#the way i could dive DEEP into the unicorns

[rhiannswork]

hii i was wondering if u could write something about a pool party that morgan throws, so ofc bau!reader and the rest of the team goes. spencer gets in the pool and everybody is speechless when they notice the scratches on his back. unbeknown to your involvement.

the water’s fine.

spencer ᕁ bau!reader

warnings: allusions to sex, suggestive if you squint with a monocle, smart reid (i did some research for that btw lolol), private relationships, hmm i think that’s it!

"hey, yln made it after all!" morgan exclaimed while relaxing by the pool, drink in hand. "sorry, guys. i had a bit of trouble finding a good bathing suit," you explained, not entirely truthful about the reason for your tardiness. in reality, you and spencer got sidetracked once you found the perfect suit, causing both of you to arrive late. yet somehow, spencer managed to beat you to morgan’s location.

as morgan gestured towards spencer, he reassured, "don’t worry, pretty boy just arrived." emily found it amusing, asking "who reads at a pool party?" while opening her soda can. "spencer reid does," jj responded as she sat beside the pool with her feet dangling in the water, earning a laugh from penelope who was sunbathing on a unicorn float.

"hey derek, do you have any more of those floats? i think i’m going to get in the pool." you placed your bag by the patio table and started to apply some sunblock. "sure thing, i’ll go inflate it." "thank you!" you shouted as he walked away from the group.

as you applied the rest of your sunblock, you couldn't help but notice the chatter of your colleagues. you walked over to spencer, who was deep into reading his book. "hey handsome," you whispered, making sure only he could hear you. spencer raised his head, squinting as he blocked the sun with his hand. "hi baby," he replied with the same volume. "are you planning to get in the pool, or will you stay here and read?" you giggled. "i’m going to finish this book," he said with a shrug. "suit yourself!" you walked off.

soon after, morgan returned holding a heart-shaped floatie which he handed to you before returning to his chair. you threw the floatie into the pool and gradually got in after it. descending the pool steps, you winced as the cold water rushed over your body. "why is it always freezing when you first get in the pool?" you complained as you reached for the heart-shaped floatie.

“the cold going into the pool is actually a result of conduction of heat. see, water is a much better conductor of heat rather than air. energy can flow from your body quicker than it would if you were surrounded by air at the same temperature. even if the water is much warmer than the air, you would still feel cool getting in.” spencer answered your rhetorical question.

"let’s not ask reid any science questions today," penelope giggled as she took a sip of her soda can. "my apologies," he chuckled, refocusing on the final chapter of his book. you shook your head and repositioned yourself in the float, finally finding a comfortable spot.

"spencer, come join us in the pool, the water is great!" jj exclaimed, eyeing the artificial waterfall nearby. "but I'm not finished with my book," spencer whined. "if he doesn't want to swim, that's okay," you shrugged as you started to float around in the pool.

he’s knows you, he’s caught on to what he calls the ‘yn trend’. when you say “that’s okay, it’s fine” he knows what you really mean. he huffed and placed his book down and walked over to the pool.

"i knew you would," you teased as you made your way to the edge of the pool. spencer removed his shirt and you couldn't help but keep your eyes on his body. "wow, spence! you’ve got the body and the brains," penelope commented, lifting her sunglasses for a better look.

"i’ll only be here for a few minutes," he muttered before diving into the pool. the sudden rush of coldness left him shivering, but he quickly adjusted and began to swim around. as he explored the refreshing waters, he found himself falling in love with the pool.

"spence what’s going on with your back?" jj tilted her head. spencer turned to face jj and emily, who had come over. emily commented, "it’s so red." spencer lifted up slightly and morgan asked, "pretty boy, are you allergic to chlorine? you should've told me earlier." "i’m not allergic! i don't know what you guys are talking about." he raised his voice, combing his wet hair back.

you hadn’t been paying much attention to the conversation that had erupted about spencer’s back. you looked over to see penelope inspecting him. “it looks like scratches… reid are you seeing someone?”

you could tell that spencer was caught off guard by penelope’s question. he stuttered a bit before responding, "uh, no, i’m not seeing anyone." penelope didn't seem convinced. “okay i know i’m not a profiler like you guys but this doesn’t just happen.” she traced the scratches with the pad of her finger.

you watched spencer becoming slightly uncomfortable with the questions of his dating status. “spencer, let’s go see if it really is scratches from fingernails.” you slipped off the plastic float and went to grab a towel to wrap around your body. spencer followed you into morgan’s home and slid the patio door to limit the cool air from coming in.

“jesus, did i really do that?” you spun spencer around to look at his back. “you did.” he chuckled throwing his head down. “‘m sorry…” you felt a little guilty, you didn’t mean for him to become a target of interrogation.

“don’t worry about it… i like it when i make you feel good.” he smiled with his hand on your face, his thumb slightly grazing your face. “yeah?” you slightly smiled. “mhm.” you reached for his lips until you heard the door open.

“and now we know who the culprit is.” morgan laughed with a empty glass of piña colada of his hand.

[kiame-sama]

Humans Are Extinct (Yandere!TWST x Fem!Reader) Monster AU pt 7

(Last of my predrawn beast men, so I should probably see if I can get the next chapter picture drawn despite my slow af laptop fighting me for every bit of existence)

Warnings; Yandere, platonic yandere, romantic yandere yandere behavior, yandere tempers, yandere attitudes, custody battle, poaching, territorial behavior, hoard guarding, implied violence, cooking, casual threats, untrusting yet kind-hearted reader, fem pronouned reader, Vampire Bat, Raiju, Cervitaur, Dragon, Crow, Unicorn, Cecilia, Harpy, Nemean Lion, Shinigami, Water Nymph, Gnoll, Crow,

~~~~~~~~

The loud crack of thunder drew you from your deep sleep. You had been pressing your face and entire body into the warmth beneath you and you could already feel the faint imprints along your cheek from whatever you were laying on. Thunder continued to roll outside and you slowly tried to gather your bearings.

Currently, you were in the nest Malleus had constructed in Ramshackle, though you were not the only occupant when you fell asleep or when you woke up. Lilia and Sebek were awake, their gazes turned outside and it was still rather dark out. You slowly sat up, trying to see what was so interesting outside when a green bolt of lighting struck the ground near Ramschackle. The sudden lighting forced a squeak of fright to escape you which drew the attention of Lilia and Sebek.

"I was worried he would wake you. It's alright, (Y/n), go back to sleep."

"What's going on, Lilia?"

"An unfortunate poacher decided to try their luck and Malleus was the one who took note of their presence. Don't worry, you're safe."

"Is Malleus okay?"

Lilia giggled at this, reaching out a hand to pat your head in an affectionate way. He was acting as if he didn't just say Malleus was fighting someone who was trying to hunt you down for their own nefarious gains.

"Of course he is. Malleus is a Dragon and there are very few who can actually stand up against a Dragon."

You were going to respond to Lilia when you noticed something strange. Silver didn't seem to be present and he certainly wasn't with Lilia or Sebek. Worry began to bubble up in your chest as to where the Reindeer man could possibly be before you felt the warm bed beneath you breathe.

Looking down, you were both horrifed with yourself and the situation as you realized you had been laying across Silver's Reindeer half like a bed. Your legs straddled the Reindeer's hips and you had likely been nuzzled down into the shoulder blades of the deer half. His human half was sitting up and completely still even as one of his blue and purple aurora colored eyes stared at you over his shoulder.

He was very warm and soft.

"Oh? Oh! Goodness, Silver, I'm so sorry-!"

As soon as it hit you that you must have crawled on top of the Reindeer during the night, you were quickly trying to get off of his back. Lilia actually started to laugh as you quickly dismounted from the Reindeer's back, falling back into a pile of pillows and disrupting poor Grim. The cat-like creature responded in a startled way to being jostled, his pronged tail lashing wildly as his fur stood on end in fear. You would have laughed at the startled response if you didn't feel so badly about frightening him to that point.

"Myeh?! Hey! What's the big deal? I'm sleeping-"

Another crack of thunder sent the furball diving forward to hide against your stomach, shaking in abject horror from the uncomfortably close sound. Of course Grim would be terrified of lightning, who knows how easily that 'den' of his would flood in a storm or how close he has been to being struck by a bolt. You couldn't help but pull the soft gray critter closer, petting his torn ears and back to try and soothe him even as his little wings shook.

"... You can lay on my back if that will help you sleep."

The almost tired drawl came from Silver as he slightly turned to look at you better, his Reindeer half partially rolling to one side when he yawned. Despite how inviting the offer was, you were still upset with yourself and worried you had offended the silver haired man somehow. Though you had been dubious about sharing the large nest with your- mostly uninvited- guests, you had been the one to invade his personal space and even climbed on his back while you slept.

"No! No, it's okay. I'm so sorry, Silver. I didn't mean to-"

"Why are you so upset?"

"... What?"

"I'm not angry, if that's why you're worried. Father sleeps on my back quite often during the day. I'm not angry you chose me as your sleeping companion."

"But I didn't mean to-"

"I know. You likely were drawn to how warm I typically am. It is quite drafty in this building, and it doesn't seem like there is any central heating."

You made a mental note to ask the professors about potentially acquiring a heated blanket to avoid cuddling your bed companions while you slept. It seemed like Silver was being truthful with you as Lilia crawled over to your side from where he had been gazing out the window. He was quick to flop down across the secondary shoulders of the large Reindeer and ruffled the silver fur with his Bat wings as he made himself comfortable.

"Silver's nice and soft, and his coat always keeps him warm even in winter. He really does make a good bed whenever I need a quick nap. Besides, he makes such cute little snoring sounds-"

"Father!"

"Keeheehee, just saying~ (Y/n), you should have seen him when he was just a little wobbly calf. I have some pictures back at Diasomnia I can show you. His legs were so long and he always tripped over them-"

"Father, please."

Lilia's joking helped calm your stress from the situation and also seemed to be helping Grim calm down. The blue-eyed cat-bat finally lifted his head from where he had been hiding his face against your stomach, reaching out a paw to touch the Reindeer's side. He clearly must have liked how warm and soft Silver was as he crawled out of your arms, curling up next to Lilia on Silver's back and snuggling down into the shaggy fur. You almost missed it, but as you looked up at Silver you could see a clear bright pink blush painting his fair cheeks before he looked away.

"It's over. My liege is on his way back."

Sebek said calmly, still looking outside with an almost unreadable expression. The lightning hadn't struck more than once and the thunder quickly quieted down after the first boom that woke you. It was almost like the storm was not actually a storm and you wondered just what it was that caused the lightning or why it was green.

He entered the room silently, only his bright green eyes were visible in the dark of the hallway as if he were wreathed in shadows themselves before he entered the room. Moonlight streamed across his form and he was once again the odd Dragon that had stumbled across you that first day.

"Did I wake you, child of man?"

"The thunder did."

"My apologies."

"Why are you apologizing for thunder? You didn't make it happen... Right?"

Malleus smiled as he returned to the nest, settling by your side and smiling at you patiently. It must not have been raining as he didn't seem to have a drop of water on him. He tilted his head and regarded you affectionately as if he were watching a beloved pet paw at him for attention.

"How little you know... Don't worry, there won't be anymore thunder tonight. I have the feeling that my message was recieved loud and clear."

"Did..." you found it oddly difficult to talk, "did you kill someone?"

Malleus didn't answer you, he just slowly blinked and reached out a clawed hand, patting your head gently. You found yourself wanting a bit more distance from the Dragon, wondering if you made a mistake to ask a question you truly did not want the answer to. As per usual, Lilia was quick to interrupt the tension with a loud yawn and stretch as if to imply you all should return to sleep.

"Here, (Y/n), I'll groom you to sleep again!"

"You really don't have to, Lilia."

"But I want to."

"One of these days I need to talk to everyone about personal space..."

~•§•~

The early morning dawn seemed to be a sleepy one as things slowly emerged from their warm beds and into the brisk morning. The low roll of thunder heard late in the night was certainly not lost on anyone as to the source of the sound. Even the few who rose for an early meeting seemed to be acutely aware of the Dragon's absence.

"Good morning, all. I have called this meeting at the behest of Riddle concerning the most recent events of orientation."

The Headmage stood at the head of the table, his feathers slightly ruffled from sleep as it was still quite early in the day. He usually rose with the sun and clearly had more energy than some of the Housewardens sitting at the table. Leona was barely awake as he lay with his head on the table, only the flicking tail showed the Nemean Lion was even conscious.

"As I am sure you all know by now, we have a Human living in the dorm on the main campus. Unlike most dorms, you do not need to enter a mirror to get to it and so it is easier for outsiders to access. However, there is no other place the Human can stay without putting her at risk of too curious students. Riddle, you told me you had a solution in mind for this?"

Riddle nodded, clearing his throat and straightening his bow.

"(Y/n) is Human and we all understand the gravity of the situation at hand. Humans died out from Twisted Wonderland centuries ago and now one has appeared in our school. It is our duty as Housewardens to assist in the safeguarding of this Human as her survival could mean the beginning of advancements made far beyond our lifetimes and even in our lives now. I'm sure we all understand the importance of keeping her safe. This being said, I am of the mind that it's time to switch out who is safeguarding (Y/n). This should be a shared duty of all the Housewardens, not just a privilege exclusive to Diasomnia."

Crowley nodded, leaning against his hand as he gave the proposition more thought. It seemed several of the other Housewardens were in agreement- at least, those who were physically present- at the idea of a shared responsibility.

"I, for one, think this is a wonderful idea, Riddle. Octavinelle is ready to open our doors to this poor unfortunate soul and keep her safe."

"You aren't usually one to offer help without a price, Azul. What are you looking to get out of this?"

"Nothing, of course! Just looking to help the less fortunate."

"I highly doubt that, Azul."

It was then Vil spoke up, the Harpy regarding the other Housewardens as if assessing them while he spoke. He could raise issue with letting the soft Human stay with any one of these uncouth ruffians.

"I agree that we all need to take turns guarding the Human, but how many of us can honestly be trusted with her? It is clear now that all of Twisted Wonderland will soon know she is here if they don't already. Frankly I wouldn't trust any one of you with her safety. Riddle, what makes you think you should be the one to protect her?"

"W-What?"

"It was one of your dorm's students who decided to post a picture of her. I think your dorm has done enough damage for now. I should think you would agree to revoke your own rights to guard her until you can prove you are able to keep your students in line."

"What is that supposed to mean, Vil?"

"Oh? Do I have to spell it out for you? Usually you're smarter than this, Riddle."

Vil stood, his crest raised and an almost cruel smile curling his lips as he approached the distraught Unicorn. As far as Riddle was concerned, only he knew the rules to taking proper care of a Human so only he could provide adequate accommodations for her. But the way Vil spoke made a dark kind of doubt seep into Riddle's mind, wondering if the Harpy could be right and that alone was an upsetting reality Riddle didn't really want to face at the moment.

"You can't even begin to protect that Human from students in your own dorm, how can you hope protect her from actual threats?"

Riddle wanted to retort or have the grinning Harpy's head but he couldn't find the words to respond to the proud bird. Vil only grinned wider at the silence he was met with before turning to the other Housewardens with that same energy.

"None of you can. Leona shouldn't even be considered given he's a Nemean Lion. Azul will try to make a deal with her. Kalim will lose her within minutes. Idia can't even talk to us let alone talk to and protect her. Really, the only two who could be of any use are Malleus and I. Malleus is genetically wired to be a good guardian and I certainly have enough skill to actually keep her alive."

Crowley considered Vil's words, tilting his head side to side as he thought about what the Harpy said. He was of the mind to just let the Human choose her own guard, but maybe he would have to reconsider that given how upset the Housewardens were getting over her and it had only been two days. There was truth to the unusual charm of the extinct species and the hold they clearly had over others even in such a short time.

"I think you all are ignoring the bigger truth and being selfish as hell."

The growl came from the golden lion that now lifted his head from the table he had been resting it on. His green eyes glinted in the morning light and the faint sunrays seemed to shine off of his golden coat. Even his wild tresses held a faint glimmer that made the prince look every bit as regal as his lineage suggested.

"She isn't from here. She has a home she likely wants to go back to. We can't talk like we're keeping her when we should find a way to send that Mousey home."

"I would agree with you, Leona," Azul started, his eyes glinting with humor at the knowledge he was about to reveal, "but there are a few problems with that notion. Jade and I spoke with her yesterday and she claims she came from somewhere filled with Humans. There is nowhere like that left in Twisted Wonderland. I would wager she is from another reality entirely, one where only Humans thrive. One that we can't get to despite many trying in the past to prove we are not alone. I don't know how she got here, but she is stuck here now. Besides, do you really want to be the one to tell Malleus we are taking his Human away? I get you don't pay attention in classes, but I certainly do and I have heard the many tales of Dragons going as far as to kidnap Humans they are fond of."

Leona growled a low warning to the Cecilia to watch his words lest he be the recieving party of the Lion's ire. Though he was a lazy Lion and didn't seem to be bothered with much, he was still a force to be reckoned with when he actually decided to fight.

"Why the hell should I care why that damn lizzard wants the Human?"

"Well, Dragons and other Fae did take the extinction of Humans the hardest and mourn the longest, I would wager the older ones are still in mourning. Next to them, the Merfolk were the next most heartbroken by the ending of such a fascinating species. I wouldn't expect you to understand- being a Nemean Lion and all- but-"

"Keep talking, Cephalo-punk and I'll give you something to mourn over."

Azul closed his mouth quickly, knowing he wouldn't actually stand a chance if pitted against the weapon-immune golden Lion. For all his abilities, so many seemed to pale in comparison to the sheer strength Leona contained in his form alone. Out of the water, a Lion would always win in a direct fight against an octopus, the same was true for Nemean Lions and Cecilia.

"I can protect her better than most of you but none of you want to admit that. You all want to pretend I'll gobble that little Mousey up and refuse to even let me stand my own ground. What? Too afraid she'll like me more than you lot?"

This got Vil's feathers to ruffle as the Harpy seemed ready to fight the grinning Lion that so clearly challenged those at the table. Luckily for everyone else, the floating tablet finally decided to interrupt the conversation.

"Fine, we all gotta do it. I vote everyone's dorm gets put in a raffle and the next Housewarden to guard her is chosen that way."

"This is unlike you, Idia. You don't even show up in person to most classes."

"Humans were the best inventors we had before they died out. The last human lived on the Isle of Woe and made enough inventions to keep the Shroud family rich for centuries. Why wouldn't I want the best story telling species and most inventive species to give me new ideas? Probably why you want her too, Azul."

"Well, I certainly understand a profitable business venture when one is presented to me..."

"Exactly my point."

Crowley nodded, clapping his hands together and drawing the attention of those at the table. He heard exactly what he wanted to hear and he was willing to give every Housewarden a fair chance, even Leona.

"I believe a raffle is a fantastic idea, Mr. Shroud! And because I am just so kind to all, every Housewarden will be given a fair shot."

"Headmage, I beg you to reconsider-"

"Let's start this raffle!"

Riddle tried to start but the Crow had made up his mind and there was no changing it. As he used magic to summon his usual way of raffling students, he glanced around the room for a moment. Odd, he only counted six but there should be seven?

"... Did no one remember to invite Mr. Draconia to today's meeting?"

~•§•~

You stood in the kitchen of Ramschackle dorms, tiredly cooking up enough breakfast to feed your uninvited guests, Cater, yourself, and Grim. Despite your annoyance at being the only one to cook- let alone being the only one who really knew how- you dutifully continued your task. According to Silver, Lilia actually cooked often but was so abysmally bad at it they all thought cooking was a useless skill. It wasn't until you cooked for them that they even realized cooking food could actually make it taste better and not worse.

"If you all insist on making me cook for you, I'm going to insist you all provide the ingredients. The kitchen may be well stocked now, but if I have to keep feeding extra mouths every day the pantry is going to eventually run out."

You idly listened to the sizzle as you half-jokingly scolded the group that milled about your kitchen and sniffed in your direction occasionally. They were eager to get some breakfast from you and had all woken up before you did in anticipation for the warm meal you would no doubt create. Apparently you had once again moved to cuddle Silver's warm body in your sleep and the Reindeer refused to let Grim or even Lilia wake you before the sun was mostly up. The five others in the shared nest were all in agreement to let you wake on your own time, but your actual invited guest was quick to herald in the morning and woke you. It seemed like Malleus and Sebek were ready to attack the redhead but quickly calmed when you pulled yourself out of the nest to start cooking.

Cater had been an affectionate nuisance and asked you nonstop questions about what you were doing and how Humans cooked things. It became very clear to you- based on his questions and curiosity- that junkfood really didn't exist in Twisted Wonderland. Despite how you wanted to cry upon hearing this and mourn the loss of your comfort foods, you realized that you may be able to make your own junkfoods. You would certainly need help acquiring things, but there had to be some kind of inventive monster on this campus that could help you.

"I agree! These guys can bring the food and you can cook it! Why let them get all this free stuff if they don't help with getting or making it?"

"I can help cook-"

You were quick to smack the reaching hand with your wooden spoon, startling Lilia as his wings fluffed out in surprise.

"You," you started with a near threatening tone, "will keep your hands off of the things in my kitchen. Silver already told me how your cooking is and I will not allow you to scorch my meals."

"I think I'm a pretty good cook-"

"The answer is 'no'. You don't get to cook in my kitchen. I agree with Grim that it would be a welcome change to have you all bring me the foods you want and maybe even more spices than the few I have here, but you aren't cooking. If you really want to help me right now, you can start washing dishes."

Silver sent a silent thanks your way for sparing him and the others from another evening spent eating Lilia's cooking. The Bat Fae had learned to love cooking from the few Humans he had the pleasure of meeting, but he was so abysmally bad at it that his 'meals' could barely be considered food. Malleus and Sebek were also relieved to see you quickly shut down any idea of letting Lilia cook and they all breathed a sigh of relief.

"I can do dishes! Riddle and Trey make me do them all the time. Don't know why Trey never lets me help him bake things though."

Cater was quick to roll up his sleeves, starting on the pile of dishes that had already begun to accumulate in the large sink. Maybe it wouldn't be all that bad if you could get your freeloaders to help clean or gather ingredients instead of doing it all yourself. Despite calling them freeloaders, you were appreciative of at least Malleus and Lilia being fairly adept guards for your safety. It did make you wonder what Malleus had done last night, but you also felt in your heart of hearts that you didn't really want to know if the lovely Dragon had killed someone on your behalf.

"Hey," there was loud scratching at that side door again and you already knew who it was, "the door's locked again. Please, have mercy, I'm just a starving Gnoll."

"... I really shouldn't have fed him. He's gonna come back every day and night for more."

You had the foresight to add extra to what you were making, anticipating the unusual pull your cooking seemed to have on the local monster population. Part of you wanted to keep feeding Ruggie as the gaunt appearance of the ever hungry Gnoll pulled at your heartstrings. His clear hunger and almost non-existent stomach told you just how little the Hyena man actually ate and it genuinely saddened you to know he was likely actually starving.

"Lilia, can you get the door?"

"On it~"

Ruggie was quick to scamper up to your side and sniff loudly at the food you were cooking. His tail wagged at almost impossible speeds as his stomach howled to be satiated, his Hyena head bobbing up and down when he began to cackle in excitement. Despite the warnings you had received about Gnolls, Ruggie didn't act like a slavering beast that sought Human flesh, instead he seemed much like someone who grew up never knowing when he could eat again or if he would be safe in the night. He reminded you so much of that first good look you got at Grim, covered in all the scars that riddled his little body and marred his cute appearance with tales of agony sustained. Both of them made you want to protect them however you could.

As you moved over to another pan which you had been using to cook up some scrambled eggs, you couldn't help but chuckle when Ruggie continued to vocalize his excitement. The cackling and whooping from the Hyena was almost a comforting song in the background of your morning. It was only when he reached a grizzled paw towards the pans that you barked out a similar whoop at him. Your sound startled the Gnoll as his gaze snapped to you in surprise, his nose working overtime as if to find the fellow Gnoll that whooped in response to his sounds.

"Woah! You didn't say you knew how to speak Gnoll!"

"I don't."

"What was that then?"

"Where I'm from, Humans are typically quite good at vocal mimicry because it is how most of our infants learn to speak. You were whooping, so I whooped back."

Ruggie cocked his head to the side curiously, you could almost see the gears in his head turning and grinding as he took in your words. His short tail had been still as he lost himself in thought before it resumed the rapid wagging pace as his brain caught back up to the rest of him.

"Cool! What other sounds can you make?"

The rest of your time cooking was spent making various noises- from growls, to cackles, even to various barking- to entertain the Gnoll and distract him from the food. Once it was ready, you had Sebek get enough plates for the eight of you and set to divvying up the meals. Naturally, Ruggie and Grim were the first to happily dig in to their breakfasts.

Things were peaceful and somewhat quiet, but as it usually was in this strange new world, things were not going to stay quiet for long.

"(Y/n)," a familiar voice called from the direction of the door to your dorms, recognizing the voice of the Headmage Crow, "I have news and a gift for you, my little chick! Where are you?"

"We're in the kitchen!"

The Headmage was surprised to see the odd group you had gathered in your kitchen, looking over the various students in surprise.

"Mr. Diamond? What are you doing here?"

"I told Cater he could stay here for the night since he was kicked out of his dorm. Sure, what he did was stupid and I am still mad about it, but no one should have to spend a night in those woods. I wouldn't be able to forgive myself if something terrible happened to him, especially in the name of protecting me."

"It's beautiful," the Crow sniffed as if he were about to cry, "such a heartwarming display of genuine kindness! I would expect nothing less from the beautiful heart of a Human! I've missed you wonderfully naïve and forgiving little creatures so much! Nothing quite like a Human's forgiveness to soothe the turbulent soul!"

You were stunned when the Crow actually burst into tears, covering his face with his hands and openly weeping from your- in your mind- simple act of kindness. It seemed the others weren't prepared for this behavior either as they all stared at the fully grown Crow Fae man weeping and bawling like an infant. He was quick to compose himself despite the sudden onslaught of tears as he pulled you into a hug you were too surprised to return, wondering what his problem was that he was so ready to emotionally break down in front of you.

"My beautiful little chick is the kindest soul to ever live and grace these halls with such a warm heart!"

"Um..."

"Here," he interrupted your confusion and pulled back to shove a hastily wrapped package into your hands, "A gift from your professors! It's a cellular device to let you communicate with us when you need. Sam assures me Idia has already programed our numbers into it and it is ready to be used whenever you wish."

"Thanks? Why-"

"Also! The other Housewardens and I have come to an agreement concerning your continued need for guards due to Mr. Diamond's actions. All Housewardens and their accompanying Vice-Housewardens will contribute to protecting this dorm and will switch out every week based on a raffle. This week is Diasomnia's turn, next week is Ignihyde's turn. You haven't met Idia or Ortho yet, but they'll be by to introduce themselves soon. Well, Ortho probably will be, Idia is excited to meet you but he isn't one to socialize much..."

A deep snarl came from where Malleus stood, casually setting his plate down to face the Crow directly and continue the deep percussive noise of his displeasure. It was more than obvious to everyone that the Dragon was not content with the idea of giving you up even for others to guard.

"You dare divvy up my hoard like I should have no say in what happens to her? My Human is not a pet to trade with anyone and everyone who takes interest."

"I'm not saying that, Malleus, what I am saying is her protection should be taken seriously by all students at Night Raven College and the best way to show others she is worth defending is to allow them time to form their own bonds with her by protecting her. Besides, Diasomnia needs their Housewarden and Vice-Housewarden. It isn't fair to those students to be left without yourself and Mr. Vanrouge permanently."

Malleus just growled in response, knowing Crowley was right but still furious he was not part of the decision making process.

"And Kingscholar? What of his dorm?"

"Mr. Kingscholar is a Housewarden and has made a convincing argument for allowing himself to be one of (Y/n)'s guards. As Savanaclaw has no Vice-Housewarden, it will soley fall on his shoulders when his name is drawn."

Ruggie then spoke up, trying to give yourself and Malleus a wide berth to not upset the Dragon further. Though the Gnoll was quick to fold to more powerful mages, he was excited to hear Leona would be given a chance and equal respect as a Housewarden.

"If Leona actually asked to help, no way he will let anyone tell him no. He doesn't like doing extra work, so the fact he volunteered for extra work shows he actually means to do it!"

"Exactly my thinking! Why deny such a strong student a chance to prove himself? Who knows, perhaps his time with (Y/n) will prove Nemean Lions do not deserve the negative view society has of them."

You were irritated that none of these men bothered to ask you how you feel about the situation, but if the nighttime interruptions were anything to go off of, you were still in danger. Though the prospect of being bounced around between several monster men didn't excite you, there was obviously need for their protective behavior.

"Now, I hope you all enjoy your classes today. I hear there may even be an unbirthday party happening in Heartslabuyl that you may wish to attend. Have a pleasant morning, my little chick."

[rainerioun]

𝖶𝖧𝖠𝖳 𝖲𝖧𝖮𝖴𝖫𝖣 𝖸𝖮𝖴 𝖥𝖮𝖢𝖴𝖲 𝖮𝖭 𝖳𝖧𝖨𝖲 𝖶𝖤𝖤𝖪? | 𝗉𝗂𝖼𝗄 𝖺 𝖼𝖺𝗋𝖽.

— Hi! This reading is pretty straightforward and simple, but I tried to spice it up with other elements. Wishing you all an amazing week!

ORIGINAL DATE POSTED : MARCH 31ST, 2024.

HOW TO CHOOSE A PILE : The outcome may vary based on whether you receive clear messages visually or intuitively. If you resonate more with selecting a pile visually, trust that inclination. Personally, I believe the notion that 'looks can deceive,' so I prefer to take a deep breath and close my eyes, allowing the pile I'm meant to connect with to come to me. You might see the color of the pile, sense or hear a number, or simply feel its overall vibe.

Please don’t redistribute or edit my content.

MUST READ + MASTERLIST | KO-FI

PILE ONE

Main Focus. Phoenix : Freedom from Suffering and Past Karma. Reincarnation. Nightingale : Fearless Voice, Speech, Communication, or Song.

This week, prioritize expressing yourself openly and communicating clearly. Release worries from past experiences to embrace new ones. Whether through work, hobbies, casual conversations, or anything else, you can offer valuable contributions for personal growth and the benefit of others.

Additional Focus. Step Away from the Crowd. | It's Not an Emergency. Material and Spiritual Prosperity. | Choose Wisely. Teacher : Share Your Knowledge. Teacher — Light : Ability to communicate knowledge, experience, skill, or wisdom.

I was taken aback when I drew two teacher cards from different decks, but it really emphasizes what I mentioned earlier. Allow yourself to unconsciously or consciously guide others. This might involve sharing experiences openly, teaching a skill, or imparting wisdom. This will end up benefiting you in the long term. If you're in a work setting, this could manifest there. If not, it may reveal itself in another form.

If you're currently pondering over a decision or choice, it might resurface later in the week. [ If this doesn't resonate with you, this could also form suddenly and randomly. ] Take your time; there's no need to rush. Remember, it might not be as significant as it seems initially. Approach it with a clear mind and stability, allowing yourself to make a wise decision without being swayed by others or external factors.

If Wanted, Balance Your Root Chakra.

Affirmations: I am centered and grounded. I am safe and secure. I have all I need. I am where I'm meant to be.

Try Using/Wearing: Smokey Quartz, Red Jasper, Black Obsidian, Red Garnet.

Activities: Go outdoors. Walk barefoot. Dance. Meditate. Journal. Ensure you attend to your basic needs. Engage in grounding exercises, both mentally and physically. Physical activities, such as jogging or exercise. Declutter your space. Listen to music or sing.

PILE TWO

Main Focus. Oyster : Patient, Secret-Keeper, Hiding Inner Treasures. Unicorn : Reconnecting to Higher Wisdom or Divinity.

This week, consider starting a journey of deeper self-discovery, even if it's just taking small steps. Nothing happens overnight. Allow yourself to slow down and reflect, practicing patience with both life and yourself. If you're religious or spiritual, try deepening that connection this week; you might discover the answers you seek or a kickstart in the right direction.

Additional Focus. Don't Sweat the Small Stuff. | Rise and Shine. The Waiting Game. | Authority. Family : All in the Pride. Victim — Light : Prevents you from letting yourself be victimized, or victimizing others.

Taking it slow is crucial this week. Rushing through life isn't the way to go; instead, allow things to unfold naturally for now. Empower yourself to let this process happen without stressing over easily fixable or insignificant matters.

For some of you dealing with family or close ones, let things simmer for a bit before diving back in. If not, perhaps reach out and say hello!

If Wanted, Balance Your Third-Eye Chakra.

Affirmations: I trust my intuition. I accept things how they are. I am insightful. I see and think clearly. All I need is within me. I trust in my decisions.

Try Using/Wearing: Sodalite, Lapis Lazuli, Sapphire, Blue Aventurine, Amethyst.

Activities: Visualization. Do puzzles or other mentally stimulating tasks. Do what you simply feel called to do. Pay extra attention to your dreams, and write them down. Get creative. Limit screen time.

PILE THREE

Main Focus. Octopus : Reaching, Yearning, Lacking Boundaries and Direction. Hawk : Watchful, All-Seeing, Messenger of Divinity. Golden Egg : Message at the Center of the Heart, The Unstruck Sound.

Taking quiet time for yourself is important. Embrace the peace and comfort of what you already have. There's no need to desperately search or long for something at this moment. It might feel challenging without a clear direction, but if you've been seeking a sign, consider this it. Pushing and rushing will only lead to a shortage of these things. Allow yourself the time and space to form them naturally, whether you're actively involved or not.

This is just a gentle nudge for a few people: if you've been contemplating starting therapy or seeking help, please consider doing so. I'll leave it at that since it's a sensitive topic.

Additional Focus. Reclaim Your Art. | Celebrate You. Light. | Base Chakra. | Financial and Material Changes. Fullness : Give Thanks. | Conundrum : Up In The Air. Rescuer — Light : Provides strength and support to others in crisis. Acts out of love with no expectation of reward.

For those of you who engage in any form of creativity, no matter how small, consider spending some time alone with your craft this week. You might find it brings even more clarity than before. Embracing the unique aspects of yourself is always a beautiful and necessary thing. Remember, you are strong, and any challenges you face will eventually fade away as long as you continue to love and nurture yourself. Trust that things will work out; sometimes, you have to be your own savior for the right people or opportunities to come into your life.

If Wanted, Balance Your Heart Chakra.

—The Root/Base Chakra card appeared, but I sense that focusing on the heart is more necessary at the moment. You can explore the other later on. If you're still interested, you can find more about it in the lower half of the first pile. <3

Affirmations: Wherever I go, love is all around me. I love myself to the fullest. I am worthy of love. Love flows freely. I feel my heart's calling. I honor myself. I live in harmony. I forgive myself and others.

Try Using/Wearing: Rose Quartz, Aventurine, Jade, Pink or Green Tourmaline, Opal.

Activities: Pamper yourself. Give love and help to those in need. Volunteer. Go to a pet shop. Do things you loved as a child.

PILE FOUR

Main Focus. Panther : Annihilation of the Unnecessary, Purging. Camel : Resourceful, Independent, Knows One's Self.

This week, take a more action-oriented approach. Be bold and productive—it suits you. Try relying on yourself as you tackle tasks and goals. Let go of anything that no longer serves you, that includes toxic people.

Additional Focus. Turn Back. | Connect with Your Soul Family.  Heart Chakra. | Rejoice in Celebration. Self-Confidence : Stand Your Ground. | Watcher: Be Your Own Witness.  Fool — Light : Fearlessly revealing emotion. Helping people laugh at absurdity and hypocrisy.

You need to learn to be your own support. Celebrate your confidence and embrace yourself. Remember, it doesn't always have to be rigid and serious—you can express this through humor and laughter. You can be a strong figure while also being open about your emotions. Connect more with the people around you in this positive energy.

If Wanted, Balance Your Heart Chakra.

Affirmations: Wherever I go, love is all around me. I love myself to the fullest. I am worthy of love. Love flows freely. I feel my heart's calling. I honor myself. I live in harmony. I forgive myself and others.

Try Using/Wearing: Rose Quartz, Aventurine, Jade, Pink or Green Tourmaline, Opal.

Activities: Pamper yourself. Give love and help to those in need. Volunteer. Go to a pet shop. Do things you loved as a child.

[walks-the-ages]

Jasmine Sherman (they/them) has their official campaign website claiming that they have Ballot Access in 48 states.

Tiktok user @ arrdubs has done multiple deep dives into how Jasmine Sherman's claims are false, and why the claims of 48 states cannot be verified on any official state websites they claim to have Ballot Access in.

This is their shorter, original video, which the above longer one is a sequel to, and if you look in the comments of this video, you'll see people from Arizona, New Mexico, Tennessee, and more who have confirmed Jasmine Sherman is not on their state's ballot despite the claims to the contrary on the official campaign website:

https://www.tiktok.com/@arrrdubs/video/7376416978921131306?is_from_webapp=1&sender_device=pc I literally less than 24 hours ago heard about this candidate and wanted to vote for them based on the surface-level information I'd heard about them, but it was pointed out to me that the "48 state ballot access" claim could not be verified, it only took a few hours to find swathes of websites that refute the claims on their official website, including the two different sites that Jasmine Sherman's own website recommends.

Jasmine Sherman's website, as of July 29th 2024, explicitly states for all states except Alaska and Georgia:

Jasmine is on the ballot under the Unicorn Party.

On the applicable states that allow write-ins, there's this little note:

Write-ins are also allowed for all candidates, so you can write in Jasmine's name if you don't see them on the ballot.

This is, in my mind, a planned cop out, for when Election Day rolls around and inevitably, thousands of people discover the candidate who's been promising them they're on their state's ballots for months actually isn't.

So now, "Unicorn Party". if you try to find any official state websites (or otherwise) with "Unicorn Party" on the Ballot, what do you find?

Zip. Zilch. Nothing.

The "Unicorn Party" is not on the ballot for any of the 50 states.

Every single Third-Party Ballot Access tracker out there shows all the other popular Third Party candidates, including ones I've never heard of til now..... except for the candidate who claims to have 48 states with ballot access?

Jasmine Sherman, officially, is literally still part of the Green Party when it comes to Ballot Access in the states -- but they claim to have more than double the amount of Ballot Access that Dr. Jill Stein has??

If you click on their big bold Palestine, Congo, and Sudan flags on their home page, are you expecting to go to a piece written by the candidate who's website we're on where they're running for President?

Well, instead of anything that makes sense like that, Jasmine Sherman's website just links to random news articles that don't even mention Jasmine Sherman in any capacity??

This is what comes up when you click on their "stance on Palestine":

Here's their "stance on Congo"

and here's their "stance on Sudan":

Literally none of the above were written by or affiliated with Jasmine Sherman in any way shape or form.

plain text: Literally none of the above were written by or affiliated with Jasmine Sherman in any way shape or form.

The link for Sudan is from May 2023 and is a single paragraph that says

May 14, 2023, 10:00 AM In mid-2019, after the ouster of Sudanese dictator Omar al-Bashir, political analysts hoped that Washington might be able to help Sudan chart a path to democracy. That hope was short-lived. In late 2021, Sudan’s generals staged a coup, and after 18 months of controversial U.S. policies attempting to revive the country’s democratic transition, armed conflict erupted again in Khartoum last month.

That's it. That's the official link for "Jasmine Sherman's Stance on a Free Congo".

The link for Palestine is just an overview of what kinds of weapons had been sent to Israel as of February 2024, with an off-hand comment about (an unnamed) Aaron Bushnell.

It literally looks like for the Official Jasmine Sherman Campaign Website , they just did a quick google search in the first few months of 2024 and pasted whatever random article sounded promising, and literally have not given any actual writing by themselves on their official campaign website.

And this is someone who is running for President of the United States, who is literally copying and pasting random news articles onto some flags hoping no one will click on them to seem legitimate instead of actually writing out clear and concise statements on their own website??

Don't forget, they're so modern and quirky and in-touch with young people!

That's why they want, instead of banning guns from being owned by every other random person in the USA, the country with the highest rate of mass shootings in the world, that instead, every single child in the United States should learn how to handle and aim a gun from before Kindergarten age upward and make it as easy to own a gun as getting your driver's license:

They also claim they want to Abolish the Police, but they also support the Death Penalty, specifically and explicitly by Firing Squad or Morphine Overdose:

They've got a footnote above this policy, saying how they've "evolved" passed this........ but they haven't actually updated their policy to reflect what that "evolution" has turn into. Do they want to Abolish The Death Penalty now? Do they support different methods of executing human beings? Do they accept having more than their stated single year for due process? Who knows!

It's had this footnote about "evolution" since at least May 2nd 2024, because that's as far back as the Wayback Machine goes.

They've also had literally zero writing on their "policy" for Landback, because it's been "currently being drafted" since April 2024 at least. Not even a basic statement to be had on the policy page, just "being drafted".

If you've been seeing posts about Jasmine Sherman and want to vote for them, read up on all their policies, then check with your local State governments and check to see if they're actually on your Ballot like their website claims.

I've now seen multiple people from multiple states confirm they contacted their respective state offices and Jasmine Sherman is not on their ballot, including in areas that the deadline has already passed.

[sgiandubh]

Logo wars: the unicorn vs. the griffin

Ever since August, the battle between the Warchief and the Sassenach has been lurking somewhere, on the outskirts of my radar. While some still deny there is anything going wrong between S and McTavish, I have strong reservations it's all about sunshine, lollipops and roses in that department. And I couldn't help but wonder if the key to the problem was not to be found in the very disingenuous way Graham chose to build the marketing strategy of his products and to update his own personal brand, in the process.

So I took a deep dive into socials and this is something that is going to take some more time to complete. If this kind of content is not your jam or you disagree with my premises, it's totally fine with me, but maybe you should skip these posts. And since we have to start somewhere, let's start with their companies' logos: they have a lot of things to tell us.

Soon after the Remarkable Week-end, S finally unveiled a business project he'd been alluding to for quite a while (if anything is wrong in here, kindly correct me in comments). This was the logo and the slogan they are still using until today:

The Sassenach Unique Spirits. Spirit of Home.

As compared with what McTavish released this summer:

McTavish Spirits. A Scotsman's Dream of America.

First logo: clean, sober lines. A Unicorn, whose contours seem more aptly designed for a sports car or a new, innovative line of home equipment (think rather audio systems, not refrigerators). Or even an elegant, country life oriented clothing line, with all the paraphernalia (gloves, scarves, etc - but we already knew about the First Love tartan, then, so it's still a possibility).

Unique spirits, with all my deep affection and due respect for a real effort, is not the best they could have come up with. You see, that's hardly a sales argument or an efficient pitch. Just like any dog owner on this planet would tell you that Bebe or Fido or Snoopy are 'the best dogs ever', a new entrepreneur would confidently tell you his booze is 'unique'. The effort S put into patiently educating his passion for whisky and creating something personal out of it deserved better. Not the completely expected and almost meaningless 'unique' - this is very lazy copywriting, I think (not a copywriter, just an exacting client, here). It spells low budget where we needed something irresistible.

Onwards to the Unicorn. Of course, it's all about Scotland - it's whisky, for Christ's sake. But, it's also about this:

This is the sixth panel of one of the most moving, exquisite things that ever graced this planet: The Lady and the Unicorn cycle of Flemish tapestries, now making the pride and joy of the Cluny National Museum of the Middle Ages, in Paris. A place I know well and was a very frequent visitor of, when I was living just about three blocks away from it. Its story has to do with the Five Senses and this is the last panel, featuring a mysterious message on that lavish tent's roof:

A mon seul Désir. It's French for: "To my sole desire". Unique, indeed.

Let's let things flow a bit in free association mode (I know Puffy did it on her blog with the Barbour project, but she didn't invent it and she certainly has no copyright - so yeah, waiting for a couple more idiots to block right after posting this):

Unicorn... Scotland... legend... purity...even Mary Queen of Scots asked for a unicorn horn to make sure the water was not poisoned, while in prison... untamed...chivalry.... woman...only a woman can tame and lure a unicorn... Medieval...Cluny... desire... sole desire... soul desire (heh)...unique...passion.... statement... labor of love... personal testimony...first love and we wrap it up nicely with a smile ('she is the original Sassenach', ahem).

That was the first set of (genuine) talking points he went with. Now, we deal with a contorted & painful explanation: Scotland is an inclusive nation and land, I am the Sassenach, etc. What do our unsuspecting American friends know, after all? But to a #silly European, it makes no sense: yes, Scotland is a very inclusive, open and even avantgarde society for many things, but this is whisky and should spell tradition, not innovation. It should spell mystery and something that comes (at great costs) from a faraway, fabled land of mists and druids and lochs. Not from a blaring EDI crossroads, where people are gathered to protest against global warming. Then how about that unnecessary 'I am the Sassenach' - no, Sir, you aren't, plus I hope you know how we, shippers immediately interpret it ('blood of my blood and bone of my bone' - 😁).

But your main problem with the name and the brand that goes along with is not even this. The problem is that a unicorn is always female. You have a feminine brand for a masculine product.

So instead of a haphazard explanation which smells of improv, why not just take the second, abstract, meaning of unicorn and just say cheekily something along those loose lines, for example:

'Well, we are a new, innovative enterprise which aspires to be a smaller unicorn in the world of spirits. Maybe we'll never make it to 1 billion dollars, but it's the bravery and the innovative spirit that we bring with us from Scotland, our home (cue in waxing lyrical and fill in the blanks with all the tropes you can think of). So we're the new kid on the block, the outsider, the underdog set to conquer new lands and new opportunities, exactly like Jamie Fraser, the character I play in OL does (cue in credible retconning of your initial strategy: you need a new client base to generate sales volume & secure or even multiply returning sales and those people DGAF about OL).'

Granted, you'll totally throw under the bus the whole initial plan, but hey - it's an elegant way out of a conundrum.

Second logo, quite a different situation. It's busy, busy, busy with the kind of motifs that make one immediately think of an engraved Colt grip. Something like this, perhaps, only stylized:

Instead of the Unicorn, we have a double beast: a Lion and an Eagle. In Ancient Greece, this mythical combo was called a  γρύψ (gryps), which later gave 'griffin' in English. It is a hybrid, but then so is bourbon. The Lion is a symbol for the European roots of the brand and the Eagle, well - easy, America, pointing West and meaning new perspectives, freedom, etc. But the brand is McTavish Spirits, in a very personal approach: this is my bourbon (isn't it ironic, for a white label project?) and this is my story and these are my (a Scotsman's) dreams of America. Transparent. Legible. I mean business - this is not a labor of love.

Free association again:

The Lion self... the Older, Wiser Guy... the Leader... the Statesman... Dougal MacKenzie...the (hello) Warchief...but this is America... so I am also the Lonely Gunman... I am exploring a New Frontier... bringing my past with me (all the classy, gentleman-like persona)... telling my personal story, too, in the process... from my Scottish roots to making it in Hollywood... so I am also The Storyteller (unlike that young nincompoop, who just goes zorbing and chases barmaids) ... so, maybe, just maybe if you listen to my stories, you will forget I put zero effort into trying samples and touring the whole land looking for perfect balance, and just went for the easy solution and a quick buck... buy my booze and I'll tell you more... I am reliable and tried and tested and still young enough and strong enough and determined enough (the Eagle) to have a new wife and new plans.

Plus: a masculine brand for a masculine product. I won't keep scores for a while, but pfff... point taken.

This is not only logo conception copycat and shameless, reactive competition, on very thin ice and on a (at this point in time, at least) very slim portion of the market. This is, mark me, war between two people who still have some gigs together.

We'll see next time who shows up at their parallel events and buys their booze and also how they choose to engage (or not) with these people. I think I begin to understand what McTavish's brand strategy is, but I need to have a second, closer look. More on this, tomorrow.

[badsalmonella]

HEY HEY HEY *SLAPS YOUR FACE* WAKE UP!!! I JUST MADE THE MOST INSANE STRING OF DISCOVERIES

-Setting the scene: I can't sleep. I'm rolling around in bed. I'm thinking about Camelot. The musical. As one does. Guys we ALL do this c'mon.

-Man the love triangle dynamics changing from version to version is interestinggg.

-Man the way the show sometimes has some interesting things to say about sexuality but also sometimes wants Nothing to do with sexuality while also having it written in the text is interestinggggg.... I wonder if anyone way smarter than me has ever written a deep dive essay about THAT.

-I'M NOT GETTING ANY SLEEP TONIGHT! TO GOOGLE!

-there actually is something written up about the movie but I think the full thing is behind a paywall siiiigh

-Oh what's this? A very interestingly titled BroadwayWorld forum title about scandalous nudity??? In Camelot????

- Strap in. Go pee before I start the car. This is INSANE.

-So what I stumble upon is a theater company in Massachusetts DEEPLY embroiled in the drama of advising people that their Camelot is GONNA HAVE NUDITY. Drama from 2005 (?) trapped in the amber that is the wonderful world of the internet

- The theater goers of Massachusetts are GOOPED.

- Some of them are also stupid lots of "well if you're adding nudity maybe I'LL ACTUALLY STAY AWAKE TO WATCH CAMELOT😂😂😂😂"

-also "Listen. There has never been sex EVER in Camelot" which ????????

- Like everyone is going in like "WHERE COULD YOU POSSSSSIBLIY PUT NUDITY???" bestie...you can't come up with one educated guess where they might slide that in? "NIMUE??? WILL NIMUE BE TITS OUT?????" "Will Morgan Le Fay be NAKED??? because she lives alONE IN THE FOREST???" y'all.

- Like so so sooo many entries in before someone eNTERTAINS the thought that it could be for a Lance Genny hook up.

-I don't know if this person was referencing another production or THIS MASSACHUSETTS PRODUCTION? They made it unclear. But they mention a staging of Fie on Goodness....where Mordred riles up the knights so much....they take off their shirts????? H eLLO????? ❓❓❓

-A NEW THREAD IS ADDED TO BROADWAYWORLD FORUMS

- A NEW CHALLENGER ENTERS THE RING

-Bro. A full blown RANT from the THEATER COMPANY THEMSELVES

-SO MUCH TO UNPACK HERE.

-What is Talking Broadway and why are you BANNED bestie??? WHAT IS THE TEA WITH THE ADMIN???

- ALSO AND THIS IS THE BIG ONE WHAT DO YOU MEAN THE NUDITY IS IMPLEMENTED VIA A TOPLESS BALLET DANCING UNICORN?????

-WHERE??? WHEN??? HELLO????

-CAMELOT YOU ARE ALREADY AT 3 HOURS NOW WHEN DO YOU HAVE TIME FOR A TITS OUT BALLET????

- it's 4 am. I flex my googling fingers. I'm getting to the bottom of this. I am NOTHING if not MENTALLY ILL ABOUT CAMELOT THE BROADWAY MUSICAL BY LERNER AND LOWE. And by GOD I will document it with GREAT DETAIL for you ALL!

- First of all no I did not find any evidence of what THIS SPECIFIC 2005 BALLET LOOKED LIKE

- But I did figure out where there was a ballet!

- Listen so there are two old men in the forums arguing about how on the OG OG OLD OLD OLD SCHOOL RECORDS FOR CAMELOT??? I guess you can catch some of the cut songs/versions of songs?

-One man insists a number known as "The Persuasion" or "Enchanted Forest Ballet" is on this record

-Other man flexes that he just got OUT his old album and it is not there.

-but either way I have my lead.

-So for those of you not SO DEEP IN THE CAMELOT SAUCE YOU CAN NO LONGER SEE THE SUN This is referring to an OLLDDDD version of the show where Mordred wants to fuck with King Arthur and keep him out of the castle so Lancelot and Genny can get caught treason hugging so what he does is he goes to the forest, finds Morgan Le Fay, convinces her to create a magic forcefield around Arthur while he's out and about so he can't move and he DOES THIS by bribing her with chocolate which works because you see Morgan Le Fay in this version lives in a home made of food BUT NO SWEETS so she can be bribed with chocol----

-yEah so that got written out of the show fast. And for good reason. But here it is if you are curious. I think this is where the unicorn boobies would be featured (yes. Remember this is about nude Camelot in Massachusetts DO NOT LOSE SIGHT OF THE PLOT HERE PEOPLE) also detail for those of you who have seen the bootleg too many times the revival repurposes this tune in the score for Morgan's entrance. NEAT!

-Okay also??? Random detail? Merlin was played by a child because Merlin ages backwards and at the end of the show that child plays Tom of Warwick. Neat

-Have you made it this far??? Are you still here???? I GOT ONE MORE THRILLING TURN FOR YOU ALL GUESS WHO WAS IN THE ENSEMBLE FOR THIS PRODUCTION OF GRITTY NUDITY CAMELOT IN MASSACHUSETTS

-JOSH CHAN!!! FROM CRAZY EX GIRLFRIEND!!!!

-Okay now you have made it to the end. I'm gonna need S O much coffee for work today.

🧍🏻‍♀️

[feiandart]

This is something people asked me more than a couple times until now in the comments, both in the Italian version of Sugar and in the English one. I often answer this with a couple paragraphs of light explanations, but you know what? Have a seat, I'll actually talk about this in a proper way and this may be a very long ride.

I warn you: I'm writing this from my mobile in my free time. This means early in the morning or late at night after a whole day doing things. My brain is shit in those moments so you could find a lot of errors. I'm sorry if my English will be poor, I'm not really able to correct anything. (Also, I prefer to give you my honest flow without corrections. That may actually help getting the right vibe from all of this? I hope so).

But let's go to the proper answer.

I've been asked: "how much of your life do you process through words?"

There is no easy way to say this, no way to avoid being honest here. The reality is that I put all of my life into this story. There might be a lot of differences in the events, but the feelings, all the traumas I talk about, things the characters say, think or do, all of that is mine. I could literally take pieces from all the chapters and give all of them deep explanations on how those are not just mine, but me. I am between the lines, hidden inside all the metaphors, stuck under the weight of the baddest chapters, trying to breathe after writing the most emotional ones.

I know it's a fanfiction. I know the story is not perfect, that there may be holes in the plot and the characters may seem badly shaped, rough, not real. I know, I am not a professional writer, I might make mistakes. This is no excuse, mind me, but not everything in life is coherent or logical as we often see in the media. We can spend hours or a lifetime creating the perfect story with everything perfectly crafted but that doesn't make it real, because incoherence is a huge part of the human experience. And that is what I want Sugar to be: human, not perfect. Realistic when it comes to emotions and relationships, not necessarily in its plot or events. I want it to be a trip into the deep abyss of an injured mind, trying to hold on with a broken heart, not three unicorns running to Candy Mountain. I want to break you into pieces and slowly help to put everything back together.

Look guys, I get it as much as I get that is not actually a story for everyone. You open it expecting another plot and I give you a bad time instead. You think it's something about a sugar babe and his daddy and I give you traumas and none of that. You come for the smut and I put old wounds and control needs over that too, also denying it for a whole half of the story. Truth is, I am a scammer. You come for a Good Omens fanfiction and I break the characters apart, twisting them to the point they might be the same to the very core, but nothing like it on the outside. You have to dive deep to find them.

My God, what am I even doing?

They asked me, "do you choose your words with care, don't you?"

Oh, dear Lord, I am so sorry because maybe people really think I plot all the metaphors, I think properly of all the dialogues, but what if I don't? Most of the time I don't, really. I just put my hands on the keyboard and let them free to go wherever they want. I type whole pages and emerge right after without having the faintest clue of what I wrote. I need to come back multiple times to check if I got what I wanted in the correct way. Hopefully, it does almost all the time. I know where I start and I know where I want to be in the end, the middle of it is pure instinct and emotions. I know how my characters would behave and play them like a TV show in my mind, while describing scenes on the screen.

( There might be some kind of light spoilers from now on. Mind how you go! )

I know I am using Crowley as the raw essence of a damaged mind and heart. He uses crude metaphors, always talks with anger and uses blood and storms in his speech, because he is instinct, he's a tide, he's greed personified and wants everything he could get cause he truly got nothing in his life. He is the passion who can't be contained, he uses art to process his emotions, he uses music to lose himself in something familiar, hoping someone else could help him find his way back home. He uses gardening to grow things because in his life nothing seems to last long. He can't look at tomorrow without fear, but grows things he hopes will last more than him. Life was not good with him, but he wasn't good with his life either. He did nothing, letting time pass without actually building anything, living the days as they come, drowning his pain in wine or between someone else's legs. He knows most of what he is, most of what he's done, is not healthy. But he never really cared before.

And then there is Aziraphale, which apparently is a walking red flag, traumas personified on two working legs, scared of everything hiding outside his door. He got everything. He has money, a big house, books, some people working with him, and is content. So content his heart yells and cries because he's lonely. So content he can't really control his whole life because he is his own antagonist. So content he's not really scared of what hides outside the door, because what's inside is worst. He uses the softest metaphors, he uses his books to tell stories and talk about himself, he can't really speak is mind and talks, talks, talks so much! He wins arguments because he drags his opponents into exhaustion. He talks them to death, using whole paragraphs of elegant, perfectly crafted phrases and quotes he can shield himself with. He's not like Crowley, just getting started on this new channel of communication, no, Aziraphale is well trained. He has thousands of books he can use to get where he wants and still use his experience poorly because he thinks people are just like the books and guess what? That's not true. People are something else.

It's actually funny how I just condensate two parts of me into two different characters.

Crowley holds my outside, and this is why you have his POV for the entire story. You see the world with his distorted, unreliable vision, you see raw desire to be accepted, the need to be truly seen by someone, big pieces of his mind, his dissociations, his fear, his low self esteem, the thousands of radios turned on in his mind, his incapability to let things truly go, is head full of canvases he never finish. And then you see his rage and you're not sure how much that will last. Yeah, that is me. Welcome to myself.

Aziraphale holds my inside. This is why we never get his POV. Too easy, too deep, too much. He is scared. He needs control. He wants and can't get. He hopes and does nothing. He's stuck in his home, with his books, and finds himself at ease there. He thinks he's safe but he's not. He's a living contradiction and at the same time he's not.

God, what was the question again?

Maybe I wrote too much. Maybe this is not enough. All I can say is that there's something really important in this story, and that is Crowley asking Aziraphale to "look at him", 'cause all he wants is to bee seen.

But in the end, what is happening here is you looking at me. And it's strange to get so naked in front of so many strangers. But it's also good and positive to me to be seen, for once.

So, thank you. Really, thank you. 'cause with every chapter you allow me to express myself in a way I never did in 30 years. Thank you so much.

[hexonthepeach]

you mentioned you've been reading ateez fics lately. i just got into that group and would love some atz fic recommendations if you have any you'd be willing to share!!

welcome to ateez! they're such a gift to me as one of the first 4th gen fandoms i dipped my toes in along with skz. their lore may seem complex but it's actually easier to absorb than most with the way they've kept a clear through line of anarchy and anti-establishment deconstruction of "traditional" values (the real was my first comeback lol).

i haven't been able to deep dive in a while due to life/writing but you're gonna have a great time, i cannot wait to hear who you bias they're all very special to me.

with ateez i attune to writers who give me specifically intriguing characterization (yunho ult, seonghwa, hongjoong, and wooyoung is my wrecker) and obviously i'm a fan of polyamory so these recs will be coded to that but know there's a wealth of good fic out there for everyone. if you find recs send them my way i will absolutely read and rec as i have very few people in my life to exchange with but my asks and dms are open

in no particular order but with obvious bias:

@honeyhotteoks - this night together (a/b/o) is a masterclass entry in kpop omegaverse poly and while it's ongoing i'd wait until judgment day patiently for an update. they weave in situational heat help with so many emotions and a natural response to turn to other members for a "safer" less personal experience while unpacking the difficulty of dynamics across multiple lines it's immersive and real and so, so, so good. they have an incredible oeuvre but they specifically write yunho so beautifully it's a gift i could never stop being thankful for. room for three (seonghwa/yunho established relationship with unicorn reader) is an all time fave but know summer series and the rest of their yunho ml is my bible as a fellow hotteok

@tenelkadjowrites - not just my favorite seonghwa writer but one of my favorite writers of all time, said after decades of fic reading/writing, many of them in the star wars universe (yes we're including my formative years here but i'm a they/them hag). a once in a lifetime kismet of finding someone who can create perfect little aus that absorb you and all feel distinctly different. could i pick a favorite of their work? never. but video girl (90s au with a perfect actual real to my own experience soundtrack) and especially attention (camboy seonghwa with inexperienced reader and a beautiful twist of self-discovery) rocked my world, along with wallflower (true to canon star wars nerd seonghwa office au) are their most recent but just sit back and enjoy their entire catalogue. it's like discovering an artist who you'll follow for their rest of your life (and that's true for everyone i'm reccing tonight)

@setsugekka - art hoe kim hongjoong lives and breathes so fully realized in their writing that i feel like an idiot trying to convey what it has done for my own. i have both paradise lost and atarashi sitting in drafts for long form reviews because of how deserved they are for full reads/reactions but i'll be clear i found their ateez and skz work (and as a minho bias i'll be going there as well) through the mona lisa that is déjà rêvé and déjà vu aka the quintessential dom!doyoung text that has informed my own writing. i really can't add more to that statement beyond them being an impetus for me writing rpf over the last 2 years including longform

@ncteez - philomene [hongjoong/reader - stoned inexperienced perfect perfect fic] - i absolutely love the dreaminess of this fic and it's comforting as someone who loves stoned sex irl and in writing, perfectly articulated and wrought. no more words this song played on repeat while reading i wish i could offer a playlist for how perfect this was but also i could not hold a candle to the entirety of how many of their nct fics have carried me through the last few years. color evasion (dom!johnny/inexperienced reader) lives with me daily but everything they write will be a must read for me, thank you for these gifts

@shadowynn - in love and lore is one of the reasons i started writing longform fic. it's a fantasy demon!ateez au with such an incredibly well-written backstory that even if it isn't finished there's so much there to enjoy and go back to. it's like a first novel and whatever i receive will be good but god, hongjoong and seonghwa with healer/half-demon reader . . . inspiration isn't even the word i could use to describe how well the set-up and pacing is at this point . . . same with the paradigm complex. winnie writes reverse harem with a clear understanding of how to thread multiple storylines and arcs together and i am continuously in awe by whatever i am given.

this was such a long answer but i am in my feelings and so grateful for the fic writers that have given me the courage to post. apologies for not being able to make this shorter and to anyone i tagged forced to read my ramblings i am legit so grateful for your contributions

[demystifiedstardust]

The Whale and the Dream

Pushing this forward in the queue because dreams are In™️.

Cw unreality

Way back in 1.1, Childe's whale made me remember a few long-dormant things from my childhood. I had a conversation with my partner around that time that went something like this:

Me: Did you get the whale dream, too? Partner: What whale dream? Me: (realizing that this was maybe not a standard, assumed childhood occurrence) You know, the whale dream? With the big whale? That shows up and swallows you and takes you crazy places underwater and in the sky?? Partner: (even more confused) No??

So that's the story of how I kinsidered Childe for a bit. But then the Fon//taine arc happened, and traveler being shown to tap into Childe's memories of it was a whiplash moment.

Unlike the seelies, there are physical differences between the whale as depicted by Gen//shin and the whale I remember. Mine was still very astral, but more whale-looking in terms of shape. Also, mine was more like a bus one would get unwittingly swallowed by in terms of function. Still, I can't believe I kind of got to fight my childhood deep-water night-sky whale... in the same game as the rest of these whiplash moments, no less.

I guess in the interest of future Gen//shin updates and whatever reality-questioning bullshit they contain, here's the other important beats from those whale dreams (and yes, you better believe Scylla gave me one hell of a jumpscare as well. If Gen//shin pulls out a third whale, I swear...).

I remember a library that was very narrow and hallway-like, but infinitely tall. I could not see the top; the shelves started to fade out of reality as they got very tall. There were tall ladders here and there, and the taller parts would come into focus if you got close enough in height (I never went too far though, because I didn't want to lose sight of the ground). The floor was very dark, like some kind of extremely dark-purple-green-marbled hardwood, and the cabinets themselves were more dark reddish like purple heart wood. The books themselves were leather-bound and in all sorts of colors.

At the end of the long library hallway was a very tall window with a rounded triangular fan shape at its top, through which you could see galaxies. There was also a small desk and a bird in a golden cage. The bird spoke and had clipped wings. It would warn you that it was dangerous and that you should leave. If you didn't heed the warnings and got close to the window, that's when the whale would spot you and suck you in.

Other than being trapped for the duration of the ride, being inside the whale wasn't much of an issue. It was largely transparent looking from inside, so you could see where you were going. It would travel through the stars and the skies and the seas indiscriminately as though randomly phasing through different spots in spacetime. It would thankfully always spit me out close to land, however... the journey itself gave a sense of foreboding, like I shouldn't have been there.

The most haunting moment was traveling across a rainbow bridge in the sky, as meteors rained down from above. The whale itself was incorporeal, and I knew that I was safe inside. However, the world below was most certainly experiencing an apocalypse in every sense of the world. Raging fire, continuous meteor impacts, dramatic fissures. I recall a determined unicorn-pegasus-like thing diving down past us, and I understood that there was a war down there, and that everyone on that world was destined to die either fighting or attempting to avert the disaster.

(That made me a somber child for a while irl...)

If this sounds like any myths you know, modern or ancient, could you please send them my way? I never had a mythology phase, but typing this out made me think there may be some parallels out there with existing myths.

Also, Gen//shin please don't do this. Please. If this whale-as-an-ark-over-a-doomed-world showed up in-game, I think it would actually break me.

Illustrations available upon request, but only privately. I'm not ready to blast them over the internet yet.

[little-mane-six]

Litte mane six - Cutie mark hunting part 1- The tree fort

It was a bright and sunny day in Ponyville and currently a small white pegasus with a short gray mane and tail was standing on a cloud high above the town. The young filly grinned as she pulled a pair of goggles over her deep blue eyes. "Ok so if I jump and flap my wings as hard as I can while in a nose dive. I should be able to go fast enough to do the legendary rainboom!" The filly exclaimed to herself in excitement.

The young pegasus pranced in place as she stretched her wings in preparation for her big moment. "Cutie mark here I come!" The filly shouted before diving off the cloud. She flapped her wings to speed up her descent towards the town below. When she reached almost half way she folded her wings and let gravity do the work. After a few minutes the buildings started getting closer. She grinned in excitement although it was hard to tell since the wind pulled on her lips. Then suddenly a rainbow blur came out of nowhere and grabbed the falling pegasus.

The young filly blinks a few times in surprise when she was grabbed from her dive. She was now in the outstretched hooves of Rainbow Dash. The element of loyalty and young wonderbolt made a lap around Ponyville before landing in a field right outside town. She gently set the young pegasus down first before touching down and pulling up her own set of goggles. The white coated filly did the same. "Cumulus do you have any idea how dangerous that was?! I mean it was an awesome dive but you could've been hurt kiddo." Rainbow Dash said as she ruffled Cumulus Drop's mane. "I was gonna pull up before I hit anything." Cumulus said rather sheepishly for a pony.

"What exactly were you trying to do anyways?" Rainbow Dash asked deciding to get to the heart of the matter. "I was trying to perform a rainboom so I could have a cutie mark for something cool." Cumulus admitted feeling a little embarrassed. "Don't sweat it kiddo, your cutie mark will come when it does. You can't force it. Maybe next time just try something that doesn't put you in danger." Rainbow said she ruffles Cumulus's mane again before flying off. Cumulus watched her fly off before letting out a small huff and heading back into town.

While walking home to try and think of something new to try Cumulus heard a voice that made her ear twitch slightly. "Cumulus! Hey! Over here!" A yellow earth pony with a curly purple mane and tail called out waving her friend over to an outdoor table at a restaurant. Cumulus flew over and landed in an empty chair. "Hey Ribbon. Hey everypony." Cumulus said as a unicorn waiter came over and placed five kid's menus on the table. He did a quick head count and used his magic to teleport a sixth menu over to the table. "I'll give you a few minutes to decide, can I start you six on some drinks while you wait. "I'll have a cherry soda." Cumulus Drop said "Orange for me please." Meadow Wind the brown pegasus said. "I'll have Lemonade please." Macoun Apple said "I'll have some Forest Mist pop." Ribbon Runner said seeing they had it on the menu. "I'll have a blue raspberry lemonade please." Pearl Shine said after a moment of thought. "I'll have a grape soda." Rose Star said after thinking about it for a minute. The waiter jotted down the drink order and trotted back inside.

"What happened with you girls?" Cumulus Drop asked. "I was trying to see if my talent lays in something to do with birds and Fluttershy stopped my and said I could be disturbing the birds which could hurt them." Meadow Wind said she sounded disappointed as she started looking at the menu. "I tried to plan a party for a friend but Pinkie Pie butted in and took over when she found out." Ribbon Runner said she knew Pinkie didn't mean any harm by it but it was still a little upsetting to have something she spent a few days planning be taken over by a self quoted professional. She started browsing the menu.

"I tried to help my cousin Applejack plow the field along with Big Macintosh and they told me I was still too little." Macoun Apple said she was still a little upset as she also looked over the menu. "I wanted to see if my special talent was in painting but Rarity saw my painting since I was painting in the town's square and stepped away for a moment and painted over my painting of the fountain and gave it to Mayor Mare to hang in the town hall." Pearl Shine said she some paint still on her hooves, she took a napkin and started working on wiping it off before looking at the menu. She hummed a little bit as she looked. She was upset even though Rarity didn't know it was her painting.

"I tried to borrow a book on spell creation from the castle library but Princess Twilight said that spell creation was way too advance for me and tried to give me multiple books on super basic spell casting meant for really young unicorns." The last pony at the table, Rose Star, said as browsed her own menu. Cumulus Drop explained what happened for her as she browsed her menu as well. The other fillies were Meadow Wind, (the brown pegasus), Macoun Apple, (the cream colored earth pony), Ribbon Runner, (the blonde earth pony), Pearl Shine, (the pink unicorn), and Rose Star (the blue unicorn). (This is just to clarify who's who).

"Well I think we need our own private base to come up with ideas in how to get our cutiemarks like the cutiemark crusaders do." Cumulus Drop slamming her hooves on the table. "There's an old tree fort in the tree behind my house we could use." Pearl Shine said offering a suggestion. "That's perfect!" Cumulus Drop exclaimed, her wings fluttered slightly in excitement. That's when their waiter reappeared carrying their drinks. He set each glass in front of the corresponding pony. The colors of the drinks made a little rainbow. The waiter then made the tray disappear and levitated a notepad and pen from his apron. He flipped the pad open and clicked the pen. "And what can I get you girls today?" The waiter asked with a smile.

"I'll have a hay burger and fries please." Cumulus Drop said looking over her menu. "I'll have some fried oats and hay strips." Meadow Wind said looking at the menu one more time. "Can I have a grilled cheese sandwich please?" Pearl Shine asked deciding to order something simple. "Would you like a side of soup or fries?" The waiter asked as he jots down the order. "Fries please." Pearl Shine said. "I'll have a cheese hayburger." Macoun Apple said setting her menu down. "I'll have a small grilled oats salad please." Rose Star said deciding to order something simple. Ribbon Runner hummed as she browsed the menu. "I'll have the bean and cheese quesadilla." Ribbon Runner said deciding on a very simple order. "Ok. I'll have that right out." The waiter said he finished writing the order and collected the menus and replaced them with coloring sheets and crayons for them.

The girls were a little annoyed at being treated like kids, even though they are, and reluctantly started coloring the sheets they were given while sipping their drinks. Cumulus Drop got a picture of the Wonderbolts, Meadow Wind got flowers, Macoun Apple got a farm, not Sweet Apple Acres just a plain old generic farm, Ribbon Runner got balloons, Pearl Shine got a treasure chest, and Rose Star got a magic show scene to color. After a little while they finished neatly coloring the sheets they were given, they had to swap crayons a few times, just as their food was served. The waiter collected the sheets and crayons and smiled. "Ok, enjoy your meal." The waiter said. "Thank you." The girls said in unison as the waiter left. The fillies immediately dug into their lunch.

Soon enough the check came as they finished their food and drinks. The waiter handed over the check and didn't really question the girls not having an adult chaperone since he used to young fillies and colts coming in and eating alone or with friends. The girls took out some bits and paid the fifteen bit bill and actually left the waiter a six bit tip. The girls get up from the table and slowly stretch a little bit and make their way to Pearl Shine's house.

The group soon arrive and head into the backyard and look up at the run down tree fort sitting in the tree behind the house. They weren't even sure where to start with this when the sliding back door opened and Pearl Shine's dad stepped outside. The large burly unicorn had a light purple coat and white mane and tail. He shared Pearl Shine's pale blue eyes and his cutiemark was a cart full of jewels and gems signifying that gem collecting is his special talent. "Well howdy there girls what're y'all looking at?" Mr. Shine asked making his way over to his daughter and friends. "Hi dad, you're home early." Pearl Shine said she was surprised. Pearl Shine got her pale purple mane from her dad's coat.

"Oh yeah there was a cave in at the mines. Thankfully nopony was hurt but the mine's closed till further notice." Mr. Shine said he noticed the girls were looking at the old tree fort. "Mr. Shine can we fix up and use your tree fort please?" Cumulus Drop asked. "I don't see why not. I'll call some buddies and we'll get it fixed up." Mr. Shine said giving a smile and a nod. The group of fillies looked at each other and figured this was better left to the adults since they know what they're doing and the girls could get hurt if they tried messing with power tools. Mr. Shine went back inside to make a few phone calls as the girls ran around the yard for a while.

A few days and some minor construction later the tree fort was complete. "Thanks Mr. Shine/dad and friends." The girls said seeing the newly fixed tree fort. "You're welcome girls." Mr. Shine said as his friends gave nods. They gathered up their equipment and left. The six fillies climbed up the ladder steps on the tree and pushed open the trap door in the floor and smiled as the looked at the fort. It was basically an open box with a small porch and canvas roof that had pink blue and yellow stripes. There was a hidden door leading to the porch. "Looks like we've found our new base." Cumulus Drop said. "Yeah!" The others exclaimed they proceeded to do a six way high five in excitement.

[sirjuggles]

Worm Reading - Arc 8 Extermination

I finally gave in and simplified my naming convention.

So pretty much this whole Arc is the Leviathan fight, which is absolutely riveting, but in theory I’ll have less commentary here. (Hah we’ll see) I wrote up some of my thoughts in response to an ask about Leviathan a day or two ago, so some of that will get repeated here.

My first time ever hearing about Worm was years ago through an entry on the TVTropes "Godzilla Threshold" page, which talks about a threat of sufficient magnitude to justify putting aside all other priorities and disputes in order to address. I am a sucker for this trope/concept, there is something captivating in the way it allows for otherwise unredeemable characters to show a level of humanity and virtue that forces you to consider them as deep, complex characters. There’s a bit in the novel Good Omens where the angelic character thinks about what humans are capable of, and he has the thought “...And just when you'd think they were more malignant than ever Hell could be, they could occasionally show more grace than Heaven ever dreamed of. Often the same individual was involved.” And the older I get the more I see that.

From what I recall, through this entire confrontation with Leviathan, Coil never shows up. He has a ton of resources in manpower and supplies, and while we don’t get a close look at the evacuation/shelter effort we see no indication that he is contributing any of the things he could to support. I’m very curious if this will ever be addressed in-text, because I think it’s very telling of this man who claims he wants to take over and run this city yet who won’t lift a finger to help others in a crisis. From what we later learn about how his power works, I would be very curious to hear what two timelines he had running during the Leviathan attack.

As the capes group up and try to rally before facing the endbringer, we get a dump of a TON of new names and faces. Some very cool characters here, can’t wait to get caught up on this so I can dive into all the fanart of these capes that I’m sure is out there.

Shoutout to Narwhal for clearly being Unicorn-coded and choosing to not make that her name/identity. You know there’s gotta be a story behind that and I love it.

I find it interesting how Taylor kinda fixates on Eidolon for a minute here. She thinks of him as being among the “big 5″, the capes who you have to rule out when discussing power levels because no one else compares. Except the of the five she lists, I have my doubts about the humanity of four! The endbringers make up three, and even before we get Lisa’s interlude to learn that Leviathan was never human they are all basically treated as forces of nature; these monstrous beings who exist in this perpetual cycle of destruction and hibernation. The other one is Scion, who appeared decades ago as this sort of beatific figure, almost messianic, who appears to neither speak nor rest. Scion strikes me as very inhuman, the way he just appeared fully-formed and interacts with the world with a single purpose. He also chose the name “Scion” for himself, which does imply that he is the descendant of offspring of something else even if the world doesn’t have any idea of what that refers to (huge question mark there). So we have these four basically supernatural entities... and then we have Eidolon, who is implied to be just another cape who was a regular dude and then got powers. Legend is the big #1 superhero in America supposedly, but this guy Eidolon is ranked above him on the hero ranking equivalent of the “banned from tournament play” list. What is his deal???

The armbands are a super cool idea and absolutely necessary. In such a chaotic, fast-moving battle as this is about to be, with so many participants involved, battlefield communication is absolutely essential. Without some form of coordination this would be a completely hopeless fight.

As the capes split up by group, we see a point I made before come up: Skitter is not a heavy-hitter, and she has no particular mobility or defensive abilities. In combat against a single powerful foe, she has basically no ability to help or defend herself. Later on as she is running around the battlefield basically trying to give basic first-aid to downed heroes, I can’t help but think that it would be more effective to have a few teams of EMTs out here. I understand why the paradigm is “capes fight endbringers,” but in this situation Skitter is basically no different from a civilian. She does end up managing to do some basic location tracking of Leviathan through getting some bugs on him, which is helpful, but I’d argue her presence on the battlefield is of equivalent usefulness to any trained first-responder. Which raises the question of either why is she there, and why are they not?

Interlude 8a: Lisa - This is something I’ve been hoping to get for a while, a better glimpse into how Lisa’s power works! Interesting to see the limitations involved, as well as how she truly was just living on the street and basically running fancy pickpocket scams before Coil picked her up. Absolutely love the moment when she’s casing her target and figuring out where he keeps his wallet, and then her power continues just a little bit farther: “Wallet in left jacket pocket; intended to help mask presence of gun holstered at left hip.” And she immediately just NOPES right out of there. Or tries to.

During this interlude we get to see Lisa use her power on Leviathan, which gives us a tiny piece of info that I think may end up being crucial. I actually have a theory based on this, and the entire time I was reading this arc I was waiting for my theory to come true. It never did here, but I still hold some hope. When using her power on Leviathan, Lisa gets the following pieces of info: “Nonstandard nervous system... No brain... Irregular biology... Not human, never was human.” Back when Brian saw Taylor controlling a crab on the beach, she explained that her understanding of what she could or couldn’t control was “I think all it takes is that they have to have very simple brains.” With enough focus and growth and effort, could Taylor control an endbringer? I know that is a very huge leap, and frankly probably too convenient to be true, but there’s a chance that the pieces could line up.

This whole fight is fully of crazy intense moments. A personal standout for me is seeing Bastion trap Leviathan in the collapsing building with himself and yelling at the other heroes to bring the building down on both of them. I’m a massive sucker for a heroic sacrifice and that’s a great one.

Also cool to see Ms. Militia using the leftover explosives from Bakuda against Leviathan. Shame Bakuda was like she was, just think of how helpful her inventions could have been in this situation.

The freeze by Clockblocker is so critical in this fight. If he hadn’t given the capes a chance to pause and regroup that battle would have continued to wear all of them down. It feels like with the huge amount of power and utility all these capes have they should be able to do more damage to the endbringer, but he’s just so fast and slippery that they can’t seem to hold him down in one place long enough to bring those powers to bear.

The fight between Leviathan and Armsmaster is cool, but becomes more important in hindsight as we learn about how Armsmaster arranged it. We definitely get a clear picture of how arrogant and driven Armsmaster is here, he really does a supervillain-style monologue about how he’s beating Leviathan while he does it, only to have it backfire in his face.

I do feel like there’s something here that’s not quite clicking for me. After Armsmaster loses the fight and his arm, Taylor runs in to try and help him, and he repeatedly tells her “you’re dead, he killed you.” We later find out that he set up the whole group to be wiped out, but I’m not clear on why he thinks specifically Taylor was killed? We learn that the armband reported her dead because the armband broke, but Armsmaster was the one who caused it to break so he knew that wasn’t the truth. Maybe he saw one of her swarms get swiped out and thought it was her, or he just assumed everyone had been killed and he’s currently in shock from his injuries? Either way, I don’t see a direct reason why he he would have been convinced enough of her being dead to remark on the subject while he’s badly wounded.

I do find it a little bit amusing how much joy Wildbow clearly takes in describing superheroes and their costumes. It makes sense, given they decided to tell a story that features so many of them, but you can just feel a little bit of the enjoyment of the author every time they pause for a moment to describe new capes, their costume designs and colors and identities. And I’m very much not saying this is a bad thing! It really fleshes out all this huge cast of characters and makes it clear that everyone has their individual identities, such as the ways that a family of flying blasters like Lady Photon and Laserdream set themselves apart. It’s endearing.

The scene with Rachel and her dogs coming to the rescue is heartbreaking. I knew they were gonna take losses eventually, and I knew it was gonna punch me in the gut. Honestly this is a lot better than it could have been, they dive in at a crucial moment against an impossible opponent and buy enough time for Scion to show up, so it feels like a worthwhile sacrifice, but it still sucks. The fact that Rachel jumped in here  and sacrificed her dogs to save Taylor says to me that they really had formed a connection, even if Rachel wouldn’t admit it, and also explains why Rachel is so vicious with the perceived betrayal to come.

Seeing Scion fight Leviathan just reinforces my idea that neither of these figures are standard parahumans/capes. I think the both of them are roughly on an equal level, some sort of outside entities which happen to be wrapped up in a struggle on earth.

Honestly, for me the scariest and most tense part of this entire arc is the time Taylor spends handcuffed to the hospital bed. Fighting Leviathan is dangerous and exciting, but this whole idea of lying there in pain, partially paralyzed, restrained, unsure of whether her friends survived, and fearing that the nominal “good guys” are going to use this opportunity to eliminate her and there’s nothing she can do about it? Horrifying. Total grounds for a panic attack.

Ok, a few big things happen in quick succession here, so some of these notes are a little out-of-order.

I’m a little unclear about how the whole hospital scene went so bad. I understand from an administrative perspective why the nursing staff aren’t allowed to talk to patients here, and that they’re swamped and trying to do triage. And when I think about it, it does make sense to restrain capes to avoid anyone from walking around and causing exactly the situation Skitter causes with Sophia. But none of that is communicated to anyone! This is not the first time this has happened, you’d think they’d have some sort of protocol for communicating “we’re going to give you what care we can, we can’t have you walking around, please be patient.” Instead they take all these capes with various levels of power and ingenuity and paranoia and handcuff them and keep them in the dark. Of course you’re going to have someone freak out and try to escape! And yeah Panacea made things worse by trying to spook Skitter, but once again this could have been avoided if they had just made clear what the protocol was up front.

On that same note, I don’t totally understand why the Protectorate wanted Panacea to come heal Skitter before they come talk to her in-person. Later they say they were going to offer her a place on the Wards. Are they giving that same offer to every single young villain? Legend and the heroes he has with him are huge names, presumably there is a lot of work for them to do in the wake of this disaster, this feels like a weird thing for them to all be doing personally. I just don’t understand what was supposed to happen here before Skitter tried to run and caused the standoff.

Honestly props to Tattletale for handling that, if she hadn’t been there Skitter would have been absolutely screwed. I very much understand why she refused to join the Wards or give an identity trade to Sophia, but that basically left her only option as going to the Birdcage, so...

Oh man the Sophia reveal got me. Honestly in hindsight it makes sense, everything we’ve heard about Sophia and Shadow Stalker totally lines up. Super messed up, but it adds an extra layer of explanation to all of the resistance from the school to applying any serious punishment to the bullies. I kinda avoided making any predictions about people Taylor knew in civilian life secretly being capes, I figured it would be too much of a coincidence, but this one works. It also gives some context for why Emma flipped on her so hard, which is something I’ve been wondering about for a long time. Not that it justifies it, but it’s some sort of explanation which we’ve been missing.

The ending of the hospital scene felt a little weird to me. The heroes are so freaked out by the potential for a villain to have uncovered the secret identity of one of their Wards, fair enough. But then they find out that Armsmaster secretly did some sketchy stuff and they all get distracted by him, ok that makes sense. But they’re so distracted that they let the villain just... run out the front door? There’s no Protectorate member there who feels like they should maybe grab her and get this resolved? I know Tattletale was trying to convince them to let Skitter go, but I didn’t get the sense that they were ok with that yet. Also Taylor is crushed by having her secret come out, so she just... runs out into the night? Felt like a weird note for everyone to leave off on.

On the other hand, the scene at the memorial is nice. It’s good to see the doggos on there, they deserve to be there too dammit.

I gotta say, I am very glad that I’m reading this after it’s all written. I can imagine hitting some of these cliffhangers and having to wait for the next installment would be torture. I am curious as to how significant the difference in reading experience is by being able to read it all back-to-back. I know for a fact that the extra time to think and process installments between releases does change the way the reader processes the story. I especially noticed this with the upcoming Wards interlude Arc, that felt like a very nice way to space out the “books”.

Gonna end this here. The Coil interlude had some interesting moments I might touch on, but I am really excited to talk about the Wards Interlude Arc, I have strong feelings about basically every installment of that arc so that might need to break up into multiple posts.

[monetizeme]

6 months ago, I left the bullshit industrial complex

by Joan Westenberg

I used to be good at spinning stories. Give me a half-baked startup idea, a semi-charismatic founder and a fistful of VC dollars, and I could write a story compelling enough it barely mattered whether there was an ounce of truth in it.

I was running a profitable tech PR agency. It looked impressive enough on LinkedIn. It paid for fancy dinners and weekend getaways. I had the clients, the connections, and a couple of shiny awards gathering dust on my bookshelf. My phone buzzed constantly.

But something was starting to unravel.

Like a loose thread on a comfortable sweater. You know you shouldn't pull on it, but you can't help yourself.

A nagging doubt. An odd moment of "Jesus, what the hell am I doing?"

I would lie awake at 3 AM, staring at the ceiling. My life was slipping away, and I had nothing to show for it but a series of cynical half truths paid for by shit shovelling wannabe billionaires hell bent on leaving the world worse off than they found it. I knew I was a part of something poisonous. It had been years since I'd displayed a shred of journalistic integrity.

The thread kept unraveling.

One morning, I sat down at my desk to craft yet another press release touting yet another "game-changing" startup that had raised - yet another - $25 million. And I realized I couldn't remember the last time I'd written something I believed in. The words that used to flow felt like trying to squeeze ancient toothpaste from an empty tube.

That was the day I cracked.

It wasn't about the individual startups or the overhyped products. It was the whole damn ecosystem—if we can call it that. The inflated valuations, cult-like frat house “culture,” and the relentless, mindless pursuit of growth that comfortably glossed over the human cost of "disruption."

Somewhere along the way, I'd allowed my writing—the thing that used to give me purpose—to be co-opted by the bullshit industrial complex. I'd convinced myself that I was part of something bigger, something world-changing. But deep down, in the quiet moments between pitch meetings and product launches, I knew better.

It was a slow-building wave, gathering momentum with every story I was hired to spin, every tone-deaf founder I media-trained to sidestep hard questions, every time I was asked to massage the numbers and make a struggling startup look like a unicorn in waiting.

Going back to my roots as a writer felt like coming up for air after a long, deep dive in a river of shit. The first few months were disorienting as hell. It's tough adjusting to life outside the echo chamber. I've had to relearn how to write without an agenda, how to ask questions without anticipating the "right" answers, how to look at the tech industry with clear eyes.

There are days when I question my decision—when I gather up the courage to look at my dwindling bank account, for example. Tech has a way of tempting you back, whispering sweet nothings about stock options and catered lunches.

Well-meaning friends in the industry have texted, called, emailed. They've told me that I'm burning bridges, that a critical stance will make me unemployable in tech circles. They've advised me to soften my tone, to find a middle ground that won't alienate potential future employers or clients.

I get it. I do. In an industry built on network effects, taking a stand can feel like career suicide. The pressure to conform, to go along with the prevailing narrative, is immense. Trust me, I know.

But then I sit down to write, and I remember why the fuck I'm doing this. I write about the human cost of gig economy apps that treat workers as disposable resources. I write about the venture capital industry that repeatedly and stubbornly fails to invest in anyone who doesn't look like Mark Zuckerberg's clone.

I can't go back to writing comforting VC pandering fictions. I won't do it, no matter how many zeroes are dangled in front of me.

This isn't to say that I've become an anti-tech fanatic, railing against all notions of progress. Technology has potential when it's guided by ethical considerations and a genuine desire to improve the human condition. I've spent the last 6 months interviewing founders who are building companies without following the VC playbook, without setting fire to the world around them.

But I have zero faith in the idea that unfettered vulture capitalism and a blind pursuit of "disruption" will lead us to a better world.

I've seen how perverse incentives and boiler room pressure to deliver exponential growth can warp even the most idealistic founders' vision. I've watched brilliant minds get sucked into the vortex of funding rounds and vanity metrics, losing sight of why they started their companies in the first place.

I'm reminded of a quote attributed to Upton Sinclair: "It is difficult to get a man to understand something when his salary depends upon his not understanding it." For years, my salary—and my sense of self-worth—depended on not understanding the deeper implications of my work. I can't keep faking blameless ignorance.

I don't know where this will lead me. The tech industry has a long memory.

So it goes.

At least I have my integrity. The machine may grind on, but I'm glad to have stepped off the treadmill.

Howard Zinn said: "You can't be neutral on a moving train." Tech is an out-of-control locomotive with no fucking brakes, and I've chosen where I stand. It may not be a comfortable or lucrative position, but it's one I can live with.

And for the first time in years, when I look in the mirror, I can recognize the person looking back. That's worth all the stock options in the world.

[drewandareview]

My Top Ten Favorite YouTube Channels

Originally published July 23rd, 2013

Sometimes I feel inadequate because I don’t have any “underground interests".  But other times, I realize I definitely have underground interests.  I’d say my most solid proof of this is my devotion to Internet entertainment.  I don’t know of many people who take it quite as seriously as I do, and I have as much passion for watching it as I do making it.

So to shed a little bit of my “hip side" unto you, here are my top 10 favorite YouTube channels with brief descriptions of why I picked them.  (Disclaimer: I have the right to include my own channels if I want to.  But I’m not going to.)

10. nigahiga   I actually started out on YouTube before the thing was even two years old.  At the time, I viewed it as a place for amateur auteurs.  Where one person can make everything herself.  I thought that was fascinating, and that’s largely the kind of content you would find on YouTube at the time (2007).  But, as with all good ideas, YouTube expanded and grew business-oriented. I have no resentment toward this because I understand it.  I’m jumping onto that boat myself.

But I still have deep veneration for the people who truly do everything themselves, and for that, I have to include Ryan Higa on the list, the man behind nigahiga.  He’s been doing this YouTube thing for even longer than I have and while he’s seen much success and popularity, he still has that old-school “YouTube touch" where he does everything himself.  In addition to some clever yet juvenile comedy, you can watch the progression of a person refining his craft.  It’s a fun ride.

9. vlogbrothers The premise is simple: Two brothers send vlogs to each other, one vlog from each brother for a total of two vlogs a week.  And my are their brains something to be admired.  They’re very honest with who they are and what they feel and even in the face of their popularity, they’re more committed to cultivating artistic growth and promoting identity than doing things for money or fame.  It’s admirable to see two vloggers not only with compelling chemistry, but also an earnest love for who they are as people.

8. SecretAgentBob He’s more popularly known as FilmCow, and even more popularly known as “the guy that made Charlie the Unicorn".  His animation is crude and unpleasant, even more so than South Park, but the complete dive into maddening, aimless comedy is a breath of fresh air in a sea of videos with poor aim.  Jason Steele and his team of loyal friends are a truly funny bunch whose effort to making no-shits-given content is as satisfying as it is needed.

7. CGPGrey Not everything popular on YouTube is comedy.  What’s particularly refreshing is to see a surge of interest in channels revolving around education.  By far my favorite of these channels is CGPGrey.  It’s one guy making animated slideshows that illustrate a point of interest.  He seems like “just a normal guy", but the level of research and detail he exerts just to make sure he doles out the right information shows not only a propensity for knowledge, but a respect for those learning from him.  His videos are as amusing as they are beneficial and for someone you never see in person, his presence as a teacher is something remarkable.

6. sxephil Most newscasts are boring.  It’s industry standard to read the news without attachment or much personality.  Which is why Phillip DeFranco is really something unique.  He’ll tell you the news, but only the news he cares about and in the way he wants to.  This could be an annoying trip were he an annoying person, but Phillip DeFranco has an enrapturing view of the world accompanied and a blunt sense of humor that collectively, you just can’t help but dig.  Hopefully his shtick might inspire a wave of more subjective newscasters so those looking to get the scoop can have some variety as well as some personality.

5. StarKidPotter Meet Team Starkid, a contemporary theater troupe of cult status yet all the talent deserving of full-throttle stardom.  While the members of the troupe rotate, each one brings to its productions the finesse of an adult paired with the unadulterated imagination of a kid.  Their videos mainly consist of recorded footage of live shows and while low on budget, they’re written with great humor and sincerity.  The music always soars, the performances always dazzle, and the theatrics of Team Starkid always vibrate with vibrancy.

4. MW10T It’s hard to really place what Mike Peterson is all about.  A low-end member of the film business, Man With 10 Toes really shines with his overt nonsensicality that he heavily breathes into anything he creates.  His greatest attribute is his shameless disconnection from inhibition and embracement of his wholly bizarre mein.  No matter how effortless his work, it’s always labeled with the undeniably engaging mark of his strangeness.  Manwith10toes is the fucked-up fruit on the tree that tastes absolutely amazing.

3. titleofshow It’s not a very active channel anymore and certainly not something a modern YouTuber would gawk over.  It’s the home to “the [title of show] show", a documentation of the process it took to get the musical [title of show] onto Broadway.  The concept is already rich as Broadway is a place with many secrets and any look into its process is worth the time.  But these four friends are wonderful, chromatic people to take this journey with.  Each has a distinct personality, but they all emanate with an honest passion for what they do and an authentic appreciation for their audience.  It doesn’t hurt that the show they’re trying to put on is one of the greatest shows I’ve seen.  It’s a fantastic series: Informative, funny, and even a touching reminder of the great things that can happen when you follow your dreams.

2. BriTANickdotcom BriTANick is sketch comedy at its absolute finest.  Comprised of duo Brian and Nick, their videos exude everything the perfect sketch could have.  They’re inventive, well-paced, unexpectedly well-acted, and culminate into a perfect laugh batch that no fan of comedy should miss.  Their only agenda is to bring out the best in humor.  They’ve had some misses, but when they hit, they hit to sink.

1. 5secondfilms It’s a delight to see so many people (to the point where you lose count) all coming together to make something that on the surface seems pretty trivial.  5 Second Films are exactly what you think: People that make films that are five seconds.  And after nearly five years of uploading five videos a week, they haven’t missed a beat.  5 Second Films gives you the best way to waste your time while simultaneously showing just what kind of gold you can strike when you don’t waste a second.  Relentlessly bold and ostensibly gifted, 5 Second Films delivers short content with a long reach.

The Internet is only a medium.  But it’s a medium that’s brought forth enriching content that I hardly see in any other medium.  When you do things for the Internet, you’re taken much less seriously than when you do things for television or the big screen.  But the Internet, despite being largely embraced by the world, still manages to be one of the best-kept secrets when it comes to entertainment.  While I certainly hope this doesn’t last forever, I’ll embrace the hippness that comes with beaming over something so in the dark.

[evilbeepthemeep]

I posted 9,304 times in 2022

163 posts created (2%)

9,141 posts reblogged (98%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@agentduckorico

@sandal-shuriken-no-jutsu

@eroticcannibal

@ratsetflummi

@dappercyborg

I tagged 203 of my posts in 2022

#killing stalking - 15 posts

#eurovision - 14 posts

#mystic messenger - 6 posts

#cat - 3 posts

#unreality - 3 posts

#bum - 2 posts

#dikadoll jean - 2 posts

#dikadoll - 2 posts

#ball jointed doll - 2 posts

#soup - 2 posts

Longest Tag: 127 characters

#though to be fair we were the weird ones since i had a massive unicorn balloon that made us friends and i let people feel me up

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

So currently I'm stuck in bed sick and unable to do much. I've had to pay out to get paracetamol and food which gets expensive.

Since I'm on universal credit I don't have a lot of money so if you can, please send some money via my PayPal which is hawkgay@outlook.com

66 notes - Posted April 7, 2022

#4

Kiwifarms is dying, reblog to make it die faster

73 notes - Posted August 25, 2022

#3

I swear down the people who shit on mogai/aces/aros/pans etc because they used to identify as one of them but came out as lesbian/gay/binary trans just can't admit they were wrong.

they'd much rather throw a bunch of minorities under the bus than say they were wrong about who they are.

like somehow it's our fault they thought they were ace cause we "tricked" them into it when actually we just gave out resources.

it's okay to be wrong sometimes, I thought I was a lesbian but no I was ace, NB and pan. I don't blame lesbians for that, it's just the language I had for myself at the time.

being wrong is apart of growing and admitting it is so much healthier than sending death threats to people who's identity you don't like.

77 notes - Posted December 6, 2022

#2

race is abt how ppl see u. when most ppl look at u, u look white. they cannot see into ur mom’s mixed genes before they decide whether or not to discriminate against u. there’s nothing wrong with being white. u can be white and celebrate ur mother’s heritage

First of all that's called white passing privilege which to be fair I do have to a certain degree. Like the other women at the domestic violence shelter my mum was in when she left me dad did say she was lucky we could pass but still doesn't erase the fact we weren't white

Second of all I have faced racism due to me and my family being mixed race. Details about my mother's upbringing were called stories by social workers and even an outfit worn by my grandmother on her 50th wedding anniversary was called a costume. I was literally taken from my mum and given to my abusive dad because she raised me in a very not white way

Third of all I've been an outcast my entire life due to not looking like my white peers. Hell I don't even fit into my dad's side of the family because when I stand next to any of them it's very clear I'm not white.

I've been discriminated against due to my status as a mixed race person in a country that fucking hates anyone who isn't white or performs whiteness correctly.

It's not just genes that impact how people treat you, it's also how you are raised and the people around you. I'm still as much mixed race with my green eyes and pale skin as my sister who has dark brown eyes and tab skin.

But what else do I expect from a terf who thinks biology is immutable and gender isn't a social construct

148 notes - Posted February 22, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Narc Abuse And Why It's Bullshit

Long post ahead and tw for rape apology, homophobia, transphobia and ableism

I decided on a whim to do a deep dive on who coined the term Narc abuse and the ideology used in narcissistic abuse circles.

And oh boy I found some info.

The term Narcissistic abuse was first coined sometime in the 90’s by a guy named Sam Vaknin. Notable things about this dude is he’s a writer, a philosopher, a physicist and has npd. Oh apparently he might not even have NPD and is just spouting bullshit to get away with being an unrepentant asshole.

Fun fact he was arrested and jailed for committing securities fraud in 1996.

Here’s a link to his CV. 

notice anything? He holds no qualifications for psychology or psychiatry. 

And even has this fun disclaimer on his website

Which means he has no credentials to talk or teach about NPD. Or Abuse. Or Domestic Violence.

I have combed through this man’s website, interviews and his medium articles and found some truly terrible shit. 

He’s misogynistic

Jacobsen: You agree with First Wave Feminism and Second Wave Feminism, and disagree with Third Wave Feminism and Fourth Wave Feminism. What defines them?

Vaknin: First and second wave feminisms (in plural: there are many schools) were focused on leveling the playing field and fighting abusive and exploitative practices such as prostitution and pornography.

Starting with the suffragettes, they focused on the franchise (the right to vote), equal wages, access (to healthcare, education, the workplace, daycare), revising the dress code (“rational dress”), the right to own and dispose of property, and converting marriage from indentured bondage to an intimate, hopefully lifelong equal partnership.

The third wave was a psychopathic outgrowth. While claiming to be inclusive and permissive, it was a defiant and reckless attempt to “empower” women by eliminating all boundaries, conventions, and mores of any kind in all fields of life.

What women have garnered from the confluence of the three waves is that they should make their careers the pivot of their lives, avoid meaningful, committed relationships with men, and pursue sex as a pastime with any man.

Ironically, the third wave played right into the hands of predatory men (“players”) who took advantage of the newfangled promiscuity while assiduously avoiding any hint of commitment or investment. Third wave feminists internalized the male gaze (“internalized oppression”) and pride themselves on being “sluts”.

The fourth wave of feminism is focused on real problems such as sexual harassment, rape, and body shaming as well as intersectionality (discrimination of women who belong to more than one minority). In many ways, it is an offshoot of second wave feminism.

Quote taken from Prof. Vaknin on Misogyny and Misandry

Transphobic

Philosophically, there is little difference between a narcissist who seeks to avoid his True Self (and positively to become his False Self) – and a transsexual who seeks to discard his true gender. But this similarity, though superficially appealing, is questionable.

People sometimes seek sex reassignment because of advantages and opportunities which, they believe, are enjoyed by the other sex. This rather unrealistic (fantastic) view of the other is faintly narcissistic. It includes elements of idealised over-valuation, of self-preoccupation, and of objectification of one's self. It demonstrates a deficient ability to empathise and some grandiose sense of entitlement ("I deserve to be taken care of") and omnipotence ("I can be whatever I want to be – despite nature/God").

This feeling of entitlement is especially manifest in some gender dysphoric individuals who aggressively pursue hormonal or surgical treatment. They feel that it is their inalienable right to receive it on demand and without any strictures or restrictions. For instance, they oftentimes refuse to undergo psychological evaluation or treatment as a condition for the hormonal or surgical treatment.

It is interesting to note that both narcissism and gender dysphoria are early childhood phenomena. This could be explained by problematic Primary Objects, dysfunctional families, or a common genetic or biochemical problem. It is too early to say which. As yet, there isn't even an agreed typology of gender identity disorders – let alone an in-depth comprehension of their sources.

A radical view, proffered by Ray Blanchard, seems to indicate that pathological narcissism is more likely to be found among non-core, ego-dystonic, autogynephilic transsexulas and among heterosexual transvestites. It is less manifest in core, ego-syntonic, homosexual transsexuals.

Autogynephilic transsexuals are subject to an intense urge to become the opposite sex and, thus, to be rendered the sexual object of their own desire. In other words, they are so sexually attracted to themselves that they wish to become both lovers in the romantic equation - the male and the female. It is the fulfilment of the ultimate narcissistic fantasy with the False Self as a fetish ("narcissistic fetish").

Autogynephilic transsexuals start off as heterosexuals and end up as either bisexual or homosexual. By shifting his/her attentions to men, the male autogynephilic transsexual "proves" to himself that he has finally become a "true" and desirable woman.

Quote taken from Homosexual and Transsexual Narcissists Frequently Asked Questions # 18

Homophobic

See the full post

355 notes - Posted July 4, 2022

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[kidotm]

No Good Deed Goes Unpunished

   It was little wonder as to why Reilly’s Rangers didn’t have more recruits- you only had to be a complete fucking dumbass to qualify, and the wasteland happened to be chock full of them. The ghoul had been forced to follow the remaining survivors in order to get his paid due, and apparently, the mercenary company had never established any sort of route to home base that didn’t involve Talon, mutants, raiders-

  “Is it close?” Charon groused after they had emerged from a manhole cover, everyone sprinkled with bits of blood and bone after an unexpected run-in with a pack of feral ghouls.

   “It’s just through this courtyard,” their ‘second-in-command’ answered. 

   An explosive feud between all of the before-mentioned abominations (for the supreme title of Wasteland’s Biggest Pain-in-the-Ass) was already underway at Seward Square. The ghoul irritably sighed.

   "No."

   Refusing to waste more ammo, he returned to the alleyway and lit up a cigarette, simply partaking in listening to the sounds of guts flying through the air as he blew smoke from his nostrils. The small team joined him, the three huddling together whilst he kept to himself. Only when the courtyard grew quiet and just the cackling fires remained did they make their trek across, listening to the voice of…

   “THE SUN! IT BURNS! Why does it-!”

   Charon whipped his head in every direction for the invisible speaker. The mechanic shrugged his shoulders when he met his unbothered gaze. 

   “That’s the Preacher, or, it’s what we call him, anyway.”

   “BEWARE WORM, I SHALL DESTROY YOU-!”

   Charon removed his hand from his gun. “That is annoying.”

   “Yeah, tell us about it.”

   The compound was tucked away in a corner of the ruins. Charon was the last to be invited inside, having to stoop as he stepped through the hatch. The smoothskin from Underworld had beaten them to home base and received a warm reception at her miraculous recovery. She waded through the throng of handshakes with a smile so wide it should have split her face in half, and the camaraderie didn’t subside when it finally got to him waiting at the end of the hall. 

   She held out her hand for him to shake next. “I don’t know where you came from or what sort of God put you on this Earth, but I would have lost everything and everyone if it wasn’t for you. You sincerely have my thanks.”

   Charon looked down at the offer, not uncrossing his arms or relaxing his grimace. Instead, he raised a brow and flatly reminded her, “The list.”

   “I brought it. Donovan’s going to get you what you need. I don’t speak techy nerd crap, but if it exists, he’ll find it.” She kept her grin, undeterred by his rejection. “Or I’ll search the ruins for it myself.”

   He snorted before making his way past. “I will not save you this time.”

   Their mechanic disappeared inside their storage and munitions for a deep-dive of the parts, muttering sourly to himself and scowling as Winthrop apparently needed ‘next to unicorn farts’. Charon stood by in the briefing room, impatient and growing ever restless as the minutes ticked on. He did not like the time to pass any more than it had to.

   Reilly approached him with a hot meal and a cold beer. “Here. Least we can do.”

   He took it; he was hungry. 

   “Look, I know this is probably the last thing you wanted to talk about right now,” she hesitated, leaning against the table that paid homage to their maps, reports, and recruit dockets. She folded her arms, watching him scarf his food. “How would you be interested in joining our team?”

   Charon didn’t skip a beat between a breath and a bite. “I’m not.”

   “You made the rest of us look like we had our asses growing out of our ears.” She subverted her gaze. “I fucked up, and it nearly got everyone killed. You though…you’re something else. This team could use that.”

   The emptied bowl was set on the table. “I am already employed.”

   “We’ll double it.”

   He shook his head. 

   “Triple.”

   He grew annoyed with the persistence and growled, “No.”

   The medic walked in the room, sensing the tense atmosphere. “Reilly, I think we should talk.” He then consulted Charon. “If you don’t mind me interrupting.”

   When Charon didn’t say anything the pink smoothskin went to follow her second-in-command. She threw Charon a look over her shoulder before stepping out completely. “Think about it. The offer’s there, so long as we are.”

   The ghoul rolled his eyes, but he had to give her credit- she recognized a valuable asset when she saw one. He then passed the time by sharpening his knife before going to search for the mechanic and inquire about his tasking. He passed a door that was slightly ajar, the sight and voices from inside momentarily giving him pause.

   “I was worried about you,” the medic said as he brushed a pink strand of hair behind her ear.

   She sighed, “Yeah, me too.”

   “Are you sure you’re alright? I can give a more thorough exam.”

   She laughed, playfully punching him in the ribs. “Only if it’ll end up like last time.”

   He began to lift her shirt. “Guaranteed.” And then he kissed her.

   Charon stood there staring on, not really thinking and not really watching but somehow transfixed at the couple he spied upon. He then quickly left his peeping spot, striding down the hall with his fists clenched tight.

   “Hey.”  

   Charon felt his eyes begin to focus. The mechanic was standing a few feet away, a rucksack held over for him to take.

   “You okay, there? You seemed like you were out to lunch.”

   Smitten, bewitched, adore-

   The bag. The Pip-Boy. Evelyn.

   Love. 

   Charon received his payment and checked its contents before leaving, forgoing the invitation to rest for the night as he traveled through the dark, his feet swift and mind traveling down a one-lane, dead-end road, the thick fog blurring everything else along the sides. 

   The last raider he had disposed of was still propped over the billiards table, the pool stick ripped out of her skull and held in his hands. He pulled the corpse off by the sleeve of her jacket, leaning over and setting himself up for a shot. Click-Clack. The cue ball sunk an orange solid. He straightened and looked over to the horrified, wide-open scream the woman still had on her blue face.

   He muttered, "I was worried about you."

   She didn't respond.

   The ghoul made his way along the empty subway tracks, booting at a rock with his foot. His raspy voice eerily floated down the line, "Are you sure you're alright?"

   He eventually came to the restrooms where the first raider had his head in the toilet. He moved the body with his boot to relieve himself and thought back to Reilly and what he assumed was her boyfriend. Out of sheer habit, he pulled the handle for a flush (it didn’t) and stepped over to the sink attached to the wall, spinning a tap open. He didn’t remove his gloves as he rubbed his hands together under the frigid, mud-colored spray, staring at the cracked reflection of himself. 

   He observed how his mouth moved. “I can give a more thorough exam.”

   The mirror emitted a nail-biting screech of a sound before it suddenly spider-webbed, further distorting his image. 

   The ghoul exited the metro back to the Museum of History, grumbling under his breath as his brows pinched so closely together they threatened to never part again. “…I was worried about you.”

  “Heard all about your mission." Willow was off to the side, rattling a pack of smokes at him. "Seems to me you somehow managed…not surprising. You could stay, you know.” She squinted. “You can’t really be banished, not from here, anyhow. Not like there's much where else for us ghouls to go.” A wink. "And I could always use the extra backup."

   He turned for the doors, a faint mutter on his tongue. "Are you sure you’re alright?”

   Willow craned her head to subtly observe as he climbed the steps to the Museum of History; the stretch of his back as he pulled at the handle of the weighted door, the ripple of exposed muscle from his left arm. Once disappeared inside from her longing gaze, she released a wistful sigh to herself, cupping one hand around her mouth as she worked to light up her smoke.

   Winthrop was indeed asleep…that is, until Charon opened his door and came to park at his bedside, rattling every bone in his body after putting a hand on his shoulder to throttle him awake. 

   “I have the parts,” he growled.

   Winthrop groaned, wiping at the crust over his eye, “Wh-what time is it? Can’t this wait till-”

   “Now.”

   “Now!” The ghoul sprang from bed directly into his jumpsuit, shaking the sleep from his limbs and yawning into an empty mug. “Wonder if Greta wouldn’t mind a fresh pot…”

   Charon dumped the sack on his workbench and took residence in the corner; a perched owl spying on a field mouse below. 

   Winthrop turned, uneasy and visibly swallowing. “Are you going to be there the whole time? It’s kind of making me nervous…this might take a few days.”

   “One.” Charon held up a single finger. “One day.”

   “I-I don’t know if I-”

   Charon curled his finger into his fist and cracked his knuckles by flexing. 

   “You know something, I think one day is plenty!” Winthrop awkwardly held up his empty cup. “I’m just going to grab some coffee…you…uh…want anything?”

   Charon settled into his spot, his face disappearing where the light could not reach. “No.”

   Regardless of his social shortcomings, Winthrop returned with a second mug filled with a bitter, tar-black liquid. “Just in case you change your mind. It’s fresh." He looked inside it, slightly dubious. "Or so Greta says, anyway.”

   The cup was placed within his reach, but he only momentarily eyed it before studying with the utmost attention how Winthrop began to disassemble and prep the Pip-Boy for repair. 

   Winthrop cleared a lump of phlegm from the back of his throat. “So…how…how is she?” He unscrewed a thin metal plate from the back, careful not to dislodge any wiring. “I mean, I assume you guys work together, or something-?”

   “I am the boyfriend.” 

   A screw fumbled from his fingers to the floor. “Woops.” He bent down to retrieve it, every joint in his body popping. “Oh, so you, and her-?”

   “Yes.”

   He stood, wiping at his face with one hand after collecting the remaining screws in a little safety dish to the side. Charon followed the motions of him removing the cracked screen and disposing of the melted knobs. It appeared he had nothing more to contribute to the conversation. There was an aching slump to his shoulders that was most reminiscent of another ghoul he knew of…he honestly couldn't decide who was the more pathetic.

   “Tulip.”

   Winthrop paused with his tedious work, swiveling his head around to the ominous giant in his corner, blinking his one eye. “Excuse me?”

   “Tulip.” Charon shifted his weight to the other foot, the leather of his jacket creaking. “She would like a drink.”

   The two stared at the other in silence before Winthrop groveled, dumbfounded at his suggestion, “I’m not sure what you’re trying to say.”

   Charon tilted forward. “Tulip. Give her a drink.”

   “Why?”

   “Just do it,” he growled, his patience thinning.

   “What, right now?”

   Charon rubbed his eyes. “Later.”

   “I’m just trying to understand-”

   “You will buy her a drink and get her something nice.”

   “…I will?”

   “Flowers.”

   Winthrop choked, “Flowers?!”

   “They are ‘pretty’.” Charon nodded. “It will make her happy.”

   The Pip-Boy was continued with for the next thirty minutes before Winthrop quietly lamented, “I don’t even know where to get any flowers…”

   Charon took ownership of the second cup, raising the brim to his mouth. “You will find some.”

   Winthrop stayed true to his work- the Pip-Boy had been repaired and was ready to be taken back to her. Charon had studied the way he had taken piece by piece apart and put it back together, for now if anything were to happen to the device in the future, he would know how to fix it himself. 

   Winthrop relinquished it over with a weary sigh. “She’s good as new. Heck, with all the parts it needed, it practically is. The memory core was still good, so she didn’t lose anything data-wise.”

   Charon wrapped it in his jacket (the best protection he could offer it) before placing it snug in his bag. 

   Winthrop’s rasp was thick. “Guess I’ll ask Tulip for that drink…I could sure use one.”

   Charon shouldered his gear. “Do not forget the flowers.”

   The sunrise eloped the sprinting of the moon, that silver sliver dipping behind the far-off mountain ranges with the chill of the night. The sniper sentry above gave him a respectful wave with his rifle upon his arrival, but Charon didn’t return the greeting as he made short timing of unlocking her front door and inviting himself inside. The lights were all on.

   She was asleep on the couch, his noisy entry rousing her. She tucked her legs underneath her and mussed her already unruly hair with her fingers, drowsily mumbling, “Charon?”

   He unstrapped his pack to set it on the table and set to stripping his gear while she slowly came around wiping the sleep from her face. 

   “Was everything okay?” she mumbled, tucking the blanket tightly around her shoulders. “You're back so soon.”

   The Pip-Boy was gently taken out of his bag, held over for her to inspect and approve of.

   “Wow. It’s almost like new,” she said, flicking through the screens. She strapped it to her wrist and gave him wide-eyes after taking notice of the dried gore still on his person. “It wasn’t any trouble, was it?”

   He shook his head and began to pull out more things for her. “No.”

   The few comic books, a skipping rock, and the boxes of snack cakes he had salvaged were neatly put in a pile. When she just stared at everything he inclined his head to it.

   A box of sweets was gingerly picked up, shyly brought to her chest. “Thank you.”

   The beat of his heart hurt. Thump thump thump. Those sea-sprayed eyes were drowning every intelligent thought he tried to anchor down; they all slipped from his hands like casted sails, disappearing into open sky. 

   They both spoke up simultaneously, “I was-”

   “Oh, sorry,” she hastily apologized. 

   He backed up a step and rubbed at the backside of his head, suddenly feeling much too hot under his collar. Neither finished their sentence, and so she bit her lower lip whilst he looked off to the side and scratched at his bicep. 

   She finally piped up, “Um. You were saying?”

   Thump Thump Thump

   He couldn’t meet her eyes. It was too dangerous. “I was worried about you,” he rumbled.

   Evelyn smiled, as warm as summer rain. “I was worried about you, too.”

   He stiffly nodded before rasping, “Are you sure you’re alright?" He began to unzip her jumpsuit, each word somehow more awkward and forced than the last. "I can give a more thorough exam.”

   She madly blushed to the boiling point of a furnace as she shakily met his hand with hers. “O-oh, u-um, I mean, I was pretty lucky with what happened. The ant queen-"

   He stopped, now staring at her as though she had just grown a set of three heads with asses growing out of their ears. “The what?”

   “The ant queen,” she repeated. “If Jericho hadn’t-"

   His gloved hand came away as though she had smacked him, the tone of his voice taking a dive off the bow and into the depths of cold waters. “Jericho? What of him?”

   Her voice came out extremely small; a child in the face of chastising authority. “Um, I thought maybe Simms told you, or Gob, and that’s why you were asking…”

   Charon was already two strides to the door, his shotgun nabbed with one hand while the other went for the handle. “I shall return.”

   “Wait, where are you going?!” Evelyn grabbed at his belt. “If it’s about Jericho, he’s already dead.”

   He stonily looked at the door, saying as flatly as he could, “I wish to know what has happened.”

   With every bit recounted, he felt his teeth further grind until a dull throb in his temples made the pain nigh unbearable. How much sheer dumb fucking luck she had been blessed with to have survived such an ordeal. Charon shrugged her off, a bitter taste settling in his mouth at the thought of Evelyn (no- his employer) placing herself in danger without his knowing. There was a sting of betrayal, a feeling he knew all too well, at her so easily undergoing something she knew he would be most unhappy with. 

   He felt stupid.

   He felt angry.

   He felt the Pip-Boy to have not been worth his absence or time. He didn’t have to take it for her, for she would have not ordered him to, and now he was standing there thinking of all the ways she wouldn’t have made it home.

   “My contract?” he asked after she had finished, ignorant of the fear darkening her face.

   “…what about it?”

   “I wish to see it.”

   She went upstairs and then came back down, holding over the piece of paper that bound him to her. He didn’t take it in his hands- the sight of it in itself was enough of a guarantee. 

   “If you are to undertake such a task without me again,” he plainly said, “then I ask of you to keep my contract somewhere I can acquire it.” He tilted his head down, his voice eerily low. “I will need to give it to my previous employer should you die.”

   His employer tucked the contract close to her heart, and when she lifted her face with a loud sniffle, he could see fat tears ready to fall from her eyes. She said thickly, that summer smile now hardened into frost, "Don't bother unpacking just yet. We're going to Rivet City." 

In Rough Seas

   The pungent smell of gunpowder had flooded her nose. She had flinched, her eyes squinting against that wet spray of blood that slapped her face as Ahzrukhal fell to the floor from a single blast to the head. From the moment Charon had uttered those words, she had felt her blood chill and the marrow in her bones ache; her soul wept about the life she once had. She had truly believed Charon was going to shoot her- then and now.

   He was hovering just outside her bedroom door, watching her through the slip of a crack as she shoved supplies inside her (new) pack and began to lace up her crusted leathers. Damn the grime they were still greased with, damn the way her muscles ached and her heart palpated, damn the way Jericho had stood at the side of her bed last night, screaming in her face, “YOU LEFT ME YOU FUCKING BITCH!”

   The lights had been flipped on. She had felt his presence even after she had closed her own door. She heard his breathing, somehow still alive, with his skin ripped from his skull and his teeth left bared, the wide pupils following her every move through the walls. Wadsworth had remained online to give her solace until she had fallen asleep, and only then did she wake up in those tunnels, everything being licked by the flames until he came to put them out. 

   Charon had come home, and she knew she was safe...but now... 

   “We have to go get Bryan,” she reminded him without turning around.

   ...she wasn’t so sure.

   Charon didn’t say anything. He didn’t acknowledge her statement, offer to retrieve him, or even give a nod of his head. He was very much the man she knew when they had first met. 

   “Your contract.” She held up her journal for him to see. “Will be in here.”

   His eyes slowly roved from the book to her face- he understood.

   “Okay. I’m ready. Are you?”

   He removed himself from sight, waiting just outside his door, not a single visible thought on his face as he looked down the stairs, docked like a creaky ship with stitched sails and blackened cannons, the planks aged with rings and the hull salt-crusted. She ducked her head and stepped past, feeling his foreboding shadow creeping along behind.

   Simms was more than grateful for the relief and pulled her aside before they made to depart. “Great work down there. I don’t think any of us would have made it out if it wasn’t for you.” He clapped her on the shoulder. “I know Bryan will be in good hands.” Simms then looked over to her stoic companion. “Although, if I’m being honest, it makes me feel better knowing he’s back with you.”

   (If she had her way, he soon wouldn’t be)

   Dogmeat returned to her side like a symbiont as they all began the journey to Rivet City. Bryan took a solemn pause at the top of the hill overlooking Grayditch, the settlement now nothing more than crumbled cinder and chiseled headstones. After having licked their wounds from the fight with the ants and their queen, Evelyn and a few of the others had returned with the boy to help bury his father and salvage anything worth taking. There hadn't been much, but no one had expected there to be. 

   “Do you want to say anything?” Evelyn said gently. “We can give you a few minutes. We’re not in a hurry.”

   The boy shook his head and wiped the snot from his nose with the back of his hand. “…I just want to go.”

   Evelyn took the lead, following the predetermined route marked on her Pip-Boy while Bryan and Dogmeat followed center. Charon brought up their rear, his eyes sweeping the dully changing landscape. He hadn’t spoken a word to her since that morning, and it continued into nightfall when they set up the first camp at the sewer outpost. The ghoul removed himself from their company and stood guard beyond the campfire's light. Dogmeat became squished between Bryan and herself, each stroking his soft fur and listening to his wet pants echoing down the damp corridors. 

   “Where do you think Papa is now?” Bryan asked her. 

   Evelyn scratched the dog’s ear. “I don’t know. I don’t think anyone does.” 

   He buried his face, hiding away in a field of brown and black and white. “I hope I can see Papa again someday.”

   The night crept forward; the fire began to die; the boy was soon fast asleep. Evelyn encroached on the ghoul’s secular sanctuary, her hands fidgeting into a knot of trepidation as he watched her every step. She came within a few feet and halted, unable to meet his eerie stare shining through the dark. 

   She quietly asked, “Are you hungry? There’s still some food.”

   He didn’t say anything. He didn’t move.

   She tried again, keeping her voice low but placing enough urgency on her tongue. “If you’re mad at me, just say that.”

   He didn’t.

   “Do you want a sorry? Fine, I’m sorry. I’m sorry I left and did what I did.” When he remained silent, her arms became as cross as her temper did, her whispering borderline hostile. “Whatever. It won’t matter much when we get to Rivet City, anyway.” 

   She spun on her heel to march straight back to her sleeping roll when he finally spoke up with a deep rumble of a rasp. 

   “You are inexperienced.”

   She backed up a step before halfway turning. He was now standing, those two bright orbs hovering like distantly lit beacons. There was no expression to interpret, but she didn’t need one by the tone he used. 

   He continued, “I cannot trust you with your safety.”

   She faced him, that towering veil of inky black. “I lived, didn’t I? I killed the queen and came back. Not all of us made it, but I’m still here.” Her eyes fell to her feet, the sudden fire burnt to ash. “I can’t expect you to be there for me forever.”

   Something in the ghoul's eyes changed, and he grunted, "I see."

   She went back to bed, staring at the curved ceiling of the tunnel and Jericho's face leering down at her, his voice singing to her well into the hours of late. "I'll make sure he gets his! You make sure he gets his! Oh Evelyn, Evelyn, he'll get his- he'll get his!"

   Charon didn’t so much as look in her direction come that morning. Bryan remained aloof of their passive-aggressive standoff as he yapped a mile a minute, threatening to take the ghoul’s ear off (if it already hadn’t been predisposed of) and holding it hostage while they took to pissing off the side of a bridge. 

   “And then Harden told me about these super scary monsters that drink your blood and eat your brains!” Bryan suddenly stopped his excited chatter as he leaned forward and squinted at the big guy’s goods. “Whoa, why’s it all burnt up and stuff? Did those ants get to you too?!”

   Charon stowed himself away with an audible zip!

   “No,” was all he grumbled, stepping down and taking great care to study their surroundings. She missed the way he looked at her when she sorted through her pack for some breakfast, the ghoul only turning away when she lifted her gaze.

   Charon kept his duty as rear-guard, muttering sourly under his breath as Bryan continued to blather about anything and everything at his elbow. Evelyn returned the ghoul’s cold shoulder by refusing to acknowledge him any further, and by the time they came to the boating shed for their second and last stop, the boy and dog sat between them, Bryan's head whipping back and forth to the two childish adults staring at opposite walls.

   He plainly addressed the elephant in the room. “Are you guys fighting?” 

   Evelyn started, “No-”

   Charon finished, “Yes.”

   She glared daggers over the boy’s head. The ghoul ripped off a piece of brahmin jerky between his teeth. 

   Bryan shrugged, unbothered by the hostility brewing in the cramped spacing. “Will’s parents used to fight all the time. Papa said it’s what grown-ups do.” 

   “We’re not fighting,” Evelyn said flatly. 

   Charon brought up another piece to his mouth before holding out one for the boy to take. “We are.”

   “No, we’re not,” she simmered. She tightly hugged herself, averting to the side and pouting, “It’s just a disagreement.”

   Charon snorted, openly chewing. “It is more than that.”

   “We didn’t have a choice!” Her voice raised in volume, flattening Dogmeat’s ears. “I didn’t know when you’d get back.”

   “You are wrong,” he growled, turning his head to glare. “There is always a choice.”

   “Wow, that’s rich coming from someone like you. Did Ahzrukhal ever get this much sass?”

   The dog whined. Evelyn mentally slapped herself and felt bile rise in her throat. The smolder in Charon’s eyes grew dim, two cold flames burning through the night, the tension enough to crack her skull wide open. 

   He rasped, “The Pip-Boy was my choice.”

   Hot shame flushed her skin and chained her tongue, and she found herself unable to apologize as he left the shack altogether to stand watch for the night. Dogmeat played a living, breathing stuffy as she cuddled him on one side while the boy took his residency on the other, both inhaling his dusty fur. 

   “Is he coming back inside?” Bryan asked with a tinge of concern.

   Her eyes closed. Jericho wouldn't stop grinning at her.

   The morning came, and they set off. She listened to the river lapping at the bank as the dog danced in the tide and the boy asked question after question after question to Charon, who, in turn, answered mono-syllabically. She didn’t see the pile of skippers he slowly and methodically collected in her wake, her nose buried too deep in her screen until they came within sight of the grounded carrier. 

   Bryan parroted her prior shock and awe at the sight of the rusted behemoth, pointing with a loud exclaim, “Cool! Aunt Vera lives on that?!”

   Charon stepped up beside her and unshouldered his pack to pull out a weathered parka and a gas mask. He accommodated his gear for the bulky layer before the mask went over his head, and then he held out a fully gloved hand for her to take. When she only looked down at it, confused, he grumbled, “I am deaf, blind, and mute...remember?”

   Their fingers intertwined, and she swore she felt his thumb gently sweep over her skin...but she surely must have imagined it.

   “Are you two done fighting?” a voice piped up from behind.

   They both turned to the boy. 

   Evelyn explained, derailing the topic, “Ghouls aren’t allowed in Rivet City, so he has to stay covered. Don’t tell anyone, okay? He goes by Grog here.”

   Bryan made a face. “That’s a dumb name. And why? Mister Scary Guy is a good guy.”

   “He is,” she agreed. “But it’s the only way to get him on the ship.”

   “Well,” Bryan said as he kicked a rock in the water, “when I’m an adult, I’ll make it so ghouls can live on it, too.”

   The bridge extended after a push of the button, and they all waited for the Rivet City guards to escort them across. The head of security lowered his rifle, easing his partner to do the same. “I remember you,” he spoke up as they came close. He eyed the two smaller tagalongs. “More friends of yours? Or a permanent move with the family?”

   Her heart skipped a beat, her hand unintentionally squeezing Charon's. “We’re looking for a Vera? This is Bryan, her nephew.”

   “Vera? As in Weatherly?” He studied the child. “Only Vera I know of. She’s the owner of the Weatherly Hotel. I’m sure you’ll find your way.”

   Bryan shot off like a bullet fired from a gun, with Dogmeat yipping and yapping at his heels. Together they bounded forward with as much noise as humanly possible. 

   Evelyn stopped the security guard with an imploring look on her face after they had crossed. “I’m also looking for a Pinkerton?” 

   He shook his head, the name foreign. “Never heard of him.”

   She tried again, refusing to budge after he simply brushed her off. “Please, I heard he lives here and-”

   “Maybe try asking Dr. Li- she’s one of the few who have been on this rust bucket the longest.” With the curt interruption, he beckoned them on with his rifle. “I’m busy, so if you don’t have more pressing matters for me to handle, then keep it moving.”

   Evelyn squinted at the barely exposed and faded name tag he wore on his chest. “Fine…thanks, Harkness.”

   He matched her cool attitude with, “That’s Chief, to you.”

   Bryan had taken first place in the race to the Weatherly, nimbly outpacing the slower-going duo as Charon kept his facade of needing a chaperone (despite his ability to see through the tinted lenses of his mask). A few of the other settlers loudly voiced their displeasure at having nearly been stampeded by the speeding fur missile and rambunctious child. 

   “Hey, watch it, kid!”

   “Who let a dog on the ship?”

   “Where’s your parents?!”

   In the aftermath of their destructive wake, Evelyn apologized, “Sorry- sorry- he’s just excited. First time!”

   Bryan broke the news to his unsuspecting aunt himself, rambling on and on and on while she just stared at him with unprocessed shock. Much to Evelyn's relief, Vera agreed (and quite happily) to Bryan's new situation. “I’m sorry to hear about my brother, but you’re more than welcome to live here with me.” She gave Evelyn the key to a room. “Thank you for keeping him safe. Here. Free of charge. I’m sure you’ll be needing it for the night.”

   Bryan hugged Dogmeat tight. “Goodbye, boy. Thanks for being the best dog.”

   “If we’re ever here, we’ll come visit,” Evelyn promised. “We’ll stop and say goodbye before we go.”

   “You better! Thanks lady, and Mister Sca-oops- I mean! Grog!”

   A weight she hadn’t noticed lifted from her shoulders as the original party left for their room. Dogmeat instantly claimed the cot with a few furious spins before curling in a tight ball, his beady, heterochromia eyes watching their every move as they parted with their respective packs and Charon removed his mask. 

   “I need to go speak with Li,” Evelyn said. “If you want-”

   “Who is this Pinkerton?”

   She fumbled with her suggestion and instead gave an, “Oh. Um…I honestly don't know.”

   “Then why?”

   “He’s someone I need to see.”

   Charon sighed, full of irritation, “Why?”  

   “Why do you suddenly care?” she snapped. 

   “Is that a serious question?”

   “You never bothered with any of it before!” They both crossed their arms simultaneously, browbeating each other with reserved indignations. “Would you rather wait here while I go?”

   He snorted, already going to replace his mask over his head. “That, is a stupid question.”

   “My father said there’s no such thing as a stupid question,” she retorted, high-and-mighty, feeling her hand becoming engulfed in his. There was that sweeping sensation on the back of her hand again, but it was so brief and feather-light she told herself she imagined it.

   Charon stated matter-of-factly, “Then he is stupid.”

   She groveled with a mocking impression, “Then he is stupid.”  

   The science lab gained three new additions to their daily flurry of hectic activities. Evelyn sidepassed a grumbling old man who was openly berating a woman, the hired gun at his side assessing Charon from head to toe. 

   Dr. Li was behind a table, her face pinched with disapproval at the samples before her. “No, this isn’t what I was referring to.” She raised her eyes as they came closer and immediately redirected her chagrin at Evelyn’s presence, instead. “Oh. It’s you again…did you find James?”

   “No, and I’m actually looking for Pinkerton.”

   The scientist quickly went from annoyed to surprised. “Pinkerton? Whatever for?”

   “It’s personal business, but I assume you know where he is?”

   “He’s in the bow of the ship. Fair warning- he doesn’t like visitors.” Dr. Li lowered her eyes to the samples for further study and returned her attention to the chart in her hands. “Are you not looking for him, still? Your father?”

   Charon slowly spun his head around, a creepy motion considering all things. 

   Evelyn held his hand tightly without meaning to. “No. My dad isn’t worth it.”

   Dr. Li pursed her lips tightly as they left for the ship's bow. 

   Charon removed his mask when they were far enough from the bridge, peering up at the dark sky with a frown. “There will be a storm soon.”

   “We’ll be back before it hits,” she assured him. She stopped in her tracks, and he gave her a questioning look as she sheepishly tapped her fingers together. “Um…which part is the bow?”

   A roll of his eyes and a point of his finger, his eyes squinting through the thickening haze and light drizzling mist for any sort of access point. They found one, and Dogmeat galloped ahead with his nose to the dirt, his sharp nails tapping across a rickety makeshift bridge that led to a single hatch on the detached end of the ship. Evelyn eyed the distance to the Memorial; a few super mutants watched them from their catwalks.

   “Do you think they’ll come for us?” she asked, the horrific memory of their previous battle at the radio plaza socking her in the gut. 

   Charon held his shotgun in hand, not taking his eyes away from the potential threat. “I do not think so.”

   The hatch was locked, and she threw her weight into the handle as she tried to force it open. Charon gently pushed her aside, rolling his shoulders and attempting it himself. It wouldn’t budge. 

   “I can try to pick it.” A slender box of bobby pins was pulled out from a pocket. “Just watch my back, okay?” She then bent down to begin testing her thievery skills.

   Charon nodded, his head tilting slightly as her bum raised. “I will.”

   More than one pin snapped from her attempts, and she muttered and cursed under her breath as she held up the sole survivor for all three of them to see. She mumbled, “Shit…” 

   Charon turned to the side and blew out his nostril with one finger. “Do not waste it.”

   (Well, no pressure there)

   “Thanks,” she candidly replied with dripping sarcasm. 

   The pin was inserted, the lock fiddled, and she felt a damp puff of air continuously hit her cheek as Dogmeat ever-so-slowly crept his head forward to eye what it was of great interest that she was doing, her personal space invaded by a drooling tongue and god-awful breath. 

   “Can I have some space, please?” she asked. 

   Charon suddenly appeared on her other side, flattening her existence between the two of them. “Is it done?”

   “No!”

   Neither granted her any extra room, and so she just tersely bitched to herself as she gave great concentration to the task at hand with her tongue poking out the side of her mouth. A wiggle here- resistance. A wiggle there- a smooth turn. The handle was slowly turned the entirety of the way, a faint click telling of her success.

   “Yes! I got it!” 

   It swung open, and they were greeted by the rank smell of rotten eggs and a blockading wall of shell. The mirelurk turned to them, everyone equally surprised at the unwanted encounter. 

   Charon quickly swung the hatch back shut, snarling at her, “You are to wait. Right. Here.” He then ordered the dog, “Keep her safe.”

   Evelyn didn’t have time to argue as he dipped inside and shut her out, the sound of gunshots ringing in her ears. She opened the door in hot pursuit, just in time to witness the ghoul giving a blunt kick to a mirelurk in the chest, dropping it down a shaft before firing off a blast at its exposed face. 

   He turned to her, his gun raised for a split-second before he snapped the muzzle back down. He barked, “Get out!”

   A claw rose from the depths, refusing to commit to its watery grave as it snagged at his boot to drag him down, and the ghoul grunted as he was caught off guard and lost his footing, dropping his gun to catch himself before falling into the pit.

   “Dogmeat, grab him!” Evelyn shrieked, rushing over to grab his hand while Dogmeat closed his sharp teeth around his shoulder pad, both heaving back against the immense strength of the mirelurk. 

   The ants were crawling. Jericho was at her side, his eyes bloodshot and lips missing as he sardonically mocked in her ear, “I have you! I have you!”

   The weight of Charon began to drag down, down, down inside that pitch of black, never to come back, the only token left for her to bring home being a single limb. She screamed, “Get off of him!” Evelyn released him and jumped over, landing atop the mirelurk’s shell. 

   Charon wrapped an arm around the railing from the extra weight, a few rusty bolts popping free from the strain. He snarled, “Evelyn!”

   She straddled the giant crustacean, digging her left fingers through the exposed, soft flesh for a better hold as it bucked and attempted to swipe at her with its disabled claw. The knife in her other hand found a black, glazed orifice- its eye. The blade sank with an almost skin-tingling pleasing sensation by how smoothly it went to the hilt, and then she felt herself begin to fall into nothing as the mirelurk emitted a high-frequency squeal and released its prey. Her right arm was grabbed, the awkward angle and unrelenting force dislocating it. 

   Charon hoisted her over, ignoring her bellied screaming as he swiftly assessed her injury and rasped, his expression pinched and breathing labored, “It is a subluxation. Hold still.” He relocated her shoulder, taking up his shotgun to prepare for any more unwanted guests while she regained her senses as she sat there, cradling her arm close to her chest. He rasped with urgency, “Can you remove your jacket?”

   “Just give me a minute,” she breathed, her eyes screwed shut and stomach hot with nausea from the extreme pain. Dogmeat whined in her ear and licked her nose until a few minutes passed and it slowly began to fade into a dull throb, wherein she gently began to undress her outer layer. 

   Charon knelt beside her, dropping his guard for a moment as he retrieved a stim to help the healing of her strained ligaments and muscles. 

   She groaned at the familiar sensation of the stim performing its miracle serum, cracking an eye open to see him. “Use one.”

   He shook his head. “I am not injured.”

   “I saw you in pain.”

   The look he gave was unfamiliar. “I am fine.” He stood, helping her to her feet and handing over her things. “I advise we leave.”

   “No. If he’s here, we’re going to find him.” She zipped up her jacket, careful of her still-tender muscles. “Hopefully no more mirelurks.”

   Charon halted her before she could step into the next room. “Do not step there.”

   She blinked, then followed his gaze down. A thin wire faintly glinted, and she turned on her Pip-Boy light to expose it. “Oh.”

   “Yes.” Charon crouched to disarm it carefully, rasping dryly, “Oh.”  

   The dog watched their backs as Charon replaced point, freezing their tracks in every room they came through as he dismantled trap after trap. “Someone is here,” he reluctantly agreed, quickly unloading a shotgun rig for its shells. “They do not wish to be found.”

   “He'll change his mind.” Evelyn clicked a first aid kit shut, replacing her spent medical supplies. 

   A final hatch was crept up to, and the ghoul meticulously examined every crevice of its frame for any possible gotcha’s! His fingers lightly felt along the sides as he grumbled to himself, and only when he was satisfied did he stand back and try to open it.

   Locked.

   Evelyn reached for her remaining bobby pin, aghast as she felt nothing but an empty pocket. “Fuck. I think it fell out with that mirelurk.”

   Charon growled, “Then let us go.”

   “But we’ve come this far!”

   “For what?”

   “For…” she trailed off, her eyes wandering around the room for something of use. A glowing switch on the far side caught her attention. Feeling giddy, she stepped over and pressed the button, her intuition proving right when the door swung open with a loud whine. 

   Charon scoped the room with his shotgun. Evelyn stepped in behind, momentarily looking around at the array of surgical equipment and blinking machinery. A gurney with a skeleton hiding under a blood-stained sheet peeped at their entrance, and then the man she had been so desperate to meet turned to them from behind a screen. 

   “What the-?! Who in the hell are you?!” he demanded.

   Evelyn took a breath, half-turned to Charon, and said quietly. “Charon, under no condition do you kill him...do you understand?”

   Charon dumbly lowered his gun, forced to nod before asking, “What are we here for?”

   She ignored him and addressed their unsuspecting host. “Pinkerton? I’m Evelyn, and this is Charon.” She held up her Pip-Boy for him to see. “I’ve heard about you and think you can help us.” She then placed her hand on his chest. “I think you can help him.”

"Testament"

Summary

"Ghoul meets girl, and all the problems that come with it."

Rating:

Explicit

Archive Warnings:

Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Category:

F/M

Relationships:

CH x FOC

Stats:

Published: 2023-03-09 Completed: 2023-12-27 Words: 166,925 Chapters: 45/45

Nice to Meet You

   We are born in the Vault.

   Those metallic halls, ever so cold under the warmth of fingertips.

   We live in the Vault.

   No everlasting sky, no clouds of dust stirred by skin-flaying winds.

   We die in the Vault.

  No shit-stained, putrid-smelling, ethic-lacking, grotesque jumblefuck of a mess this world had become.

   Shitshitshitshitshit-

   And no fucking man-eating, monster-sized ants, either.

   The chittering bastards were clipping at her blistered heels (she never imagined socks could have become such a rare commodity) and their bone-breaking pincers nearly snagged the hem of her vault suit a few times. She bounded over rocks and ducked under fallen powerlines like an ersatz Olympic event, pounding her feet against the scorched earth with enough thundering bravado to make a stampeding herd of brahmin envious.

   An ant nipped the backside of her thigh, erupting a squeak from her mouth and a second gear in her legs she didn’t even know she had. The looming eyesore of Megaton came into view soon after, and the burning in her calf muscles told her it was do or die if she even merely thought of slowing down.

   A few gunshots rang out from the sniper’s nest- ol’ Stockholm provided her life-saving pest control.

   Again.

   Evelyn gasped as she finally slowed down at the gates, her hands on her knees and her heart threatening to be puked from her chest. Beads of sweat rolled from the tip of her forehead and down the curve of her nose to drip on her boots; dirt-streaked hair clung to her skin like thin snakes, the loose wisps winding around her throat and licking at her cheeks for a taste of salt.

   The groaning of rusted metal became her fanfare to usher her back inside. Evelyn raised a hand in kind as the sniper just shook his head at her naïve stupidity. With this track record, she was on a straight and narrow road to an early grave.

   Thanks Dad.

   After the gates had closed behind her, a few strands of hair were brushed from her nose (it tickled), and the creeping wedge of her soaked, sour-smelling vault suit was fished from the crack of her ass. She bumbled over the metal plumbing (nearly tripping) towards her new home in this wild atomic wasteland. It had only been a month since she had escaped with her life from Vault 101, a mere month since she had woken up to this never-ending nightmare of parental ghost hunting and day-to-day survival training. Not even all of the downloaded archives in the Vault’s system could have prepared her for this school of hard knocks.

   Thanks, Dad.

   She fumbled with the key in the lock before swinging the door open to a spartan Feng Shui setting. A knife-knicked table that wobbled under pressure, a chair with no backside, a locker that raped her ears every time the door was opened, and a (horrifyingly) stained mattress that she hadn’t bothered to lug up the stairs yet. Although, it was better than the musty, dank body odor seeping from the corners of the common house...so she had that going for her, at least.

   The Mister Handy by the name of Wadsworth hummed about its duties and tactfully bitched about her entrance after she simply stripped her filthy suit to the floor and splashed cold water on her sunburnt skin, dismissing its earlier hard work without even a breathed apology.

   Evelyn nabbed at a wastelander’s outfit, cringing at the texture of the stiff fabric itching like sandpaper along her salt-crusted skin. Dressed, hydrated from a bottle Wadsworth had condensed for her, and somewhat sated after stuffing slimy Cram down her throat, she curled into a ball on her bed (tried not to think about the mysterious bodily fluids she laid upon) and closed her eyes for an escape from it all.

   She dreamt of bright fluorescent lights.

   We are born in the dirt.

   We live in the shit.

   We die as God intended.  

   Alone.

   “How’d it go out there smoothskin?”

   Evelyn raised her eyes over the untouched drink set before her. It smelled like piss.

   “Just...peachy,” she mumbled, belting a loud sigh and spinning her beer bottle in a circle. She righted it before it toppled. “Almost made it to the Super Mart...but ants found me first.”

   The ghoul bartender working behind the counter gave her a half-hearted shrug while spinning a grimy rag inside a glass. “Hey, at least you came back in one piece...can’t say that for everyone.”

   A teasing smile quirked her lips, dampening her mean quip behind a flash of white teeth. “Such as yourself?”

   “I still got all my toes, smoothskin,” Gob rasped with a low chuckle. “Nice try.”

   His hazy eyes then took a quick peek down her vault suit, instinctively making her fingers tug the zipper up to her neck. He didn’t seem to notice the correlation as he went about his job with a damp cloth on the counter and a lighter mood from her company.

   Don’t make anything out of it, kid. Men like these would eye the backside of a brahmin if they knew they wouldn’t get caught doing it. Nova, the saloon’s only working girl, had imparted the sage advice (that only young women who were forced beyond their years would know) the third time she had come around. Every guy is going to stare at you like a piece of meat...just make sure he actually pays for a good cut, first. Sex sells, kid, and you got a nice face with huge tits.

   Evelyn inwardly shuddered at the thought. It was beyond uncomfortable going from the awkward sexual outcast in the Vault to suddenly catching the eyes of nearly every man she passed. She wasn’t stunning like Amata, whom the horny boys had begun to not-so-discreetly pine over, but the stares made her feel vulnerable. If she wasn’t prey outside the walls, then she was just a cornered mouse within them.

   “Ya goin’ to drink that kid, or just stare at it to empty itself?”

   And if she wasn’t busy being either of those things... then she was Moriarty’s new favorite torment.

   The Irish saloon owner (and general prick) leaned in close over the counter, wafting his thick breath down her throat. “If you’re goin’ to be a distraction to my barkeep, I suggest you fucking leave.” He then stood straight, a beaming grin smug on his face. “Alright, girly?”

   Evelyn shrugged herself off her barstool, throwing him a glare. “Sewage smells better than this crap.” She then stomped off and slammed the door behind herself before any nasty remarks could be thrown at her back.

   Still...the biting rudeness dissolved her tough exterior into a sniveling mess by the time she entered back inside her ‘house’. That old fuck was somehow crueler in five minutes than all of Butch’s harassment from the past five years.

   “Oh dear...trouble, Madam?” The floating robot inquired as she burst inside.

   She only threw Wadsworth a withering look, effectively silencing the robot into begrudging comments regarding her uncalled-for attitude. The time on her Pip-Boy read approximately two-thirty in the afternoon...plenty of daylight to test her suicidal tendencies once more.

   “I’m going out,” she informed him after shrugging on her dusty, sun-bleached tunnel snake jacket.

   Butch would have been so disappointed as to its condition...but meticulous care of frivolous things didn’t help in keeping her alive.

   Not much did, actually.

   “I hope to see you alive and well!” Wadsworth remarked cheerily after she stepped back out into the sun. She heard him mutter to himself lowly, “Or neither...perhaps.”

   The squealing metal gates then rolled shut behind her, Stockholm’s head shaking as she set off into the wastes once more.

   Shit-ohfuck-nononono-!

   Super-Duper Mart had been just on the horizon, and for the first time in weeks, her heart swelled with optimistic hope at the sight of possible food, water, and as the sun began to set, shelter.

   Too bad a batch of radscorpions had beaten her there first.

   Her boots kicked up dirt and her screams were lodged behind panicked gasps as she sprinted to relative safety. She wasn’t in a million years about to hightail it back in the dark- even her bar of common sense wasn’t that low- but the longer she fled the more attraction she unwittingly chased; a few mongrels, a molerat, hell, a fucking upright human-sized crab thing became her abomination parade. They all congregated in a nasty fashion of screeching choirs and blood spilt baptisms amongst each other, and by the time she had spared a glance behind herself, the mutated crustacean was happily nibbling on its three-course meal (and twirling a mongrel limb like some macabre baton).

   Evelyn took respite among the boarded-up houses she eventually bumbled into, grateful for a moment to catch her breath and puke spittle to the side.

   Too bad a group of super mutants had beaten her there, too.

   This then led to a brief chase- thank God they were so unbelievably slow- and here the cowardly field mouse came upon an abandoned train station, holing up in a small grocery shop on the corner and barricading herself inside.

   A box of Sugar Bombs was snatched from the top shelf and torn into with animalistic tendencies, a Nuka-Cola was popped and guzzled, and before she had a chance to check her map to see just how fucked her distance from home now was, she heard the tell-tale sound of a certain creature that made everything else in this hellscape seem like child’s play.

   Radroaches.

   The rotting doorframe was slammed open, a crystal clear audible shriek yowled out of her chest and into the nighttime air for all to hear, and just as she careened down some metro steps and tripped on her own foot, a weight of something broke her fall (and almost her face).

   No...not something.

   Someone.

   And by the sheer size, someone big.

   ...shit.

   Evelyn grunted, rubbing her sore nose while tears sprung from the corner of her eyes. She peered up a little too quickly, and coupled with the fact she was overheated from physical exertion, and that a tidal wave of stale cereal and fizzy soda were waging war inside of her stomach...well-

   As far as I can tell, you're a perfectly healthy 16-year-old girl, so, yes, you have to go to class to take your G.O.A.T exam.

   Splat!

   The vomit violently rushed up and splashed over their boots.

   Congratulations, looks like you’re going to be the Vault’s newest garbage burner.

   If anything could have taken her back to that day, she would have promptly grabbed it by the hand and dragged it off herself. Nothing, absolutely nothing was as equal to or rivaling this new embarrassing incident she created for herself (not even the time when she had accidentally walked in on Freddie Gomez and Christine Kendall doing the nasty in the lower level of the reactor). ((Yuck)). Still, she would witness it all a second time than be prepared to face the dire consequences of puking on somebody’s feet.

   Evelyn gagged at the smell of her own sick, wiped the backside of her hand across her mouth, and sluggishly raised her head to promptly apologize. The weight of the stare looking down at her from this ginormous fucking ghoul was so overbearing she felt her knees begin to buckle.

   “Oh-oh my God,” she managed to gasp. “I’m so fucking sorry-” A rancid burp escaped her lips, and before she could continue in her heartfelt tirade, she slapped a hand to her mouth and dashed past the chain link gate into the shrouding darkness of the metro tunnel.

   A faded sign for the women’s restroom made her veer a sharp right, but before she could even make it to the toilet for a decent spot to relieve the rest of her stomach contents, she ended up keeling over with her hands on her knees and screwed her eyes shut as she retched loudly enough to have it echo down the whole tunnel.

   Garbage burner.

   The acid burned her throat.

   I could’ve been happy doing that.

   The blur of tears blinded her vision.

   Who fucking cares, I would’ve been safe.

   Globs of drool hung from her lips like slimy spiderwebbing.

   Why couldn’t you just let me live my life, Dad?!

   After she wiped the mess from her lips a second time, she turned around to a solid brick wall of ghoulish muscle and palpable ire mere inches from herself. She knew she was being loud, but she should have at least heard someone that fucking big waltzing around. The surprise gave her a fright, and she squeaked and bumbled into her own slippery mess as an instinctive reaction to flee.

   She blinked in the dim lighting under the flickering fluorescents. It was too dark that she couldn’t quite make out the detail of him, but he was close enough that she could see he was visibly angry.

   Fair- she would’ve been pissed at the person who puked on her and ditched, too.

   “I’m so sorry, I honestly didn’t mean anything by it,” she explained with building anxiety. The dude was just standing there, staring at her...as though he was ready to grab her by the skull and smash it into the tile. Oh God, if he was, she prayed it would be fucking quick-

   “Water,” he rasped.

    His voice was completely flat and void of all emotion, a complete contrast to the raging fire blazing behind his eyes. They glowed down at her like hollow furnaces, blue and piercing in the black shadow.

   She stared at him dumbly, too frightened (and mortified) to respond in a respectful manner. His boot crushed some small rocks as he took a step toward her, his voice low and gravelly.

   “Water,” he repeated.

   With her mouth still slightly slack-jawed, her fingers became their own entity as they fumbled inside her jacket pockets uselessly. She didn’t have jackshit on her.

   “Uh, uh-uh,” she stammered. “I don’t have any.”

   He leaned over, his hot breath choking her own. “Then go get some.”

   Holy fuck, he was huge. He could easily pick her up and toss her across the room. She glanced at the butt end of the shotgun holstered to his back, briefly scented the thick musk of his sweat and gunpowder laced to his leather clothes. He was the biggest man she had ever seen, and at that moment, she had managed to piss him off.

   “O-Okay.” She nodded stupidly, carefully bypassing him like one does a stalking predator to then sprint out of the women’s restroom.

   When she came to the chain link gate a second time, she paused for a moment. Water? Where the fuck was she going to get some...and why? She should just keep going, run as far as her remaining stamina would take her until she returned to the safety of Megaton’s walls. He wouldn’t follow her- she didn’t think- and she would hopefully never see him ever aga-

   An ominous presence stirred her from her thoughts, and she turned her head.

   The ghoul had somehow managed to sneak up on her again, uncrossing one arm from over his chest to wave it at her, the nonverbal message clear. Go. He then refolded it, and as he lowered his face to be partially concealed in darkness, his burning eyes told her another one. You better come back.

   Another head nod, and she now found herself standing just outside the open doorway of the grocery store that was the catalyst of this whole mess. Thankfully, the radroaches had taken their leave, and so she scurried around inside with the light of her Pip-Boy until she found a carton of dirty water. She would come back for the rest of the goodies after smoothing over her little(big)...misunderstanding.

   “Here.” She came back and held it out, forcing herself not to flinch as he took it from her hand. “Sorry it’s not purified; I hope that’s okay...”

   She then watched as he took a swig, and then dumped the remainder over his black boots to rinse off the vomit.

   Oh.

   “Hey, who the hell is this?”

   The unknown voice forced her to squint through the darkness around him, and the big ghoul slightly turned his head to address the question. She could make out another ghoul, no, two ghouls, both armed and noticeably skittish. The one wearing some cracked spectacles lifted a necrotic finger directly at her.

   “This isn’t part of our deal. What the hell is Ahzrukhal trying to pull? You trying to blow our whole operation?!”

   Evelyn wished she could have simply melted into radioactive goo to dissolve through the floor. This was all blowing way out of proportion- she was just trying to get to that stupid fucking Super-Duper Mart!

   The big guy halfway blocking her appearance cracked his neck with a sharp tilt to the side, and then ignored her existence entirely as he turned his back to her. Apparently, she wasn’t even considered to be a minor threat to have him expose himself as such. When he began to march towards them and she slowly (and unsuccessfully) tried to sneak back outside, the spectacled ghoul raised his voice so loudly it made her jump.

   “Whoa there smoothskin, where are you going? Get over here.” He then murmured something to his rifle-toting partner, both keeping sharp eyes on her timidly advancing form. “That’s right, nice and slow, don’t get all jumpy.” He briefly turned to the big guy. “You were just going to let her scram?”

   Evelyn felt incredibly small under all of their glowing stares as she halted within a reasonable distance.

   The red ghoul studied her for a moment with bored interest, a complete 180 from his previous smolder. “She is not with me.” For a second time, he turned away from her. “Let us continue.”

   “Yeah, hold on a second, you’ll get your chems.” The ghoul went to bypass around, but he was grabbed by the shoulder. Even from her spot, she could tell it wasn’t a friendly gesture by any means.

   “Now,” the big guy growled. He ignored the one with the gun aimed at him and spun the smaller one around. “Do not keep me waiting.”

   “Alright- alright. Barrett,” he addressed his partner, wincing as he felt the iron grip tighten, “bring her inside.”

   She stiffened as he came around from behind, bumping her with the barrel of his gun. “C’mon, and don’t try anything, smoothskin.”

   Oh my God, I’m going to get raped, or eaten, or-or-

   A million scenarios whirled around inside her noggin, resurging a new wave of cortisol and adrenaline through her nerve endings at the endless possibilities of how this shitty day was going to get exponentially shittier. She followed them down the tunnel, rounding through a service door that opened up to some sort of makeshift drug den. The ghoul addressed as Barrett forced her to stand in a corner, and she hugged her arms close to her chest while she quietly observed them with wide eyes.

   “Here.” A large duffel bag was set on one end of a table, followed by an equally impressive sack of caps on the other. She didn’t think it was possible to carry around that much money. “Nice doing business with you.”

   The red ghoul unzipped the bag for a peer inside at the wares, being methodical and taking his time as he inspected the stash.

   “Jesus, what? Ahzrukhal suddenly not liking his stock?” the ghoul noted with irritation.

   The big guy ignored him and went about his task as though everyone else in the room simply didn’t exist.

   Evelyn scooted herself as close to the wall as she could when the other two finally gave her their attention.

   “Alright smoothskin, you mind telling me who sent you?” the smallest of the three rasped.

   She furrowed her brows. “Sent me? Look, I was trying to get to the Super-Duper Mart and I...” here she trailed off lamely, feeling heat burning her cheeks, “got lost.”

   “What? Got lost? Where are you coming from?”

   “...Megaton.”

   “Megaton?” The ghoul blinked. “So, you came all the way out here, alone?”

   The implication made her snap her mouth shut before she could respond with something stupid.

   “No...I have friends,” she lied. She hugged herself just a little bit tighter as Barrett’s gaze awkwardly drifted downwards. “They’re waiting for me outside.”

   This seemed to agitate the ghoul even further. “So you did bring someone?!” He scoffed and went about in a craze around the room, beginning to pull items from shelves and place them in assorted bags. “I fucking knew it. We’re going to have to move, damnit.”

   “I won’t tell them you’re here!” she blurted at his unexpected panic. “I’m just trying to get back home. Just let me leave, and you’ll never see me again.”

   “Hah, nice try, smoothskin. I won’t be taken for a fool.” The ghoul tossed something across the room into a bin. “Barrett, go check outside for more of these friends. Tell me what we’re dealing with.”

   The room emptied of just one person, his footsteps swift and muttering peeved. The big guy was still assorting through his inventory...she had completely forgotten he was even in the room; he was so eerily quiet.

   “I’m not here to cause any trouble,” she started, but the ghoul who had quickly left just as quickly entered back inside.

   “She’s lying Murphy. We’re clear for miles around.”

   Murphy paused before shoving a Bunsen burner inside a pack, and instead, he came close to brandish it in her face. “This can go one of two ways, smoothskin, you either start telling just who-”

   A gloved palm landed on his shoulder and cleanly pushed him into some metal shelving. The big guy thrust a finger down at the table where he had set some canisters of jet to the side.

   “These are defective.” He then snapped his eyes at her, his whole aura extremely pissed off. “Get out.”

   Evelyn didn’t argue or question him- not even the other ghoul made a stand- and so she hastily dipped from the room, for once blessing the breath of the cold night air and drinking in its vast open sky.

What's in a Family?

   Being cooked alive wasn’t the first thing she had hoped to wake up to. Then again, sleeping in a dumpster overnight wasn’t exactly ideal in the first place.

   She had booked it for as far as she had dared, flashing her Pip-Boy light around erratically to give it a strobing effect. Creepy skittering and too-close-for-comfort howls made her dive headfirst into the first bin she could find. The freezing temperature, coupled with the echoing sounds of shotgun blasts in the distance, had made her sleep restless. It gave everything a surreal, loopy filter as she struggled to wake.

   She peeled her damp, scroungy hair from her sticky face and crawled out like some scraggly rat, relishing in the slight breeze that rolled on by giving a cool smooch to her throbbing forehead. The crick in her neck stabbed lightning down her spine every time she tried to turn her head fully.

   “Ow,” she muttered as she stretched in place.

   The recount of last night’s embarrassing fiasco made her inwardly cringe, and she almost considered just slinking back inside the dumpster with her fated garbage.

   They could then at least burn together.

   She nursed a warm soda to treat her skull-splitting headache, topped off her nonexistent appetite with some packaged Dandy Boy Apples, and then reached back inside her nest for the metal crate of supplies she had managed to squeak from that grocery store. The screen of her map showed the miserable distance she was forced to make for back home...and, surprisingly, was also the little marker Arefu that Lucy West girl had pinned for her.

   Evelyn raised her eyes- it was just over the ridge.

   Nestled inside her left breast pocket was the letter she had been entrusted with to give to Lucy’s folks (as she had no reason to ever take it out). Lucy did say her father would pay her to act as a courier for them...and caps were something she needed desperately, otherwise; she would soon be forced to sell Wadsworth for parts.

   The metal bin was adjusted uncomfortably against a hip, and she awkwardly began to meander towards the settlement with her goods banging around.

   A disembodied voice called out to her not even five minutes into her excursion. “You aiming to wake the entire Capital with that ruckus?”

   Evelyn whirled her head around to a scavenger waving a friendly gesture from beside a corrugated lean-to shed. She blinked and sheepishly shrugged. “Um. I’m...sorry?”

   Please don’t be a rapistmurdererpsychopath-

   The stranger took in her condition and gently shook his head. “You look like you woke up with the wrong side of a deathclaw.”

   A what?

   If names had anything to bear out in this wasteland, then she fucking hoped to God she would never be able to put a face to it.

   “Don’t worry about me none,” he continued, mistaking her visible fear for himself. “I’m a local trader that sells some odds and ends I happen to find.” He motioned with his chin at her box. “Want to make a deal?”

   She bit her lip and glanced down at her wares. Well. If he wanted her dead to loot her corpse, he wouldn’t bother asking...right?

   The entire exchange went more pleasantly than expected, until he jutted a half-tipped thumb over his shoulder to the murky waters just down below his shack.

   “Water’s a bit cold,” he said plainly after he refused her trade of a box of detergent.

   The insinuation made her face burn as bright as a cherry bomb, but she merely gave a meek thank you and doused herself in the frigid lake with her suit still on, scrubbing the stinging (and slightly acidic) soap into her skin till it tickled pink and felt raw. Trailing waterdrops dripped behind her like breadcrumbs as she trudged towards the crumbling overpass just down the road. A handful of caps would hopefully be some sort of consolation prize after everything she had endured in the past twenty-four hours...

   At the very least, it couldn’t be any worse than her puke fiasco.

   Slam!

   The wind from the door being banged shut breezed back her still-damp curls.

   “Oh my fucking God!” she shrieked, retching to the side with stomach-squelching sounds.

   No sooner had she opened the door to the West residence, than did the smell throw a double-fisted punch directly at her face. It was so thick and damp that it was almost palpable. She could taste it- a fuzzy carpet of rot.

   “Gaaaaaaaah!” She dry-heaved a few times before stomping away to gulp down some ‘fresh’ air. She didn’t have to go back inside to deduce what had happened- they were surely dead.

   First, it was scorpions at the mart. Then, it was making beautiful first impressions with a gigantic fucking angry ghoul. Now, it was playing messenger for some old coot whilst discovering her entire reason for even agreeing to help was already stiff.

   Fuck you, Dad.

   Evelyn relayed the status to Evan King, the self-proclaimed mayor of Arefu.

   “Was their son, Ian, among them?” he asked.

   “I don’t know, I didn’t exactly poke my nose inside more than I had to,” she slightly growled. The sun was beginning to climb, and with it, the sweltering heat and migraine-inducing buzzing over the sands. It did wonders to her temper. “...I think I saw two bodies.”

   Evan then proceeded to beg for her help in locating the boy...and her goodhearted, people-pleasing nature said sure, I’ll risk my life for one idiot who’s more than likely dead! She really wished she would harden her resolve and just say no...but it seemed dear old Dad had imparted more than just his abandonment on her.

   She covered her eyes from the sun and squinted at the reflection it gave on her Pip-Boy screen at the two possible locations Ian had been squirreled away to. Both were within a stone’s throw of Arefu, so she tried her luck with the outdoor cinema first. It was a bust, but she took her time in nabbing anything her sticky fingers could find. She placed them all inside a burlap sack the trader from earlier had given her, cramming all the cigarette cartons and toy cars together like some morally askew Santa.

   Trudging down the hill towards Hamilton’s hideaway proved to be a different story- a pack of molerats found her to be a delectable meal. While she didn’t have much of an issue clobbering a couple of the rodents into pulp, half a dozen of them proved too much for her splintered baseball bat alone. She didn’t have time to consider any other choice but barricade herself behind the chain link gate leading into the cavernous lair. The wrinkled oversized rats sniffled around the dirt for a way to follow as she disappeared deep into the mountainside, effectively trapping her within the darkness of this sketchy fucking place until she found another way out.

   She was going to die down here; she was certain of it. Someone was going to come along and find her mottled corpse like she had with Lucy’s parents. They were going to take a single whiff and grimace at the smell of her. If there was any sort of ironic karma in this world, then it was probably going to be the big guy crushing her skull under his boot and wiping the mess from his heel.

   The light from her Pip-Boy cast a sallow glow throughout the underground maze as she painstakingly crept around every corner and pilfered through every crate. Her bag was growing in size with assorted, mostly useless crap. Whatever. As long as it brought in some caps, then she didn’t care...but her aching shoulder muscles soon did.

   A resident radscorpion made her scream (nearly shit her suit) and busted her childhood baseball bat in half. She held up the fractured end of it, blinked twice, then chucked it at the little hissing fucker before slamming her boots along the catwalks in retreat. She turned a corner and tripped over the body of some unfortunate soul, cursing loudly as her goodies went tumbling about. The brief glimpse of a stinger aimed well and high for her face left little time to dawdle in gathering her senses or things, and so she scrambled to her feet and continued to run until she was sure she had lost the bastard.

   ...in which she was also now disoriented.

   Empty rooms full of random corpses belonging to raiders, roaches, and ruffians made for a graveyard of a maze for her to wander about. Stimpaks and caps were greedily stuffed in her jacket pockets till she was just about jingling a tune, luring her old friend back while she was hunched over busily rifling through a dead guy’s coat. Due to some quick thinking and cowardice display, she managed to trap it inside the room and secure the door, leaving her free to regather her dropped supplies...and find a sledgehammer that weighed nicely in her blistered hands.

   Hamilton's hideaway proved to be a dud as well.

   The molerats from earlier had disbanded, and so she returned to Arefu with the full intention of telling Evan King his presumptions were stupid and completely off the mark, but she instead gave a shake of her head (and was given one more possible location as thanks).

   The metro station. 

   The puke was right where she had left it...as were the ghouls, minus the big guy.

   Thank God.

   She prayed she would never see him again lest she die from straight embarrassment.

   “What the hell?! You again?” Murphy remarked after she shyly shuffled back inside their workspace.

   This time, she held up a hand in an amicable greeting and explained her endeavor. They simply stared at her before glancing back at each other, and without explaining himself, the ghoul led her around to a back room and pointed to a manhole cover glossed with glowing radioactive goop.

   “Have fun, smoothskin.” He eyed her bulging goods (in both senses), his apparent lack of shame knowing no bounds. “Hey, you wouldn’t happen to have any Sugar Bombs, would you? It’d be unfortunate to lose them, you catch my drift?”

   She balked. “Why? What the fuck is down there?”

   “Mirelurks.”

   “Mire-what?”

   Now she had a name for those crab monsters...great. How the fuck was she supposed to get past that?!

   As she dumped her wares on the table to offload the sugary cereal, a landmine was picked up by Barrett and overturned in his hands.

   “You want those too? I don’t use them,” she offered.

   The ghoul gave her a thoughtful raise of his brow. “You should.”

   Barrett proved to be a genius. Laying some mines down and luring the shelled pricks made life a fucking mirelurk-cakewalk. She was so overjoyed watching them explode into softshell pieces that she was tempted to run back and gush of the success. The gloomy lenses of her world were suddenly wiped away, she was unstoppable-!

   A snap from a tripwire slapped the drunken happy smile off her face. The explosion nearly blew her off her feet.

   A plethora of clever traps almost laid claim to her life in multiple instances- it was sheer stupid luck she managed by with only a baseball to the shoulder from a pitching machine. A live landmine was defused, a rigged shotgun peppered holes a mere hairsbreadth from her leg...

   When it was all said and survived, she eventually found them, waving her letter for Ian like some holy scripture.

   The Family was fucking nuts.

   Evelyn pursed her lips, politely nodded, and was forced to listen to the inane bullshit spewed a dozen different ways from a handful of eager lips. She was more unpleasantly surprised than frightened at their teachings- weirdos- but she wasn’t about to argue with a bunch of gun-toting bloodsuckers to make her point. The letter was practically shoved in Ian’s face, her point-blank suggestion of using blood packs was accepted, and her backtrack to the lab was much more uneventful a second time around.

   The ghouls were visibly shocked at her miraculous return completely unscathed.

   “Find The Family?” Murphy rasped as she dusted off her knees.

   “I did, phewf!” She stuck her tongue out to wipe some dirt from it. "Not looking to go back, either."

   “Well, well, guess you’re more resourceful than you look, smoothskin.” He crossed his arms, seemingly in deliberate thought. “...you might be the kind of help I need around here. It’ll pay. Interested?”

   She wiped some snot from her chilled nose. It had been so cold in those tunnels! "What sort of help?"

   Another five days, another trip out into the wastes to gather Ahzrukhal’s laundry list of goods. The ghoul could walk these cracked asphalt roads blindfolded- it’d been years since he’d left the Capital Wasteland, and judging by the circumstances in which he was placed here, it looked like he wasn’t packing his bags anytime soon.

   He learned not to dwell on that notion a long time ago.

   Northwest Seneca Station was at his feet almost instantly- his mind tended to blank on the finer details of his routine trip when he wasn’t busy putting lead in something. Under his accumulation of years and experience, he had become a textbook example of walking destruction- a perfect means to an end for his employer’s tastes. It was all his life had become as of late, and he shut himself down in almost every way not to care.

   “Not going to bother checking it, this time?” the ghoul scientist quipped sarcastically when he merely shouldered the duffel bag of Ultrajet.

   Well...almost every part of him.

   Charon gave a heavy stare at his employer’s supplier. With an almost deliberate movement, he set the bag back down on the table with a loud bang, his glowing eyes silently challenging him to argue otherwise.

   “It was a joke...but alright,” Murphy muttered under his breath as he returned to his work.

   The red ghoul inspected the canisters and shook their contents for any tell-tale sign that the depressor was faulty. Charon honestly didn’t give two shits if they were or not- he was simply spiteful, and in an extra sour mood after a feral mongrel had somehow completely taken him by surprise and managed to nip him in the ass. He was sure to bear a few puncture-sized scars because of it. He half-mindedly listened to the blabbering on the side while his hands and eyes operated on autopilot.

   “...we really need those Sugar Bombs, that smoothskin better come through for us.” Charon felt their stares land on his person. “Or Ahzrukhal’s going to have to go back to dealing Jet again.”

   When he was finished conducting his business, he hefted the bag over one shoulder and left without so much as a glance back. The ghoul paused just outside the chain link gate, staring down at his feet where he had previously been defiled by that bizarre fucking smoothskin.

   She was lucky he hadn’t been in a foul temper that day, or there would’ve been a lot more than just half-digested cereal to be cleaned from his boots.

   He knew better. He should’ve kept his mouth shut and absent nose clean; the canisters from the previous visit had been without flaw...he just needed a reason. An excuse.

   He knew better.

   Evelyn felt a creeping chill slither down her spine that instinctively made her turn her head. There was nothing sinister stalking her- that she could see- and so she shuddered the nasty vibe from her shoulders and turned back around.

   She hadn’t attempted the Super-Duper Mart for another few days after the radscorpion high-speed chase. This time, she came somewhat prepared with her repaired sledgehammer (Moira had charged a pretty penny just for some spit, duct tape, and ‘wishful thinking’). Shooting a gun was out of the question- she was the world’s shittiest shot, and the 10mm handgun Amata had given her was still discarded at the bottom of her locker at home.

   The sweat-stained ballcap she wore was fiddled with at the brim while she studied the building from behind a boulder. It looked empty- the scorpions were long gone- but then a person stumbled out cackling manically to themselves before dropping in a stone-cold heap just outside the door.

   They were dead.

   Raiders...nope.

   She dusted her hands together and walked straight back home. Moira was just going to have to convince some other sorry sucker to help with her ‘research’. It wasn’t worth the risk of being beheaded and feasted on.

   She stripped to her skivvies in the sweltering heat and listened to Wadsworth’s exhaust blowing around upstairs as he ‘dusted’. She had virtually done nothing since The Family incident, and she was still left without a single clue as to where her father had run off to.

   Moriarty had offered a snap at some bait for a hundred caps, which she now had...lugging all that scavenged crap back for Moira to fawn over had been so worth the aching back muscles.

   I’m sorry...I thought your dad told you...

   Your father’s the reason for all this!

   Oh my God...you actually opened it...

   She closed her eyes, fiddling with the knobs of her Pip-Boy to replay the voice of her father from the only note he had left behind; his warm, gentle tone filled her otherwise resentful heart.

   Goodbye...I love you.

   A flick of the switch. Rewind.

   Goodbye...I love you.

   Rewind, repeat.

   Goodbye...I love you.

   She curled into a small ball, remembering her first night in this empty house, how she clung to his ghost as though it were an actual visitor to stave off her loneliness. She had been so desperate for that safety net that she had begun to make herself available to anyone with a problem; anything for a chance to have a friend in this big, scary world.

   Goodbye...I love you.

   Evelyn held up her clean suit (fresh from the sink) and snagged a bottle of purified water to deepthroat as she assembled her gear. The hemming was fraying, there were permanent stains marring the golden numbers, and a few grotesquely sewn tears were beginning to threaten a free peepshow of her ass. The leather reinforcements Moira had equipped her with were in dire need of oiling and stitches, neither of which she had the general knowledge to.

   “I’m heading out!” she called up to the floating robot. She swore she heard him mutter and please don’t come back.

   Gob was on her ass faster than a bloatfly on shit, already reaching under the table for her usual before her butt could even warm the seat. She observed him while he popped off the cap, and for once, she didn’t bother reminding herself that it was rude to stare.

   He had indubitably frightened her during their first encounter, but it wasn’t so much as being scared, rather, it was the complete unknown of it all. People like him existed (and so did vampires, now, too). It was something out of a horror holovid or science-fiction comic book, and the fact that he wasn’t the only thing to have changed in this horrid landscape made future ventures a stomach-flopping thought. He was the first ghoul she had met, and before the previous days’ events, the only one she had known.

   “Like the view?” he jested. “I charge extra.”

   She slid the bottle to herself and took a discreet whiff. He winked at her.

   “Set aside the good kind this time,” he rasped in a hushed tone out of earshot from Moriarty.

   A swig of foamy hops raced down her gullet, and she ran her tongue over her teeth. “Does it hurt?”

   “What?”

   She lamely waved the tip of her bottle at him in apology, now feeling incredibly silly. “I’m sorry, that was rude of me.”

   “Nah...don’t bother me none.” He thought for a moment, then shrugged. “It did when it...changed, but not anymore.”

   “Huh.” She tipped her bottle back, noticing the unblinking stare he was giving her in return, except it was more...predatory. She gulped both her beer and nerves. She liked Gob, just, strictly as a mutual gabber. With the way he was eyeing her now, she could clearly translate his end as desiring something else.

   It was as Nova had said- he was sweet...and she wanted to keep it at that.

   The Irish arsehole rounded by them, and for the first (and only) time, she was grateful for his interference.

   “You find your dad yet, kid?” he asked with a condescending drawl. “It’s a mighty big wasteland out there...if you’re ready to cough up the caps, I might just point you in the right direction.”

   Goodbye...I love you.   Evelyn interrupted his shite talk with the bundle of currency she was ready to part from. “Spill.”

[jlf23tumble]

Hi! Do you want to share a list of fics that haunt you? Any pairing! Thank you.

Ohhhh, this is a great ask that I kind of have to rein myself in on because "haunting" can mean angst but also sometimes mean a good time? Meaning you think about it regardless? Anyway, I'll give 21 or so in different categories from off the top of my empty head, thots only, and as usual, a lot of my fave faves are gone, daddy, gone. My other caveat here is that I am DEFINITELY a writer's fan, you can bank on me telling you to obsessively go read anything that, say, Phoenix or Blake have ever written, I can't even choose, tbh, so just do yourself a favor, pick a fandom any of the authors below have written in, and go to town, they're all gems, I say. To keep it fun and spicy, I won't break it down other than by fandom, fuck around and find out, I (also) say!

Let's start with a cheat: gifts for meeeeee! They're all so good, even the ones no longer here, I think about 'em all with a smile

One Direction

Time Passed

Constant Debauchery

Tuxedo Dress-Up

Fertile Ground

call me anything you like, but my name is

hush.

Man From UNCLE

By the Throat

Dog Years

let's start fires for heaven's sake

Mine and Apart

And me underneath

The Untamed

hurricane

Merlin

overwrite this constant void

Star Wars

Burnout

Columbo

In a week (i'll be home with you)

Southern-ish Gothic

A Cornstalk Fiddle

The Young Loves, the True Loves

Snakes and Stones

Cars

As Sweet as Blood Red Jam

Sweet Smell of Success

smoke gets in your eyes

Cobra Kai

Made One Way