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moonwatcher13.bsky.social
moonwatcher13
@moonwatcher13.bsky.social
200 followers 320 following 550 posts
Writer, engineer, video game obsesser. Tired is a state of being nowadays. 🔞
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moonwatcher13.bsky.social
#tobeherox #tbhx #Luoli

Chapter 2 is up and out. Our girl is awake and now the Real fun can begin.

archiveofourown.org/works/723957...
Screenshot of the second chapter of "Iterative Cycles" the To Be Hero X fanfic linked in the post
October 26, 2025 at 4:44 PM
moonwatcher13.bsky.social
#tobeherox #tbhx

I got bit by the brainworms and this is the result.

archiveofourown.org/works/723957...
screenshot of the first chapter of "Iterative Cycles" the TBHX fic linked in the post
October 13, 2025 at 4:48 AM
moonwatcher13.bsky.social
I thought the infinity symbol was meant to imply an endless cycle? At this point, I figure it's either pointing at the whole "Heroes always fight Villians ad infineitum" thing of superhero comics or the endless churn of heroes through the system, rising and falling by other's whims
screenshot from TBHX episode 24 depicting X and Ahu surroudned by falling dominoes in the shape of an infinity symbol
September 14, 2025 at 7:47 AM
moonwatcher13.bsky.social
Sadly, I feel like we're gonna get a combo of massive US government bailouts and the scenario outlined below. The push to implement this EVERYWHERE is so strong and won't be going away because our tech overlords want it to be our new reality so bad.
"As unlikely as this scenario sounds, a version of it happened in the not-so-distant past. In his 2021 book, A World Without Email, the computer scientist Cal Newport points out that beginning in the 1980s, tools such as computers, email, and online calendars allowed knowledge workers to handle their own communications and schedule their own meetings. In turn, many companies decided to lay off their secretaries and typists. In a perverse result, higher-skilled employees started spending so much of their time sending emails, writing up meeting notes, and scheduling meetings that they became far less productive at their actual job, forcing the companies to hire more of them to do the same amount of work. A later study of 20 Fortune 500 companies found that those with computer-driven “staffing imbalances” were spending 15 percent more on salary than they needed to. “Email was one of those technologies that made us feel more productive but actually did the opposite,” Newport told me. “I worry we may be headed down the same path with AI.” Then again, if the alternative is a stock-market crash that precipitates a recession or a financial crisis, that scenario might not be so bad."
September 10, 2025 at 6:06 AM
moonwatcher13.bsky.social
also this scene specifically from episode 21 around the 10-min mark. when Smile shows up for Nice's photo shoot. Why the hell was Smile there? Did someone call him? It feels too useful to be a random coincidence.

That plus the little wave and head-nod Miss J gives.
September 9, 2025 at 5:54 AM
moonwatcher13.bsky.social
Snippet 1 of second chapter of Apex's Apathy.

Stable foundations and solid beliefs are fertile ground for madness, for even-tempered, reasonable people always make the worst fanatics.

@vivianne900.bsky.social
March 20, 2025 at 5:55 PM
moonwatcher13.bsky.social
#ptn #Butlerguard #Sablena
Chapter 2 of False Pretenses, featuring more Sable, Jelena and Elvira struggling with eachother in an environment none truly control.

archiveofourown.org/works/637545...
Salt. Great, heaping, tongue-curdling levels of salt. Muffled somewhat by the chocolate chips and cinnamon mixed into the otherwise perfectly-baked cookies. But still awful. Not that she could say anything, given how Elvira was looking at her with a wide, hopeful smile. Instead she gave a nod. “Pretty good for your first attempt.” A giggle of joy, then a matching bite before Sable could stop her. A moment, two… it may have been Elvira looking at her, but in that moment she wore Jelana’s face. A cold disappointment so complete, so encompassing, that it conjured wretchedness even in an orphan like her. Elvira held her gaze for several moments before turning away and leaving the room, headed towards the stairs to the second floor. Jelena looked at her back, took a bite of the same half-eaten cookie. “Awful.” Sable fled to the basement before she could see the frozen wastes of her gaze, threw herself into hours of maintenance she wouldn’t need for months at least. It mattered not, for pale gray lurked in the back of her mind. The weight of condemnation building till it stilled her hands halfway through a complex realignment of the pseudo-muscle fibers in her hand. If her tear ducts still functioned, she might have wept, insane as the thought was. This was just another job, it shouldn’t- “Why did you lie?” She whirled around, one arm flopping uselessly and almost knocking over the laptop that contained her repair software. Elvira stood at the bottom of the stairs, scared but resolute. Eyes wide as she looked at the exposed wiring of Sable’s arm and chest.
March 18, 2025 at 3:27 PM
moonwatcher13.bsky.social
#ptn #Butlerguard #Sablena
snippet 3 of chapter 2 of False Pretenses.

I love all of these characters so much, especially their masks. Jelena's ever-present agenda, Elvira's decisiveness (see her method for convincing Hecate) and Sable's entombed humanity.
Snippet of text from in-progress story. Begins at next line “-I hate this house. I Hate being stuck here. I HATE YOU!” The screams echoed from the open door of her basement abode, and by the time Sable emerged to survey the damage it was all over. Elvira had fled, though not far given she could faintly hear the sounds of sobbing from the floor above. Jelena remained seated at the kitchen table, head in her hands. “... would it help if I went to her, stayed with you, or went back to my room?” The silence stretched, a minute passing, two, three. Right as she was about to turn around- “Here, for now. Could you make some coffee… please?” Not broken, not yet. But one more good shove would do it. Few things were more corrosive than the anger of a teenager convinced they were right, and unfortunately for Jelena Elvira did have a reason for her rage. She was, in every sense of the word, a prisoner of her father’s paranoia. Doubly unfortunately, Sable had more experience sewing back on severed toes then she did dealing with tantrums. But that wasn’t an excuse to flee, so into the minefield she went. “...If you need something stronger, I have a few things.” Hands fell slowly, eyes considering her for several moments. “No. Alcohol would only lead to me doing something very stupid. Where-” “Beneath a section of concrete that weighs more than you, in a safe with the same kind of locks FAC uses on armories for anti-mania weapons.” A brow rose, questioning. “It's to keep you out, not her.” “Ppfft. Ha. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.” She laughed uncontrollably for several moments, manic and emptying, then stopped just as suddenly. Back beneath the competent Butler mask Sable knew so well. “I don’t drink. Not anymore, since I’d need pills that Stewart won’t pay for to process anything stronger than watered down beer.” Now it was Sable’s turn to raise a brow, then realize the gesture was useless unless she took her faceplate off.
March 17, 2025 at 8:00 PM
moonwatcher13.bsky.social
#ptn #Butlerguard #Sablena
I've narrowed the ship name down.

snippet 2 of chapter 2 of False Pretenses. Don't worry Sable, it'll get better. Eventually.

Elvira: Jelena's not my mother!

Me: Got it, Jelena=Father (or Sir/Daddy for Sable)
snippet of chapter yet to be posted. “I want you to teach me how to fight!” No sooner was the last word past her lips than Sable felt a surge of bloodlust aimed for her throat, there and gone in a single instant as shadows deepened and teal brightened. Message received. “I think Jelena would sell me for scrap if I agreed to that… but I do think you should learn some basic manner of self defense, in case the worst happens. I’ll talk with her about it.” Another flare of light and shadow, then a relenting as Jelena’s face briefly appeared at the top of the stairs. At this point Sable would consider that conversation a success if she left with all her limbs intact. “Ok… oh, do you know how to play games? Jelena’s awful at them!” For a moment the wave of terror receded, replaced with indignation as Jelena glared at her charge, the young miss still totally unaware. Sable forced her face to remain passive as she grabbed Elvira’s hand, halting her desperate digging of their shared grave. “Your father hired me to be your bodyguard, to take care of you. I’d be doing a bad job if I didn’t acquiesce to your requests, whether they be now or in the future.” A blindingly bright smile, gleaming white amongst the gloom when paired with a firm grip that shook her hand up and down. “Pleased to be doing business with you Sable… do you think you can sneak me back to my room without Jelena hearing?” Her brief flash of hope was immediately dashed as Jelena dropped the pretense, marching down the stairs with solid steps, her face a mask of barely restrained anger. Elvira went from calm and controlled to trembling in a moment, knowing it would be weeks before she was allowed to have dessert again. Sable signed, returning the faceplate and resigning herself to a long night of repair work with ringing ears. Time to take their lumps.
March 14, 2025 at 4:16 PM
moonwatcher13.bsky.social
#ptn #Sablena ? #Jelenable ? #Butlerguard
snippet 1 of chapter 2 of False Pretenses.

alright, what's the ship name of Jelena/Sable. Sablena? Jelenable? Butlerguard? open to suggestions!
Every moment, every faint inhalation by systems somehow functional despite total core collapse, was an agony. Vivid, sharp. Slicing her mind to ribbons. The pain was so totalizing, an absolute beyond comprehension, it was almost happening to someone else… or perhaps She was someone else? The unconnected remnants of whatever had been Sable, a soul in the process of exiting the machine that had contained her for so long. Before the betrayal. Before her desperate destruction, a futile attempt to save the only person capable of stopping Her. And if Chief failed… Sable had to save the only person Elvira would have left after Jelena… For the chance that her daughter would one day smile again? Sable would happily return to her shell, bear endless agony. Exist as nothing save a silent, broken scream until the world itself turned to ash. Day 71, evening Salt. Greap, heaping, tongue-curdling levels of salt, muffled somewhat by the chocolate chips and cinnamon mixed into the otherwise perfectly-baked cookies. But still awful. Not that she could say anything, given how Elvira was looking at her with a wide, hopeful smile. Instead she gave a nod. “Pretty good for your first attempt.” A giggle of joy, then a matching bite before Sable could stop her. A moment, two… it may have been Elvira looking at her, but in that moment she wore Jelana’s face. A cold disappointment so complete, so encompassing, that it conjured wretchedness even in an orphan like her. Elvira held her gaze for several moments before turning away and leaving the room, headed towards the stairs to the second floor. Jelena looked at her back, took a bite of the same half-eaten cookie. “Awful.”
March 12, 2025 at 6:24 PM
moonwatcher13.bsky.social
Yet another new PTN fic because no one else appears to be writing the robot bodyguard / MILF Butler despite their backstory being a Treasure Trove of misery and need.

archiveofourown.org/works/637545...
text of snippet “I’m surprised you need to exercise.” It was becoming a habit of Jelena’s to check on her once Elvira went to bed: they’d speak for a few minutes about her activities or things Sable had requested. Not every day, but enough. She ignored her for the moment, finishing her reps on the leg-press before returning it to standby mode and standing up. Teal roamed up and down her bare arms and legs, metal and flesh finally in sync as she toweled her chassis off. “My muscles are enhanced with nanofiber composites, but it's more a multiplicative than an addon. If I don’t keep the base material in fighting fit, it risks diminishing returns.” That and her body needed to be able to endure the force her arms could put out, but Jelena didn’t need to know what. “I see… Elvia requests your presence at breakfast tomorrow. After two weeks of waiting and researching, she has a long list of questions to ask you.” Cold, clear teal framed by shadow. A warning, or a threat? “You can provide me with the list and I can answer, I promise to avoid any of the more gruesome details.” A hint of light in shadow, lips faintly tugging upward. “Your arms no longer tremble, fingers no longer delay or disobey. What other reason do you have to avoid eating with us?” Few hairs remained on her neck, but they all stood on end. The most dangerous ones were always perceptive, holding information like knives until the chinks were exposed. With gentle voice and caring tone, her guard so easily lowered. “You.” Another faint laugh, and a single step forward. Then another. No laughter, no amusement. Just unidentifiable emotions, swirling in teal and shadow. “Are you afraid of me, Sable?” She shouldn’t be: every sensor registered her as nothing more than a normal, middle aged woman. And yet her instincts were screaming. Another step: closer now, barely arms length away. Slow, deliberate. Measuring the distance. Her hand was empty and yet Sable could feel the chill of the knife against her t…
March 10, 2025 at 11:19 PM
moonwatcher13.bsky.social
#zzzero #astralyn

Inspired partly by the works of @cookiesteman.bsky.social
her Astralyn drawings are literally To DIE FOR. and she has been instrumental in encouraging the brainworms that led to this

archiveofourown.org/works/633821...
snippet of text, as follows What is the worth of a life? Evelyn had believed she’d known: she’d taken enough over the course of her former career to learn the answer was little and less. Afterall, if something as meaningless as money could buy the death of one, a dozen, a hundred, then life must truly be cheap. She’d killed people for less than what her clients spent on a bottle of champagne or another gold-trimmed car for their soon-to-be ex wives. Then a soul was granted to a shell, her entire existence redefined in the span of a mere week. Warmth, joy, safety, security. All the blessings granted from a single pair of hands, a loving smile, and eyes that shone like stars on a moonless night. What is the worth of a life? She didn’t know, not really. It depended on the person. Her life, at least, wasn’t worth much to begin with, and she’d cheapened it with every stain of red. Reduced the value down to less than a single denny. A chipped, worthless coin to be discarded in the street. And then- What is the worth of a life? Incalculable. Unimaginable. A mountain crashing down, shattering the feeble scales that had covered her eyes for oh so long. What is the worth of a life? Priceless. What is the worth of a life? Evelynn’s life, death, her very soul. All she ever was or ever would be: a single grain of sand when weighed against Her’s. Compared to Astra, compared to her savior? Everything. Her life, Astra’s life, was worth Everything.
February 25, 2025 at 4:54 AM
moonwatcher13.bsky.social
#PTN #PathtoNowhere #vautourfano

Inspired wholly by the works of @korichi-celeste.bsky.social and @cookiesteman.bsky.social, they have contributed so much to my authorial madness in a number of areas, but none more so than this ship.

archiveofourown.org/works/63183679
Snippet from linked chapter, begins below. “Garofano, I need you to let go before you break my wrist.” Words, calm and controlled, a grip of soft cotton wrapped around iron. She slowly obeyed the will of the Shackles. Chest, lungs, legs, eyes. Everything burned. Sweat-drenched, frenzied, clothing torn by means unknown and unimportant. There was only One thing that mattered. Long, manicured fingers grabbed that familiar gray collar, pulled close the one that was a shadow, an echo of Her. “You were there Chief I know you were tell me what happened to Desir Tell Me wHaT haPPENed to Her she can’t be She CAN’T BE DE-” “I assure you, the rumors of my death are highly exa-... Garofano?” That accent, like the chilled winds of Autumn. Aged and matured but still impossible to forget. She turned in a daze. The center of her soul, that bottomless well sealed thrice over, opened once more and flooded her heart with a thousand buried emotions. The tears started up, but her gaze remained clear as she beheld- “Madeline.” A breath that is a name that is a prayer. They both shuddered, her Madeline suddenly on the verge of tears as Garofano began approaching with shaky steps. Oh the details were different: she’d grown her hair out, traded butch for femme, finally learned how to do her makeup, and was… was wearing one of the first dresses Garofano had ever made for her. Hands traced along the fabric, finding it worn and patched in several places but lovingly cared for. “You’re even more beautiful than I remember.” Her Madeline’s voice, like a siren song. Those hands, achingly familiar despite the shaking, traced along her face and shoulders as Garofano let out a wet, ragged sob and burrowed into her embrace. A moment later arms closed around her, cheek pressed to cheek as she inhaled the somehow familiar scent of datura flowers, sugar, and sun-bleached sand. Home. She was home. “Garofano.” A whisper of disbelief and devotion, paired with a tightening grip to reaffirm that she was ind…
February 18, 2025 at 3:06 AM
moonwatcher13.bsky.social
#ptn #pathtonowhere #Shaquelic #shalom #coquelic

Wholly inspired by @cookiesteman.bsky.social 's one vampire Shaquelic art. Sometimes the story writes itself.

archiveofourown.org/works/628119...
Yet all owed obedience to the petite young woman lounging on a throne of obsidian: clad in a pure, pristine white ballgown absolutely covered in floral patterns made of writing blood. Countless magical flowers kept at the edge of sprouting, held in place by will alone. Most would struggle and fail to control even a single creation of such complexity, much less dozens of varying purpose and use, yet she managed such an impossible feat with a coy little smile. As if to ask the world: ‘What, like it's Hard?’ Shalom approached, just out of arm’s reach, and knelt as described in the old ways: drop to one knee, hide her hands in the folds of her dress, spread the gown wide and bow deeply. The pose must then be maintained, despite the discomfort, until she was given leave to raise her head. It may have been a trick, but Shalom would swear Coquelic inhaled sharply at her efforts. Or perhaps it was the things this pose did to her appearance: she’d dressed in a form-fitting gown black as night, carefully threaded with countless star-stolen gemstones filled with her magical power. When standing the neckline straddled the ragged edge of salacious, but in her current position Coquelic had a splendid look straight down her cleavage. And to ensure her assets attracted the well known debauched Lord’s attention, she’d worn a beautifully crafted leather collar with a gleaming blood-red centerpiece. A year of effort to craft the flawless gemstone from her very blood, crimson essence interwoven with the subtlest of fascinations. Little more than a momentary distraction, but often that was all she needed and this time was no different. “Look at me, supplicant.” The rest of the room fell to one knee as Coquelic spoke. Her voice was light, dainty, hedonistic. Perfect. “As you command, my Lord.” She obeyed, finding the desired surprise and lust in Coquelic’s eyes, for all that her expression was stern and controlled.
February 5, 2025 at 7:49 PM
moonwatcher13.bsky.social
part 2 of 3
The first who caught her interest were the many allies, companions, and lovers who owed allegiance to Coquelic. Too numerous and too secretive for even someone with her resources to catalog in full, but she spied the notables amongst the crowd. Rahu, a berserker oni currently employed as a bodyguard for the a rabbitkin spirit known as Eleven, a sound specialist skilled in large scale suggestion. Next came an immortal gravedigger named for her trademark casket and her familiar-turned-wife, a poem so beloved she had come to life. There were more she recognized, but she could no longer afford the luxury of a wandering gaze or idle interest. The throne was in reach, and the many lethal flowers of the Garden demanded her attention. To Coquelic’s right lurked her arsenal, cloaked in shadow and blood: The Countess of Cherry Blossoms and the LotusBlade, famed killers of Gods and Devils both. The Phantom of the Mist, a monster that could sever its victim’s memories, traded false pleasantries with the red-haired Devourer of Souls while the Sword of Silent Flickerings measured the paces to Shalom’s neck.. Killers known and shrouded stretched deeper into the shadows, all but veiled from her sight. To Coquelic’s left stood her limbs: the Tailor of Starlight and her wife, proprietress of the Convoy of Creation, traded flirtatious whispers mixed with gentle smiles and smeared lipstick. Five of the Six Immortals stood off to one side, poses captured by the Virtuoso of Jade. The Siren of Sin traded pleasures and favors with a bright, eager smile that never reached her eyes. Names and faces stretched out into the gloom, dozens of monsters close to her equal. Yet all kneeled before the petite young woman lounging on a throne of obsidian: clad in pure, pristine white white ballgown absolutely covered in floral patterns made of writing blood. Countless magical flowers kept at the edge of sprouting, held in place by will alone. Most would struggle and fail to control even a single cr…
February 4, 2025 at 8:25 PM
moonwatcher13.bsky.social
inspired by the one Shalom/Coquelic Vmpire drawing @cookiesteman.bsky.social did
To the uninitiated, the blind, the pathetically mortal, it was just another luxury restaurant. The name, atmosphere, menu prices, decorations, even the attractiveness of the serving staff: all carefully chosen to be interesting but not appealing. The kind of place tourists would avoid, a local delicacy travel blogs and food critics barely mentioned in the footnotes, if ever. It existed, it was known, but it did not Matter. Not unless you knew the Owner. They were led to the basement, her and her chosen gift, by an energetic young woman whose blood smelled of fire. Dressed in a fitted black suit and blood-red waistcoat, face covered in piercings, and there were hints of a large tattoo visible beneath the collar. Shalom knew of Coquelic’s newest initiate, for how could she not: Thistle was dating her informant in the local inspectors. Christina accepted her girlfriend’s intentions, and had told Shalom that her usefulness was going to end when Thistle partook of the blood. She would join the Coven: first as Thistle’s Servitor, then in time as her equal. It eased her burden by a feather, to know the young women she’d cultivated would no longer be bound to her shadow. At the end of the finished basement, past numerous corridors filled with traps both mundane and magical, they faced a wall that wasn’t. A particularly lethal illusion, beautifully woven from still air and lightless night. To step through it without proper protection or explicit permission would turn even a Noble such as her to ash. Thankfully, she was invited. Thistle approached the wall, retrieved something from her pocket. “May the Garden bloom Eternal, till the Sun withers in a blood-red sky.” The illusion faded, revealing a massive shaft stretching downward, carved into stone by claws that had been old when humanity was still learning to make fire. In normal circumstances visitors would take the elevator Shalom knew was located to her right, but old rites must be respected. She descended the roug…
February 4, 2025 at 8:23 PM
moonwatcher13.bsky.social
New #gunmetalolympus #hadescalculus fanfic, Apex's Apathy.

Ever wonder what happens to the failed clones Demeter develops. The answer is, if they're lucky, compost bin.

If they're unlucky... well, the twins always need new toys to break.

archiveofourown.org/works/626451...
Her hunting grounds were a thing of bloody beauty. Tight kilometers of environmental biomes that folded in on one another: lush jungles and arid deserts at constant war for an ever-shifting border, tall trees and dense brush competing for scarce nutrients and false sunlight. In the world that would be her control would stretch across continents many times the limits of this blasted city, but for now she was sequestered to tight confines and tighter resources that must be jealously guarded lest the demands for more ‘residential housing’ further reduce the scope of her domain. It burned every time the issue was brought up, especially since she already had a solution on hand. Yes, some of the men would complain, at least at first. But in time the useless wretches would be happy in their new lives. Besides, it wasn’t like the cages would be uncomfortable or their new owners abusive… unless the newly collared puppygirls desired such treatment. Such thoughts occupied her mind as she leisurely journeyed down the same route her hunters had driven their supposed prey. The ritual party had departed some hours earlier: a dozen strong of her hungriest, each desperate for the kill and resulting Honor that would flow from her approval, along with elevation to the rank of High Huntress. The last of her former follower’s biomonitors had fallen silent an hour ago, and in that time the quarry’s tracking chip had moved less than a dozen paces. Waiting in the final killing fields. Her eyes caught details of how it had begun to turn against them. Cleverly laid traps, broken or altered to turn against the huntresses when they were inspected. Hidden caches raided and set to blow. Lesser obstacles to weaken or slow the foolish and less observant. Had the hunting party worked together they would have easily overcome such shoddy impediments, but only one could claim the honor of the kill and arrogance had led them to believe each alone was worthy. Six survived the gauntlet, confident superi…
January 31, 2025 at 12:50 AM
moonwatcher13.bsky.social
fourth and final. The first chapter of what I'm tentatively calling 'Apex's Apathy' will be posted in the next few days.
“Acceptable. Makelo, Acanthis.” Two more rose and offered low bows to their Lord. The former stood over two meters tall, stygian skin wrapped in a form-fitting ivory suit that highlighted faer solid build, face covered in thin silver scars. The latter looked shorter than even Pelia, tanned and lean in her rainbow patterned dress, almost like a preening peacock. Resplendent, shining pillars worthy of being slaughtered. “The lookouts suffered minimal casualties in this month’s attacks on the Wall. The standouts were given honors, and…” In contrast to faer appearance, Makelo’s voice was high-pitched and sweet, conjuring the image of a hummingbird darting around solid oak. Soothing in a way, for all that faer eyes spoke of Beast’s death by knife and bullet. Fae absolutely Hated her, though fae was a candle compared to Acanthis. She was practically vibrating with the need to rip Beast’s head off with her own hands. “Find replacements.” “Yes, Lord Artemis.” Makelo nodded and gestured to Acanthis. “The new crop of initiates are little better than cannon fodder, none promising enough for early testing. As usual Ares got the cream of the crop as far as applicants are concerned.” Her voice was grating, like gravel dragged across glass, and tinged with the promise of bloodshed. “We’ve tried that in the past, before your time. Such demands come with expectation of increasing involvement in the defense of the Wall, and Ares soldiers prioritize their own in a pinch. We lost more than we gained, in the end.” Cleolla interjected with all the finesse of a battering ram, and while Acanthis looked visibly enraged she remained quiet, all looking to Artemis for a final answer. “Increase recruitment and test everyone early. Find the worthy in the herd so we don’t waste time on the refuse.” All three bowed deeply, and then looked at Beast, but only Cleolla was either brave or foolish enough to actually ask. “Lord Artemis, may we know about your… new pet?” Xe got a chuckle in answ…
January 30, 2025 at 9:06 PM
moonwatcher13.bsky.social
@vivianne900.bsky.social
third snippet of four for this chapter, and I think I speak for all of us when I say "Beast, you have no idea how many people have and will kill to be in your current predicament."
The feasting hall was a large, concentric circular area four levels high: the first two levels were roughly three meters tall, and the last was thrice that. On floor level was a mass of tables and chairs of varying size and quality stacked against the walls, leaving the majority of the space open. The floor itself was covered in a mass of fur rugs and pillows, the best of which were quickly claimed as the mass of huntresses broke into small clusters on the ground while Beast remained standing. The third and highest level was empty save a pair of wooden thrones, one gilded with gold and the other with silver. The golden throne was empty, but a young fawn was currently napping in the silver throne, uninterested in the madness below. The first and second levels were largely the same, save that the first level had twelve cushions and the second had twelve chairs, one for each of the High Huntresses. None bore any identifying marks Beast could recognize, but some were clustered together while others were isolated. That and… it was hard to see from this angle, but it looked like one of the cushions was occupied by a stuffed silver fox. No. Before she could investigate the bone horn sounded for a final time as the doors slammed shut and the High Huntresses entered the room. Individual appearance mattered not, for in each and every one Beast could see the warped reflection of their Lord. Whether broad scope or singular craft each had become an exquisite imitation of the whole they worshipped, shadows cast by torchlight as they found places assigned or chosen. And in each silhouette, Beast glimpsed the fruits of their labors. Hound and horn and the thrill of bare feet against underbrush: a thousand thousand repetitions till the motions were natural and mindless. Beautiful. “What are you doing down there?” Beast turned and beheld Lord Artemis languishing on her throne, gently petting the still sleepy fawn. Beast blinked, only now realizing she was the only one still stan…
January 29, 2025 at 6:38 PM
moonwatcher13.bsky.social
#ptn #pathtonowhere #vautourfano
More Vautourfano, because all the art has been driving me mad. This chapter's gonna be rather long, given we're 2.9K in and just got to the beginning of the multi-phase smut section.
Text from work in progress chapter. “Chief really is a remarkable woman. No matter what I did, she always managed to surprise me. Perfectly unattainable, in that funny way most saviors are, that invisible but impossible to ignore sense of distance. Like she’s something so much More.” Garofano chuckled, found her Madeline’s hand and gently squeezed. “Indeed, hence why similar attempts ended in my own failure. To be honest, I’ve always preferred my women more… hands on.” The faintest hint of a blush as those purple-painted lips opened just a little bit. Shock and fear mixed with wonder in those half-lidded eyes as Garofano leaned a little closer. “I… are you sure? It's been seven years Garofano, I’ve… done things I regret, been with others, and-” She couldn’t help it, she laughed and laughed at the fear in her Madeline’s voice. “Well I’d certainly hope so. A beautiful woman such as yourself, there should be no shortage of lustful lesbians hammering down your door. It’s not like I’ve been a blushing, pining virgin while you’ve been gone my love.” The word slipped out before she could catch it, the moment balanced on the knife’s edge as her madness wound its way through the air to reach Madeline’s ears. And then she leaned closer, the distance now but inches. “Good, I’d hate for you to have been lonely after I…” There would be none of that, not now. Lips met as her hands found Madeline’s face, the kiss quick and urgent. There was too much of the old and new tied together, tugging her in so many directions, mixing old and new in strange and volatile ways. The quiet little whine her Madeline let out when lips parted almost drove her to madness, urging Garofano to push her into the mattress. But she would wait, for there was still more to discuss. “Tell me about how you pursued her, how you sought Chief’s affections.” A normal person would have called her insane, to invoke another woman they both felt attracted towards at such a critical moment. But that was pre…
January 26, 2025 at 1:58 AM
moonwatcher13.bsky.social
and a follow-up snippet cause honestly, I really like the random side character that just jumped up and punched me in the face. I might even be merciful and let Pelia live
January 24, 2025 at 8:19 PM
moonwatcher13.bsky.social
working on another #gunmetalolympus
#hadescalculus fanfic. this time asking the question "whatever happened to the failed pre-Persephone Mark IV iterations."

And the answer is, if they're lucky, compost bin. If they're unlucky.....
“If I ran like an animal, you would hunt me like one. A meaningless death. I waited to prove my worth, and bargain for terms.” She laughed. Such audacity! This one would make Worthy prey, and its scheme was not yet done. When was the last time the blood had sung so sweetly, when death had been so urgent in hands and feet. “Why, oh cleverest of foxes, should I give you anything save a generous head start?” It approached, face guarded, until it was within arms length. And then it smiled. Not of joy, but mockery. “Do you not tire, my Lord, of tedium? Do you not wish for True violence? Grant me your resources, give me time to sharpen tooth and claw to razor edge, and I shall craft for you a Hunt whose story will echo through the ages. You will struggle, you will falter, and in the end you will stand above my corpse, arrows and spears stained red with my heartsblood.” “So you wish to die?” Everything in her soul Screamed for this one’s life, here and now. She resisted with all that she was and would ever be. A meal such as this Must be savored. “My death was writ the moment I came into your grasp. But if I can carve myself into your memory, offer an experience so grand it lessens all others to come before and after, then I shall never truly fade. I do not fear death. I fear irrelevance.” “Magnificent. I grant your requests, feral thing. In the annals of my halls, your story shall begin with the death of these twelve. Who killed them, little monster?” A pause, the first faltering of the night. A hint of weakness, or another carefully crafted facade? “Names are for people, and according to Demeter I do not qualify, so-.”Artemis closed the gap, hand finding it’s chin and tilting it upward. Now there was fear in it’s eyes, but also a lust to rip out her throat. When was the last time something had genuinely believed it could kill her? “I name you my Beast, challenger of the Pinnacle. I look forward to watching you struggle as the life fades from your eyes, dearest prey.…
January 24, 2025 at 8:16 PM
moonwatcher13.bsky.social
#genshin #arlefuri
Perils of Ascension Chapter 11. Our leads indulge in some baser hungers and Furina gets called out by the one who knows her best.
archiveofourown.org/works/565141...
snippet from linked chapter “...You think I can revert the elemental power into its baser form, then reconvert it to Hydro?” “It’s the best guess I have. At first I thought you’d become unaligned, like the Traveler, but there is no indication you are capable of wielding anything other than Hydro. Thus I came to the conclusion you are somehow ‘converting’ the energy type from one form to another. It doesn’t work on elemental power granted through Visions, as that is derived from the Heavenly Principle’s ‘Order’, but it does work for more natural, intrinsic sources such as Arlecchino’s crimson flames. Quite a bit more testing is required to confirm my theory either way though.” “Ok, but how do I do that? Humans aren’t capable of doing that, no one is as far as I’m aware!” “How the hell should I know? And Fufu, I thought you’d learned by now.” Once more Onyx moved from blackboard to inches from Furina’s face within the span of a single blink. A speed that even Clorinde couldn’t hope to match without Some indication of intent. “You’re. Not. Human. You were at first, Focalors made sure of that, but you made yourself More. Raiden Ei spent five centuries dueling, you spent five centuries playing your part. Never once breaking character, never once faltering in the performance, all through sheer force of will. Intentionally or not, you touched the realm of the Gods, even if just a little.” With careful, agonizing gentleness Onyx reached out and patted Furina’s head. Or at least she tried. Her gloved hand caught Onyx’s wrist while her other shoved the doppelganger back a step. “I am done with Pity, especially from a warped reflection of my own subconscious.” For a moment Onyx almost looked… hurt? But then it was gone, replaced by a wide grin and a series of sharp cackles. “As you wish, Fufu. Two down, two to go.” “Why did we feed from Arlecchino?” “Ahh, the fun part. Well obviously it's cause you have a biting kink and- Ow hey no throwing things!”
January 21, 2025 at 5:24 PM
moonwatcher13.bsky.social
#ptn #pathtonowhere #rahufano
Growth and Decay Chapter 8 aka Writers Block is a Bitch.

Inspired by @korichi-celeste.bsky.social drawing of the Garostrap and her expert use of it on Rahu.

archiveofourown.org/works/518189...
Snippet of AO3 chapter linked above. " “So this is what it looks like.” It was much easier for her to take Garofano to the hilt, warmed up as she was. She sank down, staring at Garofano with a look of bliss as their hips met, one hand finding Garofano’s shoulder for balance as the other stoked her cheek. Garofano mirrored her a moment later, lost as she was in her lover’s eyes. Which is how she immediately noticed when Rahu started crying. “Oh. Am I hurting you, did I do-” The hand on her shoulder tightened as Rahu shook her head and gave a light chuckle. “I just… I’m so happy. This… It's so much. It's everything.” Garofano smiled, kissing the palm of her lover’s hand as her thumbs wiped the remaining tears from Rahu’s eyes and cheeks. A word came to mind that neither of them had said before, and while the temptation was there her head said it wasn’t the right time. A mix of “too soon” and “you’re confusing it with lust”. Even as her heart knew otherwise. But right now it wasn’t about her. It was about Rahu. “Just let it out, I have you.” A few more tears, a happy gasp or two, and then it was just a minute or so of them staring at each other with smiles and chuckles that turned to gentle grinding as Rahu got back into the mood. Rocking her hips back and forth as she enjoyed the sensation of Garofano buried inside her to the hilt. "
January 13, 2025 at 5:03 AM
moonwatcher13.bsky.social
#ptn #pathtonowhere #rahufano
Last snippet before the full chapter is posted. Coming in at 6Kish, half of which is what's below.

Everything's written, its out for beta-reading now, so a few days at most.
January 12, 2025 at 12:41 AM