#wood handrail post

[londynwatson]

Mudroom Foyer Inspiration for a mid-sized eclectic medium tone wood floor foyer remodel with beige walls

[parkeremerson]

Mudroom Foyer Inspiration for a mid-sized eclectic medium tone wood floor foyer remodel with beige walls

[isuckatwritingsobenice]

Infernal Shadows 02

Synopsis: Being one of the most powerful overlords in Hell, you like to keep up with colonies and overlord plans. Recently with the new extermination date out, you hold your annual gala sooner than usual. You hadn’t expected to get in the middle of the already heated feud between the Radio Demon and the head of Vox Tech.

Warnings: She/Her pronouns used for the reader, mentions of blood, voodoo?, Angel Dust being a horn-bag, Reader is referred too as Madame to the public. Vox and Alastor feud because I live for it.

Song for this chapter: HAUSER - Adagio (Albinoni)

A/N: I’m so glad part one did well! I really liked this idea and hoped other people would too. As always comment if you want to be tagged and I will tag you in the next post! I wanted this to be three parts, but depending on how much I can fit in this chapter and the next one, I’ll see if I need to make four parts. The song at the beginning of this chapter is meant to be played when the line “ The music picked up” Is read. Skip to 5:35 for it to play smoothly, or as smoothly as possible.

Word count: 3.k or something over that idk I got too lazy to count :(

Taglist: @dollops-of-delusion @nebusokuxp @scrunchss @rosedasy @valluvz @chesstras @pishybowl @iaaeav @forgotten-blues @22carolina08 @roboticsuccubus83 @doflamingadonquixote

Navigation!! // Masterlist!!! // Serendipity Writes (event) // Part One. // Part three.

Within, the grand foyer unveiled itself, revealing a sweeping staircase adorned with a rich, mahogany handrail in stark contrast against a black and white color scheme. Crystal chandeliers, dangling from lofty black ceilings, cast their brilliance upon white walls adorned with ornate mirrors. Plush Victorian-era furnishings, upholstered in rich black and white fabrics, adorned the parlor rooms, establishing cozy settings for guests to assemble and engage in enriching conversations. Each room murmured tales of a past era – intricately patterned black and white wallpaper, frames gilded in black to showcase classical art, and a subtle aroma of aged wood and lavender lingering in the air, harmonizing with the monochromatic elegance. The guests walking in all marveled at the details of the mansion.

Charlotte and Vagatha both stepped in, Charlotte in awe of the detailing. A shadow figure bent down slightly to offer her a drink, to which she happily took.

“Vaggie this is all so beautiful. I hope I can make a good impression.” Charlotte said, turning to her partner to ease her nerves. Vagatha just smiled, a hand on her shoulder lovingly.

“You’re gonna do great babe, besides, there’s so many people here, if one likes it I’m sure other people will get on board too.” Vagatha said.

“Or they can laugh at you if one person points out how ridiculous it is.” Husk said, chugging his drink before placing it back on the servers tray.

“Thanks for the kind words Husk.” Vagatha said sarcastically. He just shrugged, looking towards the bar area which was practically calling him over.

Upstairs in your room, you stared at yourself in the mirror as your shadows made the finishing touches on your outfit. Draped in a long, elegant black gown that gracefully embraced your commanding figure, the fabric cascaded like shadows. Delicate chain motifs intertwine with the dress, creating an alluring dance of darkness. A chain belt cinches your waist, a subtle nod to your captivating ability to ensnare and command over your shadows. Completing the regalia, silver chain cuffs adorn your wrists, reflecting both power and refinement.

“Madame, the guests are all in the lobby awaiting your arrival.” One of the shadows said. You nodded, stepping down from your showcase, winking to yourself in the mirror before chuckling to yourself. A shadow approaches you, bowing in respect before holding out a tray with your drink, a contrast to your dark colors. You take the glass in your hand, another shadow lightly putting a thermometer in your drink so it’s the perfect temperature for you, fifteen point five degrees Celsius. The liquid is a light yellow-ish green, Lafite-Rothschild, an expensive French wine you tried in 1906 when you were alive. Lifting it to your lips, you take a long sip and sigh, the spicy and earth notes, mixed with a hint of tobacco and red Barrie’s dance on your tongue like a performance of Gavotte. You pull back with a sigh, setting the glass down, a perfect Ridel Vinum Bordeaux, personally crafted for you as the bottom of the glass is a Smokey black, fading into clear glass towards the top.

“Let’s get this Gala started shall we~?”

In the lobby, guests were socializing amongst themselves. Velvet, Vox and Valentino had split for a short while. After the incident outside, the two overlords wouldn’t stop tantalizing the picture box about his fit of frustration dealing with the Radio Demon. From the lobby, there were large crystal doors revealing the back exterior of the house. The greenery was just perfect, with cobblestone flooring revealing another bloody fountain. Vox stood with his drink, speaking to some sinner he couldn’t remember the name of, about how well his business was going.

“You ever get,” Vox asked, eyeing one of the shadows who stood in a corner, white eyes soulless as they held out drinks to guests. “Creeped out by those, things?” Vox asked, turning back to the sinner. He just scoffed.

“Please, they’re always around and as far as I know, harmless.” The sinner said. At that, a shadow appeared between the two, taking their empty glasses and replacing it with new, full ones. Vox tried his hardest not to seem alarmed at this, and took the glass silently, sipping his drink slowly as it floated away. It was then he took in the shadows appearance. They all looked the same. Tall figures, Smokey outlines, but no feel or hands, just a faded end to their limbs. Their eyes were white and soulless, almost as it they were vacant, a shell of what they used to be. There were no facial features, just two white circles and a thin white line for their mouth. Each one however, had a light Smokey chain around their chest, wrapped in the shape of an X.

“What are the chains for then? They’re pretty much smoke, what do they need chains forever?” Vox asked. The associate laughed, but before he could answer, another overlord stepped in.

“They have chains because they’re claimed souls.” Fredrick Von Eldritch says, his sister Bethesda in toe. The two grin, a shadow following behind them with a tray of their drinks. “If you get invited to the gala long enough, you get a personal one.” He said with a wink, gesturing to the shadow behind the two.

“They’re quite cute once you get used to them.” Bethesda said with a smile, cooing at the shadow lightly. Yet, it still remained expressionless.

“Actually, now that you say that.” The sinner says, looking around for a moment. “It’s been awfully quiet with a laugh track being played.” He says, referring to Alastor. Vox just rolls his eyes.

“Who gives a shit about where that old timey freak is?” Vox asks. Fredrick and Bethesda snicker to each other, catching Vox’s attention.

“Probably hunting for his dear Madame.” Bethesda said dramatically, laying her head on her brothers shoulder and batting her lashes playfully. Fredrick and the sinner laughed at his sisters antics, but Vox grew serious.

“What does that mean? He knows her?” Vox asked, to which Fredrick scoffed, finishing his drink before reaching for another off the shadows server tray.

“Of course he does. She died before him, and they’re the closest overlords in time period. Well, aside from Zestial and her.” Fredrick explained. Vox didn’t say anything else, instead looking to the red ‘moon’ of hell, before glancing at the blood fountain. He had heard rumors about being at the Madame’s table, and how she gave the inside to all her projects and plans before the next extermination. Apparently, this year was supposed to be ‘different’ as people had been talking.

“When does this dinner start anyway? We’ve been standing out here for two hours.” Vox said annoyed.

“In a few minutes, Madame will make her grand entrance. She will socialize with the guests as it is polite to have one on one time with them. Then she will spend the rest of the time while the orchestra gets together deciding on contenders to sit at her table.” A shadow walking by said, stopping to stare at Vox. “Madame is always watching.” It then said, turning to serve other guests. Vox said nothing, instead turning on his heel and making his way inside the mansion. How could someone feel suffocated outside? Fredrick and Bethesda said nothing, watching him go, but sharing a glance between each other before making their leave too, leaving the sinner all by his lonesome.

Inside, Charlotte and Vagatha conversed about how she could get people behind her project.

“Maybe if I sing-“

“Please no. These people are too…” Vagatha said, glancing around the room. Everyone seemed too, fake. Vagatha knew Charlotte being herself around these people would do absolutely no good to the hotel, and though she hated telling Charlotte these things, she knew her kindness would be frowned upon, and made fun of. “Serious for that kind of thing.” Vagatha finished, taking a sip of her champagne. She settled for champagne in a flute while Charlotte drank water, wanting to hydrate herself in hopes to calm her nerves.

“I heard that Madame might be making her entrance soon.” Charlotte said nervously, looking around. She half expected her parents to show up, but knew how they rarely liked getting involved in overlord affairs. She’d be surprised if they showed up.

“Then when she does you can try to pitch your idea to her.” Vagatha said supportively. Charlotte just smiled and nodded, hoping someone would listen to her. She had tried practicing on two sinners moments ago, to which they both laughed and called her delusional. The defeat was beginning to get to her, and she hadn’t even started yet.

With Velvet, she began studying the interior of the old-styled mansion. She was trying her hardest to not be too rude about it, but of course she had her comments, but ultimately kept them to herself. Cramoisie, your fashion line, was the top fashion brand in hell, everyone wanted a piece of it. Velvet had never had an article for herself, despite trying her hardest to get something, anything, even a sample. But people feigned for it like drugs. Velvets line was successful sure, but with your validation and guidance, she could become perfection, the same way you were. Everyone in hell looked up to you, shit, you had even gotten Lilith’s praise as she was photographed wearing a custom piece you designed for her. Your work was art in its purist form, and Velvet kept a close eye on her other colleagues to make sure they didn’t fuck your chance up. Velvet had her assistant hold samples and sketches of designs Velvet had been working on, wanting to show you her best work in hopes of winning you over. She could brag about having you support her line, and her fans would die of excitement. Maybe, she could get you to design her a custom piece, or Velvet could design one for you. The possibilities were limitless, if you agreed to meet with her of course. But that was all the more reason why she needed to make sure she had a seat at your table tonight. She needed to get close to you.

“Are you fucking high?” Velvet whispered to Valentino, who just chuckled softly at her.

“What’s the matter hermosa? Just enjoy the Gala, we’re here to have fun right?” He asked with a giggle. Velvet huffed, deciding to find Vox, hoping he could straighten Valentino out. Valentino would not fuck up her chance tonight.

Near the large staircase in the middle of the room, Alastor stood, glass of whiskey in his clawed hands. He smiles, humming to himself while quietly back up into a wall, careful to scan the room quickly before he disappears into the shadows. Then, moments later, appears in a room separate from the gala. It’s a study, your study. Alastor takes a step forward and quickly the shadows in the room seemed to deepen, casting larger, more dramatic silhouettes that seemed to dance on the walls. The interplay of darkness and light only heightened the mysterious allure of the study. In the midst of this chiaroscuro ambiance, Alastor found himself surrounded by an atmosphere that mirrored the complex nature of the figure depicted in the portrait hanging above the fireplace, which was in the far back wall of the study. It was the only light source in the room. Black wooden shelves lined against the tall walls, showcasing famous pieces of literature, all hand picked and to your liking. The fire place, crafted with dark marble, commanded his attention. Above the mantel, a striking portrait of Madame hung, capturing his focus, like a trance. The image portrayed a being universally admired, yet equally feared; someone who elicited both admiration and intimidation all at once, you.

“Hm, hiding now are we?” Alastor asks with a grin, tutting lightly. “That’s not very proper of you Madame~” He says, calling out to you. Seconds later, a dark shadow appears in the corner of the room, taking up the entire corner, before a shadowy figure steps out. Similar to the servant’s out in the lobby, Alastor’s eye twitch’s slightly.

“Oh don’t be so pissy. You know no one gets to see me before my entrance.” You say, the shadow expressionless, but Alastor can hear your tone through the figure, taunting him. He sighs, setting his staff on a slant along his foot.

“And here I thought I could connect with an old friend.” Alastor said with a chuckle, staring down the shadowy figure, hoping his gaze would ease you to show yourself to him. But alas, stuck in your ways, you didn’t show yourself, instead laughing, though the figure did not open its mouth, making your ‘shadow a-presence’ all the more eerie.

“If you really want to speak with me it can wait until my entrance. I should be done soon.” You say, before Alastor just smiles, tossing his staff from hand to hand.

“Well if you’re really going to make me wait, mind you speed the process up a bit? You know it doesn’t take much to make you look breath-taking.” Alastor compliments, but earns a scoff from you.

“Oh please, don’t start with me ‘Radio Demon.’” You mock, before the shadow figure begins to step back.

“Wait, a moment before you go.” Alastor says, standing his staff on the floor. The shadow figure stops, before you speak again.

“Make it quick. You know how much energy it takes to keep this up.” You say.

“So, about this hotel business. I know she’s planning to talk to you about it.”

“Yes the idea you tell me so much about.” You say sarcastically. Alastor had told you bits and pieces about the princess’s project, but didn’t tell you what it was for exactly, leaving you to wonder how important it really was if even he wouldn’t speak on it.

“Well you know how much I crave entertainment. Is it possible to make a request for the seating arraignment tonight?” Alastor asks. You laugh, figure still unmoving.

“Humorous to think you even have a seat. You’ve been gone for what? Seven years?” You say with a scoff.

“You’ve been gone decades my dear, you didn’t even show up to your last twenty gala’s, having your pity shadows do it for you. I doubt you should be speaking on the matter.”

At that, you chuckle to yourself before the shadow begins to back into the corner, black smoke enveloping the corner like a cloud. “I presume you would be correct. Well, I’m off now. Don’t sneak into my quarters again.” You say finally before disappearing. Alastor just grins, stepping into his own shadow, joining the other guests.

The shadows had slowly but, eventually ushered the guests into the lobby, everyone gathering around the staircase as the shadows lined up against the railings, the orchestra playing the music you had specifically requested. You were about to make your grand entrance, something you hadn’t done in centuries. Everyone stood around, awaiting your arrival, the shadows momentarily disappearing to give the guests more space to crowd around. Candles lit along the walls, as well as floating lights appearing going up the staircase. There, the shadows took their place, two on each step on opposite sides, facing each other. The music picked up, the lights focusing at the top of the stairs. Black smoke began to roll down the steps slowly, the anticipation for your arrival growing. The music gets calm for a moment, a larger shadow figure standing at the top of the staircase. It’s larger than any of the other shadows in the room, standing at fifteen feet tall. It speaks in a monotone voice, but loud and commanding.

“Thank you all for your attendance tonight. The Crimson Gala is held once every year to start the new year with all those who survived the extermination. This being said, Madame would like to say her personal congratulations for not being apart of the bloodshed this year. While the past years she has used me to say that she will unfortunately not be in attendance, I am pleased to say that tonight, along with all the new guests, she will make her grand entrance. Presenting to you, the prowess of darkness and queen of shadows, Madame.”

The lights shine bright, and the shadow vanishes quickly. Velvet shushes Vox and Valentino, eyes practically bulging out of her skull to see you. Alastor just stares, waiting in anticipation. Charlie claps her hands quietly to herself while Vaggie just smiles. Rosie sips her glass, eyes waiting to see what outfit you’ve put together this time. At the top of the staircase, a large black smokey circle opens at the bottom of the floor, smoke swirling upwards slowly in a tornado form, smoke getting quicker as it swirls around itself. It gets larger, and guests closer to the stairs have to back up a bit as the wind picks up. Carmilla turns her face to the side, not wanting the wind to mess up her hair too much. Finally, the music picks up again, the peak point in the song, which lasts eight seconds, before the smoke falls to the side in one swoop, leaving you in the midst, now on display for all guests to see. The music continues, the chains against your dress glistening under the light. The music continues the play as you take steps down, looking at the guests. There’s a serious expression on your face, but somehow neutral all the same. Your shadows had added last minute black lace gloves, which went up to your forearm. The bottom of your dress had a lace trimming, as well as the bodice being laced with trim along the bust area. The jewelry was a simple black diamond crystal on a metal chain around your neck, paired with black diamond earrings. The cuff links on your hand remained all the same though. Finally reaching the end of the steps, everyone clapped, now finally being graced with your presence.

Velvet was in awe, staring at you with wide eyes like a child being gifted the most precious thing. Her excitement grew enormously, watching you shake hands and socialize with guests. She had never seen you before, after you had gone ghost for centuries, hardly anyone had photos of you. Hell she didn’t even know what you sounded like.

Charlie was so excited to meet you. She hadn’t seen you in, forever, and was now finally excited to be seen as your equal. Well, that was what she had hoped at least. Having seen a portrait of you in her parents' home when she was younger, she learned of the close relationship between Lilith and you. The anticipation had built over the years, and now, finally, she looked forward to being seen as your equal. Her hope was to hopefully get your support for the hotel, aiming to elevate her standing in the eyes of others. With your backing, she believed people would take both her and the redemption project more seriously, fostering a genuine desire for redemption. Maybe it would even work.

Husk smiled as he watched you socialize with guests. He was glad to finally see you back out again. He never knew why you went into hiding of course, but he never had the balls to ask, so he just stood quiet. When you disappeared, it was after a particularly rough extermination, and he knew something had happened, he just didn’t know what. Since then, the world only had glimpses of you to go on. Some sinners were starting to think you were a myth, since you never showed your face at the Crimson Gala, especially since you were the host.

Vox was taken aback, a sense of confusion and unease settling within him. Your presence had caught him off guard; he had anticipated something different, perhaps an older figure. The unexpected impact left him feeling uneasy, realizing the gravity of your influence. It dawned on him why Velvet had stressed the importance of making a favorable impression. Apart from Zestial and the twins, you stood as one of the strongest and most enduring overlords. In Vox's mind, securing your alliance was imperative for the success of his company. Your potential support would make his endeavors foolproof. Everything had to be flawless – not for any personal reasons, of course, but solely for the sake of his company. He needed you.

Making your rounds to guests, you began to get closer to your colleagues. With a wave to Stolas, and a nod to Zeezie, you run into the Radio Demon himself, Alastor. He grins, sharp teeth getting you. He smiles and nods his head, and you nod back. Alastor takes in your stoic expression, before carefully taking in your outfit.

“My, my, Madame, you’ve truly outdone yourself tonight. Your choice in attire is as captivating as ever – a perfect blend of elegance and sensibility. Quite the spectacle for the grand event, don’t you think?” He asked, holding his arm out to you. You take it, and the two of you walk around the lobby together, conversing.

“Well you don’t look to bad for yourself. Maybe going into hibernation was perfect for you.” You say back, and he grins.

“You’re too kind darling.” He says, dead heart quickening. He puts a hand to his chest, mocking fragility. “Your words leave me breathless my dear.” He says with false dramatics. You roll your eyes and smack his arm playfully.

“Oh please, your ego is quite large enough already, yes?” You ask. He doesn’t say much else, but instead, gently moves you to the side while you look at your shadows, now waltzing around in the middle of the lobby, putting on a performance.

“Did you plan that?” Alastor asks. You shake your head.

“No, but the music is perfect for it, so I let them be. They’re already trapped with me, I might as well make them useful.” You say, and Alastor just hums, a laugh track playing. However, as the two of you walk, his track screeches to a halt upon seeing Vox approach the two of you.

“Madame.” Vox says, nodding his head. His expression is serious, and though you’ve heard of him, you’ve never seen him.

“Ah hello. Vox I presume?” You ask, free hand reaching forward to shake his own outstretched hand. The two of you shake hands, and Alastor can’t ignore the way he fights to keep his smile. Why he could just shove his staff right into that flace faced fuckers scree-

“Alastor, I suppose you’ve met Mr.Vox before, correct?” You ask. Alastor nods with a smile, and you notice the way it stretches almost painfully across his face. It makes you uneasy, but you ignore the feeling. He’d surely tell about what this is about later on in the night you supposed.

“Why yes we have! I’ve made him loose his signal quite a few times.” Alastor says with a laugh, his laugh track playing. Vox doesnt say anything, though he doesnt have too as his eye twitching had given enough away. The two clearly did not like each other. Than again, you had felt the same way about Alastor when you first met him, so the feeling was understandable.

“Madame, a dance?” Vox asked, turning his attention back to you. You thought for a moment, before untangling your arm from Alastors and nodding to Vox, taking his outstretched hand to you and leading you to the dance floor, which now had a couple other sinners dancing as well. Alastor held onto his staff tight, but relaxed as you discreetly slid him a card. In white with black lettering, cursive font. Seat number five. He was invited to your table. Guaranteed a seat. That was enough to have him back in light spirits, now searching out his dear friend Rosie to share the good news.

Velvet had been looking for you all over, her assistant close in toe. She had tried her hardest to get to you when you initially made your enterance, but alas you had been too overcrowded with people for her to get to you. She had heard rumors about how you hated rudeness and disrespect. That meant no interruptions, and no loud speaking, or vulgar language. She was sure to keep herself in check, and that meant her colleagues too. So, naturally, you could imagine her shock upon seeing Vox dancing with you on the dance floor, black dress twirling at your feet. You looked so regal, so elegant, flawless. She wanted to be just like you. She waited patiently on the sidelines, waiting for the dance to end. She could see the two of you having a conversation, but couldn’t pinpoint what about.

“So, I presume you’re one of the, newer overlords?” You asked as the two of you danced. Vox chuckled, leading you slowly.

“New? Well, maybe to you I would be. I heard you haven’t really left your own head for quite some time.” Vox says lowly. You nod, letting him dip you.

“Yes that would be correct. So what are you supposed to be exactly?” You ask, quite unsure of his purpose. Overlords are meant to have a strong leading purpose in hell, so what was his?

“Well, you’re looking at the head of Vox Tech. A software company.” He says, and you hum in understanding.

“So modern technology.” You confirm, and he nods, pearly whites shining brightly back at you.

“You’re looking at the future Madame.” Vox says, spinning you quickly, before bringing you close by your hip.

“Interesting. So, what’s your social influence?” You ask. Vox thinks for a moment, before laughing to himself.

“People have televisions in all their homes. Any piece of modern technology comes strictly from me. With a little mind control, there isn’t any influence I don’t have.” Vox says, noticing a sinner walk by with a smart watch, to which he holds a finger up to you, sending himself through it, and then to another sinner with their smartphone, making his way around the room in seconds before he’s back in front of you, stepping in time for the next number. “See? Nothing I can’t do.” He says with a wink. You nod slowly, looking around the room. Being back out in the spotlight after being gone for so long makes you feel a bit, behind. But with an overlord like this in your circle, maybe this could be a way for you to keep up with the current world, get you back up to pace. The dance finally comes to a close, and the two of you bow to one another, before you summon a card, handing it to Vox. Seat number nine. Vox grinned at you, giving you a nod. You nod back, before looking at another sinner who’s asked to speak with you. With that, you leave Vox at the dance floor, white card in hand. His spot at your table was secured. But, this made his emotions churn even more. What was this feeling he had? He was happy yes, but for the companies sake. But, maybe for once, he could mix just a little business with pleasure.

Charlotte had lost her partner at the bar and had been looking for her for quite some time. However, instead of finding Vagatha, she found you instead. You had seemed to be finishing a conversation with Vox, and though she disliked him, she took her chance the moment she saw you walking away.

“Excuse me, Madame- Miss- Um.” Charlotte said quickly, causing you to stop in your tracks. She got closer to you, now a few inches away. It was then she realized how tall you were compared to her. You were easily around seven feet, or just under that. With your heels that was. You looking down at her made her feel intimidated, small, like the child. But, feeling her nerves rise, she began to ramble again. “I know you probably have a lot to do tonight and I don’t want to take up your time, I just want you to hear me out, if that’s okay with you of course.” Charlotte said quickly, pausing to inhale. You narrowed your eyes at her, snapping your fingers and causing a shadow to appear next to you, singular glass on the tray. It was the same tall shadow from earlier, with the same drink. Again, using testing the temperature of the drink, before nodding to you so you could take it. You lifted the glass to your lips, maintaining eye contact with Charlotte as you drank the wine in one go, putting it down on the tray with a sigh.

“Go on.” You replied, now intrigued. You knew who she was. “You’re the girl with the hotel? Lucifer and Lilith’s child, correct?” You asked. Charlotte smiled, stars appearing in her eyes as she gushed.

“You know who I am?” She asked surprised. You nodded, cracking a small smile for the first time tonight, causing many eyes to stare in shock. You hardly ever smiled. In fact, there were three counts ever of you smiling in hell. Once, when you first got to hell, killing and claiming territory, and smiling once you finally settled down. The second being after World War One, when so many souls came to you seeking ‘help’ yet only being met with contracts. Third, being just before the extermination you disappeared after. You had gone through your belongings from Earth that managed to get brought to you from the surface, and was looking at family photos with one other overlord. Zestial. Now, at the gala, here was Lucifer’s brat, as some would call, making you crack a grin at her giddiness.

“Of course I know who you are. Do you forget I know your mother? You’re practically a niece of mine at this point.” You say, motioning at Charlotte to walk with you. “Now, what is this hotel I’ve heard about?” You ask. She beams at this and follows excitedly.

“OkaysobasicallyIhavethishotelandit’scalledthe’HazbinHotel’whichisforsinnerswhowantobebetterandredeemthemselvestotryand-“ You stopped her, allowing her to take a breath of air after rambling for so long. You lead her outside, finding a nearby bench to sit on. With how quickly she spoke, she needed all the ‘fresh’ air she could get right?

“Why are you speaking so quickly? Also, sinners who want to better themselves? Where would you find those?” You ask with a laugh, the same tall shadow appearing with a glass for you. Again, you sip on your drink as Charlotte collects herself together.

“Usually if I explain slowly people cut me off and I never get to finish, so I’ve gotten used to just saying everything as quickly as possible so they don’t cut me off and actually listen to what I have to say.” Charlotte says, again rather quickly. “Like I was saying; the Hazbin Hotel is a place for sinners who want to better themselves to possibly try to get into heaven through redemption, and I know what you’re thinking, we’ve all died and got sent here, but I believe people can change and that everyone deserves second chances.” Charlotte explained. She saw the look of confusion on your face, and began to speak again. “We already have two residents, who are making strides to be better people every day with group activities and I believe it’s working. If I could just get other people on board, people like you on board who actually believe in my cause, then we can get rid of extermination and maybe save some people here.” Charlotte explained. You thought for a moment, and the fact you hadn’t laughed in her face yet gave her some hope that maybe she had gotten through to you. You stood up, setting your empty glass on the tray before the shadow disappeared.

“Honestly,” You said with a sigh, looking around, your eyes landing on your shadows serving other guests. “The entire project sounds delusional.” You said sharply. Charlotte looked down at this, defeated, before standing as well.

“Well, thank you for hearing me out I guess. You’re the only other person who has aside from Alastor. So, thank you for your time.” Charlotte said, turning to walk back inside the gala, head hanging low with tears brimming her eyes. Maybe it was the connection to her mother, maybe it was because she reminded you of her mother. But, something had to change.

“I didn’t say we were done speaking Charlotte.” You said sharply again. She stopped and tensed up at that, before turning around, wiping a tear that slipped down her cheek.

“W-what?” She asked. You stepped forward to her, putting your hands flat together before smoke encased them. Then seconds later it was gone, and in your hands was a white card. You handed it to her with a nod.

“It sounds delusional. But, maybe someone will like that about you.” You said. She read the card, face dropping once she realized what it meant.

“So, so I can sit with you tonight? I can pitch my idea?” She asked excitedly. You nodded, patting her shoulder.

“Yes you may. I’ll allow you to have your time. You get thirty minutes, there will be overlords and royalty there, I’m sure someone is bound to take an interest in it.” You say. Charlotte squeals excitedly before jumping up and down, clapping her hands.

“Oh my goodness! Thank you so so so much!! You won’t regret this I swear!” Charlotte said, and you just nodded.

“Of course I won’t. I don’t make mistakes.” You say, before walking past her. “Oh, and thank Alastor for that. He was insistent you be present at my table tonight.” You say to her. She’s left standing outside in shock, watching as you walk back into the lobby to socialize with other guests.

It seemed Velvet had finally caught you, rushing her assistant to follow you as she made her way over to you.

“Madame, you look absolutely breathtaking tonight! Your presence here is like a beacon of individuality and charisma,” she exclaims, eyes sparkling. You look her up and down for a moment, stopping in your tracks to listen to her. Something feels, odd about this one. “I’ve been ardently following your unique style for ages, and it’s truly an honor to be in your presence. The way you effortlessly blend boldness with subtlety, it’s unparalleled, truly outstanding. Now, I’ve ventured into a daring new fashion brand, and I can’t help but envision you as the unrivaled star in my collection. Picture it: the illustrious Madame, gracing the world with a revolutionary expression of style. This would be the perfect way to make your way back into the public eye, and of course you would look ravishing doing so.” Velvet said, her assistant handing you sketches of Velvets designs, and photographs of some of her work on her models. “So, what do you say Madame? Will you be the luminary of a new era in Hell’s fashion?” Velvet says. You grow quiet for a moment. Aside from Rosie, you’ve had no other overlord come into the fashion realm, and Rosie is only partially in it as a side hustle, but everyone knows it’s your thing. The designs are things you would never wear, bold and odd colors together, like a child’s clothing line.

“Is this for children?” You ask. Velvet nearly chokes and her assistant tenses up.

“No Madame. It’s modern fashion.” Velvet says cautiously. She knows what she’s doing. Correcting you. No one ever does that. You don’t need to be corrected because you know what you’re looking at. A sad fashion designer who wants you to slap your name on her sloppy work so if it goes up in flames it’s your reputation taking the fall, not her’s.

“So all your models look like they came from a whore house? Correct?” You ask. Velvet’s jaw drops and her assistant hides a laugh. Velvet, inhaling softly, tries her hardest not to cry on the spot. You’re her idol. She can’t fuck this up.

“No Madame! Not at all!” She says, showing you a design she had made personally for you. Based on your other collections, she knows your favorite color is black, so that’s a plus. All she had to do was add a bit more, of her flair to it. It was a black jumpsuit, with a fur coat that dropped down to the knees, black with white fur around the edges of the coat and the cuffs. The sketch wasn’t half bad, and quite frankly better than the others. Maybe it was the forgiving mood Charlotte had put you in. Velvet hands you the design and you skim over it, taking in the details, the hair and eye makeup, the shoes and jewelry notes written on the side. The sketches aren’t bad, but modern fashion isn’t your fashion.

“I’ll consider it. Do you mind if I keep these?” You ask. Velvet shakes her head, handing you the folder from her assistants hands.

“Please, take whatever you’d like Madame!” Velvet says. You nod, flipping through the pages.

“You’ll hear from me soon. In the meantime, I want new sketches of these designs. Modern fashion is fast fashion. Nothing stays memorable that way. You want to be good?” You ask her, and she nods quickly. “Then be better. Modesty and elegance are what people strive for. It radiates power, and everyone is greedy for that. If you can sell that through an item, you won’t ever go out of style.” You say, handing her back the folder, keeping the sketch she’d done for you. Well, at least you liked something. Vevelt nodded her head and watched you walk away, letting out a sigh of relief.

“Um, miss?” Her assistant asked.

“What?” Velvet asked annoyingly.

“She left a card on the folder.”

At that , Velvets eyes snapped down at the folder, before she screamed in excitement. Seat number six. She was invited to your table. Mission accomplished. Now, with only six seats left to fill, you were off to talk to your other guests. The night had proved to be interesting, and you knew your encore would not disappoint.

[lonestarbattleship]

May 23, 2024 Update from the Battleship Texas Foundation

"BATTLESHIP TEXAS UPDATE

The ship is currently moored at Pier D in Gulf Copper Shipyard where it will continue to undergo repairs and preparations to become a museum ship once again!

The ship is currently moored at Pier D in Gulf Copper Shipyard where it will continue to undergo repairs and preparations to become a museum ship once again!

DECK REPAIRS: The pine decking on the ship's bow and superstructure deck has been removed. Workers have started to sandblast the steel deck and make any necessary repairs. Once those repairs conclude, the steel deck will be properly coated and a pressure treated pine decking will be laid. Yes, some of this wood is being saved to produce items to raise funds.

For more information on the deck click here: link

DECK REPAIRS: The decking on the ship's bow and superstructure deck has been removed. Steelworkers have begun locating and repairing any pinholes found in the steel deck. A pressure treated pine will be put back on the deck once a proper coating has been applied. Yes, some of this wood is being saved to produce items to raise funds. For more information on the deck click here: link

Damage found on the ship's steel deck. This area will be repaired before the pine decking is laid down.

These holes are where deck bolts used to secure the ship's decking. The new fasteners will fill these holes once the new decking goes down.

The stars at night.. Light shines into the ship's aircastle from where bolts have been removed.

SMOKE STACK REPAIR: The ship's smoke stack is being repaired so that it becomes watertight. Both the whistle piping and siren will be added when repairs conclude.

The ship's smoke stack is being repaired so that it becomes watertight. Both the whistle piping and siren will be added when repairs conclude.

TURRET WATER SHEDS: The turret water sheds are being removed from the turrets to be repaired. There is a considerable amount of corrosion between the layers of steel that needs to be addressed before the ship is repainted.

The turret water sheds are being removed from the turrets to be repaired. There is a considerable amount of corrosion between the layers of steel that needs to be addressed before the ship is repainted.

5"/51 CAL. GUN RESTORATION: Two of the three 5"/51 cal. Guns have been placed back on the ship's portside. The last mount will be placed back later this week.

Looking forward on the ship's portside.

Two of the three 5"/51 cal. guns have been placed back on the ship's portside after their restoration. The last gun will be going on later this week.

FREQUENTLY ASKED QUESTIONS:

WHAT’S NEXT? - Battleship Texas will remain at Gulf Copper Shipyard for until her new home is ready for her. Additional steel work, replacement of the ship’s deck, aft fire control restoration, and painting will be done during this time.

Workers repair the handrails on the ship's cranes.

A search light platform has been painted Navy Blue 5-N and will be installed on the ship's main mast.

20mm gun barrel storage tubes have been reproduced and will be placed on various areas on the ship. These will help bring the ship back to its 1945 appearance.

TOURING? - The Battleship Texas Foundation is working on new touring opportunities before the ship reopens.

REOPENING? - There is a lot to be done before the ship is ready for touring at its new home in Galveston, Texas. Reopening is projected to happen sometime in the later half of 2025.

MISSING GUNS? - The ship's anti-aircraft guns are currently undergoing restoration. The guns and gun directors will be replaced once their restoration is complete.

Come on Texas!

To donate to the preservation and operation of Battleship Texas, please visit: https://battleshiptexas.org/

Support Battleship Texas by making a purchase through the ship's store: https://store.battleshiptexas.org"

Posted on the Battleship Texas Foundation Facebook page: link

[mania-sama]

is it me or the fear talking (what a dumb question)

Intro III - NF

➼ information ❧ Genshin Impact ❧ Pairing: Kaeya & Himself ❧ Additional Character: Albedo ❧ Tags: buried alive, alternate character interpretation, open to interpretation, gaslighting, angst, sleepwalking, songfic, song lyrics as dialogue (cringe is dead), character study ❧ Summary: A shovel in his hand, Kaeya realizes he has to kill the person he fears the most. ❧ Word Count: 5,604 ❧ Cross-posted from Archive of Our Own ❧ Original post date: 30 April 2022

In his last memory, Kaeya had been drunk. There was no question about it; the hazy thoughts of his muddled mind, the slur in his words, and Diluc’s glare as he stumbled out of Angel’s Share. He had managed to drag himself to his office at the Headquarters, blissfully unaware and uncaring of any knights that saw his sorry state in the progress.

In the present, his vision was pristine and mind clear. The carpet underneath his feet was torn in multiple places and dark with years of built-up grime and neglection. His office floor, unlike all of the others in the Headquarters, didn’t have a carpet on it. It was marble, matching the hallways just outside of the door. When he’d first claimed the office for himself several years ago, the first thing he’d done was to remove the unnecessary fabric. With this information, he concluded that the place he was in wasn’t his office or even the Knights’ Headquarters. Despite that, the place was familiar in the most uncomfortable and worst of ways.

Kaeya moved forward, the dark hardwood underneath the layer of carpet squeaked from the pressure of his weight. The wood was eroded from fungi and hidden insects undiscovered through the years of its clear abandon. The hallway he slowly traversed through was dimly lit by flickering candle lights. Several of those were missing from their cages against the wall and were instead smeared against the ground. Candle wax mixed strangely with the unkempt carpet hairs.

The hallway he was walking along turned into a T, opening up to a hallway overlooking the living room of the estate. A large chandelier hung from the ceiling above the main room, swinging gently despite the absence of a breeze. There were only two candles lit on the fixture, and the rest were burnt down or completely missing. Kaeya headed to the left side of the staircase leading to the room below.

As he walked past a room, the door abruptly shook violently in response to a bang against it. A gut-wrenching cry emitted from inside of it, causing a wave of nausea to come up Kaeya’s throat. With a hand on his mouth, he forced his feet to keep going. It never got easier to see or hear that room, no matter how many days he spent trapped inside this estate. If he had chosen to go to the right-hand stairway, the room he would’ve had to walk by was almost worse than the one on the left.

Kaeya would’ve grabbed onto the handrail lining the hallway for stability from his sudden nausea, but he was sure it would fully collapse and crumble under any weight he put on it. Just like the floor, mites and fungi were eating it hollow.

Forcefully ignoring the sobs emitting from the bedroom and the cobwebs lining the baseboards against the ceiling and floor, Kaeya began his descent down the staircase. Each board of wood bent under his feet, and he was careful to not misstep. It was dark enough that it would’ve been relatively easy to fall if he wasn’t paying attention.

The living room was just as dark as the hallway. The wallpaper peeled off of the wall and fallen square panels from the ceiling were scattered across the floor, broken. They cracked underneath Kaeya’s boots. Speaking of which, his shoes were the same pair that matched his old knight uniform, the one he wore before becoming Cavalry Captain. Lifting his sleeved arm and rubbing a hand on his coat, Kaeya found that he was in said uniform.

It was never the same. Every time he found himself in this dark, abandoned estate, his outfit was different. Most of the time, Kaeya himself was changed in some aspects as well. Whether that be his physical age or the just length of his hair, he was never the exact same as he was in his previous visit to the mansion.

Besides the change of attire, Kaeya didn’t feel different in any way. He reached his bare hands up to touch his face, feeling the skin around his eye. In the waking world of reality, his right eye was always covered. In the abandoned and broken estate, he couldn’t remember a time when he even had an eyepatch. It was disturbing in its own right, serving as a reminder that there was no hiding. There was nothing to protect him outside of the doors that locked away his past.

Kaeya slowly picked his feet up again and walked to find a mirror on the other side of the living room. All of the visible furniture was covered by off-white dust sheets. The chairs and couches were scattered in an unorganized manner, though in the original estate, they had once formed a semicircle in front of the fireplace. A wooden table was split into two in the direct middle of the room, its dust sheet covered with dark splotches of dried blood.

He averted his eyes. The fireplace wasn’t lit, but it never was. One thing that had never changed in the estate was how cold it was, like it lacked life despite the person– people– that lived there. The permanent chill seeped straight through his clothes and poked at his bones like incessant needles. His Cryo Vision had allowed his body to become resilient to the cold, but he lacked that elemental power in the manor.

The mirror was just ahead, propped up against a pillar against the edge of the living room. Mirrors were scattered everywhere in the mansion, some broken and some not. It seemed that the estate wanted Kaeya to see himself, to perceive who he truly was. It was unsettling and distressing. The mirror he wanted was covered by another dust sheet. Glancing around the room as anxiety spiked his heart rate, he harshly tugged the cover completely off.

The glass was dirty and unkept with one large crack extending the entire mirror horizontally in a jagged line. Kaeya looked entirely the same as he did in the real world, save for the knight uniform he hadn’t worn in several years. There wasn’t a trace of intoxication on his person, but his emotional turmoil was easy enough to read. His body was stiff with tension and his chest rose up and down in an uneven pattern. The mansion always had a way of making him look so open and vulnerable.

His eyes were wide with something akin to dread. His now uncovered eye was exposed, revealing absolutely nothing special underneath. Ah, there was the thing that had changed. For some odd reason, the manor decided to make his Khaenri’ahn eye entirely normal. It was blue now, and its pupil was only vaguely star-shaped. It matched his left eye perfectly, the one that he let the real world see.

He wasn’t sure when it had happened, for there hadn’t been anyone near him just a second ago. There was a figure behind him that was meeting his gaze through the mirror. Kaeya tensed impossibly further, a chill running down his back and through his nervous system.

Kaeya couldn’t bear to look in the mirror anymore; he was frightened by his own terrified expression. Turning around wasn’t much easier, for the figure looked exactly like himself. Major differences set them apart, though, which made it a lot easier for Kaeya to distinguish himself from the other. The figure wore a uniform only for royalty: a suit, pristine white and untouched by the dirt and sawdust surrounding them. Gold epaulets dawned each shoulder, and a similarly-colored sash crossed the entire front of his chest.

A long, white cape flowed with the figure’s movement as it followed Kaeya back into the main part of the living room. The fur lining the top of the cape around its neck was a deep and dark ocean blue. Sharp, four-pointed stars littered the underside of the cape, and its boots echoed in the eerie silence as it stalked. Kaeya didn’t say anything to it. He didn’t want to, so he shouldn’t have to, but it was still following him. It was still behind him, watching and matching every footstep until Kaeya collapsed onto a barely-standing chair on the opposite side of the room.

It– no, he, he wouldn’t want to be called an it– tilted his head as Kaeya stared at him. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched as words written in black ink began to fill the mirror. It was already dripping down the glass. Kaeya’s attention was brought back when it– he– crossed his arms over his chest.

“Are you scared of me?” The figure asked. His eyes were a brown-ish gold, and their pupils were distinctly star-shaped, similar to the ones on the underside of his cape. Kaeya looked away, the sight making him feel sick to the stomach and so, so cold. The figure scoffed. “That’s embarrassing.”

Kaeya didn’t say anything. This time the words were simply caught in his throat. He couldn’t lie here. Nobody could, at least of what he was aware of. Everything that lived here only spat hurtful truths whether or not they wanted to. It was horrible, a constant and undying nightmare that breathed persistently. There wasn’t an escape, only temporary, so-called relief in the real world that only caused more words to be written on the tearing wallpaper.

“If it wasn’t for me, you would’ve never become Cavalry Captain,” the figure continued. Kaeya became extremely aware of the clothes resting on his skin. Toes rubbed uncomfortably together in his white boots. They were almost brown in the dim, flickering light, looking like they were used for years as mud shoes.

After not receiving a response, the figure sat on the floor in an unceremonious manner. For his appearance, it– he– didn’t act like the prince he was supposed to be. “I’ve been there for you,” he said while flicking out his cape. It splayed out against the ground and draped over the broken ceiling tiles and layered dust. “How come you were never there for me?”

He kicked his feet out, legs crossing over each other as he leaned back on his hands. The prince didn’t wait on a response. He wasn’t going to get one, anyway. “It’s a little twisted, but I miss when you and I would have nightmares. We saw each other more, then.”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Kaeya strangled out, voice coming out more horse than he expected. He still couldn’t look at the stranger– no, he was so familiar– in front of him. They looked too much alike, despite the eyes and attire. Their body shapes and skin tones matched perfectly, and their voices were the same despite the roughness of Kaeya’s.

“Well, that’s too bad!” laughed the prince without any humor. A barely-audible plea of silence escaped Kaeya’s lips, which he swiftly slapped with a bare hand. His head snapped around to find the figure on the floor, but he didn’t seem to notice nor care.

He began to push himself off the floor without any real urgency or rush. Why did he sit down in the first place? “Now, where were we? Ah, do you remember back in the days when you and I had it all mapped out in your bedroom?” Kaeya did remember. That was when he still inhabited that upstairs bedroom of the estate, both in reality and in this crumbled mansion. “Crying in there like a baby, ‘I wish Dad was here,’” the figure mocked mercilessly.

There was a kid still living in that room. He screamed and cried and banged on the door, yet Kaeya never let him out. Facing the child in there, and facing the words he wrote on the wall were something he preferred to keep locked away. Nights that Kaeya found himself trapped in the inside of that bedroom with that little kid that was identical to his own, younger self were the nights he read and heard those same words said by the prince. They were permanently etched to the walls, replaying over and over again in nightmares.

“You don’t really want to change me,” he said. Kaeya looked away again, this time to the archway connecting the living room to a large hallway. “I made everything; I made you who you are. Do you really want to get rid of your main personality?”

The dust sheet was itchy. He had to move, to get away from this figure talking in front of him. The chair creaked at the sudden loss of pressure. Kaeya didn’t know where to go. “It’s time to make plans, and you know I can help. I don’t want to make you nervous, but it isn’t like it used to be. You’ve got a lot of people watching.”

The living room lacked any life besides the two identical men in there. Yet, that wasn’t what the prince was referencing, was it? He was talking about the increase in hilichurl activity, the abyss order drawing nearer, and that cursed mechanism found in the Chasm. Kaeya had thought he escaped his roots, disregarding the prince that lived permanently in this mansion. Now, it was all crashing down to destroy him. A ceiling tile fell and splintered behind him.

“You don’t want me in your life,” the figure said with a wrinkle of his nose. He wasn’t happy with Kaeya. “That’s hard to digest. I told you I’ll leave when we die,” he raised his arms and extended them out into the air by his side, “We haven’t died yet!”

Black paint lined the prince’s lips and mouth. The ends extended far along his cheekbone, jagged and terrifying. When the prince grinned maliciously, the drawn smile made his white teeth appear a putrid yellow color. Perhaps it wasn’t his eyes that were the most terrifying to look at, but rather that permanently painted smile on his face. The days when Kaeya found himself with that same faux grin were some of the worst.

“Cavalry Captain is beautiful, but I’m wondering what’s coming next? Look at me when I’m talking to you— did you hear what I said?” Kaeya was looking for an escape, somewhere to go to run from the sound of his own voice mocking and penetrating his ears. He purposefully didn’t look the prince in the eyes.

The figure laughed. It was full of malice and anger. “Do you not like this prison I built you? Oh, you know what the funny thing is?” He grabbed onto Kaeya’s elbow, pressing his gloved fingers harshly against the nerves. A wave of pain shot up the Cavalry Captain’s arm. “You keep on acting like I’m a stranger, but we’ve been together since you were a kid!”

Memories of the nights where there was no-one but the two of them pounded on its designated door. He heard the screams and cries clearly again even though the room was on the second floor. That kid wanted to be let out, saved. Kaeya ripped his arm from the prince’s harsh grip, but he didn’t make any moves to the stairway. His legs we’re frozen, keeping him rooted in front of the rotting chair.

“I took us from a broken nation. I told you everything was okay. Now you’re trying to cut me out like I’ve never been a part of your life.” Oh, he was truly angry now, and Kaeya was utterly scared. He continued, “I am the heart of it, I made this whole place.”

Kaeya’s mind was muddled and confused as the words were spat in his face, but he was sure that the prince hadn’t been the one to create the estate. Kaeya had, though he couldn’t be sure at what exact time in his life. When he was six years old, probably, just a kid who wanted a haven. It hadn’t been a place he feared until he entered. The prince was right when he said that he made it a prison.

“Tell me, Kaeya. What’s the point in having a sword if you can’t swing?” He leaned forward and sneered in Kaeya’s face. “What’s the point in having blood with no veins? Love with no pain?”

He’s heard those words before. They mixed cruelly with the sweet, innocent, and soothing sentences the prince had sung to Kaeya after hard and confusing days. Bile curdled in his stomach. Kaeya had to leave, and without a destination in mind, his feet started to move. The prince followed, the sound of his cape fluttering violently behind him echoing with his voice.

“I’m saying that me without you doesn’t make any sense,” he called. Kaeya felt his collar close in around his neck as the prince yanked him back. Roughly, he was twirled to face the man that looked just like him. Those blue, star-shaped eyes were cross. “I know I’m intense and controlling, but you need to learn how to cope with it. That’s just the way that it is.” 

Gloved hands shoved Kaeya away, creating space between the two. “If you didn’t want me to live in this estate, you shouldn’t have let me move in. It’s comfortable here and I like it; I’ve got my own room and everything,” he grinned, “It doesn’t get better than this!”

An ever-present need to flee kept Kaeya’s heart pounding. He couldn’t go upstairs— that kid wanted to be let out and he absolutely  couldn’t open the door. A small glass dome that was connected to the mansion was just down the left hallway. It might be better to be closer to the outside world, to get a taste of what he wasn’t allowed to have. Silently praying to gods he hardly believed in that he wouldn’t be choked again, Kaeya started off in the right direction.

“Do you want to own your life? Then wake up and take your own advice,” the figure said while his heels clicked against the floor. He laughed in that mirthless way again. “You’re just mad because you know I’m right.” He paused. Then, “Ah, I’m flattered that you brought me up to Diluc, but you should’ve told him the truth.”

The last time Kaeya talked to Diluc about anything related to Khaenri’ah was when they were eighteen. He’d tried to explain that he wasn’t allied to that nation anymore, but it hadn’t mattered. No words could replace the bitter truth of Kaeya’s bloodline. The wall beside Kaeya suddenly groaned. Kaeya hadn’t told Diluc any lies that night, though, so the prince’s accusation was both confusing and horrifying.

“I held your hands on the coldest nights. You didn’t tell him about the times you and I used to control your body!” They arrived in the dome. As expected, glass was shattered in multiple places, but the general shape was mostly intact. Shards were crushed under two pairs of boots. There was no light streaming in from the outside, as it was perpetually cloudy and cold at some point of the night. Or was it day? There was no way to tell.

“I mean, are you out of your mind?” He asked, pulling Kaeya around by the arm to face him once they were in the middle of the room. Kaeya, for all intents, wanted to stare out at the flat landscape outside the estate and ignore that violent figure. Unfortunately, that wasn’t possible.

The prince— the Khaenri’ahn Prince Kaeya was supposed to be— grasped the Cavalry Captain’s jaw. His fingers dug harshly into Kaeya’s cheeks to the point where he could feel the intense pressure against his molar teeth. The figure forced the man’s head from side to side, up and down. A scowl crossed his face. “Then both of us will be. We’re going outside!”

He forcefully pushed Kaeya’s face back. He stumbled, and suddenly he wasn’t in that broken glass dome anymore. He was outside, yards behind the mansion. His white boots found solid ground to stabilize himself on, the short, yellow grass crunching in the process. The air was stagnant and colder than the inside of the mansion. It’d been a long time since he was let outside.

The prince had a shovel in his hand, already poking at the dirt. Kaeya’s hands curled into fists. “Is this what you wanted, both of us out in the open?” He demanded, voice less hoarse than it was before. “Why are you doing this? I know that you’re mad, but I’m not in the mood.”

Dirt was flicked up from the ground, starting a pile next to the beginnings of a hole. “We have a nation to save,” the figure snapped. “Stop acting like I’m not a part of this.”

“Where’s my shovel at?” Kaeya asked, the beginnings of an idea forming in his mind. It wasn’t possible to lie when inside of the mansion, but when he was outside, rules bent a little bit. He could, at the very least, act like he was still intent on saving Khaenri’ah. Like he still cared.

“It’s probably out here like it always is,” the prince spat. Sure enough, the metal tip of a second shovel glinted next to Kaeya’s feet. It hadn’t been there a second ago.

Picking it up, he felt the wooden shaft weight heavily in his grip. His bare hands tightened on it while his heart quickened its pace. They always dug a hole when the prince got upset enough, and those days were the few in which he actually got to go outside. Inevitably, Kaeya would be shoved and buried in the hole they created.

The prince stabbed his shovel into the ground. “I’m the reason why—“

“Shut up. I don’t want to hear another sentence,” Kaeya hissed. The outside always gave him more confidence, made him stronger against the omnipresent prince or whatever had taken him out of the mansion.

The prince laughed, the sound choked with his anger. “Hey, I’m Kaeya!” He waved a hand in the air dramatically, eyes wide to mimick the other’s constant panicked look. “Is it me or Khaenri’ah talking? Ha! What a dumb question! It’s smooth talk until the day we die, right? Isn’t that the motto?”

“I thought I told you to keep your mouth shut.” As long as he acted like he wasn’t going to betray the prince, Kaeya could be snarky. The outside let his tongue loosen, keeping him truthful but in the opposite way the mansion did. It was hard to play nice when the hole was getting bigger and his fate loomed drearily.

The pile of dirt grew larger as the figure shoveled more to the side. “I mean, so what? You know I never listen!”

Stab, shovel. Stab, shovel. “Let me guess: we’re going to dig a hole, have a chat, and then drop me in it. Bury me for what, three minutes?” His tone held more irritation than he intended. The prince narrowed his eyes.

“You don’t really think for a second that you’re putting me in this?” He accused, shoveling the dirt at a slower pace now. Kaeya had to play this cool; they were almost done. This was his only chance, and he couldn’t let it slip by.

Shrugging, Kaeya forced out his first lie of the night. He convinced himself that this wasn’t the intention originally, speaking in his past self rather than the present. “Of course not. Just a little deeper then you can bury me.” Huffing, he stopped poking at the ground after a few more seconds. “We can stop digging.”

He moved to stand near the prince who had dropped his shovel at the sentence. Kaeya had to make it look like he was ready to get shoved into the hole they made. It was a grave, just like all the other ones that littered the backyard around them.

A paint-outlined mouth contorted into a grin. For the first time that night, his voice contained a hint of humor to match his words. “You had me scared for a second; I almost thought we were digging my grave.”

Now.

Kaeya slammed the sharp edge of his shovel into the back of the Khaenri’ahn Prince’s head. A loud boom echoed in the empty backyard, the same sound that metal connecting with bone made. The figure collapsed forward and dropped directly into the grave. A shaky laugh escaped Kaeya’s lips as he ran a trembling hand through his hair.

“We did.” He crouched down, knowing that the body in the hole could still hear him despite his utterly limp and dead state. “You don’t like being afraid? It’s a dose of your own medicine. What, you don’t like how it tastes?” Standing back up, Kaeya began to shove the dirt back into the occupied grave. “Jean told me not to bury my issues, but if I have to be honest, I’m feeling great.”

The process was easy and methodical. Kaeya spoke while dirt piled on top of the prince’s body, successfully staining his lovely suit. “I should have done this a year ago; I don’t know why I waited. I tend to put everything off in my personal life, you hear what I’m saying?” He laughed humorlessly. “That was a joke. It’s hilarious, isn’t it? You’ll spend the rest of your life in my backyard or back of my mind depending on how you see it.”

He soaked up the last bit of freedom the outside provided him and smoothed out the last layer of dirt on top of the prince’s grave. Now that he was alone, he became fully aware of the eyes watching him from places he couldn’t see. Kaeya dully remembered why he built the mansion in the first place.

Dragging the shovel against the ground and leaving a trail of blood in his wake, Kaeya slowly ambled to the steps leading to his front door. It took a moment of consideration, but eventually he set the shovel against the side of the steps. Nothing from the outside belonged inside— that was a lesson he learned a long time ago.

He tried the handle, but it was locked. Right, they had never gone through a door to reach the backyard. Hesitantly, he reached into the breast pocket of his coat, pulling out a set of house keys. A surprised huff escaped his lips. He hadn’t been in possession of those ever since the prince started to live in the estate. The weight was unfamiliar and heavy in his hands. He unlocked the door with shaky wrists.

Kaeya stood by the window next to the front door and waited. Time was incomprehensible on the estate, so he couldn’t be sure how long he was waiting and watching. The stifling atmosphere inside the mansion contrasted the openness of the outside, and he could feel the way his face returned to its usual terrified expression. Words were caught in his throat from fear of his own voice. Despite that, though, it was safer to remain inside. He was sure of it.

Eventually, after what had to be a long time, a figure came walking around the front of the mansion. Its suit was covered in multiple layers of dirt, and the entire back and left side of its head was coated in thick blood. It stumbled up to the front door, knocking and begging to be let inside. Kaeya let out a single, short chuckle. The room it used to sleep in had already collapsed, the words inside of it dripping and filling the bedroom to the brink with black ink.

—

Kaeya’s head was hurting like he’d been hit by a very sharp boulder. He blinked blearily, raising a hand to rub absent-mindedly at his eyes. His arm hurt with the movement. Dropping it back down to his side, he found his arm connecting with solid ground. Eyes snapping open fully, he stared up at the slightly cloudy sky above him, the edges of his vision blocked by the walls of dirt on all four sides of him.

Thankfully, the hole didn’t seem that deep, though it was long and wide enough to fit his entire body comfortably. He reached out and gripped the top of the walls on his left and right side, groaning with the effort it took to pull himself into a sitting position. The action caused a wave of pain to spread through his head. He squinted in order to avoid looking at the sun rising just ahead of him.

“Ah, good morning,” a voice said to his right. Kaeya twisted his head around to see who it was, finding himself staring at an extended hand. Albedo was looking at him expectantly, eyebrows raised. The Chief Alchemist was sitting on the ground with his legs crossed and a notebook sitting on his lap.

Hesitantly, Kaeya grabbed his hand and was helped out of the hole. The Cavalry Captain brushed the dirt off of his clothes, gaze flitting back and forth between Albedo and the clearly man-made grave. “I’m assuming you have a few questions,” Albedo said nonchalantly as he picked himself up to stand beside Kaeya, who was nodding in agreement. “I returned to the Knights Headquarters yesterday in order to sleep and give a full report today. I saw you leaving as I was entering, and since I consider you my friend I wanted to greet you. You ignored me completely and kept walking with a dazed look in your eye.”

Although Albedo didn’t seem at all troubled by this, Kaeya couldn’t help but to feel a little guilty. “I apologize. I don’t seem to have any recollection of this,” he said. That was true– the last thing he remembered before appearing in his broken estate was collapsing in his office. Any memories of the real world between then and the moment he woke up were completely absent.

“You were in a state somnambulism– sleepwalking. I don’t blame you,” he replied, easily deflecting the apology. “I decided to follow you, and along the way to the Dawn Winery, you picked up a shovel. When you got here, you dug this hole and promptly collapsed in it when you finished.”

Kaeya wasn’t sure how to process that information. He’d had a few accounts of sleepwalking before, all times coming from particularly long periods of time he spent at his mind’s estate. “And you didn’t try to stop me?” He accused, realizing that his arms were sore from the time he spent digging his own grave.

Albedo shrugged and began flipping through his sketchbook. “Stopping you would mean halting the observation. It’s not often I get to see somnambulism so close. You also had a sharp shovel in your hands,” he said while lifting his book to show a page to Kaeya. “I didn’t want to get hit.”

The page contained a detailed drawing of Kaeya digging the grave, his position being in the middle of flicking dirt to a side pile. The only thing it lacked was color, but with the vividness and accuracy of the drawing, it didn’t really need it. Once he was done examining the illustration, his eyes wandered elsewhere. True to the alchemist’s words, the grave he dug was to the left of the Dawn Winery building and in-between two sections of rows of grape halos.

“What was the dream about? You were mumbling incomprehensibly while digging,” Albedo suddenly asked after a contemplative silence fell between the two. Or rather, it was contemplative for Kaeya, who was trying to come up with a believable excuse to tell Diluc concerning the large hole he’d dug.

Kaeya pressed his lips together. He’d thrown the house keys into the fireplace that didn’t burn, hiding it under the thick logs to keep it there. That door wasn’t going to open again under his watch. For that reason, he answered with, “When something is buried, it’s best to leave it underground.” In truth, he didn’t want to talk about the prince, either. He was afraid that it would find its way back inside again if he recognized its existence out loud.

Albedo narrowed his eyes, piercing right through the Cavalry Captain’s carefully crafted mask. Kaeya had always admired the alchemist for his excellent observation skills, but it was somewhat disturbing when he was able to detect and pull apart every single lie and flowery sentence Kaeya strung together. Despite his obvious understanding of a hidden secret, Albedo let the topic drop, much to Kaeya’s relief. He was afraid that Albedo was going to tear down his front door and see his broken mansion.

“I can fix the hole with Geo. Master Diluc didn’t come to the Winery last night nor this morning, and nobody else passed by either,” he stated simply, setting his sketchbook gently on the ground. “Head into the city and wash up. I’ll be there soon.”

Kaeya nodded. With a quick farewell, he started up the hill to walk back to Mondstadt. He left something behind in that grave, a piece of himself that deserved to rest. His loyalty to Khaenri’ah was officially severed, outcast from his estate and mind alike. It couldn’t torture him anymore.

His hands reached up to massage his mouth and cheeks, trying to rub more life into his features after his exhausting night. Bringing his limbs back down, his uncovered eye caught sight of a discoloration that wasn’t there before. He gave his hands his full attention, noticing that the exposed fingers protruding from his fingerless gloves had remnants of black paint on them. Kaeya scratched his lips again, finding that his fingernails pulled off another layer of paint.

[nonhumanresources]

Snowfall

Short Undertale Yellow fic about trying to move on. Spoilers for the pacifist ending! This isn't everything I want to write about Yellow for sure, I've got at least one more idea I've been toying with, but I was listening to the soundtrack and feeling stuff. It's not much but I've been thinking about the characters a lot so it's nice to get something down on the page.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Snow fluttered downwards, flakes tumbling over themselves in their haste to join the building drifts. It sank through the air, some snowflakes lagging behind others, apprehensive. The flurries twisted around and around, eventually scattering across the treetops and paths in even layers, like sand. Or ash. Or dust. 

Martlet let the snow collect on and around her. She’d have to shovel later, tossing the buildup off her balcony to keep the fragile wooden beams from snapping. Those had been built… what was it, three years ago now? Itching for space, she’d torn down a wall and repurposed it into an exterior patio with uneven handrails and mismatched floorboards, held up by a tree and too few poles. Nowadays, she could see the flaws in the construction; too-shallow angles, half-pounded nails, stress points with naught but a single board hastily screwed into position keeping the whole thing up. Martlet prefered to pay attention to the other details, though. From where she was sitting, she could see down, just between the handrails on one of the poles, there was a nick in the wood. That was where she had taken a chunk out of it with her carving knife when she dropped a mallet on her talons. Further down, there was a section with evenly spaced nails, save for one that was bent in half. That was Chujin’s work. He’d been so excited when his wife had shown up that he’d missed the last nail in his haste to wave hello. 

She sighed, closing her eyes, feeling the snow accumulate. 

Somewhere not far off, Marlet heard wood scraping against wood. Front door, she thought immediately, knowing that particular sound by heart. She ignored it; the balcony was on the front of the house, so whoever it was would have seen her up here anyway. Sure enough, the door behind her opened moments later. There was the sound of clawsteps and the swish of fine cloth. 

“You’re not at your post.” Ceroba’s clipped tone was short, but that didn’t indicate annoyance. She was just like that. Martlet heard more rustling cloth, and the creaking wood told her that Ceroba had sat down beside her, nearly silent. She often moved like that these days. 

Martlet wanted to sit in silence for a while. She’d been doing that already, after all, besides briefly greeting the balcony when she’d sat down. Her beak had other plans, though. 

“You ever wonder about where it all comes from?” she asked. She liked to imagine her voice swirling out like the snow, laying across those who could hear in a soft blanket, conveying its meaning through its delicate frigidity. It didn’t; it was just about as loud as she normally spoke. It was so hard to capture the way she saw it all in her head, even with her own voice. 

“The shiverstones in the cavern roof,” Ceroba responded without hesitation. Martlet imagined her staring up through layers of snow, ears tilted back, a snowflake or two settling on her nose and melting in her breath. It was very picturesque. “Water-laden air is sent up by the lava in Hotland, where it freezes and falls in Snowdin. Apparently part of what keeps the Dunes so dry is the wind that movement creates. Chujin would talk about it when we visited, sometimes.” 

Martlet stayed still. She imagined Ceroba frowning at her. (She was right about that one.) 

“This is a riddle again.” 

“It’s not a riddle,” Martlet pointed out. 

“Fine,” Ceroba sniffed. “Further back then. The humidity required for this kind of snow comes from Waterfall. The water from rivers and streams collects into the lake and the fens, where it’s picked up by the wind and carried through here.”

“Yeah,” Martlet nodded. 

“But, that’s still a definite answer. You don’t wonder about facts.” She could see exactly how her friend’s ear twitched when she used that tone—some mix of what might be frustration, but might be humor, too. Or maybe something else entirely. Ceroba tended to keep an unreadable demeanor when she could. “So, keep going. The Waterfall cavern is largely tougher minerals, with slick, unforgiving walls, except for the limestone veins that have been worn away by the water flow. The main river emerges underground, but at least as much seeps down from—”

“The Surface,” Martlet whispered. Ceroba was silent. 

By now, Martlet’s head feathers felt warm. They’d been cold at first, then frigid as snow melted into them, but once a thick enough layer had formed, it had warmed right back up. The snow made for a good insulator. Or maybe she’d just gotten used to it. 

“You’re thinking about that day.” 

Martlet sighed. She was. She had been, every single day since. It was months later, now, and she still couldn’t believe that it had only lasted… what, nine hours? Ten? According to Dalv, Clover had only been in the Underground for about an hour and a half before entering Snowdin, and according to some eyewitness reports she’d been so wrapped up in puzzle maintenance that she’d missed them by a hair on multiple separate occasions. Had she turned around, she’d have met Clover and had an extra thirty minutes with that knowledge. 

She didn’t expect that to hurt so bad. 

When she finally opened her eyes, Ceroba was staring at her, gaze sharp and discerning as it always was. How was it that the fox had more of an eagle eye than the bird? There was no snow on Ceroba’s clothes, and it had melted in a small aura around her kimono. Seeing Martlet’s face, she sighed and turned, staring out over the treetops. Her paws curled along the edge of the balcony, tapping on the underside of the wood.

“Yeah. Me too.” With her deeper voice, when she spoke softly, it came out in a growl. Chujin had once confessed that he’d convinced Ceroba he’d suffered an ear injury at the Steamworks and gotten her to whisper for a whole week just to hear it. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever not been thinking about it,” Martlet sighed. 

“None of us have, Martlet,” Ceroba admitted. “It’s kind of hard to forget.” 

“I noticed,” Martlet grumbled. She hunched forwards, wings on her knees, and stared down into her yard. “So many monsters are so happy. Almost every time a human has shown up, it’s been a disaster, either for us or for them. A slaughter or a rampage. But when it’s neither, I can’t even…” she took in a shaky breath. “I’ve been thinking about the water a lot. Clover, they didn’t even hesitate when I said that we had to ride on Ava. Heck, I tipped the boat more than they did.” 

“You aren’t known for your grace, dear,” Ceroba interjected. 

Martlet gave her a sardonic stare. “Thanks. The point is, I seriously doubt it was their first time on a boat, you know? No one has that much confidence the first time. Do you think…” 

“They were some sort of sailor, up there?” Ceroba guessed. Martlet just shrugged and hunched forwards further. 

“I don’t know. I mean, it’s a stupid thought, I guess. I’ve just been… yeah. Wondering. That’s all.” Martlet slipped a nail from her pocket, fiddling with it and brushing it through the feathers on the tips of her wings. 

Ceroba mulled over it while Martlet sulked, taking her time to answer. This was always how it went; Martlet would run through a series of tangents, and her friend would come up with some sort of swift response that helped her narrow down her thoughts. At least, that was how it had been back before they’d stopped talking.

This time, Ceroba didn’t offer up any wisdom. She only sat and stared out at the trees. “I can see why you like it up here.” 

Martlet sighed. “Yeah.” 

The snow continued to fall. It was morbid, in a way. Falling was a symbol of death in the Underground. Falling down was the start of it. There was a while afterwards, for most monsters, but eventually, they were nothing more than dust. Unlike the snow, though, their dust rose upwards, towards the myths of avenging angels and the dark cavern and, maybe, someday, through layer upon layer of mica and shale and marble and rich ore, to the sun and the Surface. That was how you knew it was snow, not dust. It settled. 

Even the first human had fallen down. Every time, one after another, all six had fallen, never referred to by another term, sharing the literary fate of monsters themselves. It was true, every time, too. They fell. Killed, vanished, or… allowed to fade. 

Clover hadn’t turned to dust. Martlet knew that all too well. The cold pierced her feathers, and she shuddered. 

“How do you stand it?” she choked out, tears threatening to spill. “Chujin. Kanako, your family, they’re gone, yet here I am acting like this after a kid who showed up that day is gone. I… I barely even knew them. I abandoned them in the Dunes! And here I am, months later, and I, I haven’t even written in my, my journal, there’s feathers all over, I can’t stop… stop thinking about them, what I wanted to say, so much—”

Crack. Martlet shrieked, wings flapping. Ceroba hadn’t moved, but she’d tightened her grip so heavily on the edge of the floorboards that they’d snapped in her paw. She slowly unlatched her paw, brushing the splinters from her fur and placing it back down next to the ruined board. 

“It’s… hard,” she grunted.

“Er. Sorry,” Martlet said sheepishly. 

Cerboa chuffed, acknowledging the apology. “It helps to have friends.” 

“I mean, I do have those…” 

“Yeah, I know,” Ceroba responded. She took a moment to respond. “Look, Clover’s gone. We can’t change that. I spent a very long time trying to get Kanako back, and I nearly killed the kid over it.”

Martlet frowned. “If this is supposed to be helping—”

Ceroba interrupted her again. “I get it. I’m not the most consoling, okay? Only Kanako could get that side of me out.” She tapped her claws on the wood again, tracing a semicircle around the splintered board. “Clover gave us a gift, Martlet. The gift. Everything. I really didn’t get it for a while. Honestly, it made me furious, knowing that they took away my chance only to throw it right back in my face. I couldn’t even begin to realize what made a kid their age so obnoxiously noble.”

Martlet nodded. She’d seen how kind Clover was firsthand.

“It was Kanako that helped me figure it out. She…” Ceroba swallowed. “Kanako, she had the exact same look on her face when she asked me to let her help that Clover did that day. A deep-seated need to do what was right.” 

“But that’s what I can’t get over!” Martlet burst out, trying to find her words. “I—we let a child give up their soul, Ceroba. I don’t care about the stupid barrier or Asgore or the Royal Guard or anything, because what does it matter when all that we accomplished was convincing a kid that the only way to help is to die for the cause?!” 

She was standing. When had she stood up? Snow slipped from her head and smacked her beak, falling to the ground and filling some of the holes left by her talons. Tears followed the same route and splashed in the snow. Martlet started to pace, Ceroba remaining motionless. She tapped the nail against her thigh with agitation. 

“Maybe it’s not… it’s not worth it. We live okay, down here. Maybe if it means letting children die, I don’t want to destroy the barrier.” She knew it was a bad idea to speak about that kind of thing; monsters avoided you with that kind of talk, and in a place like the Underground, isolation was a torture all on its own. Ceroba, though, just nodded. 

“Perhaps it isn’t. That does not bring back my family, though. So perhaps instead we should make it worth it,” she stated, even voice cutting through Martlet’s flurries like a hot knife in the snow. 

“How? How are we supposed to change anything?” she demanded, stepping up to the handrail and gripping it with her wings. It bowed under her weight. “I couldn’t even stop Clover.” 

“You asked how I stand it,” Ceroba recounted. “I stand it because if I don’t, that means inaction. And inaction means stagnation. I let myself live in an Underground that allows children to sacrifice themselves for strangers. I don’t intend on letting that Underground claim any more. Perhaps that doesn’t help you, but that’s why I continue on.” She stood up, and despite being several inches shorter than Martlet, she managed to carry so much more weight to her. It was like she’d gone off and lived three times as much as Martlet had when they’d parted ways. It was unnerving, at times. She folded her arms, leaning on the handrail as well, and a small piece of wood splintered off and fell to the snow-covered yard below. 

“Yeah.” Martlet took in a deep breath, letting go and wiping her face with both wings. “Yeah,” she sniffed again. “I think I get it.” 

“Good. And Feathers… keep wondering. Maybe we’ll get some answers someday.” Ceroba squeezed her upper wing, her palms hot. The nickname warmed her heart

Martlet nodded. “Thanks.” 

“You’re welcome. Now, about the actual reason I came here—”

“Ohmygosh, sorry!” Martlet startled. “I didn’t even ask!” 

Ceroba waved dismissively. “Doesn’t matter. Starlo and the others have gotten it into their heads that they need some sort of mechanical horse in the Salon. I told them that it was dumb but they wouldn’t stop pestering me until I offered to go pick up an expert.” 

“An expert? Where are you—oh! Oh, me!” Martlet grinned. “Mechanical horse. Yeah, I think I can do that! Let’s see, I’ll need my saw, nails, pulleys…” she trailed off, counting on her feathers, then switching to her talons as she took off, sending snowflakes soaring upwards into the cool air. So enticing was the project that she didn’t even think to say goodbye, already doing mental calculations.

Ceroba watched her circle down to her toolshed and start pulling out all manner of DIY paraphernalia. A distraction would be good for the bird. It would be good for everyone, honestly. She turned back to the stairs, leaving the view behind, and went to go help pile tools into a wagon. 

[immortalmint]

Gloves - Autistic Hunter Week

Day 2: Touch/Sensory

My contribution to Autistic Hunter Week of 2023 is an excerpt from a yet-to-be posted chapter of Shadow's Reach. Hunter recalls his gloveless time in the Human Realm, which reminds him of something he'd nearly forgotten.

I hope you enjoy a little autistic fine-touch indulgence.

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

Hunter had vivid recollections of what it was like to run his bare hand along the wooden handrail going up the basement stairs, the fingertips of his right extending to brush against the support pillars as he ascended the steps. Even sanded wood had texture.

And everyone else just takes it for granted.

The trees outside had left their own unique impressions upon his naked fingertips, as had the damp grass and patches of puffy white clover. So many subtle textures. Something long forgotten in Hunter’s memory had stirred at the touch.

Recollections of dimpled stone bricks cold against the palm of his hand, the textured weave of thick tapestries sliding between his fingers, and the fascinating shifting consistency of a broken necklace chain as he balled it up and slid the tiny metal links back and forth with his thumb. All of that nuanced tactile sensation went away with the gloves.

Commissioning the gloves had been a laborious process. His uncle spent what seemed like hours with Hunter, painstakingly selecting the perfect type and grade of leather. Uncle let him feel every swatch, tolerated the unusual way he’d folded the squares back and forth between his fingers, and silently permitted his childish impulse to rub the thick fabric against his cheeks in a rare display of patience from the Emperor.

And once the leather was selected, Uncle had commissioned three separate tailors to sew multiple styles of gloves, rotating through pairs until Hunter’s little hands were comfortable with the stitching, content to remain enclosed in the supple leather rather than compelled to roam garishly about the castle. Hunter vaguely recalled the Emperor commenting that restless hands ran in the family, to varying degrees, and that the gloves would help Hunter control himself. After all, ‘The Emperor’s nephew must be presentable at all times.’

His uncle’s consideration seemed a great kindness to the little boy Hunter had been. As paradoxical as it was, it seemed a kindness still. The soothing touch of soft leather had provided invaluable comfort when Hunter was obligated to stand at attention for hours, or when he was silently agonizing over his next training match, forbidden to show any fear in his movements. Sometimes the gloves and the subtle motions of his fingers against the fabric were the only thing stopping him from breaking down into tears at the sight and smell of his own blood. Hunter knew the consequences of ‘unbecoming’ behavior, and the gloves served as a tool to avoid it.

Though Hunter could never hate the gloves, he understood that the exactingly tailored comfort had denied him so much in connecting with the world around him. Including experiencing the most basic interactions of friendship, unobstructed. Hunter had chosen to free himself of that restriction, setting out to discover his own place in the world amongst his community of friends.

And what a discovery it was…

He’d felt the firm grip of Willow’s lightly calloused hand as she’d pulled Hunter along to see an ‘amazing!’ snapping plant she’d found in the woods. As if anything could be more amazing than her hand in mine. He’d never forget the enthusiastic high-five from Gus, and how different the slap had sounded without his glove muffling the noise. What a strange pleasure it had been to touch his friends’ hands after years of internalized self-denial.

[magnoliabutters]

• AS THE WORLD BURNS •

pairing: kas!vamp eddie munson x (she/her) reader

summary: the consequences of love are not always easy...

warnings: 18+ content, mdni, adult language; canon divergence, season 4 spoilers, violence (vecna level), gore (blood), choking, angst/hate, near death scenarios, toxic/anti-hero relationship, y/n count: 1, etc.

word count: ~9.2k

reblogs, comments, & thoughts are so so shmo appreciated

• stories of eddie munson series • season two • previous part •

note: herro! it feels so good to post again! lots to unpack in this part and its quite long! i apologize if its a bit confusing with referring to some memories. as always, feel free to share your thoughts or ask any questions you may have! i did want to share that my characterization of vecna is probably on another level and die hard v-daddy fans may not enjoy this version - fair warning. nonetheless, i hope you enjoy!

Screams. Screams gargle out of your throat before you even notice. Your heart beats heavily within your chest. The pain shoots up your thigh and into your stomach, as well as down your entire right leg. Your hands push against his head fiercely. You are desperate to rip his teeth off your thigh. You feel his mouth latch harder onto your skin, causing a screech to escape your lips. The blood slowly trickles down your leg, an uncomfortable and nerve-wracking feeling. You scream, “Kas,” as you struggle against him. 

Your head shoots up, looking for something to help you - anything. You reach up to grab a baluster off the staircase. You pull as hard as you can in hopes of ripping it off the handrail. With eyes desperately searching for a weapon, your gaze falls upon Vecna. A sickening smile before you. His eyes completely fixated on Kas and his heavy bite against your thigh. Your stomach drops as you stare into the burned pile of flesh before you. He is enjoying this. It disgusts you. Anger slowly fills your body as you struggle against holding the wood above you. 

With a yell, you release all your undeniable anger. Your body tensing. Your muscles firm. You rip the baluster out from the stairs and drop it heavily against the back of Kas’ head. He shuffles back on his knees. A hand quickly pressing against the mark you made on his cranium. The blunt weapon falls from your hands as he releases his grasp on your thighs.

His eyes slowly raise to you. Those brown chocolate eyes now indiscernible. Red replaces his honey - his sweetness, his innocence. Another stab in the chest, reminding you that Eddie is no longer. You hope he found peace, and that you will see him soon. 

“You bitch,” Kas hisses out. “Fuck you,” you mutter with heavy annunciation on the f. Fueled with anger and pointing towards Vecna, you add, “Funny you’re calling me the bitch when you’re so clearly his. You’re a fucking puppet and a fucking disgrace to Eddie.” He stands up, a finger to your face, as his nostrils flare. 

His quick movements scare you as you wince in his presence. He steps forward in your space. You try to hold your ground, but you step back defensively. “Watch your mouth,” he demands. “Why? Aren’t you about to kill me? I’m going to do whatever the hell I want to do with my last moments,” you scream back. The anger now rings true throughout your body as you take a step forward.

Kas steps back, sucking his tongue to his teeth as a slow smirk appears on his right side. “You have no control here,” he says calmly. Your eyes squint with rage. “You don’t get to decide whether or not you speak before you die. I could just as easily bite off your tongue or rip away a chunk of your cheek,” he lists off as he runs a finger down your cheek bone. You pull away sharply, only making him smile more. “I’d like to see you try to speak then.” You breathe out heavily through your nostrils as you struggle to keep your body from shaking. You refuse to let him see the fear he causes within you. 

“Oh, and one more thing, darlin’,” he states. His index finger and thumb squeezing your chin as he pulls your attention back on him. You struggle to pull away, pain radiating across your jaw, but he holds you right where he wants you. “Eddie was the fucking disgrace. Everything he did and everyone he loved led to him being left to die on that floor,” he continues with a laugh. He takes another step forward, only a mere inch or two away from your face. “What disgrace? You couldn’t even save him. Where were you, huh?” he taunts. “Where were you when he was dying on that slab of concrete? Where were you when he was calling out for you, desperate to have you sit by his side as he left this world? Where were you when he was screaming your name-”

You slap him, hard, before you even knew it. The burning on your palm fuels the hate you feel so deeply within your heart. Kas is stunned before you. His hand retreating as it applies pressure against his face. Shock courses through your mind that he was seemingly bothered. You can barely see out of the tears piling within your eyes, but a part of you worries if you went too far. That very same part replays the unforgivable words spoken, and you are reminded of your hate.

“You disgusting bastard,” you mutter. “Why does it bother you SO much when I talk about him? Is it the constant reminder that, even though he’s gone, he is and always will be a better man than you? Is it because you know the love we had and how you’ll never have it?” A smirk suddenly falls upon your face. Your own eyes turning red, if they could. “Or is it because you know how much better he is at fucking me? That I faked it-“ 

Kas’ hand immediately rushes to your throat. You gasp, letting out your final breath. The pain is excruciating, but completely worth it. You give him a deep smile as you watch the anger flow into his eyes. “Do you ever stop talking?” he spits out through gritted teeth. “Fuck you, Munson,” you grumble out, twisting the knife in his side. He squeezes harder in retaliation and you immediately feel faint. You choke, heavily. Fear in your eyes as you feel the blood halting at your neck, disconnecting from your brain. 

You are going to die, but you already knew that. You haven’t said everything you needed to say. One last love note to beautiful Eddie before you see him again. 

And almost like a switch, Kas’ eyes widen at your reddened and horrified face. He pulls back his hand violently. You immediately collapse to your knees, choking out heaving breaths as your finger nails dig into the hardwood floor. 

Kas steps back, a traumatized look to his face. Never once has he felt regret. Never once has he experienced the fear that spreads like wildfire in his victims’ eyes. And he did this to YOU. The one person in this world that he doesn’t hate with every fiber of his being. Your words stung, hurt like a mother fucker, but he knew they were just words. He loves you, but you make him so angry. And he feels everything so deeply now - now that he knows. He regrets it. He regrets hurting you like that, despite having every intention to kill you at that very moment. 

“Kas, what did I say about playing with your food?” Vecna asks amusingly. His voice careless, as though he has better things to do. It pulls Kas out of his thoughts, which was his intention. You shoot your head towards him, giving him the deadliest stare you could muster. “I am not food, you fucked up burnt pile of shit,” you scream. You are tired of him, tired of him enjoying your death. There is no way in hell you would be letting anyone minimize your existence, certainly not this skinless fuck. 

Vecna’s eyes fall on you sharply. The muscles of his brow pulling together as his haunting stare consumes you. You gasp in response as your heart races. His hand slowly raises. With that, Kas’ face turns pale. He immediately turns to you, trying to push you out of the way, but it was too late. An invisible force floats you in the air. Your breath halts as you attempt to tremble, but you can’t even do that. Your arms are spread from your torso as your heels click together. Your eyes peer down at that horrible face, seeing nothing but absolute ruthlessness.

Kas watches a tear fall down your cheek as you struggle to grasp an understanding of what was occurring. His heart sinks as he watches you raise. He knows what happens after this. He usually enjoys the brutality, mentally taking notes, but as he watches you there, bright flashes wrack his head. 

He pins his chin to his shoulder as he receives painful glints of a blonde girl. He is brought back to the living room that will never be the same again. She floats above, just as you are now. He feels the fear, the terror envelope his body. An involuntary hand hits his chest. Screams, he is screaming. 

The girl he has known since the fourth grade is dying right above him, and he cannot do anything about it. She is the nicest girl, always has been. Anger, resentment, the need to have justice fills his soul. She did not deserve this. She was innocent, absolutely innocent. 

Like you… you didn’t deserve this. 

It did not matter how much you hurt him. How much you broke his heart. How much he despises your existence. How much regret he holds from saving your life that first night. You were innocent. He should have never brought you here. He should have left you alone. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

Kas stands beside Vecna with eyes of horror. His widening gaze peering up at your body as he attempts to process the sight before him. You are conscious. Why is Vecna leaving you conscious? His eyelashes fluttering as tears well in them. What the fuck can he do? You pissed Vecna off, the god of this shithole. He is scared, horrified even. In the face of death, he suddenly realizes he can’t lose you. He won't lose you. 

But he is frozen, frozen with absolute fear. Upon seeing that memory, on top of the anger, resentment, and justice, he feels fear. Vecna destroyed such a precious life so viciously. What could he do with Kas’ meaningless life? He brought him back into the world. He could surely take him out of it. 

Vecna slowly walks up to you. His clawed hand almost encompassing your chest. His head tilts to the side as he watches your terrified eyes. “You are mine, little girl,” he whispers. You tremble as you struggle to bring your eyes to the deadened form below you. Your chin held up by the invisible force. Do you regret what you said? Hell no. This pile of uncured meat is the reason your entire life went upside down. 

“Fuck you,” you muster. 

Suddenly, you feel like your bones were lit on fire. An unbearable wound against your shin and knee. The pain is overwhelming. Enough that your body is so overloaded that you didn’t even notice you were screaming again. Screaming at the top of your lungs as you still struggle against a force holding you against nothing. 

Nerve endings wrack your skull. Your body falls in and out of consciousness. You try hard to let yourself fall out of it, but HE keeps you in. You can feel him deep in your mind. His fingers wriggling within. Any control you had was surely gone. A sickening feeling you wouldn’t wish upon anyone. You truly were his, whether you wanted to be or not. You seek repulsion against the feeling of him in your veins. 

Kas watches you in absolute terror. A memory come to life once again. He can see your snapped leg out of his peripherals but he desperately keeps his widening eyes on your face. He shakes. He shakes as he sees your face pale. His lips tremble. He reminds himself that he did this to you. It may not be his hands, but he put you in this situation and now he is forced to watch your execution.

“Which one next?” Vecna asks lightheartedly. He slightly turns his head towards Kas. His eyes still glued to you, but he manages to pull away. Kas notes the increased excitement in Vecna’s eyes. He despises it, but can’t look away. If he does, then he would have to look at you. However, he can’t escape your crying, your pleading, your begging ringing in his ears. The sound somehow converts into daggers at his side. It causes a worse wound than his death AND rebirth. 

“Please!” you scream with a voice ripped right from your chest. Kas bites his lip as he stares at the floor. The damage to his system abundant in his face. “Just,” the word falls out of his mouth before he could stop it. Vecna turns faster than the word is spoken. “Just what?” he says slowly. He faces him now, full on. Kas could see you starting to fall unconscious from your pain in his sidelines. He is beyond thankful. 

Kas takes a deep breath before drawing his glance back towards Vecna. “You need to stop,” he says. He decides that honesty, something that does not come naturally for him, is his best path ahead. “Something inside me cares for her and I-I can’t have her die like this.” His eyes fall to the ground as he inadvertently becomes vulnerable. He relinquishes his power as he slightly bows before his alpha, his “savior.”

Vecna’s human eyes fall into the depths of hell as disappointment claws across his face. “She left you for dead,” he spits out with a waver to his voice. With a quick shake to his head, he reaches his arm out, undoubtedly to break another one of your limbs. Kas catches his wrist, stopping him in his tracks. He quickly looks at your resting body, ensuring he did not do anything within that fraction of a second. “She is the only thing that’s made me feel alive since you brought me back,” he musters. “You will not take her from me.” 

A deep, grumbled scoff falls from Vecna’s scorched lips. He pulls harshly from Kas’ grasp, as though his touch was poisonous. Kas awkwardly places his hand back at his side, still ready for the offensive, but suddenly extremely careful with where his hands were. “You are telling me you haven’t had any fun since I brought you back?” he clarifies with a laugh. “I saw you smiling while a man’s blood fell from your lip. Your laughter now haunts the New World, as does mine.”

A wince squeezes his face as Kas shakes his head. “Killing is different from living,” he whispers. “You don’t get to decide that,” the deep and overpowering voice emerges. Vecna hasn’t used this voice since they first met. He hasn’t heard him like this since Kas last asked a question or attempted to have any semblance of autonomy. “The only way you can live is if you kill her,” he continues. “Kill her for me.” 

Vecna closes the space between them, leaving Kas to shudder at his increasing voice volume. “Kill her, for me,” he says as he steps away from your unconscious body, still floating above the ground and destined for death.

A haze of a memory as you slowly open your eyelids to watch the two below. Just a few moments and you will cease to be. “I’m crazy about you, Eddie,” you whisper.

And then everything went dark. 

Your cheek rests against a warm and soft surface. It is comforting, familiar. Squelches are heard from, what you assume to be, mudded ground beneath you. Normally, you would be overly curious as to where you were, where your body was headed, who you were with - but not today. You are beyond exhausted, beyond lethargic. Your mind shattered in a million pieces, accompanied by a wretched headache.

A cheek bounces off the warmth as your body sways. The taste of metal fills your mouth. You smack your lips, attempting to get the taste off your tongue. Immediately, a giggle fills the small area between where your head and hand rest against the firm skin. This peaks your interest as you slowly open your eyes, peering your chin up naturally. 

You see the beloved curled locks you long for gracefully brushing against your forehead. A strong jaw line as it clenches, painfully holding back any more laughter. A quick movement of the Adam's apple as he swallows. You curl deeper into the warmness. Nuzzling deeper into his skin as a little grumble leaves your lips. Why would you ever pull away? 

“God, you’re so cute,” you hear Kas’ voice echo within the space. Your mind immediately panics, wriggling your limbs about until he drops you flat onto the ground. The pain resonates through your right hip, but you quickly push the thought away and prepare yourself for his attack. You spin upon your knees and grab hold of a nearby rock, throwing it at him. Naturally, he laughs as he dodges your attempt easily. “I like you better when you’re asleep,” he mutters with a thick upper lip. 

Your eyes rapidly scan the area around you. You find yourself in the woods, but recognize that Vecna’s demonic presence has not impacted the beauty of the nature around you. Were you out of Hawkins? You turn around and note a large plain of tall winded grass and a grand scene of bright light blue across the sky. Freedom. “We’re almost out,” he announces with a deep and confusing sigh. We? you question in your mind. Last you knew, he was about to kill you and now there is a “we?” 

“How did we get here?” you ask, returning your determined eyes upon him. Your body remains defensive, ready to strike if deemed necessary. Kas looks to his feet, sucking his bottom lip into his mouth. The top of his shoe hits against the sole of his other. His hands resting at his back, exposing his bare chest. He stands awkwardly, uncomfortably … vulnerable in front of you. Your breathing intensifies as your eyes meet his. “Last I remember, you were about to kill me,” you say quietly. Your hand slowly crawling towards the next nearby rock. 

His eyes widen before you as he takes a step forward. Your body involuntarily shudders at his approach. Your grip tightening against the rock, almost painfully. “I was never going to kill you,” he replies softly. His body language retreating, as he leans heavily against the trunk of a tree. “Bullshit,” you throw out as your teeth grind. Anger reverberates throughout your body as you struggle to keep yourself calm. 

Kas pushes off the tree with closed, tightened fists. “I was never going to kill you,” he enunciates. “As much as I wanted to,” he whispers under his breath. Your breathing heavies as you watch him begin to pace. “Am I supposed to thank you?” you spit out, terrified to stand from your kneel. “I wouldn’t mind a thank you,” he says sarcastically. “But I also wouldn’t mind you believing me.” You immediately laugh, following his words closely. “Believe you? You must be joking,” you huff with a lowly chuckle. “You left me to die,” you say sternly. The rage within your chest builds your courage as you stand before him. 

“Left you to die? God, how dramatic are you?” he mumbles, throwing his hand up in the air. You step forward, your hands clenching. You forget the rock piercing your palm. “You left me, crying - devastated,” you yell, tears welling in your eyes. “Are you serious, y/n?” he says sternly, entering your space. 

His rage boiling over, equal to your own. The way he says your name is unfamiliar, uncomfortable. “You thought I was him!” he yells. His face is so close to your own that you could note the small hints of pain within his eyes. “You said you didn’t know him,” he growls, his upper lip lifting on one side. 

“I said, I didn’t know who you were,” you yell. Your frustration is as clear as a bell. You push against his ribs, giving yourself a bit more breathing room. Kas’ devilish smirk, the one you swear is plastered to his face, disappears. His body halts after taking a step or two to gain his balance. A cold rush flows from his head to his feet. You find yourself curious, almost concerned, but you quickly remind yourself of the pain he’s caused you. Your worry just as easily turns into enjoyment. 

“You’re right,” he mumbles. You scoff, the words sound absolutely foreign coming from his obnoxious mouth. However, he stares at you. He stares at you blankly - with no indication of what he is thinking, what he is feeling. Your smile slowly forms into a line. “I didn’t know who you were,” you repeat softly. His eyes solemnly rake over your body until they fall upon your lips. He avoids eye contact as you continue your thought. 

“I knew the man, I-,” you start to fumble on your words. “I knew who you were talking about.” For some reason, you feel the need to be truthful, to clarify his twisted idea of what occurred. “I knew you were asking if I knew Ed-” you take a sharp breath. His name hurts - a new sensation that you immediately despise. “Eddie,” you let out in a sigh. The only way the name would fall out as you exhale from the pain it causes. “But I knew you weren’t him, even in that first moment. I lied to myself, I can see that now.” You peer down at your anxious fingers as they dig into your nail beds. “I wasn’t ready to accept the truth, but I didn’t lie to you,” your voice growing more clear and confident as you end your statement. 

A wave of emotions floods Kas’ brain. He can’t ignore the pain you caused. The crack in his heart that caused him to leave you in a puddle of your own tears. But can he really blame you for what you did? For thinking he might have been the man you loved. For being confused. Exactly how he is not to blame for the intense fire within his chest anytime he catches a glimpse of you. 

Eddie may be dead, but there is a part of him that is fresh and beating within Kas’ chest. He loved her. Loves her? He squeezes his eyes shut as he runs his fingers through his hair. He slowly lowers into a crouch as he ponders over her words. He tries desperately to keep Vecna’s out… She did this. She left you to die.

“Now, it’s time for you to tell me the truth, Kas,” you demand with a wobbling voice. “What the hell happened back there?” He pulls his head out from his hands as he looks back up at you. You try to suppress the anxiety that presents at the bottom of your throat. “You loved him,” he whispers as he grips harshly against his chin. Any reference to Eddie also pains Kas, like acid in his mouth. 

With a quick movement, Kas stands before you, straight and tall. “When you would sleep together,” he starts. Your eyes harden as your brows pull together. Upon the sight of you, Kas chuckles. “When you were actually sleeping, darlin’,” he corrects with a smirk. Your face softens as you nod in encouragement for him to continue. He looks off, behind you, almost as though he can see a picture of the scene before him. 

“You would always wake him up with your snoring,” he laughs, biting his lip. “But he was grateful. It always gave him a chance to watch you. You - you looked so peaceful, you know?” His smirk transforms into a smile of remembrance as his eyes quickly pan over to you. “He loved pushing this silly strand behind your ear,” he says as he slowly reaches for your face. You instinctually pull away, but slowly allow him to touch a piece of hair dangling before your face. He places it behind your ear with a gentle finger. 

“He was crazy about you,” he says softly, as though the words mean nothing. But you know better. Those words mean everything to you - to you and Eddie. Those words are gut-wrenching to hear, but you do your best not to show it, still unwilling to expose your vulnerability.

“In the cafeteria, he would watch you. Always making sure that his girl was alright,” he chuckles. “Even before you were really his.” Your face twitches in confusion as the feelings coursing through your veins continue to contradict each other.  “He always watched you,” he says as he closes his eyes. “Catching glimpses of your smile in between the chaos of that room. He didn’t even know your name yet.” His face contracts, as though he is also confused. “How did he know he loved you without even knowing you?” he asks as he finally opens his eyes. Genuine curiosity fills those deadly chocolate eyes.

Brown, they’re brown - not red. Not anymore. 

The silence brings your attention to your wobbling bottom lip. Your brows push together. You are sure there is a wrinkle forming between them. “He told me he was always curious about me,” you start self-consciously. You wanted to know more - to hear more, but you didn’t want to give Kas any more than you needed to. 

“I remember the first time he saw you,” Kas starts with a lighthearted breath. Part of him hated this. Hated talking about the man he could never be. Another part felt happiness, an overwhelming feeling that floods through his body. It grows as he recognizes the same happiness within your eyes. Even though he is split, he must continue - for you. 

“You were this nervous girl, tightening the straps to your backpack when you walked down the hallway,” he continues. He gestures a line between them as though he is mapping out the school’s halls. You watch his hands intently. “He was a junior. He knew he shouldn’t even be looking at you - fresh meat and all.” He immediately acknowledges the confusion on your face and clarifies, “Dibs go right to first year Hellfires, but you…” He chuckles with a shrug. He tsks between his cheeks as he beams into a smile. “For you, he’d break all the rules.” 

Kas analyzes your reaction. Concern washes over him as he watches a tear stream down your cheek. To his surprise, a smile immediately follows. A smile that he is sure you are not even aware of, which makes it that much better. He could see why he loved you. Why he fell for you the second his eyes landed on yours. You are beautiful, despite your annoying, strong headed attitude. 

“Then that night, you called him up on your birthday,” Kas adds with amusement. “He was shocked that you even managed to get his number. He was devising a plan to get yours for the past year and a half.” His eyes widen at the sound of a small giggle falling from your lips. You are still enthralled with the memory, not yet ready to fall into reality. Fall back with Kas. You wanted him. “When he finally got to talk to you, he knew,” he shares with his smile closed and pulled to the side. “I don’t know how, but he did.”

He stops speaking, leaving silence to fill the air. He watches as you slowly flow back into real life. He notes the point where your happiness dissipates. Your eyes fall upon his, leaving that visual imaginary world depicted by his words. You are reminded of where you are now, and how much you wish you could go back. Go back to that opening in the woods, to that bench. You are hesitant of the memories he has shared, of their purpose. But above all, you are grateful. 

“Thank you,” you whisper as you nod, looking everywhere but his eyes. “You’re welcome,” he responds with a hint of confusion. 

After a brief interlude of awkward silence, you say softly, “Kas, can you please tell me how we got here?” You take a step to approach him and his tree. He straightens up, hopeful of you closing the distance between your bodies. Finally, your eyes scan his chest and note the many pink scratches across his skin. Taking another step, you slip upon a branch. Your weight shifts quickly and you feel a soul-crushing pain exude up your right leg. The pain brings along the memory of you floating in front of your two killers. 

In a panic, you immediately look down to note that your leg is fine, and that you, too, have a pink scratch against the side of your shin. “What did you do to me?” you scream as fight or flight ensues. You squeeze your eyes closed, begging for your memories to share some insight into what happened to you - desperate not to depend on just Kas’ recollection. 

Kas stands with eyes to the ground once more. You begin to notice this guilty tell of his. “You don’t need to remember that. You should just go - go now,” he encourages. His palms towards you as he approaches, turns you around, and attempts to walk you out of the woods. “No!” you exclaim as you pry his hands off of you. His solemn face drops as he realizes there is no getting out of this.

“Tell me what the hell happened, Kas! Now,” you demand as you point to the ground with a stomp. Your entire body fuming as you struggle to find peace with what you have learned. “Okay,” he says calmly. “But promise me, after I do, you’ll leave this place.” You take a deep breath, biting your lip as you watch him with fury. After he tells you what happened, you would have no reason to stay here. To stay in this fucked up version of Hawkins. You would finally be free from this never-ending shit show. Finally, you would be free to grieve. To mourn.

“I promise.”

“Kill her, for me,” Vecna booms with excitement in his eyes. Kas could not help but notice the odd interest he had in him. Almost as though every interaction was an experiment meant to be further analyzed and studied. Usually, the words ring true in his mind anytime Vecna speaks. But this time, the words were rotten. They were impossible to follow. An impenetrable idea in his heart and in his mind that the girl before him cannot die. And most definitely not by his own hands. 

Kas has never disobeyed an order. He killed as easily and as quickly as the words fell from Vecna’s mouth. He did it without regret, without remorse. He killed with laughter, enjoyment. Just as Vecna taught him. He particularly enjoyed the fellow students who recognized his former self. Each one assumed that he would help them, save them. Yet, they all called him a freak, a satanist, a murderer. They were right about two of those things anyway, and he made sure to prove it to them with their slow deaths.

But now, he is stuck - desperate for a way out. Unsure of the safest path forward. The path that will bring you to the sanctuary you deserve. He caused your pain, the least he could do was get you out of it. His eyes travel from the horrific sight before him to Vecna’s melted flesh. A twinge of pain in his brow as he attempts to gather the words. Naively hoping that maybe, just maybe, Vecna will understand and let you go. 

Before he can do anything, Kas hears a simple whisper fall from your mouth. A whisper so sweet, so soft that it sounded like it came straight from the heavens above. And with those words, the words you thought would be your last - “I’m crazy about you, Eddie,” his heart filled with undeniable love. 

A flash of your smile floods his mind. Laughter that he would be lucky to listen to for the rest of his life. A moan so sexy and daunting that he had to hear more. Another flash and he stumbles back, almost in pain. Hands rushing to his head as he presses the base of his palms against his brow bone. He is transported back in time. Back to you...

“Hey, don’t forget the popcorn, babe,” he says while munching on the last kernel. What appears to be an action movie blasts loudly across the screen. Kas recognizes the space - it’s HIS trailer. He looks to his right and lands on your beautiful smile. He almost doesn’t notice that you were wearing his t-shirt, strawberry printed panties, and fuzzy long socks bundled at your ankles. You jump over to him in excitement. The popcorn nearly falling out of the bowl. 

“Wait, wait, wait,” you say with increasing volume. Your hand rests lightly upon his chest as your other hand gestures towards the tv. Your eyes are on the movie, but his are glued to you. “This is my favorite part,” you gleam as you softly pat his chest. “I’ll be back,” you imitate in a low-toned and thick accent. 

This was the moment. The moment he knew, without a doubt, that he loved you. From that moment forward, he had every intention of making you his life partner - his wife. He had met his soulmate and he was beyond thankful, knowing that not everyone is as lucky as he. 

“I’m crazy about you, girl,” he whispers as he pushes back that familiar strand of hair that always falls in front of your face. Your smile grows as crimson rises to your cheeks. Your chin pins to your chest as you express a sweet mix of appreciation and embarrassment. 

“Oh, my love,” you whisper as you cup your hand to his cheek. He could feel your warmth. He leans into it. In this simple embrace, you have given him everything he has ever wanted. “I’m crazy about you, Eddie.” He rushes into the kiss, almost as though you may disappear before his very eyes. His hands grip tight around your waist and lower back, determined to never let you go as long as you wanted him. He loved you from the day he saw you, but this was the day he knew you loved him back. 

Kas winces, pulling out of the memory as he stumbles a few steps back. An ambiguous streak of concern riddles Vecna’s face. Save her, a familiar voice rings clear through Kas’ mind. Vecna immediately replies, “No, you must kill her. Kill her for me.” Kas could not even comprehend that Vecna was answering his thoughts. His heart shreds, splitting in two as he struggles to find solid ground. Save her, the voice enunciates once more. 

His eyes flick up towards Vecna. Eyes glowing red as they stare into the soulless being. A subtle shock is depicted upon Vecna’s face in response to Kas’ physical defiance. With a quick outward throw of his hand, Kas’ energy propels Vecna out of the home and straight into the ground a few meters down. Broken wood falls everywhere. Insulation slowly seeping from the cracks.

Kas stares at this hand curiously. He did not know he was capable of such power - power comparable to his. He never needed to use it. Most definitely not when met with Vecna. With a quick glance to his incapacitation, Kas jumps towards your still floating body and wraps his arms around you. His forearm supports your neck, while his other holds your knees. He tries his best to avoid the sight of your damaged leg. It evokes a confusing and distinct feeling within that pangs his sternum.

He holds you tight against his chest, primarily for his own benefit. The warmth you exude transcending deep with his own skin, providing the comfort he desperately sought for. Before he could step out the door, Vecna gracefully lifts from the ground with ease. He lands gently before the two of you, despite the fury building within his expression. 

All Kas could do was watch in horror. He has never once felt vulnerable before, and yet, here he is - with the most important being in the world within his arms - within harm’s way. With a simple firm hand, Vecna flings Kas against the living room. His back bounces off the wall as a ragged and pain-filled grunt drops from his mouth. 

A vengeful force pinning his head against the peeling and painted walls. Your body left rigid and exposed across the floor. He tries so desperately to pull his crown from the wall’s surface, but the power was too strong. All he wanted was to ensure your safety. 

Vecna comes into view. Those blackened eyes piercing right into Kas’ soul. “What have you done?” the low, booming voice echoes within the space. It leaves shivers down Kas’ spine. “Let us go,” he spits out through grinding teeth. Suddenly, Vecna raises his clawed hand, causing pain to electrify each and every one of Kas’ pain receptors. Open wounds spread across his chest. The oxidized air stinging the bloodied rips. A scream stills the room, a scream that only the two of them can hear. 

“Us?” Vecna says with an amused tone. He pulls his hand from the traitor’s face. A displeasing taste in his mouth. A sudden shift to his voice and Vecna’s anger appears ten-fold. “You don’t even know who she is,” he whispers as he leans into Kas’ face. His eyes admiring the pained response of his clenched jaw. “I don’t,” Kas struggles to say. He squeezes his eyes shut, hoping that it may distract from the pain. “I don’t know you either,” he manages to let out with a gasping breath. 

Vecna’s eyes harden as he stares within Kas’. A slight head tilt and the pain disappears. Kas takes in a heavy breath, still pinned forcefully against the wall. “You know me,” Vecna mutters as he turns back to your lifeless body. He wishes he could kill you right here. Snap all your bones until you were an unidentifiable pretzel. But in order to do that, he would need to make you conscious, just for the sake of enjoyment in your death. But the thought of your aggravating voice was enough to put the pleasure of torture out of his mind. “No, I know what you want from me,” Kas whispers back. 

With heavied breaths and a tightened neck, Kas manages to lift his head from the wall to stare down onto Vecna’s burnt skull. A slight uptick of Vecna’s brow revealed the impressiveness he saw within Kas’ strength. Impressive, yet worrisome. A slow burning smirk and he returns his hollowed eyes back to the man before him. “And what do I want from you?” he says amusingly as he slowly returns his hand to Kas’ face. 

Kas immediately makes eye contact with the daggered fingers. His heart racing as he takes a loaded breath in through his nostrils. He returns his eyes towards Vecna’s, courage pouring from his irises. “You want a lieutenant. Someone to lead your armies,” Kas spits out with disgust. “You want someone to stand beside you as the world burns.” A bellowing laugh erupts from Vecna’s chest as the hand carelessly falls from Kas’ cheek. “I don’t need someone to lead,” he laughs effortlessly. The words falling without care. “I can lead.” 

Twisting his head, Vecna pushes in closer to Kas’ face. Kas still manages to hold his head a mere inch away from the wall, but nothing more and nothing less. Only what Vecna allows. “Then why did you bring me back?” Kas hisses. His nostrils flare as he stares down his lifted chin. He desperately holds on to any autonomy he can get. 

“I need a partner,” Vecna answers softly. The bit of disdain within his voice can almost be mistaken as vulnerability. He pulls his eyes from Kas’ before he could recognize the twinge of pain within them. He walks back towards your unconscious body. He rakes over you, questioning what Kas saw in you. “You were right about one thing,” he continues as he speaks over his shoulder. “I do want someone to stand beside me as the world burns.” 

Vecna swiftly turns back to Kas. The quick movement almost berating his body with an impenetrable force that flew his head back against the wall. A soft hiss falls from Kas’ lips as he sears from the blunt pain. “What did she do?” Vecna asks as he takes another step towards him. “What did she do that made you give up on everything that we had?” 

Kas begins to feel a tightening against his neck. He coughs as he struggles to gather his breath. He tries his best to calm his body, not wanting to show any response to Vecna’s abuse. “Nothing,” he whispers with a strained voice. “She did absolutely nothing to pull me from you.” 

After a laugh of disbelief, Vecna sucks his tongue against his bottom teeth with a clenched jaw. “She had to do something, Kas,” he says with pseudo-encouragement in his tone. His boisterous attitude disappears just as quickly as it emerged. A wash of despair falls upon Vecna as he slowly realizes what you gave Kas. A thing that he could never give. Kas scoffs, enjoying the pain that resonates on the face before him. 

“You kill innocent people,” Kas asserts with a hindered voice. Now it was Vecna’s turn to laugh. “Innocent? There’s no such thing as innocent people,” he grumbles with another painful chuckle. Kas’ lips form into a solid line as hatred fills his lungs. “Chrissy Cunningham was innocent,” he spits out loudly. Vecna grumbles as a slow smile forms on his face. “Who?” he asks sarcastically. Kas hisses immediately, almost as though he was ready for Vecna’s dismissal. “The girl you killed in front of me,” he retorts. 

Vecna’s back immediately straightens as he stares at Kas in incredulity. “You remember?” he asks quietly. “No, no. You were perfect,” he attempts to understand by speaking aloud to himself. Kas lets out another bustling laugh despite the pain it caused in his wounded body. “How many times did you kill me before I was perfect?” Kas asks nonchalantly. 

The words penetrating Vecna’s thick armor as he stumbles a step back. “How long did it take you to realize that I remembered before you sicked your bats on me? Before you brought me back again and again?” Kas lets out a simple chuckle, feeling the strength holding him against the wall weaken. He stretches his neck, hearing a clear crack in its side. “You killed me and then expected me to call you my savior,” he mutters in disgust. 

As anger boils the blood that courses through his veins, Kas pulls harshly away from the wall. The feeling no different than peeling his skin off of a burning stove. He struggles to muffle the scream forming in his throat, but his eyes are set upon Vecna. He lands harshly onto the floor, evaporating the force that held him up. 

Vecna’s expression rests in a fixed state of complete bewilderment and determination. “You may despise me, but you do love her,” he whispers in a clear monotone. His quick disconnection from reality settles in as his hand slowly raises - and you along with it. Kas’ eyes widen as he watches your lifeless body raise behind Vecna’s shoulder. 

“Would you like to feel the pain you just caused me?” Vecna says carelessly as a sadistic smile pulls to the side of his face. Kas’ eyes quickly scatter between yours and his. His entire body fuels with adrenaline as he watches your body destined for death within the hands of his “savior.” “Wait,” he pleads. His mouth immediately fills with regret as he slowly returns his eyes to the soulless pair before him. “Don’t.” 

Vecna continues to stare into Kas. He internalizes the twitches of his face, all the pained lines drawn upon his skin. A small part of him wonders if Kas will ever care for him as much as he does for you - if he ever has. The words drop as quickly as the thought fades from his mind. “Don’t what?” he mocks. Kas winces as he begrudgingly returns his sorrowed eyes to Vecna. “Don’t hurt her,” he whispers with a lack of intonation to his voice. “I will stay with you, but only if you let her go.” 

A heart flutters faster than intended. Faster than he ever remembered it could. Vecna swallows his pride as he slowly lowers the desolate girl behind him. “Take her to the border,” he instructs as he steps out of Kas’ direct path towards you.

Kas nods as he rushes to your side. His fingers gently brush the hair from your face as he desperately searches your skin for abrasions. “You’re okay. You’re okay,” he says softly and repeatedly. He tucks his arm underneath your neck. Another arm hooks beneath your knees as he slowly lifts both your bodies up from his crouch.

As he heads towards the door without any intention of looking back, Vecna adds, “If she returns, I will kill her.” Kas slowly turns around, following the ear closest to Vecna as he ingrains the threat into his memory. “If you don’t return, I will kill her.” Fear pangs his heart. It is almost audible as his eyes fall to the ground. He slowly turns, careful not to make sudden movements, as he and you both escape death. Vecna watches him as he carries your undeserving being through the threshold. 

As soon as he made enough headway from the now demolished house, Kas bolts into a sprint to create as much distance between you and his maker. He takes you to another piece of the fallen Hawkin’s border. Your body often smacks against his chest within his haste. The sounds are almost reminiscent of the previous night, but he pushes the thought far from his mind. 

Finally, Kas finds an abandoned church along the way. “Saint Jude’s,” he reads aloud as he walks down the stoned pathway. He finds irony in the idea but pushes through the big double doors with you in his arms. He lightly lays you down upon a pew. Another finger brushes the soft strand out of your face - a now involuntary and automatic act of care. His eyes rake your body, assessing the damages. The majority of your skin was racked with bruises. However, the biggest concern was, of course, your broken leg. 

With a heavy breath in preparation, Kas finally takes in the sight of your distorted leg. The image hurt him more than he could have ever imagined. Seething in hot breaths, he raises his wrist and bites harshly against it. Softly, he raises your head to his inner wrist. Your pretty mouth resting nicely against his wound. 

In your woozy state, you push him away. Some part of your consciousness awakens as adrenaline bursts through and your fists begin swinging. He holds you down, despite the blood falling from his forearm. “God, you’re unbearable even when you sleep,” he grumbles. Your defenses slowly soften as you slip back into unconsciousness. He raises his wrist to your mouth once more. His other hand slowly caresses the back of your head as his fingers trace through strands of your hair.

As soon as a drop of blood falls upon your lips, your body craves it. Suddenly, your hands were holding the back of his wrist and pressing his forearm against your face. He tries his best not to find the interaction incredibly arousing, but your embrace, light sucks, and little nibbles make his head swoon. You took as much of him as you needed, falling back in exhaustion once finished. 

Kas hovers over you for what seemed like hours, but is truly only minutes. A smile forms on his face as he watches the bruises slowly disappear from your beautiful skin. “You’re okay, darlin’,” he whispers. The words finally feel true. He places a gentle kiss on your forehead. A kiss you will never know of. 

With that, he carries you up to his chest once more to finish the trek to the border. He cannot help the smirk that plagues his cheeks as he feels you nuzzle against him. A clear, but subtle smile forming on your own lips. 

“And then he let us go and I healed you with my blood,” Kas states matter-of-factly with a shrug. His back still leaning heavily against the tree trunk. Arms and ankles crossed as he slowly raises his eyes onto yours. 

You stumble back, placing a hand against your stomach. Nausea washes over your head as you attempt to process the information provided. You quickly drop to your knees. The movement is sudden enough that Kas jumps from the tree, desperate to catch you. “I’m okay,” you say as you swat his hands away. “I-I just,” you start, breathlessly. “I just need a second. That-that was a lot.” He steps back slowly and hesitantly. He gradually falls into a squat in front of you as he mindlessly picks up random leaves to play with - giving you the space you asked for. 

Your mind feels fixed, almost as though you cannot trust your own memories. What Kas says happened sounds familiar, yet unfamiliar all at the same time. You also cannot forget that the truth does not come so easily from those particular supple lips. You push your fingers through your hair, trying not to burst into sobs over the lack of control. It is not easy to accept being a toy in someone else’s game, to accept no longer being the main character. 

From what Kas shared, you should be safe. You should be free, yet - you feel anything but. Something was not right. “Kas,” you whisper, breaking the silence. His head pops up almost immediately. “So, Vecna tried to kill me. He-he broke my leg,” you attempt to recollect. The words all feeling familiar. “You both fought and then he just agreed to let us go?” you ask in disbelief. Kas nodded, gesturing a compressed shrug with his hands. 

“I don’t believe you,” you say lightly with a shake of your head. 

Kas scoffs as he pushes his curly hair back. The smile almost juvenile as he looks back at you with distrust. “Believe what you want, darlin’,” he shrugs once again. He stands up, making his way back to his trusty tree. “No,” you say abruptly, standing yourself. “There’s no way he would let us go without anything in return,” you murmur to yourself, thinking aloud. “What did you do?” you ask with horrified eyes. 

He deadpans as soon as your question hits his ears. With a deep breath, he whispers, “I got us out.” You walk towards him with a stubborn, determined pace as your palms press against his chest. “What did you do, Kas?” you ask again as you watch him stumble back from your push. With a look of annoyance, he rushes you with a finger pointed in your face. “I saved your life and this is the thanks I get,” he yells with hands out to his sides. “God,” he scoffs, pulling away from you and throwing a hand up. “I did what I had to,” he mumbles as he adds more distance between you two. 

You follow him, a gentle hand to his wrist as you turn him around. Those gentle brown eyes that you know so well staring back at you. This time you recognize Kas within them. “Kas, what did you do?” you ask calmly. His gaze falls to your hand. He slowly lowers your fingers and intertwines them with his before flicking his eyes back to you. “I have to go back,” he whispers, like an innocent boy admitting his wrongs.

You take a sharp breath as you try your best to keep calm, but your head is already involuntarily shaking no. “It’s okay,” Kas murmurs as he tightens his palm against yours. “I’ve made my peace.” Your eyes swiftly fall upon his, tears welling. “No,” you muster. “You don’t have to.” The unbearable weight pressing against your chest has only just lifted, and yet, another hundred or so pounds are added on. A man who pained you so harshly, who then saved you, is going back to hell for you. The words are beyond confusing to think about, but it does not change the feeling of hope you have towards your new ally. 

“You don’t have to go back,” you whimper as your other arm rests against his back and pulls him into a hug. The warmth of his embrace confirms that bit of his story within your own memory. “If I don’t go, I am setting up some other miserable fuck for hell on Earth,” he whispers in your ear as his chin finds a spot upon your shoulder. His hand pressing against the base of your skull, supporting you. “I won’t do that to someone else.” 

You pull away, shaking your head again. His forehead falls against the crook of your neck, almost naturally. “Aren’t you supposed to be the bad guy?” you ask incredulously. His head lifts as confusion presses his brows together. “Why do you care what happens to the next guy?” A smile pulls to the side of his face as he presses his hips against yours. The largest space between you two rests between your chests as you hold each other tightly at the waist. “You must be rubbing off on me,” he mutters softly. 

“Come with me, Kas,” you say as you break away from the embrace. Your fingertips brushing against his as you attempt to walk into the field. The sun is starting the set and the light blue sky fills with orange. As you continue to step into the field, you swear the air tastes different. “I can’t,” he whispers as you pull away and he chooses not to chase you.

The act stops you in your tracks as you look back at him. You take the second to think, to devise a plan. “If I promise you that we can kill him, maybe not today or tomorrow, but some day we will come back and kill him - then, would you come with me?” you ask hopelessly. You have absolutely no idea of how that might happen. How you two might accomplish such a feat. You have never known the need for revenge until meeting Kas. Nothing will stop you from finding out how to put Vecna in the ground, and suffer as you do it. 

Without thinking, the words fall from your lips all with good intent, “I promise you. Will you come with me?” You walk back to the border, only a step away from the impending doom that is Hawkins. Your hand extended for someone who is just as capable of that same doom, and yet, you pray he will take it. You hope he will join you in this world and that he will help you defeat your lover’s killer. All you can do is hope. A hand falls into yours, breaking your string of thoughts. 

“I will,” Kas says softly as he steps into the orange glow of the sunset.

note: how we feeling? what are we thinking? we have 3 more parts to go and best believe the gang will be making an appearance! thank you for taking the time to read 🤍 i hope you will share your thoughts!

next part • feeling everything •

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taglist: (love you btw) @babeyglo, @dotslabyrinth, @wheaty-melon, @mattymurdocksbitch, @sammararaven, @onlyfengs22, @perle1990, @ms1oftheboys, @ghosttownwherenoonegoes, @tayhar811, @bbyhargrove, @hiscrimsonangel, @ali-r3n, @secretdryrose, @stranger-messenger, @sunnytkm23, @ambthegamer

• nav • no-no plagiarism • series • requests open •

[autogeneratedkahootnickname]

Ok long post buckle in.

I have a friend who's super into theme parks. Or rather, the thrill of a theme park. They're a rollercoaster person. And to this end, they asked if I wanted to take a day trip to one of the more intense regional British theme parks, Thorpe Park, just outside London.

I am not a theme park person. I am deathly afraid of heights, high speeds, drops and helplessness. All of which are fairly core elements of a theme park.

However, I love my friend dearly, so I take them up on it. Best way to conquer your fears is to face them etc.

So Thorpe Park has 5, what I will charitably call, 'nightmare coasters' (in my opinion there are a couple others that fit the bill like Rush, Samurai and Detonator, not really 'rollercoasters' but equally horrifying) that are the main attraction of the park:

1. Swarm:

2. Colossus:

3. Nemesis Inferno:

And 4. Saw

(I could only find a picture of the outdoor lifthill, there's a lot happening in the woods and inside the warehouse too. You get the general idea.)

These are the four rides that I agree to push myself to go on and get our money's worth.

But wait, keen-eyed readers may be wondering, I thought you said there were 5 nightmare coasters! What happened to the fifth one?

Well, there was one of the five that I had ruled out under any circumstances:

5. Stealth

Needless to say, fuck that.

However, my friend loves rollercoasters. And one of their favourites there is, of course, Stealth. So after we've ridden Swarm, I decide, while they're waiting for Stealth, that I'll get something else done instead. A smaller thrill before we move on to Colossus. So I head over to the Walking Dead dark ride.

The Walking Dead ride is a heavily story-driven ride about the park being overtaken by Zombies: you make your way though dark corridors to the ride inside, then afterwards you make your way out through a series of passages on the other side, also in near-complete darkness.

I do the ride, and it's fine. Having just done Swarm it was comparably a lot more chill, but it had some cool ambience. I don't, however, do what the people I was riding with did and use the props (ramps, handrails) to do cool parkour sequences: running, jumping, acting like you're really escaping zombies, if only pretending, on the way back out. I mean, they were there for a reason ig, even if I felt a bit self-conscious doing it in an empty room. I'm naturally fairly lawful and it was still early in the day, so I wasn't in a parkoury mood at the time, but I wanted to make the most of the day. So I thought, when I ride this again with my friend later, I'll ask them to do the jumping and running with me and it'll be a blast.

So I head back to Stealth, they've had a wonderful time, and we then spend the next five or so hours exploring the rest of the park: it's a wonderful day, I mostly get over my fear of rollercoasters (to the creators of SAW, FUCK you but you got me good), but we're in the denouement and in the mood for something a little less intense. So I say, hey, did you wanna try the Walking Dead thing?

They said yes, so we headed over. It was way busier than it had been at like 10:30, so they were more focussed on getting people through than doing the whole show thing, but we stumble through the passages at the start and make our way to the ride. It's a blast, have a marvellous time. And then we depart.

And I say 'hey, remember to do the fun parkour stuff on the way out!'

So we head out into the passages.

And as it turns out.

When I had first done the ride, fairly early that morning, the purpose of the bars and handrails had been to pretend like you were fleeing from zombies.

As I discovered during my second ride that afternoon, you weren't meant to fucking pretend.

So you can imagine my reaction when, having departed through a series of empty tunnels that morning, this second run-through, with no advance warning, featured fucking zombie actors. Who fucking chased you. I don't deal well with heights.

So while I had planned to jump and climb and everything, I ended up just holding both hands up and going 'nope, nope, nope, nope' as I weaved my way around the bars.

Thankfully the cast members were super nice and, realising I was not taking this very well, nodded and let me pass (while still not breaking character which was extremely impressive). My friend, not having experienced the previously actor-less departure sequence, was, of course, having a MARVELLOUS time, and was somewhat confused as to why I was dry heaving on the floor on the way out.

To the people of Thorpe Park, 10/10, very cool, I hate all of you.

[rathologic]

happy mechnikov day cunts let's get it on here's the stress dream I had about bachelor route prototype gameplay an hour ago. first off, it had ipad game controls for some godforsaken reason & you started as the bachelor in some area like the start of a purplish-red ravine. the game UI assets were very clearly ripped from pokemon (as in, great and ultra balls were used as icons for selectables like the plaguefinder) in this area. you would follow this ravine downwards into a dark area where the path would tee; the left path led into a room with a screen playing some silent film on the wall ahead of you, but most of the room was dominated by rows of oldish (~1990s) computer monitors, where each row displayed "I KEEP HEARING THAT VOICE IN MY DREAMS" in green serif text on a red background, intensity flickering. exiting this room and going down the right path hit a loading screen that displayed the text "Exiting crisis...", implying this was all just a vignette introducing the game, and not part of the Town or anything

you then loaded into a first person no UI level where the player character was victor kain (????). the area was the interior of a house, presumably victor's house, I don't recall what was on the first floor but as you went up an open staircase with handrail on the left side of the room (all very dark wood, like the walls of the house which did at least have paintings on them) the player would encounter a young woman, who looked like maria and wore maria's p1 alpha black dress but was blond & her hair kind of glowed, who couldn't be interacted with. at the TOP of this staircase were two more identical versions of this woman, also a landing with two doors. the right door couldn't be opened fully because behind it was the back of the head of some bald man who was about 25% larger-than-life. the left door went into a tiny interstitial room with a TV and couch barely fitting into it. the door beyond that room was a bedroom, equally small and with two p1 factory workers sitting on the bed right next to the door entryway in it, and I clearly remember the player character smiling widely and my assumption being that Victor was about to have gay sex with these guys, but then someone drew him out of it b/c the player had other things to do i.e. me waking up.

ALSO this entire "prototype" came thru some guy's google drive presumably the guy worked for dream IPL, it was in a supposedly broken state and had been receiving patches for about 5 days (specifically since may 10th when the dream mentioned that the ARG had been solved completely by people on a website that doesn't exist. this was described as "Voronika has been saved! check the recent tags on (some other selfie posting website??)", despite voronika not appearing in the current ARG whatsoever). because it was such an early prototype the game would not run unless you had a file named "scorpion.png" (and another image file with a long name) in the same directory as it. and one of the real ARG clues had been distributed exclusively on 1 cassette tape.

hoping that at least a bit of this comes true 👍🚬

[dckerckhoffc]

Balustrade Railings: Combining Safety and Style in Your Home Design

Balustrade railings have long been a staple in architecture, serving as both functional safety features and design elements that enhance a home’s aesthetic appeal. From classic wooden spindles to sleek glass panels, these railings can be customized to fit any architectural style while ensuring the safety of occupants. In this blog, we’ll explore how balustrade railings strike the perfect balance between safety and style, and why they are an essential feature for modern homes.

What Are Balustrade Railings?

A precast concrete balustrade is a series of evenly spaced vertical posts (balusters) supporting a handrail. These structures are typically installed along staircases, balconies, terraces, and decks to provide safety and prevent falls. Beyond their practical function, balustrades are a design opportunity, offering countless materials and styles to enhance your home’s interior and exterior.

The Safety Aspect

1. Preventing Accidents:Balustrade railings are essential for safety, particularly in homes with elevated areas, staircases, or terraces. They create a secure barrier, reducing the risk of falls for children, elderly residents, and even pets.

2. Compliance with Building Codes:Most building codes require balustrade railings for specific spaces. These regulations often specify height, material strength, and spacing between balusters to ensure safety. By choosing the right balustrade, you can meet these requirements without compromising on style.

3. Durability Matters:Materials like stainless steel, wrought iron, and tempered glass not only look great but also withstand wear and tear, ensuring long-lasting safety for your home.

Style That Speaks Volumes

Balustrades aren’t just about functionality—they’re a statement piece in your home’s design. Here are some popular styles to consider:

1. Timeless Elegance with Wood:Wooden balustrades offer a warm and classic look that works well in traditional and rustic homes. Available in various finishes, wood can be carved into intricate patterns or kept simple for understated charm.

2. Sleek Modernity with Glass:Glass balustrades are a favorite for contemporary homes. Clear or frosted glass panels create an open, airy feel, making spaces appear larger. Pair them with stainless steel or aluminum handrails for a polished finish.

3. Industrial Chic with Metal:For an edgy, modern look, opt for metal balustrades. Materials like wrought iron or powder-coated steel add character while maintaining durability. Decorative patterns can be incorporated to match your aesthetic preferences.

4. Creative Combinations:Mixing materials is a growing trend. For example, pairing wood with glass or combining metal with acrylic creates a unique, personalized design.

Choosing the Right Balustrade for Your Home

When selecting balustrade railings, consider the following factors:

Material: Match the material to your home’s design theme and the location of the railing. Outdoor balustrades should be weather-resistant, while indoor options can prioritize aesthetics.

Functionality: Think about who will use the space. Homes with children might benefit from balustrades with tightly spaced balusters or solid panels to prevent climbing.

Maintenance: Some materials, like glass, require more upkeep than others. Evaluate how much time you’re willing to invest in cleaning and maintenance.

Final Thoughts

Balustrade railings are more than just a protective feature—they are an opportunity to elevate your home’s design. By carefully selecting materials, styles, and finishes, you can create a look that enhances your home’s architecture while keeping your loved ones safe. Whether you prefer the timeless charm of wood, the contemporary elegance of glass, or the rugged appeal of metal, there’s a balustrade style to suit your vision.

With the right balance of safety and style, balustrade railings become a defining element in your home, proving that practicality and aesthetics can coexist beautifully.

Invest in quality balustrade railings today and transform your living spaces into a harmonious blend of form and function!

Elevate Your Home Design with DC Kerckhoff Company

When it comes to enhancing your home with balustrade railings, quality and craftsmanship matter, at DC Kerckhoff Company, we specialize in premium precast concrete solutions, offering durable and customizable balustrades that combine timeless style with unmatched safety. Whether you’re looking for elegant designs for your staircase, balcony, or terrace, our team can help you find the perfect fit to complement your architectural vision.

Discover how our precast concrete balustrades can transform your space. Contact the Best precast concrete suppliers today for expert advice, custom designs, and reliable installation solutions. Let us bring your dream design to life with the durability and sophistication of precast concrete.

[saraanseo]

Decking Handrail Plans

Adding a deck to a house can add focal outside and attracting spots with the capacity to make a room. A deck can be spread out on to the home and worked with around trees or even to wrap a pool.. easy deck scaffold

If the base tumbles from the house it is a sensible subject of attracting the posts so the deck is level with the house floor. There's you shouldn't work with the site or to dispose of woods while the backwoods locale locales strong regions for district for locale for serious for are sound. Decking Handrail Plans

Setting out the Deck decking work cost uk

Woods can be left be the monstrous style of the yard and gives tone and cover. Energetically a tree isn't beast for the style and a cover will be made on top of the deck. Expecting this is what's happening the strings around the deck must certanly be mounted at the whole top of the pergola or shade housetop. As such the posts that improvement ahead through the yard what's as shown by an overall viewpoint according to a general point of view essentially more last the gazebo housetop. Really see all over stages to guarantee your post strong locale for can't truly do whatever it may take not to be for enough placed on both the deck and the pergola rooftop.

Utilizing a string line and a laser level or conflicting level (dumpy level) mix the most raised nature of the deck. Blend the finished level of the deck level with the floor of your home or at your leaned toward level. Level along your home and check ceaselessly for unequivocal the that it is totally straight and level. Then, decide down to stamp the underside of the vehicle. Like:

20mm Decking board

140mm joist

140mm bear

Again for this solid situation you ought to focus in on down 300mm from the finished deck ground stage level and scratching the wall. That appraisal will change with how monster your deck and the different depicted wood you really care about. That improvement down tag is the underside of your carrier or you could as shown by a general perspective whenever consider down 160mm for the most focal spot of the vehicle. At all plan you utilize starting setting your carriers and presents on standard level is expedient. Course tables will have what's happening for showing you the right scattering for the vehicles which will rely upon the assessment and level of your deck. decking handrail level

Picking your wood

In the event that you can direct it type 1 hardwood appears, clearly, to fight and is possible the most strong or H4 treated pine. Both these lumbers can be used in ground; yet I see that it is for every circumstance best to frame hot dropped related with pieces for ground and the wood expected above surface for ideal strength.

[craftvirtuoso]

How to Add a Luxe Touch to Your Home with Contemporary Internal Balustrades

When you think of luxury, what comes to mind? Sparkling chandeliers, plush velvet furniture, maybe a marble bathtub you’ll only use twice a year because you have a shower habit? Well, it’s time to add one more element to that list—contemporary internal balustrades. Hear me out: balustrades aren’t just safety features anymore; they’re a bold design statement that can transform a room from "meh" to "magnificent" faster than you can say “new project.”

Step 1: Choose Materials That Speak Money

Before you dive into the world of balustrades, you need to pick the right materials. And no, I'm not suggesting you take out a second mortgage just to feel fancy. But let’s be real, some materials just scream luxury—like glass and metal, while others whisper, “I came from the bargain bin.”

For that true luxe feel, opt for frameless glass balustrades. They create an airy, open vibe that’s both modern and minimalist. And don’t worry about fingerprints or smudges—just invest in a quality glass cleaner, or bribe a family member to wipe it down in exchange for leftover pizza. Pair your glass balustrade with sleek metal fixtures like stainless steel or matte black for that “I’m a modern-day interior designer” feel.

Step 2: Light It Up Like You Mean It

A luxe balustrade deserves its moment in the spotlight—literally. Installing the right lighting around your internal balustrade can make all the difference. Think soft, ambient lights along the edges, or even some under-stair lighting if you’re feeling extra fancy. You want people to walk into your home and feel like they’re stepping onto the red carpet… or at least the expensive-looking laminate that you really researched online.

You can even go a step further by incorporating LED strips. No, not the ones that turn your house into a 90s disco—let’s keep it classy. Subtle lighting under each step or along the handrail can create an elegant effect without the strobe-light rave vibe. Unless that's what you're going for—in which case, invite me to the party.

Step 3: Mind the Finishes

We all know the devil is in the details, and when it comes to adding luxury to your balustrades, the finish is everything. Whether it’s brushed stainless steel, polished chrome, or even brass accents, pick something that complements the overall aesthetic of your home.

Imagine walking past your gleaming glass balustrade with perfectly finished steel posts and realizing—you’ve made it. You’re not just living in a house; you’re living in a home. And yes, that’s a huge difference. Maybe toss in some rich wood accents if you want a softer contrast. If nothing else, it’ll be an excuse to tell your guests, “Yes, that’s oak, not MDF. We’re fancy like that.”

Step 4: Balance Function with Flair

Luxury isn’t just about appearances—it’s about quality. Your balustrade should be as sturdy as it is stunning. Let’s face it, while we all love a good Insta-worthy moment, you also need something reliable when Aunt Susan grabs the railing after one too many glasses of wine at Christmas dinner.

So, opt for materials and designs that offer both form and function. A well-crafted balustrade won’t just elevate your home’s aesthetic—it’ll keep you safe while doing it. Now that’s what I call multi-tasking.

Step 5: Keep It Simple, But Significant

The key to making your home look luxurious with contemporary internal balustrades is simplicity. Don’t overdo it. Luxury is as much about restraint as it is about indulgence—kind of like not eating the entire chocolate bar in one sitting (which, let’s be honest, is harder than it sounds).

Stick with clean lines, neutral tones, and subtle textures. Let your balustrade be the centerpiece without overshadowing the rest of the room. You don’t want a design that yells “look at me” so loudly that it drowns out your marble countertop or designer lighting. Instead, think of it like the supportive friend who helps everyone else shine while still looking fabulous themselves.

Final Thoughts

At the end of the day, adding a luxe touch to your home with contemporary internal balustrades is all about creating a balance between style and substance. By choosing the right materials, finishes, and lighting, you can create an effortlessly elegant look that will have guests secretly Googling “where to buy fancy glass balustrades” when they get home.

So go ahead, elevate your space. Just don’t be surprised when people start mistaking your house for a boutique hotel—minus the room service.

[abswoodus1]

Why Ipe Railing is the Best Choice for Your Home

Railings are primarily installed for safety, but they also have to look good. After all, they can change the way your home looks. What you need is a beautiful and reliable material that can withstand wear and tear and the elements—and when it comes to this, you can’t go wrong with ipe railing.

Also known as Brazilian Black Walnut or Ironwood, ipe is among the hardest types of wood available. Imagine a baseball bat but 3 times harder. Given its strength, it can last for decades and resist wood-destroying organisms, including termites and things that can make ordinary wood rot fast. As an added bonus, it’s a naturally beautiful hardwood with a luxurious brown hue and grain, which you can preserve with a UV finisher. You can also let the sun transform it into an elegant silver-gray if you prefer that look.

A reliable material for railings and handrails

Handrails and railings provide support and safety for elevated surfaces, such as decks, stairs, and balconies. They can also enhance your home’s overall look and feel.

Certain code requirements may apply to railing installations, so be sure to check the building regulations and safety standards in your area. They may specify the dimensions, installation methods, spacing, and materials required to reduce the risk of injuries and accidents. Ipe railing can help you meet these requirements, especially when it’s supplied by a reputable company and assembled by a qualified builder.

Find your style

Ipe railings come in different styles and serve various functions, so you shouldn’t have problems finding the right option to meet your personal preferences and architectural design requirements.

Traditional wooden railings: Made from solid ipe wood, these railings provide a timeless look you can customize with different baluster styles and profiles to match your deck’s overall aesthetic.

Metal and ipe: Combining metal with ipe railing can create a stylish and modern design. Stainless steel, wrought iron, and aluminum add visual interest and durability to the deck.

Cable railings: These involve stainless steel cables tensioned between the frames or ipe wood posts for a minimalist and sleek aesthetic. This railing offers a sense of openness and unobstructed views without compromising stability and safety.

Find the perfect ipe railings for your home

Your choice of ipe railing should ultimately depend on your budget, desired aesthetic, functional requirements, and home’s architectural style. Explore the options at ABS Wood and find the perfect solution for your project. Call 325-508-4990 or 404-549-4840 to get started.

[qtoconstrution786]

Staircases are an integral part of any building, serving both functional and aesthetic purposes. Whether in residential homes, commercial buildings, or public spaces, the design and construction of a staircase require careful consideration to ensure safety, accessibility, and style.

Key Requirements for a Good Staircase

A well-designed staircase not only complements the overall architecture of a building but also adheres to stringent safety and structural guidelines. Below are the essential requirements that every staircase must meet:

1. Structural Integrity and Durability

The foundation of any good staircase lies in its structural integrity. The materials used - be it wood, steel, concrete, or glass - must be strong enough to support the anticipated load without flexing, warping, or showing signs of wear over time. The choice of materials should align with the intended use of the staircase, taking into account factors such as foot traffic, environmental conditions, and maintenance requirements.

2. Safety Standards and Regulations

Safety is paramount when designing a staircase. Compliance with local building codes and regulations is non-negotiable. This includes the correct rise and run dimensions, proper installation of handrails and balustrades, and the use of non-slip materials on treads. Additionally, the staircase should be designed to prevent accidents, with features such as uniform steps, adequate lighting, and visible edges.

3. Ergonomic Design

A good staircase must also be ergonomically designed to ensure comfort and ease of use. This involves considering the height and depth of each step, the angle of ascent, and the width of the staircase. An ergonomic staircase reduces the risk of fatigue and strain, making it easier for people of all ages and abilities to navigate.

4. Aesthetic Appeal

While functionality and safety are critical, the aesthetic appeal of a staircase should not be overlooked. The design of the staircase should complement the architectural style of the building, whether it's a modern minimalist home or a grand, classical structure. The choice of materials, finishes, and design details such as railings, balusters, and newel posts can significantly enhance the visual impact of a staircase.

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The Ultimate Guide To Choosing an Exterior Wall-Mounted Handrail

When you imagine stable, safe, and stunning exterior stairways, the importance of an Exterior Wall Mounted Handrail cannot be overstated. These handrails provide essential support and stability when climbing or descending stairs. Discover the extensive collection of Exterior Wall Mounted Handrails at Stair Warehouse.

Wall-mounted handrails are directly attached to the wall using brackets and mounting hardware, rather than being installed on posts. They follow the angles and lines of the wall, ensuring both safety and stability.

Exterior Wall Mounted Handrails are more than just safety features; they can also enhance the curb appeal of your home. Choosing the right materials, styles, and functionalities is crucial. This comprehensive guide will assist you in finding the perfect handrails:

Tips for Choosing an Exterior Wall Mounted Handrail:

Material Matters:

Wall Mounted Handrails come in various materials, each with unique advantages:

Wrought Iron: Extremely strong and durable, wrought iron handrails offer timeless elegance but require proper maintenance to prevent rust.

Stainless Steel: Known for its weather resistance, stainless steel combines strength with a modern aesthetic, though it may be more expensive.

Wood: Wooden handrails are naturally beautiful and add warmth to your space but need regular sealing to withstand harsh weather conditions.

Choosing a Design:

Handrails provide more than just safety; they can enhance your home's architectural style. Handrail materials vary, but the design options are endless. You can choose from sleek and minimalist to modern handrails that fit your traditional, modern, or rustic home. Seek professional help to select the right one.

Styles and Functionality:

Consider the best style for your Exterior Wall-Mounted Handrails. Straight handrails are ideal for linear walkways, while curved options can complement your outdoor space. Adding scrolls or end caps can enhance the handrail's personality.

Functionality is key. For more stability on stairs, consider sturdy materials and a secure mounting system, especially for elderly or young users. If aesthetics are a priority, opt for visually interesting designs.

DIY or Professional Installation:

Some wall-mounted handrails are designed for DIY installation. However, the complexity of the project varies. Follow the instructions carefully. If the project involves complex cuts and anchoring into specific wall materials, professional help might be necessary.

Maintenance for Lasting Beauty:

To keep your stair parts in top condition, regular cleaning, rust prevention, and wood care are essential, depending on the material you choose.

Shop for an Exterior Wall Mounted Handrail at www.stairwarehouse.com. With a range of handrail profiles available, we ensure a secure and stylish solution for any staircase. Call us at 800-591-7224 for more information.

Resource:https://stairwarehousereviewsblog.wordpress.com/2024/07/05/the-ultimate-guide-to-choosing-an-exterior-wall-mounted-handrail/