#monty / threads.

[brujahinaskirt]

It's not even about the vindication of calling a ship, okay. It's that the supposedly anti woke studio wrote about 3 million words of medieval fiction centering the relationship of the two main characters who are in most ways (or in all ways if you follow the obvious canon momentum of the story) meant for each other, as counterparts who help each other survive the great travails of their lives and who challenge/complete the other to become fuller, braver, kinder people. It's so clear these two people are soulmates, platonically or romantically, something observed consistently by the world around them and by themselves.

Except their society (feudalism, Catholicism) dictates that they are intended to be completely incompatible by nature and divine law. Not just for the obvious fact they are both men, but they are separated by what is arguably an even steeper chasm of social class. Their existence even as friends utterly spites, interrupts, and threatens feudal order right down to its theological and philosophical roots. They should not see each other as human and yet.

It's the fact that they do. The fact that the entire story has been about this--that these two protagonists fit together, undeniably, and grow to love each other fiercely (a love that deepens superbly from their knee-jerk playful puppy-friend-love in kcd1 to something selfless and mature by the end of kcd2). And they do so despite the immense opposition by their world, their social circles, their faith, and indeed their fandom.

And yes, it really does fucking matter that all of this culminates into a deep onscreen romantic love (if you get out of the way and allow it to) between two fandom-beloved male main characters (not just side characters rammed in for an optional gay romance but THE main characters of the duology; the "you" as in the player character and your erstwhile dick-jokes bro you have perhaps grudgingly at first been invited as the audience to love) in a historical fiction story that has been wrongly touted by the worst of our contemporaries as the holy grail of cultural conservatism.

Holy shit. Warhorse -- y'all. I'm sorry I doubted you. So few game writers understand how love works and indeed how people work, let alone translate it so well onto the screen.

Calling this an "optional romance" is not technically incorrect, I suppose, because it's true you can opt out and choose to remain platonic friends. But this language feels like a disservice, as if Henry & Hans's romance is a typical RPG wham-bam fanservice makeout with a minor fan fave character who never interacts meaningfully with the player again. Or as if it's a Bioware-style "give this NPC the right gift and do their side quest and you get to see a jankly ugly-bumpin' montage" situation.

Kingdom Come: Deliverance is so very much not that. The "main, optional" romance scene in question is just one consummation event of two people who have been growing up and falling in love in front of us over the course of some 200-300 (or god knows how many) hours. The fact these protagonists openly love each other is very much not optional.

This is, sincerely, groundbreaking storytelling in this medium and this genre. How fucking cool that we all got to see it now.

[equalperson]

how getting attention feels

[sunsetcurveauto]

Somewhere a mile off, a crow landed on a length of thread, and a single sweet note rose from the plucking. It traveled up the thread until it reached the Thread Boy, and as if summoned by the sound, a nearby cloud split open into a tumult of hail. Hailstones fell, fat as grapes. They bounced off the tightened threads, plink, plink, until the Thread Boy was wrapped in the most beautiful music, and he wept, and dropped the shears, unused. And he would not lift them again—not for anything.

Dead Boy Detectives x Fifty Beasts to Break Your Heart by GennaRose Nethercott - Monty, "The Thread Boy"

[kenmarlenn]

Heads up for those concerned about what Monty may be saying about Ballora behind the censors on recent EAPS episodes! Not meant to be references to sexual harassment or anything like that.

[maggotmouth]

TIME: two-thirty. LOCATION: café marta / group six ; savannah ( @whimsyhearts ), kit ( @distortedblurs ), ava ( @livebedroom ), avarice ( @kismutt ), micah ( @fvlmincre ), maude ( @tra1trs ), juliet ( @lowtieds ) / any stragglers. @langstonstarters NOTES: pls do not reply w more than one paragraph or i will self-delete. i got carried away. do not match length<3

“bored,” monty announces, a festering king unamused by the circle of eunuch jesters his court have provided him with. a sigh like a horse’s whinny pulls deep from his lungs, head thrown back against the wall. only so long he can spend slurping up cardamom flavoured chai lattes before he gets restless like a match on the cusp of being struck. “this is dull as fuck,” his forefinger swipes at an incessant rate against the static background of tiktok, sound leakage overspilling from a solitary earbud hanging casually as a popped-collared marlon brando from his left ear. “why do we have to do a tour, anyway?” he asks his touring partner, in what’s meant to be under his breath, but with his classical training and elocution lessons, comes out as more of a stage whisper. alas, poor yorick... “they’ve got google maps, haven’t they?” despite a history of giving factually-inaccurate tours of the west wing of the family’s buckinghamshire house to unsuspecting fuckwad tourists with a national trust membership, his enthusiasm for showing foppish yanks around is waning. there isn’t the gordon-lennox suite here to wax lyrical about the wild fictitious orgies thrown by his parents in yesteryear, or the library where he insinuated benjamin disraeli had his first blowjob, or the old ruins out by the mill where he’d once told a guest they hosted annual ( illegal ) tiger fights purely for shits and giggles, only to later learn they were from PETA, and thus launching an investigation. unfortunate, but unavoidable. here, there’s simply four walls and a fuck tonne of ‘twee’ furniture cosplaying as hogsmeade.

“listen. fine, fine. we’ll do the tour.” unfolding himself from the armchair he’d flat-pack-furnitured himself down into, monty leaps up, counting out on a signet-ringed finger anything he deems slightly useful. “so this is café marta. or ‘the stodge’ if you’re a local.” ( literally no one except monty and his fellow private school hooray henrys calls it that... ) “they do a perfectly acceptable macchiato, but truth be told the croissants are shit and probably out-sourced, marta’s a saucy little minx, and it’s always full of mopey fucking postgrads crying because they spunked their money up the walls on some useless english degree so…” monty shrugs, tongue clicking against the inside of his cheek, and throws his motorcycle jacket lazily over his shoulders, a slogan cap labelling him ‘daddy’s favourite princess’ tugged down onto his mop of dark hair. “rather than pretend this is useful, why don’t we go somewhere that actually has atmosphere?” there’s a devilish little twinkle in his eye as he singles out each palladian new-comer with a jab of his finger. “rabbithole? rabbithole? what about you, with the teeth?” they really ought to have had those fixed. aren’t the british supposed to be the ones with bad teeth? “you coming rabbithole? fuck it, four o’clock’s the new five o’clock.” it’s actually half-past two, but who’s keeping score. “and by the way, bugs, i know an excellent orthodontist.”

[youllalwaysbemyporcelain]

@coreofgold

Taylor was lost in thought as they sat staring at their phone, trying to figure their next project out when they noticed someone standing in front of them. They looked up, seeing it was Monty. "Oh shit. I'm sorry. Have you been here long? I was lost in thought." They had planned to hang out for the day. "I got here early."

[aletterinthenameofsanity]

Listen, getting the Cat King's voice right while maintaining a character arc is a tricky balancing act when writing this Season 2 AU series. He's such a fascinating character with a trickster core that I don't usually write and I'm pretty sure I've got a grasp on his voice/dynamic with Edwin (the two of them basically being locked in a back-and-forth deals-disguised-as-flirting while being strangely sweet and playful in the midst of their Hades/Persephone deal) but his growing dynamic with Monty is where things are getting interesting. Playing around with the "cat and the bird/predator-prey/Monty's unexpected ability to surprise the Cat King but being unaware of said fact" concept has led to so many small twists/compelling threads in the narrative and I am having so much fun making it work.

[ollieinoue]

Waverly Dorm #202 sometime in the early afternoon [ @montyrichler ]

It had taken a few days for things to not be weird, or awkward. But if him and Monty were really actually going to be friends again then he would commit to it. And it had been a little bit awkward. Any time they were together, Ollie would create a little space between them. Literally. Though slowly over the next few days of the new term beginning the space would shrink -- and maybe it didn't actually take that much time. If it had been anybody but himself and Monty, neither of which had ever been shy about personal space, it might have taken longer. But it was about mid-week when Ollie was already back lounging in Monty's bed -- fully clothed, of course. He sat with his back against the wall, and is legs stretched out, feet dangling off the side. His laptop sat in his lap as he worked on his Master's applications, though he wouldn't admit that to anyone who asked. He'd just say a very vague 'working' instead.

Everything was practically back to normal.

"Are you doing anything later?" He asked, almost out of no where, braking the sound of him typing to look over in Monty's direction. "I was thinking of getting out of here to find somewhere to eat. Like, I don't know, a town over or something." The vibes on Campus were terrible. They'd even started to seep into the town around them, and he was already growing tired of it. Maybe they could find somewhere fun a short drive away or something. He'd never really checked out the nearby towns… "Or I might borrow the car if you're busy with someone else." If there was anything Ollie was good at it was remaining light and casual. Like he wasn't specifically asking 'are you busy with someone else?' Of course he wasn't. He just needed to know if he could take the car… Yep, everything was definitely back to normal...

[sassa-fiske]

who: @montyrichler where: friday the 13th party when: early-ish? but not too early

Sassa frowned slightly when her eyes met Monty's as he approached her in the Pike kitchen, mid attempt of acquiring a drink, a hint of a furrow appearing in her brow that was quickly smoothed away into a teasing smirk. "You know our first match is next Sunday, right?" she said in a lilting voice, leaning forward to rest her elbows against the counter between them - strategically enhancing her cleavage in a way that looked utterly accidental as she did so was just a perk. All though her first reaction may not have been one of joy, the more she thought about it, the happier she was to see Monty - his...extracurriculars could come in handy for such a night, in multiple senses. "I'd've thought you'd be wanting to make sure you have everything in order instead of at a frat party," she said, teasing (sorta) him, even as her mind started running through possible plans to get him (and his phone) somewhere secluded.

[strawbubbysugar]

So(u)l Chapter 29

Gonna be honest lads never thought I’d get this far

[necrosemancy]

TIMING: Current LOCATION: Bigfeet’s Adventureland PARTIES: Monty @howdy-cowpoke & Rosemary @necrosemancy(+ Hector) SUMMARY: Hector and Monty run into Rosemary at the park after she’s been ditched on a date, and they all try to make the most of their time there. Monty isn’t doing so great, though. CONTENT WARNINGS: Emotional abuse/manipulation, PTSD

Nearly every moment that Kaden wasn’t home was spent trying to satisfy Hector’s need to explore and experience things, and Monty found himself being dragged out of the house each day on some new quest to have fun or get into trouble, which were not always mutually exclusive. For someone who valued privacy and quiet as much as he did, it was a bit taxing on the younger of them, especially when the subject of an amusement park was brought up. 

“You can’t be serious,” Monty complained, shaking his head and turning away from Hector’s phone. The man huffed out a breath, straightening up and giving Monty an exasperated look. 

“Of course I’m serious! I’ve never been to a theme park!” 

“Isn’t that stuff for… you know…” 

“What? Kids? Monty, you need to learn to live a little, my friend. It’s for anyone who knows how to have fun.” The cowboy sighed, recalling his time with Kaden and Mack at the winter festival. Technically, most of those things had been ‘for kids’, but they’d had fun nonetheless. As long as there wouldn’t be singing… 

“Ugh, fine. Fine. But I am not going on any zip lines,” he argued, shaking a finger at Hector. The older zombie beamed.

“That’s what you think!” 

Several hours later the pair were in the park, just stepping off of the alpine coaster. Monty stumbled a bit, rattled by the sheer speed of that thing and the sharp turns he’d been sure were going to fling him straight into tree trunks, clinging to Hector’s arm for support. He was cursing under his breath, which was of course making Hector laugh something fierce. “You’re still such a big baby,” he teased the other in their shared language, leading him away from the coaster and toward where the game stalls were set up. “What if I win you a massive stuffed Caprifang, ah? Will that make you feel better?” Monty hissed out a sound of disbelief, untangling himself from his friend and leaning against one of the stools set up in front of this particular game. 

“I can outshoot you any day, Hector. You know that.” Hector grinned, nudging him with his elbow. 

“Prove it then!” He looked at the person running the stall, giving them a nod and pulling out some cash. There were a few other people to his left, and he caught the gaze of a pretty blonde woman, who was immediately graced with a charming smile. “Ahh, miss, you want to take on my friend and I here? He is bragging too much about being a crack shot. I think we ought to take him down a peg, no?” Monty huffed again, waving a dismissive hand in their direction. 

“Don’t drag her into this,” he griped, picking up the cheap plastic rifle and waving it threateningly at Hector.

—

She couldn’t believe it. She just couldn’t believe it. 

Rosemary had been stood up. At an amusement park, of all places. 

No, to say that she had been stood up made it seem like the stranger she’d matched with on a dating app hadn’t even given her a chance. Somehow, that wouldn’t have bruised her ego nearly as much. Instead, Trevor had played exactly one carnival game with her, got pissed off that she beat him at smack-a-squonk (which she could only assume was Wicked’s Rest’s version of whack-a-mole), and had left her there. At an amusement park.

Amusing, wasn’t it?

Rosemary huffed, as she pressed on his contact and sent him a dozen middle finger emojis before deleting the app on her phone. She hung her head in defeat as a tight sensation needled at her chest. No, no, no. The witch hastily looked up at the sky, willing whatever tears the blow to her pride had conjured to evaporate into the autumn air. Really? Trevor? She was going to be upset over a man named Trevor? No. Scratch that. She was not going to be upset over a man, period. 

She decided she would have fun to spite Trevor. What she needed was some overly sweet carnival treat and another game. Maybe not smack-a-squonk though- she felt a kindred spirit in those sad little creatures. 

Ten minutes later, Rosemary had a funnel cake, and her sights on a game. She was fishing cash out of her wallet when someone a few spots down smiled at her. She glanced at his friend who looked like he might be praying for divine intervention to save him from a day at the park. The witch handed the cash over to the person running the stall and flashed a grin back at the both of them. “I could use some good competition.” She moved over to the set up beside theirs. “I’ll warn you though, your friend may be a crack shot, but I’ve scared off my competition for the day by beating them at another one of these games. So I might take both of you down a peg.” She managed a laugh in spite of herself. “I’m Rosemary. What’re your names?”

—

“Oh, is that so?” Hector chuckled. “Well, Romero, I’m Hector, and this little bundle of sunshine is my friend Montaña.” 

“Monty,” the younger of them quickly interjected, pushing the muzzle of the water gun against his friend’s shoulder and giving him a shove. “And you could not hit a can of beans from twenty paces, if I remember right. I do not think Rosemary will have to try very hard to beat you.” He broke into a smile, looking past Hector at the poor woman that was being subjected to their asinine behavior. “Please, don’t mind him. He thinks he is funny.” Hector snorted in protest, picking up his own carnival-caliber gun and assuming the stance. Monty rolled his eyes and raised the brightly-coloured rifle to his shoulder, looking down what should have been a sight, but was just a beaten up nub of plastic. Helpful. The carnie running the stand waited for a couple other folks to join the lineup, took their money, then announced to all that the game was about to begin. 

“Hit the most targets to win!” they announced, gesturing at the backdrop of little bullseye targets that were moving left, right, up, down, and even in circles at all different heights and distances. Mm. Seemed easy enough. A loud bell broke the hush that’d fallen over the small gathering of strangers, and the place was very quickly drenched in a chaotic spray of water guns. 

Monty aimed, fired, and watched with a pleased huff as the small target flopped backwards. A ticker in front of where he stood clicked up to one, and he didn’t have time to wonder how it was keeping track as he moved to the next target, then the next, and the next. 

Hector wasn’t doing quite as well as his counterpart, but he still heard the satisfying click of his ticker counting up good shots… as well as Rosemary’s. It kind of sounded like she was beating him. Rats.

—

The witch was getting a blessed reprieve from her delightfully shitty day with her new company. A more genuine laugh bubbled up as she listened to the two bicker over names and who was the better shot. Having fun almost made her forget about Trevor. Almost. 

“Nice to meet you both,” Rosemary smiled. “I’ve never been much of a shot, but I’ll try to give you a run for your money.” 

She wouldn’t have to try too hard, as it turned out. While she may not have been a spectacular shot, what she lacked in accuracy she made up for with enthusiasm. Carnival games were never well made- and games like this with little toy water guns always seemed to work slightly askew. The aim was hardly as true as it could have been. Not that she noticed. This particular game served as a wonderful outlet to get out her frustrations of being abandoned not even an hour in to her date. All Rosemary had to do was imagine the man’s smarmy little face on the targets, and she watched as her points ticked up, up, up. 

She glanced over at the other two as the time on the game clock kept ticking down. She couldn’t tell if they were beating her or not, but she was pleased to find she didn’t care. She was starting to enjoy herself again. Not long after, the bell sounded to announce the game was over. She glanced down the row to see how they’d fared. “Who won?”

—

Hector should’ve had better aim, all things considered. But he’d been out of practice for a while, he would argue. Murder had become a thing that was much harder to get away with as the century had marched ever onward, so killing a guy for picking a fight with him in a saloon was something he’d not done in decades. He still had weapons, of course, they just never saw much action. Monty, however, had made a point to keep up with his skills. And living and working on farms… there were all sorts of predators to protect the livestock from. Particularly on his own farm, here in Wicked’s Rest, where giant vampire creatures would swoop out of the sky and carry off whole heifers. He’d always been a better shot than Hector, and he’d retained that skill through constant use and practice. And today, in this ridiculous theme park at this ridiculous stall with his ridiculous friend and a few strangers, he saw the fruits of those labors. The person running the stall was checking their tickers one by one after the game ended and the water shut off, moving down the row until they’d checked all of them. Then, they walked back up the row and stopped in front of Monty, flashing a grin at him. Somewhat unexpectedly, they reached for his wrist and grabbed it tightly, sending a shock of fear through him. But his arm was only lifted into the air as they loudly pronounced him the winner, by a margin of thirteen. 

Letting out the breath he’d sucked in so sharply, the zombie let his gaze slide over to Hector and Rosemary. He gave a small shrug, lowering his arm again. “Told you,” was all Monty said, albeit with a very self-satisfied smile. Hector rolled his eyes, holstering the water rifle and stepping back from the stall.

“See, now he has got an ego about it,” he complained to Rosemary, shaking his head. “That is no good! Listen, what kind of these games are you good at, señorita? We need a rematch. If I cannot show him a thing or two, then you must!” Monty was laughing now, distractedly looking at the prizes he was supposed to pick from. He didn’t really want any of them for himself, but there was one that he saw that reminded him of someone else, so he pointed at it. The gamemaster nodded and plucked it down from the wall, passing him the cartoonishly pink and sprinkled donut. Hector raised a brow at the choice (though Monty suspected he might have had something to say about anything that he chose), and Monty gave him a knowing look. “I know a young woman who likes sweets very much. I think she’ll like this,” he explained, tucking it under his arm and focusing his attention on Rosemary. “Miss, you do not have to play along with his games if you don’t want to,” he apologized with a smile. “But if you are fine with it, I would love to see you beat him at something else.”

—

There was a delicious moment of anticipation where everyone waited to see who the winner of the game was. The carnival worker made a great show of it, keeping them all in suspense, until he stopped before the man named Monty and raised his hand in victory. Rosemary clapped, happy to see if it hadn’t been her who had won, at least it was one of the two new friends beside her. 

It didn’t surprise her that Hector continued to give his friend a good natured ribbing. It was clear the heckling didn’t bother Monty too much. Rosemary watched, amused as the man took hold of the giant squishy donut. “If you two don’t mind some extra company, I’d be more than happy to tag along for a few games.” Spending time with two friendly strangers seemed a better option to her than stewing on her failed date. 

“Well, I was good at what was essentially whack-a-mole before. Good enough that my competition got their ego in a twist about it. Or maybe he was just really bad at it… who’s to say really!” Rosemary shrugged. “I’m pretty decent at ring toss games, too.”

—

There was a claw hammer in his hand, gripped so tightly it made his muscles ache. There was dirt and hay beneath him, knees pressed into the hard-packed earth trodden by hundreds of feet and hooves and paws. Between those knees, the warm body of a living creature that was thrashing and yelping and trying to get away. Monty’s arm lifted the hammer high, a scream building in his throat as he brought it back down. The man between his legs screamed in unison, bright blue eyes watching the hammer as it came down to strike him in the temple. 

There was blood, splattered across the hammer’s head, his hand, and his thigh. Its warmth didn’t compare to the heat of the flames that licked at his heels, already consuming the silent, twitching intruder’s legs. 

“Maybe not whack-a-mole,” Monty suggested thoughtfully. “Ring toss, though, I bet I could beat the both of you at that, too.” This was a lie. Monty was terrible when it came to throwing horseshoes, another activity burned into his mind from that night as he’d run past it — past Daisy and Felix and Wynne who had been playing it when all hell broke loose. But at least there wouldn’t be whacking involved. 

—

She couldn’t deny that she was grateful her new companions had decided against smack-a-squonk. The foam approximations of everyone’s favorite cryptid just looked so pathetically sad, and bopping them over the head felt as though it added insult to injury for the poor little creatures. Even if they were fake. 

Rosemary raised an eyebrow and grinned at Monty. “You’re pretty confident, aren’t you.” She glanced to Hector and held up a hand as though to tell him a secret that the other would hear anyway. “Tell me, is he always this confident he’ll win? Is he one of those people that’s just freakishly good at everything?” 

She spied a ring toss game a little ways down the row of flashing lights that drew in new contestants to play their games. “Aha- there. Ring toss. We’ll see if you’re as good as you claim. “ the witch teased as she headed in the direction of the booth. 

—

Monty shrugged in a noncommittal sort of way, trying not to let his thoughts wander further into the dark, fiery hole they were creeping over the threshold of. He could still hear Daisy’s laugh, could still see her standing there with her hands on her head as she watched her horseshoe completely miss the mark, thudding into the grass after it sailed over the stake in the ground and clattering into Monty’s that sat a few feet from the target. That hadn’t been on the night of the party, but some other warm, sunny summer afternoon when he and the farm hands had arranged a lunchtime feast for all. She’d turned to look at him, exasperated but amused, and wearing the smile he’d give anything to see again. 

“You know, he’s usually not,” Hector answered Rosemary, giving his friend a genuinely curious stare. “And the only things he’s freakishly good at, as you say, involve farm work. As far as I know.” Monty fought back the sense of dread that was climbing up his spine as he saw Daisy’s smile turn into a look of horror. His mind was combining the two memories, intermixing them in a way he really wished it wouldn’t. She was staring past him, and then screaming—

“Perhaps I am more complex than you remember,” he answered evenly, following after Rosemary as she spotted the game. Hector looked a bit surprised but was quick to bring up the rear, rubbing his hands together conspiratorially as they all came to a stop in front of the ring toss. Monty had very little faith in his ability to land a single one, but that was far from the most pressing thing on his mind right now. They all paid the fee for the differently colored rings, and bracing the donut plush between his knees, the cowboy gathered his rings up and stood ready. 

He tried not to pay attention to the way he was certain he could smell smoke.

—

She caught a glimpse of Monty in the corner of her eye as she started away that caused her bright smile to dim. The man looked lost in a memory as his body mechanically walked forward in the direction Rosemary was leading the pair. She turned her gaze ahead as she tried to decipher just what she might have done to inspire such an unfortunately melancholic looking mood. Was it Smack-A-Squonk? She worried her lip between her teeth as she walked, forcing herself to dismiss the thought. It was fine. She hadn’t upset anyone. Nothing was wrong. She was overreacting. 

“See,” she chirped cheerfully as Monty responded in a tone too even for Rosemary’s liking. She definitely upset him with Smack-A-Squonk. Godsdammit. “He contains multitudes.” The witch wiggled her fingers for emphasis. She handed the carnival worker a handful of slightly wrinkled bills before scooping up her stack of rings. “I heard there’s a strategy to this. Middle row is usually best, and if you kind of throw like it’s a skipping stone…” she snapped her wrist as she let the plastic ring fly and grinned at the sound of the plink as the ring found its home around the neck of a bottle. “Ta da!”

—

Hector looked impressed at Rosemary’s successful throw, wearing another grin as he forgot all about his troubled friend that stood on his opposite side. Taking her advice on the toss technique, the man tried to mimic what she’d done, but his ring just clinked loudly between bottles before falling to the floor. “Puta madre,” he cursed with a laugh. “You make it look so easy, señorita. Doesn’t she, Montaña?” Monty was staring at the bottles in a way that could be misconstrued as focused or determined, but in reality was just dissociative. Memories from the night of the fire were rushing back and overwhelming him, so much so that he could almost remember what it felt like to have his heart race. He felt eyes on him and absently threw a ring, watching with disinterest as it bounced off a bottle and dropped out of sight. 

The horses! Wynne had screamed as Monty and Kaden had bolted past the trio. He’d lost Daisy then — he never saw her after that moment of brief, shared terror. She’d stayed to get Felix out of danger while Wynne raced to help them with the horses, and that had been that. He hadn’t even been able to find any remains once the fire had burned itself out. She was there one moment, gone the next. The closest thing he’d had to family since he’d arrived in Wicked’s Rest, ripped away from him. His memories of her only haunted him, providing no comfort or happiness. Just guilt. 

“Oye,” Hector said for the second time, nudging Monty in the arm. He and Rosemary had already gone through all of their rings (and Hector had only managed to get one of them around the neck of a bottle), and Monty hadn’t really moved or spoken after throwing his first. “¿Estás bien?” The younger zombie blinked, shaking his head and glancing down at the rings gripped tightly in his left hand. 

“... no,” he answered, shoving them unceremoniously into Hector’s hands instead. Plucking the plush he’d won earlier from between his knees, he held it to his chest as he looked past Hector to find Rosemary. “I’m sorry,” he apologized to her, a frightened expression on his face. “I’ve got to go.” 

“Go? Go where?” Hector interrupted, sounding annoyed. Monty didn’t answer, just giving him an exasperated look and turning to hurry away, not caring if Hector followed or not. He was a grown ass man, he could find his own way back to the cabin. Maybe his new friend Rosemary could give him a lift, he thought bitterly. Which wasn’t fair, this reaction wasn’t her fault… he knew that, but still. Keeping his head down, the cowboy disappeared into the crowd. 

Hector, abandoned and frustrated by it, gave Rosemary a shrug. “Well… I guess that means you win.”

—

There was a plink and a dull thump as the little plastic ring Monty threw glanced off the bottle and landed in the patchy grass below. The witch continued to throw, and had thrown her third ring when she paused, glancing back to the quieter of the two men. 

He was still staring at the bottles, but Rosemary couldn’t tell if he was looking at the bottles, or through them. Distracted, the woman half heartedly tossed her last two rings, not caring when they didn’t land. Her attention was caught by the distant, haunted expression on the man’s face. “Your friend,” she asked Hector softly, concern tinging her voice. “Is he okay?”

After a few minutes Hector had managed to pull Monty back into the present with them. The poor thing looked terrified. Rosemary’s face creased with concern. She barely knew the man, but she knew that kind of fear. A rush of words and passed off game pieces, and Monty vanished into the crowd. The witch lurched a step after him on the instinct to try and fix whatever was wrong, but she stopped. It wasn’t her place. Monty likely wouldn’t want a stranger in that moment. 

“You should go check on him.” She said quickly, turning back to Hector. “Make sure he’s ok. I didn’t mean to crash your afternoon, and I’m really sorry if tagging along upset him.” She blindly snatched her prize from the carnival worker. The small plushy key chain of a cat grinned up at her, oblivious to the emotionally charged moment it was crashing. She hastily shoved it into her bag. “It was really nice meeting you, really.” Her gaze flickered past Hector, trying to track the clearly upset man through the crowd to no success. “Again, I’m like. Really sorry.”

—

“Ah, no, it is not your fault,” Hector sighed in response to Rosemary, shaking his head and glancing in the direction Monty had scurried off in. “He has… been through a lot, lately.” There was sympathy in his tone, but it was edged by something sharper, something venomous. “I thought coming here would take his mind off of things. It seems I was wrong.” Brandishing another disarming smile, Hector gave Rosemary a nod and held out his hand to shake. “It was nice meeting you, too. I hope you can still make the most of your evening, date or no,” he said with a chuckle. “I will go tend to my friend. Take care, Rosemary.”

Leaving the woman alone in the park, Hector wandered his way back to the parking lot, not in any particular kind of hurry. He searched lazily for the truck they had arrived in, and was pleased to see it still sitting in its spot. Rounding the bed, he came to a stop on the driver’s side of the vehicle, rapping his knuckles on the window. Monty, who was sitting inside the cab and staring off into space gave a start, gripping the steering wheel tightly as he whipped his head around. Hector frowned, then opened the door. “Get out,” he commanded, moving out of the way. Monty hesitated, which earned him a decidedly annoyed sigh. “I said get out, Montaña. You are in no state to drive.” Slowly, Monty obeyed, hopping out of the truck quietly and keeping his head down. As he stepped in front of Hector, a hand came out to grab at his arm. He jumped again, almost yelping reflexively as he caught the other’s hardened gaze. 

“Do not embarrass me like that again,” Hector growled. Monty nodded, dropping his chin again as he was released and scurrying around to the other side of the truck. His hands shook as he reached for the handle to climb into the passenger’s seat, and he made sure to keep his attention focused out the window to his right rather than on the man now backing out of the parking space, lest he earn himself any more lecturing that evening. 

He just hoped that Kaden would be home by the time they got back.

[bittcrsuite]

open to: anyone ! plot: based on this ! muse: stella monti. 26-32. cosmetologist. dreams of opening her own salon one day.

"what are you doing here?" stella feigns surprise, failing to mention that she assisted with the guest list. she was tired of being iced out, so it was time to take matters into her own hands. "are you... did you bring a plus one?"

[helltechnicality]

@itsbitmxdinhere asked: 'don't look at me like that--you know who i am, you know what i've done.' ( From Monty bc redemption arc and all :3 )

" i also know that you were in a situation where you had no choice. " he has calmed since that night in the woods. knows that a familiar has little choice but to follow orders. " i cannot say...that i trust you. but i do not wish you harm, monty. i merely...want to understand where the truth ended and the lies began. "

[gossipsnake]

TIMING: Current LOCATION: Prickly Pear Acres PARTIES: Anita (@gossipsnake) Kaden (@chasseurdeloup) Monty (@howdy-cowpoke) and Ford (written by Nash) SUMMARY: Anita, Kaden, Monty, and farmhand Ford all sign up to take part in the three-legged race at the Prickly Pear Acre's party when a switcheroo throws everyone off their game. CONTENT WARNINGS: n/a

In her human form, speed was not something Anita was exceptional at - her shorter stature, while helpful in other areas, was certainly not an asset in this particular area. That did not stop her from deciding, almost immediately upon seeing the sign up sheet at the Prickly Pear Acres party, that she was going to compete in and win the three-legged race. She had arrived to Monty’s party alone which meant that she had the option to scope the party for the perfect race partner without having to feel obligated to sign up with whomever she had arrived with. She figured that would be the downfall of many race participants. 

Instead, Anita decided that she would find a way to make her height work for her by finding a partner of a near exact height so that their strides would be in sync. That resulted in much of her party chit-chat being height-based and most of her time checking out the woman at the party spent assessing their shoes for race practicality. Most, not all. Several of the first few people she approached thought she was being “too intense” about the race and needed to “relax” because “it’s just a party.” Their lack of commitment ruled them out as suitable race partners before their words could have, anyway. 

Eventually she had found someone of acceptably similar height with sensible shoes who was willing to race alongside her to victory, and Antia wrote their names down on the sheet - Anita and Dorothy - just in time before the event was getting ready to begin. She scanned the list for their competition which wasn’t particularly helpful as she only knew a handful of the names. That did not change her confidence in victory. “Is there a prize for the victors?” she asked, to nobody in particular, as she approached the area where the race was set up. 

—

As much as Kaden had hoped he could get away with not participating in too many of the more ridiculous games at the party, he knew there was no way he could avoid them entirely – not given who he was dating. Whatever, it would probably be fun, whatever it was he got roped into, even if he didn’t want to admit it. “Three-legged race, huh?” he said to his partner as they approached the sign up sheet. Putain. They were going to look ridiculous, weren’t they? Kaden wanted to be annoyed, but he couldn’t keep the smile off his face as he jotted down their names.

He recognized a lot of them but he wasn’t worried about anyone on that list. Sure, he was going to look stupid, but he was also sure they were going to win. They may be almost a foot difference in height between them both but Kaden had a plan. “Remember to stand on my foot. And if you can get your knee closer to mine, that should help.” He’d been strategizing a lot more than he wanted to admit for something so trivial but he knew damn well that Monty was as competitive as he was, if not more. 

Kaden had to admit, he was surprised to see Anita ready and eager to race. “Victors?” he repeated. “Pretty big title for someone winning a hobbling race.” Now that he considered it, he didn’t know a whole lot about her one way or the other. For all he knew she did this regularly and was a three-legged race champion. Wouldn’t be the weirdest thing in this town. “What makes you think you’re going to win, anyway?”

—

Monty was not especially familiar with American party games, or… party games in general, if he was honest with himself. What was the last party he’d been to? Anita had invited him to her birthday, but he’d ended up backing out at the last minute, too anxious to attend. It was partly the fault of his paranoia due to everything going on with the farm lately, but really mostly just social anxiety. He was awkward and quiet, at least until you put a fútbol in front of him. And that hadn’t been added to the roster of activities for tonight, for a number of reasons… one of which was maybe his excessively competitive nature. 

The joke was on everyone that had pitched in these ideas, though, because Monty was discovering that he could be competitive about damn near anything. 

Nodding along with Kaden’s suggestions, he could see them winning. Could feel it, and was grinning broadly as the other contestants lined up near the starting point. Anita was there (he was so glad to see her again, and glad she’d forgiven him for being too chicken to go to her extravagant party), her partner, and a few others. Seeing Ford hovering around with his partner as well, Monty gave him an energetic wave. Ford was… familiar with Monty’s “exuberance” when it came to their weekly games of fútbol. 

“Yeah, Anita! Kaden and I have a plan… we’re definitely going home with… whatever the prize is. Is there a prize?” He had no idea — Daisy had been in charge of that. As if summoning her with a thought, the zombie smiled at his friend as she strolled up to the group, clapping her hands together to get their attention. 

“Alrighty, y’all! I see everyone has signed up with their racin’ partners… bettin’ you’ve all been busy strategizin’... which is why we’ve decided to throw a little wrench in your game. Folks, we are switchin’ y’all up!” Monty’s eyes went wide as Daisy started shuffling everyone around, grabbing him by the shoulder and dragging him over to where Ford was, and doing the same to Kaden, sticking him with Anita. “No! Wait! Our plan!” he complained, barely holding onto the rope that Daisy shoved into his arms with a smirk. 

—

When it came to pretty people, Ford was a sucker. All of his life, and undead one at that, he’d been willing to do the stupidest things just to put a smile on the face of someone he was trying to impress and it seemed party games were not an exception to that rule. As soon as the girl’s arm was around his waist, twisting him towards the sign ups for the three legged race, he was in. Generally, he didn’t care if they won or not, just as long as he got to be stuck to the woman’s side for the whole ordeal. Besides, if they lost he could at least console her afterwards.

Lining up, he flashed a bright smile over towards Monty and his boyfriend, noting that with those two entering the fun that he was definitely going to have a good time after the games. He didn’t have the fire in him to match his boss’ energy for competition, he was just there for a good time. Add Kaden into it and no one else stood a chance. Not even the attractive woman throwing smack their way. 

His grin was wiped off his face with Daisy’s words, the farmhand ready to have some words with her when she took the hand of his partner and led her away to someone else. He was still staring after the girl when Daisy brought Monty to his side and declared them partners for this one. It could have been worse he supposed but there was definitely no consoling the man if they didn’t win. 

Seeing the distress of his boss, Ford allowed his bright smile to slip back onto his lips and, after one more look at the girl he was trying to impress, he turned to Monty and shrugged. “So, tell me the plan, bud. We got this. I just hope Kaden doesn’t try to railroad us since he knows the tricks you’ve got up your sleeve.” Taking the rope from Monty’s hand, he bent to start tying them together as Daisy seemed to be pushing for things to start now so no more protesting could reach her ears. Man, she had some complaints coming her way. “What tricks are we talking about again?”

—

“Yes, the victors. That is how to accurately describe people who win at competitive events.” Anita huffed. She had never been able to put her finger on it but there was something about Kaden that ever so slightly irked Anita. But she liked Monty a great deal, so considering that he must have seen something redeemable in his partner, she opted to extend the benefit of the doubt. She smiled at Monty, finding his optimism endearing even if it was misplaced. “What makes me so confident?” she gestured towards her partner, then showed off their compatible height by standing back-to-back with her. “We will move as one down this racetrack. That is what makes me confident.” 

Anita had been sizing up the other competition -  literally, trying to assess if there was a more perfect height match pairing - when she heard the farmhand organizing the event say that they would be getting reassigned partners. “No, no, no! You can’t do that. There is nothing in the rules that said we could not strategize! There is no rule against informed planning!” She tried to reach out and grab her perfectly sized original partner's hand as Daisy dragged her away, but it was pointless. Looking over, and up, Anita saw that her new pair of shared legs belonged to Kaden. “Mierda. You are far too tall.” 

Not letting this shake her confidence, Anita began working on tying their legs together with the provided rope. Her eyes drifted over to Monty and his new partner. It was almost laughable how much better of a height match they were than she and Kaden. “You better not throw this race just so your vaquero can win.” 

—

“Putain de merde,” Kaden grumbled at the news. There went all the strategizing. Even worse, he had to look stupid with Anita instead of Monty. On top of that, he had to beat his hyper competitive partner now. Still, Kaden scoffed at the woman as she suggested that he’d throw the race. “Please. I couldn’t let his ego get that big intentionally.” He took a deep breath and tried to assess the new situation. He didn’t know Anita very well but there was no denying the competitive drive she displayed. That was going to have to be enough. 

“Okay so the best thing to do is for you to stand on my foot and then–” He barely got a full sentence out before Daisy was shouting at them to line up, walking by to double check the rope on each pair. Clearly Daisy didn’t trust them not to overthink that, too. Which, alright, that was probably fair. Before they could strategize much further, the countdown was starting. 

“Hold on and keep your knee here. No, here.” He wasn’t sure why he bothered, Daisy had shouted “GO!” well before they could get their shit together. All they could do was hobble as fast as they could. Kaden had his arm around Anita, gripping her waist possibly a little tighter than was comfortable. It was hard to temper his hunter strength completely while in the throws of competition. He wished he could say they were graceful and gliding across the field, but that was far from the reality of the situation. If anything, they were consistently on the edge of tripping over and falling flat on their faces. It didn’t matter because all that mattered was they were a hair ahead of Monty and Ford. Which meant they had to keep going, however stupid and ungainly they were in the moment. 

“Come on, come on, come o–” Kaden felt his toe hit onto a root and he did everything in his power to keep his balance, holding onto Anita for dear life. It was up to her to keep them upright and secure the win. 

—

“Oh, he’s going to try and railroad us,” Monty complained with a laugh, letting Ford tie their legs together and casting a good-natured glare in his boyfriend’s direction. “But that’s okay, we aren’t gonna take it lying down!” Before he could explain the tricks Kaden had come up with, Daisy was shouting at them to begin. Monty grabbed onto Ford’s arm and started to drag their restrained legs forward—they weren’t any closer in height than he and Kaden, and there was a distinct lack of coordination between them. Monty tried to get his foot on top of Ford’s but couldn’t position it without nearly toppling over now that they were all  already on the move. 

“¡Oye! Vamanos!” he hollered, seeing Kaden and Anita start to pass them up. He was half shouting and half laughing as he tried again to get his foot where it needed to be so that the taller of them could guide their steps. “I’ve got to—just—ah!” It was no use, and Monty was getting more and more stressed the farther behind they fell. He noticed Kaden nearly tripping on something and bent over, quickly pulling off the boot of his free foot in mid-step and hucking it at Kaden’s legs, hoping to trip him up even more.

—

“Oh, man, they don’t look happy.” To be fair, Ford hadn’t been very happy either but he at least liked his partner. Those two looked at each other like they would rather be anywhere else. It was more amusing than anything. He’d just secured the rope, the farmhand trying to listen to Monty as he listed off tips, but Daisy was in a menacing mood it seemed as she shouted for them all to go. Ford almost stumbled as Monty took off. He quickly found his footing but it didn’t seem he was quick enough as Kaden and his partner started to pass.

It was Monty’s shouts that had Ford grinning, amused at how wound up all of these people could get over a silly little game. “I’m going, I’m going!” He laughed out the words, trying his best to pick up the pace but things weren’t looking so good for the two of them as Monty tried to get a foot onto his own. “Come on, cowboy, you got this! I can’t slow down or I might get fired by the end of this.” It was all in good fun, of course…at least to him, it was. 

It was impressive the way Monty was able to pull that shoe off and his laugh rang out to mix in with all the cheers of people watching the game as it was tossed towards their main competition. The dirty tricks gave Ford the idea to wrap an arm around Monty’s waist and carry him the rest of the way, running like hell, but he had a feeling that Daisy wouldn’t allow them to enjoy that win. With the stumble though, it looked like the two of them might pass and get their lead back. “Way to kick em’ while they’re down, boss. You want me to grab Kaden’s collar and pull him back too?”

_ 

Not having to be told twice to stand on Kaden’s foot, Anita got herself into position even as the organizer hurried everyone along to the starting point of the race. He wanted her to keep her knee in a position that was not realistic, though. “You are too tall!” She yelled very quickly into the race starting. His frustrating physical qualities did not stop her, however, from working as valiantly as she possibly could to keep pace and rhythm with him. But every move they made felt so clunky. She was overextending herself trying to match his stride and for a moment she felt like he was about to lift her right off the ground and carry her to the finish line like an american football. Which, of course, would be cheating. Three feet on the ground at all times. There were rules. This was a civilized game. 

It was working, mostly, until Kaden opened his mouth. As if Anita needed a verbal reminder to keep going. Monty and his partner, Ford, had just fallen far enough behind to no longer be in her peripheral vision when she began to see something far more troubling. Kaden lost his balance; killing whatever momentum the pair had been gaining. 

As he clung onto her waist tighter, Anita instinctively let scales replace the fleshy skin of her abdomen to provide a more sturdy base for him to cling to. But it didn’t matter because their host wasn’t interested in a fair race. The boot did more than just hit its intended target and after making contact with the back of Kaden’s legs, the weight of the boot’s heel came crashing down onto Anita’s ankle. The pain stung. Under better circumstances she may have been able to power through. Desperately, she tried to keep the two of them upright, grabbing onto Kaden’s arm to pull him forward and upright, but much like a Jenga tower that couldn’t stand to lose any more structural integrity their fate was practically sealed. 

—

“No, you’re too sh– Putain!” Kaden shouted as something hit his leg. The fuck was that? He craned around to see Monty with one goddamn shoe on and a boot sitting on the ground behind Anita and Kaden’s conjoined leg. “You little shit!” he called out as he scrambled to get himself and Anita upright. 

He wasn’t sure if he was imagining the chill down his spine or if that was just some weird result of being hit by his boyfriend’s boot in the back of the leg. There was no time to examine that. The only thing he had time to do was grab onto Anita and stumble forward for dear life. Obviously that’s what the three legged race was: a life or death situation. 

They had fallen behind, of course, but only by a little. Both of them had taken a tumble so they were practically neck and neck now. There were other people in the race, sure, but the only person he needed to beat was Monty. He only had eyes for him. “Two can play that game,” he grumbled to himself. “Hold on,” he told Anita as he threw his shoulder into Ford, trying to knock them off balance. Sure, it hadn’t helped his balance any but that wasn’t the point. 

—

Before Monty could tell Ford that he absolutely should grab Kaden’s collar, the aforementioned Frenchman was throwing his weight into Ford, knocking all four of them to the ground. Monty erupted with laughter, slapping the ground in defeat as he pushed Ford’s weight off of him, knowing there was no way they were even finishing this thing, now. The other racers were already crossing the finish line, leaving them in the proverbial dust. 

“Ah! You got too greedy!” he chastised Kaden, as if he hadn’t done the same exact thing. Daisy came walking their way, hands on her hips and her head shaking from side to side as she tried to look disappointed through her laughter. “Anita, I am sorry for hitting you with my boot.”

“Well!” Daisy exclaimed as she stood over them, “Ain’t this just a sight! Y’all cost poor Ford his win to impress his date!” She gave the other farm hand a wink, reaching out a hand to help him (and Monty) up. “That’s okay, though… she ended up winnin’ without you, so I think it’s your turn to be impressed, buddy.”

—

The impact of Kaden rushing into him threw Ford completely off. Normally he had better balance than this but with his leg tied to another and the surprise factor the zombie felt himself tumbling over his own partner, an ‘oof’ escaping him with the feel of the other two’s weight falling on top of him. Soon, after the dizzying stars had cleared his vision, his laughter joined Monty’s, glad that his boss had enough humor to see the fun in all of this. That’s what the games were about anyway.

He sat up after being pushed off of his boss, the palms of his hands hitting the ground between his legs with a sharp ‘slap’ as Daisy walked over to the four of them. Nodding at her words, Ford looked over to where his friend was jumping up and down with her partner and his grin grew wider. “Hey, even better. This means I get to give her the victory kiss.” His gaze went back to his coworker as he winked. “It’s a win-win, really.” And then he looked around at everyone else on the ground with him, grimacing. “Sorry, guys…you all just lose, I guess. But this was a lot of fun.”

_ 

Before she could even protest the clearly ill-conceived idea, Kaden was hurdling his body into Ford and Monty. His body, which was tied to hers. As they tumbled to the ground, a jumbled mess of limbs, Anita watched as her original chosen partner crossed over the finish line. She didn’t waste a moment untying herself from Kaden, fuming at the loss that she would surely attribute solely to him. “Your boot wouldn’t have been able to hit me if we had been moving faster.” 

The sting of the loss would wear off by the time she was able to get a margarita in her hand, but until that moment, Anita had little desire to sit around and collect grass stains while laughing about how quickly her winning strategy was torn away from her. In fairness, it was not really Monty, or Ford, or even Kaden who was to blame. Glaring up at the woman standing over them, the woman who cost her victory, she huffed “If anyone cost him a chance to impress his date it was you. Separating everyone.” 

Anita brushed off her dress as she stood up. “I cannot think of a good lie to explain why I am leaving, so I am just going to leave. Not the party,” she said, looking towards Monty, “there is much more to do here at the party. But you are an awful racing partner.” That time, directing her gaze to Kaden. Without waiting for a response, she turned and left, dispersing into the crowd of guests as she hoped to find a way to redeem her party ego. 

—

Despite everything, Kaden was doubled over laughing at how silly the whole thing was. They looked like idiots, all of them, but not the way he anticipated they would. No, in fact they looked stupider. He wanted to roll his eyes at Anita storming off, too, but he couldn’t stop cackling. “You’re welcome,” he shouted as she walked away, wiping the dirt off his pants (at least some of it) and pushing himself off the ground. “Sure sounds like you’re the real winner, though,” he said to Ford, giving him a pat on the shoulder before he headed off to go give Dorothy that kiss. 

Kaden wrapped an arm around his partner, relieved that they were no longer temporary rivals, and scrunched up his face to make it look like he was deep in thought. “You know, in that case, if she gets a victory kiss, I’m pretty sure that means I get a loser’s kiss.” He grinned ear to ear before leaning in to steal a kiss from his partner. “Yeah, still pretty good.” It was nice, to finally have a moment where they could all just relax, have a good time. Things had been so tense lately after the last month or so. The change in pace was more than welcome. And there was still plenty of time left in the night. 

[cara-mrrsn]

who: @montyrichler when: a few days after the valentine's party where: cara's dorm

There were very few people Cara was willing to talk about Greer with. The list, in fact, extended to...well, no one. Not fully, at least. But Monty had always managed to be on the list of a broader sort, one of few that would at least be on her side with things. And after the...unfortunate breakdown he witnessed, Cara wasn't about to bring someone else into the loop of her and her fucked up emotions regarding her sister. No, Monty got to deal with all this now.

Waiting for him to arrive, Cara was sprawled into an armchair in her dorm room, legs dangling over one of the arms and head hanging over the other as she smoked, vaguely blowing the smoke towards the direction of the cracked window - not that she really cared much. Finally, she heard a knock on her door, Cara calling for Monty (she hoped) to enter, tipping her head backwards even further to set her eyes on him before she offered a crooked smirk in greeting. "Hi," she said before straightening up. "Thanks for coming," she said, sarcasm coating her words.

[maggotmouth]

CLOSED FOR: @fetidfruit LOCATION: book stew / streets.

nose pressed in a book he’s pretending to read ( no change there ), monty’s off-duty celebrity chic, slogan cap pulled down over his hair and his cunty little cartier sunglasses blocking any parties prithee from tracking his line of vision. hard to be inconspicuous when you’re six foot five, but god loves a trier, and although no one would ever accuse monty of being tenacious, he takes the art of being unserious impeccably seriously. right now, his attention’s hinged on patti ─ and more importantly, on getting patti’s attention by any means necessary ─ a game of hide-and-seek gone awry as he’s forced to watch what he assumes is them flirting with some drippy simpy yankee doodle from across the proverbial pond. oh, shit. hadn’t he bought him jagerbomb in the rabbithole the other night? bash? bosh? something like that. no time to consider it when he’s shoving his copy of lysistrata into his back pocket and sprinting out of the shadows, big as a bull in a china shop but with the spatial awareness of a big cat. now who’s lithe as a cheater? he’s a bundle of childish energy as he cuts through the bookshelves, sliding on the heels of his ( ironically worn ) deck shoes and ducking between the two of them. “oi. tig. you’re it, wanker,” he huffs, landing a slap against patti’s hip, out of her line-of-reach almost as quick as he’d entered it, a haphazard “—oh, hey biff!” thrown over his shoulder in afterthought. he knocks a stand of anthony hopkins over in his haste to get out of the bookshop, and narrowly avoids knocking his own orthodontically-straightened teeth out when his foot catches on a cobblestone. the shock of it throws him forward like missing the last step on the staircase, the wind momentarily knocked out of him, but not enough to stop him from shrieking out, “agh, fuck me! cunting fucking cobblestones,” before he’s heaving himself back to his feet, hop-scotching over the uneven pavements and towards the gleaming oasis of the pub.