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iamjack1 · 1 year

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Transform Your Yard with Ease: Why You Should Purchase Green Artificial Grass Today!

Introduction In this digital age, where convenience and aesthetics are paramount, transforming your yard into a lush and evergreen oasis has never been easier. One of the key ways to achieve this transformation is by purchasing green artificial grass. In this product review blog post, we will delve into the world of artificial grass and explore the numerous reasons why investing in it is a smart choice. Let's uncover the beauty and benefits of green artificial grass.

The Rise of Artificial Grass

The Evolution of Lawn Aesthetics Traditional lawns require extensive maintenance, including mowing, watering, and fertilizing. With the advent of artificial grass, homeowners now have a low-maintenance alternative that looks just as stunning as real grass, without the hassle. Environmental Benefits Green artificial grass is an eco-friendly choice. It conserves water, reduces the need for harmful pesticides and fertilizers, and minimizes the carbon footprint associated with lawn care.

The Advantages of Green Artificial Grass

Year-Round Greenery One of the most appealing aspects of artificial grass is its ability to stay green year-round, regardless of weather conditions. Say goodbye to brown patches and hello to a perpetually lush yard. Low Maintenance Artificial grass requires minimal upkeep. No more weekly mowing, no need to water, and forget about spending weekends on lawn maintenance. It's the ideal answer for people with hectic schedules. Durability Green artificial grass is designed to withstand heavy foot traffic, making it ideal for families, pet owners, and anyone who loves to host outdoor gatherings. It won't wear down or develop bald spots. Allergy-Friendly For those with grass allergies, artificial grass is a game-changer. You can enjoy your yard without the sneezing, itching, and watery eyes that natural grass often triggers.

Choosing the Right Green Artificial Grass

Varieties and Styles There's a wide range of artificial grass varieties and styles to choose from, catering to different preferences and needs. From short, neatly trimmed grass to longer, more natural-looking options, you can find the perfect fit for your yard. Quality Matters Investing in high-quality green artificial grass ensures longevity and a more realistic appearance. Look for products that come with warranties and are backed by reputable manufacturers.

Installation and Maintenance Tips

Professional Installation While some DIY enthusiasts may attempt to install artificial grass themselves, it's often best to hire professionals. They are qualified to guarantee a faultless installation that will last for many years. Cleaning and Maintenance Routine cleaning, such as removing leaves and debris, is all that's needed to keep your artificial grass looking pristine. Occasional brushing can also help maintain its upright position.

Conclusion

In conclusion, if you're looking to transform your yard with ease, purchasing green artificial grass is the way to go. It offers year-round greenery, low maintenance, durability, and allergy-friendliness. With a wide variety of styles available, you can select the perfect fit for your outdoor space. Make the smart choice today and enjoy a beautiful yard without the hassle of traditional lawn care.

FAQs

1. Is green artificial grass suitable for homes with pets? Yes, green artificial grass is pet-friendly and easy to clean, making it an excellent choice for households with furry friends. 2. Can I install artificial grass on any type of soil? Any sort of soil can be used to install artificial grass. However, it's essential to prepare the ground properly and ensure good drainage for optimal results. 3. How long does green artificial grass typically last? High-quality artificial grass can last anywhere from 15 to 25 years, depending on factors like usage and maintenance. 4. Does artificial grass fade in the sun? Most modern artificial grass products are UV-resistant, which means they are designed to withstand prolonged exposure to sunlight without fading. 5. Is there a difference between synthetic turf and green artificial grass? Synthetic turf is a broader term that encompasses various artificial grass products. Green artificial grass specifically refers to the type designed to mimic the look and feel of natural grass. Get Access Now: https://amzn.to/3FcwgtD Read the full article

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kirisaki-daichi-scenarios · 3 years

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a discussion of jabberwock with team interaction hcs + deeper nash analysis

for anon who asked "Can we get some headcanons for jabberwock members or like headcanons when they're together? (its okay if it was jason or nash only)" and made me realise it's about time i get these guys' personalities down

note before we start: cause i didn't know their names until i wrote this

zack is the bald one, allen is the one with a headband, nick is the other white guy apart from nash.

team hcs

nick gets bullied for being under 6ft, but not by jason

nah good old jason teases all of them for being short fucks, emphasising that they’re all 5ft tall in comparison to him

he 100% lifts things out of the others' reach and then laughs for ages after when they try get them

unfortunately though, they’re all used to this and now just ignore him. either that or nash stares at him so intensely jason actually repents and hands it back

zack’s another one with a very good glare, but he’s used it too often on jason and it’s since stopped working.

also jason gives me ‘straightens his back as much as possible when getting measured so he’ll measure in as 7ft’ vibes

oh and he thinks he could wrestle a gator and win. i’ve got no explanation for that except for the fact you can't tell me it's ooc.

allen’s very protective over his white headband - it’s his lucky item - but he’d never let anyone know that

he’s confident in his abilities like the rest of them, but there’s nothing wrong with wearing a headband just in case

(nash knows anyway)

they watch nba matches together and do not shut up once throughout the entire match - lots of jeering, booing each other if someone criticises a player they like, lots of “i could do that”, lots of “get your fucking hand out of my popcorn do you want me to punch you in the face” etc

they used to all live together, but nash has since moved out. he was sick and tired of trying to make people do chores, as the only one who kept their room clean.

yeah the others’ house looks like a heap of trash but also very much “where’s my toothbrush?” “it’s in the third coke can by the orange peel behind the sink” *silence* “yeah thanks” *a minute later* “who the fuck has been using my toothbrush”

they’re all “bro your dribbling sucks why are you on this team loser” to one another, but also very protective (aka arrogant for one another) if anyone else Dared to criticise one of their teammates

then again, what kind of person would criticise jabberwock

half of the time he spends with jabberwock, nash is a Single Mother TM trying to get a bunch of man children to behave; the other half of the time, he's just as bad as the rest of them

i talk about this a lot but i get the feeling nash is an exceptionally hard worker, but at least he gets to let his hair down around his teammates sometimes

nash is also the only person jason thought was truly ‘strong’ at first sight

and nash is also the only person who can beat jason in a fight, and also the only person who can get nash to train, and also the only person who can.. [etc. you see my point].

(n.b jason calls himself the ‘almighty me’, nash says that ‘even god can’t beat me’. point made.)

you know how jason silver’s motto is “I have never thought”

imagine him proudly stating that, before zack adds with a straight face, “yeah cause nash does it for you.”

in short, the team would fall apart without nash.

although the team’s communication and coordination is very fine tuned, nash is the guy who keeps everything in order off the court to prevent what is essentially a team of aces ('main characters', if you will) from falling apart

they hang out together a lot, but do all have other friend groups that do not overlap

team bbqs

unofficial rule not to criticise anchovies on pizza because the one time nick did, nash snapped

however pineapple on pizza is fair game, even though zack quite likes it

more than once, jason has brought a girl home and nick has stolen her attention away with effortless trick shots, funky ball manoeuvring etc

more than once nick has had to trek to nash’s place (with a black eye) at midnight to have somewhere to sleep

do you see a correlation?

oh and everyone in the team has been walked in on by nash when they were naked with some girl

nash has absolutely no shame

he apologises to the girl with a charming albeit insincere tone, and then remains standing in front of the bed/couch until his teammate does what he expected of them

usually it involves not having come to practice

allen learnt a few (emphasis on ‘few’) words of japanese before they travelled to japan and was disappointed that he never got to use them

that said, one of those words was hentai

and now a quick analysis of some panels

a) so there's at least one player who wasn't underestimating vorpal swords. if i were to overanalyse, i'd add that nick's wearing a hoodie (possibly athletic wear) whilst nash has a 'fancy' shirt on; perhaps nick wasn't expecting them to be going to host clubs instead of chilling/training?

b) i know what you're thinking: "how can you say nash is a hard worker when he didn't want to practice for the match". i reckon he was still pretty high on the complete and utter success of their previous match, that plus being around girls, encouraged him to have a more 'jason-y' personality. (either that or fujimaki didn't want to add too much depth/realism into nash's character bc he's unequivocally the villain, right? and obviously this helps with the plot and the jabberwock bad geniuses gom good geniuses rhetoric.)

earlier, i mentioned how nash is the only one that could keep the team together, and is thus the undeniable head of the team; here's a clear example. you can see both jason and zack have no interest in continuing - if anything, there's disgust in their faces, kinda just saying "we spat on all of japan, now we can go home". whereas nash won't allow for the slightest of possibilities that there might exist a team stronger than them, and hence agrees to the match. the key thing here is that the others do as he says without too much fuss.

another thing to note is nash's reference to harakiri. now what can we make of that, alongside his proficiency in japanese, in relation to his character? the way i see it, he's either a weeb or possibly has some japanese lineage. (you could spin that even further and say his mother was japanese, taught him the language, then abandoned him, and hence his almost excessive hatred/mockery of the japanese people.) (is that why he wanted to do another match in japan..?)

just a quick point. "thanks to him" - jason isn't so superior as to think that he could win this match effortlessly without nash's support. links pretty nicely with my earlier idea about how nash is the only person jason has always considered 100% strong.

yet another point about how nash is the strongest of the team in pretty much every way you can think of. you know how scary/powerful you have to be to shut jason up (after he's getting real pissed from being prevented from scoring?)

i personally think this is a pretty important panel, though i've never seen anyone mention it before. did nash grow up training in a professional basketball training situation, as opposed to growing up playing streetball like i suspect the others did? well, to answer that question, imma bring in another panel.

here we see visible rage on nick, zack and jason's faces - they can't accept their loss, which is fair enough. but i'd argue that nash's face seems to depict sadness more than it does anger like to rest of them, look at how downturned his mouth is - and he's looking away from the 'camera', as if hiding his shame.

when you combine that with what he says here, i have no doubt that this is someone who has experienced some proper lows in basketball - as would be expected from someone who's played 'properly'. he's possibly not even a prodigy like the rest of them - compare jason's motto with his. "i have never thought" versus "do not suppose opportunity will knock twice at your door".

there's various lines of thinking you could design with this - he might have been trained by alex (hence, himuro having heard of jabberwock, though he should have known of a team as popular of jabberwock regardless), he might have grown up with professional basketballer parents etc. but here's my own little theory:

nash received serious basketball training from early on - maybe because his parents were living vicariously through him, or maybe he always loved the sport and wanted to be no1. so there he was training away, but, as he grew older, it started getting all a bit too much.

he didn't want to dedicate his entire life to basketball. after all, his hobby is water sports and his speciality is boxing; that's a lot of different things to be keeping up with, whereas the pipeline for promising athletes demands people focus solely on basketball. as a result, nash become bitter: stopped attending practice regularly, got in trouble for trash talk of increasing severity, etc.

result was he was kicked out of the program.

only when he was no longer playing basketball again, did he realise how much he missed it. and hence he got into streetball, where he was tremendously successful as someone with so much training, 'elite skills', and the overly confident attitude to boot.

then, one fateful day, he met jason and the rest is history.

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the-enzyme · 2 years

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I gave my 3D artist sculpted resin cast head, based on Leon S. Kennedy from (OG) Resident Evil 4, “real” hair. It was always my desire to have him with actual fiber hair. I politely asked the artists if he would be willing to create a sculpt for me, without the sculpted hair, bald, without any hair. He said he would, so I happily jointed the group order, and even advertised the group order on a few places. Bringing a few more people on board. Then, once I had already paid and the head sculpt was more than halfway done, he said he wouldn’t make a head for me, without the sculpted hair. T___T;;;

I didn’t want to be an a-h0le, so I just agreed to keep the sculpt. There were so many other issues along the way, but I love (RE4) Leon so much, I was willing to let it all go. I wasn’t happy with how large the head was sculpted. What is the point of loving Japanese video game characters, and wanting (custom) figures based on them, if the proportions and likenesses won’t be like in the games (when you’re actually paing for a custom)? At least, as an obsessive fangirl, that’s how I feel about certain characters. It was always a dream of mine owning an accurate LSK RE4 figure (IMHO, HT’s one is pretty bad), that actually looked like he does in (the original) RE4. Of course, I was lucky to get GT Sephy, they get their proportions more or less, accurate, even if Sephy’s paint apps were night and day compared to the prototype’s. At least his head is tiny, and he is pretty tall.

I made a wig for a custom Leon I was working on many years ago (maybe a decade ago?). I was using a HT’s actor sculpt, whose name always escapes me. I made a terrible wig for that head, with handmade sewn wefts and a stretchy cap. I am not super thrilled about having to make tiny wigs; I loathe making sewn wefts more than anything. I can’t control the hair bulk as much as with glued wefts, the latter are so easy, anyone can literally make them. However, glued wigs are not my favorite, but because they are easy and I can kind of control the bulk, I prefer them now. Regardless, I decided to dissect that old wig I made for my first 1:6 custom Leon S. Kennedy figure, in order to give this figure hair.

I wasn’t sure it would look good, since this one does have sculpted hair and a huge notch on top of the head were the front bangs are meant to be glued in. That’s why I went with sacrificing a wig, I will no longer use, than to make something new just to go to waste. I feel like I am pretty happy with the outcome. I didn’t need to sand the sculpted hair, although it does add a bit of bulk, I feel like the shape of the hair now is a lot closer to Leon’s hair in the game. I jus wish the fiber wasn’t as strawberry blond, and was a bit more ash-blond (dirty-blond), like Leon’s hair appears to be in the OG RE4 game. I may or may not try again, if I find the right fiber, in the right color.

I am happy for now, I took so many repetitive photos, because this head makes DamToys RE2R Leon’s body look like a narrow shoulder HT body. It’s so huge, the neck looks super slim, as narrow as a person who’s not healthy or aging poorly. My fav... I have a very dark, dry, sarcastic sense of humor. I probably rub some people the wrong way, my favorite is self-deprecating humor. I would insult myself first, before ever attempting to do so to anyone else, and I would probably not even try -- I have zero energy left, as a forty-one (thousand) year old fart, I prefer preserving energy towards things I enjoy. I like to collect toys I find appealing, and some physical features are not appealing to me; as a short, bony old-person who doesn’t suffer from super thin neck (yet), I prefer wider necks on my “healthy” athletic looking male figures/dolls. That’s not going to be possible, with his head, unless I am willing to have him on a massively large body, I won’t find appealing for him. (:

I edited the shoulder joint in one of the photos. I wanted to do more, but I was lazy. I don’t mind them, but I also know that censorship when it comes to pieces of plastic on many of these places is strong. Real actual flesh of any kind or part, no problem. A slightly visible anything that might be suspicious on a plastic toy piece, that may or may not look human, huge no! DX

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maxwell-grant · 3 years

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Captain Fray: The Trash Superman

Look up in the sky! Is it a bird? A plane? No, it’s... an ugly, homeless bald man cackling evily while raining trash on the city with an army of sludge monsters, shortly before getting beaten up by a group of meddling kids. It’s just dumb old Captain Fray again getting foiled by Monica’s Gang, nevermind him. He does that every Tuesday.

Monica’s Gang are arguably the most iconic of all Brazilian comic book characters, having maintained popularity for 60 years and with unmatched worldwide recognition. They’ve had cartoons, a cinematic universe of films both cartoon and live-action, plays, a long-running manga spin-off that turned them into teenagers, crossovers everywhere ranging from The Big Two’s superheroes to Osamu Tezuka’s properties (as Monica’s creator Mauricio and Tezuka were acquaintances), at least one theme park, and much, much more. Even past Brazil’s borders, where they are a cultural institution on a scale matched only by Disney, these are some of the world’s most popular characters, starring in just about any kind of adventure imaginable and then some.

However, if you go into the world of Monica’s Gang, and look for a flying man with a chest logo, a cape and impossible superpowers, you’ll instead find their greatest arch-enemy: Captain Fray (actual name Capitão Feio, which translates to Captain Ugly), real name Feioso Araújo. Who will be happy to remind you time and time again of what a rotten, no-good scoundrel he is, even if he has to pick a fight with the Big Blue himself to prove it.

So let’s talk about perhaps the most iconic “caped superhero” of Brazilian comic books, even if he’s ultimately a long, long shot from being one.

Despite the long, worldwide spanning history of the superhero, the idea of the superhero as a cape-wearing uniformed superpowered do-gooder has remained a largely American concept, as different regions have their own unique icons. The titular 4 members of Monica’s Gang have on many occasions taken the role of superheroes, and they’ve built up a massive Rogues Gallery over decades, despite not looking like the usual idea of a superhero. Monica, Jimmy Five, Smudge and Maggy, for the most part, look and act like kids, with odd quirks.

To briefly describe the 4: Monica is the pudgy, bucktoothed ruler of the group as well as the neighborhood, being super strong and more than willing to hit people who mock her with her stuffed rabbit “Samson”. Jimmy Five has a speech impediment, and he constantly schemes to take Monica’s role as leader, best described at times as a junior Lex Luthor to Monica’s Superman. Maggy is Monica’s friend with an uncontrollable appetite, and the witty and perpetually dirty Smudge is Jimmy Five’s friend and accomplice in schemes. Smudge is defined by his complete and total refusal to take a bath or even come into contact with water under any circumstances, and some stories play up Smudge’s dirtyness to the point of superpower.

It’s Smudge in particular who’s gonna be relevant to this post, because the first time Captain Fray was introduced, he was introduced as Smudge’s good-natured and humorous uncle, a comic book addict surrounded by piles of dusty comics, particularly those of Smudge’s favorite superhero, Captain Pitoco, a sort of Superman/Buzz Lightyear analogue. Eventually, Smudge’s uncle is surrounded by dust, and out of it, he transforms “back” into a former alter-ego, Captain Fray, a megalomaniac supervillain horrified at just how clean the world is, and who decides to sully it as much as possible, flying around the city spreading dirt rays and even transforming the population into pollution-fanatics. Eventually he’s defeated and transformed back into normal, only thinking he had a weird dream.

Upon subsequent appearences, Fray would acquire things like sludge minions, underground lairs and ever increasing powers (like in the above sequence where he somehow destroys a rainbow and darkens the sky with a single gesture), although he would eventually gain a Kryptonite-esque weakness to water. Captain Fray would go on to become the most reocurring villain of Monica’s Gang for the next 40 years, as the former concept of him being Smudge’s uncle was dropped and he became instead the ruler of an underground race of sludge monsters created by him, who’d occasionally come on to the surface in order to engage in supervillain plots to take over the world and spread dirt and pollution everywhere, sometimes in stories with an environmental angle, and often when the story calls for superhero antics.

Fray’s got a very standard Grinch/Captain Hook cartoon villain personality, all cackles and snarls and shaking fists at the meddling kids who ruin his plans everytime, proud of being evil and rotten, but never too rotten to the point he betrays the kid-friendly nature of the stories he’s in, nor too rotten that he can’t do something nice for a change like allow his monsters to celebrate Christmas even if it ruins his bad guy image, or begrudingly do a nice thing for Smudge.

Although for the most part, the “mainline” comics have dropped the angle of Fray being Smudge’s uncle, the two having a particular dynamic has stayed consistent still. Sometimes, Smudge is portrayed as the only member of the Gang who’s got little to no problem with Fray, even welcoming the change of scenery he brings, although he will stick with his friends, as often he’s the only one who’s got no problem being hit by Fray’s dirt rays. While sometimes Fray singles out destroying Smudge so his claim as the dirtiest being in the universe can never be challenged, he is more often depicted as having a soft spot for Smudge, sometimes considering him a pupil or potential successor to inherit his powers, and plenty of times, Smudge has done just that, although inevitably it never sticks, partially because Fray gets jealous or misses his former life, and partially because Smudge gets bored of supervillainy and just wants to go play with his friends again.

The dynamic between Smudge and Fray has led to a lot of adventures between the two, and it’s something that’s been played up in the aforementioned manga spin-off, Monica Adventures. In it, the cast’s all been aged up to teenagers, and the adventures they get into respectively have taken much more of a shonen manga edge, much darker and weirder than anything the original kid comics could get away with, although not necessarily to it’s benefit, because I could not begin to describe just how much grimdark nonsense is in those, let’s just call it the Monica’s Gang equivalent of Jorge Joestar in terms of lunacy and leave it at that (although, to be clear, even the original “mainline” comics could get very, very weird themselves). Captain Fray has been a mainstay of said manga from the start, going through a series of redesigns, including one where he turns into a bootleg Sephiroth, and one where he tries rebranding himself into a suit-wearing gangster named “Black Dust”, which nobody really takes seriously.

It’s also granted Fray a backstory: As a kid, when he’d gone to the basement to read comics, his house was buried in a landslide. Afraid of death, he was met with a milipede claiming to serve “The Serpent” (the in-universe stand in for the devil, maybe, just bear with me here), claiming it would protec him so long as it returned the favor someday. He was afterwards transferred to an orphanage, teased by kids over his lack of hygiene and liking for superheroes and nicknamed “Captain Ugly” (again, his name, Fray is just the English translation), with rumors that his touch granted disease. After the orphanage closes, he’s adopted by a nurse and gains a step-brother in Smudge’s dad.

Years down the line, and Feioso’s managed to acquire a house and make a decent living. He spends a lot of time with his nephew Smudge, teaching him how to build toys out of garbage (a habit of Smudge in the strips) and fly kites and so on. Until one day, in an update of his original story, he’s cleaning his house packed with dusty comics, and a shelf falls atop of him. The millipede from his childhood appears to recollect the debt:

"Your mission is to pollude the Earth...rot it's soil...change it's atmosphere...darken the skies with smoke...so that the sun's rays may never again hit the surface of this planet!

"No! No, please! I-I don't want to hurt anyone!"

"You think you can refuse? You think you have a choice? Do you think you can escape your destiny? Evil does not tolerate weak servants. If you don't fill your end of the bargain, if you don't pay your debt...it will be transferred to the person you love most."

"Smudge? NO!! H-How do you know about my nephew?"

"We know of all that happens. Our eyes...are everywhere."

"Smudge has nothing to do with this. Leave him alone, please...I-I'll do anything you guys want!"

"So be it...Filthy powers will corrode your soul...This is the day of your rebirth! How would you like to be rebaptized?

"The nickname I was given at the orphanage...it's perfect! Captain Ugly strikes again!"

How “canon” the events of Monica Adventures are is a question best left unspoken, since it ultimately doesn’t change anything about the original strips. But regardless of what made Fray who he is, he would spend the following decades in many, many attempts to complete his mission and defeat Monica’s Gang, to be foiled and stopped time and time again by his nephew and his friends, little more than a dumb, cartoon villain there to be smacked again and again, too dumb to quit and too mean to stop. So he was, and so he will always be.

But something interesting’s happened recently with him. As part of the Graphic MSP initiative that’s allowed creators to reinvent the many, many characters of Monica’s Gang for stand-alone graphic novels, Captain Fray’s received one in the form of Capitão Feio: Identidade, which isn’t so much an origin story as it tells the story of a homeless man with no knowledge of his past or where he acquired the superpowers that force him to be on the constant run from society, and it tells the story of how said man eventually became the infamous supervillain, despite his many attempts to be a superhero.

The comic and it’s sequel, Tormenta, acted more of a proof of concept to test whether or not a serious reimagining of Captain Fray can work, and considering their reception and the newfound love that the Captain seems to have attained in recent years, I’d say they succedeed pretty damn well. He’s ostracized for his appearence, poverty, smell and bad manners, and there’s hardly anything he can do about it because his powers make him a toxic abomination by default. He spends portions of the book trying to create living beings with his powers, and once he succeeds in creating a Godzilla-esque monster to protect him from the authorities, he ends up having to put the monster down, before getting fed up with constant rejection and promptly announcing that, if he’s just gonna be known as an ugly monster by the people, even after he saves them, he’s gonna make it a point to be Captain Ugly Monster, the most rotten supervillain they’ve ever seen.

The comic constantly grants upon Frey iconography of several of the biggest icons of comic books, from Batman and Superman to AKIRA, playing up not just Frey’s association with comic books but also the fact that he's been mired in that aesthetic from day one. He wanted to be a hero, he wanted to be like Captain Pitoco, and regardless of continuity, all that he ends up as is becoming a gross caricature of a superhero. And still, Frey owns it. He owns his grossness, his rage, his bitterness at everything that he understands to be the opposite of himself, everything clean and good and decent, and he tries time and time again to tear it down, even if he ultimately can never get far enough to accomplish his goals, or lose all of his humanity in the process.

I’ve remarked once that, to many in some regions of South America, the “traditional” superhero does not hold much appeal, and most of the more popular protagonists and icons tend to be outlaws far away from caped antics. Which is why it’s particularly interesting that, not only is the most famous caped superman of Brazilian comic books a villain, but also that, perhaps unintentionally, Fray has undergone the kind of development that most reocurring cartoon villains never get, and one that seems almost poised to last. In a current zeitgest of villain protagonists, it’s successes and failures, I could very easily see Captain Fray becoming the star of a popular film or series, one that takes a look not just at his personality and role, but also at Brazilian culture’s relationship with superheroes and supervillains. Maybe Fray as an anti-hero, trying to make the best of the horrendous powers he’s burdened with, could work.

So long as it’s not revealed that he likes dirt because his mom got pushed off a cliff by cleaning products, I could see it working very well.

#character profiles #comic books #captain fray #capitão feio #turma da monica #mauricio de souza #brazilian superheroes #brazilian supervillains #superman #monica's gang

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ask-the-riders · 3 years

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Demon species that exist in this multiverse's version of Hell

As I stated before, we might not get to see all of these types (we might get to meet a mime soon, but other than that, I'm not sure yet), but I figured this might be neat to share anyway :P

Glitch: The umbrella term which usually includes Pure Glitches, Lens Flares, and Clickbaits

Pure Glitch: Typically humanoid, but can come in any shape or size. Can be identified by the effect they have on technology, causing every device around them to glitch, freeze up, and/or short out. The hardest type to catch or document or catch on video. Can also unintentionally cause electrical fires. They crave violence and chaos, appearing to thrive off of it, and they almost always appear mentally unstable. A common, infamous trait is also their short temper, which seems to go hand in hand with their unpredictable mood swings

Lens Flare: Also typically humanoid, but like Pure Glitches, they can vary in appearance. Are also easy to identify by the effect they have on any and all nearby technology, although unlike Pure Glitches, they don’t cause devices to short out, and they don’t cause electrical fires. When a Lens Flare demon is present, a device’s audio quality drops and the colors on the screen appear to shift between different colors, most notably red, blue, pink, yellow, and green. They still have an underlying craving for violence and chaos, but they usually appear more collected and stoic. They also have short tempers and may lash out from time to time, but they’re somewhat easier to predict. Known to be manipulative and cunning, and will do just about anything to get what they want, regardless of the risk

Clickbait: Humanoid, but noticeably smaller; The shortest on record was only about 1’3, while the tallest was about 3’9. Their skin tones come in a variety of colors, although the most common ones are blue, green, and pink. They can only exist in the cyber world, infecting pop-up ads and clickbait on websites. When an ad or scam they’ve taken over has been clicked on and/or downloaded, they then travel into the device and make it their new host. Once they’ve taken control of their new host body, they prefer to stay as long as possible. If their host is damaged, they’re capable of repairing it, but they’ll die within minutes if they’re pulled out of it and into the physical world. They don’t crave violence as much as other types of demons, and instead, preoccupy themselves with simply trying to survive, due to being so weak. Their favorite kind of host bodies seem to be robots and animatronics. If a device is suspected to have a Clickbait demon living inside it, check the files for anything suspicious and then proceed to open up the device. If one is present, it’ll fall out once the device is opened. You may choose to move it to a new device if you wish to keep it around, but otherwise, leave them be. If provoked, they have the ability to pull someone into the cyber world with them (but only if the ad or scam they took over had been clicked on first)

Clown: Can appear humanoid or more like something from a horror movie, depending on how many lives they’ve taken and/or how many souls they’ve consumed. Some subtypes would include standard Circus/Carnival Clowns, Jesters, Mimes, and Harlequins. As children, they feed on only candy and sweets, and they crave sugar, but as they mature, they develop a taste for blood and human flesh, and it becomes their biggest source of nutrients. They appear unusually flexible, as if they have no bones, and their skin sometimes appears as though it’s made of plastic. They’re great at contorting themselves and doing anything based around gymnastics, acrobatics, and aerial arts. If their attire doesn’t give away their subtype, note their primary territory type, since Circus/Carnival Clowns prefer areas with tents and wagons and Mimes prefer alleyways and streets, while Jesters and Harlequins seem to gravitate more toward castles and historic locations. A common trait they share is giggling and laughing, even in completely inappropriate situations. Something to note: they are completely capable of detaching and reattaching their limbs, so it’s not uncommon to see them detaching their own heads to perform odd and potentially disturbing acts and stunts

Incubus/Succubus: Most often appears humanoid. They’re similar to a vampire, except they prefer to feed off of sexual energy. If no sexual energy is available or they cannot gain access to it, they will resort to feeding off of human blood. Their primary targets are sleeping humans, the gender of which depends (at least partially) on the gender of the demon itself. ‘Incubus/incubi’ refers to males, who prey on sleeping women, while ‘succubus/succubi’ refers to females who prey on sleeping men. Because of the changing times, however, Incubi and Succubi have become interchangeable terms, and individual demons may refer to themselves as whatever they prefer. While their targets are commonly of the opposite gender and they're typically represented as being almost always heterosexual, this is not always the case. In some scenarios, they've also been documented selecting targets and mates that are of the same gender as themselves

Vampire: Mostly humanoid, depending on their age and how much blood they’ve consumed over the years. They feed exclusively on blood, although some prefer the blood of animals over that of humans. Cannot go into direct sunlight, and doing so will result in being burnt

Mara: Also known as a “Nightmare demon”. Mostly humanoid, but typically lack any distinguishing features. Usually appear as nothing more than the completely black silhouette of a person, although some have been documented to have white or silver eyes, which lack a pupil or iris. It’s believed that many appear to be feminine, and either young women or old hags, but some do carry the preference of presenting themselves as being male or androgynous, as well. It is similar to Incubi/Succubi, but rather than feeding on sexual energy, it sits on the chest of a sleeping victim and brings nightmares. In some cases, they’re also known to suffocate their sleeping victim, as well as bring night terrors and sleep paralysis. After Pure Glitches, they’re the second hardest type of demon to catch on video or in photos, as their bodies tend to blend in with the surrounding shadows. They cannot exist in the light, and require some level of darkness to move about. Victims report feeling a heavy weight starting at their feet that very gradually spreads up their body and settles on their chest, before they became completely paralyzed. They retained the ability to see and hear, but along with their movement, they also lost the ability to speak, as well. They also report having vivid hallucinations and feeling a dark presence in the room with them

Imp: Can be humanoid, but like with other demon species, they can come in a variety of different shapes and sizes. They’re smaller than most demons, often ranging from 3’5 to 4’5, and they’re known for their short stature and red skin. Their eyes often appear yellow, and while males have angular horns that have black and white stripes around them, females have smaller horns that are mostly black with thin white stripes. They also have tails, the tips of which can either be shaped as an arrow or as a heart. They have a love for violence, and many base their careers on it. If their horns are curved and less angular, that would be the demon equivalent of balding

Inanimate: Almost always humanoid, but varies in appearance. They usually come in subtypes, such as mannequins, scarecrows, statues, dolls, animatronics, puppets, wax figures, dummies, etc. While they can move around normally in hell, they can only move if no one is looking, when they go to the human world. Like most demons, they enjoy scaring people, and they seem to prefer targeting anyone with automatonophobia (the fear of human-like figures)

Ink: Sometimes humanoid, sometimes not. They frequently resemble either a mostly humanoid figure or the upper half of a person (consisting of the head and neck, arms, chest, and upper half of the torso). They’re almost always entirely black and covered in sludge, and they lack any real distinguishing features, such as a face or clothing. It’s very rare to see any that appear in any other color or without the sludge. They’re supposedly made entirely of ink, hence their name. They’ve been seen coming out of ink puddles and “melting” back into them, and it’s thought that they use ink puddles to move from place to place. If one is strong enough, it may possess the ability to capture humans with its sludge, the substance becoming thicker and harder to pull oneself out of. If an Ink demon has built up enough strength and intelligence, they may even seek to convert humans into their personal servants. This could be achieved by first capturing and weakening a human, and then bleeding them out and replacing their blood with sludge. After the human completely heals and regains consciousness, they’re subjected to brainwashing and various forms of abuse, and this will continue until their spirit has been entirely broken and they’ve lost hope of escaping. Only once they lose hope and become entirely compliant, can the transformation into a servant be completed

Hellhound: There are two types that have been documented: Anthropomorphic and Feral. Anthropomorphic hellhounds typically have traits that are based off of canines (like dogs, wolves, coyotes, foxes, jackals, etc.) and walk upright on two legs like a human, while Feral hellhounds more closely resemble normal canines

Fallen Angels: Refers to angels who committed a crime and were cast down to hell from heaven. A prime example of this is Lucifer, who was once God’s favorite, and also known as the most beautiful angel in heaven

Sinner: Refers to any demon who was once human. When one becomes a demon, they usually develop the traits of whatever ties in with their personality, the kind of life that they lived, or their cause of death. They start off humanoid, but their appearance changes over time, depending on the number of lives they’ve taken and the number of people/creatures they’ve consumed. It’s not uncommon for them to cannibalize other demons. In death, they may choose to keep their human name or go by something new. Sinner demons may become any of the previously listed types, excluding imps, hellhounds, incubi/succubi, and inanimates

Hellborn: Refers to any demon who was born in hell, such as imps, hellhounds, incubi/succubi, and inanimates. While Sinner demons may occasionally grow to resemble any of these types, there will always be a way to distinguish them and spot the fakes

Hellborn demons don’t always fall into one specific category or type, much like Sinner demons

Hybrid demon species do exist, but are not common and are typically outcasted from the rest of society. Usually, they like to stick to their own general races, such as any glitch variant pairing with another (‘glitch’ is more of an umbrella term that refers to Pure Glitches, Lens Flares, and Clickbaits) while any clown variants (meaning standard Circus/Carnival Clowns, Jesters, Mimes, and Harlequins) may pair off with another clown variant. The different races do sometimes reproduce and create offspring with humans, but the half human-half demon mixes are often outcasted, since most others feel like they don’t belong in hell, but they don’t belong in the human world, either

Harlequins and Incubi/Succubi are known to be more promiscuous in nature, so hybrids that are part clown or incubi/succubi are fairly common

Devils and demons are extremely similar, though devils are almost always stronger, more violent, and more aggressive

It’s rare for demons to mate for life, but the bonded pairs that do usually end up moving out of the city. They relocate and choose to settle down somewhere away from most other demons, where they’re free to start a relatively peaceful life together

Because clown type demons are so similar, it’s common for two variants of one type to produce offspring that is another (ex: two standard Circus/Carnival Clowns may produce offspring that is a mime, or two Mimes may produce offspring that is a Jester)

If a Glitch variant reproduces with another Glitch variant, there’s a 50/50 chance that the offspring would be one type or the other (ex: a Pure Glitch and a Lens Flare may produce offspring that is either a Pure Glitch or a Lens Flare)

If two Sinner demons that don’t fall into any specific type produce offspring, the offspring would likely be another demon that shares their traits, similar to the outcomes whenever humans reproduce. The only thing to note would be that while Sinner demons aren’t native to hell, any children they have would technically be Hellborns

Hellhounds, Inks, and Imps are at the bottom of the food chain, so to speak. Maras, Vampires, and Incubi/Succubi are only slightly above them. Fallen Angels and Devils are at the very top, with Glitches right beneath them. Beneath Glitches would be Clowns, and then beneath Clowns would be Inanimates

From the bottom of the societal ladder to the top, the order would be: Hellhounds, Inks, Imps, Incubi/Succubi, Vampires, Maras, Inanimates, Clowns, Glitches, Devils, and Fallen Angels

Hellborn demons will almost always be stronger than Sinner demons. Sinners do have the potential to become stronger though, if the right conditions are met

There are other subspecies that exist as well, like Spiders, Moths, Cyclops, Snakes, Technology, Plants, etc.

#rambles #info #riderverse #riderverse au #undertale #undertale au #four horsemen of the apocalypse #riders of the apocalypse

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thatsamericano · 3 years

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My Missing Puzzle Piece

Pairings/Characters: America/Romano, with background FrUK and FACE Family and mentioned Cankraine. Human AU.

Ratings/Warnings: Teen, for cursing. No warnings.

Word Count: 1564

Summary: According to the words written on his arm, Alfred will initially be more of a nuisance than a hero to his soulmate, but he’s eager to meet them regardless.

A/N: Written for @aphrarepairweek2021, Day 5 “soulmate.” Title taken from “Teenage Dream” by Katy Perry.

Alfred woke up on the morning of his sixteenth birthday more excited than he’d ever been. He was getting closer to adulthood, and like all teenagers on their sixteenth birthday, he would finally be able to read the first words his soulmate would ever say to him on his arm.

He ran into the bathroom, turned on the light and read what his soulmate had to say to him. Or to be more accurate, he tried to read it. At least it was in the same alphabet he was used to, unlike Mattie, who had woken up three days ago with a Cyrillic script on his arm. But it obviously wasn’t English.

Che cazzo di problema hai?! Mi hai fatto inciampare, stupido stronzo!

From what he could tell, his soulmate was having some kind of problem with a stupid person. That wasn’t an ideal situation in which to meet the fated love of your life, but Alfred, optimistic as always, spun it in a positive direction. He smiled as he thought of rescuing his soulmate from whatever stupid person was bothering them, showing off how cool and heroic he was, and impressing them so much that they fainted right into his arms, just like Superman had met Lois Lane. It would be totally epic!

His hopes for a heroic, comic book worthy meeting were dashed a few days later. On the morning of his birthday, Alfred explained his soulmate tattoo to his curious family, and his Papa Francis was able to determine that he probably had Italian on his arm. The following week, their other dad, Arthur, brought Alfred and his brother to a language learning center in order to have their tattoos assessed by the specialists working there. After knowing the language written on their arms, they would begin receiving tutoring in their soulmate’s language.

The expert in Slavic languages was able to determine that Matthew had Ukrainian on his arm. His soulmate had lost their cat and was asking Matthew for help. Matthew’s new language tutor took him into another room for his first lesson, and then it was Alfred’s turn to be assessed. When the Italian instructor, a balding, middle-aged man who introduced himself as Mr. Moretti, read what was on Alfred’s arm, he started chuckling.

“What’s so bloody funny?”

Mr. Moretti addressed Alfred rather than his father. “Your soulmate is annoyed with you. And they weren’t exactly polite about it.” He explained what the tattoo said. The “stupid person” (asshole, really) they were having a problem with was Alfred, who had apparently made them fall over, and his soulmate was wondering what the fuck was wrong with them.

“Oh.” Alfred frowned down at the desk he was sitting at. “When I saw that they had a problem, I was kind of hoping I could be their hero. Does this mean my soulmate’s gonna hate me forever?”

Mr. Moretti smiled sympathetically at him. “That’s generally not how it works. But helping you learn as much Italian as you can before you meet your soulmate will probably go a long way to smoothing things over.”

After that, Alfred said goodbye to his dad, who promised to pick him up later, and started his first lesson in Italian. He learned how to say “I’m sorry,” and how to tell his soulmate what his name was.

Nearly two years later, Alfred had graduated high school without meeting his soulmate or bumping into any other Italians. Matthew hadn’t met any Ukrainians looking for their missing cat either, so instead of a more traditional graduation present, Alfred and Matthew asked to go on a trip to the places where they would be more likely to meet their soulmates. First, they would visit Italy for a couple weeks, and then they would go to Ukraine so Mattie could get a chance to meet his soulmate.

After flying into Naples, Alfred was eager to immediately go out and explore the city on the off chance that he might meet his soulmate. The rest of his family, however, was exhausted by the long flight and insisted on checking into the hotel so they could catch up on their sleep and adjust to the time difference. Alfred went along grudgingly.

The next morning, after a quick breakfast at the hotel, Alfred, his dads, and his brother all left to go sightseeing. They’d visited the ruins of Pompeii and had been wandering around the Piazza del Plebiscito for a while when his Papa brought up the idea of stopping to get lunch.

“I think we should give it another half hour. Statistically, I’m more likely to run into my soulmate out here than in a restaurant.”

Matthew laughed. “You’re actually objecting to the idea of eating? That’s not like you, Al.”

Alfred pouted at his brother’s teasing. “I just want to meet my soulmate,” he muttered.

“Perhaps if you could tell us your type, it would narrow down the search a little, mon chou,” his papa suggested.

Alfred thought it over. “I don’t think I have a type. I hope they’re around my age so we can be together for the rest of our lives, but other than that, I’ll like my soulmate for whoever they are.” Matthew was fairly sure his soulmate would be a girl, but he was open to other possibilities. Alfred had no gender preferences, so it could theoretically be anyone.

His dad sighed. “So the plan is to walk around this city aimlessly until some Italian calls you an arsehole.”

Alfred glanced behind him to speak to his dad. “Pretty much.”

“And if they’re not here?”

“Then we’ll wander around aimlessly somewhere else in Italy. And then, if that doesn’t work, we’ll go to another town, until I meet whoever it is I’m supposed to—”

Alfred was interrupted in the middle of talking to his dad by a body colliding into his. He heard a startled oof, then whirled around to see a brunet man falling to the ground. He managed to avoid faceplanting on the pavement by throwing out his hands at the last minute, then quickly scrambled to his feet.

Alfred knew Italian pretty well for an American kid who had a French and English parent. He knew that in this situation he should say mi dispiace or ask him ha bisogno di aiuto, but Alfred couldn’t get his mouth to work. His heart was beating too fast, his stomach was filled with butterflies, and he’d scoffed at the idea of love at first sight so many times before, but he couldn’t explain his reaction any other way.

The stranger he’d knocked over because he hadn’t been paying attention to where he was going was beautiful.

Of course, he started yelling at him, with that phrase Alfred had first learned nearly two years ago and that was now making his arm tingle with recognition. The stranger was glaring at him, but Alfred was too mesmerized by his gorgeous hazel eyes to feel intimidated. He was gesturing furiously, but Alfred was awestruck by how cute it was.

He was grinning by the time the stranger had finished ranting at him, and he said the only thing he could think of. “God, you’re perfect.”

Alfred’s soulmate’s eyes widened, and he grabbed onto his right arm in disbelief. Alfred laughed and went over to hug him. But he was too exhilarated from hugging his soulmate to stay still. Alfred picked him up and spun him around. His soulmate hissed at Alfred to put him down, but he ended up clinging to Alfred’s neck in a way that suggested he didn’t really want to let go.

By the time he set him back down on his feet, his soulmate was blushing and smiling a little in spite of himself. Alfred beamed. “You’re the cutest person I’ve ever seen!” He turned towards his amused family. “Isn’t he the cutest person you’ve ever seen?”

Matthew chuckled. “Alfred, you might want to find out his name before you start telling us about him.”

“Oh right.” Alfred cleared his throat. “Mi chiamo Alfred. Lei… come si chiama?”

His soulmate snickered at him. Maybe it should’ve bothered him that he was being made fun of, but Alfred was too focused on how adorable he was and how much he wanted to kiss him. “Your accent sounds ridiculous,” he explained. “And my name is Savino.”

“Well, Savino, I’ve got the rest of my life to get better at it. Especially if I have you to help me.”

Savino’s lips twitched up into a grin. “I’m willing to give it a shot.”

Alfred introduced his soulmate to his brother and dads then mentioned that he and his family had been thinking about getting lunch before Alfred ran into him. He asked Savino if he would like to join them for lunch.

“I know a place not too far from here. I’ll take you there.”

Savino linked his hand with Alfred’s and started to lead them forward confidently across the piazza. Alfred snuck glances at his soulmate’s face and squeezed his hand, marveling at how right it felt to hold Savino’s hand, and how right it felt to be with him, even if he was only beginning to get to know him. The piece of his life he hadn’t even known he’d been missing was guiding him through a foreign city, and now Alfred felt complete.

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jacquiesims · 4 years

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Viper Canyon - Chapter Eight

“’In light of how much Viper Canyon has grown in just the past year or two, I think it’s best if we elect a new sheriff as soon as possible. Are we all in agreement?’”

November 1852

Slowly but surely, the schoolhouse was being filled by the citizens of Viper Canyon arriving from their homes. Along with them, the heavy presence of unease and disquiet filled the air, and there was little small talk amongst the people as they sat down at the students’ desks in wait of the first ever town meeting.

Winnie wouldn’t have come to the meeting at all if it weren’t for the fact that she was the only person with a key to the school. As its sole caretaker, she stood in the back, wishing she were at home with Mamma and Bea.

The meeting had been called to discuss the bank robbery – even the mere thought of outlaws anywhere in the area made her stomach turn. Most of the women, it would seem, shared the same sentiment as Winnie – or there were still things to be looked after at home, like children and housework.

Timothy Putnam, proprietor of the Sidewinder Saloon, was chosen to lead the meeting. He’d always been regarded as one of two de facto leaders of the town alongside Mr. Monroe.

He stood at the front of the room where Winnie usually taught her lessons and cleared his throat. The room immediately turned and watched him carefully with baited breath.

“As I’m sure you’re all aware, we’ve had to call a town meeting of sorts to discuss the events that took place at the bank this past Saturday.”

“Usually this sort of thing would be taken care of by a lawman. But seeing as our previous sheriff, Mr. Daniels, passed during the bout of flu a few years back, we have no man of the law left. Unfortunately he had no successor and at the time there was no one available to take his place, so the jail has been empty ever since. ”

Winnie had seen the empty jail on Main Street and wondered why there was no sheriff or deputy to look after it. Naively, she figured it was because there was no need for one in such a peaceful town. Her stomach twisted.

Winnie turned over her shoulder at the sound of the door opening.

Quickly, with only the sound of his heavy boots against the floor boards giving him away, Elijah slid into the back of the room. He stood there in the corner and waited for Putnam to continue.

“In light of how much Viper Canyon has grown in just the past year or two, I think it’s best if we elect a new sheriff as soon as possible. Are we all in agreement?”

There were several quiet responses, all positive, and a great nodding of heads as the people all looked between each other and then back to Putnam.

“And what do you think, Mr. Yates? It was your bank that those outlaws robbed, after all…”

Mr. Yates was a man of advanced age, with a nearly bald head and shaking white hands dotted with brown spots. He was gentle and sweet and generally regarded as a saint, and his voice passed through his lips like a whisper of wind.

“A new sheriff would be for the best,” he nodded decisively. “Those men should be hanged for what they did to our poor John. May his soul rest in peace.”

The crowd murmured words of condolence and Mr. Yates settled back into his seat without another word. At his side, his son, Percival, gave him a tender look.

“I agree wholeheartedly that we should elect a new lawman,” Mr. Monroe spoke up. “Seeing as we have all of these children and families in town now. But one does have to wonder how he would be paid.”

Winnie pondered quietly in her corner. She was lucky enough to be paid her wages directly from the parents, seeing as there was no formal government in Viper Canyon to collect taxes to then divvy up between public servants – or nearby schoolboard to see to her salary. If there was a sheriff to be elected, that meant everyone would be responsible for ensuring he got his pay, and it was unrealistic to have each citizen in town come by to the jail to drop off his paycheck bit by bit. The next step would obviously be taxing the people, but…the idea of creating an entire local government seemed daunting.

“Excellent point, Mr. Monroe,” Putnam agreed. “We’ve covered Miss Hawkins’s salary quite easily by having the parents pay for their children's schooling directly, but…there have been a few flaws in that method.”

“Flaws?” Robert Campbell, the tailor, asked from his chair. “How do you mean, Mr. Putnam?”

“Consider if a child wanted to go to school but their parents couldn’t afford Miss Hawkins’s wages outright. If we were to set up a fair tax system, where everyone pays a small bit towards the school, then every child could afford to attend. Isn’t that right, Miss Hawkins?”

Putnam looked towards the back of the room where Winnie stood. She squirmed as every pair of eyes turned to look at her.

“Yes.” She cleared her throat, not having expected to speak. “Exactly, Mr. Putnam. Every child should be able to go to school and learn, regardless of how much or how little their parents may make.”

“Very civilized, very good,” Mr. Monroe nodded. “It’s about time we started doing things the right way around here!”

Like a flock of birds stopped on the street, everyone’s heads bobbed up and down, making small, short sounds of approval.

“Well then, I believe we’ve come to the consensus that we should move forward with establishing some form of government for the town. But there’s still an incredibly urgent matter at hand – what are we going to do about a sheriff?”

“I say we nominate one as soon as possible, straight away.” Mr. Monroe was deathly serious. “Preferably right now at this very meeting.”

“Well, that might be a bit soon, don’t you think?”

Robert Campbell was already a meek man, and he shrank at the thought of possibly being nominated for sheriff.

“There are vicious killers on the loose!” Mr. Monroe cried. “Those wicked criminals murdered poor John in cold blood. We have no time to spare!”

“Yes, I do have to agree with Mr. Monroe,” Putnam said. “Who knows when the outlaws will strike again? Not only was poor John Williams viciously killed, but they nearly robbed our entire town blind.”

Mr. Yates shakily came to his feet. “Don’t worry, your money was insured. I shall see to it this is all sorted out as quickly as possible.”

Percival helped his father sit back down with a sheepish look at the crowd over his shoulder.

“Thank you, Mr. Yates. My point is, who knows what they’ll do next? Their first crime here was so heinous…perhaps without a lawman, they’ll think they can get away with much more. It’s imperative we move this process along as quickly as possible.”

Elijah shifted uncomfortably in the corner. Winnie cast a look at him, having not seen him since he abruptly left town nearly a year ago. He was the same as ever – maybe a bit older looking, more tired. He caught her staring and Winnie backed down from his green eyes, pretending to stare at some of her students’ assignments pinned to the wall.

“So, are we going to nominate anyone to vote on? All of the men in town are here. It should be a fair vote.”

“Yes, let’s begin nominations. But keep in mind the men that can’t make the commitment – men with families and large businesses to run.”

That excluded more than half of the room. Even Joseph Ebey couldn’t be nominated, seeing as his large farm needed looking after and his wife was due to have their first child any day now.

Clarence Monroe was a bachelor and the successor of his father – but Winnie figured no one in their right mind would elect such a soft and awkward man into an important position like that of the sheriff.

“The obvious choice here is our Elijah McLain,” Mr. Monroe called loudly.

He looked up from beneath the brim of his hat. “Sir?”

“You’re strong, reliable, you have a good head on your shoulders…and all that time hunting and trapping for the Hudson Bay Company made you an incredible shot – I’ve seen it with my own eyes!”

More positive sounds came from the crowd.

“What do you say, Elijah? Do you accept your nomination for Viper Canyon Sheriff?”

He thought about it for only a few moments before taking a deep breath. “Yes, sir. Sounds all right to me.”

“Well, then. Our first nomination goes to Elijah McLain. Does anyone else have anyone in mind?”

Winnie thought she could hear the crickets chirping outside.

“Anyone?”

“Elijah’s perfect for the job,” Mr. Monroe reiterated. “I’d trust him with my life.”

“Is there anyone who disagrees? Who thinks Elijah wouldn’t be a good fit for Sheriff?”

Silence.

“Well, then. By order of acclimation, Elijah McLain is now the newest sheriff of Viper Canyon. Congratulations!”

To Be Continued

Previous Chapter | Viper Canyon Index | Chapter Nine Coming Soon

(These group scenes take me so long...such a short chapter that took me forever! I hope you guys like the story, things are finally falling into place for the main plot to begin :) let me know what you thought and thank you for reading as always <3)

#ts2 #sims 2 #ts2 story #viper canyon #viper canyon story #viper canyon: chapter eight

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kgyeomiex · 4 years

Text

Rush

“Real love is always chaotic. You lose control; you lose perspective. You lose the ability to protect yourself. The greater the love, the greater the chaos. It’s a given and that’s the secret.”

Imagine meeting someone that impacts your life in a way you wouldn’t be able to imagine. Luna always struggled trying to get where wanted in life by working ten times harder than most people at her campus... But she does meet someone who is used to having it easy… What will happen when Luna and the person she meets both start getting to know each other.. Will things work out for the both of them?

Shining~

More Chapters:

Here We Go Again | The Fool

Masterlist

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Meeting someone who was a big pain in the ass wasn’t part of the plan. All I wanted was to focus on my study and just travel to countries that have been on my bucket list for years now. However, he made my plans completely change. He included himself in my later on plans… He made me want to fight for something else besides my damn future… I don’t whether meeting him was a blessing or a curse.

Something about meeting that one person is a clear message, however, I’m still trying to figure out what that message could be…

Was it destiny or a lesson?

“We’re here!” My best friend Claire shouts as she pulls into the college campus and I stared at the window and smiled. This was my junior year of college… Just this year and next year and I’m hopefully off working for a huge company out in New York getting my life settled...

“Can you believe it… We’re almost out of here.” I said as I sat there and stared out from the window getting a view of the campus and watching students coming out of cars with their suitcases by their side.

“Tell me about it, I feel old.” Claire starts complaining like a complete granny and I rolled my eyes.

“Girl the day just started and you’re already complaining?” I asked Claire rolling my eyes and I could hear her laugh right next to me and I smiled.

I know school hasn’t started yet but the more I keep looking at the campus the more I realized I should try to get my shit together before my last year of college... I mean, to be honest, it’s sad to say that I don’t have any college stories to share when I’m older, but I want to achieve my goal… This year it’s all about focusing.

“Oh my god! I heard they are throwing a party already at the campus later on! You joining me, right?” Claire asks as she moves her shoulder from side to side hoping to convince me, but she should know the answer.

“Claire you kn-” before I could finish my sentence my phone suddenly began to ring.

“Hold that thought.”

I pulled out my phone and was quick to answer it.

“Hello?”

“Is this Luna?” Wow, I didn’t even get a hello back, instead, I got a question. Who is this calling anyway?

“Yes, who’s calling?”

“Well, I see that you applied to be a bartender at the bar Poison. We looked at your resume and… Well, we are interested in having you work for us.”

My eyes widen. I didn’t expect to get the job, I mean I worked as a bartender once but quit because I worked with irresponsible people. Everyone acted younger than their actual age and I felt like I worked harder than others.

“Of course!” I blurted out without thinking twice and I could feel Claire staring right at me. She’s probably judging me, but I don’t care, I just got a job at the beginning of my Junior year.

“Good! Can you start today at 6?” I was about to start finding excuses, but I realized I had nothing to do besides unpacking my belongings, plus it would give you an excuse not to attend back to a school college party.

“Sounds perfect, see you then.” From that point on we both hanged up and I looked at Claire and smiled.

“Well looks like I can’t join you at tonight’s party.”

“Why not?”

“I have work.” I winked at Claire and I could see that she didn’t look too fond of my decision, but she couldn’t say anything. But to be honest I rather work than go to a party and do nothing there. Yes, I know I’m still going to be in a party environment but I’m going to be making money not going to look like a fool and feel like a complete outcast.

“Luna!”

“What?! It’s either money or the party, what would you choose if you were me?” I was quick to change the question on her and the only thing she could do at this point is just sigh.

That’s what I thought.

“I hate you,” Claire mumbles and I quickly wrapped my arm around her shoulder and pulled her into a hug.

“You love me.”

The moment we finally settled everything in our dorm room I was quick to rush through my closet and look for something cute to wear. The first thing I learned about being a bartender is to be social and to always look your best. In order to get customers those are the major secrets, you needed to succeed.

“Aish what should I wear?” I mumbled talking to myself and I glanced at Claire and could see her looking for an outfit for tonight’s party as well. Eventually, I finally found a decent outfit for the night

Outfit: http://weheartit.com/entry/194640948/in-set/11990615-fashion?context_user=Omfgbrandyy&page=21

(Besides the hat)

“What do you think?” I asked Claire spinning around and she looked at me from head to toe and had a poker face. She was making it very difficult to read her facial expression.

“You don’t like it...” I murmured looking down. I heard laughter escape Claire's lips and I quickly looked up and saw her there smiling.

“Of course, I love the outfit dummy, just felt like bursting your bubble.” I rolled my eyes and walked back to my suitcase. It’s hard trying to make sure you look good but don’t look like a complete fool.

“Ah, I’m still upset you can’t show up to the party! I heard there is going to be cute boys there.” Claire knew cute boys were my weakness, but not for tonight’s party.

“Nice try.” I winked at Claire before I got up and walked off to apply some makeup for tonight’s job.

Jimin’s Point of View

“I have no idea why I’m even here.” I said as I dropped my suitcase there on the ground and Yoongi stares at me and shakes his head in disapproval.”

“Listen, maybe if you would have stayed out of trouble back at home, we wouldn’t be here in the first place.” I took one glance at Yoongi and there I see him smiling after making such a harsh comment.

Aish I don’t understand why I constantly have to make an image that everyone wants just because my father owns this huge CEO company. My father and I are two different people. People should mind their damn business and let me live.

“Fuck off, I didn’t ask to be the son of a CEO.”

“You’re annoying.” I could hear Yoongi mumbling and I rolled my eyes. I opened up my suitcase and just sat beside it sighing. While I’m here I didn’t want anyone knowing who I was. Since I’m here at college I might as well try to live a normal student life and just party it out.

“Anyways have you seen this?” I asked Yoongi grabbing a hold of a flyer I randomly snatched from the hall and Yoongi just stared at the poster and then back at me.

“What about it?”

Tonight, was a welcome back party down at the campus, and I know I got put into college to get my act together, but right now all I wanted to do was have fun. I didn’t care what anyone else had to say, I was going to do what I wanted to do regardless anyone had to say.

“Let’s go.”

“To the party? Uh… Is there a pass option on this?” Yoongi asks as he was thrown on his bed and I just stared at him and threw a pillow in his direction.

“Can you not be lazy for a second and work with me here?” Yoongi sat up and just stared at me annoyed. I invited Yoongi to come down to Northeastern with me just so I wouldn’t go through this journey completely alone. However, Yoongi seems to want to kill my fun plans.

“Fine!”

I smiled in satisfaction and knew I had to get ready for the big party, had to dress to impress. I mean I’m here to have fun, right?

Luna’s Point of View

The moment I walked into the bar; I was expecting to have such an awkward welcoming where I would have to introduce myself about 6,000 times just to look for the manager… However, the complete opposite happened. The moment I stepped into the bar, a tall bald man walked up to me and knew right away who I was. Probably because I was here before the customers arrived, but in no time, he introduced me to all the workers around and I was now behind the counter getting ready to get my job done.

Although I’m here to work and get my job done, I was still excited to have a chance to meet new people and who knows maybe make connections.

“Luna?” I heard my name being called so I quickly looked to my left and there I see a handsome guy standing right before me.

“Oh, that’s me…” I raised my hand and the young man walked over to me and he smiles brightly. I have no idea who this guy is, and I have no idea how he even knows my name. But I’ll be nice.

“Hi! I’m Jackson, I’m also a bartender at this bar.” Jackson pulls me into a hug, and I hugged him back still confused but I just went along with the whole thing.

“You must know this place pretty well then.”

“Of course, I’ll be the one to update you on the 411 and all the hot gossips,” Jackson says before giving a quick wink and walking off.

I couldn’t help but laugh. To be honest I found it a bit weird to have a stranger come up to me and hug me but as soon as Jackson spoke, I realized I was going to get along with him perfectly fine. On top of that, he’s extremely good looking… So, I don’t have a problem.

Jimin’s Point of View

Although every time I would glance a Yoongi and see him look completely miserable, I tried my best to cheer him up. I grabbed both of us two red cups with alcohol in it and hoped that would fix it.

I looked around the room and there were tons of beautiful girls all around me. The music was pounding, and the house was completely crowded. To be honest, this was my first ever going to a college party, but it’s actually how I expected it to be.

“See anyone you’re interested in yet?” Yoongi asks as he shouts over the loud music and I looked around and looked at him.

“I do,” I pointed to a girl leaning against the wall talking to a group of her friends in a red dress. Wow... I have no intentions of dating while I'm here. I’m not planning to date at all until the time is right. Right now, all I want to do is have fun.

“I’ll be back.” I winked at Yoongi before I was off trying to capture the girl's attention in the first place.

Luna’s Point of View

After meeting Jackson, work felt less boring. Jackson was by my side cracking jokes here and there and making me laugh nonstop. Today was a pretty busy day, especially because it’s Friday, but they're very interesting people here tonight.

“I’m surprised you agreed to work, instead of attending tonight's mini party,” Jackson comments as he opens a bottled beer and I looked at him. How did he know about the college welcome back party? Does that mean Jackson goes to your college as well?

“So, I’m assuming you're a student at Northeastern?” I asked leaning against the counter and Jackson laughs.

“I do. And this morning I’m pretty sure I seen you come out of a car with a girl by your side with a couple of suitcases in front of the campus.” Wow, this boy recognized me from earlier. Pretty good memory if you ask me.

“How did you know it was me? What if it was my twin sister?” I quickly flipped the question and Jackson's eyes widen and then smiled.

“That’s a nice try, but I’m sure you and your twin wouldn’t have the same earrings on purpose.” I instantly froze and Jackson laughs. Wow, a guy who pays attention to detail? He was a rare species.

“You know Jackson... I have a feeling we’re getting get along perfectly fine.”

“You know it.” Jackson sends me a wink and then was off handing customers their orders. You know what although today might have been my first day of college and I'm working… I was having a good time.

You know what, maybe this year was going to be better than expected.

Jimin’s Point of View

Did she just reject me? The moment I walked up to her, I made sure I said everything that she wanted to hear. I called her beautiful, I told her that she was the only one I had my eyes on and that I would treat her like the queen she is… But I got rejected.

I looked around and at this moment on I feel like maybe coming to this party was a mistake. I looked to my left and there I see Yoongi already speaking to a girl smiling a damn fool.

I walked over to Yoongi and he looks right at me and remains quiet.

“I think it’s time to go,” I said nudging Yoongi's side and he quickly gets up and looks at the girl he’s talking to.

“Can you excuse me for a minute?” The girl gets up and walks off and I was now left alone with Yoongi.

“What’s up?” Yoongi asks looking right at me and all I could do was just look at him.

“This party is lame, Let’s go.” Yoongi automatically smiles and to be honest I have no idea why. I mean I didn’t make any jokes or anything...

Did you miss something here?

“Yoongi.”

“Look, I know you haven’t been getting game like that… But I’m having a good time.” Yoongi just shrugs and from that point on he takes a sip of a red cup and smirks.

“Whatever I'm leaving.” From that point on I walked off and just left the lame party. I mean something I should have done a long time ago.

Luna’s Point of View

My shift has come to an end and I took a look at the time and realized it was early. Well not too early but enough to maybe unpack a bit till I knock out eventually. It was 11 pm and I knew right away that my roommate probably is still partying. I mean, to be honest, I wouldn’t be surprised.

One by one I walked across the campus and walked my way to my dorm room, but I’m not going to lie I was a bit paranoid. It was still late, and I know at this time the people that would be walking around would-be people who are intoxicated with alcohol.

When humans are intoxicated and have alcohol in their systems, they would do crazy things and not remember a thing the next day.

One by one I was silently walking back to my dorm till suddenly all I hear is mumbling.

“Fuck.”

Should I turn around or keep walking? Mmmm maybe I should just walk off, I’m not trying to die today. I continued to walk and again I heard cursing.

“You gotta be fucking kidding me!”

At this point on I picked up my feet and tried to walk faster and faster till without realizing it I dropped my keys. I stopped walking and picked up my keys till

“Excuse me,”

Thinking I was going to get attacked, I screamed until I opened my eyes and there, I see a male figure right in front of me.

“You dropped this.”

“Ah, thanks.” I awkwardly blurted out as I received my keys and he just stare right at me.

“Did I scare you or something?” Wait was this guy behind me making the noise? Well, should I confess and say he did scare me? Ah Nah.

“Of course, not…”

The moment I said that the stranger suddenly blurts out laughing and I just silently stared at him feeling dumbfounded.

What was funny?

“Well, if you weren’t scared…. That’s a pretty weird way of saying hello to a stranger.” He says referring to my scream and I rolled my eyes.

“Okay I might have been scared, but can you blame me? Look at the time and look at me. I’m a female, anything could happen.” The stranger just simply smiles and silently nods his head.

“Well…. I mean the good thing is you don’t have to worry about having anyone interested in you, you don’t have much to offer.” That same stranger looked at me from head to toe and I felt completely offended.

“Excuse me?” I asked making sure I was hearing correctly, and all the stranger does is chuckle. This boy has some nerves…

“It’s okay, you’ll eventually accept the truth.”

I wanted to scream at him but what was the point? This boy seems like a complete asshole, a guy who seems like he was so full of himself and doesn’t care about others. That’s how he rubbed off as.

“You know what, I don’t understand why I’m wasting my time talking to you,” I said rolling my eyes and from that point on I walked off leaving that complete asshole of a stranger standing there alone.

“Wait!”

I didn’t bother stopping, instead, I kept walking until someone grabbed my hand. I stopped and see the same stranger right there before me.

“Aren’t you going to ask me what my name is?” Is this boy delusional? Does he think he can attract girls this way by being rude and they will just throw themselves at him because that’s the case he’s gladly mistaking.

“No, why would I?” I asked looking at the stranger and he smiles.

“Because I know you would like to know who’s this handsome hunk.” I couldn’t help but bust out laughing and I tapped his shoulder, and I shook my head.

“Never in a million years would I have thought that.” I tried to walk off again but he ran up to me and stood right in front of me not giving me a chance to run off.

“I know you want me, stop playing games, and let’s back to my dorm.” He says getting closer to me and I quickly stretched out my arms and stopped him from moving any closer.

“Listen, screw boy, I don’t want to know your name, I don’t want to go back to your dorm and most importantly I’m wasting my breath even speaking to you… So, do you mind?”

I walked past him and as I tried to walk past my dorm there, I hear the stranger say.

“My name is Park Jimin!”

I rolled my eyes and continued with my life.

To be Continued

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toothpastecanyon · 4 years

Text

Mizar the Mediocre, Chapter 1

Alcor gets a summons from a strange Mizar. Maybe there's still something to recognise, here.

See most updated version on Archive of Our Own.

______________________________________________________________

Mizars. Alcor had known so many of them through the ages, and he’d seen that they tended to follow a theme. They were somebody bubbly. Somebody spontaneous. Somebody who stood out from the crowd. He’d seen Mizars who were doctors, lawyers, adventurers, cultists, demon hunters, people who led radically different lives from Mabel… but there was always something to recognise.

And he liked that.

______________________________________________________________

You’d think a place nicknamed ‘Sin City’ would get a lot of visits from Alcor, but he’d been to Las Vegas relatively few times. Maybe he just wasn’t the demon that came to mind when one was down on their luck in the casinos… regardless, he was mildly interested to find a summons drawing him there, and he was very surprised when he realised what soul was summoning him.

A Mizar? Huh. Well, he’d better go see what she wanted.

The first thing that caught his eye was the view. They were high up in some sort of hotel room, and the tall windows opened wide to cloudless skies above and the sprawling city below. The carpet was zebra print - it made his eyes vibrate a little - and the two perfectly laid double beds looked like they’d never been touched by a living being, much less slept in. A school bag slumped at the foot of the further one.

Alcor frowned. There were a couple of candles encircling him, but no chalk… and no summoner, it seemed. It didn’t take long to find out where they went; there was a gasp from behind the bed, and he quickly floated over.

“Hello?” Alcor saw his summoner huddled against the bedframe, clutching a metal tray to his chest. “Mizar?”

Mizar was… certainly different this time round. He looked like he was in his forties, balding, dressed in a leopard print dressing gown and pink camo crocs. He squeaked when he saw Alcor floating over him, and cowered under his tray.

“Why aren’t you in your circle?” He pressed himself up against a bedside table. “The website said you were going to stay there!”

Alcor blinked. “Uh… you didn’t draw a binding circle, dude. You didn’t even draw a summoning circle.”

“Don’t blame me! I tried, but it just wasn’t working on the carpet, so I thought I’d wing it, and-”

“You thought you’d wing it? Wing a demon summoning?!” Alcor watched him curl up tighter. He pinched his nose. “Okay, well, I’m here now, and lucky for you, I’m not going to hurt you. What do you want?”

There was a moment of silence, and then Mizar peeked up at him from behind his tray. “You’re not gonna hurt me?”

“No, you got very lucky. You should never summon a demon without a containment plan; other ones wouldn’t hesitate to-”

“Oh, that’s great news!” He popped up and tossed away the tray with a giant grin. “Ashley’s gonna love me for this!”

“Ashley?”

“My daughter! She loves demons - watches that Magical Mizar show of yours all the time. She’s not gonna believe that I got the real Alcor the Dreamlender to show up!”

“She- wait, Dreamlender? It’s Dreambender!”

“Oh, it is?” He tied up his dressing gown. “Huh, guess I misread it. Well, anyway, wait there for a second, will ya?” Then he turned towards the bathroom at the other end of the room and called, “Oh, Ashley! Sweetie? You there?”

There was no reply. The man shot Alcor a nervous smile.

“She, uh, said she wanted some alone time to chat with her friends - but that was a whole fifteen minutes ago, I’m sure she’ll come out any second now! Ashley, darling?”

In the awkward silence that followed, Alcor just stared. This… was Mizar? This was where his sister’s soul had ended up? In this weird older guy whose aura tasted of cheap motel food and desperation?

Okay, maybe he shouldn’t jump to conclusions. This guy was probably cool, somewhere. He cracked a smile.

“So, uh… what’s your name?”

“Hmm? Oh, I suppose I didn’t introduce myself yet!” The man stuck out his hand. “I’m Martin! But you can call me Mart. Mart the Fart. That’s what my ex-wife calls me, it’s, uh… it’s all in good fun!”

“Okay…” Alcor took his hand, and then frowned when Mart put an arm around him. “Are you trying to steal my wallet?”

“Whaaaat? Noooo… I just, uh, I wanted a hug!”

He rolled his eyes at that, but before he got a chance to reply, a scream rang out from the front of the room. Mart jumped up.

“Ashley?”

“Dad, run!” A terrified teenager had flattened herself against the front door; she stabbed a finger at Alcor. “That’s - demon! Oh my stars!”

“What? Oh, Ashley, sweetie, it’s okay! I summoned him!”

“You… what?”

“He’s with me, it’s fine!” Mart tried to jump over a bed, but tripped on his robe and fell down the other side. “Ow, uh, yeah! Surprise!”

“Wh- Surprise?!”

“Cause you like Magical Mizar, right? He’s the Alcor actor!”

Alcor winced at the waves of horror-turning-to-fury coming off of Ashley. He raised a hand. “Uh, just for the record, I’m not planning to hurt anyone. Also I didn’t actually act in Magical-”

“What the fuck, Dad?! You put everyone’s lives in danger just so you could reference some stupid show?”

Mart’s smile froze on his face. “Uh… do you like it?”

Alcor cringed. Bad question. Bad, bad question.

“No!” She snapped. “Absolutely not! I haven’t even watched Magical Mizar since I was, like, six! It’s like you don’t even fucking know me!”

“Sweetie, I-”

“Just leave me alone!”

With that, she slammed the door in his face. Mart stood there for a second, then shot Alcor a nervous smile.

“Uh… teenagers. Wow.” He jabbed his thumb at the door. “You know, she must’ve learned those four letter words at her mother’s place. Which is fine! I just, I didn’t teach her those.” He tried for a chuckle. “Surprising.”

Alcor pursed his lips. “Yep,” he said, in the ensuing silence. “Very surprising.”

______________________________________________________________

They ended up watching TV for a little while. Mart sat on the bed and started flicking through channels, and Alcor - seeing no obvious summons in need of his attention - awkwardly floated in the corner of the room.

“Ugh, golf. Bor-ring. Let’s find something exciting, right, Alcor?”

He tried to keep his eyes on the screen, but they kept straying down to the man in the leopard print dressing gown… the Mizar in the leopard print dressing gown.

“Oh, My Strange Curse is on!” Mart pointed to the TV. “You heard of this show, buddy? I saw an episode once where a guy got cursed so that nobody would believe a word he was saying. I thought it was kinda fake, but hey, it’s a fun bit of reality TV!”

“I see.” Alcor stared at the screen, where a guy was talking about how everything he ate randomly turned into Christmas ornaments. “So what do they do in the show? Do they hire cursebreakers to come in and help them?”

“No? They sorta… just talk about how weird their curse is for thirty minutes then say they should do some exercise and eat better. It’s… it’s kinda mean, actually.” He changed the channel. “Let’s watch something else. Ooh, Babyfights!”

Alcor rolled his eyes, but he looked up at the sound of a door creaking open. Ashley was peeking out of the bathroom; her eyebrows raised a little when she caught sight of him floating in the corner of the room, but she didn’t scream again. After a moment, she closed the door behind her, and came walking over to sit on the other bed.

Mart didn’t seem to notice, so he cleared his throat.

“Hi.” He tried for a wave. “Ashley, right?”

“Wh-? Oh, Ashley! Hi, sweetie!”

“Hi, Dad.” Ashley’s eyes flitted over to Alcor. “So, uh, is he just a thing, now?”

“What do you mean?”

“Is the big, all-powerful demon floating on the ceiling just hanging out with us now, or what?”

“Oh, Alcor?” Mart looked up at him, and shrugged. “I mean, I’m okay with it! The more the merrier, right?”

Ashley didn’t say anything to that. He gave an awkward smile. “I can leave you guys alone if you want.”

She kept staring at him for a second, her eyes dull, her lips turned down, her aura grey and guarded. Finally, she turned away, and looked to the TV.

“Whatever.”

And they sat there, for a little while. Nothing much happened. Mart looked over at Ashley and smiled, but she was looking down at her phone all of a sudden. He went back to flipping through channels.

Alcor twiddled his thumbs. He looked outside, at the great big city just outside this little room. Las Vegas looked strange in the middle of the day; the neon lights were dulled, the concrete bleached by the desert sun. There was barely any green, barely any relief from the greyish-white that stretched all the way to the mountains far in the distance. Without the cover of darkness, the City of Lights just looked… sad. Bland. Out of place.

Boring.

He looked over at Mart and Ashley. “Hey,” he started, and tried for a smile. “So, uh, what do you guys do here, usually?”

“Huh?” Mart looked up and grinned. “Oh, in Vegas? What can’t you do? It’s my favourite place on earth!”

“Dad likes the casinos.”

“Not just the casinos, sweetie.” He cracked a grin. “Though those are pretty good. There’s tons to do here!”

Alcor cocked his head. “Like what?”

“Well, there’s, there’s a restaurant downstairs. Serves really nice food.” Mart pointed at the phone. “You can even get it delivered up here!”

“Dad, I think he was asking about stuff you can do outside the casino.”

“Oh? Oh, yeah, you can do stuff outside too! There’s… um…” he scratched his head. “Oh, there’s like a cool water show every night! I took Ashley there once, it was really pretty, I loved it.”

“It was alright.”

“Yeah!” He grinned at her. “We should do that again sometime!”

“Ehh.”

“No? Oh, that’s okay too.”

Alcor looked over at Ashley. “What do you want to do?”

“Me?” She raised an eyebrow at him. “I don’t care. I’ll probably just, I dunno, be here. Why?”

“I was just curious.”

She gave him an odd look at that, but before she could say anything else, Mart suddenly let out a loud laugh.

“Oh, my stars, look at this!”

“What?”

“They’ve got a mini golf tournament on TV!”

Alcor cocked his head. “You like mini golf?”

“Oh, yeah! I used to work at a mini golf course - they even let me sleep in the windmill!” He pointed. “Like one of those! Except it was smaller. And not that clean. And you had to know where to lie, so the nails wouldn’t... the pros always have more of a budget, y’know.”

“I see.” He smiled, despite himself. “So I bet you’re pretty good at it?”

“Am I good? Well, I don’t wanna brag, but I’d say I’m pretty c’est la vie at it.” Mart shot him a grin. “Why’d you ask? You think you can beat me, Mr Dreamputter?”

“He probably can, Dad.” Ashley didn’t look up from her phone. “Don’t start betting stuff.”

“Wha- oh, hah! You know me too well, sweetie. Don’t worry, I totally wouldn’t do anything crazy, like… bet a demon fifty bucks I can beat him in a round of mini golf.” He winked at Alcor. “Unless he wants to make things interesting.”

Just the sight of that sleazy grin made Alcor’s demon instincts go into overdrive. He grit his teeth. “I was thinking it’d be… more of a friendly game.” He managed, resisting the urge to take the easiest deal he’d seen in ages. “What do you two think?”

“Aww. Well, I’m still up for it!” Mart sat up and looked at his daughter. “Ashley, sweetie, you got your phone out. Think you could google where the nearest course is?”

“Mhm.”

______________________________________________________________

“Alright, just… move stuff around if you need to.” Mart pulled his seat forward to let Alcor in. “Sorry, backseat’s a bit of a mess. I wasn’t expecting a friend!”

A ‘bit of a mess’ was an understatement, Alcor thought as he shoved a mountain of scratch cards into the middle seat. All the legroom was taken up by crumpled hawaiian shirts and neon-coloured jeans; they gave off a faded but still-distinct stench of alcohol. He was almost afraid to move them aside.

“Alright, sweetie, seatbelts! You good back there, Alcor!”

“Yeah?” Alcor pulled a sleeping bag out of the way. “Why do-”

“Camping! I don’t sleep in my car.”

He blinked. “Uh-”

“Just, heh, wanted to make that clear. I don’t sleep in my car.” He reached over and patted Ashley’s shoulder. “Your old Dad’s doing great for himself, don’t you worry about a thing, uh… mini golf! Yeah! Let’s addios!”

Mart peeled off and took a hard right out of the parking lot, burying Alcor in scratch cards.

“Hey, Ashley! Put on my good tunes, will you?”

“No.”

“Hah, uh, alright! I’ll do it myself.”

A stream of loud pop music filtered into the back seat. Alcor perked up at the voice.

“Is this…?”

“Marcia Sinderson’s greatest hits, volume twenty-one?” Mart turned up the volume. “I found it in a bargain bin a few months back - I don’t even think she was alive when they made half these tracks but I love it!”

The music did contain a lot more ‘whoaaa’ s than lyrics, but Alcor chuckled when Mart rolled down the window and started singing along. Ashley sank into her chair, groaning.

This was… interesting, he thought. Strange in many, many ways, but somehow… familiar. And he liked that.

He’d missed hanging out with his Mizar.

#transcendence au #martin #toothwrites #not beta read

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ask-the-good-creeps · 4 years

Note

i’m curious as to why ben and jeff hang out so much. is there any particular reason why?

//Be forewarned, young one. The story of how these two started their friendship is not for the faint of heart. It’s a friendship forged upon mutual understanding of each other’s deepest traumas and regrets. If you can handle shedding a few tears today...feel free to read on, and know as you read that until now Jeff, BEN, and Smile were the only three who knew this story.//

Secrets, Exposed

“Shut up! Everything was better before you showed up! Why can’t you just go away and leave me alone?! I hate you!”

The little girl in front of him had been six years old at the time. Only six…but that didn’t matter in the moment. He was a ten-year-old boy who had developed a short fuse thanks to the abuse he sustained day in and day out. He had made a habit of lashing out at other kids about the smallest of things over the past few years, and she was no exception to that.

All she’d done is ask him to play with her; he’d refused, she asked again – as young children do. It was an inconvenient time for him and an annoyance that she wouldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer, but the situation didn’t exactly warrant his overreaction.

Now she was crying, and before he could say anything further she ran off into the front yard.

--------------

He couldn’t do anything back then. He had been a kid…just a stupid, short-tempered, ridiculous kid. He wasn’t that kid anymore.

The poltergeist had had a few things on his to-do list when he first woke up in the lake. After facing the trauma of an untimely demise through violent murder and the horrors of The Between that followed shortly after, he was relieved to find himself with a second chance (of sorts) in the living world.

He eliminated his murderer so nobody else would have to suffer at the bastard’s hands. He found a way to let himself into powerlines and grids, as well as the Internet so he could travel to any place and learn anything he damn-well pleased.

He realized then that he was no longer limited. He could do something now.

He started looking for her. He scoured the Dark Web, online chats and seedy sites, every digital place he could. He still found nothing but dead ends and horribly disturbing possibilities. He didn’t want to admit that he needed help, but he knew he’d never find her without it. This wasn’t his area of expertise, and her life meant more than his pride as far as he was concerned.

When another not-so-human contact of his first mentioned the eternally-grinning vigilante, he wasn’t interested in the guy in the slightest…but the guy’s standard victimology was another story. His contact had told him that nobody in their little network – and likely nobody else in the world – could ever do better at tracking down and eliminating human traffickers and small-time kidnappers alike.

That’s how he’d ended up here. He kept himself invisible as most spirits could while he waited. This old house had been condemned many years ago. The building was falling apart, and the empty interior was defined by peeling paint, rotting wood, and the ever-present scent of mold that may or may not have been toxic. It made no difference to BEN. It was unpleasant, but he couldn’t die a second time.

It didn’t take much longer for him to hear the front door creak open. The sound was nearly silent, but any noise was clear and obvious in this long-forgotten place. There were footsteps next – two sets that were both light and quick.

BEN watched them come around the corner into the room where he’d been waiting. The first to step in was a red and black creature of canine origin. It bore an impossibly large, unsettling grin full of sharp teeth, and its eyes found BEN’s location immediately and stayed fixed on him. The canine’s human-like partner came in soon after.

The poltergeist took in his appearance. He was tall and muscular underneath the maroon-stained hoodie he wore. His greasy black hair hung to his shoulders in thick strands that contrasted strongly against his pale, mottled skin. His face was what uniquely identified him as the man BEN was looking for; the Cheshire grin carved into his cheeks stood out proudly. From a distance, it would completely override his true expression, which reflected caution now.

He stood still in the room with his eyes focused on the wall in front of him. Most would think he had assumed he and his dog were alone, but BEN knew the man was nearly blind. He was listening to verify who was in here. While the green-clad spirit doubted he could be heard, he knew the man was likely aware of his presence regardless.

“Hello, Jeff.” BEN greeted after a few minutes of silence as he let himself take form. The man, Jeff, focused his gaze on him despite most likely only viewing him as a silhouette. Jeff offered a grunt of acknowledgement as he regarded BEN, but nothing further. His stance indicated that he was waiting to be told why he’d been called here. He showed no signs of impatience, but BEN had a hunch he wanted to be somewhere else.

“We’re both busy people, so let’s not beat around the bush here. I need to find someone, and I hear you’re my best shot at making it happen.”

“I’m not a bloodhound for hire. If the someone you’re after is someone I’m able to find, I’ll be the one to kill them. You don’t need to be part of the equation.” Jeff’s voice was cold and raspy, and his words set BEN’s face into a scowl. He took a moment to compose himself before speaking again to avoid saying something to offend Jeff. Normally he wouldn’t care about upsetting the guy, but he needed help.

“You misunderstand,” BEN started, “I’m after…an old friend…who disappeared a little over a year ago. I just need to find her, and I haven’t found any leads on my own. Just point me in the right direction – that’s all I’m asking.”

Jeff didn’t respond right away. He seemed to be considering it, but BEN didn’t know for sure and he wasn’t about to overstep any boundaries to find out.

“I can make it worth your while. What do you want in exchange for your service?” BEN asked.

“Nothing. No deal.” Jeff shook his head and turned around to go back the way he came. BEN growled at the rude dismissal and appeared in front of Jeff again.

“Why not?” the poltergeist demanded.

“Does it matter?” Jeff replied emotionlessly. The casual tone was enough to set BEN over the edge.

“Yes, it does matter! She matters! She’s only seven years old now – you of all people should know what kind of Hell she must be going through! You’re telling me you’re willing to spend all your energy finding someone to murder, but you won’t put that same effort toward finding someone to save? What the fuck is wrong with you?! How can you call yourself a vigilante?!”

“I never called myself a vigilante.” Jeff replied as his face worked into a frown. BEN opened his mouth to rant further, but Jeff cut him off. “If this friend of yours was six and she was taken over a year ago, what makes you think she’s even still alive?”

Those words were more effective than anything at silencing the young poltergeist. He hadn’t thought about that. He hadn’t wanted to. Now that he was being confronted with the possibility, he couldn’t find words to answer with. BEN opened his mouth and shut it a few times, while Jeff waited silently for a reply.

“She has to be. She has to be.” BEN wasn’t able to say anything else. He refused to believe it could be possible that she was gone forever.

Jeff sighed. He knew based on the info he’d been given here that this friend of BEN’s only had a ten percent chance of being found alive after all this time, fifteen percent maximum; but he could hear the desperation in his voice and had a strong feeling the ghoul wouldn’t leave him be until he agreed.

“Fine. I’ll help. Where was she last seen?” BEN’s face momentarily reflected shock, but it faded quickly as he started to give Jeff all of the information he had. Jeff promised to help locate her, but made it very clear that he made no promises of finding her alive. And so it began.

---------------------

BEN would be lying if he said he wasn’t at least mildly irked with himself. He’d been searching for months to no avail, but it only took Jeff a couple weeks to get a solid lead. Jeff knew these monsters, though – how they thought, how they planned, where they’d go. He had better insight into these twisted minds than BEN could ever hope to have, and that’s what made him the best.

They had gone through several rings now. She had been sold and bought several times since her disappearance, always by outsiders, it seemed. Now they were at the end of the lead. The final stop. If she wasn’t here…

“Stay out here.” Jeff had ordered.

“What? No, I’m coming in!” BEN countered with a glare. They were outside the house where she was supposed to be. He couldn’t just wait out here.

“Listen, kid. I’ve seen what kinda conditions these fuckers leave their toys in. If she’s in there, you don’t want to see her like that. Just wait here for me - I’ll handle it.”

Jeff walked away toward the house then without waiting for BEN’s reply. The poltergeist huffed and crossed his arms while he waited for something to happen. His foot tapped impatiently on the damp grass despite how little time had gone by.

He started to pace after he saw Jeff go around the side of the house and leave his view. Seven steps forward, turn around, seven steps back the way he came, turn around…he kept going, his impatience growing with each step. He stopped when he heard a shout inside the house, and after a couple seconds of debate with himself he went in after Jeff.

The livingroom was trashed, but devoid of life. He heard talking in the kitchen and went in to find Jeff, who was keeping a middle-aged, balding man pinned to the wall. The vigilante’s knife was pressed into the skin of the terrified homeowner’s throat, but not hard enough to draw blood…yet.

The homeowner was pleading for his life, begging Jeff to let him go, promising not to tell anyone about him, the whole nine yards. Jeff obviously wasn’t listening anymore. He had the information he needed.

“Well?” BEN demanded. Jeff heaved a deep sigh and hauled the man to his knees in front of BEN.

“I warned you.” Jeff answered quietly. It took BEN a moment to process what the grinning man meant by that statement. The poltergeists teeth clenched as tight as his fists, and the lights in the house started flickering wildly as he fixed his harshest glare on the pathetic creature in front of him.

“Where is she?!” the ghoul demanded. The bastard was terrified out of his mind as he attempted to stutter out an answer. It wasn’t good enough for BEN.

“If you aren’t going to tell me, I’ll make you show me!” the blond was so firmly entrenched in the maelstrom of his own wrath, he barely registered Jeff shouting for him not to do it. He latched his cold, water-bloated, decaying fingers around the bastard’s head and dug into his memories.

Jeff had been right about these images being things he wouldn’t want to see. Part of BEN wished he’d listened…but the other part of him – the stronger part – told him that she’d had to live through this nightmare because of him. It was his fault she’d suffered so much. The least he could do is try to understand that suffering.

BEN yelled out in frustration as he reached the last memory the lowlife had of her. He threw the bastard away from him and the twisted head he’d just been looking through smacked painfully hard against the wall. The body slumped over underneath the new bloodstain on the wall, and BEN left him there awkwardly folded in half as he yelled again. This time the force of his rage shattered every lightbulb in the house and left them in complete darkness.

Jeff watched this all happen silently. An ‘I told you so’ definitely wasn’t the right thing to say here – Jeff may have been cold, but he wasn’t that cruel. BEN stormed out through the back door and Jeff followed him. He knew the ghoul could more or less teleport away if need be, so he was curious about why he chose to walk instead…and where he was going. BEN’s gait was purposeful; he was a man on a mission.

He listened as the ghoul stopped next to a slow-moving river. Jeff had heard stories here and there about BEN. He knew the guy had an aversion to water due to the circumstances of his death…and yet, he heard the splash as BEN reached his arm into the river and felt around. The blond seemed to find what he was looking for, and seconds later Jeff heard another splash and a series of dripping noises, followed by a light thump as what was pulled from the water was lowered onto soft dirt.

BEN sank to his knees next to the wet burlap sack. It had been sewn shut, and BEN could feel the weight of the rocks that had held it at the bottom of the river. He wanted to tear it open, but he hesitated. He couldn’t bring himself to do it.

Another sound tore from his throat, but this one wasn’t a yell. It was a sob, and it was soon followed by another. He was too late. It was his fault. The horrible possibility he hadn’t wanted to consider was right there in front of him now – there was no way to deny it anymore. Thick, dark liquid slithered down his cheeks in place of tears as he released sounds of the deepest pain he’d ever known.

He felt someone sit next to him, felt an arm around his shoulders. Somewhere in the back of his mind he was surprised to find Jeff holding him in a clear attempt at being comforting…but that wasn’t his main concern now. Jeff held him closer and rubbed his arm while he let it out, like the older brother he’d never had. BEN’s sobbing died down after a while, but the pain he felt was nowhere near fading.

“The last thing I said to her was…I hate you.” The poltergeist sniffled, and the statement hung in the silent night air between them for a few moments.

“Did you hate her?”

“No! I just…I wanted her to leave me alone for a while. I guess I got what I wished for.” BEN’s answer was heavy with remorse and bitterness alike. There was another long pause.

“You never told me who she was to you.” Jeff replied. There was no warmth in his voice, but none of the coldness BEN had come to expect from the man was there either.

“My…sister,” BEN answered, “Rosie was my little sister.”

“It’s not your fault.” Jeff said quietly.

“How could it not be? If I’d just agreed to play with her that day, she wouldn’t have been taken! She ran outside because I made her cry! She got kidnapped because of me!” BEN’s voice was raised, but lacking anger. The fiery rage he’d felt before had been extinguished, the sorrow and loss had all leaked down his cheeks…now he just felt the crushing weight of the guilt that he’d been holding onto since she vanished that day.

“He didn’t even care. Nobody did. The police stopped looking and said there was nothing they could do. He just drank more and took down all the photos of her in the house, like she was never there! I’m the only one…the only one who remembered her. I’m the only one who cared, and she died thinking I hated her.” He let out another sob, but it was just the sound. He didn’t have any tears left to add to it. Jeff waited for him to be done and pulled him in for a proper hug.

“I’ve survived being tormented by these fuckers. I’ve been hunting them down for ages. You said yourself that I know how they think better than anyone,” Jeff started, “So listen to me when I tell you that it wasn’t your fault. The guy who took her was planning it. He’d been targeting her for weeks, remember? Even if you’d agreed to play with her that day, it wouldn’t have deterred him. He would’ve done it another day – Hell, he might’ve even kicked your ass to drag her away – and there wouldn’t have been much you could do. You were a kid. He was an evil bastard that did something unforgiveable. All of this was his fault, not yours. It wasn’t your fault, BEN. It wasn’t your fault.”

The words weren’t getting through to him. BEN couldn’t believe any of it.

“I’m her big brother. It was my job to protect her.” He cried.

“No. It’s the responsibility of the adults around you to keep you safe when you’re a kid. They failed you, and they failed her. None of this is on you. It’s not your fault.” Jeff held him tighter and continued to reassure him. BEN was inconsolable, nonetheless. He felt a drop of water his head, and wondered if it was starting to rain.

Wouldn’t that be poetic? He thought to himself morosely. He pulled away from Jeff and looked up, but didn’t see a single cloud in the night sky. He looked at Jeff and noticed the liquid running down the man’s cheeks. He hadn’t expected it. He’d thought Jeff was a borderline sociopath this whole time. Jeff wiped his cheeks with his sleeve, but didn’t make a sound. How long had he been crying?

“How do you want to send her off?” Jeff asked as he gestured vaguely in the direction of the bag. BEN hadn’t thought about it before. He looked at the rough sack that contained what remained of Rosie; it was hard to believe she’d met the same terrible fate he had in the end. She’d been alive when the bag was thrown into the water. She’d drowned like he had. He remembered the fear, the burning of his insides despite how cold the water felt on his skin, the sudden feeling of calm as his life slipped away from him. He remembered The Between. Was she lost in there, as he had been? Had she managed to leave it?

“BEN?” the poltergeist looked back at Jeff as he was pulled from his thoughts.

“Cremation.” He stated simply. Jeff nodded slowly.

“I know a guy who can help with that. What will you do with the ashes?”

---------------------

The urn was heavy in his hands. Jeff’s contact had offered the nice silver one. BEN had mentioned he wasn’t going to keep her, but the guy had insisted he have something nice to hold her in. The green-clad spirit appreciated that gesture now.

He stood on the roof of the barn and looked out over the fields and pasture below. There were no cows, no horses, no pigs, no people. Everything he remembered here was gone, save for the hollow structures on the land. This farm had belonged to their maternal grandparents. They’d passed shortly after Mom did, but BEN still remembered them. He and Rosie had both loved visiting here when they were young…this was the only place BEN knew that held only good memories for them both.

The sun was setting now. He watched the sky be painted with vibrant pinks and purples as it went. He could hear her little voice next to him, marveling at how pretty it looked; then the ghost of the memory faded, replaced with the throbbing ache where his heart was supposed to be. He held tight to the urn, knowing what he had to do, but reluctant to actually do it. Nobody had ever told him how hard it was to let go.

Time didn’t slow for him. The sun continued its descent and he knew he wouldn’t have much time before it was gone. He wanted her to see it. He wanted the light to be there for her. He took off the lid of the urn and held it out in front of him. The universe seemed to call her home; a gust of wind came to carry her ashes as he let them fall from their silver container.

He watched her go, and he continued to stand there with his arm outstretched long after the last trace of light left the sky. Alone under the moonlight, he finally brought his arm back to his side. He left the roof of the old barn and started to wander, looking for something and nothing all at once.

Before he knew it his wandering had brought him to the woods. As he moved on, lost in his hurt, he came to a small clearing that hosted a single wooden structure. He didn’t think much on it as his feet carried him to the door of the unassuming little shack in the woods.

#ask the good creeps #ask creepypasta #creepypasta #jeff woods #jeff the killer #BEN DROWNED #ask #short story #sadness

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fremedon · 4 years

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Brickclub I.3.1 - I.3.3

In this readthrough, the big thing I’m focusing on in I.3.1, “The Year 1817,” is what it’s even doing here: why is this the framing for Fantine’s introduction?   So, jumping straight into the next two chapters, “Double Quartet” and “Four for Four" (otherwise known as exhibits A and B in Briana Lewis’s theory that fours and eights are unlucky in Hugo’s numerology):

The tone of “The Year 1817,″ of characterizing a time through lists of things--mostly ephemeral, insignificant things--associated with it persists through both chapters: the Oscars/Arthurs digression, the paragraph on how railroads have changed Paris’s conception of the countryside, the descriptions of fashions and hairstyles. The tonal similarity sets us up right away to look for more significant things in these catalogs--possibly for things whose significance is downplayed or unrecognized.

I think we get one of these in the aside that Fantine has no baptismal name, because she was born under the Directory--which, in 1817, puts her age between 18 and 22. Favourite, the Old One at 23, is definitely older than the Directory but the other two aren’t necessarily; and it’s implied that they don’t have much more family than Favourite, either. But Fantine is the one who is “brought forth from the heart of the people”—a child of France, and of no one else.

I think we can pretty safely assume that, just as Cosette appears to have been conceived around Waterloo, Fantine appears to have been born around the time Valjean went to prison—she’s the child of France under Napoleon’s ascendency. And looked at that way, “The Year 1817” makes a lot more sense. It’s France’s abandonment of Napoleon and the last vestiges of the revolution, seen through fashions and daily life and personal hypocrisy.

Of course Fantine is about to get jilted, and in the pettiest way possible.

Stray Observations:

—Courfeyrac is the character who is canonically compared to Tholomyès, but in his introduction he comes off as the anti-Lesgle: balding, ironic, unlucky (in his health) but cheerful about it, and—though we don’t know it yet—willing to go to great lengths for a joke. The difference being that Lesgle’s jokes are (1) funny, and (2) not at anyone’s expense but his own.

—“Listolier and Fameuil, discussing their professors, explained to Fantine the difference between M. Delvincourt and M. Blondeau.” Both of whom will still be there eleven years from now when we meet our next set of law students. —Fantine’s initial description echoes Enjolras’s very strongly, down to the marble/statue descriptors. And the repeated stress on modesty and chastity. Which I think has just broken down the last of my resistance to considering canon-era Enjolras ship fic as canon compliant. If Fantine can be canonically praised for some inherent quality of virginity, regardless of how much actual sex she is having, then so can Enjolras, dammit.

--There’s a lot to say about Fantine’s wisdom and simplicity, and I’m going to come back to it after the next couple of chapters. But right from the start, her lack of artifice—or of the ability to expect or understand it in others—is shown as the source of her wisdom, or at least as inextricable from it. I feel like this is another thing that links her with Enjolras: two characters who meet the world with radical transparency, and expect the same, and are righteously angry not to get it.

#brickclub #lm 1.3.1 #lm 1.3.2 #lm 1.3.3

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litcratura · 4 years

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WITHIN KINGDOMS COLLIDE—chapter one

Author note : this probably wont happen a lot but this is the first chapter already. This will contain more information on the characters! I hope you will enjoy this

Trigger warnings: talk of death, strong language, cursing, and coughing

Wordscount: 2598 words

@drxmaqceen

She slept for what felt like hours, yet she was awoken by the gentle touch of one of the maids. “My lady, I have brought you bread and some meat.” The woman said sweetly. She looked around 24. Allison sat up to indeed see a silver platter with bread and meat. It looked incredibly tender and Allison felt her mouth water almost immediately. There was a small glass on the plate. Filled with the finest sea salt. “Thank you, you can leave now” Allison spoke kindly . she ate the bread, tearing of pieces and dipping it into the salt. As well as the tender meat. That ripped off just by her fork.she ate for a moment in silence. Still not truly comprehending that she was now in the land of kind Laoghaire.

She then heard a knock and looked up. “yes?” She asked as the door opened. Arya opened the door. She had changed her white gown for a ed one. It made her look beautiful and fierce. And they were her father; the true king his colours. “I made you a dress. A while ago; I knew you were coming. I hope they fit. I heard that you preferred simple gowns.” She held up a beautiful light blue gown. There was a corset with it too. Floral and beautiful. There were green and blue embroideries. “It Is really beautiful Arya” she got up and touched the soft fabric of the dress. “I can help you into it after you’ve had a bath” Arya suggested. Allison gave a nod as she unclothed herself. Her back carried flowers. Most of them were closed and pink. Others were open and carried all the colours of the rainbow. They were a mark of her fertility. A mark most people didn’t even know existed cause she hid them magically. The bath was nice and warm. Taking care of this eternal cold she felt inside. She scrubbed her body. Taking care of the dirt that was sticking to her skin. She washed her red curls that always popped out more when her hair was wet.

As she got back into her main chambers Arya helped brushing her hair. Taking care her clothes were on and all in place. The corset Arya had made her didn’t push against her skin as hard as the other corsets had. The corset laid beautifully on her chest and despite her curves now being visible they were covered regardless. “I love it” Allison said—looking into the mirror. Her hair as orange as it was fell into a beautiful curls on her shoulders. Yet the back had been pinned and clipped with a butterfly clip. So it was half up and half down. Her eyes were like gold which fit with the embroidery in the corset as well. “Thank you, Arya” Allison said and hugged the princess.”now we must go downstairs. The king wants to meet you and so does Lady Thorne” Arya took Allison her arms.

There were so many stairs and steps that she felt like she would never get used to them. Though this dress wasn’t half as heavy as the ones she wore at home had been; this castle was a lot bigger than her own home had once been. It was a lot darker despite there being so many windows. It seemed as if the king did not enjoy light inside his castle and there for kept all the windows closed. The ones that were open had beautiful stained glass with the colours green and bronze. As well as some blue. “The queen used to be from the north” Arya explained. Ophelia Thorne as well had been a beautiful woman. Strong. She had had a sister and had only come to the castle to assist with healing. A job her mother Agnes had already taken. But the king fell in love with her. More than he had once loved his almost wife. Who nobody knew the name of. After she and the king had married they had had the twin brothers Tristan and Calum. And she had passed away when the twins were eight. Of an unknown illness. Allison had never known the woman had been from her home. “So that explains the blue” Allison muttered as Arya nodded. The great hall was lit with just candles. It had a long wooden table in the middle of it. With places to seat 18 people. The king sat at its head.

Sebastian Laoghaire wasn’t necessarily unattractive. He was a bald man with deep blue eyes. His arms muscular. He sat straight and with stature. He was a charismatic man; Allison had to give him that. “Lady Chevron. You grew up beautifully” the king stood up. Standing he had to be almost two metres tall. He bowed for the girl and she returned the bow. “It’s a shame I already married off my boys” the man said in an almost believable way. Yet she knew he wouldn’t even think of her as high in status. He got closer to the girl and kissed her on the cheek. “You will be a healer correct?” “Yes your grace” remind him of his status; she had been told many times. He didn’t like people doubting his being of a king. “Too bad you weren’t going to be a whore.. you would’ve done better” Sebastian said harshly. Allison took a goblet of wine and smelled it before drinking the wine fast. “It was a pleasure to meet you Allison. Now go” the king demanded. And so she left.

“Where are his sons?” Allison asked Arya as Arya whisked her away to Agnes her office. “There is going to be a war soon. They are training on fields for three weeks. Your brother is there as well” “Riley? But he never said goodbye” this seemed to hit the girl hard in her chest. Her brother promised to protect her; and now he wasn’t even here. “Its just a training. Besides your father has the best soldiers after all, he will return before you know it Allison. And he will be back this evening already. The three weeks are done” that’s why there had been a rush. Allison held her skirts walking up another of stairs. “Why is there going to be a war? And with who?” Allison never could help these questions. They often escaped her mouth before she could even stop them. “There is a man in a city close by and…Sebastian is sure he will start a war. So they’ll fight before the others can attack” she explained as best as she could. Which made Allison shake her head in an almost annoyance.

The office of the healer smelled of herbs and spices. An older woman; her hair was turning gray. She had a few wrinkles yet as soon as the door opened fully she looked up. “Is that Allison Chevron?” She asked. Putting down her herbs as she wiped her hands clean on the apron she wore. “Agnes” Allison smiled. It had been years since Allison had seen Agnes but she felt like a grandmother to her. Agnes hugged the girl as she smiled. “You will be a fine healer. I can see that in your eyes.’ Agnes said and then doubled over coughing. Yet held up her hand. “Just old age dearest. I am fine” she reassured the girl. Whose eyes were big with worry almost immediately. “Now how would you treat a common cold” “Eucalyptus, mint, honey. Put it into a tea. Maybe a spell for fast healing but that’s only if the cold is severe. And some lavender for rest.”Agnes nodded and handed her an apron before looking up at Arya. “Do you want to help, dearest?” Arya shook her head. “I have to get back to sowing. And I might go on a walk, but thank you Agnes” Arya assured her as Agnes just gave her a sweet nod.

Allison boiled the water and made her first potion; one against the common cold. Like her mother had taught her she wrote it down in her leather notebook. With small drawings of each herb. And of what container to best keep it in. This went into a small round bottle. Sealed with yarn. It was good for about two weeks. She made seven jars and put them in her own little chest. It was a wooden one that had her name carved into it. Agnes had helped her. Telling her how long each herb should boil before it would properly work. She kept small notes of this before the afternoon was done. First returning to her own chambers when Arya walked into her room again. “Are you excited tor the feast?” Feast? She hadn’t heard of a feast. The confusion must have been readable on her face because Arya let out a small chuckle. “Because the princes are returning there will be a feast. And because I know you don’t like maids I thought we would get dolled up together” Arya said kindly. Allison nodded and just looked at Arya. “Are you excited to see your husband again?” Allison asked her curiously. Arya immediately nodded. Smiling from ear to ear. “I always miss him when he goes away again to train. But the full moon fell between the training so he had to go. He had to take care that nothing would go wrong” “so it is true? The king—“ “Don’t finish that sentence, but yes, it is true” Allison her eyes widened at those words. She couldn’t believe a father would actually do that to his own children. “But tonight they will return. And there will be music. Maybe you will find someone to dance with” Arya suggested. Allison let out a small laugh. “My lady I will not dance with anyone; I’ll bash their toes” Arya sighed annoyed and undid Allison her corset. “I brought you a new dress. Its darker blue with gold. Much more fitting for dinner” “What will you be wearing?” “A dark green dress. My husband loves the colour on me and I usually wear it when he returns” she said as she showed the two dresses.

Allison had never changed as much in a day as she had done now. She usually wore one dress and it usually was less luxurious than what she was wearing now. The nights here were colder too so the silk was a bit more thick. The corset revealed her breasts just a bit more but not as much as the other ladies their breasts were revealed. Her hair was now completely down yet she had a small diadem in her hair. Not a crown but it was beautiful. It had blue flowers made of glass and silver, “you look like royalty. Just like you are. You have a beautiful bodyAllison; no shame to show it off sometimes” Arya told her seriously. Her green dress was even more define. The dress was green with bronze and silver embroidery. It revealed her breasts but not in a way that would make her look like a hooker allison thought. She actually truly looked like a princess. “Your husband won’t be able to take his eyes or hands off of you” Arya chuckled and went “that’s entirely the point Allison.”

They waited outside together. The night was clear and the stars glittered in the sky like small diamonds. Or glitters. For a moment Allison was reminded of home. The way the scars glittered there too. A small shiver went down her spine when she heard the kings footsteps behind her. These big and heavy footsteps. she didn’t hate the king but she wasn’t fond of him either. He looked around and then stood before them. Waiting for his puppets. Allison watched as at least hundreds of men marched their way forward. Some on horses; some just walking. The princes sat in the front. Tristan Laoghaire was a tall man; he used to be a lot more slender but ever since he trained his muscles were quite big. He had long ink black hair and his eyes were focused on return home. His horse too was black. He had a scar on his eyebrow. And besides him his brother rode. He had a white horse. He was a bit smaller than tristan yet was just as masculine. He rode faster yet had to keep himself in. His hair was a kind of brown that looked a bit red in the light of fire. Some said he looked a lot like his mother had once looked. And then they all halted before the king. Riley was walking. He had dirt all over his arms yet he seemed quite immune with himself. The king and Tristan exchanged words and everyone was ordered back inside.

Inside it smelled define. Like warm meats and good vegetables. Like foods that carried spices with them. There were more fires burning inside. Allison turned to Arya “what did Tristan tell Sebastian?” “That they’d all bathe before joining the feast” she explained as she pointed to a chair. “Your brother will be on your left and Calum on your right. Next to the king.” She said as Allison nodded. Yet everyone remained standing until the army got to the table. And everyone clapped for their warriors. Even if it had just been training; they would be their protectors. Their guiders. Tristan got to his wife and kissed her as Calum got to his chair and turned to Allison. “It has been a long time, Allison” Calum said and kissed her hand. Tristan then looked to the table and clapped his hands. “Sit and eat” there were more tables to seat all soldiers. Yet on the main table the important people were seated. Allison didn’t count herself as important. She was after all just going to be a healer. “We found someone on the training field. A white wolf” Riley told Allison. “A female and up until she saw you she was wailing and howling, wasn’t she Calum? Riley asked. Calum nodded as he ate some of the chicken. “You could’ve told me about the training earlier you know” Allison argued her brother who laughed a bit. “You were barely ready yesterday, besides I trained at home all the time” Allison couldn’t argue her brother on this as she put some mashed potatoes on her plate.

After the feast people danced and laughed. Most soldiers drank as if they hadn’t been able to in months. Tristan and Arya disappeared after 20 minutes to do whatever they went off to do. And Allison stood in the corner; holding her goblet. Eventually she felt a hand on her shoulder. Her hand bawling already yet she then heard “you want to see the wolf?” Riley asked her. The nod she gave was fast. The wolf was a family symbol but not just that; it was her favourite animal.

They walked to Riley his chamber. His room had his weapons stacked onto the wall, and the wolf sat in the middle of the room. As soon as she saw Allison she walked over to her. Allison kneeled and pet the wolf her fur. “She seems a lot calmer with you, she almost bit me and she bit Calum in his hand” “Did Calum take care of it?” Allison asked. Still petting the wolf. “Soldiers don’t take care of things unless forced to. And otherwise they’ll accept a lost limb” Riley said seriously. “Her name shall be Lyall.”Allison interrupted. “And she is mine”

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sonichkkaaascreams · 4 years

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Mountain with a Flower Crown (chapter 1)

Just a super long one shot that is broken into a bunch of parts

Zaraki Kenapchi X OC Yamase Yasu

wordcount: 3090~

this is the fist part instalation of Mountain With A Flower Crown. this was inspire by post made by @bleachhaven and @shadowsnlace who both made posts regarding Kenpachi and an S/O who is larger than him. I use their headcanons as inspirational sparks to my own greedy little imagination.

Kenpachi may seem a little off but eh, what can I do about it. it just happened. also the starting point of this oneshot came to me in a hormonal fever dream. this is gonna be a super fudging long thing. i think it may be a very well around 6 to 8 chapters knock on wood to keep up my writing mojou.

enjoy ;) and please let me know what you think. XP

Yamase Yasu prided herself on being an early riser. She had practiced the discipline of waking up before sunrise to another day of hard work no matter how tired she may be from an early age. As such, her current circumstances were less than ideal.

She was not only awake, forced to endure the bright rays of the sun right in her eyes and listen to the damned feathery monsters sing annoyingly but also she was required to stay still and not move an inch.

Unlike her, her beloved spouse was sound asleep free from all the worries of office work. She greatly envied the man’s ability to not only sleep through the annoying chirping of birds but also all the way through the morning to evening regardless of the loud ruckus his squad members made. The only thing that would make him open his eyes was if she moved about. Witch is why despite her dire need to get up, stretch, make breakfast for an entire squadron of men who can’t take care of themselves properly and go to her own squad office to work; she was laying on their futon and fighting the urge to coo at the slumbering beast.

Contrary to the common belief of those who shared a futon or a roof with Zaraki Kenpachi, he is not by any means a light sleeper. Take away the threat of the man rolling on top of his partners and smothering them to death and the man sleeps like a bear through winter. And that extra layer of peace and ease showed on his face and the way he slept.

For one, he was sprawled on top of her with no care in the world. No matter how neatly or sweetly they sleep he always finds a way to roll over her, using her chest or stomach as his pillow. And so long he didn’t drool on her she wouldn’t mind it. Another sign that he was deep asleep was the light yet deep and rattling snores. And even those were endearing and cute.

This morning however it seemed her spouse was hellbent in testing her patience – witch she was never renowned for – he was not only sleeping with a slighting parted lips, lightly snoring, and had done this absolutely cute thing where he held a fistful of her sleeping Yukata, but also his stupid and unreasonably soft hair was fanned out over her, tickling her skin.

She is only but a mere woman. She is flawed and weak to temptation. Especially one as sweet and divine as this one. Not many would describe the 11th captain of the 11th division who just happens to be the sole successor of Kenpachi Yachiru cute. But at the moment that was the only word she knew of, that could capture his peaceful slumber - And until someone made a better word her husband had to deal with being called so – as mentioned Yamase Yasu as disciplined as she claimed to be, was only a mere woman and of course, she gave in to the divine temptation and ran her fingers in her husband’s hair and feel the silky soft yet soapy dry hair – he refused to use any proper hair product and she had no right to complain since she was no better – running her fingers a little higher she reached his scalp and began to massage his head. Feeling every secret scar that charcoal black mane hid. And taking inventory of the one or two gray hair she would find.

“hmmm.” The rumbling groan of his dry throat rattled her bones and resonated in her skull. How she truly found his voice calming. “you’re awake.”

“Sorry I woke you up. I couldn’t resist.” Her voice equally cracked and dry was louder and clearer than his own. Zaraki Kenpachi refused to admit that even after 100 years of married life, her voice still made his heart race.

“I’m not complaining.”

With a grunt, he pushed himself up and pulled himself up towards her face. His unkempt mane falling around them like a curtain of privacy against the prying eyes of the sun and those birds – that Yasu, who also prided herself on being ‘peaceful’ wanted to kill one by one if they didn’t shut up and let her listen to Kenpachi’s voice and NOTHING else – it was a solid minute or two of them just staring at each other and by any bystanders, it was not only unromantic but also rather unsettling to have the beastly captain Zaraki stare at them for long periods. Usually, a glance was enough to make grown men lose control of their bladers. For this fated pair, however, this was a ritualistic habit of cataloging every scar and wrinkle the other had gained.

The small scars on her face, the slightly chipped and torn lip, the small scar and the smaller bald patch it had resulted, a barely visible scar on her eyebrow, the shallow wrinkles around her eyes resulted by squinting at the sun, and the visible laugh line, the small blue veins he could see if he paid attention and the way every muscle twitched.

“it’s a bit late for you to be still in bed.” He stated matter of factly in a way that only she would realize what it meant. It’s a bit late for you to still be in bed meant: did you sleep in again because you didn’t want to wake me up. And only she knew his matter-of-fact tone was not an observation or a statement but a self-condemnation.

“why captain Zaraki! You think me so cruel that I would up and leave my beloved husband cold in the morning to go to work? Without saying good morning?”

His grunt made evident that her teasing was effective. With a smile she continued to tease as she wrapped her iron grip around his waist and slide a finger on the arch of his back – she couldn’t bring herself to call anything on this man small even to describe the small of his back – “you’re not just a warm body my dear. I love to wake up to see you still asleep so peacefully. You look so cute I want to eat you up.” She giggled. The Mountain woman of Gotei, in all her 8’8 glory, giggled. “I love it when I get to run my hands in your soft hair and take in your scent and have your head in the crook of my ne-AAHH…” her insufferable cooing was brought to an abrupt end when the strongest Kenpachi hit her in the face with a pillow. Using her initial shock as a distraction he rolled off of her and buried his face in the pillow to cover the ever-growing deep blush that dusted his face. It wasn’t a feminine blush rather it was a dark, red almost brownish. And he was not cute. By gods, he was NoT CuTe. AT ALL. HE WAS THE CAPTAIN OF SQUAD 11 AND HE WAS NOT CUTE GODDAMIT. Well, at least he’s not cute as far as anyone else is concerned.

Laughing loudly she rolled and embraced her husband in her arms, after 100 years of marriage and 50 more years of knowing the woman beforehand, it still amazes him how easily he is held in her arms. How well fitted his face is in her neck and how safe it all feels. Like he's a scrawny child all over again back in Zaraki woods but this time he’s safe and he doesn’t have to sleep with one eye open or dig himself a hole under a tree for warmth, hell he doesn’t even need to hug his sword for safety and safekeeping. No, he can just sleep, or rest, or just lean in the warm embrace and drown himself in the scent of sea salt, peaches and ink. Completely safe and loved. He’d never tell her that, no, he’ll take it to his grave and beyond. But he doesn’t need to. She doesn’t need him to. The simple soft hum that rumbles in his chest and the long, deep exhale on her throat says more than enough.

“you’d think after this long of a time, you’d be used to my pampering chi-chi.” She cooed at him barring her nose in his hair. She loved how he always smelled so distinctly him. Just him. Nothing ever changed his scent. His sweat, his stupid cheap dry soap – that she also used because she is too busy to use the shampoo and hair conditioner and all the other dumb things lieutenant Matsumoto gives her every year for her birthday – and woods, the special pine woods only found in Zaraki. He always smells of those. And if he comes back from missions, blood. The metallic rusty smell of blood that always compelled her to ask for a full day off from her captain immediately to attend to her… private needs with her husband.

“Unfortunately, love of my life, you are awake which means I have no excuse to stay in bed any longer. And if you and the boys want breakfast I better shake a leg.” She hummed as she left chaste kisses over his face.

“Fuck them, the bastards can go eat shit for all I care.” He snarled. How dare they and their needs take his wife from his bed?

“Honey, you need breakfast as well.”

“No I don’t.” he – dare she say the word? – whined like a bratty child and gripped at her even harder. It wasn’t even a sexual groping, he just really really wanted the warm embrace to last longer. But from past experiences she knew if she catered to him any longer she would most likely not leave this room for about another years or so. And so as the sensible wife of the squad 11 she wiggled into a comfortable position and willed herself to her feet. Her 2 feet shorter husband refusing to let go, hung from her neck.

“chi-chi, light of my life please don’t swing from my neck.” She lovingly stroked his back and hair beckoning him to be a little more mature. Earning a guttural, loud, ground shaking, ear-piercing growl as he tightened his equally iron grip. “ at least wrap your legs around my waist so I wouldn’t trip and fall on you. you wouldn’t want to explain to Isane-Chan WHY you have a broken arm early in the morning again…. Right?

Given the choice of letting go of his precious peach-scented giantess and holding on to her like a monkey’s babe, you’d think the strongest Kenpachi would hold on to his dignity and let go. But no.

The man had gone nearly 800 something years of his life touch starved with no real understanding of affection, the moment his beloved Yasu had begun to shower him with it his mind was simply blown. ‘Is this why Yachiru always hung off of his shoulder everywhere? Is this why she always ran to his arms like a crazed boar?’ because that’s what he wants to do with her.

“She can keep her mouth shut.” He says taking in another breath full of sea salt and peaches. But finally, lets her go. It’s been 100 years for them and he knows she gets annoyed when she can’t go to her office on time. But he can sure make it difficult for her as he is still very much salty that she chose squad 10 over his own. “the hell you chose the Lil' brat over meh?” he had thrashed and at one point picked a fight with everyone from squad 10 – the captain in question, the Lil' brat. Refused to indulge her suiter at the time. – “you coming home earlier today? for lunch I mean.”

Home. Another thing that made her heart flutter and bounces about like a lamb, is Kenpachi referring to squad 11 barracks as home. He had only started calling the place their HOME about 30 years into their marriage and Yasu firmly believed to this day he doesn’t realize he started doing so and if she pointed it out he would instantly stop.

“Ahh, no. I promised to go to this new ramen stand that’s opened recently with Momo and others.” She smiled apologetically as she followed him to the adjoined captain’s bathroom. Kenpachi fast to strip to wash off before entering the basin of warm water and Yasu, who hated showering in the morning simply brushed her rust-colored crow’s nest, braiding the gray strands and adding her handmade decorations. Smiling at the second set of decorations that belonged to her beloved. They were much simpler and significantly less intricate than hers – just a few sharp wolf teeth and hawk feathers and one or two polished stones kept for special occasions such as date nights – which was just a stroll and wrestle in the woods and sex in the wilds night – and birthdays – the same as date nights but less walking, more sex and a lot steamier plus a gift is given as well –

“I should seriously get going love, I won't be home for lunch but I’ll try to be home for dinner earlier so we can wrestle.” She smiled her big kind stupidly beautiful smile that made Kenpachi avert his eyes to avoid another humiliating blushing event. And he would have succeeded if Yamase Yasu, the mountain of squad 10 hadn’t bent down – he still can’t wrap his braid around the fact that she has to bend down for him – and placed a gentle kiss on his forehead.

He deemed himself lucky that she left and didn’t see how that simple cherishing act turned his whole being into mush. And also very unlucky because now that she had departed for the barracks kitchen, he was left alone to deal with the aftermath of looking at her swaying hips in a thin, light white Yukata. As a married man, he should not have to deal with this predicament alone, however, he realized soon after actually living with Yasu under the same roof that, being an obstacle between her and her career is a fool's errand and it’s best if she is left to manage her time and duties herself. In fact, he begrudgingly admits, their afternoon wrestling is far more enjoyable than any morning quicky he could convince her into.

On the other side of the barracks, newly dressed in formal black Shikaushou, Ymase Yasu was already in the middle of preparing breakfast for her hundreds of beloved morons. Ymichika, being an early riser himself was also present. Having retired from his morning shower he was enjoying a cup of tea as he helped Yasu warm up her habitual – albeit horrid and unsightly – blood milk. “you don’t have to help you know. I can manage myself.” She would politely say, which was her way of saying ‘please get out of my way.’ She had already stepped on his poor dainty feet and her mobility was further reduced by being careful not to barrel into the small, dainty fellow. “I know. I want to help dear. You don’t let me take care of your hair so I thought I’d do something else.”

Oh, god. Please no. “ Yumichika, dear, I already told you, I don’t care for hair. It’s fine as it is. And you don’t need to help me in the kitchen.”

“what she really means is that you’re small and get in her way. Stay around and she might accidentally step on ya like a bug.” Madarame Ikkaku, her husband's lieutenant and right-hand man – and in her personal opinion, the closest thing Kenpachi has to an actual friend. – may be rude and insufferable with absolute no table manners but she could always rely on him to tell the mean things she didn’t want to say.

“that’s one way of putting it.” She smiled, offering him a full plate of the most protein-filled breakfast a man could ever dream of. “I put extra spinach, berries, and eggs for you; I hear it’s good for hair growth.” She adoringly said as she patted the lieutenant's shoulder. Making Ikkaku break his chop-sticks. Oh, how he wished he could kick her ass. Unfortunately, his captain would kill him if he so much as looked at her with ill intent. – something about her not partaking in violence witch was dumb, he’d seen the way they ‘wrestle’ once by complete accident and the image that’s unfortunately burned in his mind is nothing if not violent and he hears things. Violent-sounding things. How is she not into violence when she married him?- he shouldn’t think about his captain’s wife that way, he tells himself. And instead says:” I’m not bald…my head is shaved.” A vein popping on his head.

“I didn’t say you were.” She deadpans causing Yumichika to snort into his tea. “just because I’ve never seen you shave your head, or your hair to grow out – even after spending time on missions or never seen you in possession of a single strand of hair – anywhere – doesn’t mean I said you’re bald.”

Ikkaku Madarame respects his captain greatly. Sometimes, however, he thinks he married a devious demon.

“you take that back you damn Yama-Oni.” He cries out attempting to draw out his sword but is held back by Yumichika who is using his mastery over his eyebrows to tell Yasu to ‘please don’t bully him.’

“mountain- demon? Now that’s a new insult. I should write this one down.” She happily sings out as she prepares the last bits of breakfast and proceeds to ring the bells of the kitchen. Informing the squad that their breakfast is now served.

Yamase Yasu is an eternal pain in Ikkaku madarame's behind, but he admits if it weren’t for her food that this squad would have A) starved to death and B) would have slept till evening. She managed to convince them to get up early and to eat a healthy diet. What was it that Yumichika had said? Something about a woman’s touch? The berries are too tasty for him to care for anything else.

And as she is about to leave to her own squad, to the one she actually works at, the members of the loudest, rudest, nastiest squad in Gotei all bow and thank Yamase-san. And the new ones who are still shy around the giantess bow and thank their ‘Oujou-sama’ which makes him want to laugh.

Yeah…a woman’s touch. Or something.

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skvaderarts · 4 years

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Chapter Sixteen: Epiphany

You can check out the Masterlist Here for more links to places to read!

Chapter Sixteen: Epiphany

Note: Thanks for the comments as always! As mentioned, this chapter is a little shorter than normal, but the next few will more than make up for it. I just didn’t want to drag this sequence out so that we could get to the exciting part sooner. You don’t want to make things too bogged down. Enjoy and get hyped for the next chapter… It’s been a nightmare to write lol! Sorry for any mistakes. It was a long night.

-~-

Things had been relatively quiet for the last little while, Agnus’s alchemical monstrosities content with roaming the entryway aimlessly in almost total silence for the time being. While the magical seal on the door to the library and the three separate sets of retractable bars that shielded the doorway from further attacks were more than likely enough to keep the artificial demons at bay, there was still a certain amount of apprehension as to their current level of security. Considering the fact that the Cutlass and Gladius, much like the seal itself (presumably), were products of the Order and their unscrupulous experiments, their ability to gain entry into the room was questionable at the best. And a product of that uncertainty was a permeating sense of urgency in regardless to finding a relatively safe way out of Fortuna Castle before things escalated to a level that they couldn’t control.

As the silence in the air brewed tension between them, V glanced over his shoulder from the second story balcony. After Nero had helped him reach the upper section of the library, the younger devil hunter had retired to the far corner of the room, his attention fixed upon some sort of mechanical contraption. It was a welcome change, at least for the time being. While V was indeed flattered that Nero had been so worried about the laceration that he had received during their mad dash to reach the library, he wasn’t accustomed to having someone worry over him. It was touching; even somewhat flattering… but not something he was entirely comfortable with. V’s rational mind told him that this was normal, and he acknowledged it readily, more than able to comprehend the concept of platonic familial concern. But, despite the fact that he knew there was nothing abnormal about having Nero worry over him (especially when he had good reason too) he still couldn’t stand it.

The young summoner took a moment to mentally chastise himself for his illogical thought process. Of course he didn’t like it. He wasn’t supposed to. Having other people be concerned about him wasn’t meant to be an enjoyable process. He doubted that Nero enjoyed worrying about him either. Nothing about the situation that the pair of brothers currently found themselves in was comfortable or reassuring. In fact, from what the longer white-haired man could tell, they currently had no way of leaving the room that they were trapped in. It was a double-edged sword in that regard. Nothing in, nothing out; the only threat being the very thing that kept other threats at bay. It was quite ironic in an almost poetic sort of way. V couldn’t help but find humor in their possible damnation. While the bleeding from his injury had indeed slowed and was more than likely trivial in the eyes of proper medical care, they needed to actually leave the castle for first aid to take place. But in the meantime, he could simply count himself lucky. The demon that had dealt this wound was composed almost entirely of sharp edges. It was a miracle that he stood here now, reading these books in search of the answers he had inadvertently risked both of their lives for.

As V combed through the pages of the worn-out old book he held in his hand, his attention was drawn back to Nero. The younger of the two had just cursed quite loudly, clearly fed up with the piece of almost steampunk like piece of machinery he had been tinkering with for nearly an hour. V considered inquiring as to the nature of the problem, but relented, acutely aware that he more than likely had nothing insightful to add to the dilemma. It was odd for him to be so far out of the loop, but to say that he thought he knew everything would be a bald-faced lie. No one knew absolutely everything that there was to know. This just happened to be one of the rare instances where he had no idea what was going on. He redirected his attention back to the book, closing it and placing it back in its proper place on the bookshelf. While V was aware of the fact that there was no one else around to see him misplace it and that they were under more than a small amount of time pressure, he simply didn’t feel right just laying the book down somewhere. It wasn’t’ the right thing to do and that wasn’t who he was. He would find the time necessary to make sure that he left this place in at least the same condition that he had found it.

V walked down the row of bookcases in front of him, dragging his finger idly down the spines of the books as he went. At least half of the works contained in this room were not written in English, and many of the ones that were had been transcribed in very old classical English or by hand, making them a trial by fire to read. Much of it was in either Latin or Adamic; the former he had some basic comprehension of, the latter less so. Although his love of literature had lent him an excellent grasp of written languages, this was testing his skills somewhat more than he would like. As he glanced over the books in his search for one that he might be able to actually decipher, his finger brushed over the cover of a sizable tome. The words on the cover caught his eye, but the spine was somewhat faded. He would need to remove this one from the shelf and take a better look at it.

Upon removing the tome from the self, he took notice of several qualities it possessed. The book was weighty and delicate, clearly one of the oldest texts in this library. The leather binding had held true for who knew how long, the paper quite aged and much more coarse than what he was accustomed to. Surprisingly elegant handwriting lined each page of the book, several detailed illustrations accompanied by even more meandering descriptions and instructions practically overflowed from each page. It was all quite fascinating to look at if he was being honest. Could he keep this book? Would anyone notice or even care if he took it home with him to give a more thorough examination? He flipped the pages carefully until he reached the cover. When he had first opened it, it had automatically gone to the middle of the book. This was presumably due to the way it had been bound, but that wasn’t entirely important at the moment.

“Dux Connexionem Referat Inferis” The title of the text flowed effortlessly from his mouth as he traced the words with his finger, taking a moment to try and remember what all the words meant,” Yes… this may prove useful after all.”

Nero glanced up from his position on the floor below, his focus still clearly on the Gyro Blade he was currently knelt down in front of. “You know what that says, V?”

V shrugged slightly as he flipped through what seemed to be an overview of sorts, introducing it’s audience to the different topics contained within its pages. The headings were all written with different mediums, signifying that they had been added gradually over the course of the writer’s lifetime. Oddly enough, the first few dozen pages did not contain the elegant script that he had seen in the middle of the book. Was this the work of multiple authors? After a moment he nodded to himself. Much to his enjoyment, this book contained information on the nature of familiar contracts and something else that seemed to pertain to artificial demons.

“I believe this may be some sort of encyclopedia or index. It makes mention of a Hellgate on an island that periodically changes location and a demon emperor,” He said as he turned the pages, his eyes fixed upon the writing they contained,” While I don’t think I have time to decipher this entire book just yet, it may have the answers I was looking for. There is some mention of Nightmare’s conception.”

Nero gestured to the empty room, laughing to himself slightly. Nightmare was one of his summons, right? How powerful did it need to be to get mentioned in a book that old? “Right now we have nothing but time. Unless I can get this stupid thing working,” Nero said as he gesured irritatedly towards the Gyro Blade,” We aren’t going anywhere. Does that book say anything about this thing?”

V used his finger to bookmark the page before turning back to the table of contents, taking a moment to look it over. After a moment, he shook his head.

“It mentions something about an alchemical substance called Anima Mercury in this article about Quicksilver, but I can’t quite make out anything specific aside from the fact that they share similar properties,” He looked up for a moment, an incredulous look plastered across his face,” I don’t have any answers for you, unfortunately. Have you tried kicking it?”

The youngest descendant of Sparda stared at his older brother blankly for a moment, his neck craning sideways. Had V just told a joke at a time like this? No, surely he had just heard him wrong. He had to be mistaken. The eldest of the two seemed to key into his younger counterpart’s train of thought, gesturing with his outstretched hand towards the contraption in question. “I’m quite serious. Apparently this device is powered by kinetic energy. That is a stipulation of the Animal Mercury. It grants sentience, but not locomotion. If you have previously moved the device, then I can only assume that-”

Before V could finish his explanation, Nero drew Req Queen and slammed it downward towards the mechanical spinning top esque device before him, kicking it as he did so for good measure. The spinning blades within folded outward at the top and the machine lifted up off of the ground, hovering in place as if waiting for further simulation. Nero stared at it blankly as V looked down at him, clearly fascinated by now functional Gyro Blade. He could tell by the look on Nero’s face that he hadn’t expected the device to actually move.

Upon realizing that the device actually functioned, Nero took a few steps back and charged forward, launching himself feet first into the device. It rocked forward, crashing into the door of the library with a loud bang. The seal guarding the door shattered and the bars opened automatically, allowing them to finally exit the building. V slipped down from the upper level and landed on one of the floor dividers, gaining him a raised eyebrow from Nero and a thoroughly displeased side as his wound pulled slightly and he began to bleed a bit more. It was nothing catastrophic, but it was uncomfortable, to say the least. Nero offered him a hand and, after taking a moment to consider his alternative options, V decided to take him up on the offer, at least for the time being. In this particular instance, he was once again reminded of how much he missed his cane. It would be particularly useful at the moment. With that, the two of them exited the library, V taking a moment to tuck the book into one of the coat’s interior pockets. He would take the time to look it over more thoroughly once they were safely within the walls of Nero’s charming little home again.

They made their way down the balcony and back into the art gallery, noting the distinct lack of Cutlass and Gladius as they went. It was enough to raise an uncomfortable feeling within V, piquing his interest. While he could easily imagine that they had retreated, it was still very strange to see barely any traces of them. Their previous assault had been a sheer act of chaotic willpower, one that they had very narrowly overcome. It was imperative that they figure out where they had gone and either slip past them or use their combined problem solving skills to get the drop on them.

So basically they were going with plan A.

From the moment they stepped foot into the lobby, they were struck by the overwhelming silence that permeated the room. There were no demons in here like there had been a short while ago. Well, at least none that were alive. A pile of dead remnants was stacked in the middle of the first floor, a few stray demons scattered about. It seemed that they had been attacked all at once while a few outliers had actually noticed the threat and had tried to protect their collective to no avail. The Cutlass had been eradicated with ruthless efficiency, and the Gladius seemed to have tried to flee back into the labs before the attack had ended them once and for all. This was evident by the sheer number of them that laid dead on the stairs that led up to the opening to the lab behind the painting.

Something wasn’t right here…

As they reached the bottom of the steps and took a step towards the front entrance, V stopped a moment. He couldn’t tell if it was his general condition or his injuries, but he felt substantially weaker all of a sudden. It was as if all the energy had been sucked from his body in that very instant. Nero grappled the sudden shift in their collective center of balance, wrapping his right arm around V to try and help him steady himself. He clearly didn’t look well. A sudden noise from in front of them drew his attention, and what he saw took him off guard. About a dozen individuals in black coats had made themselves visible to them, presumably the people responsible for the dead demons that littered the room. One of them stepped forward, gesturing towards them.

“We’ve been looking for you.” The hooded man said as he lowered his hood to allow his hair to be freed and his face to become visible. “You’re quite hard to track down. It took us several days. Some sort of ward, I presume?”

Nero shot them a defensive look, glancing cautiously at V who seemed to be trying to shake off the sudden dizziness that plagued him. “Were not in a talking mood right now, so you’re going to have to forgive us but we’re not sticking around.”

The hooded individuals seemed incensed by the comment, taking defensive stances as though they were preparing to attack. The leader, the tall man from before, placed his hands in his pockets and stretched, seemingly unafraid. “Terribly sorry, I must not have been clear. Our master requires an audience with him.”

He gestured towards V, nodding. The taller of the two was starting to come out of his dizzy spell, so he looked up from the floor and shook his head in denial. There was absolutely no way either of them was going with these mystery men in black coats. They sounded just like the cult V had overheard Nero reassuring Kyrie about earlier that day.

Before either party could speak further, the front gate to the castle creaked open, and a familiar woman stepped inside. Before anyone could speak, she took a defensive stance, readying herself. The cultists turned their attention to her and several of them immediately began to call forth their summons. It seemed that this group was comprised of a much higher number of summoners than the one she had taken on at the pier. The three of them could only hope they were equally as competent.

-~-

These last few chapters are going to be FUN! I’m working on them as you are reading this, so feel free to tune in on Wednesday, June 24th as we reach the climax of book one! I hoped you enjoyed this chapter despite the fact that it’s slightly shorter than normal (about 500 words) and I look forward to seeing you all next week! Stay safe out there!

#Soliloquy #V #Nero #Dante #Vergil #DMC #DMCV #DMC5 #Post DMC5

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