#instead of meeting Vincent and joining him

[frogsndogs]

ok, been thinking about Vincent Van Ghoul (as one does) and been thinking about how Mystery Inc. absolutely BUTCHERED his character. This man was not mysterious, serious or magical. He was just dramatic and annoying. And yes, Vincent is dramatic, but mysterious dramatic, not annoying dramatic. But, anyways.

I just don't like one of my favourite characters being done dirty like that so we're back with rewriting media I don't like :).

So my thoughts were along the lines of his horror movie stuff has something to do with Nekara, and some of the other demons. Maybe he was trying to stop her and one thing led to another and boom, now you're an actor and Vincent doesn't know how he got here, but being rich and famous is actually a somewhat good position to be in when you're looking for really obscure stuff. It's also good protection against some of the demons who don't want to be found. Then the essay contest.

What if Vincent was getting bored of waiting and decided to bring the demons to his front door? What if the essay contest was just him saying "yes, an evening with me - totally alone in my remote mansion where the power and security cameras fail regularly. And I would never bring weapons magic or otherwise to such a gathering of course not. Just me. Alone. In my mansion. Totally defenceless. If any demons - cough, cough - I mean fans want to hang out"

He doesn't expect anyone to actually write in. And if they do he'll just move the date inconspicuously. But apparently his producer didn't get the memo because now there are two teenagers and a dog outside his house when he's expecting thirteen of the most horrifying demons to ever walk the mortal plane to show up.

Long story short, the kids end up saving him and put one of the demons back in the chest. They decide to help him with the other 12, but not tell Velma and Fred just yet bc they want to break the whole thing to them gently.

This would obviously change how the series goes, hopefully for the better - with Vincent acting as the kids' desperately needed responsible adult.

[firewasabeast]

Just thinking about Tommy Kinard who grew up wishing he was hugged and loved like the neighbors kids were. He’d watch them run off the school bus and right into their mom or dad’s arms and be scooped up and held tight. Sometimes he could smell freshly baked cookies or a pot roast coming from their home as he’d turn the key and walk into his own house. His house where his dad would grunt at him for another beer and tell him to fix them both a frozen dinner (“just don’t eat my Salisbury steak, boy, that one’s mine”). Then one afternoon, when his dad caught him staring out the window at the neighbors all outside playing catch, he gave him a smack on the back of the head and told him to stop daydreaming. Those people were phonies who were never up to any good. Families like that don’t really exist, and they’re never as happy as they seem!

So Tommy buries away the idea he’ll have that. Stops watching the neighbors. Rolls his eyes when he does happen to catch one of their hugs. Grows a bit of a hardened shell.

Then he reaches high school and he thinks things will change now. He’ll have more freedom and friends and maybe he’ll join a club. But his dad tells him clubs are for sissies and he’s gonna be in sports instead. His dad is good friends with the football coach so he doesn’t have to try out. He’s just on the team, whether he likes it or not. And the other guys on the team are crude and constantly taunt and tease each other. Tommy doesn’t join in at first, would rather keep to himself, but that makes him an outcast and a loser and the butt of all their jokes so it’s easier to join in. His shell gets a little thicker.

Recruiters come to the school during his senior year and his grades are good, he could probably get a scholarship or two to a state university, but they promise so much. He’ll get to see the world! They have all these specialized programs he can choose from. They pay well and he’ll have the benefits forever. Most importantly, he’ll be away from his dad. The recruiter doesn’t have to work very hard that day. When Tommy leaves for basic he’s a little scared but mostly excited to be away! And the drill sergeants yell at him and taunt him just like the football team, just like his dad, but he can take it. He can and does prove them wrong.

He’s been wondering things about himself lately. Doesn’t let himself wonder very long though, or his heart races a bit too fast and he panics. There was this one time at basic where he had a moment alone and he jerked himself off but he didn’t use the Playboy magazines the other guys had hidden under their bunks. He thinks of Tyler instead. The guy who was in the bunk above him and had tan skin and muscles all over and a million dollar smile. When he was done, after he caught his breath, he got angry with himself. Put a fist through a wall and got in a good amount of trouble. But the other guys thought he did it because he wanted to show the sergeant how strong he was. They thought it was funny and kinda cool. Even later, as a pilot in Iraq, when he has a moment alone, he’s never thinking about a woman. His shell thickens more.

Then he’s out of the army and he’s becoming a firefighter and he thinks maybe this is when he can relax. So he goes and meets his captain, someone named Vincent Gerrard, and he can tell within thirty seconds of meeting him that this man is a carbon copy of his father. He hasn’t been the butt of a joke in a long time, and he sure as hell isn’t going to start back now, so he plays the game. And he plays it damn well.

These shells keep thickening and thickening until he’s not actually sure who he is anymore. He’s spent years being whoever he needs to be to survive and it’s becoming exhausting. Even when Gerrard leaves and Nash arrives, even when his smile actually starts to reach his eyes, he still feels wrong. So he makes a choice. He leaves.

He goes back to flying, which he loved in the army. The freedom of being in the sky was unlike anything else in life. He hears a coworker talk about therapy and he gives it a try. It’s uncomfortable and stressful but he goes back each week and yeah, okay, maybe it does help. He can feel his posture relaxing a bit at least.

He allows himself to be honest with himself. He looks in the mirror one night and takes a deep breath and says the words “I’m gay” for the first time and then he repeats it over and over and over again even as tears fall down his face.

All the shells are starting to crack.

He gets a call from Howie, who he would do anything for without question, and this particular ask gets him reacquainted with Hen, renewed friendship with Howie, a new friendship with Eddie, and a boyfriend with Evan.

Evan. Evan who meets Tommy at the door whenever he’s there, arms open and a smile on his face, ready to hold onto Tommy like it’s his job. There’s usually delicious food cooking that Tommy can smell from the driveway. Evan, who picks up Christopher or Jee and they head to the park or museum for an outing. Evan, who notices that Tommy really likes to draw so he joins a drawing club for the both of them and even though Evan himself is not great at drawing he’s always so excited for them to go together.

Evan, whose kisses linger on his body like a prayer. Whose touch burns his skin in the best way. Who gasps and grunts and grabs and whispers in his ear as their sweaty, muscular bodies practically meld into one. There’s laughter and smiles afterward, as they hold onto each other and fall asleep pressed against one another.

Evan, who makes loving easy to do. Who gives his whole heart and then some. Who breaks whatever was left of Tommy’s shell and makes him realize that the type of love he wanted all those years ago, even as a little kid, was real. It was possible. And he had it.

[lunarmoves]

there was a new security guard working in the daycare. 

you’d been wondering when the higher ups at fazbear entertainment would green light the hiring process for one, and apparently it was sooner than you’d thought. you weren’t a particularly important employee, so it made sense why you wouldn’t have been told, but it was still surprising nonetheless. you didn’t remember the last time the security desk in the daycare had been occupied by someone other than yourself when you were taking your lunch break. granted, you hadn’t been working at the pizzaplex for too long, but you’d seen the records, and the strange disappearance of the last guard was something you were never able to dredge up too much information about. 

you met him on one of your lunch breaks actually, while you were contemplating which fast food restaurant to use your free meal on. you think he started up a conversation because you were likely one of the only human staff members he’d seen since getting hired. not that you could blame him, of course. lord knows the last time you'd spoken to someone not made of metal and wires.

“so many options to pick from, eh?” a voice said from your left and you turned to see the new guard standing there with his hands tucked into his pockets. the cap that came with his uniform was nestled atop his head of curly hair and cast his face in shadow from the neon lights overhead. you could just barely make out the glint of his black eyes. “this place really doesn't disappoint.”

you snorted at his words. fazco was many things, but a disappointment wasn't one of them. "you're telling me. the prices on the other hand..." you made a face and he laughed before sticking out his hand.

"name's vincent," he introduced himself with a bright, charming smile. "'m the new daycare guard." the badge pinned to the left side of his chest was decorated with little stars and winked brightly at you in the lighting.

you grabbed his hand with your own for a firm handshake and introduced yourself as well. "i do repairs around the pizzaplex and the like. places the bots can't get to, occasionally minor repairs on the animatronics themselves." the ones that didn't warrant an entire trip down to parts 'n services, at least.

"nice, i bet you're never out of work, huh?" you shook your head with a lopsided smile. vincent opened his mouth as though to say something else, then seemed to pause and instead looked around the food atrium. "anyways, you got any recommendations? i got an hour for a lunch break and i'm starving."

vincent proved to be excellent company as he joined you for your lunch break. you didn't mind, honestly. it was refreshing to be able to talk to another human—someone whom you didn't have to strain your neck to look up to or whom you could connect to on a level you couldn't with robots and automatons. he was hilarious and charming, with a plethora of stories he regaled you with of his life before he was hired at the pizzaplex. and before you knew it, your time for your lunch break was up and you were saying your goodbyes to vincent as you both made your way back to your respective jobs. your heart felt lighter in a way it hadn't been in a long time.

the process repeated.

vincent joined you for your lunch breaks whenever he managed to catch you in the atrium. it wasn't too often, as your schedule was rather erratic, but he could take his lunch break whenever he wanted. so you eventually just swapped numbers so you could text and meet up instead of basing it off of chance. and your friendship skyrocketed from there with the endless memes you'd send to each other both on shift and off—the late night conversations you'd have about things that varied from miscellaneous to more serious (fazco's history being one of them). it felt inevitable, getting closer.

you had such a good time with him that you didn't even realize how long it'd been since you'd last stepped foot in the daycare.

that is—until you got called in for a repair on the daycare attendant.

the email had been sent straight to your phone. an emergency repair, by the sound of it. you hadn't ever had to do one on sun nor moon. usually it was monty or chica. concern tainted your conscience as you made your way over to the daycare and slipped through the giant castle doors.

immediately, you were spotted by vincent, who waved and jogged over from the far side of the security desk. "hey! that was fast."

"yeah, i was close by," you puffed out, your eyes searching around the daycare for sun. it was later in the evening—nearing closing, in fact—so there luckily weren't many kids around. only a handful, you noted as you spotted them sitting around the playmats, coloring or playing with little hand puppets together. your gaze trailed over to a corner by the security desk, where sun was perched atop one of the large foam blocks with his legs crossed. swaying slightly in place as he kept an eye on the kids in the distance. well, at least he looked fine from here. couldn't be all too bad, then, you thought in relief.

"what happened?" you asked vincent as you made your way towards sun, your hand gripping onto a toolbox you'd snagged earlier from parts 'n services.

"i don't know," he replied in earnest, a frown decorating his face. "i went for a bathroom break and when i got back he wa—"

before he could finish, however, you were spotted by sun, who shot straight up from the foam block and beamed with all the light of a thousand stars at your approaching figure.

"friend!!" he exclaimed and closed the short distance between the two of you to sweep you up in a bone-crushing hug. you let out a surprised laugh, holding onto him for dear life as his torso spun around and around and around in tandem with his rays. "you're here! oh we missed you so so so much!"

"hey bud, missed you too," you wheezed and patted him on the back. his robotic strength was unyielding and you did your best to endure. he nuzzled at the side of your face and eventually set you down. a hand was placed on your shoulder, fingers running adoringly over your uniform.

"dropped this," vincent's voice piped up from behind you and those fingers abruptly tightened. you glanced over your shoulder and turned to accept the toolbox from him as he held it out to you. his gaze flicked from you to sun, subtle. you hadn't even noticed you'd dropped it.

"thanks, man." you offered him a smile and grabbed onto the box's handle. "what were you sa—"

"mr. guard!" sun smoothly cut in, stepping in front of you to lean down over vincent. you couldn't see over the terse line of his back, so you poked your head around him to look at vincent and the dark shadow that'd been cast over his form. "please keep an eye on the children in the meantime. it looks like little jeremy's about to stick a crayon up his nose and we can't have that, nonono!"

vincent's frown deepened. he cast you a final look before he nodded shortly. you almost thought he was going to argue. "alright." and then he turned on his heel to make his way over to the kids. you watched him carefully—the rigid line of his shoulders—then jolted slightly when sun spun back around to face you with a bright grin.

you spoke up before he could. "what was that all about?"

"what was what all about?" he asked innocently, his hands clasped behind his back as he swayed side to side, further blocking your view of vincent. you gave him a look.

"you know exactly what i'm talking about," you said flatly and gestured at him to take a seat back on the foam block. he complied with a flourish, spinning on his feet to plop upon it. even sitting he wasn't much shorter than you.

he bobbed his head side to side as though he was contemplating. you set down your toolbox next to him and placed your hands on your waist, raising an eyebrow expectantly at him. he wavered, then let out an exaggerated sigh.

"it's just— the guards!" he tossed his head back dramatically, then leaned forward to stage whisper at you. "we never liked them, you know. and this one is..." he trailed off, eyes squinting as his smile thinned like the edge of a blade.

you rolled your eyes. you did, in fact, know of their distaste for the guards. it was why the daycare had gone so long without one. you couldn't really blame sun, you supposed. after all, they had been on their own for a long time and were more than capable. you weren't entirely sure what fazco was doing. maybe a parent complained.

"vincent's not too bad," you said and lowered your hands from your waist. sun tilted his head at you, gaze trained on your face. you clicked your tongue. "anyways, where's the injury? show me."

"riiiight here!" he brandished his hand at you—the one that you soon realized he'd been carefully keeping out of your sight all this time.

and for good reason, too. your jaw dropped at the way his hand hung off his wrist, held together by a few measly wires. "sun, what happened?!" you gasped as you jolted towards him and gingerly took hold of his hand. wires had snapped ruthlessly apart, splintered and shredded.

"oh, you know!" he waved his free hand, gaze still pinned onto you as you turned his hand this way and that, a crease forming between your brows. "just had a little oopsie, is all! doesn't hurt a bit!" and he spun his rays as though to show how unbothered he was.

you immediately let go of his hand and started fumbling for your toolbox to pull out supplies. you'd honestly prefer to have him get repaired down in parts 'n services for this, but knowing his adverseness to the place, there was no way you'd be able to.

"a little oopsie?" you asked incredulously. "this is a bit more than an oopsie, bud."

"ah, it's nothing our beloved repair tech can't fix!" he replied sweetly, gazing at you in a way that made something in your stomach flutter about. you grumbled and got to work, resolutely ignoring the heat creeping up your neck.

as you diligently worked on cutting and splicing the remaining wires together after turning off the electricity being routed to his hand, sun hummed happily to himself. "so!" he piped up after a moment of you concentrating heavily on his injury. "where have you been all this time, hm?"

you shrugged slightly, eyes firmly fixed to two wires you were splicing. the way they had torn was a bit... strange. like they'd been ripped or stretched apart until they tore. "been busy running around doing repairs, the usual."

"repairs, huh?" he mused, something to his voice that you couldn't quite decipher. "surely you are not working even during your lunch break? it is important to get your rest, friend!"

"i'm not, don't worry," you soothed, glancing up at him. "i've just been eating in the atrium lately. no biggie. sorry i haven't been by, i guess it... slipped my mind." you winced slightly at your words. truly, it had not occurred to you with how your breaks had been filled with hanging with vincent.

this close, you could see the offset white of his ringed pupils, roving over your body and drinking you in like he was a man starved. "i see. you would not happen to be spending it with ah, the guard over there, would you?"

you scrunched your nose at him. "why does it matter if i was?"

"no reason!" he grinned, but there was a tautness lining the edges of his smile that you did not quite like. his gaze flicked briefly over your shoulder, then back to you where his eyes upturned into crescents. "we're just happy to see you again! do make time for us too, yes?" his voice softened and lowered to a murmur. "the daycare isn't the same when you're not here with us."

now that just made you feel guilty. you swallowed it down as best as you could and gave him a small smile. "sorry," you repeated again gently. "i will."

it didn't take much longer to fix up his hand, and before you knew it, he was bouncing to his feet and flexing it every which way to show off its replenished dexterity. "good as new! thank you, my friend!" he scooped you up into another hug and you laughed, dizzy on his excitement.

"yeah, yeah. no more oopsies from now on, okay?" you chided him with a wagging finger once he'd placed you gently back upon the ground. he fixed your rumpled shirt for you, smoothing it down with large fingers. "i forbid it!"

"no promises!" he replied, booping you on the nose before clasping his hands together behind his back.

you packed up your tools and glanced down at your phone to check the time. almost closing. you should head out soon. you glanced over to vincent to see that most of the children had been checked out while you'd tended to sun. the last one was dozing on a playmat as vincent sat nearby, scrolling idly on his phone.

"alright, i need to go," you told sun as you started walking over to the looming castle doors. he followed you like a particularly lithe shadow. "got an early morning tomorrow."

"get some rest, friend!" he said, but you weren't paying attention to him anymore. vincent had caught your eye and quietly got up from his seat to jog over and meet you by the doors.

"all good?" he asked you once he'd come to a stop by your side, his hands buried in his pockets. you nodded and his gaze flicked to sun over your shoulder. he pointed over to the last kid snoring away. "you wanna look after the tyke now? my shift's over."

sun's eyes creased together as he smiled stiffly. one of his rays twitched. "of course! i will see you... tomorrow."

"yep. bye." succinct and terse, vincent gave sun a two-fingered salute then jerked his head at you before he pushed open the doors and left. you eyed vincent's retreating back first, then sun.

this was so weird. you exhaled through your nose and held onto your toolbox tightly. "...bye sun. see you tomorrow, promise."

"i will hold you to that!" was his merry response, and he waved at you with a grin as you left the daycare. white pupils followed you out, the door closing slowly behind you as something unsaid lingered in the air. you gave the doors a final look, then turned towards vincent, who was waiting for you a few feet away.

you considered bringing up all of... that—and boy was the last hour a lot to unpack—but a quick glance at the bags under vincent's eyes had you dropping it. later, you'll ask later.

you walked over to him. "hey, thanks for calling the repair in," you said as you both made your way up the stairs. "sun hates parts 'n services, it would've been a nightmare calling a mechanic to bring him down."

vincent gave you an odd look, one of his eyebrows raising. "what are you talking about?" he asked slowly, confused. "i didn't call it in. i told you i had been in the bathroom?"

he had said that, hadn't he. "oh." you thought he'd called it once he got back, but you guessed you were wrong. "and you really didn't see what'd happened?"

"nope." he took off his cap and ran his hand through his hair before setting it back on his head. "i don't have a single clue."

you hummed, glancing over your shoulder at the daycare as you both walked past the party rooms on the upper level. through the glass and netting, you could see sun, standing by one of the playpens. watching you and vincent with white eyes that gleamed even through the fluorescent lighting.

you suppressed a shiver and turned away, a burning gaze following you until you disappeared beyond a point where it no longer could.

connected to this drabble!

[drabblesandimagines]

Happy birthday! Can I request some Vincent Valentine, perhaps a list or short of him slowly becoming more open to affection, little touches, more talkative etc. Thank you and have a good one!

Anon, I think I've gone waaay off ask with this, but I tried and this is where we've ended up. I dunno how best to describe this - head canons/weird short story bullet list? Anyway, please lemme know if you like it/hate it and thank you so much for your birthday wishes! xx

Fat Chocobo Vincent Valentine x female reader, fluffy nonsense as per

It would be a lie if you didn’t admit you were a little nervous at first in the company of the newest member of your party.

No-one could blame you either - the way the first meeting had ended with one Vincent Valentine in the basement of the Shinra Mansion…

He was silent, stoic and you could never quite tell what he was thinking, features obscured behind his red cowl, tight-lipped as the leathers he was clothed in.

He was, however, a gentleman with impeccable manners. If he was sat whenever you or Aerith, Tifa or Yuffie stood, he’d stand immediately, waiting for them to sit again or leave the room before he’d resumed a cross-legged position once more.

And always the first to offer a steadying hand when you’d hesitated at a jump or large step.

Not to mention all the times he’d darted in front of you, shielding you when a fiend attacked… even the times you weren’t on the front line and really in any danger.

Aerith and Tifa would share knowing looks – ones that caused you to roll your eyes and Yuffie stomp her foot at being “left out”.  

You’d had a nightmare, woken up heart pounding, in a cold sweat – being pursued by fiends, Shinra troops, Turks, Sephiroth - but managed to catch yourself before you screamed, clamping a hand over your mouth in fear of waking your companions in your shared room in the Haunted Hotel.

No wonder you were having bad dreams. You’d take numerous nights in the drafty rooms at Johnny’s Seaside Inn over this.

You’d got to your feet after an hour of trying to settle. Dawn wasn’t so far off now, you reasoned, sneaking past a snoring Yuffie and made it out to the hall.

At least the Golden Saucer was the place that never slept…

You decided to go watch the chocobo races, but soon found yourself at the souvenir stall, eyeing up a stuffed fat chocobo.

It would be nice to cuddle.

Entirely impractical in the lifestyle you now find yourselves in, though.

A cold weight on your shoulder causes you to jerk back in fright, nearly losing your footing when it moves to your waist instead, keeping you steady.

“Apologies.” Vincent has to raise his voice over the blaring music in the background. “I did not intend to startle you so – I called your name but I don’t think you heard.”

“Oh.” The pounding in your chest begins to settle. “No… I was miles away.”

“You cannot sleep?” His gauntlet leaves your waist.

“Something like that.” You clench your fists, unconsciously, in memory of the unpleasant dream. “How about you?”

“I do not sleep much.”

“Do you like the chocobo races?” Your eyes flit to the screens behind, another race about to begin.

He gives a half-hearted shrug. “I do not mind them. Perhaps one of the more tolerable activities to observe around here.”

“I was gonna sit and watch some… if you wanted to join?”

A curt nod follows as he steps aside, waiting for you to lead the way to one of the benches and the two of you sit in companionable silence. It’s nice – not having to make forced conversation, his presence feeling reassuring by your side.

“Happy birthday!” Aerith throws her arms around you in a hug as the two of you return to the hotel lobby an hour or so later. You swear you feel Vincent’s eyes burn on you at her comment.

“Where did you go?” The flower girl pulls back with a smile as she looks between you and Vincent. “I wanted to give you your present as soon as you woke up!”

“Wait, present?” You shake your head in disbelief. “You didn’t need to get me anything, it’s-”

“Uh-uh. Come on.” She grabs your hand and tugs you in the direction of the stairs. “The rest of the boys aren’t awake yet. Could you check on them, Vincent?”

“Hmph.”

Vincent watches as Aerith drags you up the stairs towards the elevator, the girl mercifully waiting for the doors to slide close before she assaulted you with questions.

“Were you two on a date? Did he take you out for your birthday?”

“What? No, Aerith! I couldn’t sleep so I went for a walk and bumped into him.”

“Suuuure,” she nods, bouncing on her heels.

Everyone is too sweet – receiving a number of thoughtful and practical gifts, given your current situation.

Cloud gifts you a new booster pack of Queen’s Blood, mumbling something about how it’s a duplicate he had, but Yuffie loudly declares she saw him deliberately buy two at the Card Carnival in Costa del Sol, causing Barret to laugh heartedly and slap the ex-SOLDIER on the back.

You don’t see Vincent again until the evening, everyone bidding one another goodnight when he emerges from the shadows.

“Could you…?” He pauses to clear his throat, his eyes cast down. “I’d be grateful if you would wait a moment.”

“Erm… sure. Aerith, I’ll see you up there.

Aerith giggles as she heads off, waving at you over her shoulder.

Vincent pulls out a chair from one of nearby tables, gesturing for you to take a seat. You sit down and watch as the raven-haired man strides over to the reception desk in, soon talking to the concierge who pops down from the ceiling in his usual manner.

You drum your fingers on the table – a nervous habit.

Why would Vincent want you to wait?

He appears in your peripheral vision soon after – an odd shape tucked under his cloak.

“If you’d close your eyes.”

You do.

Something is placed in your lap.

Something… soft?

You open your eyes, finding one of the fat chocobo plushies.

“Happy birthday.”

 “You… you bought me this?”

“I was under the impression you wanted one – given how long you stared at it last night.”

“Vincent, I…” You stare up at him, a little in disbelief, clutching the soft toy to your chest. “Thank you. But how did you…? Wait, what game did you play?”

Vincent taps his nose, keeping his secrets. He offers you his hand, pulling you up to your feet. “Come – you need to sleep.”

You’re escorted up the stairs in the blink of an eye, the elevator door soon sliding open again.

“Thank you. Really.” You step in, expecting him to follow but he stays in place. “I don’t know what else to say.”

“It was my pleasure.” The corners of his eyes crinkle – you hope it means he’s smiling – one to match the dumb one on your own lips. “Sweet dreams.”

The elevator doors slide shut.

And, with the fat chocobo squished in your arms, smelling a little like Vincent from its brief time in his cloak, your dreams are certainly sweet.

--

Masterlist . Requests welcome . Ko-fi

[ashyyslashy]

faustian bargain - marquis vincent de gramont x f! reader (john wick: chapter 4)

synopsis: To clear your debts to The High Table, you agree to a proposal by the Marquis to live with him as his partner.

warnings: language, sexual content (p in v sex, choking), semi-toxic relationship dynamics

word count: 2.8k

a/n: the john wick lore makes my head spin!

You stared into the weathered face of the man on the portrait before you, tucked away in a private corner of the Marquis' expansive gallery. The wrinkles and creases bore the weight of years of suffering, the lines of his face hard set in permanent anguish. You often imagined them as a collection of sins etched onto his aged features. Sometimes, you found yourself likening the image to a Picture of Dorian Gray. You would wonder whether the Marquis' misdeeds had marred this painting instead of his own self, leaving his striking handsomeness intact, and he’d hidden it from view.

The portrait reminded you it was too late to regret the changes that had taken place; only to find a way to cope with them. You had become used to seeking refuge in your thoughts amidst the entrapment of your existence. You would conjure whatever you liked to make this engorged mansion seem less stifling.

You had made an off-hand comment to the Marquis once, that you felt like a cat in a cage without enough room to stretch its legs.

He had chuckled, with his own catlike eyes boring into yours. "Mon amour, you are only bound by your own pride and reluctance. Laissez-vous être libre."

In seeking freedom from The Table, you traded one form of enslavement for another. For some unknown reason, the Marquis had taken an interest in you upon your first meeting. So he offered you a choice: join the fruitless battle to kill John Wick or stay with him in his home until it was all over, in some sort of twisted romantic scenario. Whether he was driven by boredom, liquor, or pure schadenfreude, you were unsure. Regardless of his motivations, you knew there was really only one correct answer if you wanted to live.

"I'll live with you," you'd told him. "But what is it you really want from me? No bullshit."

"The companionship of a beautiful woman, is all. Is that truly so wrong?"

His full lips formed into a roguish smirk.

You should have known there'd be a catch. You didn't simply live in his mansion - you were confined to it. Even with supervision, you weren't allowed to leave the property. As a result, you desired his presence in order to fill your solitude, developing a sudden and unexpected connection to the man. It was shocking how quickly your resolve to spite him faded. He became your lifeline, your connection to the outside world. And despite your best judgement, the more time he spent away, the more you yearned for him.

You hated his brand of intoxicating hedonism, the luxury items and expensive food he lavished upon you to win your favor. But you wore the designer dresses he laid out on your bed and drank the aged wine that was served at dinner.

You felt like you were betraying what you stood for through your infatuation with him. You resented yourself for growing so dependent upon him. Every touch you shared, every pent-up moment of sexuality - and there were few and far between - sent a flood of guilt rushing throughout your body. You'd wanted to escape The Table, but had only gotten yourself in deeper by fraternizing with the enemy.

The worst part of all was that he assumed a total indifference towards you. He would only provide you with the occasional caress or kiss on the cheek and any coy allusion he made to romance or sex in conversation was carefully veiled. He was forcing you to make the first move, and you wished so strongly that you could shatter his confidence by refusing to make it.

But at the same time, your resolve was wavering - every part of you was consumed by a flaming desire for him, steadfast in its absolute power.

You knew you had to do something to extinguish it.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

The clatter of silverware resounded throughout the dining room, forks scraping against fine china.

You'd been fixated on him all night. Your eyes were glued to the veins flexing in his hands as he grasped his utensils, the curve of his lips when he brought a forkful of food to his waiting mouth, the tensing of his sharp jawline as he chewed.

Every time he met your gaze, your nerves stood on end. The meal seemed to drag on, and no matter how much you ate, nothing could fill the gaping pit of anxiety in your stomach. It was just the two of you tonight, and the air felt charged with electricity.

"C'est fini," the Marquis commanded suddenly, pushing his chair back. It dragged across the polished floor with a squeal.

As you always did, you stacked the plates and carried them into the kitchen, starting to wash them until the staff refused to let you help any further. You wished they would allow you to do more- you hated not feeling of use, and you disliked others waiting upon you. Your sense of independence was unshakeable, even here.

When you left the kitchen, the Marquis had gone, likely retired to his chamber. You were counting on that. You hurriedly crossed the house, taking deep breaths for what you were preparing to do.

Standing in front of his door, you raised your right knuckle and rapped upon the wood. You heard shuffling within.

"Who is it?" he called.

"It's me," you replied sheepishly.

"D'accord. Come in."

You slowly pushed open the door and stepped into his room. His bare back was facing you, muscles rippling as he leaned over to unbutton his pants.

Your cheeks grew hot. "Um- you know, you could have told me to wait and gotten dressed first."

He turned around, stepping out of his pants and laying them next to his discarded shirt on the bed.

"I was not aware you were such a prude."

You scoffed and mumbled something under your voice about "public decency", trying to hide the anxiousness creeping into your tone. He strolled past you with an air of nonchalance, naked save for his boxers.

"So are you going to tell me why you're here?" he continued after several moments, folding his clothes with all the ease of someone who's never had to do their own laundry. He slipped a silk robe over his body before pivoting towards you, his eyes boring into yours.

You let out a breath of air. "Um... I need to ask. What's going on here? With us?"

He cocked an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean. What is it you want from this?"

He shook his head. "Déjà vu. You have already asked me this. My answer has not changed."

"Sure. My company, huh?" You replied in an insinuating tone.

"If you are implying that I expect you to do sexual favors for me, do not worry. I would have asked by now."

"What a gentleman."

"Mmm. When I say company, I mean company, chérie."

"Alright. Well..." you stepped towards him, shaking off any lingering feelings of hesitance. "I think you're a coward."

He moved closer, a dark look crossing his face. "Oh, do you?"

"Yeah. You know, I hear a lot around here. And I see how you pull the strings to ensure that everyone but you faces John Wick."

His jaw hardened. "It would be wise not to involve yourself in things that do not concern you."

"See, but you being a coward does concern me. I mean, it must be why you're just biding time until I make a move on you. Since you won't be the one to do it."

You were playing with fire, taunting him like this. You'd know him long enough to become immune to his attempts at intimidation, however.

He treaded backwards, barking out a laugh. It was strange to see him lose his perfectly-maintained composure even for a brief moment.

"You think you know everything, non?"

"I know more than you think," you countered. "You didn't deny it, after all."

"So this was the purpose of the visit? You have come to lecture me for not being man enough?"

"No. I came to ask you to be honest."

"I am not an honest man, chérie. You should know that. So what is it you want me to say?"

You were aware you were about to give away the upper hand, but fuck it.

"It'd like to know if you really do want me."

He shook his head, lips pursed together in amusement. "And did you not just boldly declare that I do?” 

"Stop toying with me."

He let out a sigh of exasperation. "I cannot understand why you ask me this. If I did not want you, why would you be here? I have given you space, and you interpret this as a sign of cowardice. I did not think boldly pursuing you would go over well. My mistake."

"That's not what I'm saying," you retorted, an indignant cry escaping your lips. "I'm alone in this house most of the time, and when you are here, you treat me as if I'm invisible. I feel like the fucking toy that the spoiled brat refuses to play with."

"You believe this is how I see you?"

"Yes, I believe it," you spat.

He laughed again, the sound not as sharp as before, humorless.

"How wrong you are."

"Then tell me your side of the story.”

He sat down on the edge of the bed, his hands resting on either side of him.

"I decided I would not send you to the front lines of this war with John Wick. I am confident I will win, bien sûr, but not without casualties. I did not want you to be one."

"Why?"

"J'sais pas. A feeling I had that I cannot explain. I just knew I wanted to give you a way out. I..." he trailed off. "I did not do it to taunt you, as you think. And I am not indifferent towards you. I thought that much was obvious."

"How wrong you are," you imitated.

"You are one to talk, chérie. You walk around as if you hate me and everything I stand for."

"I wish I did,” you replied ruefully.

His expression was unreadable. You approached him, standing over his form on the bed. Tentatively, you reached out to untie his robe, your movements slow in the case that he'd want you to stop. He stared up at you with unblinking eyes as you slid the folds of his robe to the side, revealing his bare chest. He shrugged the rest of the garment off, allowing it to fall to the floor. You slowly ran your hand across his abs down to his happy trail. 

"Do you like what you see?" he murmured, his eyes searching you for validation that you were surprised a man of his status would be asking for.

"I saw it before when you were walking around half-naked, but yes, I do."

Ignoring your sarcastic comment, as he tended to do, he gestured towards your own clothing. "Take it off."

You were too caught up in the headiness of the moment to protest that he'd phrased it as a demand. You pulled your nightgown over your head, and it joined the clothing pile on the floor.

Gazing at you intently, he placed his hands firmly on your waist and pulled you towards him. He took one of your breasts in his mouth and then the other in turn, swirling his tongue around your nipples. You dug your hands into his brunette locks as he peppered your chest with love bites, exercising his newfound lack of restraint. 

It was hypnotizing to see his guard go down, a hungry, animalistic fervor overtaking him. He was feverish with his movements as he pulled you to straddle him, his hard cock pressing against you. You tugged down his boxers and let the member spring free, admiring it for a moment before moving your hand in front of you to pump it up and down. You adopted a slow pace to offset his sudden frenzy, determined to leave him wanting more.

He slid backwards across the bed and you followed, your hands still working around his cock. He laid his head down on the pillow, looking at you lazily with hooded eyes.

"This must be how all of your fucks go, huh? You just lay down while the other person gets you off?" you teased while suspecting there was some truth to the notion.

"I'm simply fulfilling the role you've already carved out for me, non?" he retorted, reaching out his hand to smooth your hair back.

You spit on your hand and lubed up his cock, feeling the intensity of his gaze burning your face. You pressed down on his shoulders for support as you lifted yourself up into a crouching position, lining him up with your entrance. 

He sat up slightly, helping guide you onto his cock with eagerness. He sloppily buried himself inside you, and you began to create friction, bouncing up and down with your legs wrapped around him and your nails digging into his shoulders. 

You relished in the effect that your ministrations had upon him. He was a silent lover beside the occasional soft breath or inhale, but his pleasure revealed itself through his body language; his mouth gaped slightly open, eyebrows furrowed, head arched back. You couldn’t help but admire him.

The two of you moved in harmony, soaking in your collective loss of inhibitions as your pace grew faster. You’d caught yourself imagining this a few times late at night, cursing yourself as your hand crawled down to the hem of your nightgown. 

It felt so much fucking better when it was real. 

You scratched deep marks in his skin as ecstasy washed over you, climbing closer to your high, your walls clenching against his cock. Suddenly he was trying to move you off him, and the spell was broken as you looked down at him in confusion.

"Lay down on your stomach," he instructed, and again you bent to his will.

You felt his arm snake around you from behind, his hand clamping down around your neck. You went lightheaded from the sudden loss of oxygen, and a moan escaped your mouth as you felt him enter you again.

"Is this man enough for you, chérie?" he whispered, his breath hot against your ear as he rammed into you from behind.

He was pounding you mercilessly, and you knew that to tell him to stop was to reveal further weakness. You moved to brace yourself against the bed frame, but his hands were on your arms, pinning you down so you were entirely at his mercy.

"Tell me I'm a fucking coward now," he challenged.

"You're - not - a - coward," you managed to choke out, his thrusts continuing to increase in intensity, the sound of skin slapping against skin reverberating throughout the room.

He hummed his approval, before taking ahold of you and flipping you onto your back. His left hand moved to play with your clit as the other returned to your throat. Your back arched in anticipation, your body tingling from the combination of his cock thrusting into you and the movement of his fingers.

"I'm gonna cum," you cried out.

"Ouais, cum for me."

Your body trembled under the weight of your orgasm. As soon as you'd collapsed back down, he quickly pulled out of you, letting out a guttural groan as he shot his load over your tits and upper stomach.

He reached his index finger into the mess, drawing a heart in the sticky liquid and completing with an arrow through the center. The juvenile gesture caught you entirely off-guard until you looked up to see the amused, self-satisfied expression on his face. 

He pressed his finger against your lips, gently nudging for you to open it. You took his finger into your mouth, sucking it clean.

The Marquis laid down beside you, his eyes roving over your body. You surveyed his in return, unused to seeing the skin that he always had hidden under layers of a suit. You half-expected him to tell you to get out, maybe even toss you a twenty-dollar bill, but he said: "Do you want to sleep here tonight?"

It took you a moment to process the question. "Uh- yeah, I guess I will."

"Très bon. I will get you a cloth to clean up.”

He rolled off the bed. As you listened to him rifle through the cabinets, you were hit with the realization that you'd crossed a line you couldn't come back from. You'd fallen into his trap and given yourself over to him, just as he'd always suspected you would. 

He returned to your side, handing you a plush washcloth. You wiped off the evidence of your clandestine encounter, but as he turned off the lights and pulled you under the covers with him, you knew it stained you somewhere deeper. 

When you closed your eyes, all you could see was the haunting portrait. And all that lingered on your mind was a deal with the devil. The Table still had its claws in you.

[unreliablesnake]

Hold on tight (Vincent de Gramont x reader)

Summary: You keep your end of the deal and return to Paris to visit Vincent.

Note: I'm not happy with this. / previously on... / The title comes from this song. / If you want to know when I post new stuff, follow @unreliablesnakefics and hit the get notifications button. I don't have a taglist.

Warnings: smut(ish)

“It's been more than half a year,” Winston noted one night when you couldn't sleep and decided to join him in the bar. “The Marquis is already looking for you.”

“I know.”

He was right. Rumor had been flying around that he was paying some people to come to the Continental just to check on you in these past months. And all along, Winston did his best to shield you, keep you away from having to face the possibility of meeting him again. But lately things had gotten worse, you knew it.

“You know,” you began once you took a sip of your drink, “I thought time and distance would help me. That I would feel better. That I wouldn't feel the need to be near him. But it's not working, I still want him,” you explained sadly.

“Then go and meet him,” he offered the solution as if it was that easy.

Because it wasn't easy. You were fighting your emotions so hard for a long time, but that emptiness from being away from him just kept crawling back. “And if he somehow convinces me to stay with him?” you asked since it was a possibility. You might get weak and stay if he asked.

“Is that what you're afraid of?” Nodding, you leaned back in the chair and crossed your legs. “He's a bad man. We're not saints either, but at least we follow the rules.”

“How is this supposed to help me? I already knew he's a jerk.”

Winston let out a heartfelt laugh. “What if he can change for the better because of you? What if he would change if that was the price of being with you?”

“I'm not so sure about that.”

“I am,” came his reply that took you off guard. You gave him a questioning look then waited for the explanation. “He's been sending you handwritten letters, and tries to call you almost daily… This man is in love, sweetheart. Who knows how far he would be willing to go to get you.”

You shrugged. “Maybe he will kidnap me again.”

“That didn't work out the first time,” Winston pointed out.

“True.”

“Also, he's not known for his patience, yet he's been waiting long months for you to keep your end of the deal.”

He was right again. Vincent was surprisingly patient with you, he didn't start harassing you through his men, instead he kept his distance and kept an eye on you without saying a word. And while you didn't even want to think about it, Winston pointed out this difference.

The man who was so used to getting whatever he wanted and whenever he wanted it was waiting patiently for a woman. He could have gone out to pick up someone else, but no, according to rumors he was waiting for you. It was hard to decide whether it was flattering or terrifying.

Your boss let out a sigh as he glanced down at the notebook on the table in front of him. “You should go to Paris. However long it takes,” he added before you could say you didn't want to be away from this place in case he needed your help.

He didn't even have to look up to know you were about to object. But you kept your mouth shut, and so you ended up buying a ticket and packing your suitcase in the following hours. “I'm an idiot for doing this,” you told yourself as you collected some items from the bathroom.

Thirteen hours later you once again landed in Paris, although this time you were on your own. Or so you thought. At the airport you were greeted by a man Vincent sent there to pick you up and take you to him. You followed him without asking questions, knowing full well it would be futile to resist and insist on traveling on your own to the hotel where you reserved a room for yourself.

Unlike the last time, the mansion didn't look cold and threatening. No, it was warm and welcoming, a place where you could feel safe right away. Safe. With him. You didn't think these two things would ever be connected by the same sentence. While you'd been here the last time, you were always on the edge, feeling like you didn't belong.

But now? Now you had a feeling you were exactly where you were supposed to be.

A staff member came to help you with your luggage, assuring you that they would take it straight to your room, while a woman came to accompany you to the room Vincent was in at the moment. Your eyes scanned the paintings on the walls as you passed by, the familiar sight making you feel at home.

“I was beginning to think you wouldn’t come,” you suddenly heard the familiar voice say. You looked up and noticed him standing in the hallway, hands folded behind his back as he watched you. He sounded unsure, a quite shocking experience compared to the authoritative Vincent you had met the last time.

You waited until the woman was told to leave and the two of you were left alone before you said anything. “Me too,” you replied quietly. “But someone convinced me to come here and keep my end of the deal.”

Vincent’s jaw tightened and you wondered what made him do it. Was it because you said you were only here because of that deal? It could be the reason.

“I’m glad I’m here,” you added, surprising yourself with this sentence.

Because if you wanted to be honest, you were glad to be in Paris again. To be with him. All those months of thinking about him while your brain tried to warn you forget him had its toll on you. You were tired and doubted your feelings all the time. But now that you were here with him, you began to see clearly.

This man had managed to get under your skin despite being a kidnapper, planting the seeds in your brain that then turned you into this mess eventually. But it worked. You were here, you were yearning for his touch, and you had to fight your instincts to keep your distance for now.

Let's see what he does. You shouldn't throw yourself at him as if he had done nothing wrong. Having a spine is a good thing.

“I got your room ready,” he spoke up again, sounding surprisingly awkward. “I thought you might want to get some rest first. I have a dinner reservation, but if you'd rather stay here, I can have something made for us.”

“We can go out, I guess,” you replied as you nervously swept a strand of hair behind your ear.

Vincent nodded. For a few moments you both stood there in silence, but then he cleared his throat, excused himself, and went back into the room he had previously emerged from. After letting out a long sigh of relief, you headed towards your room, ready to get some well-deserved sleep.

A few hours later you put on a nice dress and did your makeup properly, ready to head out with him for the evening. Because you were sure it wasn't just a dinner he was planning for the two of you. A play? An opera? Maybe a museum? Whatever it would be, you wouldn't object.

As it turned out, you knew him perfectly well, because you were right about his plans. He was hesitant the whole time, as if he wasn't sure how to approach you anymore, but he managed to stay in charge, and that was a good thing.

Because you were too focused on your own needs, on his beautiful green eyes, on his lips, and on his suit. It was just too much to handle, and when you were in the back of the car on the way back to his home, you slowly reached out to take his hand.

He looked surprised, but he wrapped his fingers around your hand, then raised it to his lips to place a soft kiss on it. “I really missed you, my love,” he said.

“Don't think that kidnapping me all those months ago is completely forgiven. But in all honesty, I missed you too. I really did,” you added with a smile before resting your head on his shoulder.

In the next two days, Vincent made sure you felt comfortable in his company. He was nice, and sweet, and things eventually got as intimate as they used to be. You found yourself in his bedroom after a wonderful afternoon in the Louvre, your body pressed to the wall as his lips traced your skin.

He explored your body like this was the first time he had seen it without clothes, and he kept you from moving around, pinning you down to make sure you didn't start removing his clothes. No, he wanted to take his time with you, driving you crazy by not giving you exactly what you wanted.

But a sick part of you loved every second of it, it craved the physical pain not being able to touch him caused. Because you wanted to lay your hands on his body, feeling the smooth skin under your fingertips before moving down to tease his cock.

Vincent could tell you were silently suffering by now, so he kept praising you, even as he got on top of you in bed and leaned down to kiss your collarbone before slowly moving up to your neck. This is when you began to beg him to fuck you, to skip this stupid teasing and finally give you what you needed so badly.

“Would it be weird if I told you I loved you?” you asked him while you were lying in bed together, both of you on the brink of falling asleep.

He let out a quiet, uncharacteristic laugh, then kissed your forehead. “I feel the same way, mon amour,” he told you. “What do you think about staying here for a while? For a few months, maybe.”

You let out a sigh as you thought about his suggestion. Winston had told you to stay as long as you had to, but did you really want to leave him alone for that long? “That's a lot of time, Vincent, I'm not sure. I have responsibilities back home,” you said, more to convince yourself than him.

“Don't you want to be with me?”

“Why don't you come to New York for a week or two? I could show you around,” you offered with a laugh.

He watched you silently for a while, carefully thinking about this idea. Sure, after what had happened the last time he was there, it was understandable if he was a little hesitant.

Maybe it wouldn't be weird to stay in France after all. After leaning over to give him a soft kiss, you rested your forehead against his. “Okay, fine, I'll stay here.”

Little did you know at the time that you wouldn't stay for just a couple of months. You stayed here for good, eventually marrying the man who had almost destroyed your life at one point.

[phantomyre]

Rebirth-Vincent Analysis/Breakdown 1 Vincent's connection to Sephiroth and why his penance is now justified (SPOILERS)

Bear in mind this is mostly an analysis and some of it may be obvious to some. But the purpose of this is to shed light on some of the more nuanced aspects pertaining to Vincent's character and what we might expect from him moving into part 3. I will be breaking these into parts so as to not create such lengthy posts. NOTE: It has been over 2 weeks so I will no longer be censoring content, but I will maintain the spoiler tags. --------------

For starters, Vincent’s personality has been well implemented in that some of his more nuanced traits are highlighted in Rebirth. Compared to OG’s depiction of him, he is more hostile and skeptical than before. In OG, he divulges everything from Sephiroth’s past to his own involvement with Shinra. Not so in Rebirth, however. As a matter of fact, he avoids talking about Sephiroth altogether (up until a certain side-quest), and only calls himself ‘security’ instead of telling the group he once worked for Shinra. Regarding the source of his guilt, it heavily revolves around Sephiroth without so much as a mention of Hojo. As a result, instead of Hojo being his target, Vincent’s driving motivation for joining Cloud’s company is Sephiroth, siting he has unfinished business with Sephiroth. Previously in OG, Vincent’s regret stemmed from his inability to prevent Lucrecia and Hojo from experimenting on their child, Sephiroth. Little else was given, and fans have long held the notion that Vincent had needlessly punished himself for something that was completely not his fault, criticizing his self-hatred as pure edginess and being overdramatic. However, Rebirth has shown there is yet another layer of tragedy regarding the reason for Vincent’s self-imposed punishment. And this leads to the topic of Vincent’s relationship to Sephiroth.

When the party first meet Vincent, though he initially plays the part of a security guard and interrogates them for a breach of ID security, his aggression quickly deflates when he learns that the party is after Sephiroth. It isn’t until Cloud steps into the chamber that used to contain Sephiroth’s samples that Vincent becomes extremely hostile towards the party, oddly protective of the room and whatever info on Sephiroth it may have had. Once Vincent is finally convinced to join the party for the sole purpose of meeting Sephiroth, Vincent states he has some ‘unfinished business’ with Sephiroth. The weight of this motivation becomes very heavy when Vincent finally tells the group the nature of Vincent and Sephiroth’s ‘unique bond’.

According to Vincent, he feels partially to blame for Sephiroth’s cruelty. While that isn’t completely new, Vincent goes on to say that he ‘had many opportunities to purge him from this world’, also sighting the countless people suffering as experiments in the basement. In OG, Vincent was unaware of the evils Sephiroth had committed until Cloud told him. Vincent even says ‘all this while I was sleeping’ when he joins Cloud in seeing the vision of Nibelheim burning—proving Vincent was naïve of the events. In later compilations, it’s implied that Vincent is indeed able to sense turmoil around him since he so happens to turn up whenever someone is about to die. This led fans to question how Vincent was so oblivious to one of the most devastating events in FF7’s story. In Rebirth, however, we learn Vincent was far from oblivious. This implies that Vincent was aware of Sephiroth massacring Nibelheim, the survivors becoming human-experiments, and likely Zack and Cloud’s experimentation as well. Vincent not only neglected to save Lucrecia and Sephiroth during the experimentations, but he also turned a blind eye to the plight of others, allowing Sephiroth to continue his rampage. And not just once or twice. But many times. This is a significant change to Vincent’s story and will likely play a large part in part 3 in his journey to redemption. The red cloak he wears now makes more symbolic sense as he carries the blood of innocents on his shoulders. Now… Vincent’s penance is justified.

[ddarker-dreams]

Nexus Character Database.

"Hey, Lear, why are you ignoring my texts again? What if I was getting robbed at gunpoint and needed your help?"

"Why would they let you use your phone during a robbery, Nona?"

"Stop getting all wrapped up in the little details. The important thing is that you check what I sent."

"Alright, alright, let's see... huh. A personality test? Aren't those a pseudoscience?"

"What a lame thing to say. Just take it already. I'll tell you what Our-Lord-And-Savior-The-Exalted-One got if you do. Woah, geez, calm down, at least let it load!"

Nexus index.

Name: Lear (Nickname given by Miss Phaeales, birth name name is Vincent Metellus) Age: 118 Species: Nymphalian Faction: LOTUS-EATER World: Eris Path: Abundance Combat type: Ice Birthday: June 28th Sexuality: [First] Phaeales (he’s het) Height: 5′8 Hair color: Sandy blonde Eye color: Blue, with a white ring around his pupils Favorite animal: Penguins Favorite food: Pasteli, hot cocoa with marshmallows Least favorite food: Gummies, green olives Favorite things: Cooking, baking, gardening, sewing, mixology, sales at the food market and his red hairpins. Least favorite things: Group chats with more than three people, ads, sports and anything that causes Miss Phaeales distress. Clothing style: Casual. Lots of sweaters, turtlenecks, and the occasional trench coat. Prefers warm neutral colors. MBTI: INFP

Lear is considered by his co-workers to be a diligent yet reserved worker. He rarely calls out sick, never slacks off, and can get along with anyone. Most sigh in relief when they're put on the same shift as him. He wordlessly carries out tasks without anyone's prompting. Despite his solid reputation at the LOTUS-EATER, not much is known about him. He doesn't accept invitations to social outings or seek the companionship of others. These requests are turned down with a soft smile and apologetic look, which makes harboring any ill-will toward him difficult.

In his heart, he can't bring himself to enjoy the freedoms deprived from the one he treasures most. He swore he'd remain by the side of a girl who abruptly stumbled into his melancholic life. This unruly girl would go on to bring excitement and adventure wherever she went. Those boring cycles spent on his lonesome were no more. Her happiness became his, a fact that's never changed. He contents himself on caring for those who he's come to be close to.

Name: Nona Age: 113 Species: Nymphalian Faction: LOTUS-EATER, Arc's Pinion (formally) World: Eris Path: Nihility Combat type: Fire Birthday: November 3rd Sexuality: Pansexual Height: 5′3 Hair color: Chestnut brown Eye color: Amber Favorite animal: Octopi (specifically the dumbo octopus) Favorite food: Red velvet cake Least favorite food: Legumes, fatty meats Favorite things: Punk rock, video games (racing in particular), drumming, clothes, accessories, makeup and plushies Least favorite things: Work, 99% of the people she meets, capitalism and the IPC Clothing style: Gothic lolita and sweet lolita, anything super cute MBTI: ESFP

"A place where anyone can enter, but few can leave."

This would best describe Arc, the purposefully forgotten quadrant of Perianth II. Most who are born here never get to see light, artificial or otherwise. Although Nymphalian's have excellent night vision, Nona was never able to accept navigating a world of darkness. She joined a group of likeminded folk who supposedly sought to better the conditions in Arc. For many years, she sacrificed plenty to realize this dream. After overhearing two of the most prominent leaders squabble over the most insignificant things, she realized the futility of relying on others for a better future.

There had been talks of Nona infiltrating the LOTUS-EATER, as she exhibited the traits necessary for an Arbiter's field of work. Her application for Thelx citizenship was readily accepted. Instead of carrying out her group's wishes, she decided to live for herself. Though Nona was initially standoffish toward her fellow LOTUS-EATER co-workers, she soon formed a bond with her mentor, [First] Phaeales and the bartender Lear.

[blametheeditor]

Voretober Day 19 | Takeout

Voretober Prompt List

First | Previous | Next

If given the opportunity, would you take the chance to go to space and travel the stars? What if the person offering to take you was someone you trusted more than anyone else?

What if that person is no longer entirely human?

CONTAINS SOFT VORE

Content Warnings: Soft, non-sexual vore. Unwilling prey. Mentions of body horror. Mentions of experimenting on people. Mentions of death and murder, violence. Being trapped against one's will. Dehumanization. Abductions. Cursing. Darker themes/tone

___________________________________

“Vincent?” 

Mike hugs the book Scott let him borrow as he sits in his bed, waiting for his brother to appear. It only takes a second before Vincent peers into his room. “What’s up, Mikey?” 

“I can’t sleep,” Mike murmurs.

Vincent hums. “Still too cold?” A head shake. “Miss your dad?” A shrug. “Nightmares?”

He hugs the book tighter when the right guess finally comes, looking down at the blankets wrapped around him. They’re definitely warm, but they’re not as warm as a giant, and if there isn’t a giant around then he can be grabbed by pirates again, and taken to Sara, and put inside a cold cage where anyone walking by can look at him. Because they thought he was a human, and humans can never grow, meaning they’ll never see their dad or brother ever again. 

Mike looks back up at Vincent to see his brother walked into the room and is offering a hug. One he immediately takes while keeping the book close, because he promised Scott he wouldn’t let his brother see any of the drawings. 

It’s still not warm enough. Even as Vincent scoops him up so he’s completely surrounded, it’s still too cold. 

“Same ones as yesterday?” Mike nods his head. “Anything I can do to help?” 

Mike meets amber eyes glowing in the darkness. “Can you grow?” 

“Here? I think we’d both upset Scotty if we broke everything.” 

“Not here,” Mike whispers as a smile starts to grow. “In the bigger area.” 

“Right, of course, why didn’t I think of that?” Vincent smirks. “We bringing the book with us, or leaving it here?” 

Mike narrows his eyes, trying to figure out if his brother is trying to trick him. He carefully leans over in order to put the book on the bed, watching to make sure it doesn’t get picked up. His concentration is broken when Vincent suddenly stands up, Mike softly shrieking as he’s tossed over a shoulder, left there as the tall human carries him out of the room. 

It gives him a clear view of the book in the same place he put it, as well as Scott’s open but empty doorway as they walk past it. He taps on Vincent’s back for attention. “Is Scott sleeping?” 

“Right now he is. He might wake up later to join us though.” 

Mike watches them pass by the hallway and then the kitchen. When Vincent walks through the door into the bigger section, he doesn’t help the younger down and instead silently kneels. Knowing what his brother’s about to do, he curls up as much as possible, squealing in delight as the ground suddenly disappears as he feels gravity trying to throw him off the shoulder. 

When everything stops, Mike quickly stands up even as the shoulder beneath him moves, watching the giant carefully fold himself until he leans against the wall next to the doorway. 

He shoves at Vincent’s neck for attention. “You should show Scott that trick!” 

“Oh Scotty would hate that trick,” his brother says. “He already hates the shoulder because there’s no handholds, he’d hate it even more at the thought of falling off while I grew.” 

Mike slumps into his brother’s neck. “You think he’d let you if I was waiting to catch him?” 

The shoulder jumps in a laugh. “Maybe, we can definitely ask him.” 

“Okay,” Mike grins, curling up against the giant happily. Lets his eyes close as he listens to Vincent’s thunderous heartbeat. 

Except it’s not right. Something’s missing. He doesn’t know what, though, because it feels like he’s been wrapped in a hundred blankets, and Vincent’s humming shakes him to his core, but it’s not all encompassing. He can still be grabbed and taken somewhere no one will ever find him this time. 

Mike gasp when he realizes what’s wrong, turning to shove at the neck he leans against for attention. “Vincent, can you store me?” 

The giant’s head tilts to try and see his face. “Store you?” 

“Please?” Mike asks. “It’s cold and I’m...I’m worried someone’s going to grab me.” 

Something he never thought he would ever be scared about. No one dares try to challenge a Colossian, and taking a child who can’t shift yet is grounds to be dealt with however their family or caretaker sees fit, and it never ends well for the perpetrator. 

But it was Mike’s fault for not saying the assumption he was a false Colossian wasn’t right. He just didn’t want to be taken back to his dad, who would’ve been furious with him and would never let him out of sight again, and that meant he never would’ve seen Vincent again. But then he ended up in a cage without his dad or brother knowing where he went. Started loosing hope they’d never find him after a month passed. 

Vincent did, though. Said he was sorry for how long he took. That his promise to always keep Mike safe will never be broken, even if he doesn’t take orders from Mike’s dad anymore. 

It wasn’t his fault Mike was in trouble, though, it was the younger’s own. He should’ve stuck to the original plan of meeting Vincent once he was old enough to shift. 

He didn’t notice a hand was reaching for him until fingers curl around him. Mike’s then lifted up in front of a smile big enough to hold him inside. “You only ever have to ask.” 

Mike squeals in joy as he’s then lifted higher as Vincent tilts his head back, opening his mouth directly below dangling legs. Ones that kick in excitement as warm breath washes over him until they’re too close to accidentally kick a tooth. Once Mike’s past the glistening teeth, the fingers then carefully drop him, making him land on the tongue with a soft ‘oof’. But any attempt to sit up is stopped as he’s lifted up and pinned to the roof of the mouth. 

Instead of fighting to try and reach what little light he can see to make a game out of it, Mike goes limp as he’s coated in saliva, already feeling a lot safer. He can fall asleep right now, let Vincent talk around him if he was right about hearing Scott’s voice. But he’s not kept there for long, getting pulled deeper into the mouth once it’s deemed he won’t hurt the giant’s throat. 

Vincent then swallows the small form, looking down to meet Scott’s fearful expression. 

He expects his best friend to run back to his room before the giant can even think about grabbing him once he realizes he’s been spotted. It’s a surprise when, after jumping, he takes a single step through the doorway. 

“He, uh, a-asked you to eat him?” 

The purple man can’t help a small smile at Scott’s uncertainty. “He did.” 

“Oh,” Scott murmurs. “He likes being eaten?” 

“You won’t find a Colossian who doesn’t find it comforting,” Vincent muses as he wraps an arm around his abdomen, fingers gently pushing against the minuscule shoves he can feel from his stomach, a silent confirmation he knows Mike has been safely stored with no issues. “Truthfully I don’t understand the appeal, but it helps keep the nightmares away for him. And being the storer certainly has its benefits.” 

Rather than stopping the conversation there, the absolutely minuscule figure he wants to do nothing more than to hold takes another step forward. “L-Like what?” 

Was it him who made Scott this strong, or did his best friend have to claw and kick his way there because the person who was supposed to support him wasn’t there? 

What else does he need to ask forgiveness for? He’s already made so many mistakes since bringing Scott to space. Already has broken the trust of the person he cares most about. And he will do it again, because they have barely tipped the iceberg of what he has done and will need to do. He’s already so far behind in earning redemption, 6 years to be exact. 

It would be easier to tell Scott everything. But Vincent knows there’s a line he can’t cross. Because as kind as Scott is, he won’t be able to deny the fact that Vincent is a monster forever. And telling him everything would turn that day to this one. 

No, he’d rather be selfish. Hold Scott close for as long as possible. 

“It means I know you’re safe. That nothing and no one can ever touch you.” 

“...any downsides?” 

A shiver runs down Vincent’s spine. “I’ll never get used to the feeling of swallowing something alive.” 

Scott winces. “Right, yeah. That, uh, must be weird.” 

The giant snorts. “So what brings you out here?” 

“He's not the only ones with nightmares,” the tiny figure says. 

Vincent hums. “Want to talk about it?” 

He knows what they’re about, had the same ones when he was first stored. Except it wasn’t someone he trusted more than anyone else who caused such horrifying nightmares that would have him jolting awake in terror, unsure if the waking world was any better. 

He sees it, the moment of fear flashing across Scott’s face. But then the impossibly fragile shoulders slump and the tiny figure is walking toward him. His eyebrows raise from surprise that despite having swallowed Mike only a few minutes ago, his company is wanted above all else. 

He doesn’t offer a hand, though he wants to sweep up the determined figure. Hold the tiny Scott he’ll never get tired of interacting with. Pocket it even though he’ll get an earful for it. 

But his instinct to grab is held back by curiosity. Without anything hindering his path, Vincent is rewarded with a Scott walking up to the side of his outstretched leg, turning around before sitting on the ground to use it as a backrest. 

Fuck that’s adorable. 

“No,” Scott says as he crosses his arms before closing his eyes. “I want you to not move while I fall asleep right here.” 

A smile slowly spreads across his face. “I can do that.” 

“And I better not wake up in a pocket.” 

“No promises.” 

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

The Big Wheel: Final Part

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.3k

Summary: The case you’re on is dependent on a little boy who is blind who sees with more than just his eyes.

Warnings: canon violence, canon language, canon talk of death, methods of kill

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Criminal Minds. All credit goes to their respective owners. If there are any warnings that exceed the normal death/kills from the show, I will list them. If you’ve seen the show, then it’s the same level of angst unless otherwise stated

x

You drive back to the police station and see JJ, Emily, and Penelope looking at the board with all the victims on it. You join the group and look at all the victims on the board.

"He sure does like his blondes. Not a good date, though. Too stabby," Penelope says.

"Less so with Michelle and the girl we found this morning. We profiled that he must have known her with the way she was found. I think she caught him in the act or even saw the report on the news. He had to have killed her to keep his secret," you say. "His name is also Vincent. He was caught on footage in a camera shop when he bought tiny cameras for his glasses."

"Every one of these murders happens during a month in Spring. Spring must be the stressor for Vincent."

"Do you think my video was done in the Spring?"

"There's a good chance."

"Okay. The 80s, Spring, and Buffalo. I will search for homicides and see if I can make a connection."

Penelope gets to work on her laptop.

"All of the victims except for Michelle were killed within a year of each other. Victim ten, Joyce Wolcott, was stabbed thirty-two times, and Michelle was stabbed just once two years later. What's missing from Michelle's murder is any sign of rage or overkill. Instead, on the tape we see signs of remorse. A complete and sudden emotional change. It's absolutely fascinating."

"I was just thinking the same thing," you grin at your boyfriend.

"I love you Reid and Y/N, but the stuff you find fascinating is sad. Okay, the woman in my video looks a lot like the ones on your board, don't you think?"

Penelope shows the clearest picture of the woman she can get.

"He's killing her over and over again."

"Guys, there was an actual witness in Joyce's murder. A young boy. Her son. His name is Stanley."

Penelope looks up the details of Joyce's murder as quickly as she can.

"Neighbors called the police when they heard her son screaming for his mother. They were both found in the backyard, and she was dead."

"He saw the whole thing?" you gasp.

"If he did, why didn't the unsub kill the only living witness? Did they interview him? Did he see the killer?"

"He didn't see anything. He's blind from birth."

"Where is he now?" you wonder.

"He was foster-homed after her death. His father died in a car accident years before this."

"Tell me he's still in Buffalo."

"He is. I'm sending over the address now."

"I'll call Derek and Rossi from the car. Thanks, Pen." You text Derek and Rossi from the car and meet up with them at Stanley's house. There is a young boy sitting on the front porch reading a book in Braille. "How's a going? We're looking for Stanley Wolcott."

"Who wants to know?"

"My name is Y/N. I'm with the FBI."

"FBI? Cool," he chuckles.

Something clicks inside your head, and you take a wild shot in the dark.

"Is today your birthday?"

"Can I help you?" Kate comes out before Stanley can answer.

Kate is Stanley's foster mom whom he's been living with for a while.

"Yes, I'm Agent Y/N, this is Agent Derek Morgan and Agent Dave Rossi. We're with the FBI. I'm sorry to do this today of all days, but we need to talk to Stanley. It's urgent."

Stanley and Kate escort you inside their house to talk in private.

"How long have you had Stanley?"

"Nine months. The adoption papers came through last week, so we're moving to California." Stanley walks away from his mom and clicks his tongue to navigate his way. "Uh, Stanley's been blind since birth. His mom didn't want him to use a cane, so he clicks. It's called echolocation. It's where the sound bounces off objects, kind of like a bat uses sonar."

"I'm the Batman," Stanley grins.

Derek walks over to him and kneels down to be on his level even though Stanley is looking nowhere near where Derek's face is.

"Hey, batman. My colleagues and I need to ask you some questions."

Stanley reaches out to touch Derek's face since this is how he sees what people look like.

"This is about my mom, isn't it?"

"Yeah, it is."

"Have you found him? I can feel a lie."

"We're looking for him, Stan. We could use your help. Now, what I'm asking you to do probably won't be easy."

"Will it help you catch him?"

"It might."

"Are you sure about this?" Kate asks nervously not knowing exactly what Derek is going to do.

"It's okay. I want to do this."

"Okay, two years ago on that night, you were playing in the snow with your mom, right?"

"Yeah. She said my lips were turning blue. She told me to go in and get warm. She said it was getting dark. I went inside and started to take off my clothes to get warm, but she didn't come back in." Stanley is brought back to that night and looks distressed. "Mom? Mom!"

You get tears at the pain he must be feeling.

"Stanley, what do you hear?"

"The snow is so thick. It covers the house and the yard. Everything's so quiet. I called her but she doesn't call back. I thought I heard my mom."

"Is she talking?"

"Crying."

"What do you do now?"

"Go outside."

"You're doing good, Stanley. You're doing really good. I'm right here, okay? Can you hear your mom now?"

"No. I can't hear anything. I feel... Someone was there. I felt someone there. It's not my mom," he whimpers.

"Okay, that's enough," Kate says and steps behind her son.

"He saw me, didn't he?"

"Yeah, he did."

Hotch calls Rossi to tell him there is another stabbing with someone that looks like Vincent. You hate to bring all this up with Stanley and leave him, but that's exactly what you do. Lynne and Hotch meet up with you at the location where Vincent stabbed someone and left a witness. Two men were going to jump and rob Vincent when he stabbed one of them but not before he was shot. The other one ran away before he was killed like his friend.

When you get there, Hotch and Lynne are talking to the witness who came back.

"He just came out of nowhere. He rolled up on us," he lied.

"Which way was he walking?"

"That way," the kid points east.

"He's heading East."

"So, let me get this straight. You and your friend attempt to rob the guy, your friend shoots the man, he defends himself, and you did nothing? You ran away and called 911?"

"I'm done talking, Fed. I ain't saying nothin'. I want my lawyer."

"You'll get a lawyer. Answer my question," Hotch glares.

"He shot him once," he sighs.

"Where?"

"In the stomach."

"What was he doing when you rolled up on him?" Derek asks.

"He had his head down and was walking real fast like he was late for something."

"When he didn't give you what you wanted, what did he do?"

"At first nothing. He just started making this noise with his tongue."

"What kind of noise?"

The kid shrugs and you step forward.

"Listen to me. Was it like this?" You click your tongue in the same way Stanley did.

"Yeah, just like that." You look back at Derek and Rossi worriedly. "Exactly like that. He slammed Jay with a knife and turned and came after me."

"It's called Echolocation. The tenth victim left behind a blind son who uses echolocation to get around."

"How would the killer know that?"

"Because he saw the boy was blind the night he killed his mother. I think that's why he didn't kill the boy. Today's that kid's birthday. He's the event."

"Henderson, get units to meet us at 6518 Cantwell Drive right now," Derek says.

You rush over there as soon as you can but Stanley is already gone. Vincent must have taken him right after you left. Kate hears the sirens and comes rushing out of the house with tears streaming down her eyes.

"He's gone! He's gone. I thought he was in his room. He said he was tired."

"When was the last time you checked on him?"

"Twenty minutes ago. I just don't understand. He would have had to pass me to get out."

"When you checked on him, was he asleep?"

"He was under the covers."

"Did you hear anything?"

"I heard a car horn beep twice. I looked out the window, but I didn't see anything."

"He's gotta have at least twenty minutes on us," Derek sighs.

"He's gonna kill him, isn't he?" she cries.

"Let's just take a look inside."

You walk inside the house and see Stanley standing by his door. When you walk closer to him, he walks further from you. Vincent is outside the window helping him through. Both of them run to the car that's waiting by the curb. Stanley didn't seem scared. He knows Vincent. You look down and see blood on the window sill.

"There's blood here."

"Oh, God," Kate whispers.

"No, it's not Stan's. I think the man who took him was injured. It's his blood. We think his name is Vincent."

"Vincent?" she gasps. "Stan knew him before he came to me. He's known him for over a year because Vincent was a registered helper in a mentoring program. He comes around from time to time to talk to Stanley."

"Which one?"

"Oh, God. Stan has belonged to so many programs. I can't remember where he met Vincent," she groans.

Derek calls Penelope for further assistance.

"Garcia, we got a name. Vincent."

"Morgan, I'm gonna need a surname, honey."

"She can't remember."

"Can you at least cross-reference Vincent's name with all of the mentor organizations in Buffalo?"

"I think we'll get more from the video."

"We're running out of time. He has the kid."

"Trust me, okay? Give me a second." Penelope types as fast as she can and gets an article published in the mid-80s. "That's her. That's the woman from the film. Her name is Kim Rowlings who was killed in her home. When police arrived, they found her son Vincent Rowlings sitting with the body of his murdered mother. Police believe that he sat with her for more than twenty-four hours."

"He was only nine years old," JJ says from beside Penelope. "He filmed his mother's murder and hid the tape from the police all these years."

"I found it. Vincent Rowlings, 5605 Pearl Street on the East side in Buffalo."

"Tell Hotch we're en route," Emily says.

"They found his address," Derek says to Rossi.

Hotch, Spencer, and Emily head over to Vincent's house, but he isn't there. They find his studio set up where he edits his murders, including his mother's. Penelope calls Hotch and brings in Derek so that you're all communicating on one line. Derek places her on speakerphone so everyone can hear.

"Hotch, you've got Rossi, Y/N, and Morgan."

"We have Stan's foster mother, Kate, here. Stanley is missing, and there's blood on the windowsill."

"Kate, did Vincent take Stan out? Was there a favorite place they liked to go to?" Hotch asks.

"No, I only allow him to see Stan under this roof and with my supervision. He's been coming around more since I told him we were moving away."

"When did you tell Vincent that?"

"Like a week ago. Why?"

"He killed Michelle a week ago. That must be the stressor that triggered Vincent's behavior change."

"Kate, Vincent wrote the number twenty-nine with a circle around it numerous times. Today is the 29th. We believe the circle may represent a specific location. They would have talked about it, or he might even have taken him there before. Did Vincent talk to Stan about adventures that they could take? Places they could visit?"

"I don't know," she sighs in frustration.

"What are Stanley's favorite things to do?" you ask.

"He likes to build things. Vincent used to help him."

Kate shows you the construction sets that are made from plastic. Among them is a ferric wheel that Vincent helped Stan make.

"The Ferris Wheel is a circle. When did they build this?"

"Over the last couple of months. He's been in here every night."

"Garcia, check Buffalo and the surrounding areas for any theme parks, permanent or visiting," Derek says.

"There's a theme park just outside of Buffalo that's happening right now."

"Does it have a Ferris Wheel?"

"Yes."

"Let's go."

Your team meets up with Hotch's team even though Hotch isn't with them. He stayed behind to go over the footage of who else could be victims at the hands of Vincent. There are a ton of people here but you know exactly what Vincent and Stan's energies look like. You don't waste time trying to find out where they are because you can just follow the trail.

"Follow me!"

No one argues with you and follows behind as you run through the theme park. The Ferris Wheel is in the very back of the theme park, and you stop once you reach it. You look to the top and see Vincent and Stan there talking. He looks over and sees the FBI. He knows he's not getting out of this, but since he has an untreated gunshot wound, you don't know if he's going to be alive for much longer.

"I need you to get this kid off the wheel. Do it now." The attendant moves the Ferris Wheel so that the car in which Vincent is in is lowered to the ground. You don't have to touch Vincent to know that he's dead. He knew he was going to die and wanted to bring Stanley here. "Okay, now open it."

"What's going on?" Stanley asks.

"Stanley, it's Derek from the FBI. It's okay. You're going to be okay."

"Vincent, what's going on?"

"Listen to me. I need you to come with me. Let go of Vincent. Just come with me. I'm getting you out of here."

Derek picks Stan up, but the small child looks to where he thinks Vincent is.

"Vincent?"

Derek brings Stan over to an unoccupied bench while Lynne checks to see if Vincent is alive. Kate rushes through the crowd and hugs her son tightly.

"Honey!" she cries.

Derek tries to leave to give them a moment but Stanely stops him.

"Derek?"

Derek walks back over to Stanely and kneels so that Stan can feel his face.

"What's up, kid?"

"Did he kill my mom?"

Stan can feel a lie so if Derek lies, then he'll have his answer. Though, he doesn't say anything to him. Stanley breaks out in tears and cries against his foster mom's chest.

"No matter how dark the moment, love and hope are always possible." - George Chakiris

x

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[soundbodys]

AMBROSE BASSFORD: autism?

hi!!!! welcome to part 1 of "i've got some thoughts on adamandi" >:) i have some other analysis that i do want to share about other things, not just randomly diagnosing fictional characters! but this post is about ambrose being on the autism spectrum <3

i'm not a medical professional by any means, but this is just coming from both my experience as an autistic person and the research i've been able to do about the disorder. and other people's experiences! please dont come for me if things are just a touch inaccurate. without further ado: lets fucking gooooooooo!

[ID: ambrose bassford with his hands on vincent lin's shoulders. he is looking into the distance with a determined look in his eye. vincent looks towards him with concern. end ID]

(please excuse my terrible quality screenshots. um. yeah.)

i'll also preface this by saying that yes, much of this is also informed by his status as a transgender student in the early-mid 1900s. i still think it's fun to analyze and compare my (and others') experiences to his!

THE MARMORIUS SOCIETY

[ID: preston monterey and adrian farthington (or miscellaneous marmorei) putting a letterman jacket on ambrose. ambrose is smiling. there is a caption at the bottom reading "rooftops that nobody frequents where secret societies meet" in all caps. end ID]

firstly, i will address the marmorius society. i'm fairly certain that the marmorei in "word to the wise" are meant more to represent the then-present-now-past members that welcomed ambrose freshman year rather than preston and adrian, but thats ok. what matters more is the subtext in word to the wise that we can glean from the choreography and interactions between ambrose and vincent. beginning the song, and similarly his freshman year, ambrose struggles to fit in like each of the other students entering ardess. he initially seems more comfortable interacting with vincent, but then gets taken in by the marmorei. this is exactly where his mannerism and attitude shift

here, we see ambrose fitting in (or, making an attempt to) with the other marmorei. from vincent's account, we know that ambrose's actions and behaviors almost completely changed after becoming part of the society. this is a really roundabout way of saying hey, ambrose found a place where he thinks he might belong! rather than learning and adapting to normal and regular social rules, he latches onto and mimics a very specific subset of people. to him, they know what they are doing and they have a way of being social that he can't understand so he mimics instead of just adjusting the way he already was. this mimicking makes a bit of sense in that he's not quite conforming to social cues (he still doesn't exactly fit in), but he's trying to. it feels to me a bit like how it is to feel alienated from your peers, even though you are trying your hardest to mask. of course, his "off"-ness is also contributed to by his transness so take that as you will.

2. WHAT DID HE JUST SAY?

[ID: ambrose is standing facing vincent. vincent is facing him with his hands to his back uncomfortably. the caption reads. "i've been looking to include more variations in body type." end ID]

this one is shorter than the marmorius society bulletpoint. actually, most of them are. that one is long winded. ANYWAY, ambrose is kind of... interesting when it comes to his interactions. specifically, he encourages vincent to join the marmorei by saying he's been "looking to include more variations in body type." to him, he's being completely honest and genuinely wants vincent to take interest in his phaethon project. unfortunately, to both vincent and much of the audience, this comes off as comically insensitive at best or offensive at worst. this comes from a lack of awareness of social cues, similar to the lack of knowledge of social norms from the previous bulletpoint. while he knows how to conform to the marmorei, there is still a lot of social cues he needs to work on. often, autistic people will speak bluntly and honestly in their communication. this is really not that far off, even if it was just a little gag!

3. OMG, SENSORY ISSUES!

[ID: caption reading, "he didn't eat the apple because he said he didn't like how its flesh felt on the skin of his thumbs." end ID]

kind of self explanatory. all metaphors aside, ambrose doesn't like the flesh of a peeled apple on his thumbs. i understand (<- i loooove peeled apples though)

4. BLACK AND WHITE THINKING: IF NOT ME, WHO?

[ID: lyrics reading, "if i was stronger i could fix this; / cut the bad and leave the good / be the marble and the sculptor / like my father says i should." end ID]

[ID: lyrics reading, "so my parents and my girlfriend / my closest friends and you / will know i deserve their love / once there's no more work to do / there are only three people who'll be perfect in their eyes / me, myself, and i" end ID]

two screenshots! often, autism causes what can be called "black and white" or polarized thinking. it's like, there's only one solution or there are only the extremes (although, this isn't to be confused with the black and white thinking associated with BPD. i don't have experience on that but ive heard quincy and vincent can fit the bill). for ambrose, there's only one solution to both his dysphoria and distorted self worth: becoming the perfect man by... becoming marble or whatever. as if there is only ONE way to do this, without alternative methods. i sometimes find myself in the same spiral, and have meltdowns either when it doesn't work out or if i'm offered an alternative solution that goes against what i thought might work. even in the second screenshot here, we see that he thinks the only way to earn love is through this specific task. he cannot be unconvinced, even if vincent tries to offer him an alternative solution.

5. WHY APOLLO, BOYS?

[ID: ambrose is hanging off a ladder, his hand out and mouth open singing. the caption reads, "apollo's look is yours: sound body, sound mind" in all caps. end ID]

this is where i dip more into the headcanon territory than i already have. i couldn't really include every screenshot where he talks about a) apollo, b) sculpture, or c) fitness. this is kind of part of his character in general but i like to think of it as his special interests. it's remarkable how many autistic people i know who have majored in something related to their spinterests (including myself! in a way)

6. DON'T FLATTER YOURSELF, LIN!

[ID: vincent awkwardly puts a hand on ambrose's arm, ambrose looks at him longingly. end ID]

ambrose... did not interpret the social cues correctly in the scene directly after "sound body, sound mind." it's really just written in the text, but just in case, i will remind you that vincent pretty much says "hey, i kind of strived to be like you because i had this incorrect assumption of who you were, sorry about that lol" and ambrose took it all wrong and thought this was a romantic advance. he just... didn't interpret it right. honest mistake, but a very common mistake among autistic people. and, unrelated to the autism thing, his comeback isn't smooth at all lmao

THERE YOU HAVE IT! i'm sure there could be more to be said, but my hands hurt (disability) and i can't think of any more off the top of my head. feel free to add on with anything you want to say!!!! thank you for reading!!!! here's the sillies for you, as a reward for getting this far :)

[ID: preston, ambrose, and adrian with their arms on each others' shoulders, stepping in sync. end ID]

[my-castles-crumbling]

if your still looking for some prompts… here’s a dialogue one for drarry: “are you drunk?”

Pairing: Drarry, Rating: T, Universe: Hogwarts Eighth Year, Warnings: 18-year-olds drinking, angst

Tomorrow, it would be a year.

A year since the Dark Lord had fallen, a year since Vincent had died, a year since life had changed forever.

He tried to feel grateful, to stay positive and thankful and humble, but it was hard. It was hard to look at the bright side- that he was alive and so was his family- when he had to dodge hateful curses daily and visit his father in Azkaban on a monthly basis.

Hogwarts had been a condition of his probation- a year of being looked after and watched closely by the Professors and the other students. He'd been indifferent about it at first. At least until he'd found out Potter was returning as well.

Potter had gotten multiple offers for jobs- the Aurors, the Cursebreakers, the Unspeakables. Why he'd chosen to return to school was beyond Draco. But somehow, they both ended up back in Scotland, students again, and at a clear crossroads.

But it had been clear very quickly that neither was in any place to want to fight- Draco was done with war in any sense of the word, and Potter was shockingly forlorn for someone who had taken down the most powerful dark wizard of all time, thereby saving most of his friends and family.

Really, every time Draco witnessed someone thank Potter, or even addressed his past efforts at all, Potter seemed downright mournful.

And Draco couldn't help but staring at Potter, following his every move, watching, a tad too transfixed, as Potter blundered his way through their eighth year. Perhaps it was the way Potter seemed to want to disappear into the very floorboards of the castle when he got attention, or the way Potter seemed almost haunted in his expressions. Or maybe it was the fact that, for the first time, Draco was able to acknowledge his more-carnal emotions and admit that Potter was quite fit and not at all bad to look at.

But it was undeniable that both he and Potter were struggling.

So, with less than twenty hours until the "Battle of Hogwarts Memorial Gala," Draco was only a little surprised to see Potter sitting alone by the lake, staring out into the dark water. He was more surprised by the bottle of firewhiskey accompanying the Chosen One.

"Potter...are you drunk?" he asked before he could stop himself, making the other man jump.

Potter got ahold of himself and chuckled. "That's the goal."

Draco knit his eyebrows together. "Why?"

"It helps me forget. Care to join?" Potter muttered, waving the bottle towards Draco.

It was all he could do not to ask if he was being pranked. Instead, he sat down hesitantly, wrapping his long fingers around the bottle. Figuring if he was going to play into this insanity, he might as well go for broke, he took a large swig, relishing a bit in the burn in his throat. "Would've thought you'd be...dunno...celebrating," he murmured, passing the bottle back to Potter.

Most people were. He knew that all of the houses were having parties tonight, and there were going to be afterparties again tomorrow. Though people were obviously mourning the anniversary of the death of loved ones, the date was mostly a reminder that Voldemort was gone, and parties seemed like the most logical way to celebrate that.

Not that Draco felt he should participate.

"Can't see celebrating a night that was so devastating," Potter replied, slurring only a little.

And for once, Draco agreed. He took another drink from the bottle and didn't reply.

"They want me to make a stupid speech tomorrow," Potter offered, not meeting his eyes. "Talk about...hope and...Merlin, and bright futures and how everything's fucking lovely now."

Draco couldn't help but snort derisively.

"S'bullshit, isn't it?" Potter asked, finally turning to him. "People are dead and I--we are still...still hurting...but let's send this message of-- of like-- fucking optimism, or something. Meanwhile, I have no idea what to do with my life, we graduate in a month, and I still can't get...these images of everyone I care about dying out of my head."

Draco felt his heart clench. It was almost insane to realize, but he could relate to what Potter was saying. He had no idea what to do with himself now that the war was over. So much of his every waking thought had been wrapped around how to stay alive and keep the people he cared about alive. Now...now he didn't know what to do with all that emptiness in his brain. And celebration seemed like an odd concept with people dead and displaced and rebuilding and he still couldn't get over the feeling that Voldemort was constantly watching him- living with the Dark Lord could do that to you.

And it seemed, amazingly, Potter could understand a lot of that.

It seemed the alcohol was also starting to hit his bloodstream, because his only reply was, "What if we both go away? To...to America, or something? Just disappear. Wonder what they'd do?"

It was just the first thing he thought, the first thing that popped into his head, a wish to get away from everything and everyone. But Potter gave him an odd look. "Together?" he asked incredulously.

But now the idea was intriguing and even though they no longer fought like children, Draco still felt like he couldn't show weakness in front of Potter, so he couldn't back down. So instead, he threw Potter a challenging grin and teased, "You've gotten multiple offers from the Aurors, Potter. I think you could handle one Death Eater if things go South."

But the light in Potter's eyes faltered. "Ex Death Eater. R-right?" he corrected, a bit unsure of himself.

Draco faltered, too, smile sliding off of his face. "Merlin, Potter. Y-yes, I mean, if we're being technical-"

"But...you regret it, right?" the other man asked, studying him closely.

It was a difficult question, and one not best answered while under the influence of alcohol, but Draco took another swig and did his best. "I...I was trying to protect my family. Myself. Surely you understand...I thought I had no choice," he took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. "But I never wanted to hurt anyone. And I never...I know how wrong I was. About-- about blood, and its importance. I'm trying to learn."

It was true. Though Muggle Studies was another condition of his probation, he had thrown himself into his studies, and realized that Muggles were rather interesting. He even had developed a lot of respect for them- it took a lot of intelligence, he realized, to find ways to survive without magic.

He had also taken the time to write apology letters to every Muggleborn he'd bullied, talking extra care with Granger's letter. He still found her to be an annoying know-it-all, and he told her so, but he respected her intellect and power.

"Hmm..." Harry hummed in response to his answer.

"Why do you care?" Draco asked before he could stop himself.

"What?"

"Why do you care whether or not I regret it?" Draco clarified, narrowing his eyebrows.

Harry shrugged, but he turned a bit pink. "It...it makes it a bit easier that you do, I guess," he said vaguely.

And Draco had no idea what that meant.

"D'you ever wonder what it'd be like if he didn't exist? Voldemort?" Harry asked, laying back on the grass lazily.

Draco contemplated that. He couldn't imagine that-- what would Potter have been like if he was raised with parents and without a price on his head? "In what way?"

"Dunno. For us, for example," Harry whispered.

He chuckled. "Do you really think it would've been that different? I can't see a world in which we would've-- what?-- been childhood friends?"

Harry also laughed, but said, "You never know. The Hat considered putting me in Slytherin."

"Bullshit," Draco retorted without thinking.

"Nah. I told it not to because--" Harry started laughing in earnest, now, "--well, amongst other things, because I thought you were a prat."

And the alcohol in Draco's system stopped him from being defensive at this, instead drawing embarrassing snorts from him that made his face turn pink.

And before long, they were both in a full-blown fit of laughter, laying next to each other, tears of mirth running down their faces.

And for the first time in a very long time, Draco felt alive.

"H- Potter?" Draco asked as their laughter died down. "You- you should skip the Gala tomorrow." He wasn't sure where the suggestion had come from, but he was pretty confident it was the right idea, now.

And Harry met his eyes and looked at him for a long time before murmuring, "Only if you skip with me."

And Draco found himself giving a small smile and nodding, actually looking forward to the next day.

---

Keep sending requests, guys! I love them!

I decided to post this one! Please leave comments and kudos here!

[lucem-stellarum]

Time for some crack theories. Leading up to the Summitt, William has put a lot of pressure on Vincent for no reason that he can explain. From everything we've seen so far, William does seem to care for and love his progeny. Vincent also says that William enjoys "moving the pieces", playing the manipulative game of politics. Vincent is happy being just a game piece, not a player. So why throw Vincent in the deep end of running a Summit with no training, no warning, no explanation?

If he's looking to abdicate something he supposedly enjoys, he also has two heirs. From everything we've heard so far, Alexis isn't well suited to running the clan. To be fair to her, we've literally only ever heard from biased sources about her worst mistakes (turning Sam, the times she's been invoked) and criticisms about her flaws. We've never met her ourselves, and William must see something in her worth forgiving. There's no guarantee that vampire inheritance follows primogenitor. (Inheritance among immortal beings must be fascinating, but let's not get distracted).

So, this situation that William has engineered is for Vincent specifically, and I don't believe he plans to pass down the crown. This is a different kind of test (though he probably has multiple motives, and making sure Vincent is capable of managing the clan's affairs isn't a drawback). What if the "old friend" who asked Porter to come back to Dahlia was William. Even if he wasn't banished forever, just encouraged to take a sabbatical while both he and Vincent calmed down after their fight, I think Porter has enough respect for William to not come back without his say-so, or a damned good reason. Porter hasn't implied he got into enough trouble to need the protection of his clan that he couldn't handle on his own.

So William is putting pressure on Vincent's familial, professional, and personal ties. Why would he do this now, after all the stress of Lovely, Adam, and the Inversion? What changed to make him want to test Vincent at this specific time? What if this isn't a test for Vincent, not entirely? (Again, keeping in mind William is smart enough to be pursuing multiple motives at the same time, but right now I'm talking about the biggest driving factor). What if this is a test for Lovely?

They're the single biggest change in Vincent's life right now. They're his mate, they've made promises of eternity to each other. Vampires mean that literally. But William has only known Lovely for what... 3 years? For someone who can literally spend decades getting to know someone that had to seem awfully fast for some nobody to go from meeting, to killing one of his clan members (Adam), to taking up with his progeny and prince and causing a major personality shift (for the better, yes, but still a dramatic change), to getting turned and joining his family in eternity.

William isn't worried about Vincent, not entirely. He's concerned about Lovely. About how they'll handle the power and responsibility reflected on them from Vincent's status. William's worried that they won't support Vincent in the way that he needs instead of the way that he wants, that they'll be able to tell the difference between the two. He's worried that, now that Lovely has all this power and freedom at their fingertips, especially considering the fact that Vincent gave up his powers of invocation as their maker, that they might turn and run (whether that's physically or emotionally) when things get difficult.

William is taking the opportunity to take control of all these factors to prove Lovely can handle it all to his satisfaction, instead of letting fate and chance dictate the details. If they succeed, they can truly be considered part of the clan. Earning their crown. And if they fail, William can take the steps he thinks are necessary. To protect his clan. To protect his son. Whether Vincent wants him to or not.

[tea-you-later-losers]

OKAY SO!!! pspspsp @guyandremy please meet my two Stardew farmers Georgia a.k.a George and Bee :))) i have little artistic skills atm so i instead used this stardew portrait maker

GEORGIA:

nicknamed George. Grampa George finds this funny but wont ever admit to it. Calls her Grandma Evelyn calls her the young Georgie :)))

TALL!! STRONG!! WIFE!!!! Former athlete who settled on her grandpa's farm after college because she didn't want to go professional and thought it'd be nice to keep the farm in the family (rip gramps things are well taken care of)

best friends-eventually-girlfriends with Bee who joined her a year or two after George gets the farm fully up and running again

Likes her eggs scrambled and adores her favorite chicken is a brown hen named Lucille

Much more organized than her partner, and if it wasn't for her the farm would subsist on foraging alone woman is the most competent

Enjoys fishing on the occasion but mostly its spent looking at the things Bee finds in the tide pools to show her

Friends with Alex and Shane bonding over Sports Balls on the weekend

Favorite clothes: works in an old t shirt and jeans, hangs out in a hoodie and athletic shorts her mom has told her are too old and need replaced but if its not falling off of her than whats a few holes? its still good for lounge wear, mom

adopted a german shepard and named him Rooster - he's the best farm dog a girl could ask for <333. The farm's horse is named Tornado after the beanie baby horse she had as a kid (former horse girl? yes!)

BEE:

they're so silly lmao

a gremlin for sure, a little messy, but good at detail work since they can focus on lots of small things (oddly enough the one to cover the finances of the farm while George does more of the actual labor)

They met George when they were teens and they've been best friends since, then in college they started to date and know they live together :))) life's beautiful like that sometimes

a dinosaur autistic thru and thru this totally isnt me projecting onto them ANYWAYS the little dino outfit you can make your farmer is their comfy clothes for rainy days and any other day they can get away with it

Made fast friends with Jas and Vincent while playing with them in the Forest. They sometimes help Penny with lessons and activities.

loves foraging its like a scavenger hunt with no checklist and more dirt. as above likes to join Georgia on her fishing trips so they can wade through tide pools and see what critters are hanging out

dabbles in the different artisan goods but doesnt really stick to one overall - it gets boring after a while and you can only eat so much jam (although they will never say no to a jar of blackberry jam tyvm)

in college got a cat named Skateboard and brought her with them to the farm. She loves the porch and hates the sprinklers

(they like to put Skateboard and Rooster in little hats and outfits much to the delight of the dog and distaste of the cat)

if you read this far you are 100% encouraged to ask questions and tell me more about yours

[carf-writes]

Batman Timeline (Personal Canon)

Early Years

Martha Kane, granddaughter of a prominent city planner, and Thomas Wayne, the heir to the Wayne fortune, meet and fall in love in college. Thomas pursues a medical degree and sets up a free clinic with his friend, Dr. Leslie Thompkins. Martha becomes a prominent philanthropist. They have one son, Bruce Thomas Wayne.

When Bruce is a child, gangster Vincent Falcone brings his badly wounded son, Carmine, who had been shot several times by his rival, Luigi Maroni, to Thomas Wayne. Fearing Maroni would finish the job at a public hospital, he begs Wayne, one of the city's best doctors, to perform surgery at Wayne Manor. A young Bruce Wayne watches his father save Falcone's life. Thomas explains his personal philosophy and belief in the Hippocratic Oath to Bruce in the aftermath. (Batman: Year One)

Bruce’s parents are killed by Joe Chill when he is eight years old after attending an opera of Faust. Joe Chill is arrested and convicted but there is speculation that there might be something more behind the crime. Many in Gotham consider it an assassination and compare it to the death of JFK.

At the funeral, Carmine Falcone approaches Bruce and offers his condolences. Bruce instantly recognizes him as evil. Meanwhile, Alfred, the family butler, speaks to Martha’s brother, Jacob Kane, and asks him and his wife to take in Bruce. Jacob, who has always resented Thomas, refuses citing the fact that he and his wife are both active duty in the military. Bruce overhears and runs away. Alfred tracks him down and promises to look after him until a suitable guardian can be found.

Bruce re-watches his father’s favorite movie, The Mark of Zorro (1940), and asks Alfred to teach him to fence so he can be like Zorro and stop the bad guys. Alfred, both a classically trained stage actor and former British Special Forces medic, agrees. When Bruce is faced with a bully at his prep school, Alfred also teaches him boxing and judo.

Bruce becomes obsessed with criminology and spends most of his time studying true crime cases, forensics techniques, and philosophy on the nature of evil. Alfred, concerned about his charge’s mental health, seeks out help from the psychologist, Hugo Strange. Intrigued by Bruce’s unique mental state, Strange chooses to psychologically torment Bruce instead. When Alfred stops the sessions and reports Strange, he disappears. Bruce is left with a phobia of anyone “trying to pry into his head”.

Bruce attends highschool at the prestigious Deerford Academy upstate as a boarding student where Alfred hopes he will escape the influence of Gotham. Bruce becomes popular and joins the fencing team. He also becomes friends with Harvey Dent, a scholarship kid, while becoming rivals with an older student, Jack Drake. He often gets in trouble for sneaking out at night but later, uncovers an embezzlement scheme within the administration.

Over a summer break, after being dumped by his girlfriend, Bruce attempts to fake his own death and disappear into the wilderness Chris McCandless style. Alfred tracks him down and scolds him for doing it so poorly. After their car is swept away in a flood, Alfred and Bruce spend two weeks fending for themselves in the wild as they trek back to civilization. Bruce considers this a positive experience.

Bruce graduates early and attends college at Ivy University for two years. He graduates from there early as well and dissatisfied with his life attends Gotham University Medical School at the age of 18. He forms a friendship with an undergrad student taking additional classes, Harleen Quinzel, and begins a romance with fellow student, Andrea Beaumont. Bruce vacillates between the promise he made to his murdered parents to fight crime versus starting a married life with Andrea, which he feels his parents would have wanted for him. When they are threatened by muggers while leaving a theater, Bruce flies into a rage and attacks the men. He is struck over the head and wakes up in the hospital. Andrea is frightened by his extreme reaction to the muggers and by his sudden marriage proposal when he wakes up. She breaks up with him.

Bruce drops out of Med School at 19 and leaves Gotham to live as a nomad under an alias. He trains with investigators, man hunters, fighters and monks while getting into the mind of the criminal element, intent on finding some way to destroy crime in Gotham- especially the mob.

While Bruce is away, Alfred arranges lavish birthday parties for Bruce with exclusive invites for the young, wealthy, and beautiful. They are usually the parties of the year and so talked about that no one seems to notice that Bruce Wayne never attends them. It becomes tradition that a young man who roughly fits Bruce’s description is appointed the Bruce Wayne of the party though technically this is done unintentionally. Only an old classmate from Deerford Academy, Oliver Queen, seems to notice but he doesn’t mind.

Bruce is recruited to the League of Assassins and begins to train under Ra’s al Ghul who claims to share his goals. While there Bruce meets Talia al Ghul, Ra’s’ daughter, and Minhkhoa Khan, the son of a Singaporean business man who wants to become a vigilante as a form of art. They form a love triangle until Bruce leaves the League of Assassins when he realizes Ra’s is really an eco-fascist who wants to destroy Gotham.

Part 1 of ?

Next Part

[openshanklygates]

What Is Righteous

Whumpril 2024 April 1, 2024 LIMP Tyler Bateman/Savannah O'Ryan (Original Character) Main Verse

These new friends her Vincent found himself surrounded with were not exactly the kind of men that made Savannah O'Ryan comfortable. Maybe it was because she was still stuck on how exactly Vincent had joined up with said new friends. The betrayal of the man she loved against her brother, TK O'Ryan, and the man she considered a brother, Matt Taven, had been something that broke her at the core. Meeting these new friends had not been any better. But Savannah was a bleeding heart, so seeing anyone who needed a home tugged at her heartstrings.

Tyler Bateman reminded Savannah of a Victorian gentleman in a way. It was in the way he carried himself, using a cane to work as a fashion statement instead of a support. The top hat he wore added to the mystique, though she knew it was all in the mustache. The way it twisted at both ends, as if curled perfectly, stood out to the young manager. It made Tyler unique, even alongside the larger of Vincent's new friends, a simple man by the name of Dutch, and even Vincent himself. It was that uniqueness that almost always drew her attention when he was around. That wasn't the case tonight.

Vincent, acting as the benevolent leader of his new team The Righteous, had chosen Bateman as the representative for the team in the annual Survival of the Fittest tournament. If Bateman could qualify, could make his presence felt, it would undoubtedly lead to glory for the team. The problem was that Bateman had lost to Bandido, had not moved on to the qualifier. The honor was lost and Vincent was not pleased. Before he had led Dutch and Savannah to the ring, she had tried to plead with him. "Vincent, darlin', please. He's your friend, ain't he? You ain't gotta be mad at him..."

Vincent had simply given her the smile that did not reach his eyes, carding a hand through her wavy blonde hair, "I gotta do what has to be done, Vannah. Ya dig what I'm sayin'?"

Now here the three stood, circled around Bateman who sat looking dejected in the center of the ring.

"You know I would never lie to you like the rest of society, man," Vincent began, sitting down cross-legged on the mat next to Bateman, "I know you were born with the devil in ya. I mean, that's why I gave you the mission, man. And you've done amazing! You've done such a good job! But on my journey alongside the orange sunshine, I had a moment of clarity, and I've realized what's been important to me now. And that's the Ring of Honor World Championship."

He had sounded happy for a moment. Savannah stood in the corner, watching the tears in Bateman's eyes. He really had done well, despite his loss. Dutch stood behind Bateman, never faltering, never wavering. Savannah often wondered if the former clown knew more than he let on in situations like these. Vincent's hand reached out to touch the openly sobbing Bateman's shoulder and Savannah expected a moment of praise. Her blood ran cold the moment Vincent spoke again.

"But ya failed me..."

Savannah moved forward and whispered to her beau, "He's upset enough. You-"

Vincent cut her off with a look. The message was clear. This message needed to be passed on, it served a purpose, and she was not to interrupt again. "Death," Vincent continued as he glanced back at Bateman, "is the greatest form of love."

Tyler raised his arms, outstretched to either side, and closed his eyes. Savannah was confused until Vincent glanced from her to the man offering himself as a martyr. Vincent expected her to attack, to be the first nail to the cross. Wordlessly, her blue eyes welled up with pleading tears. She wanted to beg, to ask why they had to sacrifice a friend, but the look in Vincent's eyes was a demand. They had to do this, for the cause.

She had to do this for him.

Savannah booted Tyler in the face, the sole of the black snakeskin boots she always wore landing hard against his cheek. She knelt over the top of him, one hand on his neck and the other throwing weak punches. She wasn't a fighter. She shouldn't be doing this. "I'm sorry," she mouthed at the limp body beneath her, at the friend who offered no fight. Vincent pulled her away after a moment, wrapping his arms around her from behind. Dutch finally moved, pulling Bateman's limp body into a standing position and wrenching his head back to expose Bateman's throat.

"This is what failure brings," Vincent whispered in her ear, pressing a kiss to her hair as Dutch lifted the man for a spinning slam to the hard canvas of the mat, "This is what failing you brings."

She was crying openly now, one of her hands on her red painted lips, "I don't...I don't understand. Why...he's our friend..."

"He's a sacrifice for my goddess," Vincent chuckled, "he will come back better. Stronger."

Vincent let go of her, crossing to exit the ring with Dutch. Savannah knelt at Tyler's side, holding his limp hand in her own. This wasn't right. None of this was right. She slid the flower crown she wore from her head, laying it against Tyler's chest before pressing a tender kiss to his forehead. It may not have been right, but that act of kindness was the least she could do.