amy and rory chilling at home in between trips, summer of 2012, watching the olympics. stadium’s suddenly empty and they’re both waiting for the sound of the tardis in the backyard any second now. oop, wait, crisis averted apparently, guess the doctor didn’t need to intervene after all lol, wasn’t that odd? oh dunk, some rando just grabbed the torch off the fallen torchbearer! ah well, this might as well happen, the opening ceremony is already so goddamn weird. haha that guy’s a little over dressed for a run-

wait

those pants. rory i know those pants. rory

In The Middle of Nowhere (Part 2)

AI-Less Whumptober 2023: 1. Drugging, 5. Kidnapping, 17. Hypothermia, 20. Dehumanization Fandom: Top Gun, Top Gun: Maverick, dark!Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw, dark!Jake "Hangman" Seresin, Reader (no relationships) Summary: You wake up to find that you have been drugged, tied up, and taken to the middle of the woods on a cold, snowy night. The two men grinning down at you scream trouble but you are about to discover it is worse than you could have possibly imagined... Word Count: 5523 TW: Drugging, Kidnapping, Tied Up, Frostbite, Forced Undressing, Language, Mentions of Murder and Mutilation, Hunted for Sport, Getting Off on Thoughts of Violence/Death, Bradley is Taller than Reader, Reader's POV Notes: I am EXTREMELY proud and excited about this series and hope you enjoy! Huge thank you to @loverhymeswith and @green-socks for all of your help!💕 Part of @ailesswhumptober's event

Series Masterlist

Something cold and wet lands gently on your cheek. Though very light, it’s enough to rouse you from your sleep. As you shift, trying to find a more comfortable position to lie in, your head pounds painfully in time with every beat of your heart and you moan softly. You must have had a few (or more) shots before leaving work last night because you can’t remember getting home…or how you got home…or even closing down the bar. How much did you have to drink?

It’s cold—much colder than it should be—and you vaguely wonder if your heater crapped out again. The last time that happened, it took your landlord almost a week to fix it so you really hope that isn’t the case. You try to reach for your blanket, wanting to just curl up in a warm cocoon to sleep off this headache, but your arms seem stuck or tangled together somehow. Could you have fallen asleep in the middle of taking off your shirt again? It has only happened twice but both times were when you were blackout drunk so it wasn’t out of the realm of possibilities…

Reluctantly, you force your eyes open so you can figure out what stupidity you have gotten yourself into this time–only to freeze as your vision comes into focus. 

You had expected to see your bedroom ceiling or even possibly the ceiling of the bar’s break room above you, but instead, you open your eyes to see a man leering down at you, his face twisted into a sort of predatory grin. 

Though the gleam in his eye is giving you the creeps, you try to remain calm even as your heart begins pounding in your chest. There could be a thousand perfectly innocent reasons this man is here looming over you like this and it’s best to not jump to conclusions until you know what’s going on. Besides, there is something vaguely familiar about this burly brunet. You know you have seen him somewhere before, though your groggy mind can’t quite place him. However, as soon as a second man (this one blond) steps into view, it all comes rushing back—these two had been at the bar earlier.

You hadn’t interacted with the first man very much, just took his order, poured him his drink, and topped it off once or twice when he got low. However, it hadn’t escaped your attention that he never took his eyes off of you the entire time you chatted with his buddy. And while the brunet had kept his distance, this blond had bent over backward trying to capture every ounce of your attention all night long. You had been bartending long enough to know exactly what kind of guy he was and what he was angling for, but you had to admit, those mesmerizing green eyes and the way that cocky smile curled around the toothpick he was chewing on all night did make you a little weak in the knees.

However, all of that quickly flies from your mind as your eyes settle on the large hunting knife the blond is currently spinning in his hands as he licks his lips, grinning at you. 

Something is wrong. Very wrong. Get out now! A wave of terror clears the remaining fog in your mind as all of your instincts scream at you to flee. But as you try to scramble up off your back, you finally notice the thick rope wrapped around your wrists and another around your ankles. And to make matters worse, you seem to be lying in a small metal box of some sort. Your body has been crammed and twisted at a weird angle in order to fit, and the way it resembles a coffin makes a fresh chill run up your spine. 

As you release a shuddering gasp, you realize that though restrained, your mouth has been left uncovered. Instantly, you begin screaming as loud as you can, alternating between “help” and just a wordless high-pitched shriek as you thrash around within the box. Pain shoots through you as your knees collide with the sides of the box and you hit one of your funny bones, but you ignore it and just keep screaming. 

After a moment, you catch sight of your kidnappers’ faces and your heart sinks. They are expecting this. And what’s worse, based on their sadistic smirks, they are enjoying this. Which means they’re not concerned about anyone hearing you, no matter how much noise you make.

Though terrified by this realization, you force yourself to fall silent and lie still, not wanting to give them the satisfaction of watching you continue to beg for help. 

Seemingly satisfied you are done with your freak-out, the brunet pulls himself up the side of the box until he looms over you, his broad frame filling your entire field of vision. His gaze travels down your prone form, lingering on your ass, breasts, and lips before he finally locks eyes with you. His lips curl into a sickening grin as he says, “Well, hello there, sweetheart. Ready to have some fun?”

Without waiting for an answer, he looks at the blond and jerks his head in your direction. Suddenly, everything around you begins to shake as you hear a metallic thud followed by the loud thumping of boots, and the blond appears towering next to you. He gives you a wink and a small click of his tongue before his hands slide under your shoulders and he lifts you up. As he does so, the brunet grabs your feet and you are roughly hauled out of the container.

As they lift you out, whatever insolation or protection the box had been providing you disappears and you are hit with the full chill of the late winter’s night air, causing you to instantly start shivering. For the first time, in the light of the electric lanterns the men had placed around the area, you get a good look at yourself and realize that while the men are dressed in heavy jackets layered over the flannel shirts they had on at the bar, you have been stripped down to your underwear and the thin tank top you were wearing that night under your uniform. At least you had opted for your boyshorts tonight instead of your thong, but you still shiver once more—and this time, it has nothing to do with the cold.

There is no telling what these men did to you while you were unconscious. Obviously, you must have been manhandled to some degree if they undressed you, tied you up, and stuffed you into a box, but was that as far as they went? Or did they have a different kind of fun with you while you had no way of fighting back or saying no? Tears sting the corners of your eyes as a hundred different scenarios play out in your head, and you hope it just appears like your eyes are watering from the cold. You would hate for these two to think they have broken you already.

As they stand you up on the snow-covered ground, your bare feet sink in the soft powder almost up to the top of your ankles. You gasp as you try to bounce from one foot to the other in an attempt to provide your poor feet any relief from the cold, but the rope around your ankles causes you to almost topple over. The only thing that keeps you from crashing into the snow is the brunet who reaches out to steady you. Silently, he bends down and unties the rope, though once he’s done, he walks away without touching the one still wrapped around your wrists. 

Now able to bounce more steadily as you try to keep your feet from going completely numb, you begin to take in your surroundings. Glancing over your shoulder, you see a big, black, lifted pickup truck with an open metal toolbox in the bed—which explains why you were so cramped in the box. Looking past the truck, all you can see is rows and rows of trees. They seem to go on forever until disappearing into the void of darkness just beyond the glow from the lanterns. No wonder these men hadn’t worried about your screaming. There are enough woods outside of town that you could currently be ten or fifteen miles from anyone who could help you.

There’s no one but you and the two men who brought you here.

You don’t know what their plan for you is, but you decide the best course of action is to just be as agreeable as possible until the situation changes. So, forcing yourself to give them a lighthearted chuckle even as another shiver shakes your scantily clad body, you try to make your voice as positive as you can. “Hey guys, I don’t know what’s going on here, but if this is your idea of a joke, I don’t find it very funny. So why don’t you just untie me and we can all head back to town.”

“Oh, this is no joke—it’s a game. And you are the missing piece we were looking for,” the brunet says and your forced smile slowly fades. “What do you remember about tonight?”

Still willing to go along with them for now, you close your eyes and try to search through the cloud of fog and fear that is filling your mind. “I…I went to work like usual. Then you two came in an hour or two into my shift.” You nod at the brunet. “You were drinking whiskey, neat.” You nod towards the blond. “And you were having old fashioneds. You sat at the bar for a few hours talking to me in between customers. Yo-you mentioned you were waiting for a couple of friends to make it to town, but they never showed up. Then…” Your memories get fuzzier the later in the night you try to remember. “Then, you left after I announced last calls. You said…you said you’d be seeing me around…”

The two men exchange excited glances as the brunet nods. “You remember more than most….good. It’s more fun when they remember.”

The blond takes a few steps closer to you and reaches out to slowly drag his finger across your lips. “I wonder if you also remember the taste of my tongue in your mouth.”

You flinch away from his touch, diverting your eyes as you feel your stomach threatening to heave. Yes, you remember that too. Against all of your self-made rules and instincts, you had allowed yourself to be charmed by one of your soon-to-be-kidnappers towards the end of the night. 

He had bet you a kiss that he could hit the bulls-eye on the dartboard without looking and you had taken him up on his offer, never imagining he could actually do it. But when he threw the dart behind him, his eyes locked firmly with yours as he did so, and it hit the dead center of the board, he had taken his prize. More than that, you had allowed him to get to second base while he shoved his tongue down your throat. In the moment, you enjoyed it—a lot. In fact, you had even considered asking him to meet you out back once you closed down, but now even the slightest brush of his skin against yours makes you sick to your stomach.

As you cower into yourself, the blond’s grin grows even wider, his green eyes sparkling in the lantern light. “Fuck yeah, you do remember. I gotta admit, if you hadn’t downed that shot so quickly, I was going to try to postpone this whole thing once I got that taste of you. Fucking delicious. I can only imagine how sweet the rest of you must taste. Hopefully, I’ll get a chance to find out later tonight.”

The feeling of nausea rolling in your stomach intensifies and you can feel the bile burning the back of your throat. Swallowing it back down, you choke out, “The shot? What shot?”

“The other part of our bet. Remember?”

Thinking long and hard, you try to recall what else you had agreed to in your bet. When it suddenly comes to you, you gasp, “I agreed to one drink. You put something in it!”

“You made it so easy,” the brunet says, practically purring with delight. “Usually, I have to really struggle to find just the right moment to slip our little concoction in when the target isn’t looking, but you were so preoccupied with your makeout session, I could have injected it straight into your veins and I doubt you would have noticed. And you made it easier still by choosing Fireball. The flavor covers all traces of the drugs unlike vodka shots so I’m not surprised you didn’t have any clue what had happened. That is the point, after all.”

“To get me out here to play your game?” Both men nod. “What kind of game?”

“The rules are simple,” the brunet explains, the electric lights casting sinister shadows across his face as he stalks closer. “You run, we chase. If you make it out of the woods or stumble across anyone else to help you, you win and we disappear into the night, never to bother you again. But if one of us hunts you down before you escape, that person wins the game and their prize is the right to do whatever they want to you as long as they finish the job before sunrise.”

Their prize is the right to do whatever they want to you as long as they finish the job…. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you two?” you spit, all attempts at fake pleasantness abandoned as you are hit by the reality of how epically fucked up this situation truly is. Both men seem slightly taken aback by your drastic shift in tone and you straighten up to your full height as you continue. “I am not a fucking toy for you to play with o-or a prize to be won. One of you will win the right to do whatever they want to me? I don’t give you that right and I’m the only one who has a say in that. You can’t do this!”

“I hate to break it to you, but we can and we have and we will again. This is our game, and we’ve never lost.” The brunet stalks forward until his chest is just a few inches from yours and he sneers down at you. “Do you really think we haven’t heard all this before? Please. We’ve been playing this game once a month for over a decade. ‘Oh, please let me go. I have kids who need me.’ ‘I’ll do anything you want, just don’t kill me!’ ‘If you let me go right now, I promise I won’t tell a soul what happened. No police, I swear.” His voice switches between various high-pitched mocking tones as he imitates their past victims and your heart aches for the hundred or so women who found themselves in this same situation over the years. 

Returning to his normal voice, the brunet leans over until you are enveloped by the visible cloud of his breath in the cold air. “No. The moment we chose you, your life was over. You belong to us now and we are the only ones who have a say in what happens to you now. And tonight…tonight we say you are a fox and we are the hounds who intend to chase you down and rip out that beautiful throat of yours. You are the prey and we are the predators; the hunted and the hunters. And the sooner you accept that the better this will be for all of us. Do you understand?”

You understand. You are about to die out here in the darkness of the trees, hunted down like an animal and subjected to God-only-knows-what horrors before you are finally murdered in cold blood. And while they are pretending to give you a way out, you have lost all feeling in your feet long ago, you can barely bend your fingers in the cold, and you are shivering so much you can barely see straight. In other words, you don’t stand a chance.

The brunet continues to look at you for an answer so you slowly nod your head. Satisfied, he straightens up and walks back over to the blond. 

But before either of them can say anything, you ask, “Why me?”

The brunet turns around. “What?”

“Why did you pick me?”

“Why not?” the blond grins. 

The brunet chuckles softly and shakes his head at his friend. However, he then decides to give you a real answer. “Well, first of all, you’re gorgeous which doesn’t necessarily affect the game but it’s a little of an added incentive to win the prize. Second of all, watching you dart around behind that bar all night, lifting boxes of alcohol, and holding your own against a few unruly customers made us think that you could hold your own out here, at least for a while, which makes things more interesting. And third of all, we could tell you have some fire in you. We like fire. That means you won’t just roll over and give up.”

“Yeah, we do not want a repeat of Des Moines,” the blond groans. “That chick just curled up in a ball crying and wouldn’t even leave the clearing. We finally had to just put her down. It ruined the whole trip.”

“But she’s not going to do that, are you, little fox?” the brunet purrs at you. “No, you’re gonna be one of our fighters. Like our girl outside of Austin. Oh…she was a wiley one.” He traces one finger over the scars littering his face and neck that were partially covered by his scruff. “Fought like a hellcat until the very end, scratching and biting and making sure to leave her mark. But I made her pay for each and every one of these. Just something for you to keep in mind once we start.”

“Oh, damn, I forgot about that.” The blond lets out an impressed whistle. “When I found you two, I didn’t even realize it was at first. I thought you had killed a coyote or a deer or something. And even once I knew, I could barely tell that mess used to be human. You were riding that high for weeks.” 

The two men begin talking over each other bringing up their favorite hunts in the past, each one more horrible than the last. Each story you hear adds a new fear of what might happen to you before the end of the night. However, it also adds fuel to the anger building in your belly. How these two men had been getting away with this for so long, after doing this to so many women, was incomprehensible. Surely someone must have noticed over a hundred women disappearing over the past decade and started to investigate. These two didn’t seem like criminal masterminds by any means, so how had they managed to avoid detection for so long?

As you continue to watch them go back and forth with tales of past hunts, you shake your head and softly murmur under your breath, “Who the hell are you two?”

The two men stop reminiscing and turn to face you. You hadn’t meant for them to hear your question, but apparently they had.

“Have we not introduced ourselves? Aw, where are our manners?” the brunet asks, taking a step closer to you. “You can call me ‘Rooster’ and that Casanova over there—” he jerks his head towards the blond “—is ‘Hangman’.”

“Rooster and Hangm– What the fuck kinds of names are those?” 

“Well, you see, our boy here—” Hangman comes over to wrap his arm around Rooster’s shoulder and slaps him on the chest “—he’s a crooner. Loves to crow when he catches his prey so everyone knows he won. He’s a bit of a showoff. And me…let’s just say my name’s a bit more self-explanatory.” 

With the hand not draped across Rooster’s shoulders, he shifts his arm so his jacket pulls back to reveal a length of rope ending in a noose tucked into his belt. “As much as I love a little foreplay with my knives, it can’t compare to watching someone gasping and struggling for air as they flail wildly three feet off the ground. Then seeing that moment when everything goes still and the light softly dims in their eyes?” He shivers with a small “whoo” of delight. “There’s nothing like it in the world. It’s even better than sex.”

Just when you think these two can’t get any worse, they somehow manage to top themselves. Your voice dripping with disgust, you ask, “Why are you telling me all of this?”

Hangman shrugs. “Because we are killing time until we can start the game and then, in an hour or two, it won’t matter that you know. Plus, it’s nice actually getting to share our accomplishments with someone else for once. That’s the worst downside to having an illegal hobby. You can’t tell anyone about it besides the few people who were there when it happened.”

Suddenly, Hangman’s pocket lights up and the muffled sounds of “Slow Ride” fill the air. Rooster glares at the sheepish blond as he pulls his phone out and glances at the screen. But any contrition he seems to have quickly evaporates and he answers the call as a wide grin splits across his face. 

“Hey, you almost here? We’ve got a real spitfire this time. It’s gonna be one hell of a competition.” Hangman listens for a moment then his face falls. “Damn. Yeah, no, I understand.” Glancing up at Rooster, he mouths ‘not gonna make it’ before turning his focus back to the phone.

With a heavy sigh, Rooster looks down at you. “Sorry, little fox. We weren’t lying before. We were supposed to be meeting some friends who wanted to play too. But it looks like it’ll just be the three of us after all.” 

That predatory gleam you had seen on his face when you first woke up returns as he leans in until his lips are practically brushing against the curve of your ear. In a soft whisper, he says, “But it wouldn’t have mattered. You’re mine, baby girl. I’ve known from the second I laid eyes on you in that bar that I had to have you. Hangman might get to you first and slice you up a little bit, but at the end of the night, it’s going to be me with my hands around your throat as the light leaves your eyes and you take your final, desperate gasp of air.” He leans back with a moan as his eyes flutter closed and his tongue runs across his lips. “Fuck…I’m so hard just thinking about it.”

You have never felt such deep, burning feelings of disgust or anger like you feel towards Rooster. But using that fire coursing through your veins to give you strength, you clasp your bound hands together and drive them into the side of Rooster’s head. Because his eyes are still closed as he revels in the idea of your murder, he never sees it coming. 

Your fists slam into his face and you feel the crunch of his nose behind your force. Both of you topple sideways to the ground but you instantly try to scramble to your feet before he comes to his senses. However, you struggle to use your tied hands to push yourself to your feet in the soft snow and just as you are starting to figure out how to stand, Rooster’s elbow drives into your right temple.

Collapsing like a ton of bricks, the soft snow cushions your fall. Darkness begins closing in until there is just a single circle of light swimming in the center of your vision. Waves and waves of pain are radiating throughout your body and a low moan flows from your lips. 

In that small dot of light, you see a blurry Rooster come into view. There is blood flowing from his nose and a hungry rage burning in his eyes. Leaning in close, he spits, “Be glad the game hasn’t started yet. Otherwise, I would be cutting off each of your fingers one by one before shoving them down your throat. But don’t think I’ll forget this once the hunt has begun.” 

Ignoring his threats, you press your aching temple deeper into the snow, using the cold powder as a sort of ice pack to ease the pain a little. It is the first time all night you are thankful for the freezing snow surrounding you. However, you can also feel it soaking into your tank top and underwear, and you know that being wet in this environment is just going to make things a hundred times worse. But seeing as there’s nothing you can do about it, you just try to focus on the slight relief the snow is providing your pounding head.

Distantly, you hear Hangman end his call and hesitantly approach where you lay. Rooster spits a wad of bloody saliva onto your cheek before rising and turning towards his friend. “What happened?”

“There was a big snowstorm just east of here and the roads are coated in ice. Even the truck can’t make it through for at least a few more hours. So it looks like it’ll just be us this time.”

“Just like the old days.”

“Just like the old days.” Hangman glances down at you. “Is there something I should know?”

“Nothing I couldn’t handle,” Rooster says as he wipes the blood from under his nose with the back of his hand. “She wanted to start the game early, but I made sure she’ll follow the rules from now on. Isn’t that right, little fox?” He nudges your side with the toe of his boot.

The pain throbbing in your head is still overwhelming despite the slight relief provided by the snow and your vision has yet to clear. However, you lift your head slightly and glare at the man towering over you. With all the viper you can muster, you hiss, “Fuck you.”

Rooster’s face splits into a cruel grin, made even more sinister by the blood still staining his face. “That’s my girl.” Then, turning to Hangman, he says, “Well, if they aren’t coming, I guess we can start. Get her up.”

Hangman walks over and hauls your limp body to a standing position. Though you are still unsteady on your feet, you manage to stay upright. Then to your surprise, Hangman pulls out one of his knives from earlier and cuts the rope binding your hands. Your arms ache from being held in the same position for so long and your wrists are rubbed raw from the rope burns, but it is still a relief to be free once more. You immediately shove your numb hands under your armpits in an attempt to get some feeling back to them, but you can already tell it won’t do much good. The rest of your body is too cold to provide much relief.

Grabbing your elbow, Hangman leads you over to where Rooster is standing next to a pile of supplies in the middle of the clearing. He positions you so you are standing facing Rooster and then he goes to stand next to his friend. 

Satisfied everything is set, Rooster says, “It’s time for the game to begin. You have a five-minute head start to get as far away from here as you can. Once your time is up, we start the hunt. The only rules are what I said before: If you find help or civilization before we catch you, then you go free. If one of us finds you before then, the game is over and the winner gets to claim his prize. And your time starts now.” He presses a button on his watch and you hear a soft beep. 

Five minutes. That’s potentially all the time you have left in this world. You know you should take off and try to put as much distance between yourself and this place as you can, but if these are your last moments of life, you are going to give these two psychos a piece of your mind before you go.

“You two are so pathetic,” you snarl. “You see yourselves as these great hunters and killers but you’re shooting fish in a barrel and then boasting about your prize. You drug these girls, strip them down, send them off without a way of even trying to protect themselves, and then brag you are mighty warriors when your victims can’t even put up much of a fight. And the only reason you don’t give anyone a real chance is because you know you might actually lose.”

Hangman nervously glances at Rooster as he shifts uncomfortably. Your words have had their intended effect as doubt settles in on him. However, Rooster doesn’t seem the least bit phased. Instead, he smirks at you as his eyes narrow.

“Nice try, but we’re not falling for it. Now, get going while there’s still time on the clock. We want a challenging game but don’t think for one second we won’t kill you right here if you haven’t moved when the timer goes off. We’ve done it before.”

“At least give me my jacket or shoes or pants or something! I’m gonna get frostbite or hypothermia before either of you can catch me, and then where does that leave your game?”

“What did I just tell you? We’re. Not. Falling. For. It,” Rooster growls.

“I don’t know, maybe she’s right.” Rooster turns his glare to Hangman who shrinks back but continues speaking. “I mean, we’ve never done this in the snow or the cold so we might need to adjust slightly. Plus, her lips are already starting to turn blue and she’s shivering really hard. I don’t want this to turn into another environmental death like last time when the girl fell off the cliff or that time in Reno where the girl got bit by the rattlesnake. If she’s gonna die, one of us should get to be the one who does it, not the cold.”

Rooster sighs as he considers this, his hand scrubbing across the short scruff along his jaw. He turns back to stare at the truck for a long time before he finally nods. “Fine. She can have her jacket back. But that’s all.”

Relief floods through you at the thought of any kind of warmth, but your smile fades as Hangman jogs over to the truck and pulls your jacket out of the back seat. You had forgotten which one you wore to work today. 

While it did have the added benefit of being one of the warmer jackets you owned—a thick hooded jacket with fuzzy sherpa lining that falls to the top of your knees and has several pockets to warm your hands in—it was also a light burnt-orange color that will stand out like a beacon amongst both the pure white snow and darkness of the night. Rooster smirks at you and you have a feeling that he didn’t forget about the color. The olive branch he had extended was in fact covered in thorns.

Yet, as soon as Hangman tosses you the jacket, you quickly pull it on, zip it up, flip the hood up over your head, and jam your fists into your pockets. You are still completely bare from your knees down, but at least the coverage from the snow and the warmth you can already feel melting the chill in your upper half is a vast improvement. You just wish you had been given your boots back as well. Your feet have been completely numb from almost the minute they sunk into the deep snow, and the idea of trying to run miles and miles like this terrifies you. 

But what choice do you have?

Glancing at his watch, Rooster says, “You now have…three minutes forty-eight seconds. Time is ticking.”

There’s no point in wasting any more of the time you have left, so you pick a direction and start walking towards the wall of trees at the edge of the clearing. 

When you pass him, Hangman winks at you, runs his tongue over his lips, and whispers, “I’ll be seeing you real soon.” 

At this point, you aren’t really sure which man you are more frightened of tracking you down. But then your mind flashes back to the pure pleasure on Rooster’s face as he talked about watching the light leave your eyes, and you know who you would rather have find you.

As soon as you leave the clearing, you take off into the dark woods as fast as your frozen feet will allow.

Part 3 coming soon!

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So I’ve heard from this tweet and Ray that the 4th anniversary maintenance time will apparently be 2 hours long, when usually these maintenance periods are 1 hour long. And wasn’t there a maintenance right before/on March 1st that was for PREPARING for future updates as well?

Now, I don’t want to jump to conclusions or anything BAJXJSJ- although I am an expert at that, but…I sort of have my fingers crossed for huge Book 7 update soon 😭 This recent update was rather short, right? Essentially a catch up section for the Shrouds, which was like 12 chapters long if I remember correctly. With updates that short, it makes sense that a bigger one comes by and soon. It feels potentially suitable for a 4th anniversary especially if Malleus is getting more involved, considering he’s features so prominently in official art (but not in game lol😭). The last book 7 update also came OUT OF NO WHERE on March 1st, with barely 2 days of preparation from the announcement. This just all feels rather strange to me? There’s never been two book 7 updates in the same month before, but,,,there’s a first time for everything? 😭 (desperate)

But I’m not getting my hopes up either, I’m trying my best not to jump to conclusions! 🤣🤣 What do y’all think it is that is warranting so many maintenances? A new story event? It’s definitely been a little while since the last one! The last one was Playful Land if I remember correctly (not included Culinary Crucibles and Magic Assault Practice), which started in October and ended around November 22. So yeah, certainly overdue! But if it’s new features, I’m having a hard time trying to imagine what they could be! 🤔 Id love to hear y’all’s thoughts or “wish lists” for the 4th anniversary campaign! ^_^

Fourth anniversary…what are you cooking up? I’m also BEGGING that the fourth anniversary art has the staff members (Crowley) in this art style the way all the students have been presented so far! 😭🙏🐦‍⬛🐦‍⬛🐦‍⬛🐦‍⬛

(Imagine it’s nothing huge and I was overreacting as usual for no reason NAJXJSBXHEHS)

I just adore the idea that Flower Fruit Mountain became a sort of safe haven/getaway for the pilgrims' decendants and overtime the various families just... forgot that this was THAT mountain after generations of information being diluted and forgotten until someone just... accidentally stumbled upon Wukong fresh from the dirt

Secret cool family mountain island.

Plus the rings of volcanos (either a security messure by Wukong, or a result of the Burning) make it super hard for anyone other than a pair of dragons who can fly over, a really good boatman + pig, or a really lucky castaway scholar.

Sandy has known of the island for a while now. He's the only boatman brave/hardy enough to discover the exact inlets between the volcanos that safely pass into the paradise beyond. He keeps it a tight secret - not wanting the island to be victim to the greed of the modern day.

Pigsy and Tang are the next to learn about it. Both had gotten themselves into personal troubles and needed an escape from the world. So their friend Sandy offered to show them a spot where the magic privacy wards were strong, and where they could just be alone with their thoughts. Sandy hesistates to land the boat on the island for real, sensing a strong magic that repels potiential trespassers.

Pigsy appriciates the quiet for once. He wonders what ungrateful jerks do have special access to the paradise as he watches from the side of the ship. He saw dragons flying overhead once - maybe its exclusive to them?

Tang has a major historian/fantasy nerd moment when he sees the location of the region on Sandy's map. It's a dead ringer for the lost country of Alolai! The ancestral home of Monkey Demonkind and the birthplace of the Monkey King himself!! This could be a huge discovery!!! Sandy and Pigsy warn their friend about jumping to conclusions; its likely just a really isolated spot in the middle of the ocean. Tang pouts and disagrees, suggesting that if he could explore the island, he might find remnants of what people could have lived their before.

Tang accidentally puts his theory to the test when a freak storm knocks him off the boat and into the waters surrounding the island. He finds himself washed up on the shoreline of the island, confused/cautiously smug at why the protective wards allowed him access. He immediately ignores the survival aspect of his experience and begins exploring the island to his heart's content - blissfully unaware that Pigsy and Sandy are busy tearing the shoreline apart trying to find him.

The Ao-Longs find themselves in a predicament as they notice that they actually can't hire anyone to follow them onto the island. The wards take one look at what appears to be an invasion of dragons like "Nope. No Entry." and spits all the hired help/guides out. The Ao Longs believe their ancestor gained special permission to visit the island and that only related members of Sea dragon royalty can step foot on it. They mostly just saw it as a "panic room" of sorts when they truly needed to be alone (also alone together wink wink).

The day they meet Wukong was when the couple decided that they desperately needed an "off-grid" vacation from the modern world, esp with their super curious and attention-demanding pup.

A certain dragon pup wanders off and finds both a very pretty waterfall, and a very confused human looking at it...

Lil Mei: "Water slide!!" Tang: "OH SWEET BUDDHA NO!!" *jumps in after her* (*both find themselves in an odd cave...*) Tang: "I am freaking out so hard right now, but please never do that again!!" Lil Mei: *delighted giggling* Tang, looking around: "Wow this place hasn't had a good dusting in a while... I'mma just look around for cool stuff before we try getting out, k?" Lil Mei clinging to Tang's robe: "Yep!"

And ofc... a very curious pair find an odd lump/marker in the dirt of the cave that makes the scholar wonder if it's the burial place for a beloved heirloom or pottery. With the assistance of little dragon claws, he manages to unearth what looks like a weird monkey statue (very cool).

Until the staute begins glowing with a powerful magic energy... (0_ 0)

The Middle of Nowhere (Part 2)

AI-Less Whumptober 2023: 1. Drugging, 5. Kidnapping, 17. Hypothermia, 20. Dehumanization Fandom: Top Gun, Top Gun: Maverick, dark!Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw, dark!Jake "Hangman" Seresin, Reader (no relationships) Summary: You wake up to find that you have been drugged, tied up, and taken to the middle of the woods on a cold, snowy night. The two men grinning down at you scream trouble but you are about to discover it is worse than you could have possibly imagined... Word Count: 5523 TW: Drugging, Kidnapping, Tied Up, Frostbite, Forced Undressing, Language, Mentions of Murder and Mutilation, Hunted for Sport, Getting Off on Thoughts of Violence/Death, Bradley is Taller than Reader, Reader's POV Notes: I am EXTREMELY proud and excited about this series and hope you enjoy! Huge thank you to @loverhymeswith and @green-socks for all of your help!💕 Part of @ailesswhumptober's event

Series Masterlist

Something cold and wet lands gently on your cheek. Though very light, it’s enough to rouse you from your sleep. As you shift, trying to find a more comfortable position to lie in, your head pounds painfully in time with every beat of your heart and you moan softly. You must have had a few (or more) shots before leaving work last night because you can’t remember getting home…or how you got home…or even closing down the bar. How much did you have to drink?

It’s cold—much colder than it should be—and you vaguely wonder if your heater crapped out again. The last time that happened, it took your landlord almost a week to fix it so you really hope that isn’t the case. You try to reach for your blanket, wanting to just curl up in a warm cocoon to sleep off this headache, but your arms seem stuck or tangled together somehow. Could you have fallen asleep in the middle of taking off your shirt again? It has only happened twice but both times were when you were blackout drunk so it wasn’t out of the realm of possibilities…

Reluctantly, you force your eyes open so you can figure out what stupidity you have gotten yourself into this time–only to freeze as your vision comes into focus. 

You had expected to see your bedroom ceiling or even possibly the ceiling of the bar’s break room above you, but instead, you open your eyes to see a man leering down at you, his face twisted into a sort of predatory grin. 

Though the gleam in his eye is giving you the creeps, you try to remain calm even as your heart begins pounding in your chest. There could be a thousand perfectly innocent reasons this man is here looming over you like this and it’s best to not jump to conclusions until you know what’s going on. Besides, there is something vaguely familiar about this burly brunet. You know you have seen him somewhere before, though your groggy mind can’t quite place him. However, as soon as a second man (this one blond) steps into view, it all comes rushing back—these two had been at the bar earlier.

You hadn’t interacted with the first man very much, just took his order, poured him his drink, and topped it off once or twice when he got low. However, it hadn’t escaped your attention that he never took his eyes off of you the entire time you chatted with his buddy. And while the brunet had kept his distance, this blond had bent over backward trying to capture every ounce of your attention all night long. You had been bartending long enough to know exactly what kind of guy he was and what he was angling for, but you had to admit, those mesmerizing green eyes and the way that cocky smile curled around the toothpick he was chewing on all night did make you a little weak in the knees.

However, all of that quickly flies from your mind as your eyes settle on the large hunting knife the blond is currently spinning in his hands as he licks his lips, grinning at you. 

Something is wrong. Very wrong. Get out now! A wave of terror clears the remaining fog in your mind as all of your instincts scream at you to flee. But as you try to scramble up off your back, you finally notice the thick rope wrapped around your wrists and another around your ankles. And to make matters worse, you seem to be lying in a small metal box of some sort. Your body has been crammed and twisted at a weird angle in order to fit, and the way it resembles a coffin makes a fresh chill run up your spine. 

As you release a shuddering gasp, you realize that though restrained, your mouth has been left uncovered. Instantly, you begin screaming as loud as you can, alternating between “help” and just a wordless high-pitched shriek as you thrash around within the box. Pain shoots through you as your knees collide with the sides of the box and you hit one of your funny bones, but you ignore it and just keep screaming. 

After a moment, you catch sight of your kidnappers’ faces and your heart sinks. They are expecting this. And what’s worse, based on their sadistic smirks, they are enjoying this. Which means they’re not concerned about anyone hearing you, no matter how much noise you make.

Though terrified by this realization, you force yourself to fall silent and lie still, not wanting to give them the satisfaction of watching you continue to beg for help. 

Seemingly satisfied you are done with your freak-out, the brunet pulls himself up the side of the box until he looms over you, his broad frame filling your entire field of vision. His gaze travels down your prone form, lingering on your ass, breasts, and lips before he finally locks eyes with you. His lips curl into a sickening grin as he says, “Well, hello there, sweetheart. Ready to have some fun?”

Without waiting for an answer, he looks at the blond and jerks his head in your direction. Suddenly, everything around you begins to shake as you hear a metallic thud followed by the loud thumping of boots, and the blond appears towering next to you. He gives you a wink and a small click of his tongue before his hands slide under your shoulders and he lifts you up. As he does so, the brunet grabs your feet and you are roughly hauled out of the container.

As they lift you out, whatever insolation or protection the box had been providing you disappears and you are hit with the full chill of the late winter’s night air, causing you to instantly start shivering. For the first time, in the light of the electric lanterns the men had placed around the area, you get a good look at yourself and realize that while the men are dressed in heavy jackets layered over the flannel shirts they had on at the bar, you have been stripped down to your underwear and the thin tank top you were wearing that night under your uniform. At least you had opted for your boyshorts tonight instead of your thong, but you still shiver once more—and this time, it has nothing to do with the cold.

There is no telling what these men did to you while you were unconscious. Obviously, you must have been manhandled to some degree if they undressed you, tied you up, and stuffed you into a box, but was that as far as they went? Or did they have a different kind of fun with you while you had no way of fighting back or saying no? Tears sting the corners of your eyes as a hundred different scenarios play out in your head, and you hope it just appears like your eyes are watering from the cold. You would hate for these two to think they have broken you already.

As they stand you up on the snow-covered ground, your bare feet sink in the soft powder almost up to the top of your ankles. You gasp as you try to bounce from one foot to the other in an attempt to provide your poor feet any relief from the cold, but the rope around your ankles causes you to almost topple over. The only thing that keeps you from crashing into the snow is the brunet who reaches out to steady you. Silently, he bends down and unties the rope, though once he’s done, he walks away without touching the one still wrapped around your wrists. 

Now able to bounce more steadily as you try to keep your feet from going completely numb, you begin to take in your surroundings. Glancing over your shoulder, you see a big, black, lifted pickup truck with an open metal toolbox in the bed—which explains why you were so cramped in the box. Looking past the truck, all you can see is rows and rows of trees. They seem to go on forever until disappearing into the void of darkness just beyond the glow from the lanterns. No wonder these men hadn’t worried about your screaming. There are enough woods outside of town that you could currently be ten or fifteen miles from anyone who could help you.

There’s no one but you and the two men who brought you here.

You don’t know what their plan for you is, but you decide the best course of action is to just be as agreeable as possible until the situation changes. So, forcing yourself to give them a lighthearted chuckle even as another shiver shakes your scantily clad body, you try to make your voice as positive as you can. “Hey guys, I don’t know what’s going on here, but if this is your idea of a joke, I don’t find it very funny. So why don’t you just untie me and we can all head back to town.”

“Oh, this is no joke—it’s a game. And you are the missing piece we were looking for,” the brunet says and your forced smile slowly fades. “What do you remember about tonight?”

Still willing to go along with them for now, you close your eyes and try to search through the cloud of fog and fear that is filling your mind. “I…I went to work like usual. Then you two came in an hour or two into my shift.” You nod at the brunet. “You were drinking whiskey, neat.” You nod towards the blond. “And you were having old fashioneds. You sat at the bar for a few hours talking to me in between customers. Yo-you mentioned you were waiting for a couple of friends to make it to town, but they never showed up. Then…” Your memories get fuzzier the later in the night you try to remember. “Then, you left after I announced last calls. You said…you said you’d be seeing me around…”

The two men exchange excited glances as the brunet nods. “You remember more than most….good. It’s more fun when they remember.”

The blond takes a few steps closer to you and reaches out to slowly drag his finger across your lips. “I wonder if you also remember the taste of my tongue in your mouth.”

You flinch away from his touch, diverting your eyes as you feel your stomach threatening to heave. Yes, you remember that too. Against all of your self-made rules and instincts, you had allowed yourself to be charmed by one of your soon-to-be-kidnappers towards the end of the night. 

He had bet you a kiss that he could hit the bulls-eye on the dartboard without looking and you had taken him up on his offer, never imagining he could actually do it. But when he threw the dart behind him, his eyes locked firmly with yours as he did so, and it hit the dead center of the board, he had taken his prize. More than that, you had allowed him to get to second base while he shoved his tongue down your throat. In the moment, you enjoyed it—a lot. In fact, you had even considered asking him to meet you out back once you closed down, but now even the slightest brush of his skin against yours makes you sick to your stomach.

As you cower into yourself, the blond’s grin grows even wider, his green eyes sparkling in the lantern light. “Fuck yeah, you do remember. I gotta admit, if you hadn’t downed that shot so quickly, I was going to try to postpone this whole thing once I got that taste of you. Fucking delicious. I can only imagine how sweet the rest of you must taste. Hopefully, I’ll get a chance to find out later tonight.”

The feeling of nausea rolling in your stomach intensifies and you can feel the bile burning the back of your throat. Swallowing it back down, you choke out, “The shot? What shot?”

“The other part of our bet. Remember?”

Thinking long and hard, you try to recall what else you had agreed to in your bet. When it suddenly comes to you, you gasp, “I agreed to one drink. You put something in it!”

“You made it so easy,” the brunet says, practically purring with delight. “Usually, I have to really struggle to find just the right moment to slip our little concoction in when the target isn’t looking, but you were so preoccupied with your makeout session, I could have injected it straight into your veins and I doubt you would have noticed. And you made it easier still by choosing Fireball. The flavor covers all traces of the drugs unlike vodka shots so I’m not surprised you didn’t have any clue what had happened. That is the point, after all.”

“To get me out here to play your game?” Both men nod. “What kind of game?”

“The rules are simple,” the brunet explains, the electric lights casting sinister shadows across his face as he stalks closer. “You run, we chase. If you make it out of the woods or stumble across anyone else to help you, you win and we disappear into the night, never to bother you again. But if one of us hunts you down before you escape, that person wins the game and their prize is the right to do whatever they want to you as long as they finish the job before sunrise.”

Their prize is the right to do whatever they want to you as long as they finish the job…. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you two?” you spit, all attempts at fake pleasantness abandoned as you are hit by the reality of how epically fucked up this situation truly is. Both men seem slightly taken aback by your drastic shift in tone and you straighten up to your full height as you continue. “I am not a fucking toy for you to play with o-or a prize to be won. One of you will win the right to do whatever they want to me? I don’t give you that right and I’m the only one who has a say in that. You can’t do this!”

“I hate to break it to you, but we can and we have and we will again. This is our game, and we’ve never lost.” The brunet stalks forward until his chest is just a few inches from yours and he sneers down at you. “Do you really think we haven’t heard all this before? Please. We’ve been playing this game once a month for over a decade. ‘Oh, please let me go. I have kids who need me.’ ‘I’ll do anything you want, just don’t kill me!’ ‘If you let me go right now, I promise I won’t tell a soul what happened. No police, I swear.” His voice switches between various high-pitched mocking tones as he imitates their past victims and your heart aches for the hundred or so women who found themselves in this same situation over the years. 

Returning to his normal voice, the brunet leans over until you are enveloped by the visible cloud of his breath in the cold air. “No. The moment we chose you, your life was over. You belong to us now and we are the only ones who have a say in what happens to you now. And tonight…tonight we say you are a fox and we are the hounds who intend to chase you down and rip out that beautiful throat of yours. You are the prey and we are the predators; the hunted and the hunters. And the sooner you accept that the better this will be for all of us. Do you understand?”

You understand. You are about to die out here in the darkness of the trees, hunted down like an animal and subjected to God-only-knows-what horrors before you are finally murdered in cold blood. And while they are pretending to give you a way out, you have lost all feeling in your feet long ago, you can barely bend your fingers in the cold, and you are shivering so much you can barely see straight. In other words, you don’t stand a chance.

The brunet continues to look at you for an answer so you slowly nod your head. Satisfied, he straightens up and walks back over to the blond. 

But before either of them can say anything, you ask, “Why me?”

The brunet turns around. “What?”

“Why did you pick me?”

“Why not?” the blond grins. 

The brunet chuckles softly and shakes his head at his friend. However, he then decides to give you a real answer. “Well, first of all, you’re gorgeous which doesn’t necessarily affect the game but it’s a little of an added incentive to win the prize. Second of all, watching you dart around behind that bar all night, lifting boxes of alcohol, and holding your own against a few unruly customers made us think that you could hold your own out here, at least for a while, which makes things more interesting. And third of all, we could tell you have some fire in you. We like fire. That means you won’t just roll over and give up.”

“Yeah, we do not want a repeat of Des Moines,” the blond groans. “That chick just curled up in a ball crying and wouldn’t even leave the clearing. We finally had to just put her down. It ruined the whole trip.”

“But she’s not going to do that, are you, little fox?” the brunet purrs at you. “No, you’re gonna be one of our fighters. Like our girl outside of Austin. Oh…she was a wiley one.” He traces one finger over the scars littering his face and neck that were partially covered by his scruff. “Fought like a hellcat until the very end, scratching and biting and making sure to leave her mark. But I made her pay for each and every one of these. Just something for you to keep in mind once we start.”

“Oh, damn, I forgot about that.” The blond lets out an impressed whistle. “When I found you two, I didn’t even realize it was at first. I thought you had killed a coyote or a deer or something. And even once I knew, I could barely tell that mess used to be human. You were riding that high for weeks.” 

The two men begin talking over each other bringing up their favorite hunts in the past, each one more horrible than the last. Each story you hear adds a new fear of what might happen to you before the end of the night. However, it also adds fuel to the anger building in your belly. How these two men had been getting away with this for so long, after doing this to so many women, was incomprehensible. Surely someone must have noticed over a hundred women disappearing over the past decade and started to investigate. These two didn’t seem like criminal masterminds by any means, so how had they managed to avoid detection for so long?

As you continue to watch them go back and forth with tales of past hunts, you shake your head and softly murmur under your breath, “Who the hell are you two?”

The two men stop reminiscing and turn to face you. You hadn’t meant for them to hear your question, but apparently they had.

“Have we not introduced ourselves? Aw, where are our manners?” the brunet asks, taking a step closer to you. “You can call me ‘Rooster’ and that Casanova over there—” he jerks his head towards the blond “—is ‘Hangman’.”

“Rooster and Hangm– What the fuck kinds of names are those?” 

“Well, you see, our boy here—” Hangman comes over to wrap his arm around Rooster’s shoulder and slaps him on the chest “—he’s a crooner. Loves to crow when he catches his prey so everyone knows he won. He’s a bit of a showoff. And me…let’s just say my name’s a bit more self-explanatory.” 

With the hand not draped across Rooster’s shoulders, he shifts his arm so his jacket pulls back to reveal a length of rope ending in a noose tucked into his belt. “As much as I love a little foreplay with my knives, it can’t compare to watching someone gasping and struggling for air as they flail wildly three feet off the ground. Then seeing that moment when everything goes still and the light softly dims in their eyes?” He shivers with a small “whoo” of delight. “There’s nothing like it in the world. It’s even better than sex.”

Just when you think these two can’t get any worse, they somehow manage to top themselves. Your voice dripping with disgust, you ask, “Why are you telling me all of this?”

Hangman shrugs. “Because we are killing time until we can start the game and then, in an hour or two, it won’t matter that you know. Plus, it’s nice actually getting to share our accomplishments with someone else for once. That’s the worst downside to having an illegal hobby. You can’t tell anyone about it besides the few people who were there when it happened.”

Suddenly, Hangman’s pocket lights up and the muffled sounds of “Slow Ride” fill the air. Rooster glares at the sheepish blond as he pulls his phone out and glances at the screen. But any contrition he seems to have quickly evaporates and he answers the call as a wide grin splits across his face. 

“Hey, you almost here? We’ve got a real spitfire this time. It’s gonna be one hell of a competition.” Hangman listens for a moment then his face falls. “Damn. Yeah, no, I understand.” Glancing up at Rooster, he mouths ‘not gonna make it’ before turning his focus back to the phone.

With a heavy sigh, Rooster looks down at you. “Sorry, little fox. We weren’t lying before. We were supposed to be meeting some friends who wanted to play too. But it looks like it’ll just be the three of us after all.” 

That predatory gleam you had seen on his face when you first woke up returns as he leans in until his lips are practically brushing against the curve of your ear. In a soft whisper, he says, “But it wouldn’t have mattered. You’re mine, baby girl. I’ve known from the second I laid eyes on you in that bar that I had to have you. Hangman might get to you first and slice you up a little bit, but at the end of the night, it’s going to be me with my hands around your throat as the light leaves your eyes and you take your final, desperate gasp of air.” He leans back with a moan as his eyes flutter closed and his tongue runs across his lips. “Fuck…I’m so hard just thinking about it.”

You have never felt such deep, burning feelings of disgust or anger like you feel towards Rooster. But using that fire coursing through your veins to give you strength, you clasp your bound hands together and drive them into the side of Rooster’s head. Because his eyes are still closed as he revels in the idea of your murder, he never sees it coming. 

Your fists slam into his face and you feel the crunch of his nose behind your force. Both of you topple sideways to the ground but you instantly try to scramble to your feet before he comes to his senses. However, you struggle to use your tied hands to push yourself to your feet in the soft snow and just as you are starting to figure out how to stand, Rooster’s elbow drives into your right temple.

Collapsing like a ton of bricks, the soft snow cushions your fall. Darkness begins closing in until there is just a single circle of light swimming in the center of your vision. Waves and waves of pain are radiating throughout your body and a low moan flows from your lips. 

In that small dot of light, you see a blurry Rooster come into view. There is blood flowing from his nose and a hungry rage burning in his eyes. Leaning in close, he spits, “Be glad the game hasn’t started yet. Otherwise, I would be cutting off each of your fingers one by one before shoving them down your throat. But don’t think I’ll forget this once the hunt has begun.” 

Ignoring his threats, you press your aching temple deeper into the snow, using the cold powder as a sort of ice pack to ease the pain a little. It is the first time all night you are thankful for the freezing snow surrounding you. However, you can also feel it soaking into your tank top and underwear, and you know that being wet in this environment is just going to make things a hundred times worse. But seeing as there’s nothing you can do about it, you just try to focus on the slight relief the snow is providing your pounding head.

Distantly, you hear Hangman end his call and hesitantly approach where you lay. Rooster spits a wad of bloody saliva onto your cheek before rising and turning towards his friend. “What happened?”

“There was a big snowstorm just east of here and the roads are coated in ice. Even the truck can’t make it through for at least a few more hours. So it looks like it’ll just be us this time.”

“Just like the old days.”

“Just like the old days.” Hangman glances down at you. “Is there something I should know?”

“Nothing I couldn’t handle,” Rooster says as he wipes the blood from under his nose with the back of his hand. “She wanted to start the game early, but I made sure she’ll follow the rules from now on. Isn’t that right, little fox?” He nudges your side with the toe of his boot.

The pain throbbing in your head is still overwhelming despite the slight relief provided by the snow and your vision has yet to clear. However, you lift your head slightly and glare at the man towering over you. With all the viper you can muster, you hiss, “Fuck you.”

Rooster’s face splits into a cruel grin, made even more sinister by the blood still staining his face. “That’s my girl.” Then, turning to Hangman, he says, “Well, if they aren’t coming, I guess we can start. Get her up.”

Hangman walks over and hauls your limp body to a standing position. Though you are still unsteady on your feet, you manage to stay upright. Then to your surprise, Hangman pulls out one of his knives from earlier and cuts the rope binding your hands. Your arms ache from being held in the same position for so long and your wrists are rubbed raw from the rope burns, but it is still a relief to be free once more. You immediately shove your numb hands under your armpits in an attempt to get some feeling back to them, but you can already tell it won’t do much good. The rest of your body is too cold to provide much relief.

Grabbing your elbow, Hangman leads you over to where Rooster is standing next to a pile of supplies in the middle of the clearing. He positions you so you are standing facing Rooster and then he goes to stand next to his friend. 

Satisfied everything is set, Rooster says, “It’s time for the game to begin. You have a five-minute head start to get as far away from here as you can. Once your time is up, we start the hunt. The only rules are what I said before: If you find help or civilization before we catch you, then you go free. If one of us finds you before then, the game is over and the winner gets to claim his prize. And your time starts now.” He presses a button on his watch and you hear a soft beep. 

Five minutes. That’s potentially all the time you have left in this world. You know you should take off and try to put as much distance between yourself and this place as you can, but if these are your last moments of life, you are going to give these two psychos a piece of your mind before you go.

“You two are so pathetic,” you snarl. “You see yourselves as these great hunters and killers but you’re shooting fish in a barrel and then boasting about your prize. You drug these girls, strip them down, send them off without a way of even trying to protect themselves, and then brag you are mighty warriors when your victims can’t even put up much of a fight. And the only reason you don’t give anyone a real chance is because you know you might actually lose.”

Hangman nervously glances at Rooster as he shifts uncomfortably. Your words have had their intended effect as doubt settles in on him. However, Rooster doesn’t seem the least bit phased. Instead, he smirks at you as his eyes narrow.

“Nice try, but we’re not falling for it. Now, get going while there’s still time on the clock. We want a challenging game but don’t think for one second we won’t kill you right here if you haven’t moved when the timer goes off. We’ve done it before.”

“At least give me my jacket or shoes or pants or something! I’m gonna get frostbite or hypothermia before either of you can catch me, and then where does that leave your game?”

“What did I just tell you? We’re. Not. Falling. For. It,” Rooster growls.

“I don’t know, maybe she’s right.” Rooster turns his glare to Hangman who shrinks back but continues speaking. “I mean, we’ve never done this in the snow or the cold so we might need to adjust slightly. Plus, her lips are already starting to turn blue and she’s shivering really hard. I don’t want this to turn into another environmental death like last time when the girl fell off the cliff or that time in Reno where the girl got bit by the rattlesnake. If she’s gonna die, one of us should get to be the one who does it, not the cold.”

Rooster sighs as he considers this, his hand scrubbing across the short scruff along his jaw. He turns back to stare at the truck for a long time before he finally nods. “Fine. She can have her jacket back. But that’s all.”

Relief floods through you at the thought of any kind of warmth, but your smile fades as Hangman jogs over to the truck and pulls your jacket out of the back seat. You had forgotten which one you wore to work today. 

While it did have the added benefit of being one of the warmer jackets you owned—a thick hooded jacket with fuzzy sherpa lining that falls to the top of your knees and has several pockets to warm your hands in—it was also a light burnt-orange color that will stand out like a beacon amongst both the pure white snow and darkness of the night. Rooster smirks at you and you have a feeling that he didn’t forget about the color. The olive branch he had extended was in fact covered in thorns.

Yet, as soon as Hangman tosses you the jacket, you quickly pull it on, zip it up, flip the hood up over your head, and jam your fists into your pockets. You are still completely bare from your knees down, but at least the coverage from the snow and the warmth you can already feel melting the chill in your upper half is a vast improvement. You just wish you had been given your boots back as well. Your feet have been completely numb from almost the minute they sunk into the deep snow, and the idea of trying to run miles and miles like this terrifies you. 

But what choice do you have?

Glancing at his watch, Rooster says, “You now have…three minutes forty-eight seconds. Time is ticking.”

There’s no point in wasting any more of the time you have left, so you pick a direction and start walking towards the wall of trees at the edge of the clearing. 

When you pass him, Hangman winks at you, runs his tongue over his lips, and whispers, “I’ll be seeing you real soon.” 

At this point, you aren’t really sure which man you are more frightened of tracking you down. But then your mind flashes back to the pure pleasure on Rooster’s face as he talked about watching the light leave your eyes, and you know who you would rather have find you.

As soon as you leave the clearing, you take off into the dark woods as fast as your frozen feet will allow.

Part 3 coming soon!

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As a Stupidist, I’ve found it useful to hold two (harmless and arbitrary) “beliefs”: one that can logically be argued to be true, and one which is both logically and intuitively absurd. These aren’t “beliefs” in the popularly understood sense of the word - certainly not actual philosophical positions to stand and die for! - Rather, think of pictures or sticky notes on one’s desk: reminders of the things or people closest to us.

Take as an example these two beliefs: (1) that technical understanding and mastery of the natural world translate into the ability to project indvidual/community will onto one’s surroundings; and (2) that the Gallic provinces consist entirely of cured pork bits. The second is obviously absurd - Gallia sit omnis divisa in partes tres, but those partes are geographical delineations of land, and land is clearly not made of processed pork. One could make the argument that this land could be, say, traded for barrels of pork; or that, like stardust, all pork eventually decays or is shat out and turned into soil. It may be that in some obscure medieval document, the entire region was declared to be made out of pork! In similar fashion, (1) appears to be self-evident: the development of the arts and sciences allowed e.g. Galileo to espy the moons of Jupiter, or Toby Fox to create Undertale. And yet certain animals and humans can do things effortlessly or instinctually that most people would struggle to do even with  training (consider hunting dogs bred solely for spotting/tracking/retrieving, or savants like Mozart and von Neumann who played with notes/numbers like they were Lego blocks).

I think this disparity handily illustrates the principle of caution: we are meatsacks who default to heuristics and pattern-matching, and it is easy to fall into generalizations or jump to conclusions. Perhaps we missed an angle, or forgot to drop a zero in the calculations - whatever the case, it is prudent to remember that we are but meatsacks, and approach truth-seeking with thoroughness and respect.

As meatsacks, we are inevitably going to mess this up somehow - maybe due to lack of caffeine, or lack of perspective! This brings us to the principle of compassion, which, put reductively, is: we’re trying to do the best we can with the best we’ve got, and as hunks of meat, that’s not a lot. But we can watch each other’s backs and pull each other up, which is a damn lot more useful than pissing on someone for not knowing how to pull themselves out of the mud. The keyword here is “growth mindset”. I’m a huge believer in the “lucky 10,000” concept popularized by Randall Munroe: at any given time, there are about 10,000 people in your continent of choice who aren’t aware of <common thing>. Why ridicule them for not knowing <common thing>, when you could celebrate them being the lucky 1 out of 10,000 to discover it!

And this brings us to the third leg of the Stupidist tripod: curiosity. What queer meatbags we are, that we have gained the ability to look upon our world and comprehend it. And how much there is to comprehend! The great temptation of adulthood is to pick a lane and stay in it; to affiliate oneself with tribal beliefs; to trade the promises of discovery for the secure stasis of prestige. All well and good, until the ever-changing world shifts under our feet, and we are forced to remember how to wonder, how to adapt.

I started out this essay wanting to talk about core conflicting beliefs, and ended up with a primer on Stupidism. I guess that’s just how the ball rolls! Feel free to adopt the conflicting beliefs above, which, since they’re quite lengthy, I’ll sum them up for you:

Knowledge is power.

France is bacon.

Tough love

Lyney: *bandages hands*

Ganyu:Want a rest day tomorrow?

Lyney:Nah. I’ve been through rougher training. Although…this one is certainly awkward.

Yoimiya:*walks by* Hey guys! Oof, looks like someone is having a fun time at Amber’s Archery School. Are you being a diligent student?

Lyney:The teacher is out for my life.

Ganyu:She’s giving him the full course treatment.

Lyney:I don’t think she likes me much…

Yoimiya:Nonsense. Amber likes everyone more or less.

Lyney:Both of you tried fighting me when I arrived.

Yoimiya:Pfft, that’s rivalry things. I think you’re pretty neat. Don’t take Amber’s intensity to heart. She was brutal with me too.

Ganyu:I didn’t have to do every practice like you did but she certainly didn’t hold back.

Lyney:Really? The three of you seem pretty relaxed all the time.

Yoimiya:Amber has a big heart for her friends. She doesn’t slack off in training archers for teams because she knows more than most how important it is to land shots.

Ganyu:Spacial awareness is a huge thing, and any person you work with, Amber already knows their habits extensively. The two of you are remarkably similar.

Lyney:Which means she’s fully prepared to teach me the ins and outs of the job.

Yoimiya:If you’re an archer and responsible for dishing out the most punishment on the team, then missing a shot puts everyone at risk.

Amber:Exactly!

Everyone turns their head to see Amber walking towards them with Bennet.

Amber:I have no hard feelings against you. I just know how chaotic things get when I miss. If someone gets hurt because of it, then it’s on me.

Lyney:I understand that feeling. Guess i jumped to conclusions; sorry.

Amber:No worries. I may or may not have been a little…aggressive at first.

Ganyu:You drew your bow.

Amber:Hehe…anyways, think you keep going?

Lyney:Absolutely. *stands* I’ll become worthy of this leader position.

Amber:Wonderful! Now then, this is Bennett.

Bennett:Hi! It’s an honor to meet you!

Amber:He is likely a little brother to me and is a wonderful teammate! You will be taking down 30 Lawachurls and an assortment of Ruin mechs together. If you need to go to the Statue of the Seven, get knocked out, or let Bennett get knocked out, you fail and have to start over.

Lyney:*dies inside*

Yoimiya:Uuugh, I remember that test…

Ganyu:Hmm? Wasn’t this one of the easier ones? I certainly don’t remember having too many of a hassle. Even Tighnari seemed safe.

Yoimiya and Lyney: (Anyone is safe when they’re shooting a hundred feet away!!)

Amber:Good luck.

Bennett:Let’s do our best!!!

Room & Board - Part 7 - (Tabaeus x Reader)

Anon submitted this prompt: For the prompt submissions a vampire that feels guilty after feeding/attacking someone so they leave obscenely valuable ancient artifacts as payment/an apology?

Part 1 | Previous | Masterlist | Next

x x x x x

Hearing Jemma, your fisted hands instantly release Tabaeus’s trench coat. You push away from the counter, standing straight as you whirl around to see Jemma’s expression. 

Luckily, suspicion and horror are not painted over her face. She looks hugely amused, a ‘knowing’ smirk curling at her lips as she crosses her arms. Something in you balks as she raises an eyebrow and smirks, “So what’s going on here?” 

“Um…” You clear your throat, trying to buy yourself time. It’s not enough, especially under Jemma’s attention. You step to the side, motioning toward Tabaeus on the other side of the counter. For now, carefully telling the truth seems like the best option. “This is Tabaeus. They’re my roommate.” 

“You’re roommates?” Jemma’s eyebrow raises higher, her smirk widening. You both know the joke about two people ‘being roommates. You can literally see the implication playing out in your co-worker’s head. 

“It’s a new development.” you rush to say, raising your hands in an attempt to metaphorically stop her from jumping to conclusions. Not to mention the mortification you’d feel if Jemma inferred that your sick days had been spent with Tabaeus. Not that she would know exactly what happened, but she would assume so much. Heat is already beginning to climb up your cheeks at the unuttered implications.

You decide the best route is diversion. Throwing a dirty glare at Tabaeus, you add, “And they just acquired some sugar gliders. Without asking me.” 

“Oh! I am so sorry,” gasps Tabaeus, turning a solemn expression to you. “I did not think to confer with you first.” 

“Yeah, well, pets are a big thing and expensive.” Mentally, you’ve already ticked off all the costs two exotic pets could cost. A housing fixture, toys, food, finding a vet that treats such pets. Faintly, you wonder if you even need a permit to own sugar gliders. “We don’t even have the right enclosure for them or food. And I don’t even know if we have the space at the apartment.” 

Tabaeus smiles and tilts their head at your last comment. “We are not going to live there for much longer, though!” 

With wide eyes, you give Tabaeus a look, silently pleading for them to shut up. But their attention is once again on the sugar gliders, cooing and wiggling a long finger at them.

“What? You’re moving?” Your co-worker almost sounds hurt and betrayed. 

“Another new development,” you laugh awkwardly as you shoot an apologetic smile at Jemma. Her amusement has drained from her features now. She looks suspiciously between you and Tabaeus. You can only imagine what she’s thinking. That Tabaeus is a sugar daddy or maybe that they’re a bad person and you’ve found yourself in some heinous situation.

Tabaeus continues to dig the hole with painfully cheerful words, “We will be attaining a house soon!” 

Just barely, you fight the urge to throw Tabaeus another dirty look. They seem completely unaware of your frantic anger and worry, too enthralled with the sugar gliders snugly placed in the inner pocket of their coat. You didn’t want to rouse suspicion. At all. But you being able to buy a house, while working minimum wage, was suspicious enough.

You’d been contemplating what excuse to use earlier. Now, you can cross ‘willed the house by a old relative’ excuse off the list. Otherwise, Tabaeus’s exclamation of ‘attaining a house soon’ would be viewed suspiciously. 

“You’re getting a house?” If Jemma’s eyebrows raise any farther up, you think they’ll permanently combine with her hairline. 

“Maybe.” Trying your hardest to make your smile seem natural, you try to distract your inner tension by once again doing menial jobs around the counter. Desperately, you try to land on a plausible excuse, if only to get Jemma’s gaze off you. “I came into some money and poked around the prospect of getting a house. It seems attainable.” 

“You sure? The government likes to tax the shit out of cash gifts. Happened to my sister when our bitchy great aunt left her a savings account,” Jemma asks as she leans against a counter. As an aside, she snorts and venomously adds, “Old hag only left me a roll of toilet paper.”

You can’t help but bitterly think she could drop the subject and find something to do. Anything to get away from the topic of you. But, she’s got three years seniority on you. Instead, you embrace another lie. “Oh, I already looked into that. I’m good!”

“No shit?” Jemma’s gaze flickers from you to Tabaeus, who still seems utterly ignorant of the suspicion wafting off your co-worker. 

“No shit,” you affirm, trying to pump out as much positivity as you can. 

“Huh, well, good for you! Tell you what,” you glance up from refilling ingredients to see Jemma grinning at you. She pushes off the counter she’s been leaning on and takes an empty container from your hands. “Why don’t you take the rest of the evening off?” 

“What?” Despite the fact Jemma has let you off early in the past, you can’t help but hear alarms ringing at the back of your head. Something just feels off, this time. 

“Yeah, it’s been slow and I can handle the rest of the shift.” Jemma nods and nudges you out of the way. It’s true. The last rush of the evening is over and even that had been a rather light occurrence. A glance around the dead food court affirms how dead the area is. Jemma tosses a teasing glance at Tabaeus, her eyebrows raising again. “You got two new roomies to get comfy, don’t ya?” 

You press your lips together, looking out toward the food court and the mall proper. There is a pet store on the upper level and, if you recall correctly, it was having a going-out-of-business sale. As it did every quarter.

“I suppose,” you begin to agree, your lips pursing. The alarms are still ringing in your head, but a little quieter after assessing the situation. “Are you certain you don’t want me to stick around?” 

“Nah, I’ll be fine.” Your co-worker has turned her full attention to refilling stock, not even sparing you a glance. She waves a dismissive hand at you.

Unable to push it any further, you nod and smile, “Alright, thanks, Jemma.” 

“Yeah, yeah, don’t mention it,” she laughs as you turn toward the backroom, hands behind your back undoing your apron. You freeze as Jemma’s taunting tone returns, her words leaving your insides squirming, “Have fun, you crazy lovebirds.” 

“We’re not together!” It was all you could say as you duck into the back, your face flushing hot. Jemma’s laughter follows you to the back, where you finally untangle your apron and hang it up. You gather your things and swipe your badge, going slow just in case a sudden rush came up. But, to your luck, no one seems interested in Jollies or sweets tonight. 

As you leave the back exit, shoving your work cap and badge into your bag, Tabaeus surprises you at the door. 

“Hello,” they smile down at you, their hands in their pockets. You glance at the spot where their inner pocket resides, though you don’t see a writhing lump of rodentia. For the most part, the sugar gliders seem rather calm, at least. 

Casting a suspicious look up at Tabaeus - recalling how they had ensorceled the annoying customer from earlier - you ask, “How’d you know I was coming out?” 

“Oh, I overheard you and your colleague.” You were close to chiding Tabaeus about eavesdropping, before they added, “She also spoke to me a bit while you were preparing to leave.” 

Instantly, the alarms came back. You narrow your eyes, weighing the options between Jemma ribbing Tabaeus in a friendly way or something a little more worrisome. Grabbing them by the wrist, you led them further down the hall. The thought of leaving the hall, close to the counter of Milk King Lemon Jollies and Jemma’s attention, makes something in you shrivel. 

Instead, you lead Tabaeus toward a barely used stairwell. Even though it’s unlikely someone will overhear, you pitch your voice low, “What did she say?” 

“Nothing much,” the vampire gives a shrug. You can feel their gaze tilted toward where your hand grasps their wrist and it makes a tingling, hot sensation creep up your arm. “She said I was not the sort you usually ‘go for’ - whatever that means - and to treat you well. That is about it.” 

You give an uncertain hum, but decide to drop it. Jemma’s presence always had a habit of making you a little too sensitive. Her near-constant jokey teasing and taunting had been hard to get accustomed to. Especially in the beginning.

“I must confess,” Tabaeus begins, causing you to pause on the empty landing between sets of stairs. You turn, looking up at them curious. “I fear I did overuse my abilities.” 

Sensing where this is going, you roll your eyes and drily laugh, “Oh, really?” 

“Yes. A snack may help.” Tabaeus smiles, their voice dipping gently to a bashful softness. 

Realizing you’re still holding their wrist - due to how the heat moving up your arm worsens - your fingers instantly snap open. Tabaeus startles at the sudden release. You try to ignore the disappointment that dances across their face, instead latching onto incredulity. “Seriously? We’re at the mall!” 

“I suppose I can carry on,” Tabaeus sighs, shrugging helplessly. Again, that soft smile pulls across their lips. It’s earnest and sincere and soft. The same smile they’ve been giving you since you met and over the course of your sick days. But you still can’t help wondering how sincere and sweet it truly is. “I just would hate to fall into a swoon. Leaving you to carry not just myself, but also Bjarka and Liuva too.”

For a second, confusion cools the heat of your uncertainty. “Bjarka and Liuva?” 

Tabaeus gently patted at a spot a little below their chest, where the sugar gliders lay.

Your lips twist into a puckered frown, as your eyes slip from their hand up to Tabaeus’s face. They return your dry look with one of placid innocence. The curious question of just how conniving the vampire is still rings in your thoughts. But a small part of you worries about having an unconscious vampire on your hands. Or worse, a starved vampire.

It’s doubtful Tabaeus would go blood-hungry, like that first night. But you also don’t want to risk them taking too much at the next feeding. Over the course of your sick days, the two of you even managed a good balance. 

As Tabaeus waits, you realize how dim the lights are in the stairwell. The air is a little mustier than the rest of the mall. In the corner, a forgotten styrofoam cup sits. The logo on it is from an event hosted months ago. 

No one will stumble on the two of you. And if they do, the stairwell is the perfect excuse for making out. Thinking that very thought makes Jemma's face, with suggestive grin and raised eyebrows, flash through your head. 

“Fine,” you sigh, trying to ignore how Tabaeus’s very body language brightens. They take a step closer to you, boxing you into a corner of the stairwell. Their hands grasp at your hips, long fingers strong enough to keep you in place. Quickly, as they stoop over you, you raise a hand to their lips. “Wait.” 

Tabaeus watches you carefully, hungrily, as you lean your head and expose your neck to them. You pull at the neckline of your work shirt, baring most of your shoulder to them. Your heart thrums under their gaze. A blush creeps over your cheeks, worsening as your words come out breathy and soft. “Remember, keep the marks somewhere not so obvious.”

The two of you have already discussed this facet of feeding, though you’ve had yet to experiment with novel places. Whenever you think of it, your imagination brings up the thought of Tabaeus between your legs, biting into the flesh of your thigh and your pulse jumps. Then the heat worsens when you think of how Tabaeus might know of that thought, from the other times they’ve sucked your blood.

If they can see what route your thoughts have gone down, or the flush starting to burn at your cheeks, they make no indication. Their lips graze over your shoulder, not exactly cold but not bodily warm. Against your skin, you feel their lips twitch into a smile as their breath ghosts over you, “Of course, amata trinkaĵo.”

Not quite sure when, your hands have found their way to Tabaeus’s chest, beneath their trench coat. As the familiar prick of their fangs pierce your skin, your fingers dig into and bunch the fabric of their top. Your heart pounds, the far-off sound of mall patrons seeming louder than before. 

Your eyes wrench shut, imagining being found like this with Tabaeus. Their stooped form and their face against your shoulder, your little half-gasps heard by a stranger. It would look like nothing more than a salacious make-out session, wouldn’t it? 

That thought makes heat sink into your core and through your body. You faintly wonder if Tabaeus can taste your blood heating up or if they know what you’re thinking. That thought just intensifies the warmth. 

Tabaeus leans closer, their coat curtaining you in its folds. One of their hands skirts up your side, following the curvatures of your body through the fabric of your shirt. They tug at your shirt, freeing it from the pant waistband it had been tucked into. 

Their fingers on your flesh make you inhale sharply. Your back arches at their touch, something a little more intense than a half-gasp leaving your lips. Their fingernails shift slightly into the sharper claws you remember from that first night, the sharp tips grazing your soft skin. 

Your eyes snap open, realizing just how ragged your breathing has become and how, at the corner of your thoughts, you’re seeing the faintest of strange images, foreign memories. With a struggle, you gather your wits and mumble, “T-Tabaeus, that’s enough.” 

The sound of your voice stills their drinking, but your stomach drops when they don’t pull away immediately. One of Tabaeus’s hands has slid to your lower back, the other returns to your hip. A vibration coils out of their chest. Low and rumbly, they growl, “I want more.” 

“No, you only said a snack,” you say, your words caught between distressed and desire. You half-think Tabaeus means something other than blood. But you don’t want to think about that. Not when your heart is thrumming and your body is twinging and your head swims. Especially not when you’re both at the mall, you add to yourself, when you catch a staticky announcement playing over the building’s sound system.

“You are correct,” Tabaeus finally sighs, after a moment of silence. Their tongue takes one last swipe at the blood pooling on your skin, before pulling away. Without them so close, without their coat keeping in the heat, you suddenly feel cold.

As you get your bearings, you stare up at Tabaeus, watching as their tongue flicks over their lips. “I might regret this, but what does amata trinkaĵo mean?”

Tabaeus pauses, a flash of awkwardness creasing their features. With a cringy sort of smile, they glance down at you. “You caught that?” 

“Yes.” Your eyes narrow, suddenly wondering if this was about to be a sango sako moment all over again. 

Tabaeus abruptly turns away from you, taking the steps two at a time now. To their credit, even as they retreat, they answer, “Trinkaĵo means drink. You’re my favorite drink.” 

“Excuse me?” You gape after the fleeing vampire, their footsteps pounding up the stairs. Your own footfalls soon follow suit, with a bit more oomph than theirs.

Tabaeus gets to the landing before you and they look around the large corridor of the mall, their hand shielding their eyes theatrically. With an exaggerated motion of their hand, they point to your destination and loudly say, “Oh, is that the animal supply store? Better get there before they close.” 

They’re already halfway to the store by the time your feet hit the landing. You glare after them, lips pressed tightly. It takes you a second to follow after them. Your pride still burns at being called a favorite drink. Like you’re nothing more than a soda fountain for the vampire. 

But you follow Tabaeus into the pet store, reminding yourself bitterly that this visit is all because of them, as well. They just had to take a pair of sugar gliders from someone on the subway. You shake your head, heaving a sigh. Stepping into the store, you easily find Tabaeus, already assessing a number of enclosures.

You fall into place beside them, but as your shoulder mildly throbs, you half-regret letting Tabaeus bum a snack off you. 

Part of you can’t quite discern what the other half is feeling, though. And that worries you.

Dagon: A study of cosmic terror

HP Lovecraft's Dagon is a 1919 short story that is a delve into Cosmic horror and one of the earliest works of what would become the Lovecraft Mythos.

Dagon focuses on a sailor during the Great War who's ship is sunk in the pacific by a German U-boat. The protagonist survives in a lifeboat as the Germans strand him at sea. Drifting about at sea, The unnamed protagonist finds himself in strange black waters whilst also starting to experience strange dreams and visions. Not long after, the protagonist found himself on a strange island, described by Lovecraft as, “So great was the extent of the new land which had risen beneath me, that I could not detect the faintest noise of the surging ocean, strain my ears as I might. Nor were there any sea-fowl to prey upon the dead things.” The protagonist begins to trek across the island where he encounters a strange towering monolith. The protagonist comes to realize that despite how massive the monolith is that it was built by something, He also describes the monolith in some details such as: “The writing was in a system of hieroglyphics unknown to me, and unlike anything I had ever seen in books,” and as “It was the pictorial carving, however, that did most to hold me spellbound. Plainly visible across the intervening water on account of their enormous size, were an array of bas-reliefs whose subjects would have excited the envy of a Doré.”(Dagon, Lovecraft) The narrator also describes the beings depicted as fish-men and did not go into further detail. Eventually, the Protagonist encounters one of the monsters depicted on the monolith, describing it as “Vast, Polyphemus-like, and loathsome, it darted like a stupendous monster of nightmares to the monolith, about which it flung its gigantic scaly arms, the while it bowed its hideous head and gave vent to certain measured sounds.” At this point the protagonist flees and remembers nothing else until he wakes up in a hospital in San Francisco, making minor inquiries particularly about the ancient god Dagon though is overall fruitless. The story ends with the Protagonist being attacked in his home.

Dagon is a high quality story that focuses on ambient terror and the fear that comes from encountering unknown beings that you can’t explain. Lovecraft describes much of what we see though makes it clear that what both we and the characters in the story are encountering are things that are beyond our comprehension. Such prose and concepts are a hallmark of both Lovecraft’s writing and the Lovecraft Mythos. For those into ambient horror with little answers, Dagon is a great starter story as much of the hesitation and unease builds from the background. There’s not really any jump scares in the story until the conclusion, instead focusing on building uneasiness such as by describing the environment and the alien writing on the monolith making it known that whilst the monolith says something, it’s not human nor is it meant to be read by humans, putting the protagonist and by extension humanity into an alien world. Lovecraft also makes excellent use of scale to create tension, both the monolith and the creature are described as colossal as the monolith is surrounded by a huge and deep pit and the creature is described as "Polympheus-like” (Dagon, Lovecraft)as an allusion to the cyclops of the Odyssey.This scale adds to the terror as it represents humanity’s place in the grand scale of the universe, just as animals such as ants are insignificant to humanity, so are we to the creatures and the universe with which we live in. The lack of any true explanation and context also plays into this sense of cosmic terror that the protagonist and the reader are exposed to as we are left with clues to interpret and speculate what we are dealing with and it works in this story as one of the central themes of Cosmic horror is the incomprehensibility of the universe around us. 

Works Cited

Lovecraft, Howard  Phillips. “Dagon.” “Dagon” by H. P. Lovecraft, 20 Aug. 2009, www.hplovecraft.com/writings/texts/fiction/d.aspx. 

"Dagon" by H. P. Lovecraft (hplovecraft.com)

Lilyi's emergence from the sea put the whole world into full blown paranoia. We thought the terror was over after the fall of the leviathan, but it seemed that the deep still held its secrets. Everyone had been so focused on Melalo, that they didn't bother to look anywhere else. After an entire city was swallowed by Lilyi's slime, no one was taking any chances. The oceans were packed with sensors, subs and sonar, ready to detect the slightest hint of trouble. No country wanted to be caught off guard like that again, as we all saw the price of it. We would have our eyes and ears everywhere, and our guns close by. Though the slaying of the titan and the attempts on the two kaiju cost a lot of resources, humanity showed our frighteningly quick ability to pump out even more weapons of war. Everyone scurried to stock up munitions and have all their war machines locked and loaded. The second another beast reared its head, we would blow it clean off. Though we had wished these preparations had been for naught, that the two would be last of the terrors, our efforts proved successful. Upon another coastline, opposite of where the beast perished, sounds of something big could be heard. It was moving towards land, and we knew what that meant. Thankfully, it appeared to move at a slow pace, giving the country's forces enough time to mobilize and gather round. We could see where it would make landfall, save for a severe change of course, and had armed this stretch of coastline to the teeth. When it emerged, we would unleash hell upon it. Submarines were already taking shots at it with torpedoes, hopefully weakening it before the big event. These attacks also made sure it stayed its course, so that it would bumble right into our kill zone. The first thing to rise from the waters was a jagged spire, and we almost jumped the gun. Everyone was so nervous, that we nearly unloaded everything into that simple spine. Command was quick to regain control and keep our troops in line, as we could not afford to waste our shots on anything save for vital organs. Eyes, orifices, joints and torso was what we were looking for, weak points that would slow the beast and leave it open to our attacks. When the kaiju fully emerged from the ocean, showing its true form, we were all speechless and confused as hell. The sudden question was: what the hell do we shoot?   The kaiju that would eventually earn the title of "Tculo" was nothing more than a hardened ball of spikes. A giant sphere of holes and spines, almost looking as if it was carved of solid stone. It awkwardly rolled onto land, its twisted, broken spires gouging huge trenches in the earth. Our orders to target weak points left us befuddled for a moment, as what was there to even hit? Eventually the conclusion was the rounded body, as that had to be where all the vital parts lie. The order was given, and the combined forces unleashed everything we had against the bizarre beast. Missiles, shells and mortars pounded and blasted away at the beast, looking to obliterate it before it even realized it was in danger. Hope swelled in our hearts when we saw spikes snap off and the shell crack under the assault. Soon we would expose its vulnerable core and finish it off. Then the wretched thing started to rumble. From the openings, we could see some gelatinous substance quiver and quake, perhaps in fear. Then suddenly a low droning sound came from the goop, sending vibrations through the whole area. Everyone prepared for some kind of sonic attack, perhaps a weaponized quake. But these vibrations did little to our tanks and aircraft, instead it was focused on itself. From our assault, numerous shards of the creature's shell and spikes had fallen off, littering the battlefield. This debris was paid no mind, until it started to feel these vibrations. When the droning struck these shards, they rattled and shook like an out control paint mixer. Just as we took notice of this reaction, they exploded. Suddenly these lost pieces became deadly shrapnel, spraying far across the battlefield and shredding everything in its path. They fragmented into the tiniest slivers, and each of these pieces sliced through flesh and metal like butter. A chunk of our ground forces fell silent and still, as the soldiers and operators were torn to pieces. Tanks ceased firing, as the people inside them were reduced to bloody ribbons. In a moment, the one sided assault was now turning into a losing battle.

Tculo did not wait long after the first explosion, as a portion of its shell opened up and revealed more of its horrid innards. What slithered out were gelatinous tendrils, seemingly made more of slime than flesh and blood. These spiny tentacles hummed and throbbed with that drone, and started lashing out at the remaining forces. Some stuck with merely swatting planes out of the air, or crushing ground troops under its gooey weight. Others started throwing forth more spines and pieces, using their hum to detonate them. Chunks were tossed up into the air, so that their spraying shrapnel could pierce through our jets and copters. Though these explosives were obvious to see, the resulting spines were impossible to avoid. It only took a single sliver to punch a hole through a plane, and that was often enough to doom it. Despite the agility and skill of the pilots, our aircraft started to fall from the sky as fuel lines, electronics and engines were turned into pin cushions. A single shard tore through everything, and that sometimes included the pilots themselves. As our forces scrambled to escape these tendrils and spiny bombs, Tculo took advantage of our waning firepower. The damage to the spines and shell started heal up, erasing our efforts in minutes. Even when our missiles made it into that gooey center mass, the resulting detonation did nothing but spray some crimson goop. Tculo hardly seemed bothered by it. It just generated more of these horrible shards and used its tendrils to direct its hum towards perfectly placed spike bombs, shredding more and more of our forces. Within the hour of our assault, we were in full retreat. Our weapons were failing to do real damage against the regenerative shell, and its terrible spines were tearing through us like paper.    

As we fled, we swore we wouldn't let Tculo get the last laugh. With more knowledge on our foe, we figured we could get together a new strategy and best this titan. Surely we had the right tools and weapons to take down this beast, we just had to know how to use them. It never happened. That first skirmish with Tculo remained the only interaction with the entity for a long time. The horrible loss caused many to lose faith in our plans and tactics, and the unity that came from taking down the leviathan was starting to fracture. Countries started to focus on their own survival, unwilling to give up anymore resources that they could use to keep their borders safe. This was three times now that we failed to stop these kaiju, so why would they waste anymore on this failed venture? It wasn't a full blown collapse at this point, but the cracks were starting to show. This doubt and debate caused delays in dealing with Tculo, and more observation of the creature caused more folk to question our "solutions." During all this, Tculo just rolled themself across the land, with no real path or plan in sight. Sometimes it would use its tendrils to drag itself, but still the direction was aimless. Each journey saw its spiny shell shredding the landscape, and any town it happened to bowl over. With no real weakness of Tculo determined yet, it was almost useless to try and stop them. All we could do was evacuate, and hope that some buildings still remained after the entity was gone. Unfortunately, we soon found out that the danger Tculo possessed was not just in their presence. What was left in their wake proved to be almost as deadly, as the landscape was littered with shards and slivers of its shell. With no drumming song, they would not detonate, but that wasn't their only purpose. This material proved to be impossibly sharp, naturally creating a super fine edge that could slice deep with little pressure. Stepping on a fallen piece was enough to cause these shattered blades to cut right through your boot and into your foot. You couldn't pick one up without the strongest of gloves, or else it would bite into your fingers and palm. These cuts were nasty, but that wasn't the worst of it. This razor material was seemingly had a poisonous property, which seeped into every cut and nick. Even the smallest wound led to some horrible infection, as these toxic shards leeched into the bloodstream. The site of the injury would turn black and crusty, while the veins throbbed and darkened. Small cuts would not lead to death, but it would cause misery for weeks and scars that would last a life time. Those that really sliced up an arm or a leg would probably have to have these limbs amputated, as the infection would threaten to spread to the whole body. With this threat realized, it soon dawned upon us that the Tculo's travels were leaving minefields in its wake. The land would be filled with these shards, and we had no way to properly clean them up. You couldn't get enough people together to scour every inch of the area to collect every piece. Heavy duty operations could possibly break these pieces and make it an even bigger nightmare to clean up. It certainly gave us plenty of samples to study, with the hope of unlocking its secrets and finding an exploit. However, it also raised the question of what would happen if we shattered Tculo's armor and finally killed it. The land where it perished would have to be abandoned, as it would be a wasteland of toxic blades. A troubling thought, but one we should only bother with once we actually figure out how to kill it. So far, we got nothing.     It unfortunately was not until much later when we discovered the source of these mutations: the flesh and blood of the fallen leviathan. Those who fed on or had contact with these substances usually sickened and died, but a rare few had this horrid reaction. The problem was that we had already started demolition on the carcass, spraying mutative juices and pieces everywhere. Not to mention the battle from sea to land that fell this beast, which dumped blood into the ocean and onto the streets. We found that Melalo and Lilyi were scavengers that mutated after feeding on this carcass, but Tculo's origin showed something more terrifying. They had been no simple beast before, instead it appeared that they came from phytoplankton. Researchers guess that they may have been a kind of Coccolithophore, but it is difficult, if not impossible, to truly confirm. The terrifying thing, though, is that phytoplankton are not scavengers, they get their energy through photosynthesis. That means that this organism didn't even eat the pieces of the leviathan to undergo the mutation, they were merely exposed to the bloody waters. Add to the fact that it was this small speck that wound up becoming a titan, and you see the cataclysmic implications. The land and surrounding sea have been infected, and who knows how many organisms have been exposed. How many of them will mutate? How many will die? Of the many that perish, what will feed on them? Bio-accumulation is already a serious problem when it comes to pollutants, but what of this unknown mutagen? It is in the plankton, in the fish and who knows what else? With all the time that has passed before we realized this horrible consequence, how far has this spread? By destroying the carcass and slowly hauling off the pieces, we thought we would be able to contain this outbreak. What we have found here, is that it is not so easy. In fact, it may be already too late. ------------------------------------------------- Certainly one of the weirder ones out of the bunch!

Some mdzs spoilers

No good deed goes unpunished seems to be one of the major themes in all the MXTX stories. Really a master at making you question the meaning of morality because everyone's sure they've figured it out but I ain't got no clue what being good even means at this point anymore.

Back when Mo Dao Zu Shi only had a season one, I would ponder over and over on the Jiang clan incident and my final conclusion is that Wei Wuxian sincerely did nothing wrong. Why did he get punished for saving a life? Why was it a bad thing to protect someone? Why did it become something that he might think back on with hesitation? Everyone seemed to pay for doing something kind. Wei Wuxian's biggest fatal flaw turned out to be that he can't watch people suffer. He will always step up and defend them. In anime, this is usually a good thing. This is where the power of friendship starts. Instead of having an army ready to rally behind him no matter what the foe, he instead amassed a society of enemies who would do anything to tear him down. They hated him, they feared him, they had no reason to. He would never go out of his way to hurt anyone. Yet they kept hurting his family, making him doubt his good deeds. Why was helping people wrong? It didn't make sense, and is a huge part of his tragedy.

It wasn't even unique to him!

Xiao Xingchen saved a life - a good deed! Guess what? He died for doing that. He saved the wrong life. But it's not like the wrong life has "wrong life" plastered on his forehead!

Lan Xichen trusted his best friend. I don't care what anyone says. People are always complaining that people in movies believe any shit about their supposedly closest friend way too fast. Lan Xichen stood by his friend, that wasn't something wrong. It wasn't like said best friend was killing people in front of him. Jin Guangyao did everything in his power to keep Lan Xichen in the dark. He was not a bad person for trusting and loving his best friend, and it is NOT his fault that his best friend turned out to be trash. He did not make Jin Guangyao into who he is. He got used, and he's the one living with regret simply because he's the one who lived and because he's nice like that. The only thing stopping him from Xiao Xingchen-ing his life is the duty and responsibility he has to his brother (Not his clan. Fuck his clan. They didn't do shit for his life).

And it just kept happening. Jiang Cheng saved Wei Wuxian and paid for it. Wei Wuxian saved Jiang Cheng and paid for it. Jiang Yanli tried to save her family and paid for it, so did her husband. There were people paying for their crimes but there were way more people paying for their good deeds. It's like MXTX was trying to say "The world ain't nice like that. Just pray that you're lucky or you will pay with your life." Nie Mingjue showed mercy and died for it.

And it's not unique to mdzs. I haven't gotten far with the other stories (No spoilers I'm begging you. On my knees and EVERYTHING). But so far, it's not looking good.

Xie Lian stood up for what he believed in when he chose to defend his kingdom and wowee did he pay for it. His entire life was wrecked for it. He got punishment that I think was way too much because wtf? He was 17. They could have done him a favour and just not make him a diety if this is the life they hand to him.

In SVSSS Donghua, no one in particular is paying for their good deeds just yet. SQQ did get a sting jumping in to protect Binghe. Now he's got poisoned for someone with plot armour. (SVSSS will never fail to crack me up. I'm glad MXTX wrote that story. Even if I know the depression is incoming. It's nice to have something to laugh about after all the pain and agony. How did her angst skills get even more intense? Heaven's Official Blessing is the latest book? That story is land mined with pain!!!!)

The monsoon of Alik'r Desert sweeps tropical winds through an empty stratosphere, Magnus' radiance settling across the horizon. Warm shifts destabilised the air with moisture and dust unfolding into pulsing, dry, storms. Two friends sat upon the crest of a dune, side by side, watching the clouds open in burning malevolence.

"Lightning is so cool," Vatyr sighed, dreamily. "but it fills me with some sorta primordial dread."

"Yeah, well, it ain't really something to be tamed you know" replied Radac, his mind stirring back to his sibling's studies towards Kargstanz-Bcharn some few thousand years prior. "If you could tame it however you'd need a huge body of water. Oh, and a source of energy too."

Vartyr chimed his genius in, hoping to impress. "Right, right. Like what, 20 mages? All at once just zapping that fucker like, 'PYEOW!'".

The spectre scoffed in response, he had only really just gotten used to his companions boundless creativity. "I was referring to transformers and generators, than a handful of old folk employed to strike some pylon for what, 5 seconds?"

"Each to their own, Radac buddy. I'd make some mad drakes doing basically fuck all 5 seconds a day. Hm!" The Dunmer seemed quite proud of himself.

Just moments after their conclusion were Nirn's sands struck by a bolt, illuminating stretches of land for just a moment. Vartyr jumped at the flash, eyes darting around to re-adjust his focus. Radac didn't even flinch.

"If I could tame lightning, I'd probably just use a leash. Lightning leash. Kinda sexy, hey? Would you get electrocuted by choice?"

The Dwemer was dumbfounded for a good few seconds.

"No."

"Really? That's kind of weak-"

"BUT, I can see why another would. Shut up though, it's getting good." Radac pointed outward with a hazy blue finger, the lightning striking again in a looped pathway miles away from the cloud cell. "Positively charged, that one."

"Yeah that's the one that kills you!" Vartyr joined in pointing at the now fried palm tree.

"Yes! Y'know, you ain't half bad, kid." A gentle hand was placed on the sorcerer's shoulder, Radac giving a genuine nod of approval.

Vartyr beamed, he really liked that.

So, Picturejasper20 asked me to contribute to this, so i'll give my takes for this week.

Day 1. FAVORITE EPISODE

I mean... It's true Colors.

That's like asking what was the best fight in One Piece. There are many good and great ones, but anyone who has watched the series knows there is only one answer.

True Colors was the peak of Amphibia as both a story, but also as a narrative.

I would say that Reunion would be a close second, but Reunion has the problem that though not bad, season 1 simply wasn't overall building to this finale. There was definitely episodes that set it up, but as a finale, it really does come out of nowhere. It's there because it's the final episode, and so it's time for the big gamechanger.

By comparison, True Colors was what the entirety of season 2 was building towards, with every mystery and character interaction between the main trio all being set up to the climax that is true colors.

And thats just the overall narrative.

Because this episode has it all. Great character moments, iconic and memorable scenes, every character involved having completely separate motivations and ambitions, and characters making huge mistakes that are crucial for their developments.

I wish there was a day for favorite moment, as the entire sequence of Sasha's coup is my favorite scene of the series, where what shojld be the pinnacle of all of Sasha's achievements, becoming queen of the land, is all turned to complete and total dust in her mouth when Anne tells her in no uncertain terms that she hates her now.

It's such a powerful scene, that completely and totally uproots Sasha's entire sense of self, and it wouldn't have been anywhere as important if the series hadn't made it very, very clear that for Sasha, her relationship with Anne was EVERYTHING.

You can pinpoint the exact moment where Anne broke Sasha's heart into pieces, and i am very fond of pulling up these two pics whenever i get an excuse to do so.

And that's just one of the great moments of this episode.

The confrontation at the gatehouse, where it's now Sasha who is in the right, as this coup would be infinitely preferable to what Andrias had planned, but rather than logic or arguments, what it all comes down to is That Anne is angry at Sasha from the previous scene in the throneroom, and Sasha's arc of being a bad friend reaching it's logical conclusion as Anne tells her to fuck off.

Then there is the confrontation in the throne room, where pretty much every single line is iconic.

Andrias revelaing himself as the villain, the backstory of Amphibia, Marcy's betrayal laid bare, her subsequent fumbling of trying to justify herself rather than trying to apologize and subsequent rejection, anne deciding to give her friendships another go while admitting to her own faults, Andrias throwing Sprig out the window to make a point to Anne.

Anne's superform, Marcy jumping out the window, andrias halting as he sees she's opened a portal to Earth, Sasha and Grime holding Andrias off, of course...

Marcy getting a sword through her chest, killing her, and setting up her death and ressurrection into Darcy.

And then, having now destroyed the main trio, the season ends on Anne achieving her goal since the series started.

She's finally home. End of part 2.

I have very, VERY mixed feelings about season 3A, and in hindsight, i very much think this third season should have been a full season for each half, but in regards to how it was set up, i have NO complaints.

True colors is as close to a perfect finale i have seen a western show have since since the season finales of Avatar the last airbender.

TEARS OF THE KINGDOM SPOILERS

I just finished the main story aka killed Ganondorf and... my god what a boss fight. The build up felt properly intimidating with the descending into the chasm, seeing the monsters, fighting his summoned army, then the veiny malice (I refuse to call it gloom) all leading into a throne-like malice platform that he was on. Then the fight, he felt STRONG and mighty. When he entered his powered up form and the health bar went all the way to the end of the screen? I out loud said “oh FUCK” like I FELT it. But... the transformation into the dragon felt... rushed? Like I felt like the boss fight needed another phase where he got desperate and tried to bring the cavern down or maybe chased you with a huge burst of malice like how he attacked you in the opener but this time you overcome it? And THEN it would feel like nothing he has is working and he gets desperate. This Ganondorf ESPECIALLY feels like he has too much pride to lose himself in a dragon form so quickly. But the dragon fight? Yes it’s kinda a glorified cutscene where I didn’t feel in danger but holy fuck! How can you not feel a rush of pure JOY AND ADRENALINE as you’re riding a dragon circling another and jumping off to attack it? It feels AMAZING, cinematic, and truly an epic conclusion. However... I’m really felt like I know nothing about Ganondorf. He’s just kinda... an asshole. An evil for evils sake kinda guy and that’s... just not good enough anymore. If he wasn’t so intimidating and smart it really would feel like a spoiled tantrum. “I WANT Hyrule, I want it! I want it now!!” as he stomps his feet. Ganondorf feels smart, manipulative, and strong but.. What about his motivations? Why does he want Hyrule? In OoT he was bare bones evil too but they mention a civil war. That’s motivation! Ganondorf lost a civil war so this usurping is his finding a new way to win! In WW he is a man tied to the past, he desperately wants to cling to something, they even imply jealousy that he was living in a dead desert while Hyrule enjoyed an abundant rich land! In this all we get is... “I want Hyrule because I do.” It’s not really that hard to give the man motivation. In his fake swearing of allegiance to Rauru maybe have it be personal? Like he’s jealous of Rauru’s power, his success, or anything? Maybe he feels threatened by the rising of a powerful neighboring kingdom? The Zonai were described as having powers so great people mistook them for gods, through Demise’s curse Ganondorf hates the gods, perhaps he feels the need to challenge Rauru because of that? It would also make it more personal with Link since Rauru gifted him powers, put his faith in Link, etc? All in all Ganondorf feels very half baked, he doesn’t feel like a character just a boss and that’s sad. With how they fleshed out Zelda and Link’s characters and so so so many other cool and fun characters Ganondorf falls by the wayside... Also this is a tangent but what about the Gerudo? I feel like the old Sage should have said something more about them defecting. Like we really don’t know why they went against him, they just did after he became demon king. I feel like a line like “We were ready to serve the Demon King but he sent monsters even after us. We then knew he was too far gone, and what we had to do.” would have gone a long way. They were loyal to him, willing to attack Hyrule but then when he got the stone suddenly they were on Hyrule’s side, explain story explain!!!

“—animal attacks were just the beginning! They say the beast is responsible for the townsfolk that have gone missing and that it hails from the Weissowen Woods, coming out only at night under the looming moon, ravenous and insatiable.” “Aye, and they say the beast walks upright, like a man. Lord Drusell’s man servant’s sister’s son was one of the hunters who found the tracks leading from Irkshire Farms to the edge of the woods. ‘Tis curious, though, for amongst the beast’s prints were those of a man’s. No body was found, however, just tufts of matted, blood-soaked fur.” Murmurs began to rise above the din, the spread of panic seemingly imminent. Sighing, her hopes of avoiding the topic of the beast fading with each new voice piping up, she made her way to a particularly animated group of guests and putting on her most rehearsed and reassuring smile, she interrupted them.

“Do not let speculation and fear take over. ‘Tis true, we deal with an unknown creature, one that uses the night to its advantage, but we must remain vigilant and united in our attempts to capture whatever it may be and hand out swift justice. Be it animal or beast we have nay laid eyes upon before, surely it bleeds just as you and I and can be killed.” “But Your Majesty, the fact that no one has ever laid eyes upon it is a huge advantage to the beast. We know not what we seek to safely hunt during daylight hours and to hunt for the beast at night while it prowls is fraught with peril. Too many villagers have already gone missing and who does that leave next for the beast but us, Weissowen high society. We shall not be safe from its clutches!” “We are not safe even here at the castle! It will come and rip us to shreds!”

A cacophony of gasps rang out amongst the group, and she watched as one of the guests even fainted. Pursuing her lips together at the escalating situation, she took a step forward and clapped her hands for their attention before raising them in the air, something she often did when her children were bordering on hysteria. “First, I value the lives of all Weissowen’s citizens, class and station be damned, as I do the lives of myself and the royal family. I would not have invited any guest if I thought for a moment they would not be safe within the confines of the palace. Second, let us not jump to conclusions. The only victims we have are animal and although that is disturbing and unsettling, it is not alarming per se. We also do not know if there is a true correlation between the missing and the beast. No bodies have surfaced that match those of the livestock slayings. I am optimistic when I say this is a situation we will have control over quickly.”

“And as for safety, you are here under the protection of Her Highness and the Royal Guard,” Dionysus added, stepping up from behind her, his hand crossing the curve of her hip to rest securely on the small of her back. “There is no safer place in all the land than at this very castle. The Royal Guard has and will always come to the defense of Our Queen and the people of Weissowen, be it from foreign invaders, domestic threats or any beast, real or exaggerated. As we speak, at Her Highness’s behest, we are assembling a hunting party to search for the creature’s lair. If there are any amongst us with credible information, do not be afeared to speak up. We welcome all helpful theories and any aid offered by experienced trackers.”

A swell of pride overcame her as she watched Dionysus address the court, his authoritative tone causing something deep within her to stir. Catching his attention, her eyes ablaze, she bit her bottom lip and watched his breath catch. A smirk tugged at the corners of her mouth at his reaction and unable to help it, indecent images of him touching and taking control of her filled her mind and caused her to instantly flush, her body tingling from head to toe. Clearing her throat, fighting the urge to lay her hands on him, she pulled her gaze away and looking back to the audience before them caught sight of Merek suddenly appearing opposite them but within earshot, speaking to a group consisting of only female guests who promptly fawned over him until he caught sight of her. In a blink of an eye, the look on his face transformed into one of longing, and she watched as he even took a step toward her, clearly no longer listening to the conversation around him.

Chewing her lip, she glanced back and forth between both men, feeling incredibly torn, when an idea suddenly struck her. Turning back to her subjects, a wide grin playing on her features, she, with as much seriousness as she could muster, spoke. “Aye, as the Knight Commander has stated, we are welcoming of all aid in the capture of this beast, whatever it may truly end up being. And in the spirit of such, I have decided that the Royal Guard will work in tandem with Sir Merek, who has proven himself very capable and competent on more than one occasion. Between the Knight Commander, Sir Merek and the Royal Guard, I have the utmost faith we will be victorious in our efforts to snuff out the beast.”

The moment the words left her mouth it was as if the air shifted and the bustling activity in the entire room came to a halt, a collected hush coming over the crowd as she looked from Dionysus to Merek who was staring at her now with a mixture of confusion and bewilderment. Pleased with herself, she watched as he shook his head and flashed her his usual sly grin, his brows arching up at her presumptuous proclamation. Turning her gaze back to Dionysus, her own brow rising expectantly at his response, he coughed and nodded, bringing up a hand to rub the back of his neck, something he usually did when he was pensive. Searching the crowd and not having to look far, Dionysus spied Merek hovering, gazing at Andraste as if she were a prize to be won, and a rush of jealous ire threatened to overcome him. “Aye, Your Majesty. The Royal Guard welcomes Sir Merek into their ranks if only until the beast is flushed out. I am sure his skills will prove most… invaluable,” Dionysus snickered, his mask enough to hide the displeasure on his face but not enough to disguise the irritation in his voice.

Sensing she was pushing his buttons but still immensely pleased with her solution, she nodded and dropped the subject, turning back to her audience. “Splendid! Now that that is settled, let us enjoy the festivities! The night is young, and there is still excitement to be had. ‘Tis but once that the Crowned Princess comes of the age where she will assume political responsibility and put forth into action new policies. But all of that can wait until the ‘morrow. Come, let us merry-make! Refreshments are called for.” Stopping a passing servant, requesting they fetch more wine from the cellar, she turned back to the guests before her who now freely spoke amongst themselves, some still reluctant to shirk the topic of the beast, speaking in hushed tones. “Your Highness, Andraste...,” Dionysus said, stepping close to her, his hand coming up to hold her at the elbow, his tone low and laced with urgency and concern, “might I speak with thee for a moment?”

BEGINNING ✦ PREVIOUS

Hey there👋 can I get a BoB ship please?

I’m 5’4, skinny and pale and freckly, I have reddish brown hair that falls to my shoulders and big brown eyes. I’m a space nerd and I love learning about planets and stars, I have a huge telescope, I also love politics and I’m getting my PhD in political science. I want to work for NASA after that :) I also love playing guitar and singing and I fly planes in my free time when I’m not socializing or volunteering at camp toccoa with my cousin. I’m pretty bubbly, definitely a go-getter and very ambitious. I can easily overthink though and get anxious. I’m an ENTP 3w2 and I know English, Italian, and French :)

Thanks!

IM SO SORRY THIS TOOK ME SO LONG, MY BRAIN JUST KINDA COMBUSTED OVER THE LAST WEEK AND IDK WHAT HAPPENED

I ship with with Major Dick Wintersss (ngl you were a tough one to choose for cause i had several men in mind but finally came to the conclusion that Dick was the way to go)

- Now I can just imagine it in my head, you being a like Nixon’s second as an intelligence officer and being placed with easy company, the political science degree kinda gives that vibe. Dick is a bit thrown off when he first sees you, following Nixon around while he shows you the ropes. The man just sees this woman in uniform and is like ‘what?’ but then you glance towards him cause you can feel him staring and he gets so caught up in staring at your big brown eyes, like wow. 

- You’re a bit like Buck in the way that you probably shouldn’t be as close to the enlisted men as you are, hence why you and Buck kinda become like the troublesome two cause when you’re not together hanging with the men, you’re together with the officers. So let’s just say Dick kinda struggles with this at first because he warns you gently about it before and then proceeds to get a little sulky with you when you just roll your eyes. You then tell him that you aren’t ‘putting yourself in a position to take from the men’ by being friendly and knowing them so you know you can trust them and that they can trust you when and if it comes down to it. Dick earns a lot of respect for you from that comment, coming to realise that your motives aren’t to assert some weird power trip like he may or may not have assumed originally. 

- On d-day, you’re placed on different planes, as you’re with Nixon. You don’t miss the look of longing on his face across the landing strip, if anything you return it and you cast each other reassuring smiles. You don’t land anywhere near your drop-zone and somehow end up near where he drops. You’re the first person he finds and vice versa and you can’t stop the biggest smile from falling over your face, a quiet laugh of relief leaving your lips. He looks and feels extremely relieved to see you but holds himself back from pulling you into the hug he wants to cause he’s never very good at being forward. After that, you slowly pick up more and more stragglers along the way to your meeting point but all the while, you both stand very close to one another, occasionally bumping shoulders. It’s just very reassuring to know you are next to each other through this. Let’s just say, after this, you’re brain is reeling a little cause there is no doubt potential with this man.

- One night in Holland after your second jump, you are outside getting some air while gazing up at the stars. And of course Dick comes to look for you a little concerned as to your location, an idea that made Nixon smirk when he sees the way his friend is acting. He sees you leaning against the side of a building just staring in wonder and while you do that, he’s looking at you with a similar expression. You hear him walking towards you and his hearts starts beating undeniable fast when he can see your big eyes glowing in the moonlight. You spark up a conversation about the different constellations you can see and all the while Dick is listening intently while still just watching your face light up with passion. When you catch him looking at you instead of the stars, you throw a witty line at him about how there must be something wrong with him if he’s looking at anything but the stars and he kinda just does that little smile he does before making it obvious he was turning his attention to the sky. It’s now your turn to stare and when he notices that you aren’t talking anymore he glances at you and mockingly repeats what you’d said to him a minute prior. Where you’d usually reply with more wit or a roll of your eyes, you just continued to stare which worried him a little cause you would usually have something to say, all the while with a grin. You just kinda decide to take a risk when you step towards him and stand nose to nose (or as close as you can with the man’s extreme height). You let him recognise what you are doing before you go any further and he meets you halfway with a gentle kiss and ahhhhh it’s just so cute cause like it’s your first kiss together and it’s under the stars eeee

- This man gets this lowkey sense of pride when he sees you getting in you zone of debating things. He likes to watch as you rip some idiot soldier to shreds with your wit when he said something about you not knowing what you’re doing. You then proceed to list all these small details about things that have been going on in the company recently that no one else had even noticed such as what people were doing at certain points of time, why certain things happened in the middle of a battle and even went as far as to listing all the stupid shit you’d seen this guy do when he thought no one would realise. Dick watches you do this with that small lopsided smirk on his lips, with Nixon smirking himself when he notices his friend staring the way he was.

- He’s very good at picking up the cues you have when you’re anxious, and though at the start of your relationship he isn’t always very good at knowing exactly how to help, he goes out of his way to learn how very quickly so that if he knows you aren’t feeling great, he can be there in an instant to help

- Many years after the war, you and Dick move into that little farm house he’s always wanted and you spend a lot of your time sitting in the sun playing you guitar and singing and gosh, sitting with you and watching is one of Dick’s favourite things to do. That, along with watching the stars, reminiscing about the first time you’d done that

- Dick likes it when you speak to him in different languages, like sometimes he’ll just randomly ask you how to say a sentence in Italian or French and you’ll blurt it out but then he’ll pretend he didn’t hear you and asks you to repeat it just so he can hear you say it again. IDK what is is man, i know he’d just love it

- You and Dick just work well together, always challenging each other with new ways to spend time together and surprising each other with things. He’s the perfect balance to you with him being a little on the quiet, thoughtful side, while you’re the bubbly, social type. However, you’re both quite ambitious in your own ways and it makes your relationship so much stronger to be able to grow together.