#they may sell out quick since there's not that many of them but who knows

[shopwitchvamp]

These designs arrived alongside all the preorder stuff last Friday, so expect them to go up in the shop in a week or two!

sneaking.. peeking....

[throwaway-yandere]

I Got Reincarnated As A Server NPC In An Otome Game But A Capture Target Won’t Leave Me Alone (Yandere!Diluc Ragnvindr/Reader)

a/n: fasghadsa this is my thank-you fic for @poptartsthings for supporting my fics for the past year!!! thank you for the tips huhuhuhu ;;;—;;; hence, I wrote this diluc fic for *clears throat* "mommy milkers". Enjoy this self-aware yandere otome game!duke diluc ragnvindr!!!

unreliable synopsis: what if you got isekai-d in your favorite otome game and one of the Love Interests found out they aren’t a real person? (or, ya know, whatever the title said lmao)

"Bottoms up, Duke Ragnvindr!"

"No matter how enthusiastic you are, I remain inclined to think that this is a horrible idea, (Y/n)..."

Reluctantly swirling a small amount of fire-water while wearing gloves, the duke saw how the alcohol hardly made a wave. Unsatisfied, he diverted his attention and observed the NPC pour their drink.

"In all honesty, your grape juice is worth more than this, (Y/n)–"

"Shush!" With a flamboyant and dismissive wave, the generic common mob silenced one of the Main Characters. "Don't ruin the mood, now. I had to pull a few strings to get this bad boy right here. It’s such a shame that Mister “Best Boy” Albedo can't come, so we have to make sure I get my money’s worth off of these bottles. It’d be such a waste of francs."

"Wasted like the thousand francs wine you clumsily spilled last year?"

"Don't bring that up again, please."

"Why not?" He chuckled. "If you hadn't, I wouldn't have met you."

"If I hadn't, I would've been drinking with Villager B..." They muttered as they grabbed another glass from the cupboard.

He pretended not to have heard it.

They are both aware that their destinies follow different paths. No matter how hard one of them tries to walk next to the other, this cruel fate will separate them with a penalty that is even more agonizing than the last. All because (Y/n) was a real person, and Diluc was not.

Duke Diluc Ragnvindr is this game’s easiest route: the typical childhood friend who falls for the heroine– Princess Lumine– first. In this genre, he falls into the category of those love interests who are incredibly austere with themselves that they were unable to enjoy the small things in life outside work. Ultimately, he follows the cliche of protecting the heroine from harm until she remembers that they used to play together as children in the palace gardens. Which, in itself, is quite a feat since the duke was not a man many could befriend. Unless you count Chief Justice Ajax as his greatest comrade, then perhaps he could finally add item number 11 to his list of trusted people.

The “Duke of the South” only favored audiences for those he was willing to invest in— after all, he’s famously known for having a “good signature.” It may seem like a compliment for uneducated nouveau rich men, but those with an eye for Gaciean politics knew how much power he has as the head of the Department of Military Affairs. Tales about his on-and-off disputes with the Chief Ajax circled as frequently as Teyvat Time’s popular Paimon-The-Friendly-Fae’s comic strips. Some loved his obsession with national security whilst some were quick to call him a pampered weapon hoarder, but if there’s one thing everyone can agree it’s that they fear the southern duke.

Now, after introducing a political figure with crimson locks of hair and domineering combat prowess, it’s certainly a tough sell to introduce the last person left inside: (Y/n) (L/n).

Unremarkably, they’re merely an NPC from Xiangling’s Seaside Restaurant. They’ve “reincarnated” into this world fumbling about like a newborn until the chef offered a job. Fortunately, they were not completely helpless in the kitchen. They had shown off their managerial skills from their old job since day one. Since then, Xiangling had hoped to train them as the new manager, but (Y/n) preferred to take on some responsibilities gradually. After a few days had passed, they abruptly realized that they were "Server C," an NPC with only a character sprite and a scarcely distinguishable name. The red ribbon-theme outfit from their restaurant was the only thing that distinguished them from the other faceless workers. According to what they can recall, one of their tasks is to give the princess's order of candies while she flees from her overprotective retainer, Dainsleif. It was a tense moment in that common route since all three of the princess’ potential suitors were customers from different ends of the restaurant, which were Dainsleif, Kamisato Ayato, and, of course, Duke Ragnvindr.

… Unable to snap out of their initial shock after recognizing that this was one of the game’s CGs and seeing three attractive men inside the restaurant they work at, (Y/n) accidentally broke the script by spilling the wine on Duke Ragnvindr’s coat.

Since then, (Y/n) had trailed and followed the characters whenever they could for their amusement– often helping their favorite love interest, Albedo, set up the scene so they can view his "CGs" in real life. Due to their apparent lack of stalking skills, they had another off-script encounter with the duke whilst doing so. Instead of heading straight to North Gaciea as he had done in the game, he was delayed seven hours after he weeded (Y/n)’s hair out of the bushes they were hiding in. Their first meeting was horrid, and their second almost went in a similar direction. Almost.

Since (Y/n)’s lies were as visible as their head peeking out of their hiding spot, Diluc had them drink a truth potion to uncover why they were stalking the chief alchemist, however…

… Does the phrase “the truth is stranger than fiction” apply in this case when both the earth and the sky are nothing but lies?

Diluc put on a convincing poker face when they babbled about the game they live in, demonstrating both their objectives and, more critically, their in-game omniscience. Albedo is the only love interest who changes into a feral (and subjectively "hot") monster toward the end of the novel, thus (Y/n) was adamant that he be Princess Lumine's ultimate endgame—but going any further in their explanations would be deemed a "spoiler." Additionally, Albedo’s route could only be unlocked once you finished another character’s route first… and that character happened to be Diluc Ragnvindr himself.

———

“In layman’s terms… We are living in a complex romance novel-esque system, correct? And I am the ‘book’ people often recommend to start the series with first before moving on to the sequel?”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

“… and I am just a stepping stone for a happier ending? A pawn? A mere puppet for someone chasing a momentary cure for loneliness?”

“Well, it felt real to me when I played your route—”

“Perhaps, but feelings do not change what is real and what isn’t.” Diluc sighed, unsheathing his dagger to break off the ropes that held the server down.

(Y/n) traced their wrists, appreciating now how gentle he had been when he could’ve gone rougher.

“Diluc…”

He bit his lip. It pained him to hear the server call his name as if they knew him.

They spoke as if they were friends the whole time right after they just revealed that his life is a self-fulfilled prophecy of unrequited romance.

And it was insulting.

———

The two have come a long way since then. He lost his faux feelings for Lumine. After gaining self-awareness, Diluc had begun avoiding what occurs in the game’s plot under the NPC’s guidance. To improve Lumine's chances of acquiring Albedo's route, (Y/n) was more than happy to assist him, so they started exchanging chats that ranged from oblique threats to routine discussions only friends could have.

Even so, (Y/n)’s attempts were futile when Albedo revealed to both of them that he knew he’s also just a character since the day he was “created”, and that “I would greatly appreciate it if you stopped attempting to produce an inorganic chemistry between the protagonist and me.”

…The chief alchemist was a smart one for sure and his confrontation had sobered (Y/n) fully. Although Albedo will never be the princess’ endgame nor will he turn into an apocalyptic dragon, (Y/n) had earned his friendship and started treating the rest of the cast as people and not just characters.

Diluc gazed out the window.

It was late into the night and rain was falling. There was not a single domestic sound emanating from nearby homes, which was a wise choice since annoying harpies would have gathered at the sound of human noises. Birds accosted the drying trees and roofs as fog swept through the streets. With the exception of this seaside restaurant, most stores were noticeably closed. The downpour buried the sound of crashing waves just a few meters outside, so no one would have known that this was close to the beach.

"Huh," (Y/n) stared in the same direction. "Didn’t expect it to rain tonight. Guess you can't escape this cheap alcohol-tasting session, huh?"

In the course of his outdoor nightly training, the head of the Department of Military Affairs grew incredibly resilient against mere storms. "I don’t need an umbrella."

"Fair," they laughed, distinctly human compared to the usual polite chuckles he would hear from leeching nobles. "But oh, dear Duke, if you don't need an umbrella then why are you still here? Is it because you wanted to see me– w-wait hold on—I'm kidding— sit down!"

…

They reached for his arm, but try as they might—

their hand only passed through.

The two stiffened.

Diluc’s breath hitched.

That was proof.

Because of this scripted fate, a commoner like them can't even grasp his hand, let alone touch it. Not when the system outright denies the friendship they have.

An NPC like (Y/n) can’t remain friends with a main character like Diluc once they have fulfilled their role in their story.

Diluc was untouchable.

He closed his eyes. Just acknowledging this pains him.

They both sat back down.

Much like how Diluc had pretended not to hear their comment earlier, (Y/n) also pretended that nothing unreal occurred seconds ago.

"S... So, is there anything else you want with that?" They pointed at his glass. "We have a crap ton of limes and cranberry juice! Oh, but I'm not sure if it would taste that good if we mix it, haha."

He could practically hear them force that laughter right out of their throat. Diluc hurriedly swallowed the fire-water they offered him since neither could stand the awkward tension. Diluc cringed.

"Oh, sorry, was it too strong?" Many nobles who detained the duke with platitudes were met with sarcastic comments, but he never hated (Y/n)’s idea of small talk.

"It's fine." He spoke huskily.

"Does it need lime or any add ons–"

"It's fine."

"... Okay."

The silence was painfully awkward... Perhaps Diluc shouldn't have threatened Albedo to sit this one out. He wanted an opportunity to be alone with (Y/n), and this is far from what he had hoped would turn out. Diluc's forehead creased as he held back what could've been a long somber sigh.

"How's work?" He asked.

"Oh, it's been alright."

That doesn't sound promising. This was a trick up his sleeves to snap them back to a cheery mood. Usually, they’d start rambling about their regulars and watch how endearingly entertaining they are. There should’ve been a quip about Itto’s TCG losing streak or how Kunikuzushi and Kazuha were arguing again over where they should place their tent for their next travels. This time, (Y/n) barely uttered a phrase.

They continued, "I don't suppose I could ask you the same, given that most of your work is confidential–"

"The Holy Kingdom’s crown prince visited North Gaciea today."

"Oh?"

Finally, he could see them smile for just a bit. Of course, they’d be interested to hear about Zhongli since he was the poster boy for the game’s sequel. Fortunately for Diluc, (Y/n) never got to play the game.

"That's wonderful! I was waiting for an English Localization of the sequel for soooo long! Was he hot? I bet he’s gorgeous as fu–"

"No."

"No...?"

"I mean." Diluc cleared his throat. It's barely even a shot of fire-water and he's already getting impulsive. "I meant that I cannot discuss the matter further. I am not like Kaeya. This is confidential, like what you had said."

"Ah..." Their eyebrows furrowed "I see…"

Why did they sound so disappointed?

Is (Y/n)… bored of him?

Diluc digressed, "how's Dainsleif?"

"Dain?" Their nose scrunched. "I haven't seen that poor guy for weeks now. He’s probably escorting Princess Lumine to Justice Ajax’s territory like in the game. Why?"

"Kamisato Ayato?"

"Ah, he ordered a crate of Dango milk yesterday," they laughed softly. "I'm amazed at how that man is barely affected by the script. I mean, I guess that’s to be expected when your route can only be unlocked by choosing three unsuspecting dialogue options. I don't think he talked to the protagonist at all these past two years. You’d think Lumine would’ve raised her wits stat high enough to attract his attention, but alas, Lord Ayato’s still lounging around East Gaciea doing Venti-knows-what."

He wasn’t paying attention to their ramblings. All their names sound bitter in Diluc's mouth. Unlike Albedo and Diluc, the rest of the Love Interests are free to interact with them as an extra. Server C had also performed their last scripted interaction with them, hence, (Y/n) can never touch Albedo and Diluc again.

Retainer Dainsleif of the West, Lord Kamisato Ayato of the East, Chief Justice “Childe” Ajax of the North, Chief Alchemist Albedo of Who-Knows-Where, and Duke Diluc Ragnvindr of the South… Princess Lumine certainly had fine options.

The Duke just wished the otome game scriptwriters would’ve let him have his own choice in the matter as well.

(Y/n) rested their elbows down on the table as they gazed into Diluc's distant eyes.

"Why did you ask?"

Diluc frowned, He admits it— (Y/n)’s eyes are nothing to write home about. When compared to an ephemeral beauty like Princess Lumine, their ordinary (e/c) eyes and visage hardly qualify as "distinctive traits." Their vibrant red ribbon is the only thing separating them from the street's grey residents. Yet he can still tell it's them no matter how big the crowd is. No matter how much they look like an “NPC”, to him at least it was a face worth seeing. Even if they mesh into a blob of slime, he can sense their essence through and through.

Although he can now barely make out the features on their face, nothing on this false earth can convince him that he wasn’t talking to the love of his life.

"I..." Diluc loosened his collar, suddenly growing hot at the intensity of their stare. "I simply wished to learn how the two other Love Interests are doing. I’ve had a chat with Ajax, and he still acts like a quote-on-quote “yandere” as you had explained before."

“Is that all?”

Diluc nodded.

"Ah," They shrugged. "Got my hopes up there– I thought there are other “Wasureta: No More” CGs I haven't seen yet."

Diluc smiled and took a drink.

"Ahh..." He exhaled, his eyelids fluttering shut in the process.

"You okay there pal?" They asked. "I know I said we shouldn't let any of this go to waste but you know I can just store them back home right? Oh, you can have some too but I don't think you'd like so–"

"I'll take a bottle."

(Y/n)’s eyes widened.

"Y-You..." They stuttered, "You sure?"

"Yeah," Diluc mumbled, lying to himself. "It tastes okay."

They grinned. The sight makes his decision all the more worth it.

"Haha, great!" They fist-bumped the air "See? Told ya cheap fire-water tastes good!"

Don’t get him wrong, he's not taking one home because of its taste. He's taking one home because it might be the last memento he'll have of (Y/n).

"Hold on, let me get a ribbon." They opened their palms to stop him from leaving. "Can't give the great Duke of the South something that looks barely presentable now would I?"

They left him with a skip in their steps. Diluc smiled.

Now that he's left alone, he silently wondered:

Just how long can he last before he tells the NPC that he wants to ruin their friendship?

———

———

Along with the sounds of gutted flesh reverberating through the tunnel's dark passageways, a man's hysterical laughter echoed. It was mostly silence in the caves, and there is a strong sense of loneliness upon entering the vicinity. Humans and animals alike would feel as though there is no life inside those walls, but the joyous yet hollow laughter came from the end of the tunnel.

And on the other side, you'll find a red-haired man at his wit's end.

"Tell me..." His words dragged out in a low growl as he grabbed a fistful of the bloody and tattered blonde's greasy hair. The man whimpered from his touch. "Was it fun? Laughing at my misery this entire time? Were you laughing along with them? Lumine, Dainsleif, and all the rest?! Did I put up quite the show there?!"

Crown Prince Aether trembled.

Duke Ragnvindr had everything figured out.

———

“There’s one regret I have now that I’ve isekai-d in this game.”

“What was it?”

“It’s just that,” (Y/n) sighed. “I never really got this game to a 100% completion.”

Diluc raised an eyebrow, unimpressed by their obsession with Wasureta, “and why is that important?”

“Hey! It’s pretty damn important!” (Y/n) grumbled. "Tsk, if only I finished your bad endings… The guides say once you do that, you’ll be able to unlock a secret route.”

“A secret route?”

“Yeah,” they shrugged.

“I’ve read some spoilers from Otomekitten's blog and get this— the last route reveals where Lumine’s brother had been hiding all this time.”

———

The nerves on the back of Diluc's palms were more noticeable as he pulled the poor man closer. Simply put, their faces did not resemble what mankind should look like; rather, they were an animalistic representation of a predator and prey. Hitherto it had disturbed Prince Aether in his rests, but it was too late when he finally acknowledged that something unhinged lay dormant inside the duke.

"P-please..." He coughed. Blood started drooling down the edge of his lips. He assumes that a few of his teeth are likely knocked in, and he can feel his canines prodding inside his throat. "H-have merc–"

With alarming ease, Diluc threw him in the direction of the shelves. The blonde fell and gasped violently when the splintered wood struck his shoulder. The gaping wound on his hips gushed out once more, bleeding onto his carpet and scattered notes. The duke was a monster. He intentionally missed striking his vital organs to prolong his suffering. More blood gushed from his mouth and the prince noisily wheezed out wet coughs.

His Highness has (Y/n) to blame for the hints they gave the duke.

If they hadn't had that conversation, Diluc wouldn’t have figured out that Aether created this “game” world out of grief for his dead sister.

———

“I’ve been alive here for a year or so but I can’t get used to how the harpies in this world look so tame.”

“Hmm? What else were you expecting?”

“Nothing much, it’s just that they look so different in the game’s beta.”

They shrugged. “Fun fact: did you know that “Wasureta: No More” was a fantasy-horror game before the scriptwriters decided to rewrite everything?”

———

"Tsk." Diluc spat and wiped his mouth with his last dirty palm as if there was a major difference. Both are equally soiled with oil and Aether’s blood; it wouldn’t have mattered.

The duke snarled aloud into a burst of savage laughter, "what's wrong, My Creator? Can't even muster up the courage to face your retribution?"

"F-Friend..." Aether called out, hoping to garner sympathy for the Diluc who once looked after both him and his sister at the royal gardens. Hoping to remind him that he was placed number 1 on the list of people the head of Military Affairs had trusted.

"Don't call me that," Diluc's grip on his claymore grew tighter until his knuckles paled.

"Du-Duke..." The blonde looked up. "I can't just... Rewrite this story again..."

"You can," Diluc spoke in a somewhat broken voice. His sanity may be waning, but he cannot deny that Aether was included in the list of the people the duke trusted. "We’re just characters you’ve written. You've done that before. You've done that to Lumine."

"And I r-regretted it!" He sputtered out, accidentally stronger than intended. The blonde scurried to lean against the wall as he feared Diluc would attack him for his offensive tone. "I regretted it. I thought I could revive my sister... I thought that would bring Lumine back into this new world. I thought it would bring her happiness if– if I gave her m-more options–"

"Forced options," Diluc grumbled, rightfully angry at the blonde's interferences. Based on his inference, three of the five suitors wouldn't have been whisked away by Lumine's whims if it weren't for her brother’s influence. And judging by his pained reaction, Diluc would be right.

"But she’s not my real sister.” Aether sobbed. “She never will be— she’s just an image I had of her. And I-I still ended up making this false Lumine more miserable."

"No shit." Diluc snickered with narrow eyes. "You made her miserable—"

The duke just wished he knew where Aether was from the very beginning. He would've had Prince Aether's head before this whole damn game even started.

"And you made me so fucking miserable, Crown Prince," Diluc muttered. 

“I just wanted to be with (Y/n).” He breathed in shakily, “is that so much to ask for?”

"P-Please, listen to me." Aether wept. "Ch-Changing someone's fate brings more harm than good!"

THUD.

Aether shook as a claymore thrust through the concrete just a hair beside his ear. He gulped under the towering gaze of those piercing red eyes. They glowered over him, and they were far from pleased. Aether was too terrified to look away as he saw how Diluc's eyes spiraled into the abyss. The air was thick with heat emanating from Diluc’s pyro-abilities. The sound of the metal rang in the prince’s ears like a warning, thus, the strength in his shoulders weakened and his muscles have gone mushed as he cowered down.

Changing fate brings more harm than good? What a joke. By the looks of it, letting fate run its course only puts the prince in greater turmoil.

Maybe Diluc should offer his head to Her Highness. It doesn't matter whether he lived or died, does it not? If she's so desperate to find the missing prince again, it wouldn't even matter what state his casket is in.

"Di–"

Aether couldn’t breathe.

"Don't struggle."

Diluc effortlessly slid the prince's entire body up the wall after grabbing his throat. Aether's feet curled up as he struggled to steal a breath. He tried to kick and claw Diluc's arms away, but the man stood his ground. Ruby eyes continued to pursue him with an icy rage that Aether was all too familiar with.

The fact that they both placed a lot of faith in one another was a mistake.

Aether's eyes started to tear up involuntarily. Diluc spoke those words as if they weren't threatening remarks, but a merciful command. Yet it doesn't change the fact that he intended to assassinate the prince with his bare hands. Aether began balling up his fists and striking him, but it was ineffective.

"..."

Diluc coldly watched his stomach bleed out like a student dissecting a frog.

Aether's vision clouded. As he flailed his limbs like a wild animal, dark blotches started to appear in his line of sight. His fingers are unwittingly clawing at everything as the adrenaline starts to kick in. Aether never wished to harm a soul, but at that moment he was aiming for Diluc's eyes.

His survival instincts kicked in.

He can't die.

Not like this.

"Si–..."

Lumine. Sister.

Aether needed to apologize to his sister.

He still hoped to say sorry— sorry for leaving her to run a kingdom alone— sorry for not being able to save her in the original timeline— 

sorry for resetting and rewriting the game just to see her alive and happy again.

Aether had so much unfinished business piled up. So many discoveries he has yet to pen down. He can't die here. He mustn’t.

He grabbed something. A fleeting crimson near his assailant's collarbone.

Was it Diluc's hair?

He pulled harder. All his strength was wasted on that sliver of red hope. Anything that would get his assailant to stop.

And Diluc did. His grip on Aether's throat loosened as the prince fell back on the floor. Aether wheezed, his vision slowly returning to him. His bated breathing echoed inside the room as his eyesight returned to him. When the prince's eyes finally focused sharply, he saw silk.

This wasn't Diluc's hair, it was–

"(Y/n)’s ribbon."

Diluc used the very same ribbon (Y/n) to decorate a bottle of fire-water with to tie up his hair.

Aether shivered.

"It seems like you wanted to choose your death."

Oh fuck, oh fuck.

Aether looked up. He shouldn't have looked up.

Duke Diluc Ragnvindr's face was red with a grin uncannily reaching his ears to a degree that shouldn't be possible. His expression was akin to a lovesick young adult twisted to its extremities. He appeared to look excited. To think that he burns up by just a mention of this person’s name makes Aether sick to his stomach.

"Allow me to heed your last wish, Your Highness."

The prince felt his whole body tense up as Diluc wrapped the ribbon around his neck.

Diluc did not give him any more room to breathe as if his body was moving automatically.

This wasn’t Diluc Ragnvindr anymore.

His eyes were empty. 

This was a man possessed.

"Ch...de..." Aether forced out his last words as the ribbon quickly wrung around him.

"S..ve... my... s....ter"

———

———

Diluc only pulled out of his trance after he started washing the blood off his hands. Elzer subsequently informed him that the duke had entered the manor bloodied and unkempt with no recollection of how he got there and that he had strolled carelessly to the restroom like a corpse. There was a commotion across the entire Ragnvindr manor and rumors that he had lost an unpleasant duel quickly circulated. Better that than the truth, he supposed. Even his memory of what transpired in Aether's basement is hazy. Diluc only had their red ribbon and the idea of winning in his mind. He refused to let things continue as they are.

It wasn't until he started drying himself with a towel that he realized that the crown prince perished by his hands.

To think that Diluc used to be so terrified of offending royalties– of accidentally slipping a lese-majeste out of his lips– but now he let a royal's soul slip out of his wrists.

It's invigorating.

Diluc not only tied his fate with theirs, but he successfully managed to cut their ties with those disgusting vermin they call their “regulars.” They can't have them anymore, and they won't even intend to reach out. No one remembers who Server C is. They are now alone together with him. He’s the only person they can depend on. Diluc's breathing heaved lower. Just thinking about their inevitable dependence excites him.

He quietly closed the door behind him.

"Good evening, Server C." He smiled. "Or, should I say, my beloved?"

Just the two of them.

They won't look at anyone else. They can't. The whole world will now feel what he felt when he was unable to touch (Y/n). Only HE has the privilege to hold them now.

It's just the two of them in this world left. After all, there is no statute of limitations once you learn how to play Creator.

Diluc Ragnvindr had successfully rewritten this game’s script.

He no longer carries any in-game responsibilities, much like how there is no Lord Kamisato, Justice Ajax, Retainer Dainsleif, and Chief Albedo that exists in this “script.rpy” file.

It’s just him and his beloved server, alone.

Diluc wiped his mouth. He's practically dro– no, his mouth is literally watering at the thought. Diluc's heart is pounding, almost threatening to break free from his ribs.

"I’m all you have now, (Y/n)." Diluc's gaze softens. "Isn't that wonderful?"

His hands reluctantly traveled under their blanket where their hands should be, scared that when he reaches out, he'll feel nothing there.

He felt their warmth.

Diluc grinned tearfully. He can finally touch them again. He felt their fingers crossed miraculously against his own.

"You’re so warm..."

He gently rubbed their calloused hand against his cheek.

No matter how overworked or ragged these hands were from washing the dishes, for him, they were silk to touch. So soft. So vulnerable.

Diluc swallowed his saliva with great difficulty. God. They’re so vulnerable right now. So peaceful. So fragile. His breathing increased in volume. He could just take them right here–

His bottom lip started to bleed. He was doing everything in his power not to cave in but his throat was starting to get parched. He breathed in deeply.

Not now. Please, not right now. Not when they probably don’t remember who he is.

Diluc wanted to see the look on their face as he finally kisses them. What expressions will they make? It's not fair to both of them to steal such a moment when they’re asleep. That's not what he had been waiting for. Not what he's been craving.

"My beloved, you're a beauty from afar, but you're even more flawless in my arms," Diluc muttered over their ear.

"And I'll do everything in my power to let it stay that way. Fate and the entire world be damned."

-----------

A/n: want to read more of this in a visual novel form? It's here :)

Edit: HERE'S THS IMPROVED SPRITES AND OVERALL UPDATED GAME!!!

[starmocha]

Hi there. I'm back with theory #3 for Sylus' myth. Which....might be less evidence-heavy than the first two and really just me talking out of my ass. I started writing at midnight because that's just on brand clown behavior of me 🙃 ANYWAY...

People who haven't read Rafayel, Xavier, and Zayne's myths, please tread carefully, because I will touch upon them briefly and allude to events in their myths.

Quick recap from first post:

Theory 1: Sylus and MC must have been destined lovers in a past life, but due to whatever conflict, Sylus decided to break his bond with her for her protection and accept any punishment that comes with it, which could mean to be ruler of a place he has no desire for, an imprisonment of sort.

Theory 2: Destined lovers, but perhaps a third party interfered out of jealousy or spite. Could Sylus have been caught and framed of a crime and been literally imprisoned, thus forcing him and MC to separate?

So...I half-joked in a post that my new theory is that Sylus sold his soul to the devil. Or, you know, maybe he is the devil himself. This is partly stemmed from the Long-Awaited Revelry trailer, which has the word "demon" over a shot of him and later in the same trailer, one of Sylus' companion forms is aptly titled "Otherworldly Visitor". Make of that as you will.

And with the new trailer for No Defense Zone, we see that Sylus' right eye glows in a demonic way, similar to his in the LAR trailer. Even the atmosphere in both scenes seem a bit supernatural. Now....I didn't want to go there, but, um................do you suppose he is an incubus? 😭😭😭 The shot after "demon" has the word "desire," which can have a sexual connotation.

For those who don't know, an incubus is a male demon who preys on women sexually.......it would explain his kinky behavior in NDZ 💀 but I digress.......

Some of the first lines we hear from Sylus:

"Even if you wanted to sell your soul, you still have to find someone who can pay the price."

"Want some help? Yes? No? Maybe so?"

These lines reinforce the idea of "deal with the devil". In the new theme song, Visions opposées, the singer also sings this line: "Mais c'est le prix à payer" (But that's the price to pay). It could just be figurative, or it could hold some literal truth, because I found it interesting how that verse overlaps with Sylus' scenes. I doubt it's a coincidence since the devs are so good at planting seeds.

From the chorus, in order, we hear:

[MINOR RAFAYEL, XAVIER, & ZAYNE SPOILERS]

"But that's the price to pay / o'love" - Rafayel, God of the Sea, is separated by MC. His price? His civilization.

"Stars will always shine / But with pain" - Xavier and MC are separated (side note: I don't have the second half of Xavier's first myth yet, so I can't elaborate too much. But I've seen enough references to understand the scene depicted in the MV)

"Though separated / Hearts cling on" - Zayne (The Foreseer) is separated from MC in many lifetimes. The memories of their love are tied to the jasmine flowers even if they forget.

[END SPOILERS]

"That's the price to pay / Yet lovers endure forevermore"

This is the verse that plays over Sylus' scene. What is his price? Does the following verse mean that he and MC must always endure something? Hardship? Misfortune?

When the chorus repeats a second time near the end, all of the above verses coincide with the intended love interest. It absolutely can be argued that all four love interests paid a price for their love, and not just Sylus. This whole tangent was brought up to follow with the whole "deal with the devil" aspect. As stated previously, I wouldn't be surprised if the devs and songwriters intended for the lyrics to have layers upon layers of meaning in relation to the stories.

Also take into consideration the lyrics from the song in Sylus' first official trailer, Tangible Shackles:

The outlaw again celebrates this encounter in fate It's time to break the seal they set in mind It's time they will have to pay the price

To me, though, in this song, the verse sounds very vengeful. It sounds almost vindictive, as if someone must be punished for whatever wrongdoing done against Sylus.

Watching the interview for Visions opposées, it seems the LADS team has shared enough of the intended stories for the songwriters to understand and pen the songs we hear. I trust that there will be complete clarity to the lyrics once we're able to understand Sylus' myth.

Love is the privilege of mortals

A gift the gods covet in vain

Astra, you ass, is that you

Now remember the first official trailer for Sylus? Yeah. Long-Awaited Revelry. Do you know what "revelry" mean? 'Cause I sure as heck didn't and kept wanting to read it as rivalry

revelry. noun. a situation in which people are drinking, dancing, singing, etc. at a party or in public, especially in a noisy way. — Cambridge Dictionary

To put it simply, "long-awaited party," which with the new knowledge of the timeline of scenes shown, we can clearly see a scene of MC entering a ballroom where Sylus is at in the trailer.

What type of party is this? Long-awaited? Maybe an engagement? In the MV, you can catch a brief glimpse of guests in the background watching MC enter. It seems almost like Sylus is waiting to show her off. The dance they share also seem intimate, and Sylus' expression is very soft and tender.

Previously, I alluded that it looks like MC and Sylus' wrist are bounded by a thread, similar to the Red Thread of Fate, but afterwards, I had my doubts, and if in keeping with the theme of being trapped, perhaps they were actually cuffed? I have previously mentioned that handcuffs have shown up often in the trailers.

To be cuffed together makes it seem like it wasn't a choice for one or both people. Kind of pondering if maybe MC might have sold her soul to Sylus, thus becoming bounded to him?

I have also made a lot of references to the myth of Hades and Persephone previously (still holding onto it with every fiber of my being tbqh), BUT for the sake of this third theory, let's revise the above scene to mean...

Sylus, a demonic creature, is trapped on the dark side while MC is a mortal on the light side (mortal realm). He knows their love can never be, so he forces whatever bond they made together to break, setting her free to remain in the mortal realm while he remains trapped in the Underworld.

Interestingly, Sylus conjures up a gun, pressing it to his chest where his heart would be. And he makes MC shoot him. ....thus breaking their bond? Or killing him idk man

This appears to be the following appearance of him after he is shot in his chair:

I'm sorry if this seems out of left field and my mind works in a weird way, but.....the scene above kind of made me think of the Roman/Greek myth for Cupid/Eros and Psyche. Rather, I was thinking of the scene where after her jealous sisters manipulated her and planted seeds of doubts, Psyche betrays her husband's trust and broke her promise to not view his face and learn of his identity. She carries a dagger with the intention of killing him.

In the aforementioned myth, Psyche does journey into the Underworld during a final trial set forth by Cupid/Eros' mother, Venus/Aphrodite. Other than that, there might not be many other correlations I can make in regard to the scene depicted in Visions opposées.

Speaking of Cupid (Roman name, but aka Eros in Greek mythology), however, it's also worth noting that Cupid was described as a "demon of fornication" by some mythographers. Take this part with a grain of salt since this was due to adapting the Roman myth for Christian usage. I do, however, vaguely recalled in some Greek/Roman myths, Eros/Cupid was viewed as devious by the other gods due to him being able to make both mortals and the gods fall in love depending on his whims, be it out of mischievousness or malice.

So....Cupid....God of desire....erotic love.............that earlier incubus comment I made?? 😭 This part I am definitely pulling out of my ass. 💀 Let's just wrap this post up. 🫠

If we look at the myth from the angle that Sylus is a demon, then....

Theory 3: Sylus is a demon who has come across MC, and for whatever reason, she is desperate to make a deal with a demon, thus bounding herself to him. Perhaps over time, Sylus grows to adore her, but maybe MC betrays his trust, whether it be intentional or at the manipulation of others? Could he have tested her when he made her shoot him? Was he willing to die for her, even if it's at her hands?

Uhhhh.....yeah. This theory seems more far-fetched. 🫠 Well, thanks for your time! If any of the crumbs I've presented stirred any theories from you all, I'd love to hear it! Bye. 💕

[canonical-transformation]

Genshin ships: stock market update (Natlan Act 1+2)

(Warning: May contain spoilers for character appearances and dynamics in [Chapter 5 Act 1–2] Flowers Resplendent on the Sun-Scorched Sojourn and Black Stone Under a White Stone. Previous entries here.) This is for entertainment purposes only and is not financial advice: consult with your ship financial advisor before you invest.

4.0 has landed, and our analysts have been watching with interest as Natlan characters have started listing on the Genshin ship market. Here's our recommendations for the weeks ahead.

---

Citlali/Mualani is held together by a single drip marketing quote, but what a quote. BUY OR HOLD.

Mavuika/Xilonen, on the other hand, does not have a proven profit model. No, the potential for a ship name that sounds like "melanin" isn't reason enough to invest. SELL

(Note: Since Xilonen's drip marketing has landed, let's take a second to examine all the cat themed ships. Xilonen/Dehya and Xilonen/Kirara are too hard to call this far out. Xilonen/Lynette and Xilonen/Diona have boring chemistry, SELL / don't bother. And Xilonen/Keqing... oh Keqing would hate her. Hmm. Watch this space, HOLD OR BUY.)

(No, not all cat related ships find success. The recent bankruptcy and dissolution of Osse/Neko should be proof enough.)

Kachina/Bennett — ⚠️ we typically don't cover selfcest ships because there are too many of them. In this case, we'll make an exception to note it's extra unlikely. They're both too busy having coming of age stories and joining each other's teams (not a euphemism) to have any chemistry. SELL.

Kachina/Lumine, Kachina/Aether — sorry, the Traveller is already too busy being the Wise Old Mentor in the first book of Kachina's YA trilogy. SELL— wait does that mean Traveller's going to die 😐

Mavuika/Lumine, Mavuika/Aether — Constantly inviting us to drinks, her shout or Traveller's; long private chats about the family she never talks about to anyone else; giving up her antiques collection as a show of commitment: that is textbook mid-40's cool aunt flirtation. BUY BUY BUY.

Kinich/Mualani — our analysts describe this as "the equivalent of buying the first thing you see in the store", which I think means SELL.

Atea/Mavuika — There's definitely a little chemistry there, but we're unlikely to see further developments. HOLD OR SELL

Atea/Aether — HOLD OR SELL

Atea/Lumine — HOLD OR BUY. If haircuts had sexualities[...]

Small cap market ("rarepairs")

Mualani/that one bandit in her character teaser: nah, no chemistry, she's like that to everyone who tries to rob her. SELL for two-sided, HOLD OR SELL for one-sided.

Tenoch/Tupac — yeah that's been solid enemies to lovers ever since Talking Stick dropped in 4.0. The character model reveals for both of them have only increased the quality here. BUY

Chaac/Waxaklahun Ubah Kan — SELL. Way too early. If you're interested in obscure antiques maybe try Alain/Rene or Marfisa/Parsifal instead?

On that note, our analysts were intrigued by the Heroes of Cinder City. “It's an OT5 RPG adventuring party!” they explain, “like all those tabletop podcasts!” They were, however, quick to note that this was in the same potential rocky area as all Cataclysm-era ships, so HOLD at best.

Little One/Ushi — yeah sure why not. BUY

But coverage of the world quests will have to wait for a future report. In the meantime, let us know what your market predictions are!

Sidebar: phonetics

Wikipedia provides charts for converting writing systems (e.g. romanisations of languages) into the international phonetic alphabet. Below are examples for a couple of languages found across the Pacific Ring of Fire.

May your phone calls with your ship stockbroker be tienari-free!

[pinkrose787]

Trolls: A Twist in Time Chapter 1

Do y'all remember the sample I posted like two months ago? Well, I finally finished it! :D

Ao3 Link

Fic Summary: Creek hates the way that his life has gone, but with the use of a magic scrapbook he's able to right the wrongs of his life. Now, in this new timeline he's married to Poppy and is king of the Pop Trolls. Meanwhile, Branch's life has gotten, so much worse. But Creek's good fortune can't last for long. The previous timeline was not erased and echoes throughout the new one. Leaving both Branch and Poppy with the feeling that something has gone horrendously wrong, and the need to figure it out.

Chapter 1:

Trolls are forgiving, almost to a fault. Pretty much anyone can be forgiven for anything. From teens who tortured trolls for fame, rulers who tried to mind-control everyone, and even a society that ate trolls for generations all can be forgiven.

But you sell everyone out to be eaten ONE time, and suddenly you’re branded as a monster for the rest of your life.

At least, that’s the way Creek views it.

Sure, they let him back into Pop Village only a couple of months after his betrayal. All of them told him that they forgave him. Their actions spoke differently. His closest group of friends shut him out.

They weren’t outright rude to him, but they kept him at arm’s length. And the rest of Pop Village wasn’t much better. No one wanted to get close to the traitor.

What really made Creek’s blood boil was that Branch, the rude hateful loner, seems to have taken his place as one of the most loved trolls in Pop Village. All of Creek’s closest friends became Branch’s closest friends.

These trolls, who had for years sat with Creek and trash-talked Branch with him, acted like they hadn’t said so many horrible things about him behind his back. Not like saying things behind Branch’s back was hard, given that he was practically a cryptid.

And there hasn’t really been a social reprieve for him. When he heard about TrollsTopia, he hoped that this would mean a new start for him. New trolls who wouldn’t know about the little mistake he made.

But like most things in his life, that wasn’t how it went. The new trolls arrived, and the Pop Trolls made quick work of spreading word of what Creek had done around to them. Leading to all of them avoiding Creek too.

But who did these new trolls love immediately?

Branch.

Even when Creek told them about how Branch used to be. All about his rude insults, his isolated ways, how he didn’t even sing for twenty years. These new trolls didn’t even care about that. All they cared about was how Branch had supposedly changed.

But they didn’t give a damn about how he had changed.

Looking at the glowing scrapbook before him, Creek knows that all the misfortune that had befallen him is about to end.

Ever since he heard the rumors about the Scrapbook of Stories, he’d been scouring high and low for it. Searching every single place he could for this mystical artefact.

This scrapbook supposedly contains everything that has ever happened. Each moment in time. Whenever a new event occurs, it is cut and pasted into the scrapbook.

But that isn’t why Creek was looking for it. He isn’t interested in the history that book holds.

No.

The book is said to have a great power. That an alteration to an event in it would alter how it occurred in the real world. This power has been sought out by many whose lives didn’t go exactly how they wanted them to.

Out of all those who have searched for it, Creek may be the only one who has ever found it. He found it by accident. Stumbling into a random unassuming cave on the way to a different cave where the scrapbook was said to be.

To him, finding this scrapbook is fate. It’s the universe telling him that a mistake was made in having him be a traitor. That he deserves a life of love and adoration. That he deserves nothing but the best.

He flicks through the book to the moment that ruined his entire life. The moment that Chef grabbed him from the cage.

Looking at the book, he feels his heart race. He knows that what he’s seeing in the book is merely a depiction of what happened. But it looks so real. It almost feels like he’s back at that moment. Watching Chef’s hand grab him. Knowing that in just a few moments, he’ll be dead.

The whole memory is almost enough to make Creek collapse. But he can’t fail here. Not when he’s so close to success. He sits on the floor and closes his eyes. This panic is nothing that a bit of meditation can’t fix.

While meditating a thought comes to him. Someone else is going to have to take his place. Whether or not they betray everyone, he doesn’t know. The troll who takes his place may die and it’ll all be his fault.

Not that anyone would know.

Besides, he had already made peace with everyone getting eaten before. What’s so bad getting one of his ex-friends eaten?

He wishes that Branch was an option, but he doesn’t feel too confident with meddling with the timeline that much. The amount of alterations needed so that Branch would have been there at the party would be far too much.

It could even lead to Branch being a hero who stops anyone from getting taken in the first place. That isn’t something Creek can risk.

Deciding on who gets taken instead of him is difficult.

Truthfully, he doesn’t fully hate any of his old friends. Even though they did toss him aside like a piece of garbage in favor of Branch, who didn’t deserve to be friends with any of them.

Eventually, he lands on DJ Suki. Out of everyone in the cage, she and Creek were never really that close. Sure, they were in the same friend group. But they themselves weren’t really friends.

Creek opens his eyes. He looks at the scrapbook that sits before him. The page no longer scares him. He peels off his and DJ Suki’s figure and swaps their places.

A flash of light briefly blinds him. A wind whips past him.

He finds that his memories have been rewritten. Now, he remembers being on the inside of that cage watching as DJ Suki sold them all out to Chef. Trying to justify what she did as protecting her family.

But Creek knows the truth. He stood where she did. The choice to sell everyone out was a selfish one borne out of fear.

It’s strange, but he still retains the memories of the unaltered timeline.

He wishes that those memories would be washed away and replaced with a new happier life. Indeed, his life in this timeline is a happier one. His friends still love and adore him. His family still talks to him.

But there is one terrible caveat.

Branch’s life is far better than it deserves to be. He’s still the beloved hero. Him and Poppy are still the “it” couple of the entire Troll Kingdom. Worst of all, because of his relationship with Poppy, he’s probably going to become the King of the Pop Trolls.

Branch? As a king? There couldn’t be a worse candidate. Honestly, Creek will be doing everyone a favor by breaking up Branch and Poppy.

He needs to stop Branch from joining Poppy on her mission. For the life of him, he can’t figure out when Branch joined Poppy.

More importantly, he can’t figure out why he’d join Poppy. Branch was as much of coward as he was. There is no way he would willingly go with Poppy on what should have been a suicide mission.

Flicking through the book, he finds the anomaly. When Poppy tells Branch about Chef’s attack, he pulls her into his bunker.

An action that makes no sense to Creek. Branch had never let anyone into his bunker ever. He’d made it clear that if there was some horrible attack or apocalypse then everyone else was on their own.

Nonetheless, it doesn’t matter. Because now he knows the moment that made Branch the hero. Letting Poppy in. All he has to do is make it so that Branch doesn’t let her in.

If he doesn’t let her in, then Poppy never lets the entire village into his bunker, and if his bunker isn’t invaded then he has no reason to follow Poppy.

So that’s the change he makes. Branch doesn’t let her in.

The book flashes. A wind blows through the cave. Creek has new memories of this changed timeline.

Except it’s almost exactly the same as the last one.

Branch still followed Poppy. He still helped her out. In fact, he lets other trolls into the bunker himself? If anything he’s more of a hero in this timeline. This shouldn’t have happened.

He flicks forward trying to figure out what made Branch follow her. There isn’t anything specific. Branch stands in bunker for a moment, then gathers supplies to start following Poppy.

There’s nothing here that he could change to make Branch stay behind.

His thoughts race. What could he could possibly change that would make Branch not follow her?

He stares at the page where Branch doesn’t let her in. Perhaps this is where the issue is. For whatever reason, Branch seems to want to follow Poppy. So, maybe if Poppy never went to Branch, then he wouldn’t have followed her.

Creek peels off Poppy’s cutout of the scene.

The book glows once more. The wind whips past him once again.

Creek goes through his memory of this new timeline. Now, he’s finally gotten somewhere. This timeline is how things should have gone. Everything is exactly as it should be. 

Satisfied with the way things have changed. Creek walks out of the cave towards his new and improved life.

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

The bunker is silent as it always is. There’s no music. No talking. No friends. Nothing. Things are as they always were. And as they always will be.

Branch is doing another inventory check on his rations. It’s one of the only pastimes that he really has. The others being bunker maintenance, solving jigsaw puzzles, and staring at the wall.

Ever since the 20th anniversary party, he has only left the bunker a handful of times in fear that a bergen would return. He had tried to warn everyone. He told all of them that if they made too much noise, the bergens would come. And they did.

From the times, he’s gone up on supply missions he’s seen that life in Troll Village has remained mostly the same.

Mostly.

It has a new name, TrollsTopia. There’s new trolls from far away that don’t know about the dangers of the bergens. But whenever Branch tries to warn them, they don’t listen. Writing him off as a crazes paranoid weirdo.

So, even though they look different and act slightly different, they are still the same as the others.

The closest thing to contact with other trolls that Branch has had in a while is Poppy leaving invitations on his doormat. He hasn’t talked to her in a couple of years. Not since the night of the bergen attack.

Still, the invitations have never stopped. Somehow, she hasn’t given up on him.

He hates that she went to Bergen Town alone. If she’d come to him, he would have followed her. There is no way that he would have let someone as sweet and kind as her go somewhere so dangerous by herself.

At least, that’s what he tells himself. But would he have really?

All his time is spent in a bunker in fear of the monsters that Poppy went to confront. He has a panic attack if he’s too far from his bunker. If he’d have followed Poppy, he probably would have slowed her down with his fear. Maybe it’s better that he didn’t follow her.

A wind flows through his bunker.

Branch stops what he’s doing. He is deep underground. There is no reason for there to be a breeze.

Unless, there had been some terrible failure, like part of his bunker collapsing. Not only that, but a horrible feeling of dread has overcome him. A feeling that something has gone wrong, not only with his bunker but with his life.

He does a sweep of his bunker. Checking everywhere that he can to make sure that everything is fine.

And everything is.

The only thing that’s out of place is that there’s one of Poppy’s invitations on the ground. The wind must have knocked it off the shelf.

Branch picks it up. Out of all the invitations Poppy has ever given him, this has to be his least favorite. It’s the invitation to her and Creek’s wedding. They got married a year after the bergen attack.

He didn’t go. He tells himself that the reason he didn’t go, is that he was afraid of another bergen finding the village and attacking again. That no wedding is worth getting eaten over.

But that’s not the truth. At least, not the whole truth. 

The truth is seeing Poppy get married would have been too painful for him. He loves her. He has for a long time. And yes, he knows that there was zero chance of Poppy ever returning his feelings.

But there was always some stupid part of himself that held on to the hope that one day, maybe they could be together. The wedding was just one big reminder that a relationship with Poppy would never happen.

At least, Poppy is with someone who won’t drag her down like Branch would. Or ruin her reputation like being with Branch would. Her and Creek are the well-loved power-couple of TrollsTopia.

Branch puts the invitation back up on the shelf where it belongs. He doesn’t know why he keeps it up. All it does is remind him of his heartache. Throwing it away would rid him of this reminder.

But he finds that he does not have it in him to get rid of it. Poppy made it for him. And for that reason, it’s too special for him to throw away.

So, he lives his life with a reminder of his unrequited love on the shelf staring at him every day.

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

Poppy sits on her bed in her and Creek’s pod scrapbooking. Her favorite BroZone song is playing on her record player. This is a rare moment of downtime for her.

All the responsibilities of being queen pull her every which way almost all of the time. Nd ever since she founded TrollsTopia, those responsibilities have multiplied. With her having to deal with thousands of more trolls than normal.

Sometimes, she wishes Creek would help out more with the responsibilities. He is the king after all.

Whenever she talks to him about maybe taking on more responsibilities. His response is always the same. He tells her that she is a much better ruler than him, so she should be the one to bear most of the responsibilities.

On some level, Poppy thinks that’s unfair. They should be handling the responsibilities of royal life together.

Then she reminds herself that Creek has his own life to live. Being king was never in his cards. That was until he married Poppy. It feels unfair to expect him to take on a massive responsibility just because he married her.

Still, some help with ruling would be nice.

As she scrapbooks, she thinks about going to see Creek.

Right now, he should be holding his afternoon yoga class. It’s been a while since she’s been to one of Creek’s yoga classes. Despite them being married, she’s struggled to find the time to go.  

She pauses her scrapbooking and gets up. Since, she hasn’t gotten much time off, she might as well spend the little free time that she does have with her husband.

A wind blows through her pod, scattering the piles of colorful construction papers around the room.

“Oh no!” Poppy says.

She races to pick up all the stray papers. The entire pod is covered in rectangular polka dots of construction paper.

One of the papers she picks up is an invitation for one of her closest friends, Branch. Well, sort of on her of closest friends.

It’s been a long while since they talked. Or since she’s really seen him. He doesn’t go out that much anymore. She knows that he’s scared of the bergens returning. But there’s nothing she can do to allay his fears.

So, she still makes him invitations hoping that one day, he’ll start showing up.

Everyone tells her she should give up on Branch. With Creek being the most vocal about giving up on him. He tells her that Branch is only going to bring her down. That everyone would be better off if he stayed down in his bunker and stewed in his own misery.

But Branch is one of her oldest friends. She can’t give up on him. Even if he hasn’t always been the nicest to her.

If she does, then Branch won’t have anyone. Everyone will have given up on him. Then he’ll never come out and be happy. Instead, he’ll stay down there and be sad and lonely forever.

Recently, she’s started to understand what it’s like to feel lonely more and more. 

It doesn’t make sense to her. She is constantly surrounded by such great friends who love her so much. And whom she loves so much back. And she has a great husband who is always there for her.

Right?

There are moments when Poppy wishes she had Creek by her side. Days when she’s needed him, but he’s off somewhere else.  He always give her excuses. Tells her that he’ll be there for her next time.

But when next time comes, he is nowhere to be found.

Poppy looks at her wedding band. The golden band stands out on her pink hand. She wonders if marrying Creek was a mistake. Maybe she was meant to be with someone else.

No.

She loves Creek so much. She’s happy that she is married to him. There’s no one else in the whole wide world that she would rather be with.

Still, there’s this lingering feeling that there’s something wrong with her marriage to Creek. She doesn’t know what though. She doesn’t want to think about what could be wrong. If there is anything wrong at all. Which there isn’t.

Everything is fine.

And since everything is fine, she has no reason to worry.

Being here in the pod alone is probably what’s making her think that. She places the invitation in her hair and heads out of the pod. First, she’ll give the invitation to Branch, hopefully in person, though if she can’t then she’ll leave it on his doormat. Then if she has time she’ll see Creek.

While running these errands, this feeling of things being wrong will go away. At least, it should.

She isn’t sure what she’d do if it doesn’t. 

[deathscastleofficielle]

Life in Brennenburg was hard enough for Stephano, Mr. Chair, Piggeh, and Jennifer before Pewdie arrived, but after he leaves the remaining members of the Bro Army are left fighting the battle he started with the Barrels, as well as trying to survive the monsters. That's not even to mention the ordinary dangers of starvation, the cold, and illness. However, things only get more complicated when they begin to uncover dark secrets that may have been better buried with their corpses. It all starts when brothers reunite, and an enemy from within emerges.

"If you like angsty anime and were on deviantart in the early 2010s this fanfic is for you!" - @thesucessorofficalnot, someone who still has a tumblr from 2016, author of "Amnesia: The Successor"

"Scout LaViolette manages to capture personalities from 2012 in a way that not only feels natural, but canon to said characters. It truly feels like THE story of the characters, going deep into backstory and tapping into their psyche’s of the who’s and why’s of each character." - @atorchzagreusandtris, isn't caught up yet but still incredibly supportive when asked for a quote review, author of "Amnesia: Broken Gold"

[Quotev | Archive of our Own]

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

"Okay Scout, what is this?"

Not too long ago I was introduced to Figurosity, and it's definitely opened a lot of doors for me to get better at making art. So of course, to get my practice in, I thought; You know what would be fun? Fake manga covers for Death's Castle.

Well fake might not be entirely accurate. While Death's Castle is not getting a comic adaptation, and these covers will likely not see much use for the actual fanfic, I do plan to one day join the bookbinding trend and make a physical copy of the story. Not to sell of course, just to have. With how long the fanfic already is at what is currently the halfway point, I decided awhile ago that I would likely split it into multiple volumes. Right now I have no idea how many chapters there will be per volume, but rough estimate is at least the first ten chapters would make up volume 1, and volumes 3-5 have nothing for them yet.

There were a few touch and go moments, including having to completely start over on one, but I'm really happy with how these turned out. They each look amazing despite my limitations and manage to look like a complete set while also feeling unique to each character. I do wish I could have kept heights more consistent, but I had to sacrifice that for the sake of making sure everyone was in frame. I also went and found the actual classic PewDiePie font for this! If you're wondering, it's Feast of Flesh BB.

Also I wanna give a quick shout out to ZoeDraws, who has created some amazing fan art for the fanfic. Please go check them out. They actually added a similar pattern to Mr. Chair's shirt, which gave me the idea to include it here as I thought it would be a nice touch for a more detailed piece. I also have to take the chance to credit blackbeltkitten009 since I pretty much stole my outfit design for Stephano from them. We never really talked, but they are aware of me using it. That said, they have long moved on from the fandom so do not bother them about it.

But yeah, let me know if you have a favorite! Mine is personally Piggeh's, but they're all very dear to my heart.

[boabel]

I would so be interested in hearing your headcanons for the tbosas characters if you feel like sharing!!

AAA I WAS SO HAPPY WHEN I RECIEVED THIS THANK U SMM!!

i have actually so many idk if i could fit this all in one ask but ill start w treemina

so my hc for treech's surname is hayashi, and he has 2 siblings, one older brother named rowan, and a younger sister named hana. basically his older brother was killed in an accident in the lumberyards when he was young, which left treech as the sole provider for his family, since his father passed from illness and his mother is unfit to work. he left school really young to join the lumberyards and make his brother proud (probably at like 12 or 13) but always kept trying to teach himself things out of old books he finds in his house, because he loves to learn and find out things about the world. he is js innately very curious about why things are the way they are, which makes him almost skeptical at times. he's really close with hana, and she was twelve when he was reaped, so he was only worrying about her and he didn't even think that his own name would be called.

he knew lamina before the games but not very closely, i imagine him to be quite jealous of her because although they are both from a poorer part of d7, lamina has older brothers she can rely on and she can stay in school. they had a few quick encounters, and treech knew her because she would always try to sell her woodwork to him/his family but he always politely declined since they didn't have enough money. he's almost mesmerised by the way that she crafts things and develops a small crush on her, which he feels absolutely awful about during the games.

speaking of lamina, i hc her last name to be blackthorn and that she's the youngest of four siblings, all brothers. her family isn't very close with her, and she has issues with her mother especially. she never met her dad, he was gunned down by peacekeepers before she was born, so her mother kind of latches on that hurt and resentment to lamina, and favours her brothers over her. her brothers all view eachother as competition almost, for who could be the best son, and lamina is so far left behind in that argument that she can't really connect w/ them either. she couldnt afford to be very emotional before the games because she knew she'd be ridiculed by her family for it so she tried to be nonchalant, but as soon as she's reaped she knows deep down that she isnt going to make it, and if she wants to be her true self and show her true feelings its going to be now. she is very steadfast in her morals and refuses to take another's life, unless it's for mercy (like marcus) and believes she'd rather die herself than become something else of the capitol's creation.

i may have to make a part two to this because its so long but sorry for ranting and thank u for the ask!!!!

[xoemilyblunt]

you knock me out, i fall apart || bluntinski

who - emily blunt, john krasinski. || @jbkrasinski where - woodhull hospital, brooklyn ny when - morning of october 22, 2024 what - john and emily prepare to leave the hospital after the birth of their daughter when they receive unexpected news from the doctor. triggers - pregnancy, hospitals, mentions of hearing loss

John: It was surreal, having a third child – a third, perfect daughter – with Emily. In the days after her arrival, all they seemed to do was snuggle, Emily with Marigold curled in her arms while John wrapped them both in his embrace. It was amazing, and awesome, and all of the fears John had for the future regarding schedules and absences from one another paled in comparison for the love he felt when he looked into Marigold’s eyes, and then to Emily's with gratitude he couldn’t seem to adequately express. He wound up writing a letter and buying a necklace he intended to give her at home, but he still told her thank you over and over to the point it might be considered ad nauseam. Goldie was just so gorgeous that it hurt, and he couldn’t help but feel like the luckiest man alive. "Look," he said, watching the way the infant's fingers flexed inward. "Should we count them again?"

Emily: All of the ups and downs of this pregnancy, Emily thinks, were worth it to get to this bliss. Marigold is perfect, a little bundle of sweetness that has both her and John fawning over her every move. Now that a few days had passed, Em was comfortably in her sweatpants under her hospital gown, feet tucked underneath a blanket as she leaned her head against her husband's chest. "Do you think the number's changed in the last five minutes?" She teased lightly, one hand in the bassinet next to the bed as she tenderly runs a finger over Marigold's forehead. "I was going to suggest we bottle this smell and sell it, actually. So the counting may need to wait."

John: "We're not selling anything. That newborn, magical, not-quite-baby powder smell is just for you and me, thank you," John said, kissing the top of his wife's head as he watched her affection with their daughter. He'd never forget having Hazel or Violet, not for a moment, but there was something new ignited within their family after so many years that made this whole thing so special. And Hazel and Violet were just as excited, even Violet had started to come around and love on her little sister once she saw her small and innocent she was – not the screaming monster she'd imagined, at least when she visited the day prior. The screaming was sure to come later. "She's all ours."

Emily: She grinned up at him, teasing look in her eyes before she continued. "What, you don't want to make another quick buck, Mr. Richy?" It was easy to joke about that, everything having felt a little bit lighter since Marigold made her arrival. The disputes about having to get back to work, the temper tantrums their youngest gave them about not quite being the youngest anymore, none of that seemed to matter. They were a family unit, only made stronger by the newest addition. "She's ours. She has your nose, you know. Look at that." She lightly traced the curve of Marigold's nose, eliciting a little wriggle in the swaddle that has Emily chuckling under her breath. "Those Krasinski genes really pass through."

John: “I’d happily give up every dollar for those eyes,” John mused, almost but not quite tearful as he watched the love of his life with their newest arrival. Emily was such a perfect natural as a mother – a mum – that it was almost a sin that she didn’t have more children, the process of her being pregnant a pain that paid off perfectly with how easily she acted around the newborn. “Nose and name, she’s not going to forget which family she belongs to anytime soon. Think she’s warm enough? Does she need to be burped? …yes, it’s possible that I’m looking for an excuse to hold her. It’s been a whole ten minutes, you know.”

Emily: “Quite beautiful, huh?” She turned her own eyes back up to him, blue just like their newest’s, and adoringly stroked his cheek. There was a chance her eyes would darken as she aged, but for now, Marigold looked so much like Emily that it had her heart full. “Always looking for an excuse, I know you. I don’t think she’d turn down another daddy snuggle. Take her.” She settled down further in the hospital bed, trying to get comfortable still to no avail. They’d be going home soon, right? She longed to be back in her own bed, maybe they’d do the car seat check and get to leave today. Emily picked up her cup of water, sipping through the straw as she looked over at John and Goldie. “She looks so little compared to you, baby.”

John: John wasn’t one to say no to the opportunity or offer to hold any of his daughters, and he carefully cradled a slightly dozing Marigold against his chest as he sat on the edge of the bed and grinned across at Emily. He could tell she was uncomfortable in the hospital bed but she seemed happy, and he told himself that in this moment that was the main thing. Rocking the baby, he nodded at his wife’s words. “She makes me look like I’ve actually being working out. We should have a newborn every year. Irish twins, you said it was called?” And then he looked across at her and winked playfully, turning so she could see the baby better when there was a gentle knock at the door and an unfamiliar doctor entered with what had to be an intern in tow.

Emily: Emily gave a little, amused hum at John’s suggestion, because as much as she did enjoy being pregnant and the end result of it, having another baby straight away sounded unenjoyable. “Oh, Lord. That is what it’s called, but we’ll see just how that works out for you.” The two doctors at the door had Emily turning her attention with a little grin, setting the water cup down as they entered and greeted the pair. The older woman pulled a seat up with her folder cracking open, as the intern hung closer to the foot of the bed, peeking at the baby with an uneasy look on his face.

“So, everything’s looking like you’re going to be able to be discharged later today. Vitals have been looking good, Marigold passed her PKU and Bilirubin screening with flying colors.” The doctor flipped through the pages, scanning over the document as if double-checking something. “But interestingly enough, she did not pass the hearing screening. We did it twice, once last night, and once again this morning, and the results didn’t seem to change.”

Emily’s face visibly fell, as she sat up higher in the hospital bed. “Okay, so…what does that mean?”

“All it means is that I have to mark the box for abnormal results and you have to take her for further testing. We have some great pediatric audiologists we can refer you to, in New York and Massachusetts and Pennsylvania, they’ll be able to get some more specialized diagnostic testing done. It’s possible it’s just as simple as that, but beyond that, it’s just something you should monitor and take to a specialist. Have either of you noticed any delayed responses in the past two days, especially to loud noises?”

John: John’s face fell with Emily’s. He didn’t know much about the news they were being given except that it wasn’t good news, at least based on the failure of a test and the almost somber look on the doctor’s face. He held Marigold closer and tried to process the information, consider the question, glancing between the medical team and then across at his wife, answering before she got a chance to. “…I mean, she’s a newborn. She’s the loudest thing in the room. We’ve intentionally kept it quiet in here, even with the girls. I don’t… is this a permanent situation?” He swallowed the lump in his throat and looked over at the intern, fervently scribbling down notes like this was any baby girl and not their daughter. “She passed every test with her amnio and the anatomy scan with flying colors. Right, Em?”

Emily: Emily nodded along with John, confused look etched on her features while agreeing with him. “Yeah, we didn’t hear of anything abnormal during the pregnancy, or anything else.” The doctor closes the folder up, looking between the two with a sympathetic look on her face.

“Like I said, all I can tell you is that she didn’t pass our standard twice. There’s nothing further I can diagnose as the postpartum attending, but I’d highly recommend you getting her to a specialist by…” She checks her watch, to get a feel for today’s date. “Maybe either right before or right after Thanksgiving. I know the holiday makes it tough, but it shouldn’t be sat on for longer than her turning 1 month old.”

Emily’s heart sank in her stomach, especially with knowing she was expected to be on set right after Thanksgiving, but she tried not to show it on her face. Instead, she nodded, tucking her hair behind her ear. “Okay. Yeah, um…I guess we’ll take all your recommendations for people and we’ll…talk about what works best for us.”

John: Thanksgiving? That felt like tomorrow and a million years away at once. John looked down at Marigold who was resting in his arms so soundly before delicately passing her into her mother’s arms, mumbling “I’ll be right back” before following the doctor into the hall. But there was no purpose for it, no answer to his questions. And he felt like his life was falling to pieces before they’d even reached a conclusion. He gave himself a minute and breathed in sharp and deep, before heading back into the room with a fake but hopefully reassuring smile on his face.

Emily: The doctor passed along the paper of referrals, prestigious hospitals that made Emily’s stomach turn at the idea, before leaving the room and the three of them back to their own devices. She folded the paper and set it down on the little side table, before John was leaning to pass Marigold back over to her so he could step outside. It was overwhelming, to say the least, and Emily envied the way he could step away from it all for a moment. Here she was instead, lightly rocking Marigold in her arms and looking down at her, like she was trying to piece together what any of this meant. The blonde glanced up at her husband when he came back in, but immediately brought her gaze back down to her daughter. The silence that sat between them felt louder than anything.

John: The smile quickly faltered when Emily looked up and away, and John knew immediately that he’d made a mistake by stepping out of the room. He could have apologized, but his words felt small and inadequate. So instead he did the only thing he knew how to do in that moment, sliding onto the edge of the bed and reaching up to rest his hand on Emily’s shoulder. “I love you, and I love her, and it’s going to be okay.” It was a promise he couldn’t keep, another thing that just felt plain not enough, but he had to offer something in the moment or the silence – the very silence that Marigold might just be living in – might destroy them.

Emily: She didn’t tear her eyes away from the baby, but leaned into his touch all the same. “I know.” She offered quietly, because even if she didn’t really know in that moment, she knew enough to accept that later on. “It’s okay.” Who she was reassuring at this point, she didn’t know, but Marigold’s big blue eyes were looking up at her and Emily wanted so badly to believe that it was in response to her words. “It could be a fluke,” she mumbled back a minute later, “those tests are wrong all the time. We don’t know anything for sure yet.”

John: “Yeah, maybe it’s a fluke.” John echoed, even though in his heart and soul he felt otherwise. He looked down from Emily to their baby, who was to them in every way perfect. Who hadn’t done anything wrong, yet, and as far as the adoring parents were concerned never would. He took in a deep breath, trying not to let it sting the way Emily didn’t return his love - she was stunned, he knew, from the news and from his running out after the doctors. “You should rest, Emily,” he whispered, swallowing. “I’ll – I’ll follow up with the nurse about being discharged so we can get out of here, okay? I’ll bet Marigold’s dying to see her big sisters.”

[zenkor123]

The beginning of Katniss's rotation 6 AM October 8 75 DD WIP

Restraining order removed in evening of October 7, this is the begining of Katniss's rotation, Peeta is heavily drunk on morphling that he drunk just 30 minutes before. It is 6 AM.

"why does she want to end it all with an attempt on Snow when she has her home family pet, fame, a life with Gale, much of her childhood friends from her district, lots of friends including the other victors, Why is she so down when Peeta is lucky to not be spending the rest of his life in a mental institution has no memories does not know his birthday, and his family was killed, Rubius Mayne was forced to do secretary work in Snows mansion and endured far worse and neither he nor Mayne has a death wish, death is nothing special to them. Snow is going to lose the war and not survive. Do you blame yourself for the war? Snow set up the system and even without the berries it was not meant to last. Is it the insecurity of seeing the face of the person who Redacted and strangled you every single day? Do you think there is no life without me trying to kill you so you want to kill Snow for this? What did Snow do to you? So stop looking at me like I'm the worst thing that ever happened to you, that you just can't stand my presence, your not so special Katniss Everdeen. I have a sense that this is about me.  "Yeah I know what happened before I was mutated you were(goes on about about SA delusions) and I'm sorry about that, Peeta received more than enough retribution for this, and I have no attraction to you don't worry, but what does that have to do with killing Snow and why is it getting worse? I imagine you would be happy to know that he suffered and is gone and I don't believe any of the bull crap that was forced down my throat in the Capitol. You need to talk about this with someone because if you lose your mind your going to be given an apartment in the hospital wing with me and Annie, I've always signaled misfortune for you and in the process of escaping it I will be this again without me doing anything then wanting to live my life and frankly you should be in the hospital wing, or at least talking to Dr Aurelius once a week. None of this is my problem but I was selling Morphling to Boggs at 2 in the morning  and I heard you screaming my name over and over again, I thought it was an Hallucination. someone needs to tell you to seek help and since no one has told you this yet I guess it had to be me out of all people. ||If your going to dream of me (SA delusions)|| then  Keep it to yourself or I will request to have your room soundproofed. 

'"if there's anyone who needs to go to the hospital its you Peeta, you were tortured, your mind destroyed and were made into a weapon and you think that makes you strong, you know who was the first person to call you a runt?, Your mom, did also do you really think that Snow didn't know what he was doing when he tried to sell you like Finnick? He set you and Annie up to kill those clients, yet like a fool you fell for it.' Peeta is triggered by being mother shamed:

You know I'm not the only mutt created to destroy you, the capitol created reptilian mutts that hunt in packs, and probably are attracted to your scent, they have sharp teeth, and they whisper your name "Katnissssss" they are trained on live avoxes, the odds of your capture are also pretty high and if he captures you your torture may be livestreamed and your death may be like Darius's death, slow, you cannot be mentally well to want to risk this also a death from an arrow is too quick for white imp, my favorite idea is using one of the capitol replicated scents, attaching it to Snow and feeding him to those lizard mutts but if Snow is to die before the end of the war, (Peeta laughs about how fucked up that idea is) I would recommend a bunker buster or poison gas though many Avox innocents would be killed"

"No I want to see Snow's face before he dies, he took you from me and hijacked you, a debt must be paid! and before you go on about rape, you made that up" Peeta begins expositing his SA delusions and Katniss tells him it never happens and reveals the stay with me always, nights on the train, night before the quarter quell,

[carrotcouple]

A lot of people have been asking about the OCs in this post. So I made an obligatory doodle of the main characters and am doing a quick explanation in this post.

These are the main characters from my fairly new OC story which is currently fondly under the placeholder name #necromancers and biohazards. Anyways it's an urban fantasy story with many many different kinds of people (people???? beings???). The protagonists are a group of definitely not sane morally gray idiotic housemates who are fully under govt. scrutiny because two of them were accused of having created a deadly bioengineered plague of sorts that's been killing everyone.

Alright, quick run down of the characters!

First off! Enxo (They/Them) Enxo is a no good, morally off necromancer who got turned into a vampire against their will. They sell "life insurance" of a sort by saying they'll resurrect someone if they die. Enxo is a devil may care biochemist as well and has a strangely large amount of charisma. They were accused of creating the bioengineered disease along with their best friend Qing.

Secondly, Livie (She/Her). Livie used to be a government worker but then was falsely accused of a crime and was kicked out and ostracized. She lost her home and no one who she used to know wants to associate with her. Ren picked her off the streets and brought her over. And since everyone in the house minded their own business and treated her fairly well, she stayed. She's a goodie two shoes and tries to keep her housemates out of obvious illegal nonsense.

Thirdly, Monhir (They/Them). Monhir is an undead abomination. They died(?) after contracting the bioengineered plague, but because of what they were before they died, they didn't exactly die and instead became...that. They're weird, they're a hazard and they've got colorful personality. Monhir drinks all the vanilla essence in the fridge, sleeps under other people's beds and crab walks(?) around the house.

Fourth, Qing (He/Him). Qing is Enxo's best friend, partner in crime, enabler and also their voice of reason. Qing is probably the only reason Enxo is even alive right now. With a good head on his shoulders and much nerdiness in the way of biotechnology, he makes sure everyone knows when to hit the accelerator and also the breaks. He also thinks Enxo is an idiot.

Fifth, Ren (They/Them). Ren is a bit crazy. Ren loves gossip and sparkles. They work at a party store for most of their day, but then spends the rest of their time listening to gossip and gathering information. This has led to them being one of the most valuable information assets in the country. Oh yeah they also like fuzzy slippers and adopt people way too frequently. They were stopped from bringing people home permanently after Livie. This doesn't mean they don't bring people over for dinner.

Sixth, Ytal (She/Her). Ytal is a mercenary and also an assassin if she's paid enough (Livie doesn't know this). She's never allowed to do anything around the house because of the brute force she's capable of. She's broken too many lightbulbs. She's also cursed and so will sometimes just throw up blood and pass out. Enxo has her on several different meds to manage this though and she pays them a hefty amount by acquiring random body parts for experimentation (Livie once again does not know this).

And lastly, Zayn (He/Him). Zayn is a bit of a mystery. None of his housemates know about who he used to be before he started living with them. (To be honest, they could all find out but none of them care to look into it). Zayn used to be a popular celebrity who would smuggle people in and out of countries so that they could find refuge in other countries away from wars and more. However, several countries found out about this so he changed his identity and is now living a quiet and uncomplicated life (aside from the random life threatening explosion he faces for rooming right next to Qing and Enxo's lab).

The story kinda focuses on the bioengineered disease and everything surrounding it. Enxo is technically the main character which I love them for. They're fantastic. A lot of this story is still under development but yeah. That's all. Will probably post more stuff of them at some point! Thanks for tuning in.

[souldivide]

art vent, kind of makes me look like a shallow person

FOR clarification i'm 20. turning 21 in two months. yippee! what an eye opener

the point of trying to profit your art, especially using your art to help fund for survival since you were 11 - you realize that while you want to improve your art for yourself, you're so consciously aware of what parts would appeal to strangers who see your art.

because you don't want to appeal to others to enjoy your art, you want to appeal to others to garner money and funds. i've ebegged on this site for almost a decade, on so many different accounts and even used my art as much as i could to get even more money. to pay bills, to pay for food, to help my mother in medical emergencies. since i was only 11 years old, by the way. a lot of the time, while it is a huge part of my reason to keep improving -- i don't actually think of reasons such as improving my art because 'i want to go to college' 'i want to be better' as much as my main reason being: i want this to sell to people.

that being said, my art style is something im so happy with right now for myself. but i think like. you have to really make your art your signature. that way, people will want to buy what you can give them. but algorithm is just, so hard to fight with now. the heartbreaking part is that, even if i'm at my 'peak' in art.

and my art has always been my one consistent interest, thats never faded. it's apart of my daily life. my routine, my medicine, my hobby, my enjoyment. i need this to live in many different ways. whether it be for providing my funds via commissions, coping art for trauma, or generally to express my happiness for things in my head, etc. i need this hobby or i will die. its the one skill ive had my entire life thats stuck, and its something i'm *good* at. and i've kept up with it to this day.

my art looks consistently good. flattering. i would say at some points it feels.. professional, sometimes. i am consistently proud and satisfied with my art and haven't struggled on pieces as much as i used to several years ago. it took me 2 months to come up with illustrations. now ive been pumping them out with ease. commissions are so much faster. quicker. ive really upgraded. i'm efficient, quick, and my stylization journey has been amazing.

yet..

this has been the hardest i've ever fucking struggled to make money, ever. since i was 11 years old. i've never.. had so much difficulty. i feel spoiled, honestly, when i know so many other artists struggle filling commissions too. but i've always had good fortune, i guess. good luck. but not since the year began. it's been so hard to fill in requests, so hard to fill slots. even when my prices are cheaper, it's still so hard. which is crazy, because 2 years ago i was consistently filling slots like crazy. i had consistent income, for the most part. i was able to help my family, avoid eviction, pay for water, clothes, food. emergencies like car wrecks, medical stuff -- god, its insane how much my art has helped me. it's scary. to think about what woulld happen if i didnt have this skill.

back then, like my art looked like this in 2021.

i look back and i wonder. this is fine, its definitely my art style. but how did i makee so much money off of stuff like this? so much more than i do now? i still draw fanart, and my art's been getting better. i think its honestly just bad luck, or maybe algorithm has flopped a lot of my stuff. either way, it's sort of humbling. Extremely humbling, that even with all this improvement - it still may not be enough to get me anywhere. i've never struggled before, trying to open commissions even when ive always focused on original content primarily. i know its hard to get popularity when you only draw ocs, but ive been fine for the most part. getting by, until lately.

i think i'll just have to keep working harder. see what people enjoy, but its just really ego crushingi think. And i could care less about popularity or anything. i think the really awful part is that im just stressed all the time about how i can keep making money off of this when its been so hard to even fill slots, let alone gaining peoples interests. Is this competition related? is this just a shit time for artists? am i just flopping. Who knows.. ohwell. ill survive

[stellaronlove]

Valentino x OC (Clover) - Chapter One

((A/N: I’ll probably come up with a title for this series later, but for now it doesn’t have one lol. Trigger warnings include workplace sexual harrassment, mild violence, and generally all the warnings that come with Val being Val.))

When Valentino opens a job for a new personal assistant, Clover believes this may be his best chance to find work in Hell without selling his soul. Little does he know, he may be in way over his head…

Getting a job in Hell was interesting, to say the least. There were plenty of jobs, sure, but not many that didn’t include “sell your soul” in the hiring requirements. Clover wasn’t exactly a genius, but he was smart enough to know better- selling his soul was one deal he could never worm his way out of once he signed the contract. So when he finally found a job that didn’t require being under the complete control of an Overlord, he was determined to get it. He didn’t have much of a resume, frankly, since he hadn’t been in hell long. He wasn’t really sure if experience from the living world counted toward job applications in Hell, but even if it did, he wouldn’t have much to put on there… most of his adult life had been spent in a greened out daze, sleeping and binging shows he couldn’t remember the plots of.

Given his inexperience, Clover’s next best option was to go into the place he was applying to and make his case in person. He had seen V Tower plenty of times in passing, but had never really had much reason to go there- he didn’t work in the studios, nor was he attractive enough to be a model or actor. But personal assistant- that was a position he was sure he could fill. When he entered the huge front doors of the tower, he was astounded by the bright lights, the busy environment… it was so overwhelming all he could do was stand there for a moment taking it all in. He stood there for a moment, ears flicking nervously, as he stared dumbly- but he was startled out of his stupor when a voice snipped at him.

“Who are you? Do you have a reason to be here?”

The voice wasn’t rude exactly, but the man sounded like he was in a hurry. Clover jolted to look at the speaker- and found himself face to face with someone’s pants. Or well, to be more precise, he found himself pretty much face to face with a stranger’s bulge. It wasn’t exactly uncommon, being as small as Clover was, but it was certainly a surprise, and Clover stumbled back a step, craning his neck to look up. His face was still flushed, embarrassed by such a close encounter, but Val stared down straight-faced, looming intimidatingly as he repeated myself.

“Speak up, dumbass. Do you have a reason to be here? Spit it out.”

Clover gulped, taking a deep breath, then spoke up. “Um- yes, actually. I saw listings in the newspaper saying Valentino was looking for a personal assistant. I came hoping to get an interview.”

“That would be me.” Valentino’s wings gave a sharp little flap behind him, draped down instead of taking the shape of a coat as they usually would. His eyes narrowed for a moment, then he leaned down to get more on level with Clover, burning red eyes giving Clover a quick once over. Clover couldn’t help but squirm a little, unsure about the sudden attention. “Hmm. You’ll do. You start tomorrow morning, 7am. Don’t be late-“ Valentino paused, squinting once again before digging into his back pocket. He extracted a wad of bills and tucked them down the back of Clover’s pants with a shameless smirk. “And please- go buy yourself something less ugly to wear so that I can actually be seen with you, alright chiquito? You look like you bought your clothes at a grocery store.”

Clover sputtered a little, lost for words. He wasn’t sure what he expected when he arrived at V Tower- maybe a job interview of some sort, or even to be turned away for not having submitted an application. He watched in confusion as Val walked away, one of his hands stuffing his wallet back into his pocket as another swiped a coffee right from one of the employees’ desks. Watching Val walk away, Clover had a feeling he was already in way over his head… but given he’d just been hired on the spot, he didn’t have much choice but to prepare himself for the job ahead. That night, before he returned home, he went out to one of the nicer clothing stores in town and bought himself a few button downs and slacks. He expected to have to dip into his own budget to buy work clothes, but- when he pulled out the stack of cash Val had given him to assess the damage, he almost choked. It was probably more money than he had ever held in his life, frankly- and even after paying for all his clothes, he still found himself tucking leftover cash back into his pocket.

When morning came, Clover woke up bright and early to make it to his new job on time. He found himself putting more attention into his appearance than he had in a long time- brushing his hair and styling it in more than just a messy ponytail or bun (ok, not MUCH more, it was still just half up instead of all up), washing his face and doing some faint semblance of a skincare routine, dressing in the pricy new clothes Val funded for him. It was strange, to be honest… even when he lived on Earth, it had been a long time since he put much care into his appearance, and that hadn’t magically changed when he arrived in Hell. He wasn’t even sure why he put so much effort into how he looked… maybe it was because Val had seemed so focused on it? He was hired based on a simple once-over, and the first task he was given as an employee was to buy nicer clothes, so it was fair to assume his appearance was going to be important here.

When he arrived at V Tower, Val wasn’t yet in the front lobby, and Clover wasn’t sure what to do about this. He paused by the reception desk, and the woman sitting there stopped to stare for a moment. She popped her gum, raising her brow a little. “Can I help you?”

“Umm- yeah, actually. Yesterday I was hired on as Val’s personal assistant, and he instructed me to get here at 7, but I don’t see him anywhere.”

“Go on up to his room. Top floor penthouse, just hit the P button on the elevator panel.” She sighed, digging in a desk drawer before producing a lanyard for him with his photo and name printed on it. Clover pulled the lanyard over his neck, his tail twitching anxiously. He was disconcerted to realize he had never given Val his name, much less stopped to get a photo done for his key card. The photo seemed to have been taken by one of the many security cameras in the lobby, though how it got such a high resolution photo he wasn’t really sure. He also found himself nervous because the moment he told the receptionist he was hired to work for Val, she seemed to shift from irritated by his presence to sympathetic quickly. He found himself even more worried that he had signed himself up for something with no clue how difficult it would really be- but there was no turning back now.

“Thank you for the help.” Clover nodded at the woman at the counter, and she nodded back at him.

“Good luck, kid.”

Feeling even less assured than he had this morning, Clover approached the elevator and followed the receptionist’s directions, hitting the P button on the elevator and scanning his key card when prompted. The ride up was quiet, the silence filled only by the tinny sound of a digital voice announcing air times and call times for various television programs. Not even radio music to break the tension… it certainly wasn’t a promising start to his new career.

When the elevator arrived at the top floor and Clover stepped out the sliding doors, his nose was hit by a thick, heavy smell something like incense and opium. The entire room smelled smoky and sickly sweet, but faintly like cologne too, and a more animal scent Clover couldn’t seem to identify. In the bed across the room, Val was sprawled out atop the covers- and Clover stumbled, bumping hard into the coffee table when he got a better look. Other than his wings, draped clumsily over the more sensitive parts, Valentino was completely naked.

His eyes remained closed even after the clatter of Clover’s leg hitting the coffee table, but he shifted in the bed and let out a swear, throwing a mug from his bedside table in the general direction of the sound. Clover dodged the flying mug and watched with horror as it broke on the ground a couple feet away from him.

“Ughhh- clean that up. And get me coffee. And booze. And turn off the lights, for fuck sake, it’s too bright.” Val complained, pulling his wing over his face- and unfortunately for Clover, exposing his whole dick in the process. Clover let out a startled little bleat, turning away.

“U-Um- yes sir, I’ll take care of it!” Clover scurried to pick up the shards of the cup, hands shaking and face red as he tried not to pay attention to the blatant nudity. Honestly he wasn’t sure what he was expecting given the man produced porn for a living, but he wasn’t used to being around naked men this way. In life, he’d sort of slowed to a dead stop and disappeared into himself not long after he started being old enough for sex, and in hell he simply hadn’t bothered. Maybe if had, he’d know the lingering tinge of sourness and musk in the air was the smell of sex. He could hear rustling as he resolutely kept his eyes on the pile of shattered porcelain, but assumed- or well, hoped, really, that the sound was Val covering back up, or maybe putting on some clothes.

His hoped were squashed when he heard footsteps behind him, then a voice. Embarrassment and flusterment were like blood in the water to Val, who couldn’t help finding it funny how nervous Clover was about his nudity. “What, chiquito, are you shy? Better get used to it, you’re gonna be following me to some pretty wild places. C’mon, turn around and look at me.”

Clover gulped, his tail wiggling nervously as he shook his head. “No, that’s alright. I’ll uhh… I’ll just finish cleaning this up and go get that coffee you asked for.” He didn’t say it aloud, but he hoped by the time he got back with the coffee, Valentino would be dressed, or at least covered somehow.

Valentino grew irritated quickly, one of his hands reaching to squeeze Clover’s face as he turned Clover around. “I said look at me, not stutter like an idiot and make excuses.”

Clover’s eyes grew wide, his ears pinned back. He was practically face to face with Val’s dick, this time without the barrier of fabric to make it less embarrassing- and worse, he found himself scared. He could see now why the receptionist downstairs had looked so sympathetic. Val was clearly volatile… he wasn’t sure how dangerous Val could be, but he let out a breath of relief when the hand gripping his face let up. He scrambled back, taking a shaky breath. “I have to go now. To, uh. To the bathroom. Be right back.” He was shaking a little, his face hot and his heart racing as he hurried toward one of the doors in the room.

“That’s a closet, sweetheart. Other door.” Val laughed, swinging back to his usual teasing self just as quickly as he’d gone dark. Clover ducked into the other door quickly, shutting and locking it behind him. He took a minute to compose himself, rinsing his face with cool water and sitting on the edge of an impossibly big bath tub while he calmed down. As he composed himself, he thought on the situation… he could quit right now and leave, nothing was really stopping him. After all, he hadn’t signed any sort of contract, soul-binding or otherwise… but he couldn’t afford his apartment much longer without a job, and Hell wasn’t kind to the homeless. Besides, this was the only job he could find that didn’t require signing away all autonomy and pledging his soul to an Overlord. So- suffice it to say, he was more trapped than he wanted to admit. He took a deep breath, bracing himself, and stepped back out of the bathroom.

“Let me get you that coffee now, alright? Do you take cream or sugar in it?”

“Both, and a shot of Bailey’s in it too.” When Clover dared to glance toward the source of the voice, Valentino was already dressed and packing his pipe with some sort of dark, tar-like substance. He shot Clover a grin, cocking his head a little. “So you’re not quitting?”

“Not yet, but if you do something like that ever again, I will.”

“We’ll see about that, chiquito.”

[loan-sharks]

Cog Boss Headcanons

these are mostly based on observations from each boss fight battle, their headquarters, etc. even promotional material from Disney themselves

obviously my own headcanons, no one has to follow these if they don’t want to!

The Senior Vice President of Sales (the VP):

-often leaves out the ‘senior’ part of his title (he does not like it)

-the most impulsive of the four

-unsurprisingly the most charismatic. he’s gotta make those sales after all

-he’s a bit of an airhead but does not like it when others point it out (one of the few things he’s insecure about)

-often nicknamed ‘sparks’ due to his light bulbs occasionally sparking when he feels extreme emotion (ecstasy, rage, shock)

-the VP is surprisingly crafty. he’s a bit of an inventor (whose creations often fail) that tries to come up with new gimmicky products to sell. he also made his toon cage all by himself

-his bulbs light up when he gets an idea of any kind

-closest to the CFO

-often butts heads with the CEO (their egos clash with each others’), they never agree on anything

-he loves the holidays! besides making additional monetary gain he genuinely enjoys the tackiness of it all

-the only boss that tries to get to know his employees on occasion

(more headcanons below)

The Chief Financial Officer (the CFO):

-one of the more grounded/mature bosses

-kind of a grump but that’s due to his throbbing headache after getting run over by trains multitudes of times

-ironically, he loved trains and train sets. after constant run-ins with toons however, the sight of them gradually makes him sick (and a bit traumatized even oops)

-has sharp teeth to prevent anyone from getting the idea of sticking their hands into his mouth to steal his money (he’s still a cash register after all) (the VP may or may not have tried this before, ouch)

-gets super embarrassed when his cash register mouth opens in public

-of his three colleagues he likes the VP the most but will never admit it to anyone not even himself (haha tsundere)

-the only person he’s (openly) scared of is the Chairman

-dislikes toons the most. untrusting towards them as well

-kind of paranoid of everyone being after his money. this man needs therapy

-he LOVES goons, they’re the ‘dogs’ of the cog world. often pets them and goes “who’s a good tattletell???”

The Chief Justice (the CJ):

-the most mature one of the bunch but honestly kinda absent minded

-will never tell you if his hair is really a wig or not

-he will never tell you if he has eyes or not either

-the “nicest” of the four; as in he still doesn’t like toons and does his job no problem but treats them with the most dignity anyway (such as letting saddened toons go with their gags intact)

-in order of the colleagues he respects the most to least: CFO, VP, CEO

-never the cause of drama between his colleagues

-when drama does ensue however, he tends to walk away until his colleagues stop squabbling. he’s too old for this

-naps in his spare time, wears a sleeping mask over his blindfold (for comedic effect)

-physically he is there, but mentally he is on an island getaway. that being said he daydreams a lot about his ideal vacation/retirement

-greatly enjoys puzzle games. he is the number one pro minesweeper player and is super quick at completing it, even the CFO fears his power

-legend has it if you honk his nose, it will emit bicycle horn sounds

The Chief Executive Officer (the CEO):

-in public meetings/outings he pretends to be the most mature of the four since its expected of him, but he’s probably the most unpredictable/erratic one behind closed doors

-likes to carry his golf club everywhere he goes

-never takes his hat off

-the meanest one in general. is only “nice” to his colleagues because he is (visibly) scared of the Chairman (but pretends he’s not)

-despite this he does not like it when his fellow bosses try to exclude him out of events

-has humiliating memories of being demoted to a Flunky many times before

-the only thing he loves more than power is golf. sleeps right next to his favorite/signature golf club every night (yes even giving it a pillow and tucking it in at night)

-has named said golf club “putt-putt”. he’s too far gone

-prone to throwing temper tantrums on occasion

-hates opening up to anyone and thinks showing emotion is considered weak

-the only boss that enjoys eating real food (sandwiches, apples, cupcakes and cakes are his favorites). or at least, he tries to as every attempt gives him a stomachache (clogging up his insides and making a mess)

-this is likely why toons attack him with seltzer bottles instead of cakes. they don’t affect him and he tries to eat them anyway

The Bosses in General:

-they can switch from sitting on their podiums to having legs in-between shifts

-the only cog bosses that have tried physically fighting each other before is the VP and CEO; whenever this happens the CFO and CJ have to restrain them apart

-the Chairman expects the bosses to get along with each other, mostly in order for their business to run as smoothly as possible

-they’re all quite lonely (especially during work hours) but all four have different attitudes about it: the VP tries making conversation with his employees or distract himself with office duties. the CFO tries to brush it off and ignore it. the CJ accepts it for how it is and is at peace. the CEO denies such feelings because then he will be perceived as weak

-the VP and CJ have tried jump-roping together before out of boredom; however they were told to stop by everyone else as they were unintentionally causing mini earthquakes (explaining their high jump attacks)

[wall-legion]

May I

Rosie had never seen her best friend this way.

Guinevere Villemont had been a lot of things in the many years the two girls had been friends: impulsive, quick-witted (and quick-tempered), sarcastic, and sometimes overwhelming with her emotional swings. Rosie knew all this, and she appreciated all this. What she wasn't prepared for, however, was Ginny grabbing her arm when the Priory scholar who was going to help them walked out to meet them and squeezed hard.

"Gin, you're hurting me," she whispered.

"Sorry-!" Ginny hissed and let go, looking away from the tall charr who was looking down at Gixx as he was making introductions.

"Why are you being weird?" Because she was being weird: Ginny had never so much as looked at anyone back home no matter how many folks had sent love letters or how often she had been the target of pining looks as they had walked across the beaches and streets of Lion's Arch. Now she'd taken one look at this white furred charr with charcoal and smoke markings who'd joined them in Gixx's office, and suddenly she was acting like they were ten again and had been caught swiping pastries from that one woman who came into town every other week to sell.

"Who's being weird? I'm not being weird. You're being weird."

"Ladies." They both looked forward as Gixx cleared his throat, irritably, to get their attention back. "If we could continue uninterrupted?"

"Yes. Of course. My apologies, Steward Gixx," Rosie said in a subdued tone.

The asura nodded before continuing on. "As I was saying, Scholar Crispinus has been quite the asset to the cause since he joined us. A mechanical mastermind, which has been quite the gift with figuring out the dredge machinery in the aftermath of the Molten Alliance-"

"I had plenty of help from others, Steward," the charr interrupted gently. Rosie half expected Gixx to scold him as well, but the asura didn't seem to mind.

"Mm, quite. Well then! I will leave you all to get better acquainted." Gixx moved to open the door, clearly signalling that it was time for everyone who wasn't him to leave. The charr headed out first, while Rosie waited for Ginny to go first. She thanked Gixx privately before leaving as well, hearing the door shut behind her.

"Is he always like that?" Ginny said, in the tone of voice Rosie knew to be only half-joking. Rosie opened her mouth to start scolding her but Crispinus chuckled, surprising her.

"More often than not. You get used to it," he replied with the slightest grin pulling at one side of his mouth. "So. Guinevere and Rosamund, huh?"

"Rosie," came out of Rosie's mouth before she could stop herself, "and Ginny, actually. Sorry. Not to be rude."

"No, you're fine. I'd rather know now."

"So, what brought you to the Priory?" Ginny asked, folding her arms.

"Well… a lot of things. It felt like a better fit than the Black Citadel for me."

"So no warband, or..?"

"Ginny-!!" Rosie hissed at her.

The charr's face contorted slightly at that, as he looked down towards the ground for a moment before meeting only Rosie's gaze again. "There… was one. It's complicated. Nothing to weigh you two nice girls down with today. Here, let me show you around."

He took them on a brief tour of the Priory grounds- from what Rosie guessed, it was what he was permitted to show to outsiders, and was perfectly polite as he answered Rosie's questions as they walked around. Ginny, however, was uncharacteristically quiet the whole time. They said their goodbyes at the gate, and Crispinus stood and watched them leave until neither of them could see his tall, pale form at the top of the stairway any longer.

Ginny had left the Priory with a frown on her face, and Rosie could tell she was deep in thought about… something. She wasn't entirely sure what until the shorter girl suddenly exploded. "He hates me, doesn't he?"

"Who? Gixx?"

"What? No! Crispinus!"

"Well when you have to be so nosy about everything all the time," Rosie started before looking at her best friend. Ginny actually had tears in her eyes. "Oh gods. What's gotten into you? You've never gotten this way about anyone in the whole time I've known you!"

"I know, but… I feel really bad for offending him."

Sure you do, Rosie thought with an annoyed sigh, you're just embarrassed about the way you acted. "Well, you can apologize the next time you see him, I suppose."

She nodded, wiping her cheeks dry. "Yeah… yeah, I guess that will have to do."

She walked past Rosie, who just shook her head. She'd get over it in two minutes, tops. Something else would get under her skin, or her ire up, and she'd forget that she'd had this attraction to him in the first place. She could act normal the next time they had to interact, and that would be just fine.

***

It would be another month before they would need to call on Scholar Crispinus's help. In spite of her better judgment, Rosie had Ginny come along to the meet-up again… or maybe it had been Macha in her head, needling her to bring her along again and see what would happen. She swore sometimes her great-grandfather's best friend just provoked her into making decisions so she could bear witness to whatever messy aftermath came of it. Still, though, it had been a month: maybe she was over whatever flash in the pan infatuation that had come over her when they had first met Crispinus.

He already had set up camp by the time they arrived, and had traded his scholar robes for more practical engineer's armor. He was tinkering with something as they were approaching, but stopped and straightened up as they got closer. "Hello again," he said cordially. "How goes the commanding?"

"Well enough," Rosie replied. "How fares life in the Priory?"

"No one's burned it down yet, so I suppose much the same," he said with a chuckle.

"What are you working on?" Ginny was already over and looking at the device that sat on the ground next to Crispinus's tent.

"That? It's just a side project. Trying to reverse engineer a dredge spike trap but something inside isn't firing..." He laughed as Ginny turned to look at his notes. "Those won't help you, I wrote them in-"

"Old Charr. I can see that."

"You what." Crispinus looked from her to Rosie.

"Someone my mother knew taught her how to read it..."

"It was Uncle Tiran, the spring I was trying to jump roofs and I fell and broke my leg," Ginny interrupted. "I was bored to tears so he came over and taught me. He taught you, too, so we could write in code."

"I'm sorry that it's not something I could remember easily after the thing with my head happened," Rosie shot back before sighing. "Anyways. Yes, she knows Old Charr."

"It looks like you put a decimal in the wrong place, Crispinus."

"Did I?" He went to look where Ginny was pointing. "...burn me, I did. Good catch, Ginny. Thank you."

...she's blushing. She's actually blushing!

Yes, Macha, I am aware of that.

"Just glad I could help, Crispinus."

"Oh, you can call me Cris. It's much easier. More efficient too."

Oh now she's definitely blushing. Cogs and gears she is. You best hope this Priory business will let this guy join up with you, or Ginny might jump ship.

"Okay... Cris. You're welcome."

Rosie cleared her throat a little. "Ginny, we need to set up camp as well."

"Oh, yeah! Coming!"

[topconfessions]

im kinda a newbie when it comes to these stuff but regarding jennie’s yacht thing, why would she accept being sold by her company AND only get a small % of it? like id get if she got the whole 2 million (i doubt she needs it too at this point she’s making sm more from other gigs) but to get p1mped while also being this powerful and famous? if she did it for yk connections or an opportunity id understand but money? esp as a nepo baby dont think shed sign up for that.

Honey.

You have a lot to learn.

I understand your point but you are sorely mistaken if you think being a celebrity and peaking i.e finally becoming established with so many deals & noterity expels a celebrity from mistreatment. Did we not learn from TLC, the biggest selling contemporary girl group before destiny child's who got fucked over contractually and were just as broke as a regular person despite just getting off a tour and winning grammys? All they had were company planted gifts and styling that they were billed for like Korean idols and had to announce being scammed at the grammys publicly. It's not related to sex but this example sheds light on how celebrity life is NOT what they show you and tell you at all. It just isn't.

did we forget that one Korean male group like 5-6 years ago who were beaten and abused under their agency?

Did we forget boys over flowers major scandal where that actress was practically pass around to get SA'D severely and had nothing despite being on the biggest show of that decade?

there are so many celebrity names I could drop and even models who have sold out selling pussy to make ends meet.

This all speculation with Jenny i.e allegedly. You don't know what she would sign up for just like I don't. That lifestyle they are living is not a regular societal lifestyle like ours. Power dynamics are severely imbalanced especially over there .

She's not jun jihyun or Lee hyori not even hyuna so why wouldn't she be given a small fraction of it? some of the tea the anon spilled to some degree does seem implausible but I do believe she may have been exposed to or brought into something unsavory. No offense but from how you're explaining it, I can tell you are a newbie. Thats okay. We all get into the scene as newbies.

When you see celebs these days on yachts and mega sail yachts or boat parties, do you genuinely think they are hanging out and vacationing? Cause if you do? The discussion is already over. Jennie is extremely blessed to be young in the new advanced tech era and where social media unites us all for her to have such access to everything she has and I'm happy she's doing the damn thing and it's a win in general but subjectively speaking, I truly don't believe in my opinion one can rise to this magnitude at her talent level and media train alone surpassing others who should have rightfully been there without something underlying there. I'm willing to be fair and say she is where she is cause she's benefitting off the times today cause Korean music was isolated and sparingly promoted here. Korean industry is now on par with America but just a few steps behind.

Anyways, I still remember that random rumor YG shut down with a quickness (which is abnormal for them and him) saying he was having a sexual relationship with Jennie. Then the same rumor was said for Teddy. The media is vicious and can make up crap out of nowhere for sure but sometimes not all of this rumors just come out of nowhere and do stem from some real behavior, even if someone saw something and exaggerated it to the internet.

Remember that.

I don't ever remember a back to back rumor like that floating around about a girl group member and an agency head like that since Yang Sun Huk (It's been so long, I forgot his name but the former owner who wore the hat during BB and 2NE1 days) dated and married one of his girl group members which well is truth.

That's all. You have to tell me this cause you find it illogical and farfetched, not because you're a fan and you don't want to phantom that for her. Again, minus the fact she speaks English well and YG promotes them / books them gigs into over time, you've got to ask yourself why her of all people especially out of everyone in BP landed the idol gig with the weeknd and has opportunities no other idol has gotten to that magnitude? Lisa has great gigs and so does Rose but look closely..m

[goldeneyedgirl]

Ficmas22: Day 9: Mad Girl's Love Song

Happy Day 9!

A quick note, I have unexpected travel to do tomorrow, and if I cannot make it home I may not be able to post tomorrow - I'll have my iPad, but I'm unsure if I can make it work. I'll be back with Day 11 if that happens, though <3

Today with have Mad Girl's Love Song, named for the Sylvia Plath poem I've been meaning to write a fic for since I was 13. I finally figured it out! This is a WIP, but I thought this is a pretty deent start.

I hope you enjoy it!!

mad girl’s love song

I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

I lift my lids and all is born again.

(I think I made you up inside my head.)

The rumours find him in one of the Dakotas, after he feeds from a reeking drunk who blinks at him and cries for someone. He wonders if it's a parent, a lover, or a child. That’s a dangerous tangent to follow, but he does it any way, the weight of grief and regret a steady drip down his spine. 

That’s how Eugene finds him. Wallowing in a sea of misery, wondering about forgotten little girls, forgotten women, worried mothers, with dried blood on his face and wrapped in a filthy, stolen coat. 

(Eugene is about six feet tall, skinny as a string bean, and rather sly looking. In another life, he’d be selling watches from a trench coat or asking ladies in furs to pick a card. In this life, he is mercurial as a tiny river fish, and slyer than an old street cat. Jasper nearly kills him twice before Eugene finds a perch and demands they use their words.)

It should be noted that the Dakotas haven’t had a coven since 1897, and anyone with their ear to the ground knows exactly what happened to Kosa and her coven, and no one has been foolish enough to claim the Dakotas since. Those states are transient areas, where people pass through for a time, and the only territory that can be claimed is that which you are standing on. The same in New York, in Louisiana (blame the Southern warlords), and oddly enough, Nevada. 

Eugene jabbers at him in nearly indecipherable ‘30s slang, sucking on a blood-stained cigarette that Jasper recognises as a desperate attempt to cling to his past, to himself. He longs for something to hold onto just the same, but he’s too old now. Nothing he carries with him is anything he had as a human. Hell, he’d be dead and buried by now, probably having lived out his life. But Eugene, Eugene would still be alive now, if not for a woman with red lips and eyes to match. Probably still doing card tricks, sleight of hand to part people with their money. 

Eugene half tags along with him, half hustles him across the Dakotas to introduce him to the current residents - Ilse, Bowie, Duncan, and Valerie. All solitary nomads, who range from almost welcoming of Jasper (Ilse), to clearly irritated (Valerie). 

That’s how Jasper, Major of the Monterrey Army, ends up sitting in a shit-covered alley in Bismarck and making some kind of friends. They aren’t Peter and Charlotte (he should have told them he was leaving, that he didn’t want to hang around them like a storm cloud of misery. They deserved the happiness that came with freedom), but they are … amicable. 

(He’s confused, later, that he was so… calm and accepting of so many strangers around him. Why it isn’t just one giant shit fight. Ilse laughs, and tells him, “that’s all Eugene. His thing. We all have one - Bowie’s got theories. But Eugene, his is creating friendship or piecing together people who fit together. We don’t know, and he’ll ignore you if you ask.”)

He doesn’t tell them much, and they don’t press, but Valerie doesn’t trust him. She watches him carefully, and he watches her back, mostly because he’s never seen the kind of scarring Valerie has over her left eye; the eye itself is clouded over and dead. Vampires are supposed to be able to heal from almost anything, and yet she stays at him, one blood red and one milky white eye. 

Ilse, Bowie, and Eugene egg each other on with outrageous stories, whilst Duncan adds sarcastic comments at random intervals. 

He and Valerie are mostly quiet.

“Whose the weirdest you’ve ever met, Eugene?” Ilse asks. She’s pretty, like all vampires, with long dark hair and eyes. He sees the necklace she wears, and holds back his questions. After all, she’s told them all she wishes to share, though he can infer what she means when she tells him she was dead either way. 

Eugene pulls the stub of his cigarette and looks thoughtful for a few minutes.

“Weirdest that I’ve met would be Delia-Rae,” he said. “Walks around California in her old wedding dress arguing with herself. Can’t get a straight word out of her. I think she was the one that got destroyed last summer, by the old Italian bastards. Harmless but totally crackers. Should’ve kept a closer eye on her.”

“I ran into her,” Duncan muttered, leaning against the brick work. “Sad lady.”

“Very,” Eugene agreed. “I hope I’m wrong, and she’s still arguing with the voices in her head, but…” They all sit in silence for a moment; sometimes it feels like the Volturi’s reach is too absolute, too unyielding to be truly just. 

“Like that case down in Biloxi,” Valerie finally speaks. “Can’t believe that gets to happen.”

Biloxi is too far down south for his comfort, and he looks away from her one-eyed gaze.

Ilse lights up at the possibility of another story, and leans forward. “Tell us!” she claps her hands. 

Valerie looks uncomfortable at being the centre of attention. “Old factory or something; big fire there years ago. Bit of a local legend, thought I��d go poking around - apparently it’s haunted and once you go in, you never come out again, according to the locals.”

They all look at her, waiting for the punchline, the discovery.

“And?” Bowie prompts, tapping his fingers against his knee. 

“You could smell the bodies when you got close, smell whoever is there,” Valerie turned back to stare at Jasper. “I left. Not getting involved with shit like that. The place stunk of crazy.”

“Wow,” Eugene looks curious but also thoughtful. “D’you see them?”

“No. Glad I didn’t,” Valerie scowled. “Didn’t even going inside. Should’ve set the place on fire.”

“I wonder why no one does anything,” Isle asks, leaning back to look at the stars and he wonders the very same thing. 

It’s a thought that lingers.

—

He expected the factory site to be swallowed up by the forest, a forgotten and haunted place swallowed up by moss and kudzu.

He’s very wrong.

It’s definitely a haunted place, he wasn’t wrong about that. 

The forest keeps well enough away from it, a fucking wound in the middle of nowhere. The iron and stone fence around the property have long since collapsed into the grass, like something great and terrible has given up the fight. The remains of the building jut out from the ground, ugly grey concrete and smashed windows. Most of it is devastated by the fire, crumpled and forgotten - the stains of smoke still blistered on the remains. But the entrance building is somehow, just barely, standing. 

Broken furniture, even rotting doors, are scattered in the long grass around the entrance like bones jutting out of earth. Whatever figure - a saint, an angel, a god - that once adorned the cracked fountain out the front of the entrance has been rendered to rubble and dust, leaving behind only a pair of barely-recognisable feet. 

Factories don’t usually have fountains. Or bars over the windows. 

He’s amazed it’s been left like this; that no human has come forward to rebuild, to tear down, to make anew. It’s odd and uncomfortable that it is left in such a way. 

The gardens are dead and the trees withered. The grass snaps and crunches under his feet, dry and brittle. There is no moss, no mould. Some dead vines have entwined themselves through windows and the pockmarked holes in the walls, but there is nothing alive here. This is not a place where things live and thrive, almost unreal in how … how angry this place is. 

It wants him gone. It wants to chase him away and simmer in its rage. 

But for some reason, he keeps moving, pushing through the rotting doors carefully. 

And it’s like the whole building takes a breathe.

—

The bodies aren’t hard to find. 

Not that there’s a smell; well, there’s a lingering smell, but that’s the blood that has pooled on the ground and dried, the top layer powdery and metallic. These bodies are old, a collection of bones inside rotting cloth that still smells like fat and sweat and piss and blood. But nothing fresh. They are scattered around, five of them, decomposing where they fell. A single bloody handprint rests on the wall, luminous against the soggy-looking grey wallpaper. 

It’s the same throughout the first floor - more than a dozen forgotten rooms, several of them laid with bodies. He finds bones snapped clean, ground to a dust, fractured and sharp. A bloody footprint, a discarded shoe. 

One of the rooms is covered in shelves of books that dissolve at his touch, let alone have decipherable titles. But the evidence appears in the rows and rows of filthy jars. He’s not foolish enough to open one, but several have exploded (or perhaps been smashed) and left a pulpy organic mess behind, rotting fantastically, discoloured and difficult to look at, even for a man who is intimate with most forms of dismemberment. He smears off the dust of those  jars somehow still intact and is unsurprised to see a human brain, a swollen heart, a curled over foetus.

It confirms his suspicions. Some kind of medical setting, most likely for women. The desk is little more than kindling and it feels odd that these have somehow survived, unmarked. That so much of this office is untouched. The dust is layered in such a way that he can tell someone has ventured in here, but not for a while. 

A file is scattered on the floor, and he stops to pick it up. Most of it is indecipherable from the elements, but a smudged photo of a woman - naked and haunted and emaciated and with enormous bruises overlapping has survived. Even in a cloudy photograph, her eyes bored into his. 

Some kind of medical facility, and not a kind one. 

— 

The basement is a place he doesn’t venture.

The doors hang limply from the frame, the glass broken and long gone. The cold air that blows up the rotting stairs smells fouler than anything else. He can’t see anything in the darkness, and something about it just makes him turn away. 

He’s not a superstitious man, even if some of the men he had soldiered with as a human were. Maria had her own beliefs and traditions, usually from hard-worn experiences. 

But this place, this fucking tomb… the anger that this place wraps itself in… it makes him wonder about a lot of things he would have dismissed in the harsh light of day.

Another room, more bodies. 

But younger, this time. Fresher. Newer than many of the others. 

That makes him pause. The clothes are a giveaway, how modern they are. The heads thrown back against the wall, limbs entangled, the dried blood stain blooming on the wallpaper behind them like some kind of demented halo. A plastic hair ornament clings to a clump of brittle hair, a bag open at their side and the items scattered around. 

He’s not foolish enough to write off all the bodies he has seen as victims of a fire. But these ones… they make him wonder. This is not the practice of someone who wants a long life. This is a huge mess, one the Volturi will be forced to clean up. 

They’ll have to come soon. There are just too many bodies. 

—

He looks back once and nearly trips over as he spins back around to regard the older building. 

A split second of a face, pale and bloody, appears at a window. Fast enough that even with his senses, he wonders if he really saw it. 

Them. 

Her.  

He watches a while longer before he turns to leave the hospital behind to its rage, the glimpse of her face. 

He tries to pretend he’s not planning on coming back. 

Who are you?

—

She watches him leave from the shadows, behind a filthy window. 

(He wasn’t supposed to leave.)

Her head starts to ache again, and that means the pictures will return soon and it’s very, very bad if she’s out of the dark when that happens. 

And she folds herself back down into the dark of the basement, hair stiff with rotting blood and dotted with maggots, black eyes wide and barely seeing as her fingers guide her back down to safety. 

She’s glad he’s gone. 

(But he wasn’t supposed to leave. That’s not how it happens.)