbling for the cable connecting the speakers to their set up. “We’ll try again tomorr–”

“No,” Frank murmurs, holding his hand out reflexively.  He hesitates swatting Matt’s hand away from the wire, but he still follows through, however unconvincing the gesture seems to be. It’s true; his stance was different just moments ago, but he thinks about it carefully now. Maybe Matt’s right, and the outcome of the call will be more useful than not, but maybe, buried deep down amongst the feelings he harbours for you…

“Why?”

Saying nothing further, Frank turns his attention back to you, still conflicted about whether or not he should listen in.

Positioning the phone between your legs, you lean down to rub your clit, alternating between featherlight strokes and deep-pressure circles. As you begin to splinter with the thought of your impending orgasm, you dip two fingers into your pussy, hoping the mic picks up on the slickness pooling between your legs. 

Slowly, you stretch yourself out, picturing her there, watching you. Savouring you. “God, Ellie, it feels so–”

“Mm,” Elektra moans, pausing to praise you as she ruffles around her nightstand. “Can you guess what I’m doing?”

You slide a pillow under your hips, groaning as you rock against your fingers. “I’m picturing you and your legs spread, your red silk robe draped over the side of the bed, and you’re– fuck! Fuck, Ellie–”

“Cum for me, pretty girl.”

Crying out, you arch your back into your own touch, riding your hand until your body recovers just enough to go again. “I know you’re… you’re grabbing your favourite dildo, so you can fuck yourself while you fuck me.”

“Hm, has anyone told you how clever you are?” 

“You’re picturing it, aren’t you?” Matt asks, his face indiscernible. “The two of ‘em, together.”

Frank nods, pressing his lips together. “Yeah.”

“I guess we finally agree about something,” Matt says, chuckling.

“Yeah? And what’s that, exactly?”

“Do I really need to spell it out for you, Castle?”

Elektra huffs into the receiver, a faint buzzing emitting from her end of the call. “Put the phone down, Darling.”

“But–”

She continues, humoured and unfazed. “I can still hear you, don’t worry. I want you to use one finger on your clit, and hm… Three fingers in your pussy.” She poses her next words as a question. “Although, I know from the way you moaned my name that you added a third without asking?”

“Mm, Ellie–”

“I’ll let you off, just once.”

With every noise he picks up, Matt feels himself growing flustered. With all his tells laying out in the open–the flush in his cheeks, to his staggered breathing–he’s a dead giveaway. He pulls his tie over his head, unable to form a single coherent thought, the pretense of the mission long gone. Clearing his throat, Matt sits upright, draping his arm across his lap in an effort to conceal his growing erection. He opens his mouth to say something, anything, but one of Elektra’s moans punctuates his focus, catching him off guard. 

Warmth singes Matt’s spine as he notices Frank’s gaze sliding to his lap.

“Shit, Red,” Frank murmurs, shaking his head, “I’m just… gonna leave you be. Okay? Call out when you’re… done.” He stands up promptly, stalking to the bedrolls in the other room.

“Wait–” Matt calls out, wanting to communicate that being left alone to act on his impulses is the last thing he needs…

But Frank makes a good point. Especially when he’s off to do the same thing.

“You know I can hear you jerking off, right?!” Matt yells. 

Frank’s retort bounces off the walls. “Mind your own damn business, Red!” 

“Whatever,” Matt mutters. Grateful for the privacy, he takes a moment to unbuckle his belt, tuning out the clinking of the metal in favour of the conversation overhead.

“Will you do me a favour, Ellie?” you gasp, pumping your fingers in and out of you with increasing speed.

“That depends on what you want.”

Desperation limns your voice, but you’re past the point of caring. “I want to hear you fuck yourself. Let me hear you cum.”

There’s a shuffle of fabric on the other end of the phone as Elektra makes a small noise of approval. 

Matt doesn’t need to be told that she’s moved in favour of a better position. 

Cowgirl was always her favourite.

He groans, still fully clothed, bucking into his hand as he concentrates on Elektra’s rhythmic breathing and hisses of pleasure. He palms himself, knowing she’s riding her dildo the same way she’d ride him, knowing just from the way she sounds that she’s getting close.

But she’s not the object of his attention tonight.

Not when you’re right there, unbelievably tangible yet barely within his grasp.

He wants you, affirming the thought as he pushes his underwear down; just enough to wrap his fist around his cock. He doesn’t have time to take it slow, so this will have to do.

In the other room, the noises you make echo in Frank’s mind, playing and replaying until he’s forced to hold onto the concrete wall to maintain any semblance of sanity. He squeezes his eyes shut as he fucks his hand, picturing you all stretched out, taking him until he has no more left to give.  

As if they both hadn’t just spilled into their hands, unable to shake the relief that gave way into yearning, they remember that there is still the matter of the mission at hand.

“I… I think they’re finishing up,” Matt rasps, rolling his chair up to the laptop on the main desk. 

Frank replies with a curt nod, taking his place on Matt’s left. 

“Better?” Elektra exhales, satisfaction now evident in her tone. 

“Always.”

“Same time tomorrow, Darling?” she asks, cheerful. 

“Why don’t I come over to yours, Ellie? We can leave the curtains open again, give New York a little show.”

Elektra clicks her tongue. “Ah, like the one we put on tonight?” 

Frank shoots a sideways glance at Matt. 

She continues, more resolute than before. “I think an in-person show might be better. Don’t you think so, boys?” 

“No goddamn way,” he mouths.

Elektra pouts. “You both came awfully fast, didn’t you?”

Frank was right; they’d listened far too long. To something far too personal. 

Matt swears, searching for a way to end the call. 

“You really think I wouldn’t find out? Amateurs.”

Frank sighs as the dial tone rings in their ears, clapping Matt on the back. “Well, I think our cover’s blown.”

“Yeah, no shit.”

“Nice knowin’ you, Red. Nice knowin’ you.”

tags {x} for everyone who interacted with the original post/people who might like this 💗 @v4leoftears @devils-dares @chvoswxtch @itwasthereaminuteago @castlesnchurches @reborn-rekall @qu1etwolf @marvelswh0re @munsonownsmyass @murdock-and-the-sea @fxlsealarm @hailey-murdock

[redwinterroses]

(part one)

Oakville was, according to Tango, not the closest sign of civilization—which was fantastic, because by Jimmy’s reckoning it would have taken them weeks to cover what the train had in a few hours. Such was the wonder of modern technology.

“We’re only a few hours—maybe five? Maybe five hours out from Eureka.” Tango said, pulling a compass out of his pocket and checking their heading. “Not much of a place, but they’ve got a communicator station and horses. And whiskey.” He sighed. “What I wouldn’t give for a drink right now.”

A drink. Jimmy was suddenly aware of the cottony dryness of his mouth—and they’d barely been walking an hour. The sun was down, the night air was cool, but he was already thirsty.

“We, ah—” he half-tripped over a rock. “It’s really dark. Are we going to stop for the night?”

Tango waggled the compass at him, the silver rim catching the starlight. “Moonrise in less than an hour, it’ll be plenty light.” He slipped the compass back into his vest pocket and shrugged. “Anyway, it won’t stop the Greysides boys. They’ll bring lanterns though, we’ll see ‘em coming.”

Somehow, that wasn’t comforting. In the distance, a wolf howled, and Jimmy shivered.

“Normally,” he said, trying to shape his voice in a conversational tone. “Normally, this would be the point where I’d build a dirt hut and wait out the night.”

Tango flashed him a grin that Jimmy could hardly see. “What, you afraid of a little mob action?”

“Considering I’m being tracked, can’t risk my gun, and don’t have so much as an iron sword?” Jimmy grimaced, thinking wistfully of the two shulkers of gear in his carpetbag. Abandoned on the traincar, loot for pillagers. “Yeah, I’d say I’m not exactly looking forward to running into anything.”

Tango gave a little chuff of a laugh, and there was a rustling sound as he dug into the side pocket of his satchel. Because of course he had his satchel.

“There ya go, greenhorn,” he said, and held out a faintly-glowing diamond sword, hilt-first for Jimmy to take.

“What?” Reflexively, Jimmy reached for the weapon, his fingers closing around the hilt before he could consider it. Tango let go of the blade and shrugged, slinging his satchel back to rest on his hip. 

“Can’t have my traveling buddy unarmed,” he said. “Bad look, for an experienced trail boss like myself.”

There was something in the way he said “experienced,” some note of sarcastic self-mockery, that Jimmy did not care for.

“When you say experienced,” he said, holding the gifted sword low to the ground and letting the gleam of enchantment dimly light his way. “Exactly how many—”

“Hey, will you look at that?” Tango interrupted him. He pointed into the distance, and Jimmy squinted.

“Lights?” he ventured, though if that was torchlight it looked almost indistinguishable from yellow-tinted stars.

“That’ll be Eureka,” Tango said. “We’ll get there well before dawn, if we don’t run into too much trouble on the way.”

Jimmy opened his mouth to go back to the question about Tango’s trail experience, but stopped himself. No reason to push for the fellow’s backstory—it wasn’t as if he was eager to share his own.

“Right,” he said. “Right, then. What trouble is out here? Creepers? Zombies?”

“Not too many undead,” Tango said. He rested his hand on the hilt of his own sword as they walked. “Husks, mainly, with this heat, unless you go underground, which I don’t advise. But yeah—creepers are a big nuisance in these parts. Them and the endermen—frontier mob griefing is the worst. I keep tellin’ folks we need to lobby to get an anti-griefing patch out here, but—” he shrugged. “You know how frontier people are. Obsessed with keeping things vanilla. You want luxury mods, go back to spawn.”

Jimmy made a noncommittal sound. 

“I’m not talkin’ like, full-on spawn blacklists or anything,” Tango continued, tromping along. “People want that, they can do things the hard way. I’m just sayin’—”

“Look out!” Jimmy saw the creeper just before it rose up out of the scrub, its eyes flashing a warning.

Tango swore and leaped nearly a block in the air, dodging away from the creature. 

It settled back, glaring at them balefully from its nest of brush and grass, and Jimmy eyed it with wary caution.

“It’s smaller than the ones back home,” he said doubtfully.

“Ehhh—” Tango’s voice was tight with concern, and Jimmy looked away from the creeper to find the man staring over his shoulder. “That’s… that’s cuz that one’s a baby.”

Jimmy froze.

“The… there’s a big one behind me, isn’t there.” He swallowed, and a hint of burning gunpowder drifted past his nose.

Tango nodded. 

Something hissed lowly behind him. A warning—the only one he was likely to get. 

He bolted. Behind him, he heard Tango’s startled yelp, and then following feet. 

“Is it chasing us?” Jimmy shouted.

“Keep running!”

Jimmy chanced a look over his shoulder.

It was a bull creeper—easily twice as big as the feral creatures he was used to back spawnward, its pelt dun-colored and mottled with green to camouflage it in the scrubby grasses. It charged after them, its eyes flickering with anger, hissing as it ran.

“Holy—” Jimmy tripped, caught himself, and kept running, eyes back on the ground in front of him.

“Get to that rock pillar!” 

In front of them, one of the strange, spiky landforms jutted up out of the dark landscape. They were at the base of it in a moment, ducking around the back, momentarily out of the creeper’s line of sight.

“Climb!” Tango ordered. 

Scrabbling up the steep side of the rock, they managed to drag themselves onto the top just as the creeper reached the base. It hissed furiously, but they were out of its reach—and blast radius—and it could do nothing but pace below them, its stubby legs not made for climbing. Thank void.

Jimmy flopped on his back on the narrow ledge, feeling his gun digging into his hip and not caring enough to move. His chest heaved as he panted for air, and cold sweat trickled down his ribs.

He closed his eyes against the stars, hating everything in that moment. Hating the stupid night sky, hating the ridiculously huge creeper below—seriously, since when did they get that big?—and most of all: hating that once again he’d managed to pull someone else into his mess.

“Alright,” he managed, swallowing hard. “Alright—look. You gotta get out of here.”

Tango, crouched on the edge of the rock, making faces at the creeper as he caught his breath, waved a dismissive hand. “It’ll lose interest and wander off eventually,” he said.

Jimmy pushed himself up with one arm. “No, seriously,” he said. “I mean it. I’ll keep its attention—you sneak off the back and head for Eureka. I’ll be fine.”

“I’m not leaving you on a rock in the middle of the wasteland, pal,” Tango said, with a baffled laugh. “Like—I mean, no offense. But you’re greener than beans, and I’m at least half the reason you’re not on a train right now anyway.”

The creeper was snuffling around the base of the tower, and Jimmy had the sudden horrible notion that it might figure out how to climb. Or Tango would fall off the edge. Or Jimmy would trip and knock him right into the creeper’s paws.

He glanced down at the sword. “Sharpness?” he asked, squinting at the runes carved into the blade.

“Obviously.” Tango turned away from the creeper and gave him an evaluating look that was far too sharp for Jimmy’s liking. “It’s just a creeper, James, it’s not like it’s gonna—” his foot slipped on a pebble and he flailed his arms for balance.

In an instant, Jimmy shot forward and snatched at Tango’s arm, yanking him down toward the middle of the stone platform. Tango fell to one knee, yelping in surprise and pain. 

“Hey!” he exclaimed, yanking his arm out of Jimmy’s grasp. “What was that—”

Before Jimmy could second-guess himself, or even stop for half a heartbeat to consider why he actually cared—why he still cared, after all this time—he rolled off the rock toward the creeper.

He landed with a thud on its sloping back, and the thing gave a startled HISS that buzzed in his bones, the smell of sulfur flooding the air. With a shout, Jimmy gripped the sword in both hands and drove the blade into the back of the creeper’s head, exactly where the spine met the skull. The point of the sword—enchanted as it was—met little resistance, driving straight into the creature’s brain.

The hiss turned to a crackling gurgle, and the monster went limp underneath him.

Jimmy staggered away, catching himself against the base of the stone pillar, letting the sword fall to the ground with a flat clang. 

He heard scrabbling above him, and looked up to see Tango half-climbing, half-falling down the cliff. 

“What kind of damn heroics are you trying to pull?” the other man demanded, his derby knocked askew and a look of baffled fury on his face. “That thing would have detonated in your face! You’re lucky you—”

“Not lucky,” Jimmy cut him off, exhausted. 

“—didn’t hit… what?”

The adrenaline jitter in Jimmy’s arms—what, the third rush of the night? I’m going to sleep for a week—felt like it was going to shake his skin right off his bones. 

“Not lucky,” he repeated, spitting out the word.

He stared past Tango at the dead creeper. Already, it was starting to curl in on itself, desiccating in the wasteland heat. By tomorrow night, it would be nothing but a pile of super-flammable ash. 

Tango paused. “Not… not lucky?” He tilted back his derby and peered down at Jimmy's face, rant kicked off its rails. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Jimmy cursed every unlucky star he’d been born under, and double that for Sausage. For a long moment, he considered not answering. Nothing, nevermind, he could say. Let's just get to town.

In for a penny...

“I can’t die,” he said, meeting Tango’s eye. “And I don’t expect you to believe that, but the fact is: people around me die. Constantly. Never me, though.” 

A bitter laugh crept out of his throat. “If I hadn’t got that creeper…” He shook his head. “I dunno. It would have got you somehow. Or you’d have fallen and broken your neck. Or the pillagers would have appeared before we got down. Any number of things. You’re not safe until you’re away from me.”

Tango took this in. Jimmy could see him weighing the words—and probably dismissing them—but all he said was:

“Why?”

With a shrug, Jimmy pushed himself up, and retrieved the sword from the dirt. He wiped the point on a knob of scrub brush. “You saved my bacon on that train, I think,” he said. “That’s enough to tie us.”

He held out the sword to Tango. “Look—you go ahead. I’ll just… I dunno. Camp here for the night, I guess. You get far enough away, for long enough, the curse seems to… disengage. You’ll be fine.”

Tango didn’t take the sword. He looked at it, then looked at Jimmy.

“You know I don’t believe a word of this, right?” he said.

Jimmy’s heart sank, but he wasn’t surprised. “Yeah,” he said. “I figured.”

“Great.” Tango glanced over his shoulder toward where the lights of Eureka flickered in the distance. “Let’s… let’s just get you to town,” he said. “Get some water in you.”

Get a horse, Jimmy added internally. Hit the road. Put a thousand blocks between me and here.

“Right,” was all he said aloud. “Water.”

Tango kicked the creeper’s shriveling carcass and started toward Eureka, and Jimmy followed behind, still holding the enchanted sword. 

I should have just chanced the train.