#(( this is the exact reason I had to split the chapter ))

[1moreff-creator]

Select Two, Choose One: How will the Culprit get Found?

Since the latest DRDT chapter seems to have narrowed down the suspect list to just two people, many have speculated on how exactly the cast is going to pin down the correct suspect, and whether or not the audience has the tools to do so. I thought I’d throw my hat in the ring too! And while I’m still really 50/50 split, there is one piece of evidence that could change the murder method… in a way that points us to the culprit. Very inconclusive evidence, but it’s there. Let’s get into it.

Spoilers up to CH2 EP14. CW: Hanging, murder, blood, Eden and Ace!Culprit discussion

As a starting point, I’ll assume that the deduction that the culprit must be one of Eden or Ace is accurate, to simplify things if nothing else.

I will start with what I’ll call “meta only” arguments. In other words, things that characters can’t reliably use to narrow down the suspect, but that we the audience can take into consideration for theory-crafting.

-Mindset post-Nico murder attempt: Immediately after Nico runs out of the gym, the killer needs to be in the correct mindset to grab the tape, and they also need to be able to more or less figure out what Nico did to replicate it with Arei. Although, importantly, the killer doesn’t need to come up with the full plan on the spot, and they don’t need to fully understand what Nico was doing. At the end of the day, the only real similarities are the general idea of a pulley and a hanging.

Here’s more or less the train of thought Eden might have had if she’s the killer.

Eden: Hmm… The fan is broken and there was wire on it, Ace’s neck looks cut… Maybe Nico used some kind of pulley to hang him and it broke? Maybe I could do that… This tape looks useful for that.

Meanwhile, since Ace woke up in the middle of the murder attempt, he has to do a little less deducing.

Ace: Did I just get knocked- HOLY SHIT NICO IS HANGING ME WITH SOME SORT OF FUCKING SPINNING DEVICE AAAA-! Ooh, tape! :D

The actual planning of a murder would come later in the morning for Ace, once he sits down and has A Thought about it. Grabbing the tape in that context seems insane, but there may be precedent for Ace being prone to stealing the weirdest shit (we’ll get to it), so…

I think both of these are plausible. I wouldn’t say either can be disqualified like this, so we keep looking.

-Ripping/reconstructing the note: The note to Arei was ripped up and thrown into the trash, then Eden, Rose and Whit put it together.

Ace has no real reason to destroy the note, he could have just left it as it was. Maybe throw it in the trash since “it’s what Eden would have done”, but destroying it runs the risk of people not being able to put it together to point at Eden/Arturo. Although, you could argue Ace was trying to frame Nico specifically, so the note wasn’t useful and he threw it away because it made sense in his mind.

Here’s where we get introduced to a pretty big problem of having Ace as a suspect; that thing Teruko said, that sometimes assuming people will always act logically is a bad idea. Ace is the prime example; a lot of shit in this case makes a lot more sense if you assume Ace did it because he’s not smart enough to notice the problems with it. Such as using the method to frame Nico when only a few people in the class know what the method is; he maybe wouldn’t have noticed that that could point towards him as well. Ace is erratic, it’s very difficult to pin down why he does half the shit he does.

Eden, at least, makes sense. By destroying the note, then rebuilding it herself, she throws off suspicion with the exact argument she used in the trial; if she’s the killer, why do that? Just leaving the note as it is runs the risk of someone finding it and presenting it, which removes that argument, meaning tearing it is imperative.

And she would want the class to find it, not just because it makes her look more innocent if she talks about a building friendship with Arei, but because the note is where we get the “7:30” time, which combined with the fish making people think the murder was at nighttime, appears to give Eden an alibi.

In conclusion, the note being ripped makes more sense with Eden as the culprit… but it doesn’t disqualify Ace because he’s an idiot. And speaking of that…

-Fish Paradox: As outlined in my Ep13 murder theory revision, the problem with the fish is that everyone who benefits from the fish being at the crime scene only benefits if they have an alibi for nighttime, but that coincides with the time the fish disappeared, as Nico fed them and counted all of them after having dinner, so they couldn’t have taken it. Meanwhile, people like Ace who could have taken the fish, wouldn’t have a reason to as they don’t benefit from the nighttime alibi.

Except, it’s fucking Ace. It’s genuinely possible he thought people would see fish and instantly jump on Nico for some reason. See the problems that arise when you can no longer assume the killer is acting rationally?

Anyways, inconclusive (we’ll talk Eden later).

-No blood on tape: This heavily depends on exactly how Ace could grabbed the tape. His hands sorta get covered in blood instantly, so it’s hard to imagine he’d be able to do that without staining the entire roll of tape with blood. He couldn’t have easily washed it, either, since he passes out shortly after, and the blood would have likely dried by the time he woke up. This is definitely a point towards Eden, but can the cast use this? I don’t think so, because it relies on what we saw during the episode, which is not easy to prove in a trial setting.

-Dialogue and trial behavior: This one’s difficult, and as you might expect, inconclusive.

I would argue Eden has a higher amount of outright suspicious lines (“Teruko, wait—“ haunts me), but she also has a higher amount of seemingly anti-suspicious lines that make her look very innocent (see: the entire speech at the end of Ep 14).

She also has a moment where she steers the trial in the right direction by denying that Arei could have committed assisted suicide, but it’s worth remembering that if the class thinks that’s what happened and they learn of Eden’s relationship with her, they might assume Arei and Eden worked together to get Eden out. In other words, by denying the notion of assisted suicide, Eden!Culprit avoids the class reaching the right conclusion through the wrong method. Of course, if she’s innocent, it’s just genuine.

Comparatively, Ace operates at a much more stable level of suspiciousness I can only call “Ace level.” He’s constantly throwing suspicion on Nico, who the killer seemingly tried to frame with the method; he kept David and Arei’s conversation hidden; and was one of the first to jump on the “David’s the culprit” bandwagon. In a vacuum, this is super suspicious; hell, Levi was the fandom’s prime suspect for less.

But… it’s Ace. His behavior isn’t too different from the first trial. So while it’s possible he’s doing all this because he’s the culprit, it’s also possible he’s just being Ace.

Impossible to tell, I fear.

-Eden’s Night 2 paranoia: You might recall Eden being very worried someone was following her in night 2, which could suggest she was doing something suspicious (eg setting up the ball of clothes, more on this later) and was scared she’d get found out.

The problem is that there’s a perfectly fine explanation for Spotless!Eden. This is the night after her confrontation with Arturo, and Teruko did enter the same room as her; she could have just been paranoid because of the former, and felt someone was following her because of the latter. Moot point.

(I don’t think anyone else was following Eden because Teruko would have presumably seen them. Then again, I have overestimated our protag’s perceptiveness in the past)

-Eden’s strength: Eden is the weakest of the cast, so it’s very possible that half the Arei murder method is just impossible for her. But… we can’t know for absolutely sure what “weakest of the cast” means, and it’s not evidence that can be used in a trial. Ignorable.

-Motive, character writing and themes: I’m lumping these in together because I’ll give the same answer to all of them: the dev can just add an explanation in the inevitable post-trial trauma dump. We don’t know absolutely everything there is to know about these characters, or the way the narrative is going, so it’s impossible to confidently argue based on this. Physical evidence will always take precedence over these things in my books.

And that kinda settles it for that. There’s minor arguments like “Eden won’t die before we explore the Fork CG” (well, Xander did, so) or “if the Scrum Debate is Ace vs Eden then Ace is probably safe” (we don’t know what the Scrum Debate will be), but I’ll skip them to get to the more pressing matters.

That being trial-worthy evidence. What can the most dysfunctional cast of any fangan ever (/affectionate) use to fully commit to a culprit?

-Fish Alibi: If Ace has the problem of “no reason to bring fish,” Eden has the problem that her alibi literally starts directly after dinner. If Nico ate dinner with her and Hu, she couldn’t have taken the fish.

Except, of course, Nico could have had dinner earlier, and this point is completely moot. We can’t know yet.

-BDA: This is very obviously not what the cast will use to come to the conclusion given the discussions we’ve had, but I’ll bring it up anyways. This was explained in the episode though, so…

-Playground floor: sorastar6’s idea; since the floor of the playground is made of the same stuff as the relax room, it’d become sticky after getting wet from the water in the jugs, and thus, the culprit could have some stuck to their shoe. Unfortunately for some of you, we can’t easily look at the cast’s feet all the time, so this would only work for the characters, not us. However, Hu does mention heels as an example of something that can scuff the floor, and Ace wears heels, so small point to him.

-Missing glove: I still have no idea where this thing went. My only guess would be that the killer removed it to more easily put tape on Arei’s wrists, but by the time they’d strung her up, they decided putting the glove back on would take too much time (? I have no concept of how hard it’s be to properly put a glove on a dead person’s hand), and they wanted to get out of there as fast as possible. If true, that would mean they still have the glove on them, as it wasn’t in the trash. Again, if I’m right about this, the cast can use this, we can’t.

-Random garbage:

Something here. Rose would remember everything about it, so it’s usable. Maybe Ace’s gloves were damaged and he had to use the needle and thread to fix them? Maybe one of those napkins is the cloth with turpentine Nico used and only Ace would have identified and used it (assuming it wouldn’t have dried and MonoTV wouldn’t have thrown it out for some reason)? What even is that pink paper thing? Who knows.

-Ball of clothes: Held together by something Teruko identified as starch, there’s been around three hundred theories involving this thing. The only one that’s actually incriminating (for the two possibilities being discussed) is thebadjoe’s idea of the starch being from the enriched formula of the relax room, which could implicate Eden as she was acting suspiciously around the dress-up room on night 2.

I’ve seen it argued that the clothes would be dirty in that case, but that can be solved with an extra layer of clothes under the clothes that actually get starched up, which would later be either discarded, washed, or simply put inside the ball itself.

(This might be the last murder diagram I make for this case. Holy shit I can’t believe that)

Which is all well and good, but this is still ultimately assuming both that the cast has some way of making sure Ace couldn’t have done this, which I’m not sure exists, and that the starch comes from the relax room in the first place.

Because something I learnt, like, last week, is that people put starch on clothes. Like that’s a thing they do. So it’s entirely possible there’s starch for clothes in the dress-up room and anyone could have done this. If that’s the case, this cannot be used to argue at all. I don’t love the idea, since we don’t know if there really is starch there or not, but it’s there.

-Grammar: The letter to Arei pretty famously misspells “responsibel” (responsible), has horrible punctuation, etc. It’s possible someone in the trial will realize, ask Ace and Eden to spell the word, and whoever gets it right is cleared. We can’t know, but it’s a possibility. This also has the benefit of being obscenely funny.

-Custom weapon: If the killer used their custom weapon, it may point to them as guilty, as only they have access to it. However, I fail to see how a riding crop (Ace) or a wrench (Eden) would help in the slightest.

There is, however, one more item that only one of these characters has access to. And while I am very unsure of this assumption, if you ask me right now what is the decisive piece of evidence that will close the case once and for all, I will tell you:

-The shoulder band thingy:

Ace: Too fucking bad. Mine now. I’m keeping it.

Yep. This one.

For starters, remember that thing I said about the tape? That Ace has precedent of stealing completely random shit for no reason, and so it’s plausible he grabbed the tape just because? This is the precedent.

More importantly though, it’s something only Ace has access to, so if it can be determined it was used in the crime scene, it’s curtains.

And there is actually one place I could see it being used. Followers of my method theories know that, through the fire and the flames, there’s been one deduction that’s remain constant: the rope was tied to the ball of clothes, which was thrown over the railings to get the rope as high as needed. The ball also hit the lights, displacing the bulb and causing it to flicker.

(He he I snuck the image into a fourth post >:D)

I’ve always sorta assumed DRDT takes place in a physics exercise where air drag is ignored, but it’s true that this might be harder than I’ve been presenting it as.

So, we get the use for the shoulder band; a slingshot. I’m unsure on how it would be constructed (swingset maybe? seesaw?), but the idea is that. Create a slingshot, throw the clothes, badabim badabum, Ace is the culprit.

I’m not the only one to think of this btw. Reddit user (yes we’re cross-platforming for this) Makatrull seems to have arrived at the same conclusion. Great minds think alike ig.

Of course, this comes with its own issues. Mainly, how do you connect the shoulder band to the crime scene? The only way I see that happening is if the cast determines this is literally the only way the lights get broken, which… yeah, I’m gonna have to let them do the math on that one.

It’s impossible to judge without existing in the DRDT world. Is the ceiling higher than I’d previously assumed? Then it’s possible to come to this conclusion. Is it lower, and possible that even Eden would have managed to just throw the ball over the railing? Certainly. So, for now, inconclusive. When I say it’s the most likely to be the decisive evidence, I mean by like, 0.1%, I really have no clue.

———

There’s probably more, but that’s all I can think of for now.

Seeing as we’re reaching the end, I’m gonna say that regardless of the outcome, this might be one of my favorite trials in all of both canon and fan-made Danganronpa. So much shit happened. I’ll save my full thoughts for a more dedicated post, but goddamn, I can’t wait to see the conclusion!

Hope you enjoyed! If you made it this far, you deserve a shoulder band thing. Do with it as you please. See you!

[arrows-asks]

Currently reworking the next part of the OG Lost Memories Chapter 2 and I rewrote what had initially been like 400 words into over two-fucking-thousand. 

Why am I like this.

[notiddygxthgf]

1/2

★ pairings: choso kamo x f!reader

★ synopsis: Yuuji Itadori truly was the best friend a girl like you could ask for, but he wasn't the only reason you came to visit. (His older brother, the devilishly handsome Choso Kamo, had always been the apple of your eye).

★ c.w.: slow burn, friends to lovers, eventual smut, childhood sweethearts, kinda, mutual pining, choso with a tongue piercing, rough sex, cunnilingus, backshots, unprotected sex, regular people au, two year age gap, PWP.

★ a/n: hi pookie dookies!! ive been wanting to write choso for a while!! this is a one shot I split into two chapters bc its like, 11k words.... but! if u guys request it, I might add more chapters!!! thank u for ur support as always, muah muah!! (btw if u like tokyo rev go check out my other shit teehee).

★ w.c.; 4.5k

best friend's brother ; chapter index

YUUJI ITADORI WAS truly the best friend a girl like you could ask for. The two of you were kind of like childhood friends, though you hadn’t been close for a good portion of it. You didn’t remember the exact day Itadori had invited you into his home – though you knew it was some time in elementary school. The two of you had been practically inseparable ever since. 

There was one thing about the pinkette’s home life in particular that seemed to catch your young eye. 

His older brother, Choso.

He was two years your senior – dark hair, dark eyes, he looked nothing like his brother. He had this scar over the bridge of his nose from an accident that had happened when he was younger. He was an elusive figure, something of a mystery to your young mind – he was always there, but never there.  

He was content to dwell in the background like some sort of side character. 

The first time you’d ever met him had been at one of Itadori’s baseball games. He’d invited you to show up – and at this point you had to have been no older than 8 or 9 – and show out for him. And show out you sure did. 

You had your mother do your hair up real nice in those cute little pigtails you used to love wearing. You had scribbled his jersey number onto a plain white tee the night before, donning some hot pink leggings beneath.

And you screamed for Itadori, cheered as loud as your little lungs would allow you to. He won, of course, but that’s not the point here. You’d gone up to him after the game, wrapping your short arms around his frame – and at the time he was no larger than you were – and telling him he’d done great. Itadori grinned at you, faint blush dusting his cheeks, and thanked you. His smile was a thousand suns in one.

A hand on his shoulder had shaken the two of you out of the moment. A bigger hand.

It was his 11-year-old adoptive brother, Choso Kamo. An angel of the darkness, as corny as that sounds, but in that moment you swore the gates of heaven resided in those dark eyes of his. He stood out against the bright backdrop of the September afternoon. The sunlight filtered through his short black hair, reflected off of his pale skin, shooting rays right into your stomach and sending a horde of butterflies fluttering.

“This your girlfriend, Yuuji?” He commented with a half-grin.

You remember turning red at his comment, waving your arms around wildly. You remember the way his eyes creased as he laughed at you, one of the few times you recall seeing him laugh.

So what if you had heart eyes for your best friend’s older brother? It was harmless, just a little crush you had formed on the guy you felt had stolen your heart away. Harmless. 

At least, it was until the two of you grew older. You started junior high, you started puberty , and as your body changed, so did his. So did your feelings, morphing from a butterfly crush to something more akin to desire as you began to see him in a different light.

He lost the baby fat around his face. His eyes had darkened, shoulders broadening. His hair got longer, falling into his boyish, scarred face in a way that rendered you entirely breathless. 

He was becoming a man.

You were 13 and 15 now, stealing sneaky glances at him whenever he would pass by his brother’s room. Yuji, who had just been boasting about how he was starting to get taller than you, would pay it no mind.

It was just a crush. He was two years your senior, after all. You had no chance.

You were 13 when he would poke fun at you and his brother. He was 15 when he would laugh at the way your face would go red. He didn’t know that it wasn’t his brother you wanted.

14 and 16 when you first began to notice the subtle slope of his shoulders become more pronounced, more defined. When you began to notice the way his muscles would strain against the sleeves of his tee shirt. 

He had always been a large guy, having hit quite a few growth spurts along the way. He had to have been about 5’10 at that point, practically towering over you. But lately, you thought he must have been hitting the gym. He would walk past Yuji’s open door – and in their house it was a family policy to leave the door open when you came over, even if Yuji was only a brother to you – with gym gear on. He would come back with sweat-slicked hair plastered to his forehead, chest rising and falling steadily.

Something about that made your hormones go wild for him. Inappropriate thoughts began to chew away at you from the inside, images of what he could do to you with such strength, even if you weren’t too certain what ‘doing’ even entailed at that time. The scent of his pheromones, something like that – or maybe it was the way his gym clothes hugged his body while he marched towards the bathroom to take a shower – it made you feral for him.

He was so much bigger than you now. It made your head spin with feelings you didn’t quite understand. It was just a crush… so why did you stay awake at night imagining him panting over you, sweat trickling down his bare chest? The way his muscles might ripple under your hesitant, inexperienced touch? The warmth that would bloom over your face when you imagined his lips on yours – this man who you had never gotten close to.

A man who you remembered having a late night conversation with in the kitchen while Yuuji slept right down the hall one night.

He was ransacking the cabinet for snacks when you found him. He relaxed once he’d noticed it was you, the two of you eventually falling into sugar-fueled conversation after he cracked open a pack of double-stuff oreos. A conversation about the taboo , about the things you had been told to keep quiet.

“You don’t have to be all flustered ‘round me, y’know,” He had told you rather softly. The two of you were separated by the kitchen island, but it felt like he was way to close to you. “You can ask me anything you’re curious about.”

“I’m not curious!” You had whisper-shouted back with a roll of your eyes. “I don’t want to know about your sex life, you whore.”

“You just asked me what it felt like, liar,” He noted, quirking a brow at your outward reaction. He loved to get under your skin. Lived for it. “And for the record, I’m not a whore. Most of the times I’ve been touched have been with my own hand.”

“I’ve never tried… that, ” You mused quietly, head low. Your face burned with the heat of your admission. 

He popped an oreo into his mouth, dusting his hands off carelessly. “What, masturbating?”

Your heart did a weak somersault. “Quiet!” You hissed at him. “Now what if Yuuji heard you talking to me like that?”

“Calm your shit,” he told you. “You’re too young f’me. Relax.”

He only chuckled at your words, shaking his head quietly while he resealed the oreos. Still, if he was thinking anything about your reaction, he didn’t voice it. You were glad.

But it hurt. It hurt, hearing him talk about you like you didn’t have a chance. Like none of the effort you put into your appearance around him had any effect on him because you were too young to steal his attention away. None of it mattered – the push up bras, the low cut tanks, the cherry lip balm. 

In his eyes, you were only a kid.

“I’m a virgin,” you had blurted out, for some odd reason you still didn’t quite understand.

The pause that befell the two of you was one that you remembered years later. 

“I can tell,” He had said, slim waist swinging side to side as he walked around the kitchen island, towards the exit behind you. He sauntered over to you with a smirk on his face and a plate in his hand, dark hair pulled back into a bun while his layers fell around his face. He was breathtaking, handsome, tantalizing build towering over you.

16, A man whose voice had dropped again in the last few months whispered those words, the ones you would never forget, “‘S fun. You should try it.”

You didn’t know what he had wanted you to try – having sex or performing it on yourself.

Either way, that night when you went home was the first time you ever tried to touch yourself. Fantasized about him whispering in your ear, holding you down, talking you through – while your pink-manicured fingers worked you up to your first orgasm.

Two years had never felt so far apart.

Choso had a girlfriend at one point. It was only for, like, four months – he was 17, you were 15. You only found this out when he’d come home after a pretty rough night with her. He looked pissed, lips pressed into a thin line, arms crossed over his broad chest.

You knew he was too old for you, that you weren’t old enough for him, more specifically – but, still, you batted those lashes of yours up at him while you asked him what was wrong.

You didn’t tell him about the way butterflies erupted in your stomach like a hundred angry guisers when he told you his girlfriend had cheated, left him for another man. 

You hugged him instead, telling him that it would be alright, telling him that she never deserved him anyway. You were the one for him, and one day he would see that.

Instead of turning to you – who had been right there all along, he had just been too blind to notice – he took his anger out on everyone else. He became cold, emotionally closed off. He became a serial heartbreaker. 

For a while, whenever you came over to Yuuji’s, his bedroom would be vacant. Open, dark, just as he had left it. For a while, he would spend his nights with faceless hookups and meaningless dates. Itadori would call you to complain about it, about how “we’re home alone for dinner tonight and Choso just walked out”.

Your heart broke, too. He just didn’t know it.

He didn’t know you were waiting for him to come to his senses, for him to see you as a woman .

You were seated in the kitchen across from Itadori enjoying another late-night snack, sharing some hearty laughter. You had always adored your conversations with him, the ‘After-Hours’ talks, as you would often refer to them. 

Your night had taken an unexpected turn when Itadori’s brother burst through the kitchen door with a giggling girl in tow. The late hour suggested that this was no ordinary visit.

Still, even though you couldn’t pry your eyes away from her, you didn’t say anything. You stayed quiet while your heart shattered into one hundred million pieces inside of your tight chest.

Itadori’s laughter had died down, giving way to an awkward silence. He greeted his brother with a smile, “Hey, bro. Who’s she?”

Choso shrugged, dark hair shifting over his eyes that seemed to glint beneath the dim lighting as he replied, “Company.”

His mischievous tone and the girl at his side left little to the imagination. Your cheeks flushed as you exchanged another quick glance with Itadori.

You felt frozen in place. You couldn’t move. No, all you could do was sit there like a dumbass and stare at him, watch the man you loved liked guide her by her hand up the stairs. 

Of course. You had been naive to think that he would wait for you. He would be 18 next year. 

He was out of your league.

Feeling the need for a momentary escape, you had excused yourself, muttering something about needing to use the bathroom. You had stood up, heart racing, and made your way up the stairs and towards the bathroom.

Conveniently, of course, it was located just down the hall from Choso’s room.

You crept down the hall slowly. As you passed by his door, you caught a sound. Something unmistakable – two people in hushed conversation uttering words in between kisses. 

“Choso, baby.” 

Another quiet kiss. Their lips separated.

“I’m ready.” 

“You brought protection?” 

Your embarrassment grew as you realized the intimate nature of the encounter happening on the other side of the door. Quickly, you averted your gaze, face burning, and ran off to the bathroom.

It took you a moment to catch your breath. You couldn’t believe the awkwardness of the whole situation. Shit, you didn’t even know how to approach him after this.

Worst of all, you didn’t even know why you were still only able to imagine it was your voice behind that door instead of hers. That it was him pressing butterfly kisses to your lips. Him asking you if you were ready for him.

With your cheeks tinged a rosey hue, you resolved to keep yourself locked away in the bathroom until the thoughts subsided.

It seemed like it was a new girl every time you came to visit. A blonde, a brunette – he didn’t seem to have a preference. Every time you would watch him walk another girl to the front door, bidding her safe travels on her way home, your hope would wither away.

But the feelings never subsided. No, even when you would spend a little more time walking past his room on your way to the bathroom to eavesdrop. Not even when you would hear hushed whispers and quiet moans from the other side and imagine what kind of lover Choso would be. Would he leave marks? Talk dirty to you? Was he a giver or a taker? 

Not even when the two of you would cross paths in the kitchen after his plans for the evening went home. He would turn to you with a knowing smirk, hair down and messy even though it did nothing to hide the red and purple love bites that littered the valley of his neck. 

And he looked so good that you often found yourself wishing it was you who had left those marks. 

It was as if he knew you were dying inside. Like something was beginning to change inside of him after all of these years. Like he took some strangely cruel pleasure in showing off to you.

No, you would have to remind yourself in vain. I’m too young for him. 

You were just a girl in his eyes. That’s what you maintained.

So you went out and retaliated by losing your V-card to some kid from your class. Well, in your head it was retaliation. He was none the wiser about it, but it gave you a sense of satisfaction knowing you were able to fuck people who weren’t him. 

Take that, Choso. 

Yuji groaned, laying spread eagle over his carpeted floor, arms spread out on either side of him. He had grown so much – you could hardly contain the way your eyes wandered from his pretty face to his new physique. Like his brother, Itadori was a well-defined man.

God picked favorites, and it wasn’t you.

There was an open notebook splayed over his face. He gripped the spine, tossing it to the side. 

“I’m over this chemistry shit,” He sighed.

You couldn’t possibly have agreed more. Still, you continued to sketch the rough outline of a circle onto the sheet of construction paper in your hand. You would need to make it perfect, just right, so that you would be able to incorporate it into your group project.

You turned the pencil over between your fingertips. “We’re gonna need more supplies.”

"Like what?" Yuuji asked, his frustration still evident. "I’m pretty sure we’ve purchased, like… every craft supply on the market."

You quirked a brow at the thought. "Scissors…?"

Yuuji pursed his lips, his brow furrowing. "I don’t have those."

"Of course you don’t," you sighed, shaking your head. "Who the hell doesn’t have scissors?"

"I lent them to Choso," he retorted with a hint of annoyance.

Your heart dropped at the mention of Choso. You couldn't help but picture his face, his body, and wondered if he was asleep. You didn't want to disturb him.

Yuuji sat up, nudging you with his foot playfully. "Hey, why don't you go over there and get them? Make some goo-goo eyes, bat your lashes. I’m sure he wouldn’t say no to you."

You hesitated for a moment, considering your options. "I'm sure I can find some in my backpack," you said instead, trying to avoid the suggestion.

"Come onnnn, you know you wanna go over there," Yuuji teased with a sly grin. He leaned in closer, cupping his hand around his mouth, and whispered, " He just got back from the gym. "

Another nudge from Yuuji finally made you relent. "Fine," you said with a playful roll of your eyes. "I’ll be back."

Only moments later, you found yourself standing in front of Choso's door, a mix of anticipation and nervousness coursing through you as you raised your hand up to knock. You rapped twice against the wooden surface. There was a shuffling sound on the other side of the world, one that made your heartrate pick up, and then the door cracked open.

He had one earbud in his ear, the other dangling over his chest. He wore a black wife pleaser and some grey sweats that hung loose over his hips – leaving little to the imagination. He looked so strong, muscular arm braced against the doorframe while the other held it open. His waist was thin, toned, so much so that you could see it through the fabric of his shirt.

He smelled like he had just hopped out of the shower – like cherry and musk. His wet hair was done back into a messy bun. His eyes raked over your trembling form.

With a gentle, familiar grin, he said, “What’s up?”

Your throat felt dry. You swallowed anyway, with a great deal of discomfort, averting your wide-eyed gaze. Ignoring the way your eyes lingered over the pale skin of his toned navel revealed where his tank had ridden up, over the v line that dipped down into his waistband, over the neatly trimmed trail that led down south . 

“Do… Do you have scissors?” You asked him. You didn’t like how timid you sounded, or the way your stomach churned at the sight of him.

He paused for a moment, and somehow you knew he was looking at you. You were suddenly very glad you had worn a fitted v-neck tee shirt today, one that would have provided him with a bird’s eye view of your cleavage.

He’s looking at me. 

“Yeah,” he muttered quietly, stepping away from the door and into his room. You had only wandered into Choso’s quarters a few times with Yuuji, usually to steal something from him while he wasn’t home. You had never really taken the time to notice the band posters taped up over his walls, the black sheets on his bed, the clothes scattered over his floor in typical teenage boy fashion.

You poked your head in, taking a quick look around while his muscular back was turned. Ultimately, it was him you wound up gawking at, hungry eyes following the well-defined curve of his back into his slim waist, the curve of his bubble butt.

You looked away just as he had turned around. If he noticed you staring, he didn’t say anything. A red pair of scissors dangled from his curled finger. 

“Here,” was all he said, offering the tool to you. 

You didn’t know when conversations between the two of you had gotten to be so tense, so strained. It used to come effortlessly. These days, however, it seemed as if you were always trying to run away from conversation with him.

You took it from him gently, dying a bit more inside when his large fingers brushed against yours, offering a slight nod in return. “Thanks.”

16 and 18, now.

You had texted Choso asking for his help on a particularly difficult math assignment. He was older, after all, you didn’t doubt that he was better equipped to complete the homework than you were.

That was the first time you had ever hung out alone with him. Without Itadori. 

You would never forget the way the atmosphere changed when he sat close to you at the kitchen table. The way your skin prickled with electricity beneath his hesitant touch. He poked fun at you and your incompetence. You didn’t even care, not when he was sitting so close to you.

Alone.

The possibilities that filled your mind were less than holy.

Tensions were at an all time high. He had leaned over to help you, breath ghosting over the shell of your ear, when it finally snapped.

When you met his gaze with uncertainty in your eyes, making no real effort to put any distance between you and the man you had been pining after for so many years. In that moment, you saw it – saw him, saw that he finally looked at you as something more than just a girl.

Saw the way his gaze softened as he leaned into you. You let him get closer, close enough that his nose brushed against the tip of yours. 

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” You remarked, even though you ached to be trapped in this moment with him a while longer.

He licked his lips, murmuring, “You’re probably right.”

Nothing compared to the delicate brush of his lips against yours as the two of you finally met in the middle, The way fireworks blew up in your gut. The way he cradled your cheek gently in the palm of his hand, crossing that unspoken boundary that the two of you had been toeing for so long.

Though you had made out with a few guys before, in your eyes, you had shared your first kiss with Choso in the kitchen that night. The first of many to come .

The summer between 16 and 17 was spent sharing secret moments with him behind doors, between appearances. 

You sat on the couch next to Itadori, trapped in the second installment of a film series the two of you had been watching yesterday. You were wearing a zip-up hoodie over your school uniform. 

You had come over to do homework. Just like yesterday, though, you wound up fucking around. 

Itadori was far too engrossed in whatever was happening on screen to notice his brother leaving the kitchen just a few feet off to the side. He looked you up and down, dark eyes reaching into your soul and picking you apart at the seams. With a barely noticeable motion, he nodded towards the stairs.

You nodded back, heart thrumming wildly in your chest.

Choso gripped the meat of your ass in his hands, throwing your legs around his waist while his mouth danced against yours. You tossed your arms around his shoulders, head reeling from how effortlessly he had picked you up. He walked the two of you backwards until your back hit the door. 

He continued to ravage you against that surface, too, tongue slipping in between your lips and exploring your mouth. You trembled against him, trying your best to keep up with him.

It felt so good – being pressed up against him, being given his attention. You wished it was more than secret kisses here and there, of course, but you would take what you could get.

“Missed you,” he hummed against your lips. 

You didn’t even care if that was the line he used on all of the other girls. In that moment, all that mattered was his lips against yours, his hands on you, his attention.

You snaked your hands up the back of his neck and into his hair, twisting some of the dark strands between your fingertips. “I should really get back soon,” You gasped, relishing in the way his kisses felt up and down your neck.

He relented, letting you down. You pressed one more chaste kiss to his lips.

“Didn’t mean to keep ‘ya,” he chuckled lowly, breaths still heavy from the makeout session you had been having only seconds before. He nodded towards the door behind you. “Get back out there.”

You nodded wordlessly, opening the door. With one final smile, you slipped behind it. You felt like you were floating as your legs carried you down the stairs and into the living room. You didn’t even care how disheveled you looked.

Thankfully, Yuuji didn’t notice the way you were wiping your mouth on the back of your hand as you plopped onto the couch beside him. He also didn’t notice when his brother wandered down the stairs a few minutes later, or the way he smiled knowingly at you before disappearing into the kitchen.

You were 17 when Choso left for college. He was 19 when his brother had thrown him a going-away party.

There were 10 of you in the living room, a few of Yuuji and his childhood friends all gathered around the coffee table. A movie was on. Some of them were engrossed in a card game in the corner of the room. 

You and Choso lingered behind the group, situated comfortably on the couch behind all of the action. He was sitting so close that your thighs brushed against his, so close that it felt like he, too, wanted to savor the moment before interacting with you became a rarity. Before he moved out and started a new life somewhere hours away.

He didn’t voice any of these feelings, keeping his dark eyes unreadable and steady on the movie that Yuji had put on in the background. Selena Gomez was playing from a speaker somewhere behind the couch.

You almost wanted to lean your head on his shoulder. Almost. Never mind the fact that everyone would see it.

You distinctly remember the way he shifted closer to you when you pulled out a blanket. You let him make the bold move, seemingly unfazed by the potential audience only feet away from the two of you. 

He tossed the plush blanket over his legs. The lights were dim. Dim enough that they wouldn’t see the way your face flushed at the proximity.

Sixteen minutes passed. You felt like you were going to explode.

Somewhere along the way, though it’s all a bit fuzzy now, you remember feeling his hand creep down beneath the blanket to rest on your thigh. You fought to remain composed, even though the darkness undoubtedly shrouded whatever it was that Choso was planning to do.

He lingered over the skin on your thighs left bare by the shorts you had chosen to wear. His finger traced over you, igniting fire in your nerves. Again, you said nothing, letting him go about tracing shapes on your thigh while his face remained stoic and composed.

You glanced between him and the blanket. You couldn’t see the imprint of his hand moving, somehow, but you could practically feel the heat radiating from beneath it when his index finger slipped between your thighs. 

19 years old. Two years had never seemed so far apart. When he was the age you were now, you recalled his voice being quite a few pitches higher. The same voice that had dropped even lower over the last year, now drawing you closer to him as he murmured into your ear, “Can I touch you?”

Parting your legs infinitesimally, you wordlessly granted him entrance. His fingers dipped down, ghosting over your cotton panties in a way that had you wondering how well of a disguise the dim lighting really was.

“What if they see us?” You had whispered back, even quieter. None of them had bothered to turn back. Even still, you wondered if one of them had X-Ray vision.

His voice seemed even deeper as it vibrated against your side. “You’ll be quiet for me, won’t you?”

The moment his fingers dipped beneath the waistband of your panties, you knew you were in no position to disagree.

Yuuji and his friends were none the more wiser. Yuji didn’t notice when you whined quietly, letting him slip two fingers into your aching cunt, or when his brother worked you open on his fingers. 

He didn’t notice when the two of you had left to make out heatedly in the pantry, right against the box of assorted chips, right where anyone could walk in, turn on the light, and see you there pressed up against him disappeared to the pantry for ten minutes. 

Though the moment you returned to see him glancing at you with a curious brow raised, you knew he had finally caught on. Even if he didn’t say anything about it.

It would be another three months before you would see Choso again.

I obviously do not own jjk or anything related to it. please do not reproduce, copy, or translate my works anywhere. dont fk w me im a bruja.

taglist: @missphanosaur18 ,

wanna join the ' choso kamo ' taglist?| bfb; chapter index

[plusultraetc]

👀👀 you mentioned a sports festival rant?

YES Sports Festival rant!! When I answered this ask about MHA favorites, I 'jotted down a couple of notes about the Sports Festival' which turned into like. A 1.5k word essay. In my defense, this arc truly does have it all, the good, the bad, and the ugly. There's so much to talk about here that 1.5k words doesn't even begin to cover it!!

The Good:

So until now I have been a predominantly anime fan who occasionally reads the manga when I need a quick refresher on something, or I just want to reexperience a chapter through a slightly different lens. That being said, I haven't read through the Sports Festival arc in its entirety, so my opinions are based on the anime, and in the anime, this is genuinely such a fun arc to watch. It has a similar low-stakes-high-energy vibe to Joint Training; the audience is properly introduced to so many new characters and their quirks; and there are some really great emotional beats throughout (shoutout to Todoroki vs Sero. I am HAUNTED by the entire stadium in awe of Todoroki's instant-win juxtaposed with Midoriya thinking 'In that moment, he looked very sad to me.' That split-second moment where Todoroki wonders if not using his father's quirk really makes him any less Endeavor's son? HAUNTED.)

MY PERSONAL FAVORITE PART OF THE ARC: Aizawa & Present Mic's stand up comedy routine in the commentator's booth. They had no reason to be as funny as they were. 'There you have it folks, Eraserhead is a terrible teacher' I mean. I did write a fic about the circumstances leading up to the comedy routine and it is,, not super lighthearted but let's ignore that for now and focus on the silly. I WILL SAY, something else Sports Festival does is constantly remind me that characters like Aizawa, Mic, Midnight, and All Might are products of UA and, in turn, of pro hero society. Those first three especially are products of an All Might-centric pro hero society, which adds another messy layer to the things they are willing to accept and even encourage. Huge brainrot about the pro hero house of cards balanced on the wobbly table that is All Might forever!!

Midoriya is really at his most Midoriya in this arc also. I personally think Izuku is at his best when his ingenuity and empathy are the focus (these are character traits that imo become less and less prominent as the show goes on and his focus shifts to becoming stronger. You can probably pinpoint the exact moment where his priorities change (at least I think so?) and then you could probably write an essay about trauma and responsibility and cry). ANYWAY, early Midoriya is Very Worried All The Time about doing exactly as All Might says, which is why it is so so important that he does not win the Sports Festival. The Festival is kind of a microcosm of the pro hero world, with the medal ceremony being the parallel/precursor for hero rankings. Coming in first place/being Number One is a big big deal in this arc, as always. Izuku's most impactful moment is when he prioritizes something (or someone) else over that coveted first place medal, in spite of how badly he wants to impress All Might and be worthy of his legacy. He was just a really good bean in this arc okay???

The "Bad" (but no less interesting!):

As wonderful as it was to see the pro heroes come to the rescue at USJ, the Sports Festival is here to remind us that, in so many ways, this world is a dystopia. It's not just because of the Hunger Games-esque nature of watching children fight each other & broadcasting it worldwide for entertainment and profit. When you think about it, the Sports Festival is kind of like college-level sports, just with superpowers and high schoolers (there's even a recruitment aspect. It's literally like MHA college football). And sure, fighting each other with superpowers is considerably more violent than your average sport, but they do have people with healing quirks like Recovery Girl on standby. Even serious injuries can literally be undone in seconds. What makes the college sports-ification of hero school so weird is the 'hero' part. Like, not only are you already indoctrinating your future heroes (who have so much relatively unchecked power & responsibility as pros) into the hero/celebrity culture super early on, but the students are competing to impress current pros, secure a good internship, and further their careers. Like. You're essentially teaching them that being a good hero = putting on a good show. Maybe if the point wasn't to 'win' an internship it wouldn't be so strange to me but as is? Wild. Really fun bit of worldbuilding. I am spinning it in my head like a carnival prize wheel.

I also want to take a minute to talk about the medal ceremony here. I thiiink that Bakugou being chained to the podium is meant to be comedic(?), kind of a 'look how mad he is, they literally had to drag him out here' moment, but the conflation of hero/villain imagery in this scene. Omg. Again, the medal ceremony is like a mini hero ranking (that he has won!!!) but the only other time we've seen a muzzle-like thing like the one Bakugou is wearing is on a villain in the first episode. To bring that back at this moment?? The bars of my enclosure. The bars of my english degree. Agh.

I actually mentioned this around the time I posted that very silly Sports Festival fic for Monoma’s birthday, but can we talk about how 1-A IMMEDIATELY turns on each other during this arc? Like?? They’re a MESS. Obv the writing reason for this is that there needs to be competition to make this competition arc interesting (and it succeeds!) but 1-A’s immediate willingness to go for the jugular gets Really Awkward when you realize they are literally the only class that does this—and, what’s more, that there is literally no reason for them to do this. Unnamed 1-C student #3 is right: the other first year classes are only participating in the Festival to make the hero students look good. We know this because the first challenge—the obstacle race—is literally designed to eliminate non-Hero Course students from the competition. Even if hero students didn’t have (generally) more powerful quirks and more training than everyone else, the very first obstacle in the race is the Hero Course Entrance Exam robots—ie, a challenge the hero students have already beaten, but that disqualified students from other courses from admission. Even deliberately hanging back and doing recon, 1-B is able to get all of their students through the obstacle race. Then, after the Cavalry Battle, we see 1-B once again demonstrating a level of maturity and support that the vast majority of 1-A severely lacks. I know I sound like Monoma rn, but I think this has a lot to do with the fact that, as we continue to see throughout the series, 1-A takes a lot of their cues from Midoriya and Bakugou and, to a lesser extent because he’s so quiet, Todoroki. Later, this is a good thing, because the mini big three pushes their class to be the best they can be, but here, these three characters are in shambles—insecure and off-kilter and desperate to prove something, and that energy very much spreads to their peers--which I personally think is great bc it makes for good TV and leaves lots of room for character growth!

The Ugly:

You have no idea how tempted I am to just put a picture of Stain here. He would deserve it for what he did to my man Tensei. I actually love Stain as a villain but SPEAKING OF WHAT HE DID TO MY MAN TENSEI.

The show tells you how important the Sports Festival is. Everyone treats it like it’s the Olympics, except fifty times more important. UA students are scouted by pro heroes and agencies during the event, and putting on a good show can literally change the course of your career (just as doing poorly can ruin it before you even get a chance to graduate). More sports analogies! This makes sense. But the thing is, countless pros show up to watch the event in person. Even more provide security. Literally my first thought was, if I was a criminal I would commit so many crimes during the Sports Festival. Who tf would be around to stop me? And then I had a good laugh because we actually see Shigaraki watching the Festival and I was like ‘oh, there isn’t a spike in villain attacks because the villains are watching it too lol.’

But THEN, Tensei gets attacked by Stain ON THE DAY OF THE FESTIVAL. So there are still heroes out hero-ing and villains out villain-ing, and it’s probably way easier to do the latter when everyone from All Might to Endeavor and beyond are watching teenagers beat the tar out of each other. But you’ve gotta scout those future interns and sidekicks so what are you gonna do!! Once again, the Sports Festival is a microcosm of pro hero popularity society—it’s this insulated little bubble where everyone is so worried about how they look, where they ranked, who they beat to that podium, while the real world carries on outside. Iida himself is distracted by that shiny first place medal until Stain attacking his brother body slams him back to reality.

[thecollectivefixation]

POPPY PLAYTIME chapter 3 analysis… PART 2

ALRIGHT IT'S QUEEN AGAIN. I know, I know... IM STILL NOT DONE WITH POPPY PLAYTIME. But guys... I hadn't covered everything in the last post and obviously there are still many questions left unanswered. I'm going to see where these questions go and what answers I might be able to come up with. But hey, enjoy the ride! 😘💪

__

So first off, I didn't talk about the reversed audio that appeared during the hallway sequence after going into 'home sweet home.’ 😤😤😩THE ONLY REASON i didn't, was because I didn't hear it previously in the gameplay I was watching. However, I was just searching around other peoples gameplays and I heard this audio and so I decided to find out what it actually says.

[hallway sequence during ‘Home Sweet Home’]

The audio reveals: “I find your presence intrusive. After all this time you return, you come in here and you kill and murder, you pillage and destroy! Your presence was demanded 10 years ago and you didn't show up! 8/8/1995, you were supposed to be here. Why weren't you here? You missed the event, you missed the meeting, you missed the party! You have no right to be here. 8/8/1995."

So this confirms that ‘the hour of joy' did happen on the 8/8/1995 and that the game is placed 10 years after. Also what may confirm that we, as the protagonist came back because of guilt, is the writing on the floor. While walking through the halls as the reversed audio plays, what can be seen on the floor is the words: 'Guilt Haunts You’ These words also appear on other places such as walls.

[GUILT HAUNTS YOU]

Before this sequence we walked into red gas that seemingly makes us either hallucinate or fall into a gas-induced sleep. But either way Catnap can somehow control the people who inhale this gas, and perhaps the hallucinations they have from it. This can be proved by Catnap speaking through the radios and appearing for split seconds to stalk the protagonist.

[Walking into the gas-filled room]

Furthermore, it's interesting how the reversed audio was so accusatory. This further expands on the theory that the protagonist is an important figure in Playtime co. The experiments, or seemingly just Catnap wanted us there, 'demanded our presence' to be there.

Also you may be wondering who was speaking on the reversed audio. I believe Catnap was the one speaking, this is the most likely answer since during one of the tapes Catnap said a line and the voice he had was the same exact voice that was in the reversed audio. There are other theories but l'm sure it was Catnap speaking since he could have also been the one telling us "Don't move. Don't move an inch” and “Get up” during the end of the sequence as he was watching/stalking us the whole time.

Now, another question that we may be thinking about is, what happened to all the children in the Play-care orphanage during 'The Hour of Joy'? Now we know that many of the kids were used as test subjects for the experiments in order to find the secret to immortality or resurrect people who had passed away- Elliot Ludwigs child, for example. But there wasn't just a couple children living in the orphanage, there had to be lots more that hadn't been used for experiments yet.

[past children running through halls]

We know from Miss Delights conversation with Catnap the he locked the children away somewhere so Miss Delight couldn't get to them, and all the employees died. But Catnap said the children were safe, so what happened to them? The answer to this is that... We don't know yet! There are many, many theories out there and some say that perhaps they all got eaten, had already been turned into toys or are probably still alive out there, somewhere...

We have to assume that if they were still alive, the children didn't leave the factory because i mean, it should be obvious to the outside world if dozens of orphans came out from the ground and suddenly rejoined society. 😭 We know that there was a food shortage years after the events of ‘The Hour of Joy’ so it's hard to fully assume the children could have survived ten years in the factory, but really, who knows?

Obviously they didn't intend to kill the children, since Catnap wouldn't have locked the children away from Miss Delight. There's also another theory that says the prototype was using the poppy flowers to continue the experiments with the remaining kids, to turn itself human again. BUT! We won't be finding out until possibly the next chapter.

[Playcare underground orphanage]

About Miss Delight and the lore surrounding her, I don't really know a lot other than her conversation with Catnap from the tape and that she is one of the worst of the monster murders that occurred during ‘The Hour of Joy’. However I have read around that she was once a kind and sweet teacher, but when ‘The Hour of Joy' happened, her and her sisters were locked in a room by Catnap.

[miss delight]

Notes found in the game during the school section reveal that Miss Delight slowly succumbed to madness and went insane. She formed a makeshift weapon and called it Barb, even considering it as a living person later on (which is crazy 🙀). According to the notes scattered around in the school, being locked in the school for so long after ‘The Hour of Joy’ and being singled out by the other teachers to die first caused Miss Delight to go as far as cannibalising the rest of the teachers/her sisters, stemming from her desperation to survive.

Her desperation would soon develop into a twisted, sick obsession for bloodshed. Had Catnap not hidden the children from Miss Delight, she would have killed them all as well. 😔☝️

I know there are so many more secrets and questions needed to be answered but that's all I have for today. Poppy Playtime chapter 3 has shined new light on so many new possibilities and now that so much has been revealed, I'm sure that we will be able to come to a conclusion soon. Thanks all for listening, see you — IN THE NEXT CHAPTER!!!!!

— Queen.

[pourcap]

thoughts: kr chapter 14

Damen spent two fruitless hours with Nikandros trying to plot a course (...), until Laurent wandered in and outlined a plan so outrageous that Damen had said yes with the feeling that his mind was splitting apart. how much pleasure do you think laurent got out of damen going with his plan instead of nikandros'?

(...) the young, triple-crowned Pallas, Lazar, who had whistled at him, (...) i would like a pallas x lazar spinoff

(...) Damen tried not to think too deeply about the reasons why Laurent thought it necessary to bring a physician. i reread chapter 13 and honestly i wouldn't be surprised if damen was worried about injury while laurent was planning for something else, like jokaste said: "he has his own plans." idk what he's expecting to happen but maybe the 'outrageous plan' and paschal being with them means more? ugh no idea

(...) ‘I see. My wife is the leverage for my good behaviour?’ ‘That’s right,’ said Laurent. is it just me or is easily admitting to something not really characteristic of laurent? i want to know how he said it. was it just "that's right" or was it "that's right" with a glint of "you're so dumb" flickering in his eyes? every chapter i read i think of that one part in book 1 (i think??) where damen tells laurent he doesn't think laurent does anything without ten different motives (that's me paraphrasing obv, i can't remember the exact words :/)

Damen dropped the pitcher. stop

Laurent’s arms were bare. His throat was bare. His collarbone was bare, and most of his thighs, his long legs, and all of his left shoulder. Damen stared at him. horny damen is back!!!! <3333

Laurent sat down. (...) It was even shorter sitting down. he's not even listening, is he?

'Yes. Sorry,’ said Damen. And then: ‘What were you saying?“ lmao i loooove damen so much

They had only twelve soldiers. Twelve-ish, amended Damen, thinking of Paschal and Guion. let me repeat that: i love damen (and his sass)

of course nikandros disagrees. remember when laurent asked damen if he thought nikandros would like him? i guess we all know the answer lol (maybe someday ☻)

'I wish to restate my strong objection,’ said Nikandros. ‘It’s noted,’ said Damen. I LOOOVE DAMEN

Even so, Damen heard himself saying. ‘You can’t just barge in on—’ ‘Open the wagon,’ said the Captain, ignoring him. if only this dude knew who he's really speaking to

also how are they getting out of this lol

Laurent stepped out of the wagon, (...). He said, ‘How did you convince Jokaste to play along with the guards?’ ‘I didn’t,’ said Laurent. no way

He tossed the wad of blue silk in his hands to one of the soldiers to dispose of, then shrugged into his jacket in a rather mannish gesture. IN A RATHER MANNISH GESTURE

laurent is so hot

i'm so sorry but he's literally so hot

"Don't think about it too much,' said Damen. can you believe how far laurent and damen have come? the easy acceptance of each other's personalities, the appreciation for how much they've helped and will continue to help each other by one person making up for what the other lacks, the absence of judgement? and just, in general, how well they know each other by now? i just love them. i love them.

Laurent held out his hand to escort her back from the supply wagon into the main wagon, a bored Veretian gesture. Her eyes had the same bored look as she took his hand. ‘You’re lucky we’re alike,’ she said, stepping down. They looked at one another like two reptiles. i imagine nikandros staring at damen right now and i know exactly what his face would look like

(...) ‘I’ll be swift, and I’ll take our best rider with me.’ ‘That’s me,’ said Laurent, wheeling his horse. i just think they're very sexy

'The undergrowth was thinner when I was a boy.’ ‘Or you were.' stop flirting omg (jk pls go on)

damen constantly thinking about all the nice places he wants to take laurent and the people he wants to introduce him to and the memories he wants to make with him... it's doing things to me. he's so in love. they're so in love. <3

'You left the dress in the wagon,’ said Damen. ‘Thank you, I do have other ways of getting past a sentry.' yay more flirting!

'You’re late,’ said Damen. ‘I brought you a souvenir.’ Laurent tossed Damen an apricot. Damen could feel the quiet exultation of Laurent’s men, while the Akielons looked a little dazed. laurenttttt (i said that with a squeal)

‘Is this how you do things in Vere?’ ‘You mean effectively?’ said Laurent. (...) lauuuureeeennttttt <33333 (he's so cute and i love him and i know damen's competency kink just flared up again but can laurent pls stop needling nikandros lol)

(...) Earlier, Laurent had tossed Damen his bedroll and said, ‘Unpack this,’ and Pallas had almost challenged him to a duel for the insult. (...) imagine if pallas knew even half of all that happened between damen and laurent lol. also it's not like damen is a perfect gentleman but, you know. i appreciate the loyalty (and love pallas)

Damen poured a shallow cup of wine and passed it to the soldier beside him (Pallas), and there was a long silence in which Pallas stood obviously garnering every piece of courage that he had to reach out and take it. damen is so good to his men; i love that he knows pallas meant well, so this is a nice gesture. also, bc it's just impossible to ignore: damen is so hot.

Laurent strolled up to the impasse, threw himself down on the log next to Damen, and in an expressionless voice launched into the story of the brothel adventure that had earned him the blue dress, which was so unabashedly filthy it made Lazar blush, and so funny it had Pallas wiping his eyes. (...) i just got super emotional bc remember when in the beginning of book 2, damen told laurent he needed to bond with his men in a way that wasn't just manipulation and laurent said he didn't have time for that? i love that it's happening now, and has of course been happening for a while, but that laurent is coming more out of his shell and actually enjoying himself now and then.

Pallas did a decent impression of Paschal’s riding. Lazar watched Pallas with lazy admiration. It wasn’t the impression he was admiring. Damen bit into the apricot. 1) i will read all the lazar x pallas fics there are. 2) damen always noticing the soldiers flirting is so funny to me. first jord and aimeric, now these two

laurent and damen lying side by side under the stars ahhhhh

'You smell of horse,’ said Damen. ‘It’s how I got past the dog.' whyyyy am i so emotional? can you believe i'm crying over damen saying laurent smells lol

'You want me wandering around the Akielon countryside naked at night?’ And then, ‘You smell just as much of horse as I do.’ ‘More,’ said Damen. He was smiling. he was smiling !!!! and i am crying now :)

'They’re Artesian. Aren’t they? From the old empire, Artes. They say it used to span both our countries.' bring it back! bring back artes!

Damen heard himself say it. ‘There’s a summer palace in Ios outside the capital. (...)' His pulse beat with uncharacteristic nerves, so that he felt almost shy. ‘When all this is over . . . we could take horses and stay a week in the palace.’ (...) He felt Laurent holding himself carefully, and there was a strange pause. After a moment, Laurent said, softly, ‘I’d like that.’ you know how i just said i was crying? i am sobbing now :) damen and laurent both being shy and cute and in love and full of yearning for peace and happiness 😭 I love them so much 😭

that was such a good chapter :')

[leikeliscomet]

No, Ncuti Gatwa's Casting Isn't Regressive

Chapter 1 - For Black Boys?

The general consensus of male companions is they don’t really stand out like their female peers. If I said ‘iconic male companion’ I doubt many people would think of Adric. However, some are still loved by certain parts of fandom regardless. Rory’s nerdiness turned bravery has gotten him a small stanbase. Captain Jack is loved by many especially as he was an openly bisexual character, being Nuwho’s earliest example of queer representation. Or Wilf, whose light-hearted personality and humour engaged so many (Rest in Peace Bernard Cribbins). Black male companions on the other hand didn’t really get those types of flowers, let alone reaching Clara Oswald or Rose Tyler levels of popularity. The amount of lead Black men in Who is little (3 to be exact) and from them, their stories didn’t reach the icon status of the other companions of the show. And the reasons why unfortunately weren’t that surprising.

The first Black male companion was Mickey Smith. Mickey played the role of the scared boyfriend of Rose Tyler, simping after her as she ran off with a mysterious Ninth Doctor. Nine’s best-of-the-best mentality meant there wasn’t a Mickey shape in the TARDIS to fill in. The two would constantly have nitpicky back and forths putting Rose in the position of having to ‘choose’ her man. But her mind was made up. Rose and Mickey split by the end of the season with Mickey revealing his fling with a Ms Trisha Delaney. It wasn’t a universe-defying breakup where the galaxies tried to separate them but instead a case of two people with different wants and needs calling it quits. That doesn't sound too bad on paper, right? But unfortunately, RTD gave Mickey Smith a pre-Martha Jones arc, where so much of his arc would be dedicated to his failure to live up to a Rose Tyler standard. Despite Rose’s contributions to the RoseMickey split and how both characters had cheated on the other, both RTD and the fandom had given Mickey most of the blame. Mickey’s relationship with NineRose would eventually warm up towards the end of series 1, agreeing with Nine that Rose travelling was what she wanted and her council estate days were over. Series 2 decided to flip this on its head however, having Ten and Mickey being a lot more hostile towards each other. From Rose’s eyerolls to Ten forgetting Mickey’s existence it was clear the TenRose TARDIS team only had room for two. After getting fed up with his Tin Dog treatment, Mickey decided to stay in Pete’s World a little longer. The last of his official arc would be his return in the series 2 finale, gun-slinging against Daleks and Cybermen. He wouldn’t return until series 4 for the 2008 Dalek Invasion and a cameo with Martha Jones announcing their offscreen marriage. Although creating a small Mickey Smith standom, Mickey’s time in RTD1 was rough. He was mainly reduced to a comic relief or punching bag for the main white characters, having little room for his own developments. And the ones he did have, such as his absentee father, dead grandma and random Martha marriage were brief moments and not really enough to fully flesh him out.

Moffat gave us another Black male lead in Danny Pink. Although not a companion, Danny would be the math teaching counterpart to Clara Oswald and his conflict with TwelveClara would actually serve a narrative purpose. Unlike RoseMickey, our main companion would choose her boyfriend over the moody Time Lord although it was only briefly. Danny’s soldier past would have him demonised both in show and fandom, from Twelve’s bias against soldiers to Clara’s uncertainty to many TwelveClaras keeping him at arm's length and even going as far as to call him abusive. Danny, like Mickey, wasn’t super popular Black male representation either. Just as Nine and Ten made it clear Mickey wasn’t welcome, Twelve’s issue with ‘PE’ made it clear the two weren’t besties either. Danny would have to prove to Twelve he was worthy of Clara’s love and this would be achieved through his cyber-self sacrifice in the series 8 finale. Obviously, a child murderer would not be a fan favourite overnight, especially from the POV of a former solder Time Lord who’d suffered the consequences of war himself. However, series 8 established Twelve’s arc of moral ambiguity and potential for change, where he’d go on to question the type of man he was; good, bad, both or neither. Yet, Danny Pink was irredeemable. Whether we personally believe Danny deserved a second chance or not, he wasn’t given one like his white counterparts. To the fandom, Twelve and Clara’s actions were the byproduct of context and factors, heart-wrenching decisions in situations they couldn’t control. But Danny Pink was irredeemable, evil and the worst character of Moffat Who. Twelve and Clara were compelling. Danny Pink was trash. In fact, Missy, who’d claimed more lives than Mr Pink ever did would be set up for her own moral ambiguity arc, taking the iconic Time Lord villain and questioning if they could ever become good in their first female incarnation. Against a narrative of growth and change, a white woman’s redemption would be set up for a greater arc that would end at the end of Moffat’s run itself, with most fans supporting her growth and potential, whilst a Black man’s was found in his death to protect the other white characters. Danny’s final appearance would be in Last Christmas where he and Clara shared their final goodbyes. TwelveClara’s arc would continue in series 9 and Danny’s name was never mentioned again.

Chibnall introduced us to the first Black male companion to travel full-time, Ryan Sinclair.  Despite this achievement, Ryan would somehow have even less visibility than Danny and Mickey. Ryan’s arc was simpler, focusing on his ability to ride a bike with his dyspraxia. He wouldn’t achieve this goal, not as a slight but as a small commentary on how disability wasn't something to be fixed and instead a part of people’s everyday lives. Ryan’s dyspraxia was heavily critiqued for being written inconsistently and so would many other aspects of his character. His missing YouTube channel post-series 11, his way of mentioning his dead nan each episode and his relationship (or lack thereof) with his dad were seen as many misses in the writing department. Even after losing his nan, most gun-wrenching heartfelt moments about her death were given to Graham instead. Along with this, there was and still is harsh criticism of Tosin Cole’s acting (which ironically hasn’t stopped him from securing lead roles in House Party and Supacell, making him a breakout star of the Chibnall era). Series 12 wouldn’t help Ryan’s case either as after the initial Tim Shaw storyline ended with Graham and Ryan finding a type of closure for Grace, Ryan would slip further back in the queue for priority characters. With the return and new incarnation of the Master, the Fugitive Doctor reveal, the Timeless Child, Ashad the Lone Cyberman and the hunt for the Cyberium, there wasn’t really room for a new companion arc for any of the fam, let alone Ryan specifically. At most, he got a small subplot involving shooting a basketball hoop, similar to his bike-riding storyline. This would only be relevant in two episodes; its introduction and a small scene of him teaming up with Ko Sharmus to take out some Cybermen. His dad whom we were introduced to in series 11 wouldn’t return in this series either, missing the opportunity for a follow-up from that storyline. Instead, we got Tibo, similar to Amy and Rory’s Mels, a companion’s alleged best friend who we never saw in the previous season. This friendship wouldn’t play a key role either and Tibo was reduced to irregular small appearances. Ryan would be ready to leave in Revolution of the Daleks with a wallet of psychic paper. No new YouTube video or completed mechanic NVQ in sight. The Chibnall era companions already faced a fair share of unpopularity and plenty of ‘cardboard cut-out’ allegations. In most companion polls, Ryan tends to sit at the bottom with his grandad Graham following close behind. 

This isn’t to say Mickey, Danny or Ryan are blips in Doctor Who’s universe and had no impact whatsoever but that they all suffered due to a lack of meaningful writing. Mickey and Danny mainly served to facilitate white characters and many of their scenes functioned as reminders of how much the Doctor hated them. Ryan on the other hand, despite having what was supposed to be his own arc as a full-time companion, had to share screentime with two others on top of Thirteen’s arc as well. Thirteen and Yaz’s narratives stretched across three series whilst he only got two, and those two were already packed with a lot of other narratives. In the same way the treatment of Martha and Bill reflects the show’s issues in representing Black women, the treatment of these characters shows the issue in the show’s representations of Black men. The vulnerabilities of Black manhood are rarely portrayed in mainstream media due to the stereotypes of Black men being tough, aggressive and hypermasculine (key examples being the Black Brute trope or Thug trope). Even though I wouldn’t argue Mickey, Danny or Ryan fit these tropes exactly, their treatment reflects the antiblackness Black men experience; the false idea of inevitable struggle that Black men are supposed to ‘handle’ because of their ‘inherent’ strength. Across genders, Black characters are made to feel like they have to ‘work’ and ‘earn’ their spot in the TARDIS or ‘work’ to be worthy of the Doctor’s attention, which can feel like a barrier when it comes to feeling represented by this show. The Fugitive Doctor was a step forward, moving beyond Black characters as the companions but an attempt at a Black doctor, a Black main character. But with the Fugitive reduced to cameo roles and the end of the Chibnall era, this never came through. The main options seem to be Tin Dog or three seconds of screen time. Gatwa’s casting can not only be an attempt to build from the sidelining of the Fugitive but also provide a form of Black male representation the show has never done before, building on the neglect of Mickey, Danny and Ryan. The only way to move when you’re stuck at the bottom is upwards.

<- Intro

Chapter 2 ->

[lampmanliveblogs]

Yesterday's Lie, Today's Truth, Tomorrow's Promise chapter 2 (beta)

Heeey, y'all remember that Vee fic I've been toiling away at? I finally, just now, five minutes ago, got the second chapter done. Sorta, anyway. This bad boy ended up being just over 10 000 words long... and it was originally supposed to be longer, but I decided to split it into two.

I havenät run this through any spellcheck or grammar check, and I mgiht go back to change some stuff before fnal publication, but I'm probabaly not gonna change too much plot-wise. It took me a long time to get it into a state that works, and I think I did a decent job.

I am planning on actually putting this story up on AO3, but I wanna make sure to have at least the first three chapters done and ready before that. The next chapter should hopefully not be as long as this one.

For now... enjoy!

(oh, and I actually settled on a title!)

(also, i just realized that copy-n-paste didn't copy-n-paste any of the italics... meh, it's 01:00 at night right now and I need my beatuy sleep)

xxXXxx

Lamp Entertainment presents…

The night was growing old, but Masha was wide awake. Lying in Luz’ bed, looking up at the glow-in-the-dark stars glued to the bunk above. They were tired, dead tired, but thoughts buzzed around their head like ten million fireflies, keeping them awake.

Not only were shapeshifters, basilisks, witches, magic, demons, and other worlds real, but shapeshifting basilisks demons from another world filled with magic and witches were real. Masha had spent most of summer sharing a bunk bed with one, just as they were doing now. It was a lot to take in.

Oh, and the story about the Wittebane brothers meeting a witch? It was true. The brothers had met a real witch, a witch that they had followed back to the Demon Realm, the world of demons and witches. Not only that, but old Philip Wittebane was still alive and kicking, turned into a monster and spending the last four centuries working on a plan to exterminate all witches.

That evil, wicked man was the reason Vee was alive. Vee had been… brief in talking about her origins. Masha knew better than to pry too much, and thank Goddess Marco and Samuel did too. Just telling them about her true identity had obviously been very difficult for her, and if there were things she wasn’t ready to tell them yet, then they shouldn’t pressure her.

Even so, what she did tell them did not paint a pretty picture.

”My name, it’s Vee as in V, as in ’five,’” she had explained, holding up two fingers forming a V. Her voice trembled and her gaze lowered, looking at something far, far away from the comfort and safety of her new home. She took a deep, unsteady breath before speaking again. ”I… am number five. Lab animal number five.”

And all of the sudden it made so much sense why ”Luz” had spent the first few weeks of camp jumping at every sudden sound and always looking over her shoulder. Why she would always sneak out of bed when she thought everyone was sleeping to make sure the door wasn’t locked.

It made Masha’s blood boil. Philip Wittebane better never show his face in Gravesfield again, or so help them…

But… something else troubled on Masha’s mind. They reached down on the floor, grabbing the vaguely clothes-shaped pile of fabric that was their discarded costume. The deck of cards was still in the pocket where they left them, still in the same order. The first three cards were still The Two-Headed Snake, The Light, and The Red String.

They shuffled the deck thoroughly and drew the first three cards again.

The Light. The Red String. The Two-Headed Snake.

What was the chances of drawing the exact same three cards? One in a million?

Maybe there was still some magic in them…

Eventually, Masha drifted off to a sleep filled with dreams they couldn’t remember in the morning.

Chapter 2: For the Future (that we can’t see)

Vee woke up early, before the others. Well, it wasn’t that early, it was just past eight in the morning. But considering the late night, it felt early even as the sun shone through the window.

She spent some time just coiled up in bed, enjoying the comfortable warmth under her two blankets. She thought if going back to sleep, but eventually convinced herself that it was time to rise and shine.

The others were still asleep, so Vee climbed down from her bunk as quietly as she could. Easier said than done when you had a thick tail instead of two nimble legs. Somehow, she made it down without waking anyone up, though that might have had more to do with the fact that her old cabin mates were exhausted after yesterday.

She noticed a deck of Hexas Hold’em cards lying on the floor. She recalled Masha playing with a deck on the day Luz contacted her from the Demon Realm. Vee couldn’t smell any magic left in them, which meant it was probably the same deck. They must’ve fallen out of Masha’s pocket. She gathered them and put them in a neat stack next to their costume.

She slithered silently out the room, past Samuel and Marco in the guest beds that used to belong to Willow and Amity. The whole thing reminded her of summer camp. She’d often wake up before her cabin mates then too, often sneaking out to enjoy the early morning sun. Masha had called camp prison, but as far as Vee was concerned, her first true sense of freedom had come from that place.

Making it down the stairs was one of those things that was a lot more uncomfortable with a tail than it was with a pair of legs, but Vee decided to stay in her true form for a bit longer. For the longest time, even before she made the decision to tell them, there had been an insistent voice in her head telling her that her friends would find her true form repulsive. It was nice to learn that wasn’t the case.

Oh stars, she could barely believe it! She had told them! She really had told them! Even though the thought had terrified her, she had still gone through with it. And it worked out, they didn’t hate her, they didn’t resent her for deceiving them.

There were some things she hadn’t told them. Things she had only ever told Camila, late one night after she woke up screaming from a nightmare. She wanted the truth to be a happy thing, not marred too much by what had been.

Vee was determined to move beyond her past pain. At times, the darkness made itself known at the back of her head, deep within her lizard brain. But she was getting better and better at pushing back. She had optimism for the future.

First things first though. She needed to call Camila’s work to let them know she was going to need a few days off. Vee, being naturally paranoid and a born liar, had already fleshed out a halfway decent story.

It took some convincing and a little bit of improv, but Vee was eventually (imitating Camila’s voice, of course) able to get Camila’s sudden leave accepted.

Once that was done with, Vee began cleaning up the mess in the living room while contemplating what to do with Luz. Should she take on her appearance and go to school as her again? Or should she call the school and inform Luz wouldn’t be coming for a few days? Both alternatives had its ups and downs. On one hand, Vee actually did like school and learning about the Human Realm. And Luz’ grades really did not need to get any worse. On the other hand, keeping up the deception would add another element of complication. Vee was good, but was she that good?

She mulled over it while cleaning up until she heard movement coming from upstairs. She turned to her friends groggily making their way down the stairs.

”Good morning!” she said cheerfully.

”Wow…” Samuel whispered. ”I was halfway convinced I was dreamt up everything,” he said a little louder.

”Not me, cause I’m not that creative,” Marco said.

”I gotta say, I think it would make for a pretty good story,” Samuel continued. ”A demon fleeing from an evil emperor ends up in the world of the humans, accidentally taking the place of a young girl headed for summer camp… yeah, that’s a good story. Maybe I should write a book about it.”

”Don’t you have like fifty-eleven different fanfics you’re already writing?” Masha teased him. Samuel blushed.

”I do finish some of my fanfics,” he said defensively. ”Unlike my thirteenth favorite fanfic writer, The Lampman. That guy couldn’t finish a fanfic if his life depended on it. ”

”I don’t know who that is, but he sounds like a talentless hack,” Marco said.

”I’m sure he’s not that bad,” Vee said. ”Anyway, here I am, very much real. By which I mean ’real-ly hungry.’ Anyone else want breakfast? I’m starving!”

The others agreed that breakfast would be nice. Vee lead them into the kitchen and began fixing some food. One thing the other Cabin 7 members had noticed about ”Luz” was that the way she’d scarf down her food at every meal like she had never eaten before. Which, based on what they now knew of Vee’s past, sadly made a lot of sense. Though that was not the only thing they had noticed about Luz ’ eating habits.

”You used to choke on your food a lot,” Masha observed. They were absentmindedly playing with the deck of Hexas Hold’em cards. ”Was that because you usually swallow your food whole?”

”Yeah, pretty much,” Vee confirmed while frying up some eggs. ”I do have teeth to chew with if I have to, but I usually don’t. Human throats are a lot less flexible than basilisks and I wasn’t used to it.” To demonstrate what she meant, she took an apple lying on the counter and swallowed it whole, making her throat bulge outward.

”Not gonna lie,” Marco said. ”That was a kinda gross.”

”You should see how I eat eggs then,” Vee chuckled. ”The difficult part is spitting the shell out in one piece.”

”Th-thanks, but I think we’ll skip that one,” Samuel quickly interjected. He looked contemplative for a moment. ”Do you have… is it poison or venom? I can never remember the difference.”

”If I bite you and you die, I’m venomous,” Vee explained. ”But if you bite me and you die, then I’m poisonous. And no, I don’t have venom. Don’t know if I’m poisonous though. I might be.”

”What if I bite myself and I die?” Marco asked. ”What does that make me then?”

”Stupid,” Masha said, prompting a good group laugh.

”No new information there,” Marco said between giggles.

The eggs done, the gang sat down at the table. Sitting on chairs designed for human creatures with things like ”legs” and ”butts” was yet another thing that was a bit awkward for Vee. She’d usually just stand at the table, but she decided to sit down this time. Before she sat down, she grabbed a special jar from one of the cabinets.

It had a homemade label, saying in neat handwriting that it was ”For Vee only.” A second pencil had added a small face making a sick face, to which the first pencil responded that ”I told you so.”

Her friends watched with interest as she took four slices of bread and spread thick layers of jar’s contents on them. It looked like some chocolate spread, but with strange lumps in it.

”What is that?” Masha asked finally. ”Is it some kind of special basilisk food?”

”Uh… kinda?” Vee hesitated. ”It’s nutella, with protein powder and, um… wood chips and sand.”

This was met with wide stares.

”Wood chips… and sand?” Samuel asked, as if to make sure he heard it right.

”It’s good for my digestion,” Vee said with a little shrug. ”It was either that, or I keep chewing on twigs I found on the ground. Camila thinks I need a lot of protein, so that’s what the protein powder’s for.”

”And the nutella…?” Masha asked.

”Oh, that’s for taste,” Vee said. Deciding that was enough explanation, she took one the fried eggs and sandwiched it between two bread slices slathered in the cursed nutella. ”I think Demon Realm stomachs are just tougher than human stomachs,” Vee said between bites of her sandwich. ”Luz told me there was a bunch of foods she couldn’t eat in the Demon Realm, but the others didn’t seem to have any problems with anything from here. Well, except for garlic.”

”What, they couldn’t eat garlic?” Masha asked in-between bites of their own sandwich. ”Like vampires?”

”Precisely,” Vee said with a nod.

”Wait, really?” Masha exclaimed, nearly choking on their food. ”Vampires are real? And they can’t stand garlic? That part’s true!?”

”Yes,” Vee said, smiling at the funny face Masha was making.

”Oh, so that’s why you had cloves of garlic next to your bed,” Marco said and nodded a little. ”It’s to keep the vampires away.”

”Kinda. There aren’t any vampires in Gravesfield (I hope), but it makes me feel safer to sleep with it,” Vee explained. ”Hunter said that basilisks and vampires used to be natural enemies, since, well… we both kinda feed on witches… Garlic is deadly to vampires, and since a lot of witches have vampire ancestry, a lot of them have inherited a garlic allergy.” Vee smiled at a memory. ”Willow’s and Gus’ weren’t that bad, but Amity’s was really bad. Luz was devastated, because one piece of garlic bread meant no more kisses for the day.”

That image garnered a few laughs.

”I can’t wait for you guys to meet Luz, the real Luz,” Vee said. ”She’s the coolest! Seh fights Belos and doesn’t afraid of anything.”

”Well, I think you’re pretty cool,” Masha said. They reached out to hold Vee’s hand, soft skin meeting rough scales. ”My whole life I’ve been looking for signs of the supernatural, for ghosts or demons or what have you… but I never ever dreamed of meeting, much less becoming friends with a living, breathing demon!”

Samuel put a hand on Vee’s shoulder.

”And I’m really happy you felt comfortable enough to tell us your secret,” he said. ”I know it couldn’t have been easy. I’m honored you felt you could trust us that much, and I promise you won’t regret it.”

Marco put his hand on Vee’s other shoulder.

”I used to think Cabin 7 was the coolest cabin in Connecticut,” he said. ”Now I know we’re the coolest in the whole world. I mean, who else can say they have a freakin’ shapeshifter as a friend?

”Aw, you guys…” Ve was struggled to hold back tears. She lost that battle, and big warm tears started rolling don her cheeks. ”I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner,” she sobbed. ”I wanted to, but I never dared.”

Masha, Samuel, and Marco acted in unison, standing up to embrace Vee in a big group hug.

”Hey, it’s okay, I know what that’s like,” Masha reassured her. ”Keeping a part of yourself secret even to those that love you… it eats away at you. It took me forever to come out to my parents, even though I knew they’d accept me for who I am… anxiety’s a bitch.”

”Th-thanks,” Vee said. She managed to wriggle one arm free to wipe the tears off her face. ”You guys really are the best.”

They stood huddled together for a minute, until Vee felt her love of hugs starting to give way to her fear of being restrained.

”I’m fine, I promise,” she said, trying to wriggle free of the group hug. ”I’m just so happy is all.”

Eventually, the Cabin 7 crew relented with their physical affection and let her go. They had breakfast to finish after all.

The three humans watched with equal amounts fascination and disgust as Vee ate an entire banana, without peeling it. ”The shell doesn’t taste that good, but hey, it’s the inside that counts, right?” she said. And really, who could argue with logic like that?

Her friends had a few more questions about her biology yet.

”Do you shed your skin like a snake?” Samuel asked while helping to gather the dishes.

”Uh-huh,” Vee hummed, putting the dishes in the sink. She decided to be lazy and do them later. ”I actually shed not too long ago. The old skin’s in a box in the basement, if you wanna see it.”

”…that’s a hard pass for me bro,” Marco said. ”Why would you even keep it?”

”What were we supposed to do, throw it out in the garbage?” Vee asked rhetorically. ”You saw how Jacob acted yesterday. After Camila locked him in his own cage, he hasn’t dared to go after us directly. But I don’t think he’s above digging through the trash to find proof there’s a demon living here. As is, everyone thinks he’s a raving lunatic conspiracy nut. Which, to be fair, he is, he just happened to stumble onto the truth this one time.”

The three friends nodded, for the first time realizing just what it would mean if Jacob actually did get proof of demon presence in Gravesfield. The town had a history of witch hunting already, who’s to say the people of today wouldn’t continue the tradition should they learn of Vee’s presence? Not to mention what the government might do to get their hands on an interdimensional traveler.

”It must’ve been incredibly hard for you,” Masha said. They were still playing with the deck of Hexas Hold’em cards, shuffling them and drawing the first three cards. ”To have to pretend to be someone else, in a world you know nothing about.”

”It wasn’t easy, that’s for sure,” Vee admitted. ”But, well… it’s kinda what we basilisks do. We disguise ourselves, observe, lie, infiltrate, feed, survive… a lot of it was pure instinct. I’m a natural liar.”

Samuel shook his head.

”’Liar’ is a bad word,” he said. ”Very strong, very stigmatized. Say you’re a born actor and a natural talent at improv.”

This made Vee laugh.

”If you say so,” she giggled. She cleared her throat and the next time she spoke, her voice was an exact imitation of Samuel’s. ”A lot of it was instinct. I’m a born actor and a natural talent at improv.”

”You’re so gonna have to help me write my résumé,” Masha said to Samuel, prompting a brief chuckle.

”I’ve been thinking of doing NaNoWriMo this year, so I’ve been practicing how to make sentences longer,” he explained. He then had to spend the next fifteen minutes explaining what that was and deflect questions his friends had about the novel he was totally going to write.

After breakfast was done with and the table cleaned up, a natural question arose:

”So… what now?” Marco asked.

”I’m thinking that maybe I should take over as Luz for a little while,” Vee said. ”But I’m not sure. For now though… I suppose the first order of business is to get Camila’s car back. I know she has a spare key in the key cabinet. So I guess that’s today’s project.”

Masha looked skeptical.

”Do you have a driver’s license?”

”No…” Vee admitted. ”But I can turn into Camila, and I’m sure there’s some other identification lying around I could use. And that’s assuming I even get pulled over, and why would I get pulled over?”

”Normally you’d have a point, but the police have been on edge lately with all the break-ins,” Samuel said. ”My mom told me she’s been pulled over five times in her life, and three of them have been in the last month.”

”I think we’re missing something obvious here guys,” Masha said. ”Vee, do you even know how to drive?”

”I mean… no…” Vee said slowly. ”But I’m sure I could figure it out!”

”…I’m driving it home for you,” Masha stated, not leaving it up for debate.

”Yeah, that’s probably for the best,” Vee conceded.

Before they left, Vee quickly grabbed a few cups of brown pellets that she scarfed down. This made Marco raise an eyebrow… not that you could tell.

”Was that…?”

”Dog food, yes,” Vee sighed, clearly having had this conversation before. ”It’s filling.”

”Wow,” Marco said, not sounding particularly impressed or surprised. To be fair, the Luz he had known at camp did seem like she might eat dog food. ”You weren’t lying when you said you were hungry before.”

”I’m still growing!” Vee said with the smallest hint of a pout. Masha drew their attention away from the deck of cards they’d been playing with, since this sounded interesting. ”I’ve got a lot of growing left before I become an adult. I haven’t even been through second puberty.”

”…second puberty?” Samuel asked.

Vee nodded.

”Yeah, it’s, uh… a thing with us basilisks.You know, like… maturing and stuff.” This did nothing to explain anything. ”Point is, I’ve got a lot of growing left to do, and I gotta eat for that.”

”How big do you think you’re going to be?” Masha asked curiously. ”Or like, how long, I guess?”

”Oh, um…” Vee scratched the back of her head. ”About… twelve to fifteen-”

”Twelve to fifteen feet?” Samuel exclaimed, impressed.

”Noooooo,” Vee said. ”Twelve to fifteen meters.”

There was a pause as the three humans processed this answer.

”Bloody hell’s bells,” Masha finally whispered, their eyes wide with awe.

Marco whistled.

”Big snake,” he said.

”That’s putting it lightly,” Samuel muttered. ”Fifteen meters is bigger than the titanoboa, the biggest snake in the fossil record.”

”Haha, yeah, I got tall genes,” Vee said nervously. She shifted into her human form. ”Shall we get going?”

xxXXxx

Gravesfield was beautiful around this time of the year. The warm browns, oranges, and yellows of the trees suited the quaint little town. The air was clear and crisp, with a hint of winter cold in the wind, though today was an unusually warm and sunny autumn’s day. A perfect day for a nice stroll with friends.

Vee’s three human friends still had a plethora of questions that needed answering, not just about her, but about the world she came from. At the same time, Masha resolved to make good on their offer to give Vee a tour of the town. Since Vee already knew her way around, they resorted to the second best option, their specialty: useless historical trivia. And so the conversation kept bouncing between the magical and the mundane as if dictated by a conversational metronome.

”So on the Boiling Isles, all life and magic comes from the Titan whose body actually makes up most of the isles. All magic is made up of four basic elements, light, fire, ice, and plant. It’s really cool too, because when I eat magic I can taste the different elements. So Amity’s abomination magic, for example, is mostly plant elemental, with a bit of light and hints of fire and ice. Now, Gus’ illusions on the other hand are almost completely light elemental…”

”So you’ve all probably wondered why the library in town is called that, right? Okay, you’ve probably never even thought about it, but R.E.O.S Gravesfield Public Library is a pretty odd name, don’t you think? Turns out the old library burned down in 1931, and since this was during the Great Depression, there wasn’t any money to rebuild it. But as luck would have it, the millionaire industrialist, philanthrope, and hobbyist ghost hunter Robert E.O Speedwagon came to visit Gravesfield in 1933. This place was well-known for being haunted even back then. He didn’t find any ghosts, but he apparently took such a liking to the town that he offered to personally fund the construction of a new library. Thus, it was named after him. Speedwagon was an interesting fella, because he wasn’t born into wealth, no, he started out as a thug on the streets of victorian London…”

”Really, I swear, dog food isn’t that bad. Dogs are supposed to be man’s best friend right? Why would you feed your best friend something that’s gross? Amity, Gus, and Willow tried some, and they didn’t think it was half bad. Then again… Hunter nearly threw up… and so did Luz. Huh…”

”Speaking of ghost hunts, one of my favorites has got to be Mr. Hunter, and he actually visited Gravesfield once. As I recall, he wrote that while he didn’t find any ghosts, there was undoubtedly something eerie about this place that he couldn’t put his finger on. Like a subtle hum in the air, inaudible to the human air but still felt in your body. He visited the old graveyard while they were doing some digging and reburials, so maybe he could somehow sense the presence of the titan’s blood? Because I really do believe some people have extrasensory perception. People will say that ’Oh, the Stargate project never found any psychics,’ but do you really think anyone with real psychic abilities would tell the government? Best case scenario, you get locked up and experimented on for the rest of your life…”

”No, no, I’m not exaggerating, it’s an island on top of the body of an ancient giant. It’s just like that one story you told at camp Masha, about that giant that was killed by some gods who made the world out of its body.”

”Oh, you mean the norse creation myth? I love that one, it’s so metal. So in the beginning, there was a land of fire, a land of ice, and a great gap between them…”

It didn’t take too long for Samuel and Marco both to realize (and the fact that Marco noticed just went to show how obvious it was) that they were being slowly excluded from the conversation. There was no malice or ill will behind it, no. It was more so the fact that Masha and Vee seemed to only have eyes and ears for each other.

Vee looked at Masha with such affection and attention whenever they started talking, you could almost see her ears perk up under her hair. And Masha was always up for talking about history or ghosts or whatever else interested them that day, but the excitement with which they spoke to Vee was unparalleled.

As the odd bunch reached the center of town, it had become pretty clear what was going. Marco and Samuel had unintentionally become the third and fourth wheel on a date.

”Ooh Vee, you’ve got to try the new chai latte they’ve got at Robin’s Roast,” Masha said excitedly. ”Do you boys want anything?” They added, once they remembered the boys existed and were present.

”No thanks, I don’t like coffee,” Samuel declined. ”B’sides, I promised I’d be home by lunch, so I better get going.” He glanced at Marco. As per usual, Marco’s expression was nearly impossible to decipher, but it seemed like he got the hint.

”Yeah, and I only drink water,” he said. This was true; he only ever drank regular water. At most he’d treat himself to some ice water. He had never explained why. ”And I probably should get home as well. See you around!” he said and waved as he and Samuel went on their ways.

”See ya!” Vee said and waved back. She turned to Masha. ”And I’d love to try one of those chai lattes.”

”Great. My treat,” Masha said and started leading Vee towards the cafe.

Vee came to a sudden stop though just before they could enter.

”Oh uh,” she mumbled.

”What’s the matter?” Masha asked.

”Um…” Vee mumbled. ”I… don’t really wanna see her,” she whispered and gestured at someone through the window.

Masha took a peek inside the almost empty cafe.

”Who, Clara?” they asked, spotting one of Luz’ classmates. She was easy to recognize, with her bright blonde hair with a streak of pink. ”Did you or Luz get into a fight with her?”

”Wha-no, not Clara, the other one,” Vee said and pointed at the only other person in the room.

”Maya?” Masha said, surprised.

”You know her?”

”Sorta,” Masha shrugged. ”Believe it or not, but I’m a frequent customer at The Magic Circle, that’s where I get all my books on the occult and paranormal. So we kinda know each other. What about you, why don’t you wanna see her?”

”Well, uh…” Vee mumbled. ”We actually went to The Magic Circle the other day while we’re trying to figure out what that old rebus was about, and, uh… we kinda… got kicked out…”

”Ah, I see,” Masha said, a small smile playing at the edge of their lips.

”Really, it was mostly Gus’ and Willow’s fault,” Vee said defensively.

”If you say so,” Masha snickered. ”Don’t worry, I’ll go in and face this challenge alone,” distorting their voice into a dramatic growl, making Vee giggle.

”Alright, I’lll be waiting somewhere around. I don’t wanna stay too close, lest she see me.”

Masha nodded and entered the cafe. Vee turned around and started walking away in a very natural and unsuspicious manner, not at all reminiscent of someone who had just spotted someone who they really did not want to spot them.

She rounded the corner of the block, and realized too late that she had found herself back at the scene of the crime. Literally; The Magic Circle was cordoned off with bright yellow police tape.

What in the…? When did this happen?

Vee approached slowly, watching out for shards of glass on the pavement. Most of them had been swept up and to the side, but there were a few missed glittering in the high sun. Someone had broken open the door, nearly ripping it off its hinges, sending glass flying everywhere in the process. Not only that, but the metal bars that were supposed to stop anyone that had forced open the door had been cut and bent out of shape. Someone really wanted to get into that store.

A fleeting scent reached Vee’s nose, and she instinctively took a deep breath. She dared a little bit closer, almost to the point where she touched the police tape. She could hear people talking and moving inside, likely investigators trying to figure out who was behind this crime. It was not the noise that brought Vee close though, but the scent.

There was a faint smell in the air, a smell Vee recognized. Not from the realm of humans, but one from the realm of demons. It wasn’t magic, but rather the memory of magic, the ”soot” and ”smoke” of a spell. It smelled like someone had performed magic here… but no one, not Amity, not Gus, nor Willow had cast any spells while they were here. And even if they had, that was two days ago. Surely the smell would would have faded away into nothing by now… surely…

xxXXxx

The familiar smell of ground coffee beans and freshly baked pastries greeted Masha as they entered Robin’s Roast, well before the employee behind the counter could. They threw a glance at the sign showing customers that had managed to get themselves permanently banned. A pale woman with grey hair and bright golden eyes and a wild smile; Marilyn. Except that was not her real name. She was Eda the Owl Lady, a powerful witch from another world. She had come here once, tired to pay with a raccoon, cursed the croissants, and then ran away. To be honest, from what Vee had told them, this Eda seemed like an icon of chaos and unadulterated confidence. In other words, very much the kind of person Masha aspired to be.

Masha nodded to Maya before going to place their order. Two chai lattes, and these ones were the best in town. Well, they were the only in town, but still. They were good, Vee was sure to love them. After a moment of consideration, Masha decided to grab two two cupcakes as well. They had a chocolate-and-coffee frosting and were decorated with white and black hearts.

Without thinking, Masha reached into the pocket where they kept the deck of cards. Their thumb brushed over the topmost card. The Red String.

”… on a date?”

”Hm?” Masha hummed and spun around to face the voice taking to them. It was Maya, sitting by her lonesome with a by now cold coffee.

”You on a date?” she repeated, causing Masha’s brain to malfunction.

”Wha-? N-no, it’s not a date! We’re just friends.” Incredibly enough, Masha managed to stutter forth the exact series of words that anyone who was on a date but didn’t want to admit it was a date would say. Amazing. They felt their cheeks begin to heat up.

Maya, as expected, looked unconvinced.

”Yeah sure. And your ’friend’ with the green hair is real subtle.”

”You… saw her?” Masha said, keeping their tone low. Even if Vee’s other friends hadn’t done a crime, it was probably for the better not to draw too much attention to the basilisk hiding amongst humans. They glanced at Clara, who looked absolutely miserable over in the corner of the cafe, sulking with a half empty coffee mug.

”Yeah…” Maya said slowly. ”Kind hard not to, with the green hair and bright orange sweater. She’s like a walking traffic cone.”

That image was enough to make Masha forget their nervousness and start chuckling. Maya didn’t joke often, but when she did, she did not miss.

”She thought you might be mad at her,” Masha explained, still keeping their tone low. ”She said that last time you two met didn’t end so well.”

”Water under the bridge,” Maya said. She stirred her coffee with a spoon, not that it did much good since it was already cold.

”…wasn’t it less than two days ago.”

”Lot of water passes under the bridge in two days,” Maya said with a shrug. She tapped a coin lying on the table. It looked like it could be gold, though it probably wasn’t, and it had a spiral symbol on it. ”But you can let her know that her friends aren’t gonna get in trouble if they come back. I literally could not be arsed to report that stolen costume. And, well… with what happened, another missing costume isn’t that big of a deal.”

”What, what happened?” Masha asked, slipping back to normal conversational tone. Something else had happened at The Magic Circle since then? This was news to Masha.

”You didn’t see it on the way here?” Maya raised her eyebrow. Masha had never claimed to be great at reading facial expressions, but they could somehow decode exactly what Maya meant, calling Masha out on being… distracted by their company.

”If it was something at The Magic Circle, then no, we came from another direction,” Masha said quickly, internally cursing their traitorous body for pumping excessive amounts of blood to their cheeks.

”Yeah, well, someone broke into the store,” Maya said. ”Completely trashed the front door. Hence why I’m here instead of at work.”

”Oh no, that’s terrible,” Masha said. Genuinely, that was their favorite store in town. It was a much-needed haven for a social outcast enby goth like them. ”That’s what, the fifth this month?” The last month or so had seen an unprecedented number of break-ins and thefts happening in the otherwise peaceful little town. The last place to be hit was a private workshop. The thief had made off with thousands of dollars worth in tools, car parts, and electronics. ”Was anything stolen?”

Maya nodded.

”Mhm. No cash though, which is weird, didn’t even touch the safe. No, they stole some costumes and a bunch of jewelry. And cassette tapes, which is even weirder to me. If they were originals, then maybe they’d be worth something, but the ones we have are cheap replicas for nostalgia’s sake.”

Out of the corner of their eye, Masha saw Clara suddenly get up from her chair and hurry out. In her haste, she bumped into Masha. She mumbled a quick sorry and was gone before Masha even had the time to tell her it was fine.

”Geez, what lit a fire under her ass?” Maya said dryly, watching through the window as Clara all but ran her way from Robin’s Roast.

”I dunno, maybe she realized she was late for her class on being a bitch,” Masha said. They almost regretted saying that immediately, because in the grand scheme of things, Clara was not that much of a bitch… though she was far from a saint. Still, it was a funny joke that almost made Maya laugh.

”Yeah, probably,” she said. Her eyes flickered to the floor. ”You dropped something.”

”Oh, thanks,” Masha said and bent down to pick up the Hexas Hold’em cards that had slipped out of their pocket when Clara collided with them.

There were three cards on the floor. Now, you’d think that since The Red String, The Two-Headed Snake, and The Light were the three topmost cards in the deck, those would have been the ones to fall out, but you’d be mistaken. With a slight frown, Masha gathered the cards and looked at them.

The Sword and Shield featured a winged sword and an ornate shield. The card invoked the imagery of a knight or soldier, brave and loyal. It’d be a pity to stain such beautiful things with the blood of war and conflict.

The Golem showed a large and brutish figure made from purple clay. It was probably supposed to be one of those abominations Vee had mentioned Luz’ girlfriend (Amity?) used. A figure crafted with magic, made to defend or attack, but with little will of its own.

The Whip was just that, a whip, though the tip of this one was replaced with a snake’s head. Whips were the weapon of oppressors and animal tamers, who ruled though fear of pain and punishment.

”Oh yeah, and the thief also stole all those cards too,” Maya said, snapping Masha out of their thoughts and back to reality. ”What were they called, Hex n’ Hold’em?”

”Hexas Hold’em,” Masha corrected, shoving the cards back in their pocket.

”Right, right… I think we got them from that creepy conspiracy nut.”

Masha nodded.

”Jacob Hopkins. I got my deck from him as well.”

”You know him?” Maya asked.

”Not really. He used to work at the Historical Society,” Masha explained, which was met by a sympathetic grimace from Maya. ”And yes, he really is as crazy as you think. Or worse even. Did you know he’s an actual flat-earther?”

”Noooooo…” Maya said slowly, in utter disbelief. ”That can’t be true! I though the whole flat earth thing was just a bad meme.”

”I wish I was kidding,” Masha said while shaking their head. ”Flat earth and witches from Mars, ancient aliens that gather in the ruins in the woods… you can see why he got kicked out of the GHS.”

”Good riddance, by the sounds of it,” Maya said.

At this point, the man behind the counter decided he was tired of listening to Maya and Masha’s banter, and so he cleared his throat to get Masha’s attention.

”R-right, sorry,” they mumbled. They quickly paid and with only some difficulty, managed to grab both cups and the paper bag with the cupcakes.

Maya was a gentlewoman and got up from her seat to hold the door open for them.

”Good luck on the date,” she said, which, despite the playfulness to her voice, still sounded genuine deep down.

”It’s not-” Masha’s words were cut off by the door closing.

Masha wasn’t privy to Maya sighing and sitting back again, reaching for the spoon to uselessly stir her coffee again… only to discover the spoon had, as if by an invisible hand, been bent out of shape.

As Masha exited back out onto the sidewalk, they scanned the street for Vee, finding that she was nowhere within sight. Following a hunch, they rounded the corner and indeed, there she was.

Vee was standing in front of The Magic Circle, dangerously close to the trashed door, almost touching the police tape. She was sniffing the air, her eyes closed in concentration.

”Good Goddess, what did you people do!?” Masha said loudly, startling Vee. She almost jumped out of her own skin as she spun around.

”Nothing, I was just curious!” she said quickly, before she even registered who it was talking to her. She relaxed when she saw who was talking to her. Masha noticed her hair move as her big adorable ear moved underneath. ”Oh. Funny. Real funny coming from you, considering you’re my alibi.”

”I dunno, they say criminals always return to the scene of the crime,” Masha said, trying to sound genuine. ”Are you sure it wasn’t you?”

”Positive,” Vee said dryly. ”No, I really was just curious. I thought I could smell something…” She threw a quick glance at the wrecked door and security bars with the hint of a frown. ”But it’s probably nothing.”

”How about we get going again then?” Masha said, holding up the goodies from Robin’s Roast. ”The tea’s getting cold, and i’ve still got many useless. I mean, ’ interesting’ historical facts to tell you. Oh, and I got us a little something extra,” they said and shook the little paper bag, though gently, as to not spill any of the still hot liquid.

Vee’s face lit up at the prospect of food and drink.

”Gladly,” she said excitedly and took the cup Masha was offering. As they started walking away from the depressing sight that was The Magic Circle, Vee smelled the tea carefully.

”You were right, this is amazing,” she said.

”Y-you do know you’re supposed to drink it, right?” Masha asked while taking a sip themselves.

”Oh, I know,” Vee said and took a careful sip. ”But there’s not much difference in smell and taste to me.”

”Really? Can’t you feel any taste?” Masha asked, intrigued. There was still so much about their friend they didn’t know. They recalled what Vee had talked about before, how she normally didn’t chew her food, so maybe it did make sense that she didn’t have much of a sense of taste.

”No, I have a sense of taste, but my sense of smell is a lot more refined,” Vee clarified. ”Didn’t you ever wonder how I became the best seeker in hide and seek back at camp?”

This took Masha a second to process. It was true that whenever the camp counselors made the kids do hide and seek among the barracks or in the nearby woods, ’Luz’ was always the best at finding people… she even earned a little gold star for it, one of many.

”You… you were tracking us… by scent?” they said slowly. Vee nodded with a big grin, revealing Masha probably had a very funny expression.

”Yeah,” Vee said, clearly holding back laughter. ”I remember the very first time we played hide and seek, and I was so confused that no one else was trying to mask their scent. That’s when I realized humans just don’t have that good a sense of smell. Uh, no offense, you humans have a lot of great qualities, especially yo-I mean-”

”That’s why you showed up covered in mud!” Masha exclaimed, suddenly remembering one of the weirder things ’Luz’ had done, and one of the few times she got in trouble at camp.

”That and camouflage,” Vee laughed, prompting Masha to start laughing as well.

Once the laughter died down, the two friends could continue with their walk through town. Masha offered Vee one of the cupcakes.

”Aw, these are so cute,” Vee said, taking a good look at the muffin, before it was to be devoured.

”A cute cupcake for a cute girl,” MAsha said before they could stop themselves. Being unable to see their own face, Masha wasn’t sure if that sentence made them blush harder than Vee, but they suspected that might be the case.

”G-gee, th-thanks,” Vee stammered. ”I-I think you’re cute too. B-but in a cool way! You’re like the coolest person I know! Wh-which I know doesn’t mean that much because I really don’t know that many people, at least when compared to the average human, which I’m not…” Her sentence trailed off at some point before it devolved into complete gibberish.

And so, in only a few seconds, the atmosphere between the two friends changed entirely. They spent a few minutes in awkward silence, wandering the streets of Gravesfield while eating their cupcakes and drinking their tea.

Masha decided to break the silence.

”So, uh… did you say you could smell magic as well?” the asked, recalling something Vee had mentioned offhandedly the night before.

Vee nodded.

”I can track magic by scent as well.” She suddenly smiled again. ”But I can do more than just track,” she said. ”I can tell all sorts of things by smell. Like, did you know Marco uses the same kind of dandruff shampoo as Camila?”

”I didn’t know Marco used shampoo,” Masha said. ”I’ve never been able to smell anything from hm other than that body spray he insists on using way too much off.”

”It really doesn’t smell that good” Vee agreed. ”Okay, but I can also tell that Samuel really need to do something about his foot fungus.”

”Eeeeew!” Masha exclaimed. ”Gross!”

”I know,” Vee said with a nod. ”It’s been pretty bad for a while now, but I noticed that it’s gotten even worse. I’m serious, it can’t be healthy.”

”Ew, ew, ew!” Masha repeated while holding their hands over their ears. ”Talk about something else.”

”O-okay, um… ”Vee thought for a moment. ”Oh, I know, something else I can do. I could tell instantly that your mom was pregnant, right when I first met her.”

…

”SHE’S WHAT!?”

xxXXxx

It took Masha a bit to calm down after that bombshell. The revelation that there were going to have a younger sibling within a couple of months was bad enough, but it was made even worse when they realized that… it must have happened while they were away at camp. Vee was profoundly apologetic about the whole thing, meagerly saying she thought they knew already, which only made things yet worse, because it was apparently an obvious thing too.

Eventually they calmed down, largely thanks to Vee distracting them by asking for more historical trivia.

Vee was a very attentive listener. As Masha had noticed before, they could notice her ears move and perk up when she heard something she thought was interesting. And those big bright eyes were so full of life and wonder at everything. Even when it came to those subjects most people who were not already interested in history found boring and irrelevant. Though Masha made sure to omit some of the more gruesome details, especially regarding the witch hunts.

The two of them spent about an hour walking around Gravesfield, enjoying their chai lattes, cupcakes, the pleasant weather and each others’ company.

As Masha set the course, they dragged Vee along in any random direction, based more so on vibes and any interesting facts they could think of. So it was quite unintentional on their part that they end up where they eventually did end up.

It was towards the south edge of town, where at one point, there had been a big push towards development. Land had been purchased and forest cut down to make way for new housing and businesses. Pretty much all of those grandiose and ambitious ideas had been abandoned for a variety of reasons… and one huge reason, the primary reason really, was what Vee and Masha found themselves looking at.

Masha came to a halt when they realized where they were, an abrupt halt that took Vee by surprise. She followed Masha’s gaze, beholding the modern ruins.

The entire area was cordoned off by a chainlink fence to keep modern urban explorers out… not that it had succeeded, as the gate had been forced open, and was only kept closed by a rock someone had placed in front of it.

Beyond the fence was a large field of asphalt, which had once had lines for parking spaces, though since long worn out. Cycles of heat, and rain, and cold without any upkeep had over the years made the asphalt start to crack. Life, ever persevering, had started to reclaim the area, with grass, weeds, and flowers growing from the cracks.

On the other end of the old parking lot stood the remains of a building. Crumbling slabs and blocks of concrete, with rusting metal beams and rebar sticking out of it like the bones of a rotting corpse. Almost every visible wall that was still standing was covered in graffiti, some so old that it had started to fade away.

Masha broke the silence.

”That… used to be a big department store,” they said slowly. ”Built in 1998, it would even remain standing for a decade. Shoddy workmanship, corrupt inspectors approving subpar construction, and the ever-present desire of those who already have more than they need to earn even more, to increase the profit margin by even just a fraction of a percent…” They stopped before they got too carried away. They had spent a lot of time looking into this case, and everything they had learned had made them more angry. They took a deep breath to calm themselves down. At their side, Vee had a mixed look of confusion and worry.

”Are… you okay?” she asked quietly. She started to reach out, but stopped halfway.

”Yeah, I’m fine, it’s just… it makes me mad,” Masha said, though Vee didn’t look very reassured. ”It was during a summer of heavy rainfall that part of the roof collapsed,” Masha continued, doing their best to slip back into history teacher mode. ”Two people received minor injuries, one employee and one customer. Examination of the wreckage as well as the original blueprints lead to the entire building being condemned and left here. The parent company promised to clean it up, but of course, nothing has happened yet. It’s only been fifteen years after all, give it some time.” Again, Masha couldn’t help but let the disgust seep through their words.

”It was the opinion of several independent experts that a leak on the roof, a problem which was known about by the staff, lead to supporting beams beginning to rust and for the roof to weaken,” Masha continued. ”Furthermore, partway through the construction, there was a change of plans and part of the air conditioning system was moved, putting additional weight on a part of the roof that was not designed to bear it. One investigator went as far as to claim that the construction company had knowingly used substandard materials in order to cut down costs. Of course, they were never taken to court for this.”

Masha stepped on a small pebble on the ground, rolling it under their shoe and fiddling with it. Vee stood by, silently waiting for the next part of the story.

”I was here on that day,” Masha said finally. ”I wasn’t old enough to remember, I was only a little over a year old when it happened, but my dad has told me the story. It was in the afternoon on the seventh of June, 2007. My parents had been visiting my mom’s family living in the next town over. On the way back home, they stopped by here to get something for dinner.”

Masha stopped and pointed at a spot close to the ruins.

”I don’t know if you can see it, but there’s some flowers growing in some of the bigger cracks over there. Mom and I planted them there on dad’s birthday last year. I don’t remember what the flowers are called, but they’re supposed to represent life.”

They cleared their throat.

”Anyway… it had been raining cats and dogs all day, so dad was supposed to head in alone while mom waited in the car with me. But just as dad was about to leave… I started crying. He said that I was sleeping before, but the suddenly… I sat up and started crying. But not just crying… he said… he told me that I was screaming. And that he had never heard me scream like that, not before, not since, not even when I broke my arm in second grade.”

Even the brief mention of that painful memory made Masha rub their arm, even though it was completely healed.

”So… dad stayed, you know, to try and figure out why I was screaming bloody murder. And… that’s when they heard a a loud rumbling and a terrible crash. Mom said that at first she thought it was thunder, and that maybe it was a lightning bolt that frightened me. But no, the sound was not thunder, it was the roof collapsing… right above the entrance. If my dad had left when he was supposed to, if I hadnät started crying…”

”Then he would’ve been caught in the collapse,” Vee finished the sentence, met by a nod from Masha.

”Mhm.”

”You saved his life then,” Vee said tentatively, still not sure why Masha was telling her this.

”In a sense,” Masha mumbled, their hand in their pocket, fidgeting with the Hexas Hold’em cards. They pulled out the deck and held them up for Vee. They spoke slowly, hesitating. ”Are… you sure there’s no magic left in these?”

Vee frowned and took the cards. She smelled them carefully, flipping through the deck. It honestly looked kinda funny.

”No,” she said after a little while. ”Not even a little spark. Even the memory of magic is gone. All I can smell on them is you.” She handed the cards back and made an attempt at a smile. ”There’s literally not enough magic in them to do a card trick.”

Masha couldn’t help but smile at the joke, and they couldn’t help but giggle at how adorably proud Vee looked over herself for that pun.

”I really did think there might still be some magic left in them,” Masha said, shuffling the deck.

”Why?” Vee asked.

”Because…” Masha took a deep breath. Why was this so difficult to talk about? It really shouldn’t be. ”Last night, at the Haunted Hayride, just before we ran into you and Jacob… I drew some cards…”

One more deep breath. Inhale, exhale. This was the moment. Time to see if they really were crazy.

They drew the first card in the deck.

”The Two-Headed Snake. A being that is dual in nature, something that is not what it appears to be at first,” Masha said. They handed the card to Vee, who was looking… how would you describe the look? Eyes wide, mouth open and jaw slack. Flabbergasted, perhaps? One might even go as far as to say she looked gobsmacked.

They drew the second card in the deck.

”The Light illuminates and reveals things in the dark.” They handed that card to Vee.

They drew the third card in the deck.

”The Red String. A deep connection.” Masha swallowed. ”Like friends, or people who are destined to meet.” They handed that card over to Vee as well. ”I didn’t know it at the time, but in hindsight… it’s an odd coincidence, right? The Two-Headed snake is obviously you, a snake with multiple faces. Then we have the light which reveals things, just like how you revealed the truth to us, shed light on the situation so to say. And The Red String, well… we were obviously connected, since we became friends at camp and then ran into each other again, even after you became someone else.”

”That… does… make sense… kinda,” Vee said, talking slowly as she tried to process what was going on.

”And it’s not only that, but this night, I shuffled the deck again and I drew those exact same three cards,” Masha said, their voice ramping up as they got more worked up. ”And now I pulled the same three cards again! That can’t be random chance, it just can’t! I thought there might be some magic left in the cards, but if there isn’t…” The sentence trailed off.

Of course they had thought about it many times before, of course, what kid hadn’t? That dream every misunderstood kid has, the dream of being special. Masha had poured over books, badly produced documentaries, and no end of shady internet forums talking about psychic powers and the like. People whi claimed they could see ghosts, or bend spoons, or see the future. susually, these people wanted you money, but every so often there appeared to be someone genuine. And even more rarely, there appeared to be someone who really could do the magical things they claimed.

”Actually…” Vee said slowly, scratching the back of her head. She gave the three cards back to Masha, who shuffled them back into the deck. ”There’s no magic in the cards, and they weren’t enchanted with oracle magic, so they couldn’t tell the future anyway… but maybe there’s something… special about you. Because, um…” Her gaze fell to the ground, like she was avoiding eye contact. ”You do… smell kinda weird.”

”Weird in what way?” Masha said a little too quickly, for the moment forgetting what they were talking about and everything Vee had said before that.

”I-it’s not b-bad or anything, just… strange,” Vee assured them, still not meeting their eyes.”You smell of… metal.”

”…metal?” Masha said, confused. ”What kind of metal?”

”It’s not really like any metal I know,” Vee clarified. ”It’s more like a metallic smell.”

”And that’s weird?” Masha asked, trying to get Vee to explain just what she was talking about.

”Yeah…” Vee finally looked up again, meeting Masha’s eyes with hers. ”I was super confused when we first met, because no other human smelled like you. They all smelled like soap, and hormones, and regular stuff. And you did too, but you also had that other smell. But… you remember Dr. Jante?”

Masha nodded. Of course they remembered the head honcho at camp. It was undeniably ironic that Reality Check Camp, which aimed to make weird kids ”normal” was created and lead by Dr. Jante, a man who was inarguably a massive weirdo himself.

”He smelled like that too,” Vee said. ”So I just kinda figured some humans smelled like that. But if what you’re saying is true, then maybe there is something more to it. Maybe… maybe humans can do magic too! My kind evolved to track witch magic, not human magic, so maybe that’s why I wouldn’t recognize it!”

”D-do… do you really think so?” Masha said. It actually took them some effort to hold back a tear. Vee, someone so incredibly special, a real demon from a world of magic and miracles thought they might be magical too. It was everything they could've ever dreamed of.

”I mean, what else could it be?” Vee said enthusiastically. "You said it yourself, the chances of getting those same three cards three times in a row are astronomical. So if a funny coincidence is off the table, then what’s left?”

”Could I really be magic? For real?” Masha asked, their voice shaking, not out of stress, or anger, or sadness, no. Out of joy; they had a big dumb smile on their face. They looked down at their hands, halfway expecting sparks to fly from their fingertips. ”Can that really be true?”

”i don’t know that it couldn’t be true,” Vee said with a shrug and a big smile of her own. ”Why don’t we ask the cards?”

”Oh… yeah!” Masha said, excited. Of course, what kind of fortune teller were they, standing here asking questions, when they should be consulting the cards. They shuffled the cards again while Vee shuffled next to them to get a good look.

The first card had an image of a black bird.

”The Raven,” Masha said, saying the first thing that came to their mind. ”An oft maligned bird, it’s nonetheless intelligent and beautiful in its own way.”

The next card showed a single arrow with an ornate metal arrowhead.

”The Arrow. A… weapon of war, or…” Masha bit their lip, trying to figure out what the card was trying to tell them. ”Direction? Showing the the way or going somewhere.”

The third cad had a crystal ball from which a ghostly figure was emerging.

”The Spirit. A teller of the future summoned to give wisdom or aid to the living.”

”Seems clear as day to me,” Vee said. She pointed at the first card. ”The bird is obviously you, ’oft maligned, but intelligent and beautiful.’ And this arrow…” Vee moved her finger from The Raven, in the direction of The Arrow, which was pointing at… ”The Spirit. That’s the symbol of the Oracle Coven, and they can see the future.” She beamed at Masha.

”I…I.” Masha didn’t know what to say. They finally lost the battle against the tears, as small droplets of joy started rolling down their cheeks. ”Thank you,” they whispered, leaning in even closer to Vee. ”You have no idea how much this means to me.”

”O-oh, it’s really no big deal,” Vee laughed awkwardly, her face becoming a deep red color. ”I jus-”

Masha interrupted her by pulling her into a deep hug. Vee made an ”Eep!” sound and stood frozen for a second before she returned the embrace, holding on to Masha hard.

She held on very hard.

Almost a little too hard.

”V-vee,” Masha said after about a minute. ”It’s.. getting hard to breathe.

”Ohmygosh, so sorry!” Vee yelled and let Masha go, nearly pushing them over in the process. ”I’m so sorry!” she said again, hr face red as a beet. ”I, uh… constrictor instinct?”

Despite being short of breath, Masha couldn’t help but laugh at that, which in turn made Vee giggle awkwardly.

”You know,” Masha said as they dried their tears. ”When we first started on this walk, I didn’t expect to learn this much about myself. Mostly I expected to teach you boring history facts and maybe to learn a bit more about you, and…” They stopped at a realization. Something they, both of them, had forgotten. Something kinda important.

”What is it?” Vee asked, noticing the change in Masha’s expression.

”…we forgot the car, didn’t we?”

”…we did.” Vee sighed. ”Aw, shoot.” The walk back would be almost an hour.

xxXXxx

Going back in time a bit, to when Clara left the cafe in such a hurry. She had gone to the right, the opposite direction of The Magic Circle. She did not want to see the scene of the crime, she was desperate to avoid it. Coming to Robin’s Roast, so close, had been a mistake.

What no one knew at this point in time was that if Clara had walked past The Magic Circle at that moment, past Vee, the basilisk in hiding… then this story would have had a very different ending. Sadly, that was not to be. Fate, it would seem, has a sense of humor.

To Be Continued…

[electrozeistyking]

I am so incredibly curious about N and Uzi before…. N had to kill her…

What was life like as a married drone couple? How did they do their wedding? How awkward was the conversation about having a kid?

I’m also curious about V in this AU, what are her thoughts on all that’s going on… N killing Uzi, N having a kid, N being fricken’ depressed… She was a broken individual in the canon, is she still just as broken here? Has she healed from all that the solver’s but her through?

sorry for the many questions, but as an obsessive individual you have crafted the perfect thing for me to obsess over and i am dying for more content lol.

p.s. are there more fics to come? Ik ya only have the one prologue rn, are more chapters on their way?

Hey, no need to apologize for being curious! I quite like the amount of questions! Tells me you're interested in the AU, y'know? Anyway, let me dig up some old notes!

These aren't the full notes, though. A lot was cut, especially if they involved spoilers and/or if they made this go on for too long.

Everything was as fine as it could possibly be on this frozen, toxic exoplanet. Hell, this stretch of fine-ness went on long enough that one of them decided to propose to the other.

And by one of them, I mean Uzi. 

This is based on some observations (aka the hand holding thing in Episode 6), but N was a major fucking dork when V asked him if he was thinking about proposing to Uzi — y’know, saying things like “I don’t know if I should” and “maybe she doesn’t want to go that far” and “maybe we’re fine as is?”

Then meanwhile Uzi’s been drawing up plans on how the hell she’s going to propose to this tall ass robot.

In the end, she kinda threw it all to the wind and decided to do so with no big events or plans or anything. She kinda panicked, though, so she said “Do you wanna marry me?” instead of “Will you marry me?”

N nearly short-circuited trying to say yes. He was kind of having a “Oh my goodness, this is happening????” moment and a “OH SHE DOES WANT TO GO THAT FAR” moment at the exact same time, so something may have literally sparked.

[...] there was a funny period of time where the duo kept very suddenly realizing they’re married, like it didn’t actually sink in until that moment. 

In fact, N exclaimed “oh my goodness” and leaned against something every time it occurred to him.

Unfortunately, the good fluffy times couldn’t last forever. 

You see, one way or another, our beloved robotic dorks somehow found themselves on the topic of having a kid. The conversation itself was fine, if slightly awkward at first (what with N being unsure he’d be good at parenting, anyway). However, just as they reached the peak of “hey, would they be more disassembler or more worker” jokes, Uzi started coughing. 

Which is not normal for any kind of drone. Unless they accidentally swallow something wrong, or if the air’s a bit too thick for whatever reason, drones don’t cough for seemingly no reason. And yet, despite how odd it was, both of them tried to brush it off.

In a brilliant moment of jumping to conclusions (even if they’re the right ones), Uzi realized that The Solver was trying to take over her body.

In a panic, N tried to help any way he could, but felt like he was doing nothing in the process. Uzi just kept getting worse, and every time they landed up empty-handed, the thought he was failing her stung even more. 

V tried to help as well, out of fear over what that thing would do if It took over (and because she did think of Uzi as a friend, even if she’d never admit it to her face).

When The Solver started hijacking her body during one such search to find a way to stop It, Uzi realized it was all over for her. 

Whatever this thing was — whatever It wanted — wasn’t good. And so, in a moment of desperation and panic, she came up with a plan to destroy It. Hopefully, if everything worked in their favour, It’d be gone once and for all.

Of course, its success banked on N’s cooperation. Since V split off from the duo this time, he was the only disassembly drone who could possibly carry it out. Predictably, he tried to decline at first, seeing as the plan was to kill Uzi and destroy her core.

However, when Uzi explained that this was the only way to get rid of this fucking thing, N reluctantly agreed. Despite being incredibly painful, he brought out his laser gun (which is what I think it is, shut up) and the couple had one last heartfelt goodbye.

But then, just as N went to shoot her, the laser turned an awful shade red he’s never seen before and started malfunctioning — something that’s supposed to rarely ever happen. N panicked, calling out Uzi’s name... right before the weapon exploded.

V felt the vibrations of the explosion from where she stood and immediately rushed to N and Uzi’s location. She assumed that something went wrong, but what she saw was not what she expected.

Uzi was dead. 

There was a Fatal Error message on her visor, as clear as day. She was in multiple pieces, with a hole in her chest right where her core was supposed to be — having most likely imploded, thanks in part to The AbsoluteSolver’s weirdness.

While N was alive, his body was in rough shape. He’d been split in two due to the blast, and his chest had been cracked wide open. Judging from how dark smoke billowed from where one of his hands should’ve been, something had gone completely wrong. 

But how? There was a very small chance their weapons could malfunction, and yet... what the fuck happened?

V chose not to dwell on it too long. N’s body wasn’t regenerating on its own fast enough for some reason, and he was losing a shit ton of oil at an alarming rate. 

Fuelled by pure adrenaline, V somehow managed to carry both of N’s halves and all of Uzi’s pieces back to the Outpost.

[neutron-stars-collision]

Deadlines & Commitments

Neil x F!Reader

Chapter 8 - London Bridge Underground Station

Masterlist; Chapter 7 Summary: With preparations for the next ballet of the season at all time high, it seems like only Neil is capable of calming you down. With whatever means necessary. After all, that's what friends are for. Warnings: Swearing, explicit language, implied sexual content. Author's Notes: Well, hello. As you might've seen from my posts, this one is early and only 3/4 of what I have outlined but seeing as it already took near two months, I figured I might as well split this here. It's 10k so not bad either ✨ This way I'll be stressing less about how long it's taking me to write this. This is the first chapter of the so-called Nutcracker season, so I thought I might drop some reference videos again in case y'all wanted to see what the sequences I refer to look like. And so that the two hours of research aren't entirely wasted lol Anyways, here's Waltz of the Snowflakes and Waltz of the Flowers. Enjoy the extra education 💕 Thank you for reading and being patient as I try to wrestle my brain into obedience 💖 Let me know what you think? Taglist: @hollandorks, @kristevstewart, @stargirl25 (let me know if you want to be added).

For someone who usually hated the mere mention of the word routine and all that it entailed, you took a worrying amount of joy in having it established on Wednesdays. There was something to be cherished in the cold autumn breeze as you hurried down the streets, knowing that soon you could talk to him like you had been itching to since you had parted. The countless texts and occasional phone calls in between hardly mattered in that case. Not because they were not good enough at sustaining the connection, but rather because while they kept you sane, they could never replace the real thing.

The exact way Neil’s eyes shone in the sharp light of the fluorescents whenever you said something funny or scandalous. Or the curve of his smile, breaching that thin line between mere joy and smugness at being the sole object of your attention and desire. Or perhaps the different topics you cycled through within the twenty-minute-long window the shared commute allowed you. There was hardly reason nor logic to them, but every Wednesday morning, as you approached the St. John’s Wood station, you would find yourself increasingly curious about what this day would entail. What you would talk about. What you would be able to learn about him.

No matter the minutes spent wondering and debating, you could never anticipate the conversation in its entirety.

By now, you were a pro at finding Neil the moment you stepped aboard the train. Most times you would spot him before he knew the train had stopped at your station. He would raise his pretty blond head and meet your gaze, lighting up instantly and getting rid of any apprehension you could still hold over being so openly into him.

Today was not any different in that regard. Once you had successfully located him (head bowed over a book in his lap, the blonde hair tousled by the wind raging outside), you crossed the space despite the sudden movement of the carriage and unceremoniously dropped to the seat next to him with a greeting ready on your tongue:

“Hey, you” your grin widened as Neil’s head swivelled in your direction with worrying speed.

You stared as he closed the book without bothering to mark the page, letting his gaze trace its customary path over your face and body. It was always like this. His eyes would wander over your features with detailed focus, almost as if expecting something to have changed. The moment made you pause, instantly concerned whether there could be something amiss, but the uncertainty vanished the second Neil’s lips widened into a bright grin. The courage to ask what it all meant was nowhere to be found yet. If ever.

“Morning, sunshine” offering you an overeager wink, he dropped the forgotten book in the bag and focused on you.

That sort of unspoken declaration still stroked your ego like nothing else. And you were unwilling to understand why that could be.

“If there’s anyone worthy of the ‘sunshine’ title, it’s you, my dear” stifling a yawn, you reached out to further ruffle his hair, enjoying the feel of his soft locks between your fingers. If the move had an ulterior motive (it did), you did not let it show and instead chose to relish in the myriads of feelings passing through Neil’s face. Namely affection, arousal and hunger, “What with all that hair and a dazzling smile,” before you could lose the feeble illusion of control, you dropped your hand back on your lap and met his questioning look with a blank smile.

Moments like this were best not discussed. And least of all on public transport. Despite it being over a week since your late Friday night commute and the decisions it had solidified, you were yet to make any substantial changes to your relationship. You were yet to ask him for another memorable night or a fleeting moment in a private place. For now, endless flirting, occasional sexting and increasingly courageous touches had to do. But, as always, they were not discussed. They simply happened. By an accident, of course.

“The hair is dyed” arching his eyebrow at your blatant misbehaviour, Neil offered the comment flatly.

Well, duh.

“Yeah, I know. You need to give me your hairdresser’s details because they’re doing a splendid job” barely resisting the urge to bury your fingers in his hair again, you clasped your hands together and chose to stare down the impertinent woman, shooting you both dirty looks across the carriage.

Only once she looked away, visibly flustered, you could glance at Neil again. As always, you found his gaze firmly trained on you. As if looking away was not an option.

“I’ll pass on the praise” shrugging, Neil allowed his eyes to wander, tracing invisible paths down the curve of your neck and further down, forcing your blush out of hiding whether you wanted or not.

Swallowing past the heat rising in your face, you uncrossed your legs and forced your brain to behave. That would not do. Being eternally flustered was not a state you were used to or even wanted to be. But increasingly, it was a state you were finding yourself in almost daily. Something had to be done about it. And fast.

Chancing a cheeky look at Neil, you allowed your mouth to run along and do its own thing. That always worked.

“You should. Who knows, maybe they, too, have a praise kink” as soon as the words were out, you knew it was the right call.

The leverage to give you the upper hand and render Neil speechless. Even more so that he was well aware you were right. The realization was written plain on his face, in the slack jaw and wide eyes, struck dumb by your boldness. Checkmate.

“Too? Are you insinuating something?” leaning forward and into your personal space, Neil’s voice dropped a notch.

The hastily put-up mask of indifference did nothing to deter you. You knew you were right. His reaction to the things you said that Friday night was something you thought of every day. Particularly the undoubted effects your bold use of ‘good boy’ had on Neil. His gasps, the groans of pleasure, and then-

“Wouldn’t dare to” mirroring his position, you leaned further into his space until all that was left was a few mere centimetres between you, easy to breach should you want to, “Except that we both know it’s true,” you met his gaze with an unyielding smile of your own, beckoning Neil to argue.

You could see the defiance in his blue eyes, the desire to throw you off the haunch by all means necessary. But you could also find defeat there, the embarrassment stemming from the simple fact that Neil knew he had already lost. You were right. As always.

Feeling the pride of victory surge through your veins, you opened your mouth to deliver the final strike before Neil closed it with a finger against your lips. The sudden touch burned like a hot poker, inciting thousands of thoughts you would rather not entertain. Not now, at least.

“Don’t” from the command in his voice, you could ascertain that Neil knew where it was all heading. He could tell that the words on your tongue were those two that had proved his weakness before, “Not here,” the unspoken plea finishing the speech did not go unnoticed.

It was strengthened by the silent resolution in his eyes as Neil lifted his finger from your mouth and let his fingers carefully caress your chin, angling your face for a kiss that would not come. Not here, as he said. Not yet.

“Very well. Next time,” as soon as the reply fell in the space between you, Neil nodded, solidifying a promise that had not quite been voiced but was understood by the both of you, “Soon, I think,” the addition was only a formality.

You both knew it would have to be soon. As if reminded of your surroundings, Neil dropped his hand from your face and shot you a smirk. Soon, indeed. Before your brain could run away with thousands of scenarios concerning that second rendezvous and all that you wanted to do to Neil when given the chance, he spoke again, swiftly changing the subject:

“What’s your stress level, Cupid?” it was easy to discern that it was a tactical move on his side, an easy way to move the conversation to a safer zone that would not make either or both of you misbehave in public.

But still, the question made the wave of affection spread over your chest, mostly because he cared enough to ask and wanted to hear the answer. And you really wanted to talk to someone about the sleepless nights and heart palpitations growing in frequency the closer it got to the audition day.

“Through the fucking roof,” sighing against the anxiety levels steadily building up in your system, you levelled Neil with a tired look, “I’ve less than a week left” by now, the countdown felt almost like minutes left till your scheduled audience on the death row.

Or something equally dramatic. From the seriousness reflected at you in Neil’s eyes, you knew he was all too aware of it.

“I know” he reached out to squeeze your arm comfortingly and asked, “Do you have the choreography all figured out?”

The question only increased the affection you could barely contain. Ignoring the sudden desire to snuggle up to Neil like a cat to attempt to show even an ounce of your current feelings, you chose to focus on the more pressing issues. Namely, the fear coursing through your veins and talking to the only person who seemed to understand it all.

“I think?” stifling another heavy sigh, you leaned back in the chair to stare at the Jubilee line map above the window opposite “I mean that’s basically the plan today. I’m going to the studio to practice every single variation till I can’t tell my Clara from the Snow Queen” this time a pained groan was unavoidable.

As much as you were looking forward to losing yourself in dancing for the whole day, all that followed was too terrifying to name. Yet, with every word spoken on the topic, you could hardly keep the fears at bay. They multiplied and strengthened till you could feel your heart rate rise, the pulse thundering in your ears. There was so much to dread, so many unknowns. So much that you could not foresee and so much that could go wrong. Too much.

“I’m not sure I know what that means, but I know that you’ve got this” through the rising panic, you registered Neil’s reassurance but could barely process it.

The spiral must have shown on your face because the next thing you felt was his careful touch, gentle fingers running over your forearm to take your hand in his and squeeze it. Without thinking, you let Neil entangle your fingers loosely and glanced at him, judging his mood. Finding nothing but concern and steadfast belief in your abilities, you turned away again, focusing on voicing what had to be said. Who knew when would be the next time you would have a willing listener available?

“Yeah, well, I’m not convinced,” swallowing hard past the doubt and worries that Neil did not want to hear any of your bullshit, you focused on the steady caress of his thumb running over your knuckles, soothing the nerves and reminding you of his presence. It had to be enough, “Sometimes I just… Do you know that feeling when you want something very badly, but you’re also almost certain that if you do get it, then it will be taken from you?” the question came out in a rush, words melting together into one anxious mess but the understanding in Neil’s gaze kept you going “I want to do well, but I’m also terrified of what might happen if I do succeed” getting the words out after days of rotating them in your head felt almost like a relief, offering you a chance to take a deeper breath. Even if they still seemed true, accurate, “So much so that sometimes I wonder whether I should just give up. Stop trying” finishing the tirade with an exhausted sigh seemed like an apt conclusion as you turned your head back to Neil, both dreading and needing to see his reaction.

Those were some of the things you had never told anyone else. The thoughts that kept you awake during many lonely nights and those that pushed you to the limits of what was supposed to be bearable. The drive behind every anxious thought and inexplicable fear. That which none of your friends needed or wanted to hear.

No one except for Neil, that is.

If the understanding on his face was anything to go by, he wanted to listen. His hand kept the reassuring hold over yours, thumb tracing circles over your knuckles. This one time, being seen did not hurt quite so much. Maybe if Neil could peer inside your heart and soul, he would be able to make sense of it all when you could not.

“But isn’t the fear of fucking up stronger than that of having succeeded?” after a beat, Neil’s question fell with a heightened impact upon the noise from the departed station fading into the background.

Wasn’t that the clue of it all?

“I don’t know” with no answer but another pained sigh, you allowed your head to rest against Neil’s shoulder. Only then, with the pleasant warmth of his shoulder beneath your cheek and the faint certainty that you could feel him nuzzle your temple, could you speak words into existence with only Neil as your witness, “I wish I had a way of knowing what’s destined for me” once you started talking, it was difficult to stop, unburdening your heart word after word, with no fear of judgement to be found “Like a horoscope but one that truly works” feeling the itch of frustration beneath your skin, you closed your eyes to attempt anchoring in the moment.

Even if only for a second. A second spent soaking up Neil’s warmth and his solid presence. A second spent not losing your mind. For a change.

“I’m pretty sure you’d go mad if you knew what fate has in store for you” feeling Neil’s steady gaze fixed on your face, you looked up in time to see the intent behind his words there. A subtle confirmation of the fact that he knew what he was saying was true and that you knew it, too. Even if you would never admit as much, “I know I would,” shrugging lightly not to disturb you from where you still had your chin propped on his shoulder, Neil cracked a small smile.

As if willing you to see where he was going with this. And you did know. It was only that sometimes (or rather most of the time) logic was difficult to come by. In those moments, ruled by fear and worry, all you craved was certainty. A knowledge of what the future held and what steps you needed to take to abstain from fucking it all up. But that was not something you could have. And that, in turn, was fucking you up. It was embarrassing and relieving to know that Neil understood without you having the words to express it all.

That he just knew. Like he knew everything, it seemed.

“I would too, but maybe insanity is better than whatever this is” ignoring the strange thoughts, which could lead you into the temptation, you raised your head from his shoulder and offered a tired shrug.

It was better that way. Safer.

“The tragedy known as everyday life?” his mouth quirked into a familiar grin, its traces already warming up your body and soul.

It was increasingly harder to look away from him in those moments. In those pauses between words, when his gaze was all you could focus on. When his blue eyes offered solace from fears. When it seemed like Neil did not mind being your anchor, the one thing keeping you on the verge of sanity.

When all you truly wanted to do was to press your lips to his and keep kissing him until everything else faded. Until there was nothing that could scare you.

Well, maybe, except for-

“Quite” you shook your head lightly, praying to all deities the ridiculous thoughts would disperse. Stuck in a daze, you looked outside as the PA crackled to life, announcing Southwark as the next station. Without a reason you could name, your heart missed a beat. It was time to go, “Fuck, I should get up. I don’t want to leave you” the honesty was easy to voice once you were arrested by his blue gaze, having made the mistake of glancing back at Neil.

You could tell he would need no convincing about the truthfulness of your admission. Neil’s soft smile, undoubtedly influenced by what must have been a particularly pathetic look on your face, only strengthened the conviction. He squeezed your hand, remaining securely clasped in his, and nudged your shoulder with his:

“Nutcrackers await you, Cupid” the simplicity of that reassurance was enough to make you grin, especially since you could tell Neil had not yet done his reading on the ballet.

With a remorseful sigh, you rose from the seat, letting go of his hand. Your eyes did not yet get the memo, as they stayed glued to his face, roaming over the features you now knew almost as well as your own. Within his gaze, you found the missing inspiration and the courage to ask what you wanted.

“Actually… Would you want to come up to the studio tomorrow evening? To provide feedback and butter me up?” you bated your eyelashes to complete the look, fully aware it was unnecessary.

Neil never needed the vapid flirting. He only seemed to need to know you meant what you said. And this time, there was no space for doubt.

“I’d love to” mirroring your manic grin, Neil captured your hand between his palms and brushed his fingers over your knuckles in a move that was almost reverent.

It was dangerous, too. You blinked against the haze in your eyes and tugged your hand free from the loose grasp. With the lights of Southwark creeping into the carriage, you knew it was time to go. Lest stupidity persisted.

***

Inviting Neil to the studio to watch your final touches to the choreography before the Friday audition seemed like a good idea when you said it. But over 24 hours later, waiting for the man himself to arrive and pacing up and down Hatfields with increasingly torrential thoughts, you began to wonder whether it was all a mistake. An overindulgence. Because what if Neil saw what you had prepared and thought it just as lacklustre as you worried it was?

For whatever reason, sharing this crucial part of your life with him was hard. It was a daily uphill battle, torn between the innate desire to show off the only thing you were remotely sure you were good at and the fear of falling short. Almost every time, you could only reach an impasse without a resolution on the horizon.

The spiral was cut short with a gentle touch on your shoulder, stopping your pacing before you could collide with a man-sized wall. Startled, you looked straight into the familiar blue eyes, now tinted with happiness and a dose of worry. Almost as if Neil could see the depths of unease in your soul. Before he could see too much, you schooled your features into a grin and pulled him in for a hug. At least those offered the comfort of hiding your face.

For a beat. Just enough time to get over whatever this was.

“Hi” pulling back with a satisfied sigh, you met Neil’s gaze with a renewed sense of control.

For a second, you did not feel quite so close to losing your mind. Small victories.

“Hello. Shall we?” Neil took that decisive step from your hug only to take your hand in his and tilt his head towards the entrance to the ballet studio.

For a split second, that ghost of panic was back, its cold fingers digging into the fabric of your soul and making you consider bolting, leaving, using a weak excuse and calling it all off. But then Neil smiled, a reassuring, steady grin that felt like a ray of sunlight melting the ice. You could take a deeper breath and nod. It was alright.

As if in a daze, you led him through the studio. By late afternoon, the space was almost deserted, with only a handful of staff and dancers milling about in the different parts of the building. The emptiness of the space offered the comfort and privacy you were seeking. Uninterrupted, you led Neil to the room you had occupied just before leaving to greet him and set your bag back on the designated chair before retrieving your phone and connecting it to the Bluetooth speaker. You could hear Neil move in the background, undoubtedly settling on the floor like the last time. Before you could turn to confirm the assumption, he broke the silence:

“So, what have you got for me, Cupid?” the playful notes in his voice made you turn, taking note of the grin on his face as Neil sat down with his back against the mirrored wall, legs outstretched, “Mind you, I’ve done my research” shooting you a wink, he made the show of taking out a leatherbound notebook from his bag and flipping it open, seemingly at random.

You had a feeling that the pages were not empty. And that they were indeed filled with research. You could feel a grin blooming on your face as you arched an eyebrow and asked:

“YouTube videos?” twisting your mouth into a smirk, you queued up the correct Tchaikovsky tracks and took off the jumper you had thrown on before going outside.

Neil’s gaze slid over your body, lingering on the skin you had just revealed. Your smirk sharpened upon the notice with the confidence drowning out the anxieties.

“Precisely,” Neil nodded, prideful and smug, “And Wikipedia,” grinning, he glanced at the notebooks and skimmed over whatever was written inside.

You resisted the urge to join him on the floor and tug the journal from his hold to look. Instead, you chose the verbal way of getting something out of this conversation. An upper hand of sorts.

“Good boy” you waited until Neil met your calm gaze with widened eyes and broke into a satisfied grin. It still worked. As much was clear from the way his breath picked up, the fingers of his hand shaking as he tightened the grip over the notebook. It was only once that startled look turned into a glare that you chose to offer contrition, “Sorry, I had to,” you could tell there was no grudge to be held there, so you shrugged and answered the question he had asked before, “I’ve prepared Waltz of the Snowflakes and Waltz of the Flowers. I could maybe, perhaps get lead for both” even speaking the hopes into existence seemed like asking for too much.

But there was no other way. You had to try because, by now, you knew giving up was not an option. It would not work.

The nervous energy coursed in your veins as you forced your body to move, stretching lightly to prepare for the demonstration you had brought down on yourself.

“You could. There’s no ‘perhaps’ about it. Come on, show me what you got” Neil’s words acted like the necessary checkpoint, keeping you from straying too far into the land of insanity.

That, and the belief in his eyes, as if he was confident what he was saying was true. As if he needed no convincing to know you were good enough for what you set out to achieve.

It was almost too much.

“Have I mentioned that you’re bad for my ego?” straightening up after the usual stretches, you met Neil’s gaze with a fond look.

There was no point in hiding it by now. Neil knew he was important to you. He knew that you cared. You had already lost that battle where it counted.

“I’m not saying anything you don’t deserve, babe,” Neil needed no time to think about his response; its placement timed perfectly with a wink at the end.

Still, the affection spread over your skin like a disease, making it impossible to attempt scouring for a witty response. All that was left was sincerity.

“Thank you, Neil. I can’t remember anyone being this nice to me since… forever, probably” getting it out was the easiest part, immediately followed by the trickier bit, which necessitated you not to crumble in the light of compassion in his gaze.

It was a task you almost failed at. All because it hurt to be looked at like a pitiful object, but without the shame that usually came with it. No, Neil looked at you like he could not comprehend the lack of care you were handled with during your life. He saw nothing wrong with you but instead blamed everyone else for what happened. For the things he did not even know. You quivered under the warmth in his eyes and broke the eye contact, gaze darting to locate the pointe shoes. Once you spotted them, you quickly crossed the space and sat by the pair to put them on.

It always did the trick of calming you down.

All the while, you could feel Neil’s eyes on you, undoubtedly assessing your nerves and sanity. Looking for the right thing to say. Something that would not make you flee any more than you already had removed yourself from the conversation. After a beat, he must have found it, for you heard him clear his throat and break the silence with a decisive conclusion:

“That’s their loss” despite the wishes of your reason, you looked up at Neil, only to find him smiling at you softly.

No traces of pity. No traces of contempt, either. Only a friendly smile, his back pressed against the mirrors and the notebook forgotten in his lap. It was enough to make you smile back as your hands tightened the bows of your pointes, following muscle memory. Once you were assured the knots were secure enough, you stood up and flashed Neil with a bright grin, officially moving on from that conversation:

“Both variations that I’ll show you will be Pas de Deux in the production. That means-” before you could delve into an explanation, Neil raised his hand, stopping your words without a catch.

“That they’re duets, I know” the trademark smirk appeared upon his face at your slightly bewildered look, and Neil added with a self-explanatory shrug, “I told you I’ve done my reading” that spark of satisfaction in his eyes was not something you thought you could ignore.

Partially because you were surprised by the research he has done, or, more accurately, you were surprised Neil cared that much. He has put in the effort without you even having to ask.

“I’m impressed” you made no moves to hide the affection from your eyes as you let another beat of silence pass you by, locked in his gaze as always. Once the moment passed, you nodded to reassure yourself and shake off the thoughts, and continued, “Since it’s just me tonight, it’ll look a little different. That’s a disclaimer” turning back to your phone, you scrolled down the track list to find the correct variation.

That nervous energy was back, but this time, you knew that only dancing could get rid of it. Only losing yourself in the movement would do the trick. Well, that and the constant look of admiration that Neil seemed to point at you. That, too, helped with the anxiety.

“No complaints from me. If I get to watch you triumph and look beautiful while you’re at it, I’m good” as if reading your mind, Neil shot you another fond smile and seemingly settled further into his chosen spot, the back of his head lightly propped against the barre.

The pose could not be comfortable, but he did not seem to mind it. His eyes traced your every move as you put down the phone after pressing play on the music and slowly walked over to the side of the room to take up the position.

At the last second, before you had to focus on the music and the steps, you met Neil’s gaze and smiled, a simple word of gratitude ready on your tongue:

“You’re incredible” you watched as his smile widened, and the warmth spread over your chest, lightening up the nerve endings in that curious way you never quite understood.

It did not matter. You took a deep breath and started, slipping almost effortlessly into the role of Snow Queen. From then on, everything was easy. You closed your eyes against the warm studio lights and moved through the choreography without a second of doubt.

The six-minute Waltz of the Snowflakes necessitated precision and focus, with each note requiring a shift, a pirouette or an arabesque. It was not an easy piece, and you could feel sweat trickle down your temples and underneath the black bodice as your wrap skirt followed graceful air movements with a mind of its own. Yet, still, despite the exertion, something about it felt right. Like it was a role that you were meant to play. Another chance to showcase that perhaps this is what you were supposed to do.

As you froze in the final position and the first orchestra track faded, you risked opening your eyes to gauge Neil’s reaction. He stared back, seemingly transfixed with his blue eyes almost alight with something you could not name. Upon your glance, the corner of his mouth quirked, revealing another of your favourite smiles. That had to do when it came to encouragement, for before you could notice anything else, the opening notes of the second waltz rang out in the studio space. Recognition flashed in Neil’s eyes as his foot started tapping out a familiar rhythm. Despite yourself, you grinned before silently counting the beats until your grand entrance.

The second role – Dew Drop Fairy, cheerfully leading a piece of Tchaikovsky’s music almost everyone knew, even if they insisted otherwise, was a variation you did not expect to like quite so much. It used to seem too lively, fleeting and sweet for someone like you. You were not sweet. Unless one considered liquorice a sweet – particular and not everyone’s cup of tea. Yeah, that comparison made much more sense. But then, one dreary afternoon, when you rehashed the choreography for the Waltz of the Flowers from the videos and memory, you found that it could work.

Maybe. Probably. (Probably not).

After hours of practice, you were tentatively leaning towards the affirmative. Maybe. Tonight, it felt almost close to getting rid of the ‘maybe’. It felt like it was meant to be. Even with the burn in your thighs and the strain in your arms from maintaining the frame. Even with the lingering fear before tomorrow’s audition threatening to take away any remaining pleasure. The closing notes of the waltz sounded in the studio as you landed the final pirouette and opened your eyes with a gasp, caught somewhere between the striking understanding of the rightness of it all and the sudden desire to look at Neil.

To let him see you.

His eyes were there, waiting for you, always inviting you to drown within their depths at your convenience.

Suddenly, death by drowning did not seem like a bad idea.

“How was that?” cutting the tortures of the unknown short, you pressed pause on the music and steeled your spine against his all-seeing gaze.

As if sensing your unease, Neil’s smile softened, his eyes showing nothing but the affection you had seen before. That smile was easier to breathe in. Easier to understand.

“You’re truly something else, aren’t you?” the flash of something in his face was much more difficult to understand. Your brow furrowed almost unconsciously as you tried to ignore the flush of gratitude at the open praise, “As I said, I’m no expert, but this looked effortless in a way that hours of hard work can only ensure” taking a meaningful pause to save your sanity, Neil shifted in his spot, folding his long legs and propping his chin on his knees. Adorable did not quite cover it, but it was the best word you could find, “This technique, the precision, just the way you hold yourself when you dance… I don’t know much about fate and such, but I do know that you were meant to be doing this” the glimmer in his eyes told you that was what he aimed to achieve with the speech.

That, yet again, Neil has seen through your bullshit and knew where the trouble was. What it was that you needed to hear. With your fidgeting body unable to stay still even for a second, you sat on the floor on the opposite side of the studio and tugged at the ribbons on your pointe shoes to take them off. It was better than standing stock-still in the light of his scrutiny. In the light of all things in his gaze that you did not want to acknowledge. Instead, you let your heart speak as it rarely had a chance to.

“I’d like to think so. When I’m dancing, it’s like nothing else matters. I’m free to do as I please. To be who I always wanted to be,” with the bows loose, your fingers picked at the strips of satin as more sincere words found their way out of your heart. Words you had never voiced before either, “In those moments, I want to believe that I’ve become her. That this is who I am. Maybe not perfect, but-” your second of hesitation did not go unnoticed.

Before you could find another stack of constants and vowels to put in the resounding silence, Neil interrupted you with a confident tone:

“You’re not perfect, but you’re real. I think that’s much more important” despite your desire to remain nonchalant, your head whipped up to steal a glance at him.

To understand what he could mean by such a bold statement. Instead, your attention was stolen by the fact that you did not expect Neil to start standing up from where he previously looked comfortable curled up on the floors. His intense gaze measured you up as you took off the ballet shoes and dropped the only question that seemed to make sense:

“Why?” without being able to name a reason, you stood up, following some innate sense of direction that scrambled in alarm the moment you understood Neil had something on his mind.

Something you could not foresee. It was not fear that made you move, backing away towards the barres, but rather that familiar connection that sparked in your body and soul. You were not scared of him but feared what his proximity tended to do to you.

You feared losing control. Again.

Simultaneously, there was nothing you wanted more. It must have been that reasoning that made Neil take a decisive step in your direction and close the remaining gap. You stared with mouth agape as he approached, with an almost unusual amount of certainty in every move and stilted your hands as they fidgeted at your sides. Gently, he squeezed your loose fists and let go, only to tilt your chin and force you to meet his gaze. You still did not understand what you were seeing in the depths of his eyes.

But for once, it was almost comforting. That knowledge that someone else was willing to take care of you and act in your place, and all you had to do was let them do it. It brought relief, easing burdens you had not known you had been carrying. You could see the understanding in Neil’s eyes as he gave another cursory look over your face and pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead, eliciting an effortless sigh. Once he pulled back, you both knew there would be no resistance no matter what he wanted to do.

Another affectionate smile was the last thing you saw before Neil turned you to face the mirrored wall and pressed his chest against your back. There was no space between your bodies as he embraced you tightly, his hands resting on your stomach and just below the collarbone. His proximity felt close to overwhelming, with the warmth of his touch burning your skin and the searing intensity of his gaze meeting yours in the mirror. You took a deep breath, needing to centre yourself somehow. If only to prolong what seemed inevitable at this point.

Tentatively, you raised your hands to cover his palm sprawled across your midsection and allowed yourself to relax, leaning into his body. That seemed to be the confirmation Neil needed to break the silence:

“Because I can do this” answering a question you did not even remember asking, Neil nuzzled the top of your head and allowed his nose to trace a path down the nape of your neck and under the ear, nosing at the pulse point, with the utter confidence of someone who has done this before.

And indeed, he has. The familiarity of where you had found yourself, enveloped in the most tempting of embraces with nothing but the mirrored walls to be your witness, did not escape you. It was a tried and checked position. One that you could not oppose because it felt too good. Too comfortable.

Yet, with your brain still not entirely overcome by the haze of arousal, there was opposition to be detected. It kicked and groused, reminding you incessantly how unlike you all this was. How dangerous, despite feeling like everything but. How outrageous to just let Neil have it. With an inward sigh, you tilted your head to offer more neck for his perusal (currently littering with tender pecks) and forced your voice to remain steady as you asked:

“Are you trying to seduce me again, Neil?” this question was an easy callback.

One that Neil instantly clocked as you saw the corner of his mouth curl up in a smirk. There was no need to add that the seduction worked the first time and did not have to be repeated. Or that he hardly had to do anything but ask to have you. He knew that already.

You stared as Neil bowed his head, the golden strands catching light, and your skin catching fire from his closeness and the gentle kisses on your neck. Breath caught in your throat as his teeth nibbled at the tender flesh.

“Not quite” raising his head to shoot you a cheeky smile, Neil gave your entwined bodies an appreciative glance before he met your gaze, the tentative touch of his wandering hands only moderately distracting, “It’s just that the last time I wasn’t brave enough to say what I really thought” the pointed look in his eyes completed the sentence with the unsaid.

With the words that hardly needed to be spoken. Especially with the fact that now that he had admitted it, Neil allowed himself to be even braver. The hand previously resting on your sternum moved lower. His firm yet gentle fingers skimmed down the neckline of your bodice to cup your breast, stoking fire in your veins. Despite yourself, you pressed your body into his hold and breathed out the only response you had the mind to conjure:

“I trust you know better now” the remains of defiance shone in your gaze as you jutted your chin out, hoping to appear unaffected.

A futile task, indeed.

Especially with the way Neil pressed another kiss to the crook of your neck, marking the skin subtly. Your fingers squeezed his palm, pressing it further against your abdomen, wishing for it too to move. To do something about the need pooling between your thighs, wetting the gusset of your panties and seeping into the fabric of your bodice. Squeezing your thighs to get even a fraction of relief, you swallowed a groan and entwined your hand with his. Neil finished a meticulous study of yet another plane of your skin between the neck and the slope of your shoulder and met your hazed gaze with confidence. It was a look you were increasingly familiar with. It sharpened his exquisite features, giving him a dangerous edge. An edge you were desperate to cut yourself open upon. The growing desperation seeped through the pores in your soul as Neil gave you another assessing glance and replied:

“Naturally. Seeing you like this, so confident and in your element, is… It’s working on me” this confession was proclaimed with much less confidence, almost as if Neil worried that it was something you could dislike hearing. An idiot, if you ever met one, “You’re so graceful, so beautiful,” you stared as his palms continued their journey. The hand pressed against your abdomen shifted southward and instantly made you gasp. The sound did not escape his attention as you saw the uncertainty fade from Neil’s gaze, replaced by the familiar hunger “I’d like to touch you,” the unspoken question in his voice hardly needed anything more than a nod.

A nod you had granted him instantly, desperate to feel his hands where you needed them.

And his thumb rubbing over your nipple through the fabric could only do so much. Read: not enough.

“You are touching me” arching your eyebrow to push Neil in the right direction, you widened your stance and propped your head on his shoulder, leaning against him with almost all your weight.

Neil did not seem to mind the move. You watched as those enthralling sparks appeared in his eyes, a foolproof sign of an idea taking shape in his mind. With agonizing slowness, his hand brushed down your mid-riff, pausing for a split second at the elastic band of your wrap skirt. He seemed to debate something for a split second before following with a settled decision and parting the tuille with careful fingers. The breath you were supposed to empty from your lungs stumbled with a gasp as you watched Neil’s hand disappear between the folds of your skirt. Before you could even think about exhaling the oxygen trapped in your lungs, you felt his hand slip between your thighs, curious fingers tracing the gusset of your bodice. Even without noticing the wolfish smirk on Neil’s face, you knew what he would encounter.

The evidence of your arousal has already dampened the fabric, only completing the pathetic picture you presented with the warmth flooding your face and an irregular breath making your chest rise and fall in an unnatural tempo. Tangled strands were plastered to your temple as you stared at the mirror, barely fighting the desire to take matters into your own hands. And get relief because Neil’s teasing touches running up and down your slit did absolutely nothing.

Nothing but get you even more frustrated.

“Not like this,” the annoyance must have shown on your face, for Neil retraced his hand from between your legs and met your gaze with something akin to resolution, “Would you like to come to mine for a drink?” there was no hesitation in the proposal.

Nothing to make you feel like Neil did not want to ask, or felt pressured to. And there was no objection you could find that would make sense because you very much wanted to go back to his place. And continue whatever this was.

Ideally, with much fewer clothes in place. Yet-

“Neil, we both know that it won’t be just a drink” meeting his gaze with a deadpan expression, you grabbed the hand he had just moved back to your stomach from between your thighs and kissed his fingers with intent.

Mostly, the intent of making Neil blush wildly, as he did. But also to show that despite your weak protest, you did not mind the course of the evening or where it would take you. It was only a matter of time until you let yourself give in for the second time. Until you had an opportunity to act out the fantasies, which multiplied in your mind since the first night.

“Is there anything wrong with that?” the hints of doubt in the question were something you would accept under any circumstances.

You hated how the worries could so quickly shade any sense of confidence or arousal from his face and body. You could feel his grip loosen, letting centimetres of space between you, which already felt out of place. Before your brain could concoct any farfetched ideas, you used the newly created gap to turn in his embrace. Strengthened by the element of surprise, you had the advantage of the time it took Neil to process the new state of things. You used it wisely, first placing your hands on his chest to gain the necessary leverage and then whispered the reply with all the determination of someone who knew what they were doing:

“Absolutely not” your gaze searched Neil’s eyes for hints of anything contrary, but you found nothing. Except the need for you to be the brave one. You were happy to comply, “I think I’d like it to be… more” slowly, you allowed your fingers to brush over the expanse of his chest, reassuring and strengthening the message.

Neil’s shy smile shone through the cracks of his uncertainty, making your heart soar. As always, being in the spotlight of his affection felt like the cosiness of sunlight on an icy winter morning. It felt right.

Neil’s hands previously hanging limply at his sides, came up to cover yours pressed against his chest. It was the only warning you got before he dropped the question with a dangerous edge to his smile:

“With ties and shit?” the lethal sparks in his eyes only completed the picture, instantly drawing you back to that moment.

To the brazen comment you made straddling his lap with an undone tie in your hand. To one of the fantasies that had been born at the same instant. For the sake of the future, you were glad to see Neil was not opposed to the idea. That concept was nowhere near gone from the growing list of your wishes and daydreams.

A sudden laugh bubbled from your throat, adding that familiar tint of madness to everything you ever said, felt or did with Neil. Madness you were willingly jumping head-first into.

“Not necessarily” your faux frown carried the suspense over till an appropriate amount of time had passed for you to drop the pretence and offer Neil another wide smile, “Although-”

Neil’s burst of laughter cut short any elaborate innuendos you could have planned. You would not have it any other way.

***

If someone asked you to envision Neil’s apartment without seeing it for the first time, you would never have imagined it to look like that. A medium-sized flat just five minutes from the Swiss Cottage Underground Station, filled with things. Posh twats would have perhaps called the space cluttered, but you preferred the adjective – lived-in. Because that is what it was. When Neil closed the door behind your back and let go of your hand for the first time since getting off the tube, you did not know where to look or which item to pick up and scrutinize. Not for the wish to judge but that same innate desire to understand him. To know everything you could about Neil.

“Welcome to my humble abode” as soon as the words were out of his mouth, along with a reassuring smile, you let go of the remaining apprehensions and leaned into the curiosity with the zeal of a scientist.

Almost reverently, you floated past the furniture lining up the corridor walls, peeking inside the wardrobe with its door left ajar. A row of jackets, including leather, denim, and a fleece, did not satisfy the desire to know, but it stoked the fire. Its sparks lit you up from within as you moved down the hallway to the living room, stopping at the threshold to take in the room. The most notable features included a bookshelf brimming with tomes of different colours and sizes, a worn-out leather sofa, shelves full of CDs and vinyl, a quality record player and… a piano. A piano. Of all things. An inconvenience.

Your eyes stopped at the sight, unable to move on from the object. It made so much sense, and yet it was not something you expected. The music sheets propped on the shelf told you it was frequently used, and, therefore, not a decorative item. Your paralysis must have shown on your face, for soon you heard Neil’s footsteps, the sound stopping just behind your back as you felt his hand touch your shoulder. Unconsciously, you leaned into his warmth, resting your back against his chest.

“Care to explain this?” you asked the question as soon as you had stifled the grin elicited by Neil pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

As if the meaning was unclear, you waved your hand at the instrument and looked up at him. From the vantage point, his hair looked like a halo, contrasting with the sharp edge of his smile and the hand he had returned to your chest.

“I’m no Chopin, but sometimes I like to play” shrugging, Neil glanced at the piano and added, “It’s very relaxing,” the thoughtfulness in his voice told you there was more to the story.

A conversation to pick up soon to know more about him, but, for now, more pressing matters directed your line of thought. Matters like the fire in your veins stoked by Neil’s touch and the persisting desire for things only he could provide.

“Mhmm. You’ve never mentioned it,” you frowned at the disappointment in your voice that you certainly did not wish to disclose.

It made no sense to have strong feelings towards an instrument. Secondly, you knew that Neil would latch onto this indescribable something and not let go until he understood the reasons. Despite being unable to see his face, you could already feel his curiosity spark. It did not take too long for him to grab at the chance and dig a little deeper:

“Didn’t think it’s relevant. Why? You’ve got an ick concerning pianists?” you did not like the hints of smugness in his tone or the way he tightened the hold over your body, fingers digging into your breast, overwhelming the senses.

You barely resisted the moan which got stuck in your throat, saving the remains of dignity. With the brain cells slowly transforming into horny idiots that could not do anything but thirst after Neil, there was not much opposition left in your system. What was the point, anyway? It was best to admit it now and have it over and done with so you could move on to more important pursuits.

You cleared your throat, buying for time (and pointedly ignoring Neil’s teasing touch drifting past your ribcage and further down your body) and closed your eyes as you admitted the truth:

“… No, no. Quite the opposite, actually” there.

And it was not something you had confessed to before, either. There was no need. No pianists to be met in Soho as you prowled the streets for another one-night stand. Or, at least, none admitted to playing the piano in the brief time together. But the fact was a fact. No matter how embarrassing or mortifying to say out loud.

Another fact was that as soon as you had noticed the piano in his apartment, the images started multiplying in your head, strengthening the undeniable truth that you did have a thing for pianists. Neil included.

“Well, that’s excellent news to me, Cupid” you could hear Neil’s smile in his voice as he placed his hands on your hips and turned you in the embrace to face him. As expected, the smirk was already there. As was the gleam in his eyes, telling you that your confession was welcomed. Before you could even consider saving face in any feasible way, he leaned in and captured your mouth in a searing kiss. One that made you cling to his shoulders, desperately seeking more. Whatever that would be. Parting way too soon, Neil gave you another infuriating grin and asked, “Would you like a vodka tonic?”

Despite the sudden desire to punch him in that annoyingly pretty face, you resisted the need and offered him a faux grimace, tinting the response with a weary sigh:

“Yep, I definitely need a drink after this” your gaze flicked over him, scanning Neil from head to toe, searching for places to strike when the time was right.

Which would be soon. Or so God help him.

From then on, it was almost too easy to let go. To fall into Neil and let him catch you. To take what you wanted from him. Unlike that first evening, this time was not slow; it was not deliberate in your mutual desire to understand and to learn. It was a tumble, fast and tasting of vodka tonic and coming back home. But you would never tell him that.

Instead, you touched him, indulging in every sigh, gasp and moan you could elicit. You kissed him, taking everything Neil was offering and demanding more. You let him touch every inch of your skin. And when you could not wait any longer, you settled atop his lap and took him, your fingers tracing the marks you had left on his chest and neck. This, too, was unforgettable.

When it was over, and you left his flat with an amicable smile and a strange ache in your chest, you took the long way home. Walking down Finchley Road, you tried to understand what it was. What made Neil different? Why was it difficult to switch off your head and heart when you were with him? Why, sometimes, when he looked at you, you felt like you mattered in the grand scheme of things? Why did all this matter so much? Why did it pain you to realise you did not remember a single detail from his bedroom? Why the fuck did you care?

But you did not know. You did not understand. With a weary sigh, you stifled the questions and glanced at the sky. The blue moon shone down at you. You smiled back and ignored the doubts.

It didn’t matter.

***

You did not want to analyze why your first thought after getting the cast list for this season’s Nutcracker was to message Neil with good news. Or why you did that before you even congratulated the other girls. Without letting yourself hesitate over the sensibility of your life choices, you took out the phone from your pocket and typed out a simple message:

/ 🏹, 12:57 pm/ Say hello to your new friend, the Snow Queen and the Dew Drop Fairy :)

You did not have to wait long for his reply.

/✝️, 12:58 pm/ So now there’s two of you? Lucky me :)

/✝️, 12:58 pm/ Congratulations, Cupid. I knew you could do it, sweetheart.

/ 🏹, 12:59 pm/ Thank you, you’ll definitely hear me yap about it for the next two months.

/✝️, 1:00 pm/ I wouldn’t have it any other way, darling. How was the audition?

/ 🏹, 1:01 pm/ It was surprisingly easy. Might even say a walk in the park…

/ 🏹, 1:01 pm/ Getting laid the night before might be the key to success.

/✝️, 1:02 pm/ You’re welcome. We can make that a tradition if you’d be so inclined.

/ 🏹, 1:02 pm/ Gladly. You should know I’ll never say no to great sex.

/✝️, 1:03 pm/ So you’re telling me it was great?

/ 🏹, 1:03 pm/ You know that it was, Neil.

/✝️, 1:04 pm/ Yeah, I know. You’re also great, btw. My darling, my sweetheart, you.

The idiotic smile on your face seemed unavoidable as you locked the screen and forced yourself to abandon the conversation for now. Even if just to preserve the remains of your sanity. But also to finally talk to the girls. Somewhere at the periphery of your attention, you could feel their gazes boring holes into your head. Always so attentive and curious, you doubted your manic grin would escape their attention. Unfortunately.

You did not have to wait long for the proverbial penny to drop.

“Who’s that smile for?” the sweetness in Jemima’s tone made you frown as you pocketed the phone and forced yourself to meet her searching gaze.

The girl was a fantastic friend, someone you and the other soloists could depend on whether to borrow an emergency pad or ask for help during rehearsals. But, as you already knew too well, she was also nosy. And ever since you introduced Neil to the squad those two weeks ago, another interrogation was hanging over your head. Now, the time has run out.

“No one particular, Jem,” forcing your angelic smile to reappear, you leaned back in the chair by your dressing table and started rummaging through the make-up bag without looking for anything.

You were not willing to make this easy. To embarrass yourself in front of the girls without a fight or even an attempt at pretending nothing was happening. Never in a million years.

“That sounds like an avoidance to me” Jemima’s voice did not lose a dose of its confidence as she arched an eyebrow and moved closer to your desk to corner you.

Verbally and physically. And your patience was running thin. Stifling a curse, you swivelled on the chair to look at the woman and replied:

“That’s your problem” aiming for a sassy rebuttal, you shot her a saccharine smile and turned back towards the mirror.

The glaring lack of arguments you could offer had to be ignored. However, you were painfully aware that it would not be. Not with them.

As if she could hear your internal crisis unfolding, Grace stood up from her chair, where she acted out the impassioned audience role and joined you on the opposite side, leaning over your shoulder like a keen angel of inconvenience. Her long blonde hair brushed over your collarbone as she met your glare through the mirror and added her part:

“Jem has a point, though. You’ve been somewhat more… cheery recently” as though driven to make you seethe with anger, Grace lifted the corner of your mouth into a caricature of a smile. You swatted her hand away and let out a groan, barely resisting the urge to storm out of there. You knew it would be pointless, only prolonging the questioning until the next opportune moment, “Is that Neil’s doing?” she innocently batted her eyelashes in the face of your ire.

There it was. A collective gasp from the other girls made you roll your eyes as you considered the options. Utter denial of Neil’s existence was now off the table. Sighing, you steeled your spine and decided to lay it all out. The official version. The one you maintained with everyone involved, including yourself.

“Well, we are still friends if that’s what you’re asking. And we might’ve fucked once or twice” the crude addition did what you needed it to as you took note of the resounding gasp, followed by giggles and knowing smiles from your ever-persistent audience.

You hoped it would be enough to stop the questions. If needed, you were willing to impart the knowledge of just how good Neil was at sex. Or how driven he was to make you come each time. That should do the trick.

But before you could even open your mouth to share the dirty details, Jemima patted your shoulder almost protectively and spoke:

“Good for you” worst of all, you could tell she meant it. She was happy you had Neil in whatever capacity you did. You forced your heart not to soften and went back to mindlessly sorting through the make-up. Soon, she proved you right, yet again, “Does that mean you’ve gotten over your little hang-up?” although the question could not have been any less straightforward, something about how she asked made your attention prick up.

Despite your wish to at least appear unbothered, you raised your head and turned towards the woman with an arched eyebrow at a ready:

“What do you mean?” the glare in your eyes was there to assure Jemima that your guard was still up.

That she had not succeeded. And never would.

You stared into her hazel-green eyes as the woman contemplated the pros and cons of risking your fury. Although you had a couple of guesses towards where it was going, you still did not anticipate the question that broke the tense silence next:

“Have you finally joined the club of losers in love?” you certainly did not like the knowing look in her eyes, paired with a soft smile, suggesting that (somehow) Jemima could see into the depths of your heart and soul.

She saw all the ugliness and the fears and was willing to address things you never even dared think of. It terrified you, and you had to look away before she saw too much. Swallowing hard, you turned back towards the mirror and scoffed, falling back on the familiar. It has not disappointed you yet.

“No, of course not” it was easy to throw the assumption back at her as if it was the most ridiculous thing you had heard. It was nonsensical, “You know me. Love doesn’t exist in my book. I’m not willing to fool myself into thinking it could be real. I’m not delusional” the edges of ire crept into your tone, making you spit out the words with more vehemence than necessary.

As soon as your tirade ended, regrets set in. They were strengthened by the sudden silence from the group, taken aback by your reaction. Covering your face with your palms, you hunched over the dressing table and sighed heavily.

“Harsh, love. But you do you” you felt the coolness of her touch as Jemima squeezed your shoulder and left your side, finally offering merciful respite.

One look at her through the mirror told you all the savage words were forgiven. You did not have to atone. But that did not mean you were not already plotting ways to make it up to them. Chocolates and coffee seemed like the best choices at present.

Before you could decide, your phone buzzed in your pocket, and you took it out to look at the screen. Another text from Neil.

/✝️, 1:27 pm/ Do you want to visit the church tomorrow?

/✝️, 1:27 pm/ I figured it’s time you uncovered the greatest secret of my existence.

/ 🏹, 1:28 pm/ Oh, fuck yes.

/ 🏹, 1:28 pm/ Where do we meet?

/✝️, 1:28 pm/ Canary Wharf station. Where we kissed that one morning. Be there sharp at 9 am.

/ 🏹, 1:29 pm/ You know it, babes.

And just like that, your mood has lifted.

No, you were not willing to understand that either.

[atrwriting]

chapter twelve: the wolf and the dragon (modern!gangleader!aemond x barowner!you)

as always, warnings: no smut, aemond and you are at each other's throats, mentions of death and violence, listen aemond is an asshole in this chapter ok steer clear but also dont lmao

....chapter twelve:

“eat.”

a plate was slammed down on the coffee table.

“piss off,” you spat.

“i said eat.”

“and i said piss off.”

that is how it has been since aegon left. aemond was attempting to tend to you, but you refused any and all sort of help. you lay planted on the couch, curled around yourself, shying away from the already dim light.

“your anger towards me should not keep you from eating,” he seethed. “then you’d die because of spite towards me, and you would lose.”

“this isn’t a game to me, aemond,” you retorted. “you can’t lose if you refuse to play.”

“you’re insufferable,” he spat, falling back into the chair again. “tell me what will make you see reason.”

“you taking anger management classes.”

“i already said—“

“you said you were wrong, yes, but what does that do for me?” you cried. “i don’t need an apology. they’re useless, especially coming from you when you’ll just do the same thing again.”

“i wouldn’t do that to you again,” he spat. “i shouldn’t have put my hands on you, and i know that — luke — just —“

“that doesn’t make it okay, aemond,” your voice was soft, not because you felt sympathy for him, but because you were tired.

“i deserved everything you said to me,” he replied. “you received the brunt of my anger towards my sister and her kids.”

“i know,” you sighed. “what did lucerys even do?”

“it doesn’t matter.”

“tell me,” you demanded. “he was in my bar before he fucking died, aemond. with you. i deserve to know.”

“nothing,” he spoke. “he did nothing.”

“you don’t get mad over nothing,” you spat. “even i know that."

but he didn't answer you. you thought he never would.

* * *

you drifted into sleep engulfed by the sweet smell of the laundry detergent you only used for your sheets. your favorite blanket was curled around you, your head was on the exact pillow that always brought you the best rest, and you were in your favorite pajamas. nothing could compare to that level of comfort.

except when the throbbing of your headache came back.

and you remembered putting on those pajamas, but not how you got into bed.

then you realized: someone carried you to bed.

you swallowed thickly and sighed in frustration. you hated being touched when you weren’t conscious, as would anyone.

in spite of the splitting headache, you rose to your feet and wrapped the blanket around your shoulders. you could hear distant sounds of a television on in the living room, and your curiosity got the best of you. with quiet feet and lips, you padded out of your bedroom and into the living room.

aemond sat on your couch stiffly as if he was a stranger to unwinding on the couch, let alone any comfort at all. he had removed his eyepatch and left it on the table, probably assuming he would be alone for the night. his neck was resting on top of the back cushion of the couch and one hand rested on one of his spread knees. his chest was bare, and the television cast shadows along all of the taut muscles of his abdomen and upper body. gray sweats hung low on his hips, and his free hand played with the string of his pants.

you had seen him without his eyepatch, clothes on, the works… but you had never seen his hair hanging loose around him.

people thought the most intimidating thing about aemond was his eyepatch and abrasive nature, but that man never entered a public space without an elastic pulling back the front pieces of his hair. targaryens were known for their long, silver hair, and they were proud of it, but aemond rarely was allowed to keep unruly locks in his face like his brother. he needed to see what was in front of him.

“i’m still mad at you,” you whispered groggily, approaching the corner.

he didn’t move. aemond’s gaze remained on the television.

“i didn’t think otherwise.”

you swallowed. “but i would like to watch television.”

he didn’t even shrug. “it’s your living room.”

unlike him, you were no stranger to comfort. you pushed yourself as far away from him as possible so you could curl up into a ball and rest your head against the armrest of the couch. the bright light of the television hurt your head, so you scrunched your eyes closed and pushed your face further into the pillow.

the time passed like this for a few moments. the night had brought so many events… you needed to catch your breath, and for some reason that was sitting silently with aemond. it shouldn’t have been, but it was.

“i know the lights are hurting you,” he rasped. “i put you in the bedroom for a reason.”

“like you said: it’s my living room.”

he hummed. you figured he would leave it at that, but he didn’t… and you could hear his reluctant and uncomfortable thought process in his next words. “it was wrong of me to put my hands on you like i did... and threaten you. i know you won’t believe me until you see it, but it won’t happen again.”

you swallowed. “i’ve never seen you like that.”

“i’m sorry you were there to witness… the short comings of my family. you received the brunt of it, and that was not fair.”

“your cousin is dead, aemond,” you ventured. “you saw him die. you were there.”

he turned his face towards you, raising it so it was no longer laying against the couch. “it’s not like i wanted it to happen the way it did.”

“he was just a kid, aemond…” you spoke.

“he’s barely four years my junior,” he spat. “and i was a kid when he took my eye.”

“i never said it wasn’t wrong what he did to you,” you attempted to diffuse the situation.

“and i never said i needed you to,” he retorted.

your teeth sank into your bottom lip. “did you want him dead?”

“not by my hand,” he bit.

“are you happy he’s dead?”

no words left aemond’s mouth. you would’ve turned around to address the situation, but before you could you felt a small bit of wind brush past you, into the hallway, and it was followed by a door slamming.

great, you sighed.

over the next hour, you tried to get sleep but failed miserably. it usually wasn’t difficult for you to sleep during the day, but the fight with aemond was on your mind. it shouldn’t have been, and you shouldn’t have felt guilty, but you couldn’t deny that you would’ve reacted the same way as aemond if the roles were reversed.

but the roles would never be reversed, because i would never place myself in a situation like that, you countered yourself.

some of us don’t get the privilege to pick what situations were placed in, you heard aemond’s voice in your head.

fuck.

you didn’t like how the two sides of the situation battled within your already aching head. on one hand, aemond was a dick who physically and verbally assaulted you. on the other hand, he was also a victim.

but he was someone else’s victim.

he made you a victim when he put his hands on you.

his victim.

he could lock himself in your bedroom for days, weeks, months… didn’t matter, as long as he promised to rot in there.

* * *

aegon had swung by later while you were sleeping. his loud demeanor caused you to stir awake, but he shushed you back to sleep before plopping food down on the table. having a third person there brought you some comfort, but as soon as you were about to sit up, aegon left through the door. your jaw tightened at the sight.

aemond came out quickly after he heard the door open. his face fell the same way when he saw that aegon was no longer in the room.

“did he say anything before he left?” he asked.

“no,” you replied. “is that good or bad?”

he didn’t respond.

he pulled out some food from the bag and handed it to you.

“i will shove this down your throat in the most respectful manner i can manage if you don’t eat,” he stated.

you rolled your eyes before taking the sandwich. “how gentlemanly of you, prince aemond.”

he sat down on the chair next to you and opened his own sandwich. “i’m not leaving until you finish that entire thing.”

you threw your hands up in resignation. “what do you care, aemond? i’m staying out of you way like you wanted, and for my own good. plus, you’d probably find some way to get the bar if i starved to death. you don’t exactly lose in this situation.”

“you’re being too emotional,” he stated plainly.

you scoffed. “do not dismiss me, especially with sexist reasoning. i have every right to express how i feel about how you, your brother, and the rest of your family have disrupted my life.”

“hmm.”

there wasn’t enough emotion from him and that’s what pissed you off. how could he just sit there, not even angrily defending himself or his family? how could he be so reserved when there was so much at stake?

you immediately got to your feet and began to stalk away. “you’re unbelievable.”

aemond stood up and grabbed you by the arm. “don’t walk away from me.”

you tried to shake his arm off but he wouldn’t budge. “let go of me, aemond. now.”

he didn’t move. “i told you to eat. you are going to eat."

your eye bags and hair were probably crazy, your pajamas were ruffled, and your head was begging you to lay back down… but you couldn’t take it anymore. your frustration and sadness were bubbling up somewhere deep inside you and you couldn’t control it.

“what has gotten into you?” you asked. “i’ve never pushed your boundaries. ever. yet ever since we hooked up, you treat me horribly. what did i do to you?”

he responded too quickly, and too emotionless. “nothing.”

you scoffed. “you don’t act like that over nothing, aemond. you claim i don’t know you, and maybe that’s true, but i know one thing: you do not scorn someone unless they scorned you.”

“is that what got you off, princess?” he spat. “me fucking you? or you getting under my skin?”

you scrunched your eyebrows together as your lips parted in a broken ‘o’ shape. your eyes searched his for something, anything, but there was nothing. not even that blue sapphire in his eye socket offered you anything. hard like stone, just like him.

“don’t have to worry about that anymore,” you whispered, standing up and wrapping the blanket around your shoulders. “i almost asked you if you were okay after what happened with your cousin… but now i realize i truly don’t care.”

there was no venom in your voice like your usual bickerings with aemond. you were exhausted, mentally and physically. tightening the blanket around your shoulders did nothing to offer you comfort, and suddenly you realized you would probably be a stranger to it the remainder of the night as well.

you crawled into bed and tried to find the comfort you were missing in the sheets, but soon your limbs were tangled in the mess and it only made frustrated gasps leave your lips. you kicked at the sheets, throwing them off of you, before the cold air met the scorched skin of your legs. despite the fact that you were overheating, you refused to give up your blanket. your head was pounding, you were hot, and it felt like you could cry.

but then you heard a knock on the door.

you accidentally ignored it because you were frozen in place.

you heard a second.

“fuck off,” you muttered.

you were faced away from the door and didn’t bother looking when it opened. you knew it would be the handsome, shirtless asshole that once made his lair your living room.

“i brought you ibuprofen,” he rasped. “and water.”

“please fuck off,” you replied simply. “i have some.”

he walked over to your nightstand, on the same side of the bed as where you lay. he placed the items down on the table and sat down on your side of the bed. there were a few inches between the two of you, but the closeness made a shiver run up and down your spine.

“i regret hurting you,” he began. “and i regret my actions after we were intimate.”

“my head hurts too much for a heart-to-heart, aemond,” you grumbled. “but i’m being honest when i say this — you ever touch me like that again, i will gut you. i mean it.”

“i’m aware, but — please, just… you don’t need to say anything. i just need you to listen, okay?”

you sighed, closing your eyes. “okay.”

“i had never… done that before. with someone that i knew… saw everyday… and also cared for,” he admitted.

he avoided your eye contact as he stared at the floor. his legs were spread as he rested his forearms on his strong thighs, hands clasped. his spine was bent like that of an angel, ready to take flight, or a dragon… ready to burn everything to the ground with one muscle.

“you’re mean to people you care for?” you scoffed. “what’re you, in third grade?”

his head turned to you. even in the bit of moonlight that shown through the window, you could see him glare at you.

you lightly chuckled. “you deserved that.”

he clenched his jaw as he returned his gaze on the floor. “my actions deserve that and more, actually.”

“no pity parties,” you quipped. “they’re uncomfortable. if you’re really sorry, you won’t say it. you’ll just never do it again, and if you’re really, really sorry — you’ll make it up to them.”

“you’re right,” he settled. “how can i make it up to you?”

you swallowed. “i want to have a conversation about lucerys.”

he scoffed. “with my money and power, you could have everything you want, yet… you ask for that; the one thing i really don’t want to do.”

you scrunched your eyebrows. “i have my own money, thanks. if you were really sorry, aemond… you’d have a real, honest, and calm conversation about what happened tonight.”

he smacked his tongue against the back of his teeth before turning to you. he clenched his jaw before asking, “what do you want to know?”

you swallowed. “start with what you’re comfortable telling me.”

“i didn’t mean to let it get this far…” he began. “i hated him so much… but i didn’t want him to die. at least… not like this. people i care for are now at risk because of me.”

he didn’t say anything for a few moments, so you piped up. “i’m not defending you, but from a legal standpoint… lucerys showed as much negligence as you did. in fact, probably more; he was in a car, and you were on a motorcycle. he wasn’t really defending himself if he’s hitting your motorcycle with his car. you antagonized the fight… but he could have easily called his mother, daemon, the police… anyone, and then blame you for the damage done to his car. i gave the kid a head start, he didn’t do what he should’ve done with it.”

“don’t defend me,” he spat. “he’s dead because of me.”

you sighed. “you’re right, but if you wanted him dead — actually dead — you would’ve shot him point blank a long time ago. you’re ruthless, aemond… but you’re not sloppy when you want someone dead.”

“you think rhaenyra will believe that?” he scoffed. “daemon? there’s a price on my head now, and that of my family.”

it was your turn to scoff. “they’re fucking hypocrites, aemond. i know you know that.”

he stared at you for a long time after you said your words. when he didn’t move an inch, expressionless, a dip in the middle of your brow showed off your confusion and apprehension to his lack of a response. his lips parted in a way where he possibly meant to say something, but you weren’t sure.

“what?” you asked.

“no one’s ever… said that,” he admitted. “no one’s ever really… condemned them for that. been loyal to me… when they didn’t have to.”

“yeah, i could tell,” you sighed. “especially after your dickhead manifesto in the bathroom the night where aegon got sick.”

“i didn’t…” he trailed off, searching your face for the answer. “i didn’t know how to… respond. you were just so… willing to help, always. i didn’t understand why. you don’t even speak to your family… i couldn’t understand why you would want a part in mine, let alone why i should trust you with it.”

you narrowed your eyes at him. “family doesn’t mean automatic loyalty and love, aemond. you of all people should know that.”

he didn’t respond, contemplating your words.

“i left my family because i would rather be alone than beg for common decency from people that brought me into this world,” you spat. “i choose who gets to be in my life now.”

he swallowed. “i used to think it was disloyal and careless of you to leave your family. now it seems like it was for survival.”

you clenched your jaw. “add psychoanalysis to the top ten things i hate.”

“i meant…” he trailed off. “i meant to say i rejected your affection because i didn’t think you knew what loyalty was. now… i realize i was wrong.”

“bit insulting you ever questioned it,” you grumbled. “what a shitty reason to hurl as many insults my way as you did that night…”

“i said horrible, untrue things about you,” he admitted. “i didn’t understand how someone who asked nothing of my brother or i could go out of your way for us as much as you did. i’ve never been so caught off guard in my life.”

“i didn’t verbally say what i wanted, but it was there,” you stated.

“what do you want?” he quipped.

“i liked having you and aegon around, even if you both were annoying sometimes,” you sighed. “and i wanted to talk about… that night…”

“okay,” he simply stated, much like that night.

you clenched your jaw. “i know you’re capable of more than one word, aemond.”

“what do you want me to say?” he demanded. “it was good? i believe i already made that quite clear —“

“you’ve being an ass,” you spat. “it was just meaningless sex to you?”

he swallowed. “i assumed it was for you?”

“don’t answer my question with a question,” you retorted.

“i didn’t-“

“yes you did-“

"no, i didn't-"

"aemond, you did-"

“i already told you what it was,” he spat.

“when?!” you demanded, dumbfounded.

he sighed. “i never did that with someone i… cared for before.”

you narrowed your eyes at him. “define care.”

“don’t make me spell it out,” he gritted.

“forgive me if i need clarity, from ‘one sentence’ aemond,” you spat.

he grunted. “you are so insufferable that i don’t know how i enjoy your company.”

“you suck at clarifying,” you spat. “thank the gods you’re a scary, all black wearing, motorcycle driving, gangleader and not a-“

he interrupted you by throwing his hands down on the bed in resignation. “oh, for fuck’s sake—“

he leaned forward abruptly and smashed your lips together.

you accidentally let out a small squeak from buried in your throat at the intrusion.

never in a million years did you think aemond targaryen would raise one hand to rest on your cheek as his lips enveloped yours. your lips were frozen against his as they molded perfectly to fit yours. at the last moment… you leaned in and kissed him back. you matched his passion, his sense of urgency, and his desperate want for you against him.

after a moment, he pulled away and leaned his forehead against yours. you both were breathing heavily, letting each other’s breaths fan across the other’s face. his hand still rested against your cheek where his thumb rubbed small paths against your skin.

“clear enough for you?” he asked.

“you’re so fucking mean to me, aemond,” your voice cracked as you leaned your forehead against his. “you hurt me so badly.”

“let me take the pain away from you, sweetheart.”

[crissiebaby]

Sissy's First Date: Chapter 4

DISCLAIMER: This POV story contains diaper usage, forced crossdressing, public humiliation, masturbation/diaper sex, and other ABDL themes. I hope you enjoy!

Commissioned By: Anon

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

“Ahhhhhh! That hit the spot,” I said as I leaned back while hooking my feet around the wooden picnic table’s support beam to keep from falling backward. Rubbing my tummy, I savored the aftertaste of the cheeseburger and fry combo I had eaten. It was far from the best burger I’d ever eaten but just about anything would’ve tasted like heaven with Becca at my side. 

Watching me finish my food like a hawk, Becca waited for me to lean forward in my seat again before reaching toward me with a napkin and gently wiping the crumbs away from my mouth “You did a great job following my instructions to eat delicately. I should only have to touch up your lips. Well done, Cherry-baby” she said, remarking on the minimal damage to the diligent work she had done painting my face. Her complement caused me to retreat into my shell like a turtle as I shrunk down and hid myself behind my shaky hands without letting them touch my face, unable to suppress my unadulterated happiness. I could listen to her dote on me for hours.

*Peck!*

Suddenly, something warm, wet, and gentle grazed the side of my face. My mind skipped the tracks as my hand cupped my burning cheek, the remnants of Becca’s lipstick mark dusting my fingertips with a dash of red.

“Hey now, no touching. Remember?” said Becca, flicking the back of my hand and nudging it away from my face, “Besides, I want everyone to know exactly who you belong to.” It was clear she expected me to wear the imprint of her lips on my skin for the remainder of our date; an embarrassing display that had me feeling unquestionably giddy.

Standing up from the picnic table, Becca quickly circled until she was stationed behind me, offering me no time to climb out of my seat as well. This was intentional as a pair of loving arms soon draped across my chest and began playing with the bow sown to the chest of my dress. “Hmmm...I don’t know about you but I’m still a bit peckish. How about we stop for some dessert before our next ride? Doesn’t that sound fun?” she cooed, beckoning me to follow her like an obedient pet.

Nodding my head, my voice cracked as I muttered, “That- *cough* That sounds nice.” I winced as an immediate cackle succeeded my fatal squeak, further burying me in blushiness.

Becca’s laughter would come to an abrupt end, though, as an unfortunate sight graced her line of sight. She lowered her head and ducked down, prompting me to do the same. “Shit, what the fuck are they…Ugh! Nevermind. We need to get out of here,” she said, her mood starkly shifting from romantic and bright to serious and distressed.

“Wait, what? What’s going on?” I said, naively stretching my neck upward as I looked in the same direction Becca had.

Grabbing the collar of my shirt, Becca attempted to tug me downward, whispering loudly, “Nonono! Cherry, get down!”

Unfortunately, it was too late for that. It was only a split-second but a split-second was all that was needed as I noticed a distinct pair of eyes with the same colored irises as mine. “A-Abby,” I muttered, spotting my sister at the exact same moment that she spotted me. A cruel smile formed as she pointed in my general direction.

Why the hell was Abby here?! We were two towns away from where we lived. Moreover, she hated county fairs, giving her less than zero reason to be in the same place Becca and I were. I wanted to run as fast as my legs could carry me. It was bad enough to be femmed up at their hands. To have them catch me voluntarily dressing this way was a death sentence. But my jelly legs refused to move, locking me in place as my sister waded through the busy crowd with her usual posse of Kiah and Sarah at her side. “B-Becca, can you help me-…Becca?” I said, angling my head backward, only to notice that my date had seemingly vanished, leaving me all alone at the picnic table in my sissy dress and diapers.

“Well, well, well! What are the odds we’d run into my little brother while we’re here,” said Abby, refusing to acknowledge me as her equal twin while I was dressed the way I was, “Though, I’m not sure I should be using a manly term like “brother” so loosely.”

I could feel my soul actively dying with each snicker that came out of my sister's mouth. Any happiness I had attained from my date had been fully erased. In a last-ditch effort to spare myself further humiliation, I tried to get up from my seat so I could make a break for it. Sadly, I wouldn’t even get through step one of my makeshift plan as Kiah’s heavy hand planted itself on my shoulder, keeping me locked in place. It was a harsh dichotomy from the way Becca had stood over me only a moment before.

Scooching in next to me with her phone in hand, Sarah wrapped an abrasive arm around my satin-covered waist as she displayed a picture of me waiting in line for the Ferris Wheel with a diaper poking out from under the skirt ever so slightly. “I almost didn’t believe it when I saw you. I’ve never been so happy that my mom made me come home from college this weekend,” she said, squeezing me and forcing me to endure another round of high-pitched giggling, “Who’s your little friend, by the way? I never got a good look at who your diapee buddy was.”

“Yeah, that’s what I wanna know,” said Abby, plopping herself down in front of Becca’s tray and putting up her feet on my thighs, “Like what, did you candy ass start scrolling through Grindr the second we freed you until you found a fellow sissy loser? You know, you weren’t supposed to enjoy what we did to you.”

Listening to Abby and Sarah’s dialogue, it became obvious why Becca fled from the scene at lightning speed. They had no idea what secrets their peppy bombshell of a friend was harboring. Perhaps I could use this to my advantage. Outing Becca as my date did had the potential to move the target off of my back and onto hers. And it wasn’t like she had any problem with ditching me to save herself.

However, as I looked down at the candid photo of Becca and myself waiting for our turn on the Ferris Wheel, my mind leaped back to the amazing time we’d had together up to this point. Becca didn’t have to make herself vulnerable to me but she did. Regardless of her present cowardice, that was something I refused to let my sister take away from me. “Well…I did enjoy it,” I said, putting on as confident of a face as I could muster, “S-So what?”

Staring up at each other in disbelief, none of the three girls were exactly sure how to respond. It was only when Abby forced out a laugh that other girls started chortling alongside her. Steeling my composure to the best of my ability, I closed my eyes, drowned out their voices, and let the stain of Becca’s kiss continue to burn on my cheek; its warmth strengthening my resolve.

“Haha! You trying to act tough when dressed like this is so adorable,” said Abby in between cackling, turning up the dial on her viciousness in an attempt to get me to break, “I can’t wait to get home. The four of us are going to have a blast burning all your old, icky boy clothes. A pansy like you clearly doesn’t need them anymore. Just wait until Dad finds ou-”

“HEY!”

In an instant, the noisy, bustling fairgrounds went quiet, as did the mockery of my sister and her friends. My eyes shot open, allowing me to witness Becca’s spectacular return. Marching up to our table, she physically shoved Sarah and Kiah away from me, freeing me from their shackle-like grip. She didn’t dare make eye contact with the others as she pulled me out of my seat and into her arms. “Sorry, I was gone for so long, sweetie,” she said, pretending as though the world around us didn’t exist as she straightened out my skirt before threading her fingers through mine and escorting me away from the table, “C’mon, we’ll get your lipstick fixed up while we wait in line for the next ride.”

Glancing back at the picnic table shrinking in the distance, I relished the stunned silence that Becca left my sister and her friends in. The look on Abby’s face specifically was priceless. Part of me wished I could stay a few moments longer so as to record every inch of my sister’s priceless expression to memory. Unsurprisingly, that small part stood no chance against the warpath Becca was forging as she rushed us away from the food vendors, her eyes locked forward. I could only guess at the number of troubling things swirling around in her mind.

Eventually, we stopped at the tail end of a nearly empty line for a dark ride auspiciously named, The Tunnel of Love. I could only guess that Becca wanted to get out of sight as soon as possible. Tragically, the emotions that Becca and I were stuck processing were anything but lovey-dovey feelings. “Hey…are you okay?” I asked, catching my breath after speed-walking across half the fairground, “I totally get it if you wanna call it after that.”

“No!” shouted Becca instinctively, forcefully clearing her throat afterward in an attempt to cover up her panicked refusal, “No, I’m okay. I promise. I want the date to keep going…unless, of course, you’re ready for it to end.”

Shaking my head vehemently, I wasn’t ready for this day to end by a long shot. “Nuh-uh, I really don’t want this to end. This…this is the most fun I’ve ever had in my life,” I said earnestly, my cheeks filling with a different kind of blush; the romantic kind.

Becca’s face took on a similar hue, allowing her to flash a smile for the first time since the incident. “Me too. I love getting to spend time with you like this. It’s not really something I’ve ever gotten to do before,” she said, her feet squirming in place thanks to the rawness of her sentiment, “Promise you won’t get upset but…there’s something I wasn’t completely honest about.”

The deepening of Becca’s voice told me everything that I needed to know. Whatever she was about to tell me was something of incredible importance, maybe even something she’d never admitted to anyone else. I nodded to her again and listened closely.

“I lied to you when I said that…the diapers I made you wear were an ex-boyfriend’s,” said Becca, unable to face me as her watering eyes traced the cracks in the cement, “It was just such an exciting opportunity. That stunt you pulled at your sister’s sleepover? I’d read countless stories with scenarios just like it. So…I decided to take advantage of that, and I had to lie to everyone, including you, to pull it off. I’m sorry. I know you must hate me now for getting you tangled up in my kink so I’ll understand if-”

*Peck!*

Ceasing my chance to return the affection Becca had bestowed upon me earlier, I leaned in while she was mid-sentence and placed a kiss on her cheek, leaving the same mark behind that she had. “Just letting everyone know who you belong to, right?” I said brashly, my heart and lungs imploding simultaneously in a display of shameless romanticism.

Much like I had done, Becca’s hand rose to meet the kissy mark left behind on her face. Unlike me, though, she needed no one to instruct her to keep from wiping it off. I could feel myself growing stiff as we gazed at each other, aroused purely by the love I was feeling. Well, love and the softness of my soaking wet diaper.

Wrapping her arms around me, Becca and I cozied up to each other. Our next stop: The Tunnel of Love. I couldn’t imagine a more fitting destination.

TO BE CONTINUED…

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[miilkyrolls]

a finch rambleshit of id2's finale

now that id2 is fully released for vip and is on its way to being wide released. i have some thoughts in the form of a tag "rambleshit" noun: a long winded, strings of thought, typically about a choices book made by finch

minor spoilers, BUT JUST IN CASE

okay let's get my final feelings about the book/ last couple of chapters out the way. i've needed these last few days for 2 reasons: one, the last chapter came out on my birthday and i was literally sitting in the parking lot waiting for my reservation while watching the Himeme playthrough , and two, i needed to digest just how much exposition lore was dropped in the last 2-3 chapters that to a point I felt overwhelmed ! Anyways, overall score 8.5/10. it was a good book story wise, however, it had SO MUCH RETCON and plot holes to a point that i felt like id2 could've been it's own standalone, set apart from id1 (kinda like untamable vs unbridled). there's a few i could explain away, for example, the concept that was the entire point of book one about how vampires get sick from even the tiniest bit of fellow vampire blood, but we have an entire ceremony of vampires doing the exact opposite? or the scene where cas bites mc's lip and licks the blood away. now, imo this could be explained as A) the vampires are just biting for the symbolic purpose of the ritual OR they're injecting venom without drinking mc's blood (which kinda makes less sense then the former but anyways) and B) Cas just doing shit for the sexy thrill or whatever which i can accept

what I CAN'T explain away is things like..mc having powers that everyone just..accepts(?!) with no issue but with cas it's seen as some type of anomaly..? claims "the leylines can grant special abilities" but why only cas and mc? why not the oh idk leaders of the covens? or the elders or even just pull a warrior cats "Power of Three" situation and give gabe, cas and mc powers that's because they have a special destiny or are reincarnations or something freaky deaky about them being polyam or being from different covens IDK SOMETHING! and before someone mentions it, i know cas is a more direct witch descendant then the other vamps, but considering we know nothing about her family, if we go with the assumption that cas is last preforming witch since great grandmama constance, that still wouldn't explain why her powers get awoken now? like please for the love of god correct me if i'm forgetting something but the only connection we have is

cas gets cut from the business card, lennox's face morphs (again, odd ability cause cas's powers seem to be exclusively nature related and premonition doesn't seem to match that, unless she has mc's type of premonition from the leylines but that wouldn't make sense either cause mc's manifests in out of body, future seeing, while cas's manifestation is more like actual intention sensing *cough, they should technically switch their ability names cough*, the cut never heals unless cas let's the power out/or is happy and gets worse when she's upset. so when you think of it, there's really nothing that directly correlates with the leylines that connects it. maybe it's because the leylines come from creators and witches are split descendants of vampires so whenever the ley lines are getting fucked with it affects witches too?? idk

a few more unaddressed issues are but not limited too: what beef cas and gabe have in the branding room (i'll get back to that one later), libby having partial memory, (same thing as above), if vampires can sleep, how in the first book G+C can hear us murmuring their names from miles away but we can't hear cas screaming in the woods, having vampire sight but can't straining to see that pile of bones in the dark in the back of the cave etc, WHY LEWYN IS STILL NEVER HELD ACCOUNTABLE FOR KILLING HIS OWN COVEN MEMBERS??

that's my biggest issue with id2, there's so much guess-timating on w/ info and lore that would be fun to theorize or hc in a standalone but in an ongoing series it creates more headaches and others are plain plotholes. i think id would've been more consistent if they spent more time explaining the lore of WHY things are instead of WHAT things are, you know?

now lastly, here are my id3 theories/ hopes:

libby is a witch. that's the only explanation we have for why she acts so odd all book + why her memories are the most intact despite her not doing anything to awaken them like for mc's mom did

gas's beef with each other is explained. i saw someone hc that the reason gas hate each other beyond the typical Clement vs Venandi bs is because they're exes and while i would love the angst of exploring that + it would explain their sudden intrigue (if u choose the poly route end) to possibly get together + it would be so carnally delicious if we have some real slow burn enemies to frienemies to lovers out here but i doubt it. however their beef seems to stem from before mc came into the picture purely because of how gabe talks and treats cas in the first few chapters of book1 and from the branding room scene (my hc/ theory however: in the branding room premium scene, g+c talk briefly about a situation where gabe "was playing the hero", cas was "scaring humans" and as a result got punished likely by branding. my theory is that while as a human, gabe's grandmother was a fluked hunt by cas, with gabe protecting his nan, this sparks sarah to investigate into vampires more which leads to the covens trying to kill her. so gabe hates cas for nearly killing her and consequently getting him turned and cas hates gabe for ruining her hunt / giving her first brand)

gabe getting powers. we know gabe is kinda a literature nerd and can read specific vampire languages that seems like pretty rare ability for a newer turned vamp so maybe that could be his. idk it just feels odd that cas and mc have powers but gabe doesn't (even if reading super well is for NERDS 🙄/j maybe they can make it fun and unique to him)

witches are absolutely the villain of the next book, there's no doubt in my mind but since it seems like witches were playing both sides of the field of vamps v hunters, it's safe to assume we might befriend a teenage witch (possibly libby??) and we have to fight with against evil witches??? 🤷🏾‍♀️

more like point 4.2 but we could also possibly meet cas's family or even parents! while its safe to assume them being dead is what made cas an orphan, its pixelberry and there's a good chance they'd bring out that a random plot twist like with gabriel and lennox being cousins like that out of the blue andddd the heirloom book cas has from her parents looks suspiciously like the grimoire astoria has🤔

multi pov: if id3 is assumingely the last id book, and they're going to keep teasing gas, i would love see that all exclusively from their pov's (ik it's unlikely pb would suddenly change the format of a book at the supposedly end of the series but these books need a new element or it's going to feel like a repeat of the last 2 books)

gas. self explanatory. they need to kiss regardless of which route you choose. idk how or why or when but it needs to happen

these mofo's will graduate human high school. yeah that very forgotten aspect of immortal desires is that it's a TEEN supernatural, so we need to pop in some extra credits or something and graduate since they're all seniors/ "18" (in my hc cas is a super senior and is like 19 when she was turned but anyways)

[bishie-haven]

After-party, Day 1!

Ugh, sorry, scheduling these is a nightmare

Day 2's content has arrived, and our after-party has begun! And I promised a similar, yet different outing to something I did last year, didn’t I?

Well…I’m ranking cards again.

BUT, this is going to be a bit of a change compared to 2023’s outing. Last year, I went with the entirety of Asmo’s card library and focused exclusively on the art that came on the tin. This year, a change is happening. As of writing this on May 16th, 2024, I have 93% of Nightbringer’s demon cards that include the fifth-born, almost the entire set! If you don’t believe me, here’s my Devilgram page of my collection:

With all Nightmare/event cards in my possession, I wanted to focus on something not many do when it comes to these lovely JPEGs: see how well their Devilgram stories hold up and if they’re a good reward for working your butt off in an event or squeezing every last DP or DV out of you for the gacha. I will be going on about the art as well, but I didn’t fully include it in the ranking because…well…I’ll admit it, picking which one I liked best would be like splitting hairs, almost impossible! Each one has its own perks and pros (and I will highlight that), how could a fan possibly choose?

Now unfortunately, I did say I only had 93% of the collection, 14 of 15 cards, to be exact. That sadly means I will not be taking the Chapter 21-40 UR+, Magic Compact, into account for the rankings. I will certainly make an update when the day comes and I get all those shards. Also, if for some reason we get a new card added before the week is up and I can get my hands on it in time, I’ll be doing a similar update as well.

But, enough wasting time!

(Also: Spoilers for EVERY Devilgram story ahead!!)

#14: A Gift for a Special Day (Birthday ‘23 UR)

I don’t really know how to word this…but I think this is the only Asmodeus card that rubs me the wrong way any time I even THINK about it. The entire thing revolves around you and Asmo going out on the town for his birthday, but he puts on this more suave and sophisticated persona in order for you to “see a different side of him”. I see a different side…and it feels absolutely wrong. I’m not saying I hate that he tries to be cool, the MC being escorted around, getting gifted a dinner outfit, and dancing to the slow notes of a piano, but the entire time it feels like I’m on a date with an alien masquerading as the demon. There’s a dialogue choice at the end that states “I miss the normal you”, and it couldn’t be more true. Later you find out through an unlockable chat that he asked Solomon (who later asks Diavolo) for help…channeling the suaveness of Lucifer.

Now I’ve started to grow on Luci more over the years, but even ignoring that he’s on the lower end of my favorites list, the circumstances surrounding the card did NOT help this statement gain any favor. Already following an event where we nearly lost an Asmo event SSR, this card was the result of them shedding the birthday event system for a year, using him as a guinea pig to test the new card gacha system before Luci’s birthday came a few weeks later, AND eliminating the birthday SSR that EVERY OTHER BROTHER (+ Simeon) got before this, the set still being incomplete to this day! It was arguably the lowest point of Solmare’s ignorance of the fifth (and that’s a WHOLE other can of worms I may dive into one day), and the fact they were pretty trying to package the eldest’s charm in the boy who LITERALLY has a charm power will unfortunately taint this card for me.

However, as I said before, the art on the card isn’t bad, quite good, even. Completing the pajama set of ‘22-23, the bare chest with the robe fits the mood (at least in a vacuum), and the celebration in the DF unlock is perfect for what he deserves ^^

#13: Choosing for You (Sleepwear/Halloween ‘23 SSR)

Now outside of that card, there’s elements to every story from this point that I like. This one…really is the definition of mid for me, though. Revolving around you being the model for nightwear Asmo got sent PR packages of to choose what he wears for a collaboration, the air of the story isn’t very eventful, but quite chill. We do get comments about our own ability to look good in any fashion and found out the demon can use photo shoots in his bathroom as peak procrastination, but outside of that it’s mainly banter between what can constitute as good pajamas and just trying to make a damn decision. And with the gift of said nightwear and a tease of a sleepover after the shoot (one of my favorite tropes ever), this story is what I would hand someone if they wanted bare-basic Asmo vibes in a story.

With the art, they managed to show off sleepwear in a bit better way than Birthday ‘23’s. The initial art showing off the multiple choices he has for you, and the DF unlock once again pulling a skin tease, but showing a lot more of his teasing and sensual nature along with it. Now THIS is the demon I know!

#12: Dancing*Cooking (Anniversary ‘24 UR+)

I am so torn on this card. When it comes to the story, it’s one unexpected for this character, but it really does work. Being in the overarching plot of planning a Devildom-wide party with everyone trying new things, Asmo is the caterer/menu planner and shows so much development in the vein of his consideration of others (wanting to take the entire realm into account when you tell him to do what he thinks is best and later including ALL THREE REALMS in the menu to truly let everyone have a taste of home)…I’m shoving this in anyone’s face when they say he only cares about himself. There are some questionable elements (in the form of being in a dance club with a bunch of pouting fish that we need to fawn over in order to effectively marinate their flesh…no I’m not kidding), but overall real cute.

Why I’m torn is because of the missed opportunities! They had good apron/chocolatier sets from Valentine’s ‘23 they could’ve used at least in passing on the models, and while I know there was a theme with the card stories…both the initial and DF unlock involves marching band outfits. As a former band geek and being in a marching band for 7 years, both the elements of that in the event story and the card images are the ultimate tease, why couldn’t you utilize them more?!

#11: The Magic Music Festival (Birthday ‘24 UR)

I know this is the most recent card (as of writing this), and it honestly hurts that this is still so low. It’s honestly not a bad story in a vacuum: you accompany Asmo on a photoshoot for a brand he’s an ambassador for and you use magic cards to choose a location, eventually ending in an unknown town where fairies and magic instruments (hmm…this sounds a bit familiar) give a spark of inspiration. The problem with it all…it’s good for an Asmo card…but not for an Asmo BIRTHDAY card. There’s very little focus on the fact that it’s his special day outside of the brothers pretty much announcing that they’re making a party for him and they want him out of the house, and while the story is nice and the reason it got as high as it did, it doesn’t really fit the situation much when put under a microscope. I know the story in the revamped birthday event kinda takes care of this, but still…

But what they DON’T slack on? The art in this card, DEAR LORD if I was ranking the art this year it would be in the top 5 BARE MINIMUM. I nearly screamed when I seen the DF unlock and I did NOT stop until I had that card in my hands! The detail with the demon form and kimono-style fusion was absolutely PERFECT! And the card-themed initial? Beautiful as well!

#10: Memories and Pale Shades (Seed SSR)

Now, ignoring the fact that we nearly didn’t get this card at ALL until we protested to the devs (again, another can of worms for another day), this card is another fitting of the word mid, but in a bit of a better way compared to Choosing for You. Instead of being in a setting we’re all used to (Asmo and his influencer nonsense), we’re at a traditional festival, wanting to use the petals of a human world cherry blossom tree to make souvenirs of our memories. Although it takes a while to actually MAKE something outside of the assistance of Solomon, it warms the crafter soul within me to spend some time like this with him. It’s very simplistic, but it’s very warm and cozy at the same time.

And the art fits this just perfectly. Each image, whether with a mitsurashi dango or the falling petals, encapsulates the feeling of the festival perfectly, and lets you ignore the circumstances behind the meta.

#9: Asmo, the Recluse?! (Ch. 1-20 UR+)

Getting into one of the four Nightbringer-exclusive cards, while it doesn’t do what the other two I’m going to talk about will, it is definitely an exploration into the Avatar of Lust…and honestly what he COULD have been. The whole plot revolves around you getting Asmo out of the room he’s holed himself in for multiple days so the others can ask about using his bathroom that Satan wrecked until repair. And while I wouldn’t need a reason if I knew he was hiding in his bedroom to try and find him, when you do get in there…what a sight. If there’s people who complain that Asmo is narcissistic and stuck on himself with what we see right now, show them this story. THIS IS WHAT IT COULD HAVE BEEN. Despite having to take multiple attempts to get him away from a perfume he pretty much hypnotized himself with, it’s hilarious and a great laugh away from the deep themes of NB. And even after coming to his senses, we still get an air of his current levels of egotism, still refusing to give bathroom access no matter what reasoning.

Also, this is him the whole time looking at that mirror. Fight me on this.

The art for this? Actually, it’s very similar to what we see in his initial UR in the OG game…and I love it! A shot of him with makeup in the initial, and a classic tub shot in the DF, how adorable!

#8: Asmo-Chan Overindulges (Fabulicious UR)

Geez I hate the name of that event…but aside from that, this story is really wholesome, in a sense of what the events entail. You’re Asmo’s +1 to a party for Devildom models, and from beginning to end we see how it plays out. I really appreciate some of the dialogue choices in this one, having moments of us feeling shy or out of place in a room full of perfection and Asmo every time pulling us back in and making us feel worthy of being by his side. In addition, a Mammon cameo and a montage of him socializing with other model acquaintances really illustrates how well known he is in this sector. But where there is a party, there is Demonus, and not too long after, a tipsy to wasted demon shows us he can make a fashion show anywhere and that he’s the jealous, emotional type when plastered. And with an ending in a private room to sober up and be intimate with each other, this is a comfort story for me, for sure.

The art definitely goes for the dual sides of his presenting self. The initial with him in a suit and looking confident as hell to the DF unlock showing a more flowing dress with an adorable expression? Best of both worlds!

Unfortunately, because of Tumblr’s stupid photo limit, I have to split this into two parts. But, the next one is coming ultra-soon!

[meat4meat]

Whose the Ghoul

and why is it totally not Grimal?

I know this is a lesbian necromancers side blog so I'm gonna tag this accordingly so my followers can filter

Now everyone and their mother has a theory about who the ghoul is and has given their two cents- but I 100% think it's Giles at this point based on the info we have- BUT I don't think he's the one who attacked Occam. I think that was Grimal for her own personal reasons, and Spit is a red herring.

I'll admit my speculations about why she would attack Occam are a bit hand wavy, but I think paired with her means of accessing the archives while he was performing the ritual makes a case worthy of consideration.

For the how- because of the scene where everyone presents their licence we also know the exact level of access everyone has to which areas of the chapter house. As a neophyte Grimal does not have access to the archive or the security room, so how does she end up there on the map? There are several different ways she could have ended up in there.

So, almost immediately after Occam is sealed in the archive Elise cops Giles' shit. Wallet, keys and smokes all in one go. Queen. As a gard, he would have had acess to the security room, and now Elise does since she jacked his whole deal, coldly. So, either grimal got the keys from Elise, sneakily or not, that's one way should could have gotten in. Or Elise did her girl a solid and just let her in.

However, she could have gotten in without Elise's pilfered keys at all. When Kitten talks to Matilda and Amanda, Matilda offers to let him into the security room, and we immediately see that she's smoking the cigs Elise stole from Giles. Grimal could have gotten the smokes from Elise and then traded them for security room acess, just like Matilda offered to Kitten.

And once in the security room.....what? We know from Matilda it's one of the most ventilated rooms, and we know there's a vent in the archive thanks to a bg shot when they go in to draw blood. Given Grimal is one of two people conceivably small enough to pull of snaking through the ducts (the other is Spit, but I'll come back to the later.) It's not that far of a stretch to say she could reach the archives through the ducts.

OK, but fucking why would she do that, especially if she isn't the ghoul?

When she and Kitten argued on the stairs she said she was envious of how Kitten and the others operated without oversight. How stiffled she felt in her research. Neophites have even less acess to parts of the chapter house than maintenance, which for Grimal has got to sting while watching the chucklefucks make big moves on their own. It could be speculated that after seeing something relevant to her research in the archives, something she knows she'd never get permission to interact with, she decided to break into the archive, deal Occam an incapacitating blow from behind while he was performing the ritual to make sure she wasn't identified, and split. The non-lethal blow is also another reason I don't think it was the ghoul that broke in and attacked Occam. Given the level of violence done to Lord Fatigue later on, a much less intimidating target than Occam, I don't think a ghoul would have passed up the chance to take him out.

Speaking of Fatigue, why kill him at all? The only motive I can think of is to steal his archive key. And if the ghoul had attacked Occam, why would they need archive acess a second time? The could have gotten it off Occam's unconscious body, and why go for Fatigue is particular? Of the 4 people with archive acess. He's the least intimidating target, especially to a doped up ghoul. I might be over speculating on this but that point in particular leads me to believe that this ghoul is someone deeply insecure in their abilities as a combatant, which for me rules out all of the competent fighters, including Grimal.

Wow, a whole mountain of speculation on who I think it isnt- so why do I believe it's Giles?

My theory hinges on a peice of information casually dropped by Kevin during his interrogation about his sire. The way he describes the dynamic between his sire and her own sire is very similar to the one displayed by the 99p store manager and the woman she speaks to on the phone. Not to mention when she mentions that D called himself Kevin she calls it a coincidence. It's super strongly implied that She's Kevin's sire and the woman she's speaking with is the high-ranking Tremere in Yarmoth that Kevin described.

And She's managing a 99p store! That Giles works at!

If that's the case it's a direct connection between Giles and the Tremere, and it would explain how Kevin knew of the mole in the chapter house.

If it is him it would make sense why he wouldn't have been able to attack Occam, and why he would have needed to go after Fatigue for his archive key. If Occam's attacker had gone through the vents then it just couldn't have been him. He's not only too big to get through them, but he'd lost his keys to the security room with vent access before the attack. He'd need to go after another one of the elders to get it.

OK yeah Spit is also a security guard who is skinny enough to get in the vents and has been tweaking out basically the whole ep and he was the one in the room when Fatigue was murdered (unless his body just did that, but what are the odds?) , but I don't think it's him just because the evidence for others is so much stronger. Giles has the direct connection to the clan that placed the mole, and Grimal was placed at the security room. I personally buy more into the werewolf theory for Spit that I've seen others toss around.

Anyways it's 100% Giles.

[ilikeyoualive]

Chapter 15 snippet for y'all since it's been sitting in my docs for a while and I thought I'd share what I had written already instead of letting it collect dust. And, if anyone is interested in exploring this AU more, check out my Main Masterlist!

Warnings: Blood and Injury, Angst, Mentioned Cannibalism, Missions Gone Wrong

Word Count: 644

Read Snippet Under The Cut:

Rule #15: Don't Hurt Said Emotional Support Human. You Will Fucking Die.

Something squishy yet cold as ice laved over the split skin on his throat and, if Soap weren't mistaken, he would swear that it was a tongue. His brows twitched in growing discomfort at the confusing sensation of that cold tongue touching his feverish skin, each rasp of it over the wound bringing a bright shock of pain as the split and raw skin was repeatedly agitated.

His foggy brain tried to puzzle together why his neck was wounded in the first place, but he didn't have time to linger on it because suddenly the tongue stilled and several sharp somethings pricked the skin of his throat. He belatedly realized with a dawning sense to dread that those were fucking sharp ass teeth closing on his neck, his memories of the last several hours hitting him like a brick to the face.

The looming and very real threat of getting his throat ripped out had Soap's eyes abruptly snapping open as his hand simultaneously shot up to the back of Ghost's head, numb fingers seizing a fistful of the sniper's balaclava and probably even some hair in the process. He didn't make any effort to pull Ghost away with his trembling grip since it would be a useless endeavor anyway, opting to let his warm touch be a reminder that he was still alive.

"G'st," He slurred, clearing his throat with a grimace as if that would somehow help him cobble together the words needed to talk Ghost out of taking a bite, his head lazily lolling toward the sniper's own bowed head until his cheek rested against Ghost's temple. "Dinnae eat me till mah heart stops beatin'." He murmured, blinking rapidly until the hull stopped spinning around him in a nauseating fashion, exhaling sharply in relief once he was reasonably sure that he wasn't about to throw up.

"Johnny."

It was just one word, barely a whisper against his throat, but there was so much packed into that stupid little nickname that he had grown so fond of hearing from those scarred lips that he felt breathless.

"Donnae dare eat me 'til they call it, ye hear me?" Soap grunted, fighting to stay awake even as his vision began to blur dizzyingly. But he couldn't pass out yet, not until Ghost promised not to take a chunk out of him while he was unconscious. "Simon, please." He begged when the silence stretched on, his grip on Ghost's balaclava starting to go slack as darkness crept in from the edges of his eyes.

"I swear I'll wait til your body is stiff an’ cold." Ghost sounded utterly gutted when he finally spoke, his voice wobbly and hoarse in a way that Soap would find extremely alarming had the last of his lucidity not chosen that exact moment to slip through his fingers like sand.

When awareness returned to Soap only a handful of minutes later, he found that there were several unfamiliar hands on his person. And, when he made a low sound of distress in the wake of this troubling realization, it was immediately echoed by a familiar and hair-raising growl that reverberated through the hull like rolling thunder, those unwelcome hands flinching away from him.

Ghost was half turned away in a crouch, his mask sloppily shoved up to the bridge of his sharp roman nose, presumably to free up his mouth for the whopping four fingers that he currently had stuffed in it. His pink tongue poking out between the digits as he messily licked at them before his pale, scarred lips closed around them and he began to audibly suck the sticky coating of blood off of his fingers, gasping like a man starved as he hunched in on himself even further with a full body quake that looked more despairing than pleasured.