#for once i am looking very disrespectfully sir
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due to the extreme... nandor-ness of the character, 99.9% of the time you kinda forget about the actor underneath it all, and you’re like “yeah, but that’s just our beloved undead brainless himbo” to yourself. and then once in a blue moon you accidentally come by the random shot of kayvan from literally any other thing he has been in, and you’re like “riiiiiiight” to yourself... “that’s our beloved undead brainless himbo”
#wwdits#nandermo#Kayvan Novak#nandor the relentless#Nandor#for once i am looking very disrespectfully sir#it does not work with guillermo though#cause it is impossible to forget about harvey-ness of it all#what's with the tight pants and boots and them stakes#am i simping on main..? indeed it seems like i am
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Next chapter Preview: Eclipse Edition!
In honor of the total solar eclipse today, have this snippet I just finished writing! 😄
**this is still a first draft and you may find typos. But I am open to feedback & suggestions! 🥰
***
Somehow, Kieran winds up at the base of Sir Monty’s favorite tree. On his knees, his heart pounding, staring blankly at the dirt but seeing nothing. Too lost in his own mind and the troubles of his soul.
Give me peace, he begs whatever unseen force rules over life and death. Give me clarity. I must be everything Ella needs me to be.
But there is no divine intervention. Only himself, alone. As it has always been, since the death of his mother.
He would have sought his mother's grave, but the royal mausoleum is buried beneath the rubble of the destroyed Full Moon Chamber.
Instead he has come to Sir Monty’s. The last parental figure he would ever have.
His oldest friend is gone to the tyrant’s side. Whether Oleander has betrayed Kieran or has some plan up their sleeve doesn’t matter. Oleander isn’t here to give any of their sage advice.
Dear Longclaw has her own heavy grief. Even her big heart is weighed down with the loss of not only the last of her beloved family – as abhorrent as Radiance was – but the loss of her own sense of self. It wouldn’t be fair to ask for her help, even if she was currently capable of giving it.
Ella would try to be there for him. But to go to her would be worse than dealing with it alone. Her heartless state is but more evidence of his failure and his guilt.
“Mother,” Kieran gasps aloud without meaning to. A deep-set plea to a woman he had not set eyes upon since he was almost too young to remember and who will never answer his cries again.
The word only opens the wound inside him, digging deeper, ripping open old wounds until they bled anew. His mother is the reason for all of this. Jack is the reason.
As if called by Kieran's very thoughts, he hears soft footsteps in the grass cautiously approach behind him.
“So this is where you ran off to,” Jack muses. His voice is subdued. A hush has fallen over the entire place in the wake of the battle, an aura of death and defeat.
“Leave me,” Kieran growls without turning around.
Instead, the footsteps only come closer. To Kieran's shock and irritation, Jack kneels before the small square of stone at the base of the old, broken oak.
A stone marker had been installed at the base of the tree. Oleander had quietly decided upon the wordering and installed it themselves, after Kieran had irritably snapped at them “I don’t give a damn; do it yourself!”
It was not enough to describe all that Sir Montgomery was in life, but then, no headstone would ever be able to capture the entirety of a man’s soul.
Here Rests the Most Honorable
Sir Montgomery Snow
Who Gave His Mortal Life
In Service to the Moon Court
For a long moment, Jack gazes at the headstone in silence, his expression intense and unreadable. He looks almost angry.
Kieran braces himself to hear Jack say something vicious, and knows he won't be able to hold himself back this time if Jack speaks disrespectfully about Sir Monty before his very grave.
Then, Jack sighs deeply, hands on his thighs, and hangs his head. Kieran peers at him curiously.
“We have both suffered the loss of the most important people in our lives,” Jack says finally. He glances up at Kieran ruefully, his expression for once vulnerable and sincere. “Haven't we?”
Kieran can only glare at him.
Jack looks back toward Monty’s headstone. “I want to say I regret what I've taken from you. But the truth is, if I had not killed Monty, he would have killed me. And I can't apologize for not allowing that to happen. Not honestly. Because I was not just fighting this battle for myself, and I owed it to those people in there that I would let nothing and no one stand in my way. No matter how noble.”
There's a silence where Kieran considers leaping at him at closing his hands over Jack’s throat. But there isn't enough energy in him now. What would be the point?
“But I regret the pain I have caused,” Jack says, in a way that makes Kieran think he's never apologized before in his life and it's physically painful for him. “I know that's foolish. I can't wish the past undone and know I would have changed nothing, all at the same time.”
“You wish it hadn't come to this,” Kieran manages to say, surprised at how rough his voice sounds, how close to tears. He can't even look at Jack.
“Yes.”
Kieran scoffs. “So do I.”
Not that it mattered what any of them wished. Wishes are futile things, even for Fae.
“Nothing I can say will undo the damage I've done. Believe me, I'm well aware,” Jack says bitterly. “But I want to say this anyway: I was wrong about you. I was wrong about so many things that it makes my blood boil to look back on it. About Sir Montgomery and Eisa. About the right way to fight for equality in this realm.”
“You were wrong about Ella,” Kieran reminds him snappishly.
Jack has the gall to look surprised. Then embarrassed. “I…yes.”
Kieran raises his brow expectantly, demanding a better answer than that.
Jack sighs explosively and runs a hand through his hair. “I thought her addled at best, foolishly naive at worst. I thought you were like every other Fae I had ever had the misfortune of meeting, who had dazzled and enthralled an unwitting human into doing your bidding. But…you truly love her, don’t you?”
“With all that I am.” Kieran feels his hands clench into fists. “Ella has the most pure and genuine heart for others I’ve ever known a mortal to have. And a stubborn, inner strength that has never ceased to impress me. She is braver than any Fae I have ever met. That you misjudged her angers me even more than being misjudged. And that she is in my palace right now, heartless, where she should have been safe, angers me more than anything else.”
“You feel like you failed her.” It’s a statement, not a question. Jack gazes at him evenly.
“I did fail her,” Kieran snaps. “She felt she had no choice but to use the Immortality Curse, because this realm is so dangerous for mortals. I didn’t do enough to ensure she felt safe among Fae. I wasn’t able to break her curse, despite my promise that my love would be strong enough to save her. And yes, I ignored the threat of your Eclipse and the suffering you endured, as generations of Moon Court heirs have done before me. I own that mistake as wholly mine. But, Jack - it was your arrogance and prejudice didn’t want to believe Fae lives were in any way worth sparing. You came to kill us without knowing us. Without giving us even a chance.”
Jack’s brow wrinkles. “To be fair, that is exactly how mortals have been treated by Fae for the entirety of history.”
“Doesn’t make it right.”
Jack looks contrite. “No. It doesn’t.”
“I'm glad we can agree on something,” Kieran mutters.
“Perhaps that's why I was too late to save my father,” Jack muses quietly, as if to himself. “His innocent life, spent in payment for my sins. I live now only because you demand it, Kieran - else I would fall on that damned sword as penance. And I will do what I can to help fix this. But some things I can't fix. And for that…I truly am sorry.”
Kieran's eyes fill with tears, hot and angry. He can feel Jack’s gaze on him, and doesn't meet it. His emotions war in such a furious swirling tempest he can't keep track of any of them - he doesn't even try to name them.
What strikes him, though, is how much of Jack's words mirror Kieran's own internal guilt.
An innocent life paid the price of my arrogance.
I would fall on my sword for my failure.
Some things I can't fix.
Kieran senses himself at a fork in the road. He can do what his old self would have done - the bitter, broken, cold version that used viciousness to isolate himself and wallowed in his own misery - and rebuff Jack’s attempt to repent. Jack would live, but they would be forever strangers. Forever estranged.
Or he can be the man Ella always believed him to be. The man Kieran strives to live up to.
Kieran lets out a long sigh. “I can’t forgive you, Jack. Not yet. But I accept your apology. I believe it’s sincerely offered.”
“If nothing else, know that I am a man who means what he says.” Jack’s level gaze doesn’t waver. He shows no sign of discomfort from kneeling so long in the dirt, even though the gashes Kieran had delt to his flank are barely scabbed over. Up close, Kieran can see the disciplined way Jack holds himself. The quiet confidence of a true warrior. This has been his life's sole purpose, and Kieran realizes, just now, how broken Jack must also feel.
“We are two of a kind that way,” Kieran answers quietly.
Jack huffs a short laugh, then grows serious again. “Kieran…for what it’s worth? I’m sorry for what happened to Ella. I hope, one day, she will be restored. And on that day, I will ask her forgiveness as well.” Jack climbs to his feet and idly brushes off his knees. “I think my chances will be better if I wait until then.”
The harsh bark of a laugh that escapes Kieran's throat just then doesn't slow Jack's steps, and soon Kieran is alone again beneath this silent, doomed tree.
His laugh turns into a sob.
His hands claw the grass and hard-packed earth as if he could tear it away. Rip open the grave beneath his feet and demand it all to be different, for fate to change according to his will, for the chance to go back in time and undo his mistakes, to unravel all the terrible things that have happened.
But he’s powerless now, and his hands can no more open a hole to bury himself than they could bring back the dead.
Kieran puts his forehead to the earth in defeat, and lets himself weep like he has not done in a hundred years.
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Hello, my most wonderful Napoleonic family! I strongly apologise for not being so active on 'Tumblr' as far as my personal posts are concerned, but I believe that this is my first piece of serious writing on this particular 'blog'... As far as you know, my love for Emperor Napoleon surpasses all possible words and facts and the Universe combined... I have adored him since I was twelve years old and I can feel his presence every day.
Therefore, once the first official trailer of the "Napoleon" movie was launched, I vowed to our beloved Emperor that I would not go to the cinema to see it. However, when I saw the huge promotional poster of this film at the cinema that is located within the mall where I usually go to buy hay for my bunnies, I began thinking about a different plan.
I was so anxious not to break my initial promise to His Majesty, so I asked him for a sign that could guide me towards the possibility of seeing the movie. So, my Mother came by to pick me up from my French tuition class on Wednesday. It was noon and she told me that all of a sudden, the radio in the car turned itself on and the volume level jumped to the 12th level. She confirmed the fact that she had shut it down after she parked the vehicle. I smiled widely and I told her: 'It was the Emperor! He really wants us to see the movie and write an honest review!". So, my Mommy and I went to the cinema this evening. God Allowed the sun to take a peek outside this afternoon as well, so I knew that He also Told me to go ahead and find my way to the cinema.
Alrighty... *Holding the Emperor's hand tightly*. Here we go... My review is going to be very long and I am going to bash Sir Scotty 'Snotty' a lot, as well as the actors. There will be 'SPOILERS!' 🥸🤯, so if you want to see the movie, you may stop here and read my post after watching it.
First and foremost, the beginning is so ambiguous and grotesque. I mean, who takes pleasure into watching someone get guillotined (it was Marie Antoinette in this case) and treated so disrespectfully after dying? I mean, come on... Scotty could have started the movie with our beloved Napoleone at school, when he came to France for the first time... Grrr... *Facepalm*.
Then, Joaquin... Good Lord... I have nothing against you, my friend, but your portrayal of Emperor Napoleon does not exist. Where is his strong voice, combined with his Napoleonic genius, unique charisma, perfect handsomeness and intense power? I just wanted to see EMPEROR NAPOLEON as if he was there with me, but all that I noticed was a tired figure with a weird Joker laugh and a ton of faint mumbles and erratic moves... That is not my Emperor... He is super brave. And he certainly organizes everyone and gets involved in everything. And Scotty, old bro... What have you done to our Emperor's image? You purposely chopped his magnificent life and superb personality into this flimsy visual magazine that is littered with lies and inaccuracy. You failed miserably by ignoring his golden heart, immense kindness and shining beauty... He is the perfect Emperor who sacrificed everything and this masquerade is more than disappointing. This is a living nightmare.
Oh, and Vanessa... Girl, you may be pretty and talented, but Empress Josephine is nowhere to be seen. Eugéne and Hortense are really cute, but your voice... Again... Our Sweetest Empress is the epitome of grace and sensitivity. You are just cosplaying an imaginary princess with a smug attitude. I just want to hug Joséphine right now. She deserves so many special things. And what is wrong with the portrayal of the deep and passionate relationship between Emperor Napoleon and His Josephine? There is not a milligram of truth there. I felt so embarrassed and disgusted that I simply could not look at those shameful and obnoxious scenes... I closed my eyes and I begged the Imperial couple for forgiveness. This is truly outrageous... Emperor Napoleon has so much love and tenderness for his one and only Joséphine... I felt so sick seeing how you betrayed them, Scotty old bore. Yer British mentality really made a mess. And you have no idea about the Napoleonic era. Barras looks like a bartender, Talleyrand seems to have food poisoning and Fouché is scared of himself.
The uniforms may look good, but the actors do not do them justice. The battle scenes are riddled with chaos, cheap 'fanfiction' imagination and useless noise... The Emperor is a genius, but Joaquin decided to daydream and sleep with his eyes open. The real Napoleon speaks with so much strength and confidence, but Phoenix sounds like his lungs hurt. The divorce scene is a disgrace. And why is it in 1807?! Emperor Napoleon and Empress Josephine suffered so much in 1809 and I can picture them in bed, one night before Joséphine's departure, crying in each other's arms... How could you allow that psychotic mockery to unfold? Joaquin really needs therapy and Vanessa... Why are you chuckling like a senseless doll? Moreover, the coronation is so rushed and fake... Nobody felt anything in this movie. And the " Coup D'État " was a disgusting 'Halloween' party with rowdy teens... I feel so sorry and immensely sad for Emperor Napoleon and Josephine... Horrifying...
Marie Louise and François (The King Of Rome) barely appear and Joaquin acts the last battles as if he is really not there or he charges around aimlessly... Boy... I am so enraged... The "Campaign Of France" is nowhere to be seen, the Emperor's triumphal return from the Island Of Elba is so faint and feeble, Wellington looks like a grumpy janitor with a fowl mouth when he spoke about the Emperor (I pictured Emperor Napoléon yelling at him and striking him with his riding whip) and the only thing that gave me some enjoyment was when the ugly Duke hit his head while he was walking through 'Bellerophon'... Man, and it felt so devastating when they were calling Napoleon "Emperor" instead of "Sire" or "Your Majesty"... What is this?!
I am beyond disappointed... This "movie" is a gruesome insult to the Greatest Emperor Napoleon... Riddle Snot has ruined an amazing potential by employing tired and clueless actors to play the most amazing Imperial family in the whole Universe. Sir Andrew Roberts deserves a " Pulitzer " for that article and I wish he directed a movie about the Emperor by casting Aneurin Barnard (he truly resembles the Emperor to a great extent and he is super passionate about his roles - " Interlude In Prague " is a wonderful example)... I apologise to the Emperor for the horrible mess Scott made... Joaquin was just playing his weird Joker 'fanfiction', whining, laughing, mumbling and sleeping... All I want to do is hug Emperor Napoleon so tight and give him a kiss... He deserves the best!
#ridleyscott#trainwreck#shipwreck#planewreck
#napoleonmovie #emperornapoleon #napoleonichistory #empressjosephine #kingofrome #mygreatestlovenapoleon #andrewroberts #napoleonbonaparte #joaquinphoenix #vanessakirby
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strange new worlds episode 2 onions:
im SO excited for this series i hope they don't do the Saving The Universe plot like they did with discovery and it will be just fun small scale stories like this one :^)
uhura is SO cute i love her . . . the short hair + red shimmer shadow + muted red lip is such a cute look. compared to aos uhura she's soooo different, i like the more childlike enthusiastic snarky uhura as compared to the perfectly polished aos version <3
the only thing i don't like and i know im nitpicking is the 37 languages bit ; i know it's Her Thing but that's literally an impossible amount of languages to speak or even just know. even if you're working with languages from the same family (the 22 kenyan ones) it's simply not doable, even if you dedicate your entire life and all of your time to it . . . but once again im nitpicking
sam??? idk whats the point of introducing thee samuel kirk if he appears for 5 minutes before getting KO'd by the aliens. there's barely a glimpse of his personality before he's knocked out , i hope there's a sam centric episode somewhere soon :( it's so interesting that he's a xenoanthropologist tho. i wonder if aurelan's gonna be in the show? probably not but im Hoping
ive changed my mind abt snw!spock he is cute. ethan's acting is less subtle than im used to and probably closer to tos!spock but it's a welcome change ; as much as i love the kelvin timeline emo edgelord prince spock, seeing him be more comfortable in his skin is nice. he's been working on his pep talks !!!!
very conflicted because anson mount will never have what bruce greenwood has BUT snw!pike.... i am looking extremely disrespectfully. the greying hair the corny one liners the self confidence.... sir
(also i hope against hope spock and pike will have the same mentor type relationship as in aos even tho they probably won't)
i love LOVE ortegas what a funky lesbian. also this fit is everything to me
idk about la'an still (because she was rude to nyota and no one is allowed to be rude to my baby girl) or the andorian but that's because they don't really. have personality yet. once again most of the things i don't like abt snw right now is because there's only two episodes and ive seen only a fraction of what this show has to offer
separate points for number one's nails i don't have anything to say abt her yet but the nail polish is so pretty and goes well with the command gold
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The Final Day’‘
This is absolutely going to be long and rambley af so I’mma just put a cut here. This is just one massive post for the entire rest of the game.
Rindo is back in the RG somehow. Which makes less than no sense. What was that crazy beam. Shibuya is GONE there isn’t an RG to send him back to, even if someone did want to send him back?
That beam reminded me of the Jesus beams not gonna lie.
But… Fret. Presumably Nagi and Beat too. They’re. Gone. Poor Rindo… That’s the worst kind of gaslighting. Reality itself is gaslighting this poor kid. ‘Your best friend in the world is gone, so gone that no one remembers him. You don’t even get to mourn properly because there is no one TO mourn.’ I am also not okay.
I assume this random talking to us at Hachiko is the dude I saw a brief glimpse of in a screenshot from the final trailer. Hazuki Mikagi, okay. Everything about this is supremely weird.
Leading this weirdo around and he asked how we feel about emotions? Um, what?
Was he responsible for that beam of light?
This whole thing is extremely unsettling, I don’t think I like it. The music is all… serene, this guy keeps asking existential questions, who even comes up to some kid clearly having a bad day and demands a tour of the city.
He knows Rindo’s name even though we never told him. Not sure if that was a slip or an intentional nudge that Something is going on but there we go.
‘I should take this chance to apologize for Kubo. He’s a real piece of work.’ WHAT. YOU SEND HIM TO SHINJUKU?!?! IS THIS KID GOD!? WHAT!??!
‘Exorcised’. Like a demon. Which is a psychic rank you can get in the first game, and probably this game, ergo, a thing that exists in this universe.
Okay. So this Hazuki guy is Something Else. I dunno if he’s an Angel or higher or WHAT. He’s something. And he “exorcised” what Fuckwad had Fallen to when he decided not to stop at Shinjuku and continue on to Shibuya. But he only did this after Rindo faught so hard to stop it. And then he gave Rindo what he thought Rindo wanted. And now he’s here trying to understand why Rindo is miserable. Which to us, as humans, is obvious: the people he loved, the connections and family he had made through the game are all gone and worse, no one remembers they ever existed.
And now he’s being offered the chance to try again. This feels like a double edged sword. And I don’t care.
Okay I actually kind of appreciate the thing Hazuki is pulling here. He knows what it is that Rindo wants, I’m pretty sure he’s listening to his thoughts, actually, and in order to make Rindo own up to it he’s arguing the ‘no’ position. Giving Rindo someone to argue against so he can convince himself.
WHY DOES EVERYTHING HAPPEN AT UDAGAWA.
Bruh some of these clips were in the announcement trailer.
(I can’t wait to read the secret reports. That’s gonna be a wild ride.)
Oooooh that’s what ‘exorcised’ means. That is hardcore. He definitely deserved it but that is uh. Slightly inconvenient.
Can we actually contact Rhyme this time PLEASE. Oooh Rindo worked out Kaie is waiting for Rhyme. :O I’M FINALLY GONNA GET MY MASSIVE COUNTER OFFENSIVE FUCK YES. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH I’M PUMPED LET’S FUCKING GOOOOOOO!!!!
Who’s gonna protect them. Beat. Really. Just give them the damn pins at this point. They both know their ways around a fight and Kaie might need the backup. If we lose, we’re all toast regardless, and if we win everyone gets put back where they belong.
AAAAAAAAAAAH SHE’S HERE!!! RHYME!!!! Aw… She can’t see Neku and Shoka cuz they’re actually dead. That’s really depressing. Makes sense but like. Oof. Especially for Neku.
I love that Rhyme still has a saying for everything.
This timeline is going to be a mess by the time I get everything positioned correctly lmao
Beat’s ‘How do you know about my sister?! Right, future.’ is never going to NOT be funny. It’s very refreshing to have a time travel plot where people just listen when he tells them shit needs to happen.
Is it acutaly Shiki time ohh my god. I might cry. Please tell me she has a face now. If her face is still illegal I will actually scream.
I’m offended. We didn’t get to go see Shiki. The betrayal. OH but now we might be? Stop playing with me, game. GIVE. ME. SHIKI.
Rindo was freaking out that we weren’t gonna be able to get rid of all the Noise around the café and I definitely threw my hands up and yelled when I saw the word ‘zeptogram’. And I read it before he said it, cuz I read v. fast. Nice to see you again, idiot. Please don’t go berserk again.
I am. Very impressed that Minamimoto managed to work out where the Dissonance Noise are coming from, down to the exact energy source that creates them. He nailed it. Well done sir.
I think… he’s proposing we awaken the city and use the energy generated by the thoughts and emotions of the living people to neutralize some of the Dissonance Noise that are waiting in the pin. Erode some of its power.
“How about this: I’ll talk, you type.” Lmao.
I got denied Shiki again. Part of me is annoyed. The other part of me is like ‘are they saving her entrance for when she can see Neku again properly because I can live with that’.
OH the Hishima cutscene is voiced now OKAY. Guess that means this is the one. Rhyme is voiced too. This is gonna be it.
And she speaks Minamioto. Coo.
Huh. Neku’s power is to sync with people. Which he learned to do in the first game. From Mr H, with the harmonizer pin. (Twister is playing and I have Emotions help) And now he’s gonna do it on an absolutely MASSIVE scale. This is insane. I am 1,000% here for it. Sync, Dive, Remind. And if I had to guess, we’re doing this atop 104.
Alright Shiba. ‘Mere. Tsugumi’s eyes aren’t all freaky anymore yay. Oh snap. He’s gonna unleash the Plague Noise against the Dissonance ones. Nice. Turnabout is fair play. I’m kinda sad Fuckwad isn’t here to witness that.
Alright. Change. Our. Fate.
SHIIIIIIIIIIKKKKKKKKKIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I gave myself a headache ow.
“07734.” “Ew. Hey! Don’t just spout off numbers and walk away, you jerk!” That was amazing.
FUCK ME SIDEWAYS. OH MY GOD. OH MY GOD. NO. NO WAY. I DIDN’T THINK THERE WAS ANY WAY. OH. MY. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH. This is the first time Neku’s seen him since Joshua failed to stop Coco from killing him. I’m. A puddle. Help. Neku looked so happy. My cat is slightly concerned haha.
Neku still holds his hands like he’s got the headphones. The same pose as in the first game when you scan. This gives me all the feels.
“They’re just mindless thoughts” Okay so I’m mentally exhausted at this point and I processed that as ‘thots’ and it was hilarious. BEGONE THOTS.
Okay this thing right here? This is a final boss. And it is cool as fuck. Too bad it’s trying to END ME. So cool. SO. COOL. Here comes phase 2 lol. I died and had to redo it. FML.
That. Was awesome. A worthy successor to the epic final strike of the first game. 999% eh?
I continue to not like Shinjuku rules. Once you’re a Reaper, leaving means you get erased once the game ends? Disrespectfully, fuck that. Oh don’t you dare, Shoka. Don’t. You. Dare.
Oh, Joshua is here. PLEASE. Lmao Shoka’s reaction. I’m sure he appreciates that, the drama queen.
*facepalms* Joshua strikes again. I’ve missed you, you little shit. You are terrible, but I missed you. Rindo, I’m pretty sure she’s fine. I think captain helpful over here reincarnated her for you. Since you saved him and his city. I guess I’ll see though.
Uzuki and Kariya continue to be adorable. I love them. And yeah, good luck calling in that debt from Minamimoto, Coco. Gooooood luck.
I’m having a lot of Joshua centered emotions right now there is too much Joshua all at once help. “I should have known I could trust you.” You are killing me dude. You really, really should have. I’m going to turn that line over in my head for way too long, I just know it, but let’s try to get through this before my brain turns off completely. “Let’s not keep her waiting.” OKAY THANKS I’M GONNA CRY AGAIN.
What Hazuki was saying about ‘purifying’ as opposed to ‘destroying’ Shinjuku makes me think that restarting it in some form was always part of the plan, so hopefully they’ll have luck with that. It’s still profoundly fucked up that any of that happened, and even more so that it was sanctioned. I’m. Going to be hung up on that for a while once it sinks in.
This poor idiot hitting on Rhyme is about to get got oh no XD
Shiki is breaking my heart. Aaaaaaaah!!! Reunioooooon.
Ooof it’s been a month since Rindo saw Shoka. Big oof. Joshuaaaaaa.
And then they almost got hit by a car lmao. OMG HE MISSED HER FRIEND REQUESTS AHAHAHAHAH YOU GOOBER. Neku really should have warned them that Joshua is Like That lol. Even when he’s being helpful it’s in the must backhanded way possible.
I would very much like to know why on earth Shinjuku needed to be obliterated though. Like. Does that… Happen often? Maybe the secret reports say.
Speaking of, time to get those, along with the rest of the trophies.
!!!! The title screen updated, NICE. Can’t let anyone who hasn’t beaten it see that but NICE.
There’s another Another Day. Oh boy. I am not ready for that madness yet.
Random thought as I was moving this from word, where I typed it: I’m really, really fucking glad they didn’t decide to deal with Mr H the way they dealt with sleezy mcfuckwad. That would have been… I don’t have a word.
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Hangout - 11/24
Click the read more if you want to see @hiss-and-vinegar and Alastor have some extremely affectionate, tender, cuddly, and emotionally supportive best friend fluff.
And also to see a snake and a deer violently wrestling in the hotel lobby.
And make fun of each other’s French accents.
Alastor
Room set up, booze supplied and food as well presented as Alastor could manage on such short notice—maybe he should start keeping some hors d'oeuvres on hand in the ice box for times like this, Sir Pentious rarely seems to *schedule* his visits—and now to wait in the lobby for Sir Pentious's arrival.
Sir Pentious
Sir Pentious? Scheduling his visits?? But then what of the element of SURPRISE that he enjoyed so much? It was one of the few ways he could add a bit of rebellion to his daily life. *Spontaneity!* Inconveniencing those around him just because he could! Anyway, it had worked out well last time, so the serpent hadn't any intention of changing his way of doing things.
The doors open up, and basking in the orange and reddish hues of Hell's bleak skies was none other than the snake demon himself. He held a cane in his right hand, leaning upon it as he slithered into the Hotel properly, through the entranceway, and towards the Concierge where he could see Alastor standing there. He stops, moving his head to the side to see if there was anything behind the Radio Demon--looked clear enough.
Alastor
Alastor looks up as soon as the door opens. "Ah! Right on time!" He heads toward Sir Pentious, closing the distance between them. "So, my friend, shall we?"
It certainly is clear enough. He's out in the open and completely defenseless.
Sir Pentious
You know how cats do that thing where their pupils enlarge? It shouldn't be possible for him, but it was known to happen. Sir Pentious lowered his body, just somewhat, and wriggled in place. His grin widened considerably, and it seemed as though his fangs had *lengthened* as well. The hat is getting into it, too, the both of them matching the crazed expression.
Alastor
That gives him pause. He stops several feet shorter than he'd planned. "You're looking a little more maniacal than usual," he says warily. "Scheming something new?"
He's about to get attacked, isn't he.
Sir Pentious
Do you know how fast a Cobra's strike is, Alastor?
In the time that you might have stopped to ponder that, Sir Pentious *lunges* for him, intent on TACKLING him and rolling across the floor. BOOSH--
Alastor
Fast enough that Alastor doesn't have time to avoid it—but he grapples Sir Pentious before they've hit the ground, getting one arm around the back of his neck and the other hooked under his armpit to keep him locked in place and unable to use that arm.
"You telegraph your attacks." He's half growling, half hissing with exertion. "Saw it coming. Now *you're* trapped with *me.*"
Says the man pinned flat on his back, scrabbling to get his legs around Sir Pentious's waist, no idea how to pin fifteen feet of snake without cheating by pulling out the tentacles.
Sir Pentious
"HA!!" He CACKLES, face mere INCHES from Alastor's--although with the way his neck is, it can be very far away. But he's choosing not to do that right now. "I CHOSE TO TELEGRAPH THAT ONE! FOR I WANTED TO SSEEE WHAT YOU WOULD--NGH--DO!" He says, flicking his tongue as he attempts to. Move his stuck arm,
"YOU ARE sssssssSTRONGER THAN YOU LOOK, ACTUALLY-- BUT!!! I!!! AM *MUCH HEAVIER.*" Time to. Raise himself up. C: How do you pile drive a man who is clinging to you???
"DO YOU BEG FOR MERCY, ALASSSSSTOR!?"
Alastor
You don't, that's how! "The bigger they are, the harder they fall!" He takes advantage of the temporarily reduced weight to twist to the side, squirm butt first sideways out from under Sir Pentious, and attempt to climb up onto Sir Pentious's back without letting go of his neck. "Mercy? From you? I'd be *insulted!*"
Sir Pentious
AHKKJDFJKJSHDFK! He's being CLIMBED!!! His eyes go all CRAZY--and he SCRAMBLES, trying to reach back to claw at him!!! All of his eyes are looking at Alastor, but alas, eyes on their won can't do much. He TURNS around, left, then RIGHT--DAMMIT!! Scrabble scrabble,
"WELL, *GOOD* BECAUSE I DO NOT--NGHGHRGH-- I DO NOT KEEP *PRISONERSSSS!*"
Alastor
Alastor laughs wildly—claw away, he has a pain tolerance somewhere halfway between "professional masochist" and "dead horse."
Unfortunately, while he's got a good grip, he can't DO much from right here. He could hypothetically strangle Sir Pentious until he passes out—but then he'd be passed out. All the tricks he knows to disable someone's legs are dependent upon them having legs. He gets one leg around Sir Pentious's hips and tries to slide the other one down lower to try to restrict the top of Sir Pentious's tail—yeah no, no, that's not going to do anything.
He can at least catch one wrist and... pin it behind Sir Pentious's back with his body? Yeah! Fifty percent less clawing.
Sir Pentious
............ That's it.
That's it! You know what he's going to do? He's going to LIE DOWN. Quite suddenly. Onto his back. THWUMP. And you know what he's going to do after that? Put his entire massive tail on top of himself. Get CRUSHED, you GRINNING DEERMAN.
Alastor
Why are they falling. Did he win—?
Oh. Shit.
The impact knocks the breath out of him with a loud crackle like the sound of thunder distorting a station's broadcast. For a split second, he's stunned—but he shakes it off when he feels Sir Pentious's back pressing harder against him as he prepares to pull up his frankly enormous tail. Oh no—
He attempts to squirm out of the way while the only thing he has to worry about is the weight of Sir Pentious's relatively slender torso, even relinquishing his headlock so he can push with both arms. He *nearly* gets free—except for one leg still pinned beneath. *Ow.*
He flings an arm and his other leg on top of Sir Pentious, trying to pin his tail in place against his torso while he's nearly doubled over like this. An alligator can bite hard enough to pierce steel but once its mouth is shut it can be kept shut with duct tape; maybe, Alastor thinks hopefully, trying to hold a snake doubled up like this is the same.
Sir Pentious
HA HA! Now, he had the Radio Demon exactly where he w---- What. What was this slithery man doing? Attempting to crawl out from under him? It wouldn't work, you can't get out of this one... His tail was going to come down, and that was going to be that! Crushed under the weight of SIR PEN--
Alastor had was apparently trying to pin his tail to his body to keep him from... what exactly??? Sir Pentious' eyes widened, a goofy amount as he turned his head to look at the impressive flexibility of a man who very much did not have as many joints as he did. "ALASSSTOR." He bares his fangs, quite psychotically.
"I AM MUCH MORE *FLEXIBLE* THAN YOU ARE!"
With a CACKLE, he wriggles the non-pinned portion of his tail upwards--if he had to crush Alastor beneath him in multiple ways, then so be it!!! No mercy? No insults, then!
He brings his tail down upon the both of them, like dropping the world's heaviest spaghetti onto a plate. SLAM!
Alastor
Yipe. He presses hard against Sir Pentious's side—like someone clinging to a friend during a jump scare at a haunted house—in the unconscious hope that the blow will come down less heavily if Sir Pentious has to slam himself just as hard.
If it helps, it's hard to tell. It knocks the air out of him again. *Wheeze.* He's not going to be able to take many more blows like that—it's a miracle that one didn't dislocate something—he's *got* to escape, but how—?
Sir Pentious has his entire tail in the air. Which is no fun for Alastor's pinned leg, but it means that Sir Pentious is only making contact with the ground along his back, the rest of him balanced precariously atop. Alastor considers this a split second; then unhooks the arm and leg he's been using to pin part of Sir Pentious's tail and *shoves,* trying to force him to roll over and fall onto his side so Alastor can free his pinned leg and squirm away.
Sir Pentious
The clinging gets loud purring out of Sir Pentious--but suddenly being SHOVED does end the entirety of that. You're right, the bigger they are, the harder they do fall! He goes briefly googly eyed as he topples over onto his side. His head whips around to watch the now free deerman--
"CAN'T GO FAR ON THOSE LEGSSSSSS OF YOURSSS ALASSSTOR!" But he doesn't give chase, instead rolling over again so he can lie on his front, his elbows propping up his head as he presses his hands to his cheeks, wiggling his tail with sadistic glee. "NO HUNTSSS TODAY, I'M AFRAID, NOT FROM THIS APEX PREDATOR!"
Alastor
He laughs triumphantly. Free! He back rolls away to get a little distance between himself and Sir Pentious, then gets to his feet!
And immediately falls on his butt again. With the tail of his coat flipped up and over his head from the back roll. The leg that was pinned to the floor is numb—it's only just starting to painfully tingle along his thigh where the blood flow was cut off.
He flips his coattail off his face, peers at his leg as he gives it an experimental wiggle, and says, "We'll call it a draw."
Sir Pentious
"*HEE HEE HEE!*"
Oh, look at Penny. He looks absolutely **tickled** with himself. He's hissing out laughter between his teeth, ssss ssss ssss!
Alastor
Oh. Hold on, Alastor's a little lightheaded suddenly. It's probably from that thwacking he took and definitely not anything else. Don't look at him, he's not staring at Sir Pentious, YOU'RE staring.
Wheezing with laughter between pants of exertion, he scoots up to Sir Pentious's side again. "I'm not used to fighting snakes!" He leans on an elbow. "I think I need more practice—but I didn't do bad, you have to admit that."
Sir Pentious
~~I am looking disrespectfully.~~ Sir Pentious turns to look at him, gesturing with his index claw to Alastor's face, then gesturing to the rest of him, "YES, YOU DID DO *RATHER* WELL! I HONESTLY DO NOT WRESTLE OFTEN! NO ONE TO DO IT WITH, AND IT ISN'T EXACTLY A *GENTLEMANLY* ACTIVITY. WHY, THE LASSST PERSON I WRESTLED WITH WAS THE LADY CENTIV. OH, WE BIT THE, AHEM, *SHIT* OUT OF EACH OTHER. IT WASSSS ONE OF MY FIRSSST ENCOUNTERSSS SSSINCE JOINING THAT WEBBED SSSITE."
Sir Pentious wiggles his fingers, "I AM MOSSSTLY SURPRISED YOU DID NOT SSSNAP IN TWO! YOU ARE MUCH SSSSTRONGER THAN YOU LOOK, I BELIEVE I SAID."
Alastor
"Biting's legal?! You mean I could have just—got my jaws around your neck when you were trying to flatten me with your tail, and that would have been it?" He'd considered it for a moment, while pressed up to Sir Pentious's side (listening to him purr), before electing to escape. An indignant harrumph. "The next time you launch a surprise attack, give me the rules of combat first."
Sir Pentious
He's BEAMING from ear to ear--well. He doesn't have any ears, but you know.
"I COULD HAVE BITTEN YOU, AS WELL, BUT THEN YOU'D BE LIGHTHEADED FROM BLOODLOSS BEFORE WE EVEN GOT OUT DRINK ON, MY GOOD MAN." Wiggly fingers!!!
Alastor
~~From snake headboob to snake headboob.~~ "So is the plan to wait until I'm drunk and then bite?" With mock offense, "When my senses will be fuzzy and I can't enjoy it properly?"
Sir Pentious
He just LAUGHS, and SLAPS Alastor on the back.
"YOU *FREAK*, I CAN'T GET ENOUGH OF YOU! CANNIBAL COLONY, INDEED. BUT NO-- I'M NOT BITING YOU TONIGHT, UNLESS YOUR FOOD AND DRINK ARE NOT UP TO PAR!!!" He wiggles his tongue.
Alastor
He beams as he's slapped on the back like he just received high praise. Why yes. He is a freak. He can't get enough of you either. He's not staring at the tongue, YOU'RE staring— "No promises on the food, I had to make do with what was already in the hotel!" He gets to his feet, favoring his non-tingly leg, and offers a hand to Sir Pentious. "You can tell me whether it passes muster."
Sir Pentious
He takes the hand, but he ends up just getting himself back up--if he'd pulled on Al, he'd likely have just pulled him straight down. Heavy. Sir Pentious adjusts his bowtie, tilting his head somewhat upward like a certain <:chungo:738987082118201486> smug animal, "WELL, WELL, IT CANNOT BE HELPED. IN ALL HONESSSSTY, I CAME TO GET HAMMERED WITH MY BESSST MATE."
With a movement of his arms, he gestures towards the stairs, "LEAD ON, CHUM."
Alastor
"You're helping." He flings an arm around Sir Pentious's shoulders and leans on him to get the weight off his still-tingly leg. "I feel like I've just been injured in the trenches." He conjures up an old marching song to the rhythm of his walking and sings along to it, "*Pack up your troubles in your old kit-bag, and smile, smile, smile~!*"
Sir Pentious
He lowers his hood a bit more to avoid smacking the deerman in his face. Again. For the upteenth time--he doesn't know the number, but he sure will chuckle along. "OH, THAT'SSS RIGHT, YOU WERE IN ONE OF THE WARSSS, WEREN'T YOU? I COULD HAVE SSSSWORN YOU MENTIONED THAT." Sure, he'll help you, but he has to lower himself a great deal--he's longer now than he used to be! "YOU MIGHT AS WELL SIT ON MY TAIL, I'LL TAKE YOU UP... BUT I DON'T KNOW WHICH ROOM YOU'VE DESIGNATED."
Alastor
"I was in the *great* one, in fact! It didn't feel too great from the front, but they didn't poll the troops before naming it."
He snorts at the offer. "And me without my cowboy hat. I'd look ridiculous, perched on you with my feet pulled up." But he glances back at the length of Sir Pentious's tail consideringly. Looking ridiculous isn't an automatic dealbreaker.
But he shakes his head. "No, no! I'd rather keep malingering from up here." He resumes humming cheerily. The poor soldier, wounded in action.
Sir Pentious
"YOU COULD ALWAYS RIDE SIDE-SADDLE, BUT IN MY OPINION, YOU ALWAYS LOOK RIDICULOUS." Prrr prrr. He looks so pleased with himself. "THE *GREAT* WAR... I DO NOT ENVY THAT, NOT IN THE LEASSSST." A chuckle, "AS MUCH AS I ENJOY CHAOS AND BLOODSHED, I'D MUCH RATHER NOT BE ON THE FRONT LINESSSS. NOT MY EXPERTISE!"
Alastor
He unconsciously llllleans a little more to feel the purring against his side. Good vibrations.
"It's not mine either." He grimaces. "But! Who wants to talk about the war! It was already old news a hundred years ago!" He points the direction to turn at the top of the stairs.
Sir Pentious
He's tempted to just LIFT Alastor up, but he's tired after their rough housing. Yes, that was the reason. Turning...
"TRUE ENOUGH. WHY, I DIED ABOUT FORTY YEARS BEFORE IT, GIVE OR TAKE! NO NEED TO THINK ABOUT IT, BUT SSSTILL. HOW INTERESSSTING IT WOULD HAVE BEEN IF I HAD BEEN ABLE TO TRAVEL TO AMERICA, LIKE I HAD EVENTUALLY PLANNED. HAD I NOT DIED SSSO SSSUDDENLY, I WONDER IF WE WOULD HAVE MET SSSOMEHOW."
... A pause, "OH. RIGHT. WRONG VERSION! HA." He clears his throat, *where's the booze.*
Alastor
*Wrong version.* The same thought had hit him a moment faster than Sir Pentious, as he talked about never having been to America—when the version Alastor had known had had, as far as historians could work out, his entire career in the States.
He squeezes Sir Pentious's shoulders a little and plays along with the What If scenario. "I was born a couple decades after you died. By the time I would have been old enough to appreciate a meeting, you'd probably be well into retirement!" He laughs. "My molher told me that when she was a child, when you—*our* you, rather—were targeting American port cities, her family was making plans to migrate en masse inland to somewhere you wouldn't consider strategically valuable enough to hit—maybe join the Oklahoma land rushes, it was relatively close and they knew several other Black families going. But then you died and they stuck around in New Orleans."
He points at a door, here it is. "So, if you *had* come to America after '88—my mother might have ended up in Oklahoma while my father stayed in Louisiana and poor little Alastor would never have been born!"
Sir Pentious
He respects being humored without Alastor drawing too much attention to it. He listened with intent, trying to imagine the chaos his doppelganger sowed upon the port cities. A contented Cobra sigh, raspy and terrifying.
"*POOR* LITTLE ALASTOR! WHAT A SSSENTENCE THAT ISSS. YESSS, TOO RIGHT, I AM *MUCH* OLDER THAN YOU, CHUM. NOT THAT THAT KIND OF THING MATTERSSSS *HERE.* I'M OLDER THAN YOUR RAG-TAG POSSE PUT TOGETHER!" A chuckle.
He'll offer his arm for the Radio Demon, assuming his leg isn't back to its functional self, "YOU KNOW, MY FATHER WAS AMERICAN. FROM TENNESSEE. HE CAME OVER OUR WAYS ABOUT..." Hmm. Face of strained thought, "WELL, I'D SSSAY FIVE YEARS BEFORE HE MET MY MOTHER. HE CAME LOOKING FOR WORK, AND TO GET AWAY FROM THE *TENSIONS* IN THE SSSTATESSS, I IMAGINE. HE NEVER REALLY TALKED MUCH ABOUT HIMSELF, NOT TO ME."
Alastor
He's about to argue—Rosie's probably older than Sir Pentious several times over—but then he realizes that the "rag-tag posse" Sir Pentious is referring to is probably the hotel crew. "Ha! I don't know, Husk and I put together might have you beat, he's older than he looks."
His leg's just about back in working order, but that's not going to stop him from taking the offered arm. "Really! Half American, are you! I never would have guessed. I've never been to Tennessee—but I always meant to go, I had a pen pal in Memphis, brilliant occultist." He opens the door, tada. It's set up exactly the same as the last room they hung out in, booze and food waiting over on the expected table.
Sir Pentious
Oh excellent. He grins, showing off those sharp yellow teeth of his again, and pats his coat down. Good, good, he still has a few cigarettes on hand.
In Sir Pentious slithers, heading to the table immediately to claim dibs on a bottle of bourbon. He almost *nuzzles* it, it's been a while since he drank enough to get silly!
"YESS, HALF AMERICAN. I GENERALLY KEEP IT ON THE DOWNLOW, SSSINCE I BARELY KNOW MUCH ABOUT YOUR COUNTRY... OTHER THAN IT BEING LOUD ENOUGH TO HEAR ACROSS THE OCEAN, HA!"
Alastor
And here Alastor had expected him to go for brandy again.
"Ha! Guilty as charged and proud of it!" He unbuttons his coat and shrugs it off before he sits, asking, "You don't mind, do you? Maybe *you* can't sweat, but I can and I just wrestled an anaconda."
The food on offer is a weird hodgepodge of whatever Alastor could find that he thought met Sir Pentious's culinary preferences and that didn't come in plastic wrappers: French onion soup (leftover, but no need to mention that), a few rolls and a loaf of sourdough he popped into a nearby bakery to shamelessly steal, some smoked salmon—he gestures at it as the one item on display that most disappoints him, "I would have made *baked* salmon to go better with the soup if I'd known you were visiting"—and some cubes of beef he'd quickly seared, just barely on the cooked side of rare, tossed cheekily in a sugar bowl next to the French onion soup as if they were sugar cubes to be dropped into tea. With some random jams and a couple jars of mustard to compensate for the—by Alastor's standards—rather slim selection.
Sir Pentious
For a few seconds, Sir Pentious thought that Alastor was asking him if he minded that he was American. Once the sentence catches up, he waves a hand.
"NO, I DON'T MIND. I WOULD IF YOU WEREN'T WEARING ANYTHING UNDERNEATH THAT JACKET OF YOURSSSS." what a grin.
He's going to look over the selection, and cover his mouth as he looks a little.. Well! Sir Pentious didn't want to be *rude.*
"AH, AND HERE I SHOULD HAVE BROUGHT SANDWICHESSSS! I'M INTERESTED IN YOUR MEAT CUBES." Hee hee.
Alastor
He looks over the display ruefully. "I should have had sandwich meat on hand. Consider the cubes yours!" He pulls the soup bowl over, this is his now. Doesn't even need to scoop some out of the serving bowl now, does he? "*Next time,* I *insist* on six hours' warning before you come over for a picnic. There's no greater crime than for a host to let his guest go hungry!" Says the man guilty of crimes like "murder" and "eating people."
Sir Pentious
Prr. He swoops his hood over his shoulder, playing with it idly and grinning.
"VERY WELL, ALASTOR. I WON'T DUMP ANYMORE SSSURPRISE, LASSSST MINUTE VISITSSSS UPON YOU, UNLESS THERE'SSS NO PROMISE OF FOOD TO BE SSSERVED!"
It was funny to show up unannounced, but having barely any food to show for it did cut down on that food. He takes a seat on the couch, still clutching the bourbon.
"ALL THINGSSS CONSSSSIDERED, YOU DIDN'T DO TOO BAD!"
Alastor
“Even then, unless we’re going out, I’d like to have *something* edible on hand! My mother would fly down from Heaven to give me an earful if she found out I’d invited a friend into my home without feeding him—and the hotel’s full of beds and I’m in it daily, so it counts as a ‘home’ on a technicality.”
He waves off the faint praise, but not without his chest puffing up a little. He picks up a spoon and points at the soup. “Not a fan of French onion soup, I take it?”
Sir Pentious
He laughs, "OH, IT WOULDN'T BE *HELL* SHE'D HAVE A PROBLEM WITH, EH? MOSSST ASSUREDLY YOUR HOSSST ABILITIESSS." He laughs through his teeth.
"OH, THE SOUP? I HAVEN'T THOUGHT TO CHECK IT YET, BUT MEAT IS WHAT I'M MOSSSST IN THE MOOD FOR."
Alastor
Cue the studio audience laughter. “Damnation is no excuse for starving a guest!”
Alastor brightens. He’d thought that Sir Pentious’s disappointment was due to his opinion of the available offerings, but maybe it was only the quantity. He pushes the soup’s serving bowl back to the middle and gestures at the two smaller empty bowls he’d supplied. “It’s all onions, butter, and cheese—but I thought you might want meat in it! It pairs best with venison, but in a pinch beef will do fine.” (A lot of the side dishes Alastor makes pair best with venison. Is it because he thinks everything pairs best with venison or is it because he’s biased toward cooking foods he can have with venison? Who can say.) “I recommend tossing a few cubes in, that’s what they’re there for. It’s excellent for dipping bread in, too. Usually toast, but soft bread’s fine.”
Sir Pentious
A brief face scrunch at the mention of toast. Sir Pentious doesn't bother with the smaller serving bowls, instead taking a spoon and dipping it into the soup.
"I HATE TOAST. IT IS TOO CRUNCHY, TOO *BRITTLE.* THOUGH I NEVER HAD A PROPER *TOASSSSTER* FOR THAT KIND OF THING."
Alastor
“You may notice I didn’t bring toast. After all, we know well that *crumbly* is for the *lower class!*” No, he’s never going to forget that Sir Pentious said that.
Sir Pentious
He *cackles*, and puts the spoonful in his mouth. Wow, he didn't recoil this time! Instead he actually swallows it down, clicking his tongue to the roof of his mouth.
"NOT BAD AT ALL, ALASSSTOR."
Alastor
He’s going to add that sand-sized grain of gold to the jar in which he collects words of positive affirmation from Sir Pentious. “I’ll keep it in my recipe book!” Apparently they’re eating straight out of the serving bowl. He gets a slice of sourdough and dips it into the bowl, like it’s some kind of au jus/fondue. “It uses a beef stock, so it still tastes rather meaty even without any actual meat.”
Sir Pentious
Snickering through his teeth, he moves to drop a few meat cubes into the soup. Sploot.
"THAT'SSS A FUN THING TO DO TO THE *HERBIVORES,* WOULDN'T YOU SSSSAY? NYA HA HA!"
Alastor
He laughs at the thought. “I don’t get along very well with vegetarians—but oh, wouldn’t that make them hopping mad! I’ll keep it in mind if I ever need to really insult one.”
Sir Pentious
"*SSS SSS SSS!*" OH, he is GIGGLY today! You're making him laugh so much, Alastor. But anyway, time to try the meat with the soup.... Nomf....
"MM, VERY WELL PREPARED. JUSSSST THE WAY I LIKE IT."
Alastor
He’s noticed! And every time it makes his dead heart flutter. “Good! I do believe I’m getting your tastes figured out.” As a reward for a job well done, he’s grabbing one of the meat chunks the next time he dips his bread in the bowl.
Sir Pentious
BRIEFLY BRISTLES. He fights the urge to be selfish, actually... Usually he would yell and fuss!
But he doesn't. Instead, he just WATCHES ALASTOR INTENTLY.
Alastor
Alastor watches Sir Pentious watch him intently. “... I *cooked* these, I can have one.”
Sir Pentious
"YES." He leans on his chin on his hands, still watching him with an ever growing grin! What a brat.
Alastor
Then he’s going to chew EXTRA SLOWLY, so Sir Pentious KNOWS that he’s savoring it.
Sir Pentious
SHIT EATING GRIN. What is wrong with this man. Finally he turns off of this nonsense, and reaches for a roll to bite into. Nomf.
Alastor
Alastor huffs, and takes another dip of the soup. "So, what brings you by so suddenly? A desperate desire to grind my smile into the floor, or something else?"
Sir Pentious
A blink! And Sir Pentious sits up straighter, adjusting his (used to be Al's) bowtie. "WELL, NO, NOT EXACTLY. I DID NOT HAVE THE CHANCE TO SSSSIT WITH YOU SSSO MUCH LASSSST TIME.... AND." His hand crawls across the table, and takes Alastor's, "SSSORRY, ABOUT LASSSST TIME. I MISSED YOU! I WANTED TO TALK AND TOUCH AND DRINK, BUT THINGSSSS WERE SSSO TENSE BEFORE. GAVE ME A RIGHT *SSSTOMACHACHE*."
Alastor
So it was intentional? Alastor's actually relieved to hear it. He'd been afraid that the reason they'd never touched was because Alastor had never initiated—that Sir Pentious didn't *want* to unless Alastor was pushing into his space.
Alastor immediately squeezes Sir Pentious's hand in relief. And then, just, casually, relocates himself to sit closer to Sir Pentious. Not quite close enough to touch shoulders, but enough to make clear that Sir Pentious *totally could* if he *wants* to. Hint hint. "I missed you too!" He gives Sir Pentious a wan smile, then glances away, focused on the table. "Why was it tense?" Unspoken: *what did I do?* "I know why at the *end,* but... that was the end. It doesn't explain the rest of the movie."
Sir Pentious
And touch shoulders he *does*, bumping against Alastor's with his own, still holding that hand as he taps his talons against it to a melody that wasn't playing. "AH, WELL... THAT'SS DUE TO A MISSSSCONCEPTION THAT VALERA HAD ACQUIRED ABOUT YOU, BACK WHEN YOU WERE A TAD *SSSNIPPY* WITH HER OVER THE MUSICAL CHOICESSS. YOU SSEE AT THE TIME, I WANTED TO HEAR HER REASONING."
Sir Pentious waves a hand, "SHE HAD THISS THOUGHT THAT YOU WERE *JEALOUSS* OVER HOW I PRIORITIZED HER INSSTEAD OF YOU! BUT, WELL, I DID NOT THINK THAT SSSOUNDED LIKE YOU AT ALL. OUR RELATIONSHIP ISSN'T LIKE THAT..." Another hand squeeze, "I ASSURE YOU THAT IT ISSS ALL SAID AND DONE, AND SHE HASS SINCE ADMITTED TO HER MISSCONCEPTIONSS. SHE WAS WRONG ABOUT YOU, AS I FIGURED. BUT DURING THE MOVIE, I FEARED THAT JEALOUSSSSY LINGERED IN THE AIR, AND A CERTAIN TENSENESSSSSS BETWEEN YOU BOTH, IT ALL CAME TO A HEAD WHEN THE ARGUMENT SSSTARTED."
A sigh, and he keeps hold of Alastor's hand, but uses his other to pat it, "PARANOIA CAN MAKE FOOLSSSS OF USS ALL. IT HASS BEEN DEALT WITH, REGARDLESS! WE SSSPOKE AT LENGTH ABOUT IT, AND I AM CONFIDENT THAT SHE NO LONGER HASS THOSE MISCONCEPTIONSS ABOUT YOU, ALASSTOR." He beams with pride.
Alastor
A surge of anger pulses through Alastor. "Oh, so she talked to you about that." And in the process made Alastor look bad enough that Sir Pentious hadn't even wanted to touch him. Who was the one acting jealous—
Stop. It was resolved. Valera had apparently admitted her error to Sir Pentious, things were fine now.
"Well. If she didn't already tell you herself, I was snippy *because* of her musical choices. Of every person she picked songs for, I was the only one she singled out to receive songs that, by her own admission, I wouldn't like!" A pause. "Which *sounds* insignificant, but coming from one aficionado of musical theater to another, it's a grave insult! Particularly since our both being in musical theater means she *shares* my tastes. Honestly, I'm amazed she thought that thing had anything to do with you." He bumps Sir Pentious's shoulder. "What kind of a poor friend would I be if I got jealous over a man spending time with his own fiancée! I can assure you that all the tension was one-sided."
Sir Pentious
"IN TRUTH, I HAVEN'T THE FOGGIEST WHAT YOU TWO TALKED ABOUT--I DECIDED IT WASSN'T ANY OF MY BUSINESS! BEING CAUGHT BETWEEN THAT WAS SSOMETHING I'D NOT LIKE A REPEAT OF." An uneasy smile, but he bumps right back. "YESS, YOU AND VALERA BOTH HAVE QUITE A LOT OF MUSICAL TASSSSTESSS IN COMMON! SSSUPPOSE IT WAS SSIMPLY PARANOIA GETTING TO HER." He clears his throat, "I KNOW THE FEELING. IT CONVINCESSS MYSELF OF MADNESS AND SSPINSS LIESS AS THE TRUTH WITH SSSUCH *CHARISMA.*... AND MAKESS MONSSTERSS OF THE ONESS I CARE ABOUT."
Oh hey LOOK AT THE TIME! It's time to pour himself some bourbon.
Alastor
If Sir Pentious doesn't want to be in the middle, then Alastor has no right to drag him back in; the sentences he'd been lining up to try to explain his side die in his throat. And anger flares back up again—it's all well and good that Valera apparently resolved it, but it sits like a lump in his gut that the only narrative of the situation that lives in Sir Pentious's head is whatever Valera deigned to tell him. It's harder this time to swallow the anger down.
He wrestles with his words, trying to pare everything he wants to say down to something small enough to squeeze out without adding unduly to Sir Pentious's burden, "I don't know what she told you—or has *been* telling you—but after our conversation, I can fairly confidently state that she's been wrong about... just about *everything* she's thought about me for months." He grimaces. "I wish I could say more than that, but I don't know what all she claimed about me—she didn't mention that she'd said anything to you at all! And I'm not going to ask."
He picks up a glass and holds it out. Give him some too.
Sir Pentious
He pours bourbon for Alastor, as well, and studies the deerman's expression.
"WELL, PERHAPSS YOU CAN SHED SSSOME LIGHT ON YOUR PART, ALASSSTOR? BECAUSE WHAT I MENTIONED BEFORE, WITH HER ASSUMING THAT YOU WERE JEALOUS, WELL THAT WAS THE FIRSSST I'D HEARD OF IT! WHICH WASS WHY I WAS CAUGHT OFF GUARD. I DIDN'T HOLD YOU OR PLAY WITH YOU AS USUAL, BECAUSE I HAD SSSSURMISED THAT IT MIGHT HAVE BEEN UPSSSETTING TO *HER*... ALTHOUGH WHEN I MENTIONED IT TO HER, SHE SSSEEMED UPSSET THAT I'D THOUGHT TO DO THAT AT ALL."
His tongue hangs out like he's exhausted, "SSO MY EFFORTSS TO QUELL A SSSITUATION I DID NOT UNDERSSSTAND CLEARLY DID NOT DO MUCH, EXCEPT MAKE YOU FEEL UNWANTED, I IMAGINE."
Alastor
Half the tension leaks out of him as the implicit gag order is lifted, he can explain his side now.
"You imagined correctly." He shifts uncomfortably in his seat. "Truth be told, I... well, I spent half the movie wondering if I'd said something wrong, or if you'd *never* wanted to touch me and I just somehow hadn't noticed because I'd always been the one to initiate it. I was sure that couldn't be true, I try not to initiate, but... well, like you said, paranoia makes monsters." He leaves it unstated that in this case, the one paranoia had made a monster of was himself.
"She—somehow got it into her head that every single thing I said and did to her was loaded down with a subtext of veiled hostility and threats. Which is ludicrous! Not only do I have nothing against her, but I wanted to be her friend! Which is a rare occurrence! I don't meet many people that make me go, 'Now, *there's* someone who'd fit perfectly into my little social circle!' I don't put in an effort that often! And when I do, it's..." He struggles with his words for a moment. "I'm usually—*good* at it. *Very* good at it. I used to be, anyway."
He pulls his hand back so he can cross his arms tightly, compensating by leaning more heavily on Sir Pentious. This was easier to talk about when he was angry. Now, he finds, it just hurts.
Sir Pentious
Oh... Sir Pentious tilts his head as Alastor speaks, considering his own thoughts. Should he tell him his own *guesses* as to why? or would that just make everything worse? It was hard to say--Valera and Alastor were both quite *sensitive* in their own ways. Sometimes, he'd say something that would get a negative reaction out of them and it would take the serpent a moment to reevaluate what he said and how it could have affected them!
So, for the moment... he slides his tail around the back of Alastor, puts an arm around his shoulders, and pulls the Radio Demon to his side. He'd rest his chin on Al's head, but he wasn't looking to *stab himself through the skull* with those antennae.
"YOU HAVE A BIT OF A REPUTATION, YOU KNOW. AT LEASSST DOWN HERE. YES, IT ISSS TRUE THAT VALERA DOES NOT HAVE THAT SSSAME UNDERSSTANDING BUT... PERHAPSSS MY PARANOID DELUSIONSS FROM MONTHSSS AGO SSANK INTO HER UNDERSTANDING. OR! PERHAPSS IT'S YOUR SMILE, YOUR SSSTATIC GRIN!"
He takes out his phone, and types in a sentence. "Hello, stinky." he types into it, and then adds a simple :) smiley face, "LOOK AT THISSS, ALASTOR. ARE YOU AWARE OF THISSS PHENOMENON?"
Alastor
He starts slightly when he feels himself being embraced. Is—is he being... comforted? It feels weird. He leans into it.
He groans. "I know I do." There are very few things he regrets, but his rampage when he arrived in Hell is constantly hovering on the verge of making the list. Nothing he's done or refrained from doing since then has ever let him move past it. "But she doesn't have that context! She shouldn't, anyway."
Alastor looks at the example, is immediately self-conscious, and lightly elbows Sir Pentious. "You'd better not be mixing a jab in with your example, I smelled fine before you got me sweaty." He'd managed to squeeze in a quick shower amidst scrambling for food. He'd been showering a lot more since he'd started hanging out with Sir Pentious. "Yes, I know, smile when you insult someone and it's all the more biting. I know that! I understand the nuances and subtleties to a smile! You don't wear the same facial expression for eighty-seven years without learning its limitations inside and out! I'm *good* at telegraphing whether I like or despise someone, when I want to. And I wanted to."
Sir Pentious
"SSS, SSS, SSS!" Sir Pentious snickers through his teeth, and flicks one of Alastor's ears with a talon, "YOU DON'T SSSMELL. I'D BE ABLE TO TASTE IT ALREADY!" Weird thing to say but he is a snake. He swivels is head around, long neck allowing him to look Alastor around the front without moving the rest of his body. You're friends with a *noodle*, Alastor.
"WHEN WE FIRSSSST BEGAN MEETING, EVEN AFTER THE LETTERSSSS AND THE PROMISSSSESSSS... IT TOOK ME SSSOME TIME TO FEEL COMFORTABLE AROUND YOU, AND IT WASSS BECAUSE I COULDN'T HELP BUT READ ALL OF YOUR SSSMILESS, DESSPITE YOUR MOVEMENTSS AND YOUR VOICE, AS *A THREAT.*" He gestures to his phone again, "TAKE THISSS SMILEY FOR EXAMPLE. YOU WOULD THINK THAT THISSS SMILEY FACE WOULD CREATE A SSSENSE OF CAMRADERIE AMONGSST THE ONLINE TEXTING COMMUNITIESSS, BUT APPARENTLY, IT ONLY CREATESSS A SSSENSE OF *DREAD.* A SSORT OF... PASSIVE AGGRESSION!"
He leans back a bit, tapping a claw to one of his fangs, "AND THAT COULD VERY WELL BE WHY, ALASSSTOR. SHE MUSSST THINK THAT YOUR SSSMILEY FACE IS A THREAT, IN HER MIND! I KNOW WHEN I SSMILE AS YOU DO, IT ISSS USUALLY BECAUSE I WANT TO SHOW OFF MY *TEETH.*" And he does it right then, too, beaming.
Alastor
"I *know!* The fact that it's threatening is one of the reasons I do it! But I can get *past* that instinctive reaction with most people when I choose to! Unless I'm just—just... losing my edge."
He sighs. He looks tired.
Sir Pentious
Sir Pentious puts the phone away--or in this case just fumbles it briefly and lets it bounce on the table. It's fine. He clears his throat, "WELL, I KNOW THISS MUCH... I BECAME *MUCH* MORE ABLE TO TRUSST YOU WHEN I COULD *TOUCH* YOU, ALASSSTOR." All of his eyes are looking away, "USUALLY I HATE THAT KIND OF THING BUT... PERHAPSSS IT MADE YOU MORE *REAL* TO ME." To punctuate his thought, he takes hold of Alastor's hand again and squeezes it.
"VALERA AND I HIT IT OFF RATHER WELL, BUT ONLY AFTER WE TOUCHED... AND SHE AND I ARE VERY ALIKE, AS WELL, IN OUR WAYSSS.... PERHAPSSS THAT'SS THE KEY!" He laughs behind a hand, "NOW I AM NOT SSSSUGGESTING YOU GO AND FONDLE MY WIFE, ALASSSTOR, BUT PERHAPSSS OFFERING HER YOUR HAND MIGHT EASE SSSOME OF HER WORRIES?"
Alastor
He squeezes Sir Pentious's hand, glad to have it back. "More real?" He laughs weakly. "What was I before then, a ghost? A disembodied voice in a box?"
The corners of his mouth curl down. "It's a ridiculous price to pay just to prove I don't detest her! And I *have* held her hand before—apparently it didn't do any good."
Sir Pentious
"PERHAPSSS YOU SHOULD CONSIDER GROWLING SSCALESS AND LOSING THOSE LEGSSS OF YOURS. MIGHT I SSUGGESST SWAPPING THEM OUT FOR A TAIL INSSSTEAD? HA HA!" He purrs, taking hold of his glass.
Alastor
"Oh, I couldn't do that! I'd miss tap dancing and shaving too much." Laugh track. He's gonna just, subtle cuddle further into that purr. And slide his free arm around Sir Pentious. Alastor's got Sir Pentious's tail around him, reciprocating with an arm is fair game, right? He hopes so. It feels nice.
Sir Pentious
He's not about to push him away, anyway. Sir Pentious' tongue flicks out, wiggling in front of Alastor's face before he sucks it back in, "I FEEL FOR YOU, ALASSTOR, THAT THINGSSS ARE *BUMPY*. I DON'T REALLY KNOW THE FIX--IT ISSN'T LIKE ADJUSTING UNEVEN BOLTS OR REBUILDING THE BOILER ROOM FROM SSSSCRATCH BECAUSE THE ORIGINAL OWNERS OF THIS BUILDING HAD ZERO IDEA WHAT THEY WERE DOING." Ahem, "*PEOPLE* AREN'T MY EXPERTISE, NOT AT ALL. I THINK, IT COULD JUSST BE, THAT VALERA MAY NEED TO FIGURE YOU OUT ON HER OWN, PREFERABLY WITHOUT HURTING HERSSSELF OR YOU."
Alastor
"There's nothing *to* fix." Alastor shrugs ruefully. "She misunderstood; I explained; now she doesn't misunderstand. There's nothing else to do about it now."
Sir Pentious
"YOU COULD ALWAYS BREAK INTO SSSONG, I'VE HEARD THAT HELPS." He beams, knocking his glass against Alastor's a touch.
Alastor
He grimaces more, then shifts enough to put his glass on the table out of range before curling back up. He doesn't want to drink right now.
"The issue is—It's—To use your metaphor, it's fine to fix a boiler that some other incompetent idiot built—but what if the boiler that breaks down is one *you* designed and built? It doesn't matter that you can fix it, that doesn't solve the real problem—that you messed it up in the first place. You pride yourself as an engineer and inventor, what does it say about you if you ruined a mere, simple boiler?"
Sir Pentious
When Alastor curls back up, it dawns on Sir Pentious suddenly that they were actually talking very seriously about this. It wasn't that he was totally oblivious, but it clearly stopped being a discussion, and now, the Hellish Gentleman had to find some way to comfort his friend. Of all the scenarios to find himself in, comforting the Radio Demon had never really crossed his mind. ... Or had it? He did want to go drinking with Alastor, after all. Hmm.
He gets a little quiet, placing his own glass against the table and leaning back. Time to sink down to the floor, taking the deerman with him. "...I'd argue that--I have more experience with *that* particular example than *you* do, Alassstor. The leak is always in the same place, no matter how many timessss I repair it."
Alastor
Oh, okay, they're sliding off the couch now. Down they go. He repositions himself once they're on the floor.
He wasn't expecting to *look* for comfort from Sir Pentious. He's not even sure that *is* what he's doing—his only goal had been to make himself understood, nothing more. But here they are.
"Well, that's... Everyone has their weak points, of course. But this *isn't* one of mine. At least, it hasn't been before. So I can't help but wonder if I..." He trails off. "I think I'm repeating myself. I apologize, I'm sure that's boring."
Sir Pentious
"ALASSSTOR, IF I THOUGHT YOU WERE BORING, I WOULD HAVE *LEFT* ALREADY!" And he flicks his ear again, "I AM *KIDDING.* I DON'T MIND TALKING TO YOU ABOUT THISSS, BUT I DO KNOW THAT I DON'T KNOW HOW MUCH HELP I CAN *BE.* I AM SSSTILL NAVIGATING MYSELF THROUGH ALL OF THIS... IT'SS HARD TO KNOW WHAT TO DO WHEN THINGSSS YOU WORK ON BREAK! BUT I HAVE LEARNED THAT PEOPLE ARE NOT LIKE *MACHINESSS*, FOR BETTER OR FOR WORSE."
He squeezes that hand again, "TELL YOU WHAT! I WILL ASSSK VALERA FOR YOU! HOW ABOUT THAT?"
Alastor
Alastor doesn't laugh. He knows it's true, even if Sir Pentious doesn't. Of course they wouldn't be friends if Alastor was boring. If he was boring, he wouldn't even be *Alastor* anymore.
"No. There's nothing you need to ask her, what could you possibly ask her? It—I'm hardly even talking about Valera at this point, this has nothing to *do* with her except that she inadvertently uncovered a problem I already suspected!"
Sir Pentious
His face falls at that-- and he looks in a different direction. A short inhale with a bit of a louder *exhale...* He didn't know what Alastor was going on about, overall, due to him not being as talkative as usual.... so Sir Pentious just curls around him, allowing Alastor to essentially sit on the cinnamon roll that was Sir Pentious.
"WELL, I AM NOT DEVELOPING TELEPATHY ANY TIME SSSOON, MAN. IS HELL GETTING TO YOU, AFTER A HUNDRED YEARSSS?"
Alastor
"*Exactly!* That's exactly it!" He sits up a little to look at Sir Pentious directly. "*Is* it getting to me?! Has it—has it been getting to me since the day I arrived? I'm a *radio host*, damn it, people *like* me, they've *always* liked me—but they've *never* liked me in Hell, because I—I precluded the possibility of that on my very first day! I can say it was my own fault, but I, I don't think it entirely *was*, I think that's what Hell *does,* it conspires around you to make you... trip and stumble into doing whatever it is that will make them suffer the most, tricks you into orchestrating your own divine punishment. And my worst—part of my worst punishment would be—*losing* that! Being a radio host! All my charisma, my charm, everything my audience loved me for! I already lost my audience, I took care of that my first day, but what about the rest of it? That likability? I always *feel* the weight of Hell on me, I don't think *everyone* feels it so clearly but I do, I've always been more sensitive to things like that—I think Hell takes something from us, on a spiritual level, slowly, over time. What if this is what it's been taking from me? What if it's going to leave me a—a hackneyed, cheesy, boring... has-been?"
He pauses to take a breath.
Then he winces. "Was that too much?"
Sir Pentious
Oh! Hmm. Sir Pentious sits up at that, though in his efforts he may have disturbed Alastor a little- he brings a hand to his chin in thought, mulling over what the other rambled on and on about. That did seem to allign with his own misgivings about Hell--could they even be called that? Hell certainly sucked! It may not have lined up with the scriptures, but it sure did feel *awful all the time.* No matter how high one climbed, there'd always be something to knock them down.
"FOR ALL THE INVENTING I'VE DONE, FOR ALL THE LEAPSSS AND BOUNDSSS I'VE MADE WITH MY PROWESS AS AN INVENTOR, NOBODY EVER SSSEEEMED TO *CARE* DOWN HERE. I CONTINUED AT IT, OVER AND *OVER* AGAIN, IN TIRELESS PURSUIT OF BEING RECOGNIZED, OF BEING KNOWN!! AND..." A huff, "VERY FEW RECOGNIZE IT, VERY FEW PEOPLE SSSEEM TO GIVE ANY KIND OF *DAMN*. AND NOT TO MENTION ALL OF THE... *ROADBLOCKS*, AS IT WERE... EVERY PERSON WHO KNOCKED ME DOWN SEEMED TO HAVE BEEN DESIGNED PERSONALLY FOR ME! TO HIT ME WHERE IT *HURT MOST.*"
He lies back down, flopping back with his arms out. "... I'D JUST ABOUT GIVEN UP, ALASSTOR. AND THEN.... VALERA CAME INTO MY LIFE, AND THEN I MET YOU, AND... IT'SSS AS IF THINGSSS HAVE PURPOSE AGAIN. I CAN FEEL MY WILL RETURNING--BUT NOT JUSSST THAT... I AM *ACTUALLY* EXCITED TO BLOW UP THIS PUTRID SHITHOLE AND REMAKE IT IN MY IMAGE!!! I FEEL LIKE I HAVE SO MANY OPTIONSSS!"
Sir Pentious sits up a bit once more, looking at the Radio Demon with a smile--not his usual aggressive grin, but a kind smile. "I DON'T THINK OF YOU AS SSOME KIND OF 'HAS-BEEN'-- YOU'VE LIKELY JUST GOT TO FIND YOUR NEW AUDIENCE. AND YOU FOUND ME!!! I TUNE IN ALL THE TIME."
Alastor
He's on pins and needles until Sir Pentious starts talking, not sure if the pile of decades-old fears he'd just dumped on Sir Pentious was going to drive him off. (Is Alastor still worth being friends with if he's not just the two-dimensional entertainment, if he has worries too? Other people might think so—but will Sir Pentious?)
And then Sir Pentious starts talking, and Alastor is spellbound. He has to keep stopping himself from interrupting to agree—because yes, he's observed the exact same thing for decades from watching his own Sir Pentious, yes, he does believe that people are specifically set on collision courses with each other in order to hurt each other as much as possible—so he just nods along enthusiastically to everything he agrees with.
*Purpose.* Alastor takes Sir Pentious's hand again, squeezing it. "I've felt... somewhat the same. I know you don't think much of my own lack of ambition, and I truly don't have any interest in taking over Hell, but—I hope I don't sound too sentimental when I say that watching *you* pursue the crown... it's always been inspiring." His smile's unusually self-conscious.
"Maybe a new audience is all I need. Truth be told, that's the real reason I agreed to Charlie and Vaggie's ridiculous "blog" idea—I was *desperate* for an audience. I suppose at least some good's come of it." He laughs ruefully.
"And yet... I can't quite shake the thought that the only reason the stars aligned to let us be friends is so that some higher power can use it to break us someday." He looks away. "I—sincerely believe—and have for *years*—that I'm one of the people that were designed to hit you where it hurt most. And I'm referring to our respective, parallel... your me and my you. I hope it's not the case with *us.* But if it is, are we going to be able to tell before it's too late?"
Sir Pentious
Sir Pentious brushes his hood back behind his head, then puts both arms around Alastor only to pull him in close and LIE on him. Squish. You get loud Cobra breathing as he mulls over what's said. "I DON'T KNOW--YOU SSSSOUND PARANOID, PERHAPSSS YOU NEED TO RELAX." He beams, "BUT HONESTLY, I DON'T KNOW. I'M... TIRED OF WORRYING ABOUT IT!! I WANT TO... JUSST SSEE, I SSSUPPOSE. I'VE HAD FUN, YOU KNOW. EXPERIENCING THINGSSS AGAIN. AND BEING *EXCITED* TO WAKE UP. IT'SS... ...."
He gets a little quiet again, thinking to those nights of anguish, of screaming and dragging his claws through his own scales. A shake of his head, "WELL, IT'SS REFRESHING, TO SSAY THE LEASST. AND I'M TIRED OF BEING AFRAID OF WHAT *COULD* BE."
Alastor
*Squish.* He hugs Sir Pentious back tightly. "Is it really paranoia when we're in a prison divinely designed to serve as eternal torment?"
But Sir Pentious has a point—Alastor is tired of worrying about it, too. He's tired of the guilt and the grief and the regrets. "I hear you." He holds on a little tighter. "I—haven't had much worth waking up for in a long time, either. It's a nice change."
Sir Pentious
"YOU KNOW WHAT ELSE IS A NICE CHANGE?"
Sir Pentious slaps at the table blindly before giving up, "I WAS GOING TO SAY DRINKING WITH A FRIEND! BUT. I COULDN'T REACH,"
Alastor
Alastor laughs, tries to reach, and finds he's not going to do any better as long as Sir Pentious is pinning him down. "Oh, well. It can wait."
Sir Pentious
Prr prr. Oh well. He's gonna stay like this a little longer until....
"HASSS BEEN.... HAAZZZ.... *OH.* IS THAT WHY THE SIGN SAYS THAT? *HA!*"
Alastor
Ding ding ding. "Isn't that what *most* of the damned are? People who used to *be* something, and aren't anymore? Anyone who comes looking for redemption has just given up on trying to make something of themselves in Hell, too!"
Sir Pentious
"I CAN'T TELL IF IT'SSSS A SSSELF BURN OR NOT, ALASSSTOR.... BUT AT THE VERY LEAST, REDEMPTION! *PAH.* IT COULD NEVER HAPPEN. NEVER!"
Alastor
"*I'm* not at the hotel seeking *redemption.* I'm here to watch the sinners seeking redemption fail spectacularly."
But no yeah it's a self-burn. He's not going to count himself among the has-beens *out loud,* but...
Sir Pentious
Sir Pentious could relate to that. He didn't want to admit it out loud, but! He was a failure, in a lot of ways. Succeed in something, but at the cost of too much else.
He moves to get up in order to grab at his glass.... But then lies down again. "YOU ARE VERY WARM." Reptile here,
Alastor
Alastor laughs. "It's all that mammal blood in me. Are you cold?" He looks around, trying to figure out if the bed's cover is within arm's reach. Nope.
Sir Pentious
"ALWAYSSSS. THE THERMOSSSSTAT WOULD HAVE TO BE CRANKED UP MUCH HIGHER FOR ME TO FEEL *COMFORTABLE*. AND SOMETIMESSSSS, HELL FREEZES OVER, OR AT LEAST DROPSSS TO THE NEGATIVESSSS."
.... "30 DEGREES, YOU AMERICAN." He's smiling smugly~ "DON'T PUT A BLANKET ON ME ANYWAY, I'LL END UP GOING TO SLEEP."
Alastor
His stomach twists at the phrase *hell freezes over*. He compensates by holding Sir Pentious just a little bit tighter. For the moment, he's silent.
Sir Pentious
A blink, another blink. Oh, shit, did he break Alastor? Sir Pentious swivels his head to the side, looking him over.... Blelelelele of his tongue. Concern,,,,
Alastor
Alastor flinches. "Sorry! Sorry, I was just—just thinking." He clears his throat with a noise of a dial flipping rapidly through several stations. "On the day that... when your version of me... betrayed you. Was it cold?"
Sir Pentious
*Oh.* His head lurches back.... And he thinks on it. It was hard to remember, exactly how everything had *felt*.
".... IT WAS A *BLUR*, REALLY... I. DO NOT RECALL IT AS WELL... SAFE FOR THE SSOUND OF VOLTAGE, OF WIRES SNAPPING AND METAL *CREAKING*... FEELING AS THOUGH I WERE DROWNING IN THAT SSSMILE, IN THE SSSTATIC."
But was it cold? "I. SSSORRY, ALASSSTOR. MY MEMORY ISN'T..." He looks embarrassed.
Alastor
"It's fine! It's fine, don't worry about—I shouldn't have brought it up." *His* Sir Pentious had been cold that morning. "You had more important things to worry about." So did Alastor—but he's never forgotten that cold. "Hearing you of all people talk about Hell freezing over, it made me think of—well. Old news."
Sir Pentious
A frown, and a look of frustration. He's not sure what he accidentally *said*, so when he hugs tighter this time, he pinches Alastor with his claws.
Alastor
Alastor just *said* what he said.
He flinches in surprise with a crackle of static. “What are you—?” He pinches back!
Sir Pentious
His hood FLOOPS up! And he lifts himself up some to pin Alastor to the floor, glaring down at him.
"I JUSSSST SSSSAID IT BECAUSE I'M COLD! THAT'SSSS ALL! EVERY TIME I SEE THOSE *CHRISTMAS* COLORS OR SWEATERSSSS I'M REMINDED OF HOW *UNPLEASANT* WINTER WASSS AND HOW IN *MY* HELL, SOME DAYSSSS THE TEMPERATURE JUST *DROPSSSSSS!*"
He presses their foreheads together, with Pentious STARING AT HIM. "THERE WILL BE NO READING TOO MUCH INTO MY WORDSSSSS, ALASSSTOR!!!"
Alastor
His heart leaps up into his throat. “I’m not reading too much into them! It just reminded me, that’s all!” Being flat on the ground with Sir Pentious pinning him down and pressing their faces together isn’t helping him feel any less reminded. And it occurs to him, dangerously, that it would be absolutely *effortless* to tilt up his chin and kiss Sir Pentious.
He’s got to remove *that* temptation real fast. He lunges up, wraps his arms around Sir Pentious, and pulls him back down into a hug again, putting his chin on Sir Pentious’s shoulder. “I hate the cold too. Hell does the same thing here too—three days in a row you can have temperatures of a hundred, zero, a hundred. And that’s an *American* zero.”
Sir Pentious
*BODY HEAT.*
He briefly is tempted to undo Alastor's shirt collar so he can get to his skin, but that decidedly was his animal brain talking. Don't do that.
"AH, YES, THAT SSSSOUNDSSS ABOUT RIGHT. IT DROPSSS SSSO QUICKLY." He pets down his scales, "IT ALSO JUMPSSSS UP SUDDENLY AS WELL... BEFORE I MET YOU OR VALERA, I HAD A DAY OF THE TEMPERATURE CLIMBING *SSSO* MUCH THAT MY BODY BEGAN TO *BUBBLE* AND *BLISTER*...." He winces.
"IT'SSSS A USUAL THING, PERHAPSSSS HELL'S ATTEMPT AT RECREATING THE SSSSUMMER."
Alastor
Alastor also winces on his behalf. “It doesn’t usually get much hotter than a hundred around Pentagram City, what with Lake Cocytus so close—but I’ve heard about weather like that in some of the other circles! Particularly around the volcanoes. When we do get more extreme weather, there’s no rhyme or reason to when it happens—I don’t think our Hell is trying to replicate any seasons, it’s just doing whatever it feels will annoy us most in the moment.”
He’s been laid on enough for now, he thinks. What happens if he tries to, just... sort of... roll them over, so he’s the one laying on top.
Sir Pentious
"THAT MAKESSSSS SSSENSE. WISHFUL THINKING ON MY PART, THEN."
...... He doesn't like being on the bottom! He scrambles to sit up! Tongue flicks, "ARE WE GOING TO DRINK NOW?!"
Alastor
Aw. He ruined it. He ruined the moment. He sits up. “Sure, sure!” He picks up his as yet untouched drink and takes a sip.
Sir Pentious
As he is generally known for doing! Remember the musical number he blew up?
Sir Pentious knocks his glass against Alastor's, "CHEERSSS,."
Alastor
Alastor was referring to himself ruining the moment, actually, because he has learned that all bad things that happen to him are either a consequence of or a comeuppance for his own horrible actions. But if Sir Pentious wants some credit, he can have it.
However, Alastor is still a little chunk of venison surrounded by a big pile of noodles, so it’s not all bad. “Cheers!” Tap. He takes a bigger drink.
Sir Pentious
DULY NOTED.
Penny takes a deep gulp and rubs at his throat, *purrrring* at the burning sensation.
"AHHH, THAT HISSSS JUST RIGHT!"
Alastor
“Only the *highest* quality of the sub-par junk we stock at the bar,” Alastor boasts. If that can be called a boast. “I’ll get some top notch stuff for next time. And I’ll see if I can find some ha... habooshoo? Was that what it was called?”
He sets his drink back down and goes for the food again. Far be it from him to make Sir Pentious drink alone, but if he can help it, he doesn’t want to get drunk this time. He’s enjoying himself too much to want parts of this hangout to go fuzzy around the edges.
Sir Pentious
"AH! THE HABUSHU, YESSS, THAT ALCOHOL JAPONAISE!" He nods a few times, recalling the snake, "MMM, HMMM. I COULD ALWAYSSS ASK KATSSSSU FOR MORE, I'M SURE."
Alastor
“Oh right, *him.*” Katsu keeps coming up and Alastor keeps being mildly surprised every time he comes up. “The one who got promoted from nephew to son. I’ve been meaning to ask about that—are you... actually doing any *parenting,* per se, or is it more of an honorary title?” Katsu seems old enough to take care of himself to Alastor, but they’ve only briefly met in person, and at any rate Alastor has found that the average age of “old enough” has been creeping later and later over recent decades.
Sir Pentious
Sir Pentious makes a bit of a *face*, and reaches instead for the brandy, uncorking (?) it.
"AH, WELL. YOU KNOW ITSSS A BIT UNUSUAL, ISN'T IT? I DON'T KNOW THE BOY TOO WELL. HE MOST ASSUREDLY LATCHED ONTO *ME* RATHER EARLY! BUT I THINK VALERA KNOWSSSS HIM BETTER THAN I DO. WE'VE SSSPENT A LITTLE TIME TOGETHER, BUT HM. I HESITATE TO CALL HIM *MY* SSSON AT THISS JUNCTURE."
Alastor
“*Ah.* Well, that explains a lot. He asked if he could call me ‘uncle’ almost immediately after meeting me.” He makes a bit of a face as well, insofar as he can with a smile on—all squinty eyes and scrunched nose. “I know some people do that out of desperation, and they have my pity, but I detest being on the receiving end!”
He nudges Sir Pentious. “How did Valera end up with him? I’ve been meaning to ask! Last I’d heard, he was calling someone else ‘mother’ and then suddenly here he was hanging around you two!”
Sir Pentious
Look at him, he looks un*comf*ortable suddenly! Sir Pentious rubs the back of his head, before he takes a swig of brandy straight from the bottle.
"OH, I REALLY FEEL AS THOUGH THE DETAILSSSS ARE LOSSST ON ME... VALERA MENTIONED SSSSOME SSSORT OF *ISSUES* BETWEEN MEREDITH AND KATSSSSU.... IT COULD BE A *JOINT* CUSSSSTODY SSSSITUATION?"
He rests his cheek on his palm, looking a little embarrassed, "IF THISSS WAS EXPLAINED TO ME, I... CLEARLY DIDN'T HEAR IT. BUT THE BOY LATCHESSS ON SSSO QUICKLY! I WAS SHOCKED TO LEARN HE WAS EIGHTEEN... WHEN I WAS HIS AGE, I WAS SSSTUDYING MATH IN PARIS."
Alastor
Well, Alastor didn’t want to make him uncomfortable! Would it help if Alastor leans on Sir Pentious again? Because he’s gonna.
Alastor mulls on this and on whether he should mention the misgivings he has about Meredith and people connected to her, when his thoughts immediately flip over to a different station. “You studied in *Paris?* I had no idea! Do you speak French?”
Sir Pentious
It does help. Those idle radio sounds and clicks are enjoyable to listen to so close.
OH! He *beams*, and gestures with a hand, "MAIS BIEN SÛR!" Sir Pentious slips his hood over his shoulder, preening in the attention, "IT WAS AT MY MOTHER'SSSS SSSUGGESTION, ANYWAY. PARISSS HAD MORE OPPORTUNITIES THAN LONDON, AND WHILE I COULD HAVE GONE ANYWHERE, I RATHER WANTED TO GO TO FRANCE." He giggles, "NOTHING MATTERED IN PARIS, EVERYONE WASN'T SSSO *UPTIGHT.* I DARESAY THE THINGSS I LEARNED *THEN* SURELY SHAPED THE KIND OF PERSON I BECAME IN THE LATTER HALF OF MY LIFE."
Alastor
“*J’arrive pas y croire!* You’ve been holding out on me!” Alastor laughs. “Your French sounds so *European.* I should have expected that.” Alastor’s French is... very not European. Not because he has a bad French accent, but because he has an extremely good Cajun accent.
“Oh, *hah!* You and me both, then! Paris, France: the perfect place for young men to find themselves and discover who they’re going to be the rest of their lives!”
Sir Pentious
This topic is much more comfortable to Sir Pentious and he looks full of life once more! No awkward movements or rubbing his neck at all.
"HA! YOUR *ACCENT!* DO IT AGAIN. SSSAY SOMETHING ELSE! IN FACT, HAVE YOU *BEEN* TO PARIS, ALASSSTOR?"
Alastor
“What, what do you want me to—I’ll sing something. *Le seul homme j’aimais il m’a quitté moi toute seule, pour s’en aller avec une autre que moi—*” There’s accordion and guitar in the background. It’s a very raucous song. Alastor won’t subject Sir Pentious to more than that. “Your turn. And sure, I visited Paris during the war! Learned to summon demons there! It was pretty good for both of our educations, wasn’t it?”
Sir Pentious
"VOUS INVOQUEZ DES DÉMONS À PARIS? HAAAAAAA HA HAAAAAAA!" He's clapping his hands together, laughing, "VOUS SSSSSAVEZ, CELA SSSEMBLE TOUT À FAIT HABITUEL À PARIS! JE PARIE QUE PERSONNEL NE L'A REMARQUÉ!!!!"
OH no, he's laughing so much, this is the best news he's heard. Plus, Alastor's accent is *awful*, but in the most endearing way.
Alastor
Alastor’s cracking up. “You sound like you’re reading from a textbook!” He flings an arm around his shoulders and leans on him more heavily. “*Non, non, pas à Paris.* I *learned* there, but I didn’t *do* it there. My first attempt was out in the trenches. I think I told you about that, didn’t I!—unleashing an imp in the middle of a battlefield?”
Sir Pentious
WHEEEEZE--
"OH, *OH*, I *THINK* YOU DID... ACTUALLY, CURIOUSSSS, I DON'T RECALL HOW THAT *ENDED*!"
Purrrrrr, he's going to take another swig of brandy before offering the bottle to Alastor. This is one happy hell serpent.
Alastor
“Neither do I! I was running a hell of a fever at the time! Or maybe the summoning made me delirious, I’ve never found out which it was. Anyway, I regained lucidity some days later in a medical tent, to get told all about how everything descended into anarchy and half of my surviving unit was in medical with me. Ha! Really exciting stuff!”
And deeply traumatic! He’ll accept that brandy, thank you. Sip! “There was no mention of an imp—so I don’t know if *they* caused all that chaos on my behalf, or if they were just unlucky enough to get summoned by a half-mad rookie occultist just in time to get gassed with the rest of us.”
Sir Pentious
"HMMMM... GASSED. OH! THE MUSTARD GAS? I WAS DEAD LONG BEFORE THAT GREAT WAR, BUT ONE DOES HEAR THINGS, EH!" He squeezes Alastor's shoulder.... Comforting? It was a long time ago, but talking about such things probably warranted some comfort.
"NASSSTY SSSSTUFF, THAT. PERHAPS I SHOULD ADD IT TO MY REPETOIRE!!" He winks. It's a very obvious wink, like the kind one might see in a movie to tell *I am Joking*.
Alastor
Oh! Is he being reassured? He doesn’t need it (he doesn’t think he needs it) but under the circumstances wow does that feel nice. Gonna lean more into that touch. Like a sunflower twisting toward the sun, he is. “Mustard, ketchup, sauerkraut—the works! I don’t remember that part, if I was even there for it—fever, see—so all I can do is assume. It was *probably* mustard gas, unless it was something more demonic.”
Alastor huffs. “In all seriousness, it would certainly be effective! The stuff’s bad enough it was banned after the Great War! The concept of war crimes has always been... *amazing* to me—how bad does an activity have to be before it’s made illegal to perform during the worst activity a group of humans can participate in?” He winks at Sir Pentious, “Anyway, *I* don’t mind a war crime or two, as long as I’m not on the receiving end.” Alastor thinks this is a normal supportive friend thing to say.
Sir Pentious
It is a very supportive friend thing to say!! If your friend is Sir Pentious. He is grinning headboob to headboob!!!
"HA!!! THEN WITH YOUR, AHEM, *BLESSING.* I'D GIVE YOU SSSOME WARNING AHEAD OF TIME BEFORE *PAINTING THE TOWN YELLOW.* NYA HA HAAAAAAA!" He is so very loud.
Another gulp of brandy, and his head sways a little. Buuuuuzzed.
"YOU SHOULD TEACH ME SSSOME OF YOUR BASSSTARD FRENCH. CA... CAGING?? CAGING FRENCH. THAT ONE. AND I'LL TEACH YOU *TEXTBOOK FRENCH.*"
Alastor
“When you’re ready to launch an attack that massive, I’d hope to be on board to watch with you!” ... Is that over the line? He can’t just invite himself along on one of Sir Pentious’s raids. He could have with the one he used to know, but, here...
Don’t overthink it. He’s gonna sip a little more of his drink. “Bastard French *indeed.* Cajun is a perfectly pristine, utterly respectable French. Just not the kind of French they teach in France to *English* students. And I already speak textbook French, thank you!” He puts on a robotic-sounding accent, like a student reciting pre-memorized foreign language phrases. “‘*Bonjour, monsieur ! Excusez-moi ! Je m’apelle Pierre-Paul-Jacques. Comment allez-vous ?*’ Hah!”
Sir Pentious
Sir Pentious *cackles* madly, SLAPPING Alastor on the back. TEARS man, TEARS! He clears his throat, then lifts his hands up, imitating Alastor's ears.
"HELLO, *MON CHERE*! SSSSALUT, SSSSALUT!! PASSSS *LE GUMBO!*" He grins playfully!
Could be vaguely offensive, but you know. Hell.
Alastor
He simultaneously tries not to grimace and tries not to smile harder. "Your accent is abominable, couyon."
Sir Pentious
HEE HEE HEE. *HEE HEE HEE!* Sir Pentious looks so pleased with himself.
Alastor
SHOVE. But it's a light shove. Friendly shove.
He immediately closes the distance again. "In France, when we had to deal with the locals, they usually asked me since I was already fluent—in a manner of speaking. Wanna know all the words that got me weird looks in Paris??"
Sir Pentious
Sir Pentious looks to Alastor, leaning on his hands and *purring* in that horrific way of his, his hood lifting to drape itself upon the other's head. Flompf.
"YESSS, MY *MAN.* TELL ME, TELL ME!"
Alastor
“Very well! One time I got five men to stop and stare at me when I proposed hosting a *fais do-do,* we should start there!”
And so for the next he-can’t-even-keep-track-of-how-long, he pulls out as many obscure and local terms as he can think of—until they drift off on a trail of other topics. The only way Alastor is keeping track of the fact that time’s passing at all is by his gradually emptying glass and the dwindling quantity of food. He can’t remember the last time he had this much fun.
Sir Pentious
Alas, all fun times must come to an end! Sir Pentious finally has hit his limit for social interaction....he puts a hand to Alastor's shoulder, his body swaying some as he begins to uncoil himself.
"WELL, ALASSSTOR... I BETTER BE GETTING BACK TO MY SHIP. I HAD A *GOOD* TIME WITH YOU! NEXT TIME, I'LL BE SSSOBER ENOUGH TO GET THOSE MEASUREMENTSSSSS."
Alastor
Alastor tries his best to steady Sir Pentious. Which is a bit of a challenge, considering that Alastor is drunk and Sir Pentious is a slinky that’s twice as drunk and twice as tall. “So did I!” Alastor squeezes the elbow he’s been helping support.
He really did have a good time. For the first time since he met this Sir Pentious, he didn’t feel like he had to be on his best damn behavior, careful of every single word and action, triple checking every sentence’s implications to ensure he was neither about to accidentally trod on Sir Pentious’s brittle ego nor about to get unacceptably affectionate... This was how it was supposed to be. They’d finally gotten everything right.
“You could have gotten those measurements *before* you got drunk, you know.” He winks. “But if you want another excuse to butt around with me, I’m not going to complain.”
Sir Pentious
He purrs and pretends to look offended, "WHAT! NOOO, I COULD NOT HAVE-- I DID NOT BRING MY MEASURING EQUIPMENT." Which he totally has. He giggles drunkenly, starting to slither toward the door, blinking hard to make sure he wasn't bumping into anything. He was, but whatever.
"BUTT AROUND WE SHALL, ALASSSTOR!"
Alastor
Maybe Alastor oughta help Sir Pentious with the door. He’s just gotta get to the door before Sir Pentious does. He’s halfway through climbing over the bed to try to reach the door first when he *remembers* something, loses his balance, nearly face plants, somehow manages to keep his feet and stumbles forward to pose himself with his elbow propped against the wall like he totally meant to do that. “Before you go! I’ve got something to say.”
Sir Pentious
~~Alastor I'd die for you.~~ Penny blinks, his head swiveling a little in place as he looks to that very elegant pose from Alastor. Tongue flicks. "HMM??? WHAT ISS IT?"
Alastor
“I...! Ahh.” Now he’s actually got to *say* it. That’s embarrassing as hell.
But what would be more embarrassing would be *looking* like he’s embarrassed, so he rallies himself and says, “When you came over, you were expecting to get drunk and wrestle a buck, not necessarily in that order! You *weren’t* expecting an unplanned therapy session wherein I drag up a good fifty-odd years of... concerns, about the environmental effects of Hell. But you took it gamely and responded in kind, and I... well... Thank you.”
Sir Pentious
His eyes are doing a weird thing, but it's mostly because he's trying to keep Alastor in his focus. Sir Pentious strokes his chin a little, and he waves a hand, "IT WASSSSN'T THERAPY, ALASSSSTOR. I WAS LISTENING TO YOU HAVE A TALK ABOUT YOUR *FEELINGSSSS.* AFTER ALL, YOU'VE HEARD ME PRATTLE ON ABOUT THINGSSSS BEFORE, WHAT KIND OF *SIR* WOULD I BE IF I DIDN'T LISTEN IN KIND???" What a development. He reaches over to pull Alastor into a very drunken hug, "ANYWAY, YOU ARE WELCOME, MY DEAR CHUM! THANKSSSSS FOR PREPARING EVERYTHING ON SSSSSUCH SHORT NOTICE! I HAD A VERY GOOD TIME."
Alastor
He melts into the hug. It’s so *nice.* “So did I. The best time in years.” He pulls back, grinning a *real* grin, and looks Sir Pentious over. “Do you need help getting home?”
Sir Pentious
Hmmm... Does he? All his eyes are blinking at different times.
".... YOU KNOW, PERHAPSSSSS I DO. THE SSSTAIRSS ARE NOT SSSOMETHING I AM LOOKING TO NAVIGATE."
Alastor
“Come on!” He slings an arm around Sir Pentious’s back to help keep him steady. “I think I can do something about those stairs.”
(The “something” is temporarily turn them into a slide. This definitely won’t end badly and he won’t regret it at all.)
Sir Pentious
Prr prr prr... He's going to head out into the hallway with Alastor in toe... Yes, surely. This won't end badly. Like forgetting that he changed the stairs into a slide later.
Alastor
Surely not.
And out they go, headed home.
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Dog Days
Pairings: Crowley x Reader
Warnings: Swearing
Work Count:4,583
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Hello, (Y/N).” Rowena snarled in disgust the moment she suddenly and unwelcomingly appeared in your car. You screamed at the unexpected intrusion from your hated mother-in-law and jerked your wheel instinctively in an attempt to get away from the evil woman despite the fact that she was sitting in your car. You tried to correct your action but your tire caught a pothole at just right angle, sending you and your car flipping twice through the air across the back country road you had been traveling on to visit your brothers and landing right side up head first in a tree. You didn’t lose consciousness and in your initial assessment, nothing felt broken.
“What the hell, Rowena?” you screeched as you turned quickly but gently toward the woman who hated you with a passion. “What do you want?!”
“Oh, nothing dear. I just wanted to see my favorite daughter-in-law.” She responded, the sarcasm dripping from every word as she looked at her nails absentmindedly. “It appears I have caught you at the perfect time.” She snarled and looked at you, a wicked smile spreading across her face. “Now, we both know perfectly well that you do not deserve to sit next to Fergus on the throne and since neither of you will listen to reason I am taking matters into my own hands.”
“No!” You screamed as you attempted to scramble to get out of the car but she raised her hands in front of her instantly. “In canibus!” she screeched and your entire body felt like it was on fire, as you shrank into the seat and your world turned black and while.
“Crowley!” you screamed, desperate to call your husband to your aid but the only thing that came out was a high pitched yip. You whipped around to your mother-in-law. “What have you done?!” you said as she sat and laughed but the only thing you were met with was more yips. When she finally was able to stop laughing she looked down at you.
“See, I always saw you as a yappy little bitch. So, I made you one.” She said as she pat your head and with a sickening laugh, she was gone. You looked down to see what she had meant and you saw two (Y/H/C) paws where hands should be.
“What the hell?” you screamed and obnoxious yips met your ears as you scrambled the best you could to find a reflective surface. The moment you did, you were met with a pair of (Y/E/C) eyes on the face of a Yorkshire terrier. You literally growled as you went to reach for your phone and realized that there was no way you could make a call. Even if you could get to your phone, it was locked by a fingerprint passcode so there is no way you could get into your contacts. You started to scream which came out as a pathetic howl as you sat in your car trying to figure out how to get out of this mess. You begged Crowley and prayed to Cas for a while before you realized you weren’t going to get anywhere before you finally resolved to do something.
You were a 2 and a half hour drive from the bunker where your brothers lived so they would know you had gone missing but you didn’t want to wait from them to send out the search party. So you came up with a plan. You wiggled your little furry body in your steering wheel and grabbed the photo you loved of you and your husband for your very first date.
You had begged him to do one of those old time, black and white photos at a fair you had dragged him and the boys to after a hunt and after a lot of threats and grumbling on his part he finally conceded. You had on a very revealing saloon girl dress and Crowley had gone full out, donning the hat, gun belt and floor length tan trench coat. You did your absolute best to ooze as much sex appeal as possible for the photo, causing Sam and Dean to laugh at you and try to make you laugh and right as the photo was taken, you couldn’t hold your strong, impassive face and you broke out into a large smile at something Dean said and you were starting to lean forward into your laugh.
But that isn’t why you loved this photo. You loved it because the entire time Crowley had been getting ready for the photographer to get the shot set up; he had a giant angry pout on his face. He didn’t flirt with you when you tried and he didn’t even act disrespectfully when you walked out scantily clad in the feather dress. But when the boys made you laugh, he couldn’t stop the smile that crossed his face as the sound warmed his heart and when the photo was taken, he was staring at your face, his small, genuine smile permanently captured in the photo you had grabbed gently in your new canine teeth.
You pulled back out of the steering wheel and set the photo gently on the seat before you hopped over the middle console and on to the floor board of the passenger side of the car. You bit the bottom of your purse, up ending its contents to mix with the pieces of broken window glass and jumped up and added it to the driver seat. You looked back over at your stuff on the floor and saw your driver’s license lying on top of a copy of Romeo and Juliet you had borrowed from the bunker.
‘Perfect.’ You thought to yourself as you jumped back down to grab them. When you scanned the pile once more, you realized that here wasn’t much else you needed that you could carry and you began the task of trying to get the three items in your bag. After 20 minutes of struggling, you had your purse ready and you managed to drop it out of the car before you jumped out of the car behind it to start your long trek to get home.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Have you found her?” Crowley raged at the lowly demon that had just entered the throne room. You had been missing for three days and he was absolutely beside himself. The man shook his head.
“Not exactly.” The man said. “But there is… well…” the demon said and Crowley shot off his throne.
“Speak, damn it!” he roared and the demon cowered, looking down at the ground as he took a step back.
“Sir, a demon reports that a photograph of you and her has been added to a crossroads box; however, she was not there when he went to make the deal.”
“I’ll see to it.” Crowley growled as he ran out of the throne room praying that he was about to finally find you.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“This better work.” You though to yourself as you sat in the middle of the crossroads shivering. You had been traveling for three days, dragging your purse behind you, trying to find a crossroads box. This was the 7th crossroads you had come across since your car crash and the first one that had a summoning box in it. You had barely eaten anything other than garbage scraps and your tiny dog body was wearing thin.
The first demon showed up nearly instantly and you hid from him. You knew using the picture of you and Crowley was bound to get someone’s attention and that Crowley would be notified quickly about the situation of his picture being added to a box. When the first demon disappeared you grabbed the non-broken strap of your purse and weakly pulled it to the middle of the road, dumping the book and your ID onto the ground and sitting down behind it. It was only a moment later before your husband finally showed up. The moment he appeared you sprinted to him, yipping and jumping at his ankles briefly before running back to grab your stuff.
“What in the bloody hell…?” Crowley asked as he watched the tiny, dirty little rat dog run up to him excitedly and then scamper off toward some junk on the ground. He looked around, desperately trying to find you as the dog yipped annoyingly in front of him. “(Y/N)!” He called as he looked around and the little rat came running back over to him, grabbed his pant leg in its mouth and pulled with all its might, its sharp little teeth ripping the suit material.
You let go of his pants quickly once you realized you had ripped them and cowered, scurrying quickly back to the pile of your things. You knew Crowley hated tiny dogs and you knew since he didn’t realize that you were his wife and not actually a dog, there was a good chance that in his anger, he may kill you unknowingly. You felt defeated, lost, hopeless and scared and you gave up. You scampered into your purse to hide like you had for the past 3 nights and started to cry. It was in that moment, Crowley saw your purse.
“It’s not possible.” He said as he crossed the road and bent down next to the tiny creature cowering in the bag. He had bought you that bag for your birthday and recognized it instantly. He looked at the two pieces of what he thought was trash and saw your ID and a book. He picked it up, flipping it over in his hand and chuckled. “Smart girl.” He said with a whistle and his giant hellhound appeared by his side. Your dog instincts kicked in and you looked up at the sound of the whistle and saw your favorite hell hound towering over you. You scrambled out of the purse to get to her.
“Juliet, it’s mommy. Please tell me you can understand me.” You watched her head tilt to the side in confusion as your familiar voice came out of the tiny beast jumping at her massive feet.
“Mommy?” Juliet asked as she bent down to smell you. You couldn’t help but yip in joy as you attacked her face with kisses and she laid down on the ground in front of you.
“Yes, baby. It’s mama. Please tell papa it’s me. He can’t hear me.” You begged as you ran back and forth between your pet and your husband.
“(Y/N)?” he asked looking at you curiously and you stood against his leg with your paws on his knee, your whole body shaking in excitement. He finally got a good look at the dog’s eyes, your eyes and his entire demeanor changed when he realized he had found you. “Darling, what happened to you?” he asked as he gently picked you up in his arms. You attacked his face with kisses as you relayed your message through Juliet.
“Your fucking mother happened, Crowley. She doesn’t see it fit that I am on the throne so she turned me into a dog. She called me a yippy little bitch.” You said as you started to growl in his arms. His eyes turned red as he listened and he stood up.
“Alright, let’s get you home and get you cleaned up and try to fix this. I can’t undo a spell so we’ll call your brothers.” He said as he cradled you close. You wiggled to try to get out of his arms before he left.
“Wait, Juliet, the picture. Tell him I can’t leave the picture.” You said as you were finally able to jump out of his grasp, and you frantically started to dig up the box.
“Darling, stop that. I can get it.” Crowley said as he snatched you up mid dig. Your paws kept digging in midair as he snapped the photo out of the box. He looked at it fondly as you settled your air digging before putting it in his pocket along with your ID and your book. “I’ll buy you a new purse, my Queen.” He said, kicking your old one to the side as Juliet stood up next to him. He kissed your tiny head and you closed your eyes as he whisked you back home. You sighed as your eyes focused on your bedroom and you snuggled up against Crowley’s chest. He chuckled. “Before you get comfortable darling, you need a bath. No offence intended but you smell like wet dog.” You looked up at him and growled as menacingly as you could and he chuckled as he set you down on the ground.
“Can I get something to eat first? I’ve been nearly starved for three days.” You asked as you sat down in front of him, looking up at his massive frame compared to your tiny body. You whined at him as he glanced at Juliet to listen to what she was saying. “And can you come down here? You’re kinda scary.” He smiled as he crouched down to you.
“What would you like to eat?” he said. You tilted your head back and forth as you thought.
“Juliet, what do you want?” you asked looking over to where she was lying on her bed by your night side table. When you moved into hell she moved into your room and slept there when Crowley was in meetings or out of town, which then turned to an every night thing. She raised her head and looked at you.
“I already ate, mama.” She said and you turned and looked at her as Crowley chuckled at the unheard exchange.
“So you’re telling me that if you could have, say… a big juicy steak right now you would say no.” Her tail started to thump against the floor and you smiled to yourself. She wasn’t typically spoiled but every once in a while you liked to do something special for her and this seemed like one of those times. “Tell papa I want some plain pasta and you want a steak.” You turned back around to your husband who had sat down on the floor and waited until he shook his head with a small smile.
“Fine.” He said and with a snap, two plates arrived. “Darling, while you eat, I’m going to call your brothers and then begin the hunt for my mother.” He said as he got up off the floor and you yipped at him to get his attention.
“Don’t tell them I’m a dog!” you said, as Crowley snapped himself a suit devoid of dog smell. “Just tell them I’m back and we can go surprise them in the morning.” He smiled down at you nodding.
“You are concocting some sort of plan, aren’t you?” he asked and you simply yipped in response. “Alright,” he laughed as he shook his head gesturing to your food. “You eat, and I’ll send the groomer in to get those sticks out of your hair and get you cleaned up.” You growled at him and he put his hands up in the air, his face dropping a little. “I’m sorry, darling. I don’t like this any more than you do but I will fix this.” He said and you huffed in response before turning to your dinner. He sighed as he walked toward the throne room to have the demons drop the search for you and start to find his mother.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Hello boys.” Crowley said as he dropped into the bunker with you held in his arm. You shook your head in an attempt to clear it, sending your fur flying as you fought your tiny body from being sick after the teleporting. As planned, Crowley set you down on the library table where Dean was eating his lunch.
“What the hell is that?” he asked around a mouthful of burger as you pranced happily across the table toward his plate.
“It’s a dragon.” Crowley said cheekily as you pranced up to Dean’s plate taking a French fry and laying down to eat it and just like you knew he would, Dean reacted.
“Hey! Get out of here mutt!” he screamed as he jumped out of his chair, waving his arms at you. You jumped up and growled as viciously as you could as you counted down for Juliet who was standing invisible directly behind him. When you hit three, you opened your mouth to make it appear that you were barking as the loud booming bark of a hell hound came from Dean’s knees. The look of panic that crossed his face was priceless as he threw his burger in the air in fear and scrambled away from you and you rolled on the table as you yipped your ass off in laughter.
“Your sister says that’s what you get.” Crowley responded with a chuckle as Dean and Sam stared at the little dog rolling on the table. Your confused brothers looked at each other.
“Wait, what do you mean (Y/N) says? Where is she?” Dean asked glaring at Crowley who simply gestured at you while you were composing yourself on the table.
“Unfortunately, until we can find a counter curse or my mother, this would be your little sister.” Crowley responded. You got up and walked over to Sam, knowing he would be the one to see it first and you jumped off the table into his lap, placing your paws on his chest and looking into his eyes with your tail wagging happily. He studied you for a minute until he really saw your eyes.
“(Y/N)?” he asked and you yipped in response and attacked his face with puppy kisses. He laughed as he tried to hold you back. Dean came over and picked you up a little too roughly out of Sam’s lap, trying to see what Sam saw in your eyes.
“Crowley, tell him to stop holding me so tight and replace his burger since Juliet ate his.” You said as you tried to wiggle out of Dean’s slightly uncomfortable grasp.
“Squirrel, sit down with her. You’re holding her to tight.” He said as he snapped a fresh bacon cheeseburger on the table. Dean didn’t move to as he took his eyes off the wiggling dog in his hands to stare at your husband.
“You can hear her?” he asked incredulously and you yipped to get his attention to put you down. There was a low growl right next to Dean who jumped to the side as Sam took you back from Dean.
“No, I can’t hear her but Juliet can and I can hear Juliet.” Crowley said as you jumped down off Sam’s lap and pranced back over to Crowley. He picked you up in his arms and absentmindedly started scratching your belly which you had realized that you absolutely adored as the boys attempted to wrap their heads around the situation. “And to answer the unasked question, no, I cannot just snap her back to normal, this is a witches curse.”
“What about Cas?” Dean asked and at the sound of his name, the angel in question flew in.
“What about Cas, what?” he asked in a monotone as he surveyed the room. His eyes feel on you and he cocked his head to the side. “Why is (Y/N) a Yorkshire terrier?” he asked as he approached Crowley. You rolled unladylike in Crowley’s arms to say hello to the angel. He nodded his head at you. “I am doing well, (Y/N). How did you manage to turn into a dog?” he asked as he reached for you and all three men stared at the angel.
“Wait, can you hear me?!” you asked with a yip as he cradled you and he laughed.
“Yes, I can hear you.” He said as he sat down on the floor with you, setting you down right in front of him with his head tilted to the side. Sam, reacted as a memory flooded into his head and he jumped out of his chair.
“Dean, the spell. Do you remember that Inuit spell?” he said as he ran out of the room and you couldn’t help yourself but chase after him barking like mad as he grabbed his bag and returned to the library. “We had a case like two years ago and we had a spell where we could talk to animals.” Sam said as he ripped his bag apart, looking for the old spell.
“Do you think it would work since she isn’t really a dog?” Cas asked as he rechecked the papers on the table as Sam rushed through them.
“Well if Cas can hear me as a dog, but Crowley can’t hear me as a person then I think we have a good chance at it working.” You thought as you bounced at Sam’s leg to get picked up. “Can someone put me on the table please?!” you asked as you bounced.
“Darling, will you just come over here please? You’re too excited to be up on the table right now.” He said as he bent down and reached for you. You snarled at him but went over to him anyways.
“Spoil sport.” You said as he picked you up and he and Cas laughed as Sam found the paper he was looking for.
“Here we go.” He said as his eyes quickly scanned through the list of ingredients before handing the paper to Crowley. “Do you think you can get this stuff?” he asked as Crowley read through the list before nodding.
“Simple enough.” He said as he handed the paper back to Sam and Dean started shaking his head.
“Oh no. No, no, no, no. I am NOT doing that again.” Dean said as he swallowed the last bite of his burger and you laughed to yourself as you looked at him. “That shit tasted like ass and I felt like I had fleas for like a week after.” You growled at him and he looked up at you. “Don’t give me that shit, (Y/N).” He said as he leaned back in his chair. “I’m not doing it.”
“Cas, do me a favor and ask Dean what he keeps hidden in his room.” You said as you rolled over in Crowley’s arms so he would rub your belly again as your husband laughed at the relayed message.
“What do you keep hidden in your room, Dean?” Cas asked innocently, his eyebrow arched and his head tilted to the side and Dean spit his beer out as his face flushed red.
“Fine! I’ll do it!” he said as he jumped out of his chair. “You’re a real pain in the ass, (Y/N). Do you know that?” he growled as he grabbed his lunch plate and stalked toward the kitchen and you yipped at him in response.
“Alright, let’s get this spell started.” Sam said as he cleared the rest of his papers off the table. “Then we can see if we can find a counter spell to Rowena’s curse.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
You had taken to laying on Crowley’s lap to nap while he held court since there was nothing else you could really do this past 2 weeks and today was a just another day in court. The boys had no luck with finding a counter spell and you felt nearly hopeless. You whined a sigh as you listened to the stupid demon in front of you ramble on about soul numbers as Crowley’s fingers continued to absentmindedly run through the hair on your back. However, a familiar sound in the distance outside of the throne room caught your attention and your head popped up off Crowley’s knee as a low growl filled your chest.
“What is it, darling?” Crowley asked as the sound got closer and you stood up on his knees as Rowena’s shrill voice filled the room as the doors flew open.
“This is an outrage! Take your hands off of me!” she shrieked as four demons dragged her into the room and Crowley grabbed you in midair as you leapt from his lap to attack, your little legs flailing as your angry yaps mingled with her voice.
“Darling, stop yapping.” Crowley scolded as he held you to his side, standing from his throne and you rested on his arm and growled as the woman in front of you realized that you had been found and you had made it home. She honestly thought you would be dead by now. “What have you done?!” Crowley roared as the demons shoved his mother to the front of the room.
“Hello, Fergus. I see you bought yourself a little rat.” She mocked and you growled once more as she simply laughed.
“Change her back, mother.” Crowley said as he struggled to hold you still in his arms and she feigned annoyance, looking up at the ceiling.
“I haven’t the slightest idea what you are talking about.” She replied before she was suddenly thrown backwards across the room against the wall and then just as suddenly flying back to where she was just standing.
“Let’s try that once more.” Crowley restated, his voice seething with anger as he walked down the steps to stand directly in front of the witch. “Change. Her. Back.” With no warning and a flick of her wrist you began to howl as you felt like you were on fire once again and Crowley had just enough time to set you down on the floor before you morphed back into your human form. When the heat dissipated, you looked at your hands briefly before standing up completely naked in the middle of the throne room.
“You fucking bitch!” you screamed hoarsely as you lunged at your mother-in-law, getting in a solid right hook to her jaw before Crowley yanked you back, shoving you toward the bedroom.
“Get her out of my sight.” He yelled as he followed you toward the room, dismissing court for the afternoon as you stalked through the double doors you rounded on him the second the door closed.
“Why did you pull me back?” you croaked as he wrapped you in his arms.
“First of all, I will not have the Queen of Hell standing stark naked in the middle of court wailing on my mother.” He said as you huffed and wrapped your arms under his around his waist. “Second, because I didn’t want to wait any longer to do this.” He said as he leaned back slightly to look at you, placing his palm on your jaw and kissing you. You melted into his touch and realized just how much you had missed it in the past couple of weeks. You hummed against his lips as he began to walk you back toward the bed.
“God, I’ve missed you.” You said when your legs hit the bed and you crawled back toward your pillow. As you watched your husband you caught a whiff of dog and you paused looking down at the pillow you had been sleeping on for the past few weeks. “Oh God, it smells like dog!” you croaked as you tossed the pillow across the room away from you.
“Imagine how I felt.” Crowley said as he climbed up the bed toward you hoovering over your naked frame. “Welcome home, pet.” He said with a wink and you growled at the nickname as he closed the distance between you with a bruising kiss.
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LRTIHEW: Part Seven
The title stands for “Longest Rusame Thing I Have Ever Written”.
First Chapter: https://gospacegay.tumblr.com/post/165808913233/lrtihew-part-one
Previous Chapter: https://gospacegay.tumblr.com/post/165878694068/lrtihew-part-six
There is swearing, fluff, eventual smut, insanity, and lord knows what else.
They say a first impression was formed in the first six seconds. Russia was inclined to agree. This Yuri Kozlov was quite forward, with a great handshake. He was handsome too. Impressed, Ivan decided to be less hostile right away. The man's faint Russian accent lacing every word was pleasant to listen to. “Before we get to the meat of things, there is tea and cookies. I hope those are sufficient.” the president continued, loving to hear himself talk, just like Alfred.
“Yes, thank you.” Ivan replied, helping himself to the table between them. Finally, an American president that wasn't a complete dog. After fixing a tea that was more cream and sugar than actual tea, Ivan was ready. “You are quite infamous, Mr. Braginsky. It seems records of you go back at least seventy years. To be truthful, I was expecting a much older diplomat.” the dark haired man began.
“I look good for my age.” Ivan joked, possibly the first in a long time with a politician. They typically had no sense of humour. “What do you require, Mr. Kozloff?” Ivan asked, quick to get started. The new leader's demands were not too insulting. Ivan personally played a hand in all past legal tampering, involved at some stage.
It was entirely reasonable to call upon Ivan when he was directly connected with a few questionable major elections. The American vice president was found rather unsuitable after a tremendous amount of child porn was found on his computer. People really needed to get better firewalls. “... so you understand why I suspect your government.” the president finished, indirectly accusing Ivan of quite a few things. To be fair, he was responsible for a lot of them.
Ivan shook his head in a dismissive matter, offering a apologetic smile. “My government is not well received by most, sir. When my people are straight forward, they are called barbarians. When they approach things with diplomacy, they are ignored. It is natural for the Republic of Russia use alternative methods, yes?” Ivan explained patiently. The president seemed less than pleased by this response.
“However, the Kremlin is quite busy with it's own problems. I do not envy your position of clearing up the vice president's mess.” Russia continued, ignoring the reaction. He chuckled, then pondered out loud “I suppose my bosses would be trying to accomplish the obvious, if they were responsible.”
“Oh, and what is that?” Kozlov asked coldly, eyes narrowed. “To have positive interactions and trade connections of course.” Ivan replied cheerfully. Alfred snorted while seated nearby, as the president looked dumbfounded. “The second largest oil exporter and the largest military paired together. The possibilities are endless!” Ivan answered happily, forgetting to act calm.
“You really are off your rocker this time, Ivan. There's no way in hell that would happen.” Alfred scoffed, forgetting who he was in front of. “Mr. Jones! Do you always speak to foreign diplomats so rudely?” Kozlov scolded, as if talking to a child. “Do not concern yourself. We have known each other a great time. Ours is an unconventional friendship.” Ivan purred, knowing it would irritate America.
“We are totally not friends. You just left me at that bar in Italy. You wouldn't even give me a ride to the hotel. We were staying at the same hotel you ungrateful jack ass.” Alfred argued hotly. “Perhaps you should have not made so many bear jokes, yes?” The Russian hissed, his good mood quickly evaporating. Sometimes he forgot how unbearably annoying Alfred could be. “Maybe if you weren't built like one, I wouldn't have to make them.” The honey blonde bickered. “I am not having this argument again, Alfred.” Ivan sighed, rolling his eyes.
“Fine. I'm getting a slushie then. You want one boss? They have this new vanilla cherry one and it sounds super gross but its actually crazy good.” the younger nation growled, getting distracted immediately. Alfred once again forgot he was supposed to pouting, or sad for that matter. He was a fine actor, but had a terrible attention span at times. Kozlov shook his head, looking baffled. The tanned American shot Ivan a dirty look, then stomped out.
After a minute, the president sighed and rubbed his temples. “That is the first time I have ever seen him act so disrespectfully.” he muttered. “Do not worry, Mr. Kozloff. We have argued for many decades. Like most politics, very little happens.” Ivan assured seriously, not bothering to filter his words. If the man was remotely intelligent, he would connect the dots himself.
“You truly are different from what I expected.” the man replied, looking at Ivan intently. Maybe he was already figuring out what Ivan not so subtly hinted at. After a drawn out conversation about nothing interesting, the big doors to the room swung open. The Russian was grateful for the distraction. “Slushies, oh slushies. Here big guy. I tried to find a shit flavored one for you, but settled for purple.” Alfred teased, shoving a chilled drink in Ivan's hands. “Only because you ate everything else.” Ivan retorted, accepting the frozen treat.
“Jerk.”
“Dog.”
“Eurotrash scum.”
“Stupid cow.”
“Boys! That's enough! Please act like professional diplomats.” the exasperated human leader ordered firmly. Both body guards had seen this behavior for at least ten years, aware of exactly who the bickering nations were. They couldn't care in the least anymore. Ivan hummed in victory at squeezing that last insult in, slipping his flavored ice drink with a straw. It was pretty good.
Alfred grumbled but obeyed his boss's wishes. They were soon dismissed. Naturally they broke into argument before they left the white house. The president was within earshot of it all, just shaking his head. “... I can't believe you would fuckin' say that in front my new boss. You can be such a pig headed, full of shit –” Alfred paused his torrent of poorly formed insults, noticing the other no longer following him to the parking lot. Ivan waited at the edge of the concrete, shifting his feet.
“Aren't you coming?” the younger nation asked. “I have not been formally invited.” Ivan replied pointedly. “When has that ever stopped you from climbing in a window?” the honey blond challenged. The Russian chuckled and shook his head, answering “I was invited on all accounts, so it was not legally breaking and entering.” Alfred rolled his eyes, waving Ivan over. “Let's get going you big stupid vampire. You look like crap after that long ass plane ride.” he replied.
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