#i kind of. did not Actively feel the 'disappointment' thing partially because well

[simonstamenovic]

Gah okay I hope I can maybe sleep soon but I don't know. you do not need to read these tags is it a lot.

[bunnysuit-femboy]

Slumber Party

Pairing: Sasha x Reader

Word Count: 5.8k

Warnings: Implied Praise Kink, Cunnilingus

Quick Summary: Sleepover with Sasha turns sexual.

Notes: This was inspired by the song Slumber Party by Ashnikko, I hope you guys enjoy!

6:13 PM

Your feet ran down the stairs quicker than you could keep up with after you heard the familiar ding of the doorbell. You ran through your living room, and right to the front door. You knew who waited on the other side - since she waited there every Friday night - but you were still filled with excitement at finally seeing her again.

Once you had unlocked the door handle, you swung the door open immediately, taking no time to think about what you were doing. Light flooded in from the outside, the sun setting in the distance and Sasha’s shadow laid on the living room’s carpeted floor.

Sasha stood in front of you with her duffel bag over one shoulder and her phone in the opposite hand. She wore jean shorts - since today had been one of the hottest days all summer - and a grey tank top. She also wore a pair of flip flops with a bright blue anklet around her pale ankle.

Sasha glanced up from the messages open on her phone, “Hi.”

You smiled wide at your best friend, “Hi.” Sasha quickly locked her phone and dropped her bag, opening her arms wide for you and you walked forward to accept the hug. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too. We haven’t seen each other in like-” Sasha took a second to think about her next words- “Two days?”

“Three,” You said against her shoulder, “If you don’t count our FaceTime calls.”

“Right,” Sasha said into your hair, “‘Cause if we were counting those, I saw you two hours ago.”

You took a step back from Sasha, “Well, I needed somebody to tell me my makeup was pretty.”

“That’s not fair.” Sasha grinned. “You always look pretty.”

You playfully pushed Sasha’s shoulder, trying to distract her from seeing your obviously embarrassed face. Your face and ears were heating up with blood and you couldn’t wipe the wide smile from your mouth. You didn’t want your best friend to see how physically embarrassed you got from hearing her compliment you; you refused to give her the satisfaction of seeing how high you hold her opinion.

It wasn’t strange to hear Sasha compliment you - in fact, it would have been weirder if she hadn’t complimented you - but hearing Sasha say a sweet word about your person always made you crawl back into your metaphorical hermit shell. You never knew how to respond to Sasha’s kind words about your appearance because they always felt genuine instead of a way of being generally nice.

“I was thinking we could order pizza later,” You said, “And I have ice cream in the freezer and I made sure to buy some soda for you-”

“Did you remember my favorite kind?” Sasha’s face was taken up mostly with a wide smile as she awaited your answer.

“Of course.” You grinned softly to the brown haired girl in front of you. “I always remember everything you tell me.”

Sasha giggled before taking your distance from the door as a way of entrance. She walked inside the apartment she’s been to a million times. But, this time felt different almost - as if she could feel the impending series of events for the next day and a half playing out in front of her already.

8:47 PM

“Well,” You said as your hips shifted closer to her hips, “If you stop squirming, then it won’t be so hard to get the eyeliner just right. Got it?”

Sasha furrowed her already filled eyebrows at you, “But, I have a cramp in my hip. I can’t not shift when all I’m feeling on my left side is pure pain.”

It wasn’t completely a lie, Sasha was in pain but not exactly how she had disclosed to you. Sasha could feel her stomach inflating with nerves the longer you leaned in to be so close to her. She was used to you deciding to do activities in the spur of a moment, but she wasn’t expecting you to beg her to let you do her makeup if she showed you that picture - she wasn’t really sure why you chose this way to do her makeup either.

Usually, when a person gets their makeup done, the makeup artist will be sitting right beside them, leaning in close and getting everything just right. Which is not at all what you’re doing at the moment, you’re leaning in close - sure, but that’s where the similarities in the two scenarios end.

You were sitting on Sasha’s hips atop of the neat covers of your bed. You were straddling her waist and pressing yourself deeper into her pelvis with each concentrated movement. She knows her hip doesn’t hurt as badly as she says - in fact, she could sit underneath you all day long if you’d have her - but, she feels her stomach flutter with butterflies the longer you’re on top of her, and she wishes she could touch you but she doesn’t know if the action will make you uncomfortable or not, so she doesn’t.

You sigh before picking up your hips from her hips, “I’ll move but I’m not finished with your makeup.”

“Huh?” Sasha asks with bright red cheeks and widened eyes. She thought complaining about her hip would surely make you scram but you almost seem determined to stay on top of her.

“Here.” You lifted your hips enough so that her’s could be free underneath you. You still straddled her sides, but now you situated your ass into the air and your shirt had shifted forward. Sasha wasn’t sure how it was possible, but she knew the situation had gotten worse - or maybe, better - for her. All she wanted now was either to look down your shirt, place her hands on your ass and grind you down into her or kiss you passionately from underneath you - but, she didn’t know how you’d feel about any of those options so she stays still in silent agony.

She closed her eyes when you asked, she blinked slowly when you asked, and she puckered her lips when you asked. And, even though she couldn’t do what she wanted to do, she still got a bit of pleasure every time she did as you asked. You’d make sure to tell her exactly how you felt about her submission, whispering praise into the space between your faces - each praise giving Sasha another thing to worry about between her hips.

11:24 PM

The blanket kept falling off of your shoulder, exposing the bare skin to the coldness of your living room. You snuggled your body in closer to Sasha, pressing the cold skin of your shoulder against her warm bicep. She leaned into your touch, gently laying her head on top of your own in order to trap your cheek to her body.

You could fall asleep where you sat, cuddled close to your best friend and barely listening to the distant sounds of the movie in front of you. The coldness of the room was working as melatonin to your already tired body. Your eyes fluttered closed, snapping open every few minutes once your mind realized you were starting to drift off.

“This is the best part,” Sasha suddenly said by your side. You nodded weakly against her arm which got Sasha’s attention. She glanced at you for a moment, watching you from the corner of her eyes. “Are you even watching?”

Sasha looked over to your partially open eyes looking up into her face through your thick eyelashes. You swallowed back the sleepiness that had crept so steadily upon you as you attempted to look awake. But, Sasha saw right through your poor facade, shaking your head from her shoulder with disappointment.

“You’re asleep!” Sasha turned to you, her eyes wide with shock. “But, this is the best part!”

“I’m sorry,” You groaned the words out, “I’m just so tired.”

Sasha pouted at you, “Do you not like the movie?”

“No.” Adrenaline shot through your body as you attempted to convince your best friend. “I- I really like this movie! I just need a cup of coffee or something! The movie’s really good, I swear.”

Sasha took a deep breath, “It’s too late for coffee.” Your eyes darted behind Sasha’s shoulder at the living room window. She was right, the moon was high in the sky and only darkness seeped in through the glass behind the curtains. Sasha's next words came out as a question, “But, it’s not too late for ice cream.”

Your eyes snapped back to Sasha’s filled with sudden excitement, “I do have ice cream.”

Sasha smiled wide, “Perfect!” She leaned over and grabbed the remote from the coffee table, swiftly pausing the movie.

You led Sasha from the living room and to the kitchen, and you could feel her eyes on your back as you walked. It was hard not to look at you, especially in the pieces of clothing you wore as pajamas. You walked around your apartment in a velvet pair of sleep shorts and a tank top that stopped right above your belly button, creating a stripe of soft skin between the hem of your shirt and the waist of your shorts.

You didn’t leave your apartment most nights, either by yourself or with Sasha. You preferred dressing scandalously to bed and cuddling deep into your blanket to keep your body warm. And, when Sasha slept over, you instead used each other’s body heat to keep warm during the night, snuggling close to each other under your thick blanket.

You felt Sasha’s gaze heavy on the skin of your back and then again as it moved to your hips and ass. She watched as your sides moved back and forth with each step. She stared mindlessly at the dimples that swayed on the small of your back.

You turned around to Sasha once you stood in the middle of the kitchen. Sasha’s gaze slowly found your face, instead running gently over the front of your body. Then, finally, Sasha’s light brown eyes stared into your own.

You looked away from Sasha’s peering eyes. Sometimes holding eye contact with her was too much for you, it all felt much too intense and overwhelming. Holding eye contact with her made your stomach turn with butterflies and made your mind go wild with random thoughts that you tried to ignore most days. Thoughts of something big happening, whether it be a long awaited simple kiss or an asteroid through the room you both sat in.

You instead stared at the tiled floor of the kitchen as she watched you, “I have rocky road and metropolitan.” You glanced back at Sasha to see her smiling at you. You furrowed your eyebrows at your best friend, trying to keep your body from feeling like static. “And sprinkles.”

Sasha grinned, “I’ll have some rocky road-” After you had turned around and walked off towards the fridge, Sasha added- “Oh, and with sprinkles on top.”

You grinned into the freezer, your skin erupting in goosebumps from the wandering cold air. You grabbed the two cartons of ice cream, placing them on the counter beside the fridge before walking towards the lazy Susan in which the sprinkles were.

You turned from the corner of the kitchen, now realizing the new obstacle in your way of the sprinkles. Sasha had found her normal spot in the kitchen, sitting on the counter above the lazy Susan. Her feet dangled in front of the cabinet, and her eyes watched you as you walked around the kitchen with a purpose.

You walked over to Sasha, grinning at her before glancing at the cabinet she sat in front of. You were hoping your best friend would get the message without you having to ask because you weren’t sure how to ask for permission between her legs without seemingly asking for everything you’ve ever wanted.

“Sash’,” You said sweetly, “Can I-?” You pointed at the lazy Susan, silently asking her the rest of the question.

All she did in response to your question was tilt her head and grin playfully. She seemed to be playing a game - and it made your heart skip a beat - but you weren’t completely sure if she was. You were crazily rash sometimes, but when it came to friendship, you wouldn’t take a risk unless it was a heavily calculated move.

“What’s up?” Sasha asked innocently.

You grinned, “I need in that cabinet-” Sasha glanced down at the cabinet and then back at you, all without moving her body. “The sprinkles are in there. I need between your legs.”

Oh shit, there it is, the words you didn’t want to have to say. You couldn’t help how uncomfortably hot your body got after saying them, shifting from one leg to the other as if that would cool yourself down. And, you wished you hadn’t seen Sasha’s sudden surprise at the request, her eyes widened and her mouth in a permanent smile.

“Oh,” Sasha said with a tone dripping with cockiness, “You need between my legs? Then, what’s the password?”

You stared at Sasha with squinted eyes, “You have a password for between your legs? Are you wearing a chastity belt or something?”

“I guess that’s the only thing that would make sense.” Sasha giggled before raising a single eyebrow at you. “But, what’s the password?”

“You were serious?” Sasha nodded before you started thinking about what this mysterious password could be. “Is it 0-7-2-6-0-1?”

Sasha raised her eyebrows, “Huh?”

“Is it the same as your phone password?”

Sasha grinned, “Oh-” Sasha looked around the kitchen for a few moments before finally answering. “No.”

You sighed and thought again about what Sasha could make as a spur of the moment password. Obviously she didn’t have a leg password before this moment, so it had to be something she made up on the spot. And, a lot was on the line for you knowing this vital part of information - not only would it prove how deeply you knew Sasha, but the damn ice cream was starting to melt.

“Okay,” You said as you crossed your arms against your chest. “I’m going to spitball some out, and you tell me if I get it right, okay?”

Sasha nodded, “Alright, deal.”

This game was harder than you originally thought it would be, maybe you didn’t know Sasha at all. You thought you’d be able to guess it almost immediately, you thought you knew nearly everything about the other girl. But, she must have the most obscure leg password ever, you wouldn’t be surprised if it were in a different language altogether.

“French fries,” Sasha shook her head. “Hamburgers,” Shake. “Sausage,” Shake. “Pork,” Shake. “Milkshake.” Shake. “Is it-?”

“Why are you only guessing menu items from a diner? I like other things, you know?”

You shrugged, “I know, you just really like diner food.”

She likes other things, huh? Sure, she likes food - more than anyone you’ve ever seen in your whole life. But, it must be something outside of food, what else does Sasha like?

She likes cats, and she likes hunting and fishing with her dad, and she likes roller coaster rides that go backwards. She likes a vast array of things, so to choose just one she would think of in the matter of a few seconds seemed almost impossible.

Except, there was one thing you knew she liked more than any of those other things. She talked about it all the time, from conversations that were progressively led to the subject to randomly texting you another fact long past the time you had gone to bed and she should have gone to bed as well. She talked about it almost all of the time, how could you forget?

It was alcohol, it had to be alcohol related!

So, you thought of anything under the category, anything at all. You thought of vodkas, and rums, and whiskies - but you know she prefers mixed drinks so you switched to those names. You couldn’t think of many drinks that would make sense as her password, except for maybe strawberry daiquiri - though, that one didn’t seem to be right.

In a second, you thought of the one drink she always asks for. She asks for them no matter who the bartender is, whether it’s Jean or Connie that week. She asks for them when she sees your bottle of peach liquor sitting on the floor of your closet. She even asks if you think a place will have them when you walk past a bar you can’t get into yet since you’re both underaged. It was the only drink that completely made sense for it to be her legs' password, she loved them too much.

In a moment of adrenaline pumping through your veins at the realization of what the password must be, you screamed the drink name louder than you needed to.

“Sex on my face!” You yelled, your body going hot with the realization of what you just shouted at your best friend.

Sasha raised her eyebrows at you, “You want me to what?”

You tried to laugh off the embarrassment, but it didn’t work properly. You instead decided to smile into your hands as you covered your face. This moment wouldn’t have been embarrassing if it were anybody else, there was just too much sexual tension between you and Sasha for this conversation to be normal.

“That’s my next guess, I’m guessing the password is sex on my face.” You took a deep breath between your palms, embarrassment finally settling in and even beginning to fade the longer you didn’t think about what happened.

“It’s not,” Sasha said with a grin. “But, it was a good guess, so go ahead.”

You nodded as Sasha jumped from the counter, allowing you access to the lazy Susan. You made the adventure quick, not wanting to dwell on what you said in order to be allowed to grab the sprinkles. It was even embarrassing to feel Sasha’s eyes on your body as you crouched over and into the cabinet, something that otherwise wouldn’t have openly bothered you much.

“Do you want to know my real password?” Sasha asked as you scooped the half-melted ice cream into a bowl. You nodded, not wanting to say much of anything after what happened. “My real password was peanuts, because you have peanuts on the counter.”

You glanced at the bag of peanuts near the sink and then back to the bowl. “I guess I shouldn’t have put much thought into it, since it took you a second to even think about it.”

“You were smart with the game,” Sasha admitted, “You thought of passwords I wouldn’t have thought of in a million years, but not smart enough, I guess-” There was a moment where the only thing that could be heard was the buzzing coming from the working fridge. “Even though I do love sex on my face - take that however you want to.”

You felt your body heat up again, even as Sasha walked away from beside you. Take that however you want to. Oh my god, was Sasha hitting on you?

2:22 AM

If you moved your foot just an inch to the right, you’d be able to feel Sasha’s shin. You almost wanted to move your foot forward and finally touch her. You wanted to scoot your body across your sheets, to feel her body close to yours and feel your skin ignite with a new passion you hadn’t let out in a very long time.

You opened your eyes to see Sasha’s brown eyes staring into your own. You grinned at the girl, feeling like speaking was the only way to eliminate the awkward tension now present in the air. Part of you wished her eyes hadn’t been open, you were okay with watching her in silence - something about her knowing you liked looking at her made your stomach turn with nerves.

“Hey,” You whispered into your partially dark bedroom, “Are you tired?”

Sasha shook her head against the pillow, smushing her cheek even deeper into the plushness, “Not even a little bit. How about you?”

You sighed, “Nope.”

The silence was back, but it wasn’t awkward like the last time - this was a new comfortable silence. In the moment, all you could do was watch Sasha and all she could do was watch you right back.

You wondered what the brown haired girl was thinking about. Your first assumption was food considering the girl’s eating habits, but after a second thought - you knew better than to guess that. You then assumed that maybe the girl was thinking of you.

Sasha was probably tossing and turning the idea of you in her head, or at least you hoped she was. You hoped she was thinking about the way you look right now with the moon shining in through the window behind you. And, you hoped she thought about how warm you felt on the couch, pressed up against her earlier. And, you hoped she thought about how warm you would feel underneath her, completely naked and-

Not now. You closed your eyes to hide the thoughts in your head, and you hoped covering your irises would keep Sasha from knowing what you were thinking about. Now wasn’t the time to think about your best friend that way, not when the option was so possible.

“Hey,” Sasha whispered into the quiet space between you, “What kind of car would you be, if you had to be one?”

You opened one of your eyes, “What?”

“You heard me.” Sasha grinned as she watched you think of the few types of cars you could actually name off of the top of your head. “I think I’d be a pickup truck-” Sasha ignored your loud snort- “Because I’m tall, kind of. And, I like carrying things, I don’t really know why - I guess I like being helpful. And, my dad’s got a farm, so it’s perfect.”

You smiled wide at Sasha, “Do you want to try again and maybe pick any other car on the planet?”

“What’s wrong with pickup trucks?” Sasha tucked a fallen strand of hair behind her ear. “Pickup trucks are cool, right?”

“Oh, yeah,” You said sarcastically.

Sasha playfully pushed at your shoulder, “Alright, if I have to choose a different type of car, then I guess I’d be a-” Sasha took a second to think- “A tractor.”

“Shut up,” You spoke through a loud fit of laughter.

“I’m serious.” Sasha giggled with you. “I’d either be a pickup truck or a tractor - I mean it.”

“One,” You said with a grin, “Tractors aren’t even considered cars. And, two, no you wouldn’t be a tractor because they are loud and dirty and-” You shrugged- “Actually, that kind of works for you.”

“Hey!” Sasha's voice had gone up a few octaves for that one word. She pushed at your shoulder again, this time her hand lingering on your body.

You giggled, “You’re the one who said it, Sash’, I was only repeating it.” Sasha grinned at you, her hand still on your shoulder and now making its way down your bicep. “And, I think I’d be a mustang. One, I’m sleek and luxurious. And two, I like to go fast.”

“Really?” Sasha’s fingers drew invisible circles above your elbow. Her fingers were slender and warm and the circles were drawn in a smooth and consistent motion. “Could you have picked a more cliché type of car?”

You wrinkled your nose at the girl, “At least I chose a car.”

The room grew quiet again, but the silence was different from the last two times - neither awkward nor comfortable. Instead, the silence was full, like there were so many words being spoken into the space around you. The darkness of the room told each other your deepest, darkest secrets and part of you knew Sasha could hear your every thought that kept you awake at night.

She could hear what you thought about before eventually falling asleep. She could hear your mental grocery lists about the things you needed to pick up the next evening. And, she heard your mental relivings of memories you only thought about when nobody could see the pain written across your face. And, she heard the feelings you had bottled up for so long - feelings all about how badly you wanted to feel her hands all over your body.

And, what was so wrong with wanting your best friend on top of you, honestly? Everybody felt this way at least once in their lives. And, what was so wrong with finally going for it? Every single sexual or romantic relationship started with one of the people taking a chance, and it seemed you just had to be that person.

“Sasha,” You whispered into the dark space between both of your faces.

“Mhm,” Sasha mumbled back, her hand finally reaching your wrist.

You took a deep breath, “Do you ever think of me at night?”

Sasha grinned, “All of the time - why do you ask?”

Sasha’s fingers now found your palm, the tickling motion causing your own fingers to jump. Her hand was so warm against your hand, and you didn’t want her to stop touching you. You would prefer if she touched you all over your body, but you were willing to settle with just holding her hand in the darkness, if that’s all she wanted.

“Because,” You said with a smile, “I think about you too - at night, during the day, in the mornings, in my dreams - all of the time, like you said.”

Sasha’s fingers intertwined with your fingers, her palm resting gently against your own. Sasha didn’t need to say anything for you to suddenly hear her thoughts. She must have felt the same way considering her hand stayed against your own even when she leaned in to kiss you.

Sasha’s mouth was soft, and you could taste the ghost of her strawberry chapstick still on her lips. Her mouth moved gently at first, metaphorically testing the waters before diving in. Her kisses were merely innocent pecks for a moment, until she leaned back and whispered to your mouth.

“Was that what you think about all the time?” Sasha’s breath fanned across your face with her words.

You grinned to yourself, “I’ve thought about much more than just that.”

Sasha’s lips were back on yours, her mouth making up for wasted time. You had felt this way about her for as long as you’ve been her friend, and for just as long, she’s felt the exact same way. And finally, months longer than you’d have liked, Sasha is actually kissing you.

Sasha removes her hand from yours and instead brings them to your sides. She feels her way up your hips and ribs, her fingers gently tickling the skin she touches. Her fingertips play with the hem of your shirt and the waist of your shorts, teasing you with the idea of her removing your clothes from your body.

You moved your arms around her neck and brought her face closer to yours. Her tongue was warm when it swooped into your mouth, licking across the roof of your mouth in one swift movement. Her tongue was so warm and arousing in fact that she drew a soft gasp from your mouth which only encouraged her further.

Sasha’s hands found your hips just before you rolled up on your knee, now straddling her lap. You were in the same position as earlier, sitting gently on her hips as you lean downward towards her face. But, instead of carefully applying eyeliner to her eyelids, you now kissed Sasha so roughly that your front teeth chattered against her front teeth.

Sasha ran her hands over your hips and ass, touching the places she had wanted to, but didn’t, touch earlier. Her fingers moved gently against your thighs, digging her nails into the plush skin. Her hands pressed onward, hellbent on finding their ways under the bottoms of your sleep shorts.

You let out a short gasp when you felt Sasha’s smooth fingers find the soft fabric of your panties. She grinned once she felt your surprise and whispered into your mouth.

“Did I shock you?” Sasha asked with a smile, “Did you expect me not to touch you when you’re on top of me like this?”

You breathlessly mumbled against her mouth, “‘Guess I didn’t expect you to be so determined.”

“Let me show you just how determined I am.”

Sasha pulled on the bottom of your shirt and you raised your arms, letting her remove the fabric from your body. Sasha throws the shirt to the ground, taking in the new sight in front of her - you sitting on top of her in only your sleep shorts and panties. Sasha had seen you in a bikini and even in your bra plenty of times but nothing could have prepared her for how beautiful with a bare chest.

You leaned down and pecked Sasha before your mouth traveled past her mouth and down her body. You kissed her jaw, the side of her neck, and behind her ear. The kisses that you left on Sasha’s skin tickled her body, causing her to let out breathy pants and soft giggles from between her lips.

Sasha arched her back towards you before suddenly switching positions with you. She pushed you onto the bed beside her, your back now against the comforter you were formerly lying underneath. Sasha sat above you, leaning back on her calves on the right side of your legs.

Sasha quickly pulled her shirt from her body, throwing it thoughtlessly to the ground. You reached towards her, placing your hands gently against the smooth skin of her stomach. Your fingers slowly made their ways up her ribs and to her chest, letting your fingertips rub gentle shapes into the sensitive skin of her tits.

Sasha bent down towards you, pressing her lips to yours as your hands continued to palm her. Sasha moaned into your mouth in between kisses, feeling herself growing hotter with every second your hands were on her. Sasha moved an inch back from your lips, whispering heavily into your mouth.

“Can I taste you?” Sasha came back in for another kiss.

You nodded against her face, “Yes, please.”

Sasha moved back onto her calves, smiling down at you for a second before moving her hands to the waist of your shorts. She pulled your sleep shorts down your thighs and legs, shoving them off of the bed and out of the way.

Sasha moved in between your legs, wrapping her hands around your body before leaning down. She spread a kissing trail from your navel down to the waistband of your panties. And once she reached your panties, she looked up at you - silently asking for permission to proceed.

“Please.” That one word came out in a desperate squeak.

Sasha giggled into your body, “‘You really that excited for me?”

Sasha slowly pulled your panties down your legs, tossing them to the floor as well. You felt the heartbeat between your legs pound as Sasha kissed slowly down your leg: a peck to your ankle, to your calf, to the side of your knee, to the inside of your thigh and finally to the most sensitive skin right beside her destination.

A loud moan erupted from your mouth when Sasha’s mouth found the place you needed her most. Her tongue licked against the slick that had collected in the area, drinking it into her mouth which only caused you to create more. Sasha’s mouth moved expertly between your legs, her tongue moving itself in and out and around your entrance.

You arched your back into the air as Sasha’s hands moved from your back to your ass and hips. She moved her fingers against your hips bones, squeezing the skin and pulling your body closer to her mouth until your thighs were practically suffocating her. But, Sasha didn’t stop, the possibility of death only encouraged her further - Sasha supposed if she had to die anywhere, she’d prefer to die between your thighs and tongue deep in your pussy.

Deep within your folds, Sasha used her tongue to write the same thing over and over again. Silently communicating with you through her movements, and even marking the area as her own. S-A-S-H-A, her tongue spelled out her name for you, each time driving you closer and closer to your orgasm, S-A-S-H-A.

You felt your legs shake on either side of Sasha’s face, your whole body jumping with arousal. You pushed your fingers into Sasha’s hair, fisting the strands into your palm in an attempt to alleviate the pressure growing in your stomach. Sasha moaned into your pussy, aroused by the idea of just how much pleasure she was giving you.

The growing pressure in your stomach started spreading to your entire body, causing your hips to buck forward from your impending orgasm. You pushed Sasha’s face deeper into your body, silently influencing her to continue exactly what she was doing. All it took was one more swoop of her tongue and you were unraveling into her mouth.

Sasha licked up every single drop of wetness, slowly bringing you back down from your high. Sasha sat up from between your legs, looking at you from where she sat on her calves. She grinned at you, her chin and cheeks drenched in what remained of your orgasm.

“So,” Sasha said with a large smile, “How was that?”

You giggled breathlessly into your hands, suddenly feeling the need to cover your face. All you could remember was just how loud you got while she was between your legs, the room echoed with the sounds of every moan that came from between your lips. You felt embarrassed by just how much you enjoyed Sasha’s tongue because what if she now knew how much you like her?

Sasha’s hands gently removed your palms from your face. You looked intently into her eyes and cursed just how deeply the other girl knew you. She’s your best friend and a good one at that, of course she can read the embarrassment written so obviously across your face.

“Hey,” Sasha said delicately, “There’s nothing to be embarrassed about, babe. I enjoyed it just as much as you did.”

You sighed, “How about I give you something to enjoy? Wanna’ let me return the favor?”

“Oh?” Sasha raised a single eyebrow at you. “Hell yeah.”

You pushed Sasha into the bed the same way she had to you. You placed your thigh between her legs, pressing down into her before giving her a passionate kiss. Sasha groaned against your lips which only encouraged you to give her just as much pleasure she gave you. You stayed up all night with her, your lips against her lips and your thigh between her legs as you drank down every moan she gave you until the sun eventually came up on the other side of your bedroom window.

[beggingwolf]

hi so I've just eaten too much ice cream, feel vaguely ill, and I'm here to tell you All About How I Failed At Outlining for SGKF this year!

that's partially just a fun tagline, but it's also a bit true. I told my friends I'd be trying to use several different outlining methods to try and knock out a plotty piece for the fest, and things did not go to plan!

important to begin with: I am what is referred to as a "pantser." I tend to just start writing. this is strangely contradictory to my personality, which deeply loves plans. unfortunately, what often happens is plans and outlines ruin my excitement and drive while working on a project (it tricks me into thinking I've done all the work and resolved the plot), leading me to abandon it.

and though I can throw together pretty words and made a decent fic, my fics never turned out as good as they could have been. I kept telling myself that if I planned in advanced and worked out what I was doing BEFORE I did it, I'd be able to craft a fic with such care and attention as to make it really SHINE.

so, uh, kinkfest rolls around, and since I was a mod I could see all the prompts before they even got released to the public, so I basically had a WHOLE EXTRA two-ish weeks to start planning and writing.

did I? NO.

so, despite the fact that I collect writing advice like a magpie , I'm not the greatest at implementing it. if you go into my SGKF google folder, you'll find a few instances of me TRYING to implement writing advice like metawriting:

(and you'll see some fics that didn't get finished/make it into the fest!)

my issue was (and still is) that I think I value every little word too much. this is a bad thing: I'm an overwriter by nature. when I get words down, I want to keep them because I feel like I worked hard for them, even if they're not great or don't actually serve the story in the way they should. that's not to say all my metawriting was bad; it wasn't. I tried it out for A Drowning in California as well [which will henceforth just be referred to as "California").

I had a whole subfolder for California. what kind of amazed me is how different my initial notes for the prompt are from what the story actually ended up being. here, take a look:

literally almost none of this is in california. the WWE and UFC stuff made it in, and so did sid wrestling with horny, but that was it. I was going to start this fic in the locker room, with sid wrestling someone, and it was seriously going to be a story about sex—about sid wanting to hold geno down in bed. that was the premise.

and instead, we got a really emotional story about familial rejection and the isolation it can make people feel. SO! something happened along the way, right?

when I started getting into the plot that would support this supposed sexfest, this is where I went at first:

geno wants the relationship to get serious, sid is like mentally still a 12 year old who just wants to wrestle people and doesn't want to talk about his emotions, and prefers to use physicality to communicate. this doesn't work for geno, who wants ... more

we can start to see the actual emotions come through, the things I was interested in: sid using touch to talk, and geno desperately wanting more

what did the most good for me, in the end, was "doing" the metawriting by talking with my friends.

I told them what i thought this story was about ("I'm thinking about making this a story about relationship-defining, maybe? and the communication needed for a lasting adult relationship? I think I'm going to set it in california/LA, where Sid has invited Geno along for the first time for his California Summer Fun/Training/Escape, whatever, and Geno's going to be emotionally preoccupied with Defining The Relationship—maybe they've been on-again-off-again? maybe they're just new to this, like almost a year deep, and they're not getting younger—and thinking this trip is about that [or hoping this trip is about that, and realizing it isn't, and being disappointed].") and they told me what jumped out at them.

Jes told me what would ramp up the tension would be a deadline of some sort; "Geno’s going to break up with Sid or make some decision or something, or there’s something approaching where they have to make a will they or won’t they decision of some kind related to the core ‘defining the relationship’ issue. Geno’s going back to russia and in previous summers they’ve always slept with other people while apart? or Sid has a wedding coming up and he’s offhandedly mentioned taking someone else as his plus one?"

I liked her thoughts. it made sense to add an external pressure to all this, and that wedding idea stuck out to me the most.

Lis said I should add a jealousy angle, so you can largely credit her for the club scene: "one thing i like to sort of headcanon/imply about sid's california trips is he uses them to hook up anonymously. so you could have, like, sid and geno seeing sid's friends, but also accidentally running into some of sid's friends. and geno's like oh, great, so here i am doing this horrible summertime training that i hate because i don't need to train in the offseason actually, and i'm learning what exactly sid gets up to when we're apart."

My magical solution these days is GOING FOR WALKS. do it if you're able. it clears out your brain. so on my walks I ended up deciding that I wanted a taylor crosby wedding. I like taylor as a character, and as a person with sisters I just like writing her in. best of all, she and sid are close and I like writing "I'd do anything for my family" sid.

and then I was like. oh. what if it's not that sid is afraid/nervous to bring geno, it's that he can't.

I... wasn't as conflicted as I thought I'd be about writing sid's parents as homophobic. I prefer to write them as supportive; I think troy crosby's been eviscerated more than he should have been in older fanworks, and though I respect their right to make fictional!troy whatever they want, I've been a little skeptical of outlandish takes on him ("he doesn't say I love you to his son because a camera caught them mid-interaction once!") ever since I read how the media has found him a convenient narrative villain while he tried to keep his underage son safe from the media as a child and while they needed to cook up Spicy Stories about squeaky-clean sid.

uh, tangent aside, I always thought I'd never write a "parents are the villains" story, but I did here. it felt right. it was easier, too, because they're not PRESENT in the story. I didn't have to write trina actually being horrible to her son. I just had to skirt the edges of the wound.

which works well on two fronts: I don't have to actively write the crosbys being horrible to sid, and I also leave more to the imagination of the reader, and that almost never fails to make the work better. whatever the reader imagines them saying to sid, it's going to be 10x more hurtful than anything I'd write.

I dug really deep on some personal emotions and fears I experience as a gay person for a lot of sid's arc here. sid is deeply imperfect in this story, and he's internalizing his pain and the horrible thing that's happened to him, which is making him pull away from his partner, and sid is not responding how geno wants, nor is he responding well, period, though he's trying in his own wounded, stilted way.

and beloved geno, whose tender heart is so hidden away for fear of someone hurting it. I really like writing geno; he's huffy and emotional and sometimes bitchy and feels things SO deeply.

once I had more of an idea, I was already working on a more detailed outline. this is where I seriously took Jes's advice and WROTE EVERYTHING OUT! it made it so much less daunting, because I didn't have to be figuring out my next steps AND crafting sentences at the same time. also this is where I tell you that the title of this post is mostly a lie, it was metawriting I failed at.

This outline also meant I avoided writing large swaths of things that should've been cut. Another beta told me I should delete three scenes and condense a bunch of emotions into the club scene, and she was SO right. Cutting events out of an outline is WAY easier than cutting out pages of text.

Ironically my outline kind of deteriorated after the club scene, but that's alright: after I wrote the club scene, I actually had a clear vision of what I wanted the end to be. I just had to trust myself. I CAN do this, I CAN still just write intuitively sometimes!

I think California did what I wanted it to do. I'd love to try something out that's longer and has more story arcs in it (jes has a post for that too!) but I think that's best saved for another, longer project, though 18k isn't short.

next up is maggie stief's writing seminar that I bought a month back. I'm going to start working on that this month and see how I like it. I have a few halloween fic ideas, plus spookfest, so these next two months we should be cooking in the kitchen!

[freddieslater]

Rowing the Rarepair Rowboat: Josie Saltzman x Jed Tien (Legacies)

Requested by anonymous

Josie's laughing. She has been for nearly the last half hour, no matter how serious she keeps trying to be.

"No, no — that's not what it says!" she says, trying to sound stern but only laughing more as Jed continues purposefully messing up the script. She reaches to take it back from him. "Stefan would never say that!"

"It's creative freedom," Jed argues, grinning. His voice only grows more amused as he stretches his arm up further with the script, knowing that she can't reach it but delighting in watching her try. Those stupid four inches of height really do make a difference even sitting down. "Landon took creative freedom just writing this whole thing, so why can't we?"

Josie puffs out a breath, momentarily pausing her attempts. "Because — Landon kept as close to the facts as he could through history books and talking with my uncle Damon, but you—“

She lunges for the script, thinking his guard will be lowered enough for her victory. But Jed has the reflexes of a wolf and immediately stretches his arm higher, switching the script over to his right hand to add even more of an obstacle, and leaving her hands to lunge pointlessly at his wrist. Jed laughs and it's impossible for Josie not to as well, even through her groaning and slumping in defeat.

"—you're just making things up!" she finishes with another huff.

"You don't know that!" Jed insists, his eyes shining with joy at their playful bickering. "Here, listen, I feel like I can really capture Stefan's inner monolouge." He clears his throat theatrically and Josie rolls her eyes even as she bites the inside of her cheek to keep her smile from straying too far at the serious, brooding look he puts on. "I'm so conflicted. Should I tell Elena that I'm a vampire, or should I cover myself in glitter and go out in the sun in front of her in the hopes that she'll catch on?"

"Oh my god, sto-o-op!" Josie exclaims, bursting into laughter again and throwing her head back. "You sound like Uncle Damon!"

"I'm mocking Damon," Jed counters, his mock seriousness cracking to let his grin shine through as he slips back into his dramatic speech, standing up. Josie's eyes widen and she follows him, back to actively trying to retrieve the script from him. "What if she would prefer a sparkling boyfriend? Will I have to lie and tell her Twilight was real for the rest of our lives together?"

"I think she would notice you were lying when you run out of — glitter!" Josie makes another failed lunge for the script. She jumps for it, but Jed quickly switches hands again. "Or when she becomes a vampire as well and realizes that she burns just trying to open the curtains."

Jed hums and nods as if in genuine deep thought, all while still walking backwards and ensuring the script is out of her reach. She's not really trying to get it back anymore. More just making halfhearted lunges for it, only succeeding in grabbing at his arms instead. 

"You make a good point," he concedes. "Maybe she'd be willing to settle for me in all of my non-sparkliness." A mischievious glint brightens in his eyes as he looks at Josie and plasters on that brooding look again. "Elena. I'm sorry I don't sparkle."

Josie rolls her eyes. "Are we really doing this?"

Jed raises an eyebrow and gives her a look that says, we are if you play along. And, okay, they have some time to spare for rehearsal. Landon probably won't need them for another half hour while he's going over Lizzie's scenes as their mom and Cleo as Aunt Bonnie. They're having some trouble getting their last duet number done, the one before the wedding after Stefan killed Enzo. It's a whole thing. 

So, playing along could be fun. 

"You lied to me, Stefan," Josie says, putting on her best impression of her aunt Elena. She tries not to think about how much trouble she would be in for this with her. "You told me it was all real. Was it all just an act? Are you even really allergic to garlic?"

The last part nearly makes Jed crack up on the spot, having to press his lips together. After a calm beat, he gets back into character — or at least the caricatures of them — and looks at Josie with wide eyes, pleading with her. 

"I..." He turns his head away dramatically, and in a whisper, says, "No. I'm not."

Josie scoffs and takes a step back as if scandalized. Disgusted. 

"Our entire relationship is a lie!" she accuses, a hand on her chest. "Did you plan on running into me that day outside the bathroom? Was this whole thing just some... some twisted, manipulation?"

"No!" Jed steps towards her, hands outstretched to reach for hers, but Josie holds one up in front of her, stopping him short. "No, it was nothing like that. Yes, I — I maybe did run into you on purpose that day, but it's because I already knew how much I cared about you. And when we did meet, those feelings for you only grew stronger."

They are partially taking words from the script, Josie acknowledges, only saying them instead of singing them, and it's only bits here and there. The rest is entirely improvised on the spot, and Josie will admit, she's kind of impressed by how well he's nailing this. She knew he was really excited about getting to play Stefan but she hadn't really thought he put that much thought into it beyond... well, showing off like a lot of the others who auditioned. 

"But how can I know that you're telling the truth?" Josie says, shaking her head sadly. She gingerly reaches for the pendant around her neck, fingering it gently as she glances down at it. "You could have gotten in my head without me knowing about it."

"I would never do that to you," Jed insists firmly, trying to catch and hold onto her gaze. "That necklace protects you from any vampire's mind compulsion. I gave it to you to protect you."

"From you?" Josie snaps, her head shooting up and her chin jutting out with a glare. 

A mistake, because it gives Jed the perfect opportunity to keep her eyes locked on his. Once they're there, focused on his wide, sad eyes — they're not as dark in this lighting and up this close, they're kind of like a shimmering brown, little lighter brown specks flickering like sparks off of a spell against the darker brown — she can't look away. She's too caught up in it.

"Yes," Jed agrees softly. "From me as well. So you would know, when this moment finally came, that I would never dream of doing anything to hurt you. Not on purpose." He sighs. "You don't have to trust me, Elena, but please believe that I'm telling the truth when I tell you that everything else was real, including... especially my feelings for you."

"How can you be so sure, Stefan?" Josie asks. "How -- how do you know yourself that what you feel for me is real and not just some way for you to hold on to your past?" She steels her stare as best she can, setting her jaw. "To Katherine?"

"Because what I feel for you is beyond anything I ever felt for Katherine," Jed swoops right in, saying the right words in the right voice.

He steps forward and she doesn't back away this time, but tilts her head up, keeping her ground. Then, with perfect calculation, and as smooth as if he does this all the time, he reaches out and rests a hand on either side of her neck, thumbs just barely brushing her jaw. When she says she freezes like a statue, she means it save for the shiver that runs from where his palms are touching her skin, down her spine and up the back of her neck. 

"You and her… you're nothing alike," Jed says, softening his voice like melted butter, and Josie swears she's not just staring at him with her mouth open in awe, but she also can't be sure. "You share an appearance, but when I look at you... you're all I see. No one else. Because your heart is what make you who you are, and your soul. And those are things I can feel and see, and they're the reason that I fell in love with you. Because of who you are, the way you think, the way you love and feel so passionately."

He slips a hand up to lightly brush away a stray lock of her hair. His eyes follow his own fingers to tuck it behind her ear. Josie tries to recall if werewolves have heightened hearing because her heart may be turning into a ticking time bomb and she's not too sure why, but something is telling her no one else should be allowed to hear it. 

"That's why I love you," Jed repeats, reconnecting with her gaze. "Even if you may never believe that."

This is her cue, a little voice reminds her, suddenly striking an alarm bell that reverberates through her mind and kicks her out of her staring —gazing, it was definitely gazing, Lizzie would call it gazing, for sure. 

"I believe you," she breathes out. 

Jed blinks in surprise, then a soft smile takes its place. Josie returns it. 

Then the Lizzie voice echoes back through her mind, saying, this is the part in the play where you kiss. And that thought absolutely terrifies Josie, because — what? They were just joking around, but it's occuring to her now that come show night, they will be doing this again, for real, and yes, there will be a kiss. A very scripted kiss. No spontaniety. 

"Even..." she continues quietly, kicking the train of thought off its tracks and diverting down a safer route, "... if I'm disappointed that you don't sparkle. I was looking forward to having a disco ball for a boyfriend."

It successfully breaks Jed out of character; he laughs and has to look away. Josie almost breathes a sigh of relief with the connection broken. It was like a spell had come over her. She just laughs with him, her shoulders easing down a little from where they had hunched with frozen tension. 

Before either of them can speak again, there's an outburst of applause from the doorway. Josie's and Jed's eyes widen as they both quickly look over to find Landon, Lizzie, and Cleo standing there. All three are clapping and wearing bright smiles; Landon's eyes are wide and... in awe, his expression like an excited puppy; Cleo is simply smiling, but there's something in her eyes that dances around the knowing expression; and Lizzie has never looked so smug in her life. 

The two of them break apart, Jed quickly pulling his hands back to him then hastily stuffing them in his pockets. Josie fiddles with the pendant around her neck and tries to avoid looking at anyone as her cheeks flush hot and probably red. 

"That... was amazing!" Landon is saying, marching right over to them with purpose that gives Josie great anxiety. "You two — oh my god, the chemistry? You have nailed the roles of Stefan and Elena, I mean" —he's looking between them with those wide eyes of disbelief, shaking his head— “if I didn't know better watching that, I would have sworn it was real! You were obviously the perfect choices for this."

Josie's face only flushes harder, more furiously at that comment. She chuckles nervously, and it ends too quickly. When she glances up at Lizzie, she finds exactly the expression she was anticipating. The knowing side-eye, the smirk, the slightly tilted head that says she is definitely getting involved in this. That's going to be a fun conversation. 

Meanwhile, Jed rubs his neck sheepishly and tries not to appear too flustered under the many pairs of eyes. "Thanks! Uh, yeah, we were just... practicising. We went a little off-script, sorry about that. Just wanted to get a feel of the characters."

"Oh yeah, I don't doubt you wanted a feel of the characters," Lizzie emphasizes to Josie's mortification. She ignores her do you have to?! look of alarm and crosses her arms. "But... I agree with Landon."

"Yes, you two were incredible," Cleo chimes in, and Josie manages a small smile of thanks back at her when she catches her eyes. "I don't know this Stefan or Elena but with you two playing them, I feel like I do."

Josie's rubbing at her neck now, trying to keep her smile in place as she nods. "Thanks. So, uh, are you guys done rehearsing?"

The quick change in subject does not go unnoticed by either of the girls. Or Jed, who slides her a glance that adamantly avoids catching. Only Landon, who deflates a little but doesn't entirely lose the strangely upbeat thing he has going on at the moment.

"Sort of. For now. We're taking a break," he says. "We've got most of the number down. It's just this bit towards the end, but it'll be all fine. You guys just keep rehearsing — all of you!"

He points a finger at each of them in turn as he starts to back away. Josie's beginning to think his upbeat thing is more of a nervous breakdown thing the more she sees him. It's like he's becoming more and more unravelled with every rehearsal. Understandable, she thinks quietly to herself, it's not exactly easy. 

As he leaves the gym, Lizzie turns an arched eyebrow on them. "So, should we leave the two of you to continue rehearsing or—“

"Actually, I have Chemistry — I mean—“ Josie hasn't wished Malivore to swallow her whole so much in her life "—I have class. So, uh..." She turns to face Jed for the first time since they were interrupted and shoots him a smile, asking, "Later? We can, uh, pick back up from... pa-page twenty-three?"

Jed nods, maybe a little too vigorous and frantic. "Yeah, of course!"

"Okay! Good." Josie swings right around, saying, "Bye!" then marches straight towards the door and out of the gym before anyone can stop her. 

[valiantarcher]

I have random and assorted thoughts on my Constance Savery reads over the past couple of weeks. I’ve categorised them by work (Magic in My Shoes, “The Waswytch Secret”, The Reb and the Redcoats, The Good Ship Red Lily, and Enemy Brothers) so those who haven’t read all of them have the option to (hopefully easily) scroll past the unread ones if they so desire. I have also put them under the cut due to length.

Magic in My Shoes: I enjoyed Sally as the narrator, and the premise was engaging even with me knowing the secret early in the book. I was a little surprised by the accusations of ill-nourishment and neglect against Aunt Persis, but in retrospect, I appreciate that realism - four growing children are not going to flourish off even generous portions for two of them. Which brings me to my main complaint - Tandy and his unwillingness to see gorging himself was selfish and wrong on many levels. Despite the thin excuse that he had been delicate and sickly at times in the past, I really expected Josset (with Laurence’s support) to put his foot down instead of continuing to baby him (after all, as someone remarked, triplets are all of the same age). Tandy didn’t ruin the story for me, but he made certain parts of it very irritating. I did love the plan involving ten-year-old Laurence becoming a schoolteacher and, when Aunt Persis declared that was nonsense, all the children bring up a moral tale with a six-year-old being so studious that she became a teacher as solid proof.

“The Waswytch Secret”: Given that it was in a collection of ghost stories (well, sort of - most had some sort of haunting element, if only a little, but I’m still not sure why “The Red-Headed League” was included), I wasn’t sure what to expect at first. It was thoroughly Savery, though, and an enjoyable read with an element of mystery. It felt slightly different from her novels, and I think that was due to the choice of one of the younger children as narrator.

Reb and Redcoats: This was a reread and I found it a pretty fun one this time around. Randal’s integration into and relationship with the Darringtons was charming. I couldn’t decide whether Tim Wingate’s inaptitude for stealth and secrecy was more irritating or amusing, but I swung towards the latter by the end, especially given his cheerful nature. My main gripe is that I still feel like the Patty switch was kind of cheating.

The Good Ship Red Lily: I struggled with this one a lot even past (or maybe because of) the tense start. Violet was a horrible child, and I loathed Ingram and disliked Sir Timon. Objectively, of course it’s good that there was reconciliation with Ingram and that he repented and asked forgiveness, but I could not make myself invested in it (though the tiny glimpses we had of it from Michael’s perspective helped a little). I enjoyed Toby as primary character a lot and especially appreciated his resolution to deny the pleasures when he felt accepting them would go against his conscience. I wasn’t very pleased with the treatment of Patience, though - Toby said the others didn’t join him in his denial because they were too young to understand; while that certainly makes sense for the younger ones (and Violet is a category in and of herself), Patience is a year older than him and - although not privy to all the knowledge and trust from their father that Toby is - was Toby’s confidant about plans to escape. She showed a lack of wisdom in following Violet up the chimney, but that could partially have been explained by her caregiving to the younger children. Regardless, especially since all knew about Ingram’s betrayal, I think Patience at least should have been given a reason for not seeing the pleasures as a betrayal of their father instead of being pushed to the side and under the general but false umbrella of “too young to understand”.

Enemy Brothers: Especially after The Good Ship Red Lily, I was afraid this one might not live up to the positive recollection I had of it - but it didn’t disappoint. I very much appreciated that, although Dym was the one who had a special connection with Tony, Tony belonged to the entire family and they to him. I know Tony takes it lightly at the end and chalks it up to their keenness for detective work, but James and Porgy cycling 60 miles after him and the German in the car was no small thing. And, while it bugs me a little bit that Ginger doesn’t recgonise Tony despite the marked resemblance to Dym, I’ll let it go with the idea that he thinks he’s familiar but his brain doesn’t provide the correct context while on ship. I have a new appreciation for Dym. On one hand, of course he is gentle and doesn’t take harm easily from Tony - he’s been searching for Tony for years and so he’s been choosing to love Tony for years. And, on the other, you can tell he still hasn’t forgiven Max’s Mutti for stealing Tony and just how much effort it takes for him to choose to tell Tony to still love her and that he will take him to see her after the war. I also appreciate the honesty that Dym had in discussing England’s past and how they were not always on the side of right but that this time, they were. Also, Dym was a bomber pilot! I don’t know the exact statistics, but this was an incredibly dangerous job. I’m sure it varied some between organizations and aircraft, but if you were on the crew of a US B-17 bomber doing runs, the odds were you would only make it halfway through the 25 runs (I believe that’s right for the year it was published?) you were supposed to before being killed, captured, or severely injured. Even if you beat the odds and made it through all those runs (as some did), you would have had multiple crewmembers who did not and so would not have kept your full crew together (Were there rare exceptions to this, crews who made it all together? I hope so, but I don’t know). At any rate, when Euphemia comments to Dym and his friends to leave croquet until the summer when it was warmer and the way they all looked at each other for a moment as if there was no certainty that summer would come hit hard this time. (Oh, I just found someone noting that the RAF flew night missions and had a higher casualty rate than the US bombers, though it did depend on the year, of course - if they weren’t in the worst year yet, they were heading into it.) And the moment when Tony finds Dym and comes up behind him, nervous and afraid, and whispers “Please, George, I’ve come back” is just wonderful. I think there’s an idea of fear and justice vs. love and mercy, along with the hope that the choice of coming back will make a difference, but I haven’t figured out how to put it into words. I’m actually kind of shocked this book has never been made into a movie or a mini-series, especially when WWII stories have been so popular in somewhat recent years. But perhaps the strong Christian threads have put producers off (...not that that’s stopped others from mangling or removing them from other works).

The Good Ship Red Lily and Enemy Brothers: Enemy Brothers feels like a kind of inverse of The Good Ship Red Lily. Both books deal with children meeting and spending time with family members (and because of kidnapping, no less) and making decisions as to where home is and who true family is, but the role of the family is drastically different. In Red Lily, the dapper uncle is the kidnapper. Ingram tries to act like he is filling the kind, wise, but fun adult role and the children do love him for that. However, he is directly and actively responsible for their kidnapping, for previous imprisonment of their father, and for the current attempt to capture their father. In Enemy Brothers, Dym is ostensibly in the enemy role (being English and responsible for Tony’s “imprisonment” in the White Priory), but his actions are kind, loving, and (mostly) wise. Even when Tony is hating him, he can’t deny there’s a magnetism around Dym that all the children, including him, recognise and respond to. It’s not quite that serious, but I am reminded of the exchange in The Fellowship of the Ring about the enemy’s agents seeming fair but feeling foul, while the good may look foul but feel fair. But where an understanding of Ingram’s true nature leads Toby to separate from him and his grandfather, a deeper understanding of Dym and his true character helps Tony to make the hard but right decision about his home and family. In both cases, repentance and returning bring about reconciliation and restoration, but Ingram is the one repenting in Red Lily, confessing and asking forgiveness of his brother. In Enemy Brothers, Tony is the one who comes back, finally seeking the brother who has sought him for so long. He doesn’t ask for forgiveness from his brother in words and indeed doesn’t need to because his actions speak so loudly of it, but is fully received with love and restored.

[sojo-gatoru]

Why I Need Asexuality

This is going to be a long one so strap in, grab a cold beverage and listen to me ramble if you want.

I am asexual. I’ve been identifying as ace since around 2016/17 when I first began to understand what that word really meant and how the word feels. Its discovery explained so many things for which I had no explanation for before, it helped me realize a lot of big important things about myself, and for a few years I felt nearly invincible with the ace badge being proudly displayed on my chest. But all that changed in the last year. I am still ace, but at times I feel ashamed and alone, like I don’t belong in this society, like I don’t belong with my friends and family...I just feel so left out, and sometimes, cast away.

One big insecurity of mine are relationships. I’ve never been in one. Sometimes I jokingly say that I have “relationship anxiety” which I guess is partially true. More often than not I blamed my asexuality and/or my demi-romanticism for it; I didn’t want to ruin perfectly functioning friendships by “confessing my love”, because I knew my love wasn’t enough, the way I love would never be enough, the way I feel and experience love isn’t “normal”. So I’ve always been scared of that.

Now, I’ve been in love exactly three times in my entire life. All of them, very good friends, people who are so dear and near to me that I could not imagine a life without them. Well, I’ve lost two of them simply because my sexuality wasn’t compatible with theirs. Which is of course absolutely fine! If they don’t want to engage in a relationship with me, I can perfectly understand that.

This might sound a little confusing, so I think I need to explain a few things.

The first person I ever fell in love with was my former best friend. Unfortunately, I realized it way too late and I feel so incredibly guilty for that. I should’ve told them sooner, that I do feel romantic attraction towards them, but with me being a fool, I never did. And they dropped me. They never explicitly stated why, but I know me being ace was definitely part of it.

(They dropped a few hints that my sexuality was both a blessing and a curse, and they thought I was unattainable because of it...wish I could’ve cleared that up, but now it’s too late). Losing this friend still hurts so, so much. And I still grieve, and I still blame myself, thinking what I should’ve done better. That was the first time I felt an overwhelming self-hatred, wishing I wasn’t who I am, wishing I actually could be sexually attracted to someone. But I can’t, that’s not me. And it hurts people. That was in early 2019.

The second person I ever fell in love with was another now former friend. We started out as just acquaintances, but after we were seeing each other more and more over the span of a few months, I think there was a spark. From me and them. I don’t...want to get too much into the details here; I think when I say it ended after they suggested they could “fix me” the rest should be pretty self explanatory.

But then again, I didn’t blame them, I blamed myself. I told myself “if I wasn’t such a prude, if I wasn’t so appalled by sex, this could’ve worked and I wouldn’t have disappointed my friend.”

And yet…

Our friendship pretty much ended after that; my asexuality had ruined yet another friendship. This person eventually came around and educated themselves on asexuality, they even apologized, but my romantic feelings by then were long gone and the trauma I endured still stays to this day. That was in mid 2020.

The third person I ever fell in love with, and to be quite honest am still in love with (in my own way of being in love) is my best friend...again. I sometimes tell myself that this is just wishful thinking, that we are not compatible as romantic partners and should just stay friends. After all, they did drop the hint that they would never date an ace person, that it would be unfair towards them. And again, the guilt. Even if we were in a romantic relationship, I would still hurt them, simply because I am not available for sex or any sexual activities. Which sucks, because I can and want to love them, but I can’t do it in a way they deserve. I can’t do it in a way that would make the both of us happy. And. It. Sucks.

Instead of being proud of my asexuality, I started to shun it, to hide it, to lock it away and rarely, if ever, mention it to others. Because people don’t understand. They either can’t or don’t want to, they call it unnatural, freakish, or simply a disease.

(side note: hiding it from doctor's in fear of being refused treatment is also a fear of mine, because it did happen to me already in a rather serious situation. But that’s a whole nother can of worms).

My own sexuality makes me feel unwanted, unlovable and undesirable. I shouldn’t be ashamed of it, especially during Pride, but here I am, hiding this big big part of me, this unchangeable, ever present part of me, because it could potentially hurt people.

I just want to love and be loved in return…

But if my love makes the people I care about uncomfortable or is lacking in substance, I don’t know if I should love. I don’t even know if I’m making sense right now; as I’m writing this I started crying, because it hurts, it just hurts so much…

And yet, I titled this “I Need Asexuality”, because I do. I do need it.

I need to know that I am not alone. I need to know that my kind of love is not abusive or immoral, that I am worthy of love and respect. I need to know that I am not doomed to a life of solitude, that I don’t have to be alone.

I don’t want my heart to be broken again, there is only so much energy I have to endure it another time, to lose a friend whom I loved so much that they had to leave.

I know I am rambling nonsense now. I am so sorry for that. idk...just...needed to get this out before I am losing my mind.

[afinepricklypear]

Confessions & Deleted Scenes

I get a lot of anxiety when it comes to comments on my writing. When a story of mine starts to garner a lot of attention, replying to readers and continuing the work, becomes increasingly difficult. Maybe it’s a touch of Imposter Syndrome, but I get stage fright. Yet, if I got no comments, or I saw no increase in comments, I couldn’t continue either. It’s this strange “damned-if-you-do, damned-if-you-don’t” struggle. I used to get around it by starting new fanfiction accounts and starting over, rebuilding an audience in a new fandom, but I don’t want to do that anymore. I don’t want to run from my stories. But. I’m in that mental place right now, even looking at comments and trying to muster the werewithal to reply makes me sick to my stomach and want to break down. I can’t breathe and I start crying, the thoughts in my head: I’m not this person, I didn’t write this thing that you liked so much, it’s trash, it’s all trash, and if I did, it was a fluke, and I can’t recreate it. Then the paranoia sets in: the readers are leaving, they see that I can’t do this, they hate me, they hate my work, I knew all along it wasn’t good enough.

Ah. Well. I’m working on it. I want to move past this and feel confident and continue with the stories in my head without the fear that no one will like it or they’ll like it too much so that eventually I’ll disappoint them. The words are there, I just can’t get them on to paper right now in a way that is satisfactory. So I’ll try and I’ll fail and I’ll try and I’ll fail.

In the meantime, while I get my shit together, here’s the original chapter 1 from my first attempt at writing “Wake Up” for my BSD fanfiction series Release (posted here on AO3). I haven’t read it since I retconned it, so it’s not edited. I wonder if anyone will find this here.

*Chapter*

A cold gray frost coated the windows of every building along the dusky alleyway. Chuuya leaned back against a building’s brick wall, crouched low to the ground, head tipped to one side, and a heavy gray, linen coat draped over his shoulders. He tried not to think about the lingering scent of urine on the air, or the fact his thin shirt and jeans provided little protection from the severe drop in temperature that evening. The hair on his arms and back of neck prickled on end, his ability, For the Tainted Sorrow, was desperate to unleash and wreak havoc on the cityscape around them. But like the day before, and the day before that, and the day before that, he wouldn’t be using his ability that night.  

A week had passed since Chuuya was forced to join the Armed Detective Agency after his violent departure from the Port Mafia. The injuries he sustained from leaving the organization he’d called home for seven years, and the incident leading up to it out in Hiratsuka, were little more than dull aches and scars, now, thanks in part to the Agency doctor and her healing ability, but the memories lingered like bad dreams. He kept waking in the middle of the night, lost and disoriented, in a vaguely familiar bedroll that his instincts rejected as ‘home’. It was only Dazai’s slumbering embrace, unconsciously blanketing Chuuya with No Longer Human that kept Chuuya from doing damage to his surroundings on instinct with For the Tainted Sorrow.

On top of that, he was still adjusting to his change in employment, still settling into his decision and the concept that it could be right for him, even beneficial, to work with the Agency of detectives he’d called enemy a month ago, and even tried to kill on more than one occasion. Those facts, of course, were the reasoning behind the strict conditions of his joining the Agency, which included a moratorium on his ability use without ‘permission’ from the Boss, Agency President Fukuzawa, and a zero-tolerance policy of No-Killing, No-Torturing. To say sticking to these conditions proved difficult was an understatement but Chuuya was nothing if not willing to rise to any challenge. Even despite Dazai’s constant efforts to rile him up at the office, or Kunikida breathing down his neck, eager for him slip up so they could oust him like the Port Mafia. Every day he felt like a caged tiger, gawked at by zoo patrons, while pacing his confines, flexing his claws and unable to do anything with them.

Luckily, and speaking of caged tigers, Chuuya’s week with the Agency had been spent shadowing his new “mentor” in the Agency, Atsushi. He worked alongside the boy and the boy’s partner, another newcomer to the Agency from the Port Mafia, Kyouka. They were the greenest detectives in the Agency, so while the rest of the detectives took on any higher priority cases that walked through the door, Atsushi and his mentees were tasked with handling all of the smaller, more tedious, and lower risk ones. That night they were following up on a serial burglary case in a prominent neighborhood following a lead given to them by the Agency’s resident smug bastard detective, Ranpo. After hitting multiple dead-ends on their case all week, Atsushi finally took their case file to the “best detective in the world” and appealed to him with a box of candy to use his “Ultimate Deduction”. He recommended they stake out a particular convenience store in the targeted neighborhood that night – odd, because all of the burglaries had been at residences – and he warned that they were dealing with an ability user.

“As if we hadn’t already figured out we were dealing with an ability user,” Chuuya muttered under his breath. He hadn’t been impressed with Ranpo’s display. There had been no signs of a break-in, no forced entry, just items missing. The only clue was uncovered at one of the victimized houses, the back portion of a shoeprint cut in half by the house’s exterior wall. Chuuya shuddered again from a wintery breeze nipping at any exposed bit of his skin. He knew he should’ve brought a scarf, but he’d been too preoccupied about ensuring Dazai was properly packed and prepared for an overnight in Hiratsuka. Chuuya couldn’t decide if the other man was really so terrible at taking care of himself, or if he just got a kick out of Chuuya doting over him. Years of ‘hating’ one another had taught Chuuya the latter was more likely.

For the most part, the Agency was in limbo regarding their most recent case out in Hiratsuka that had revealed there was a mysterious organization kidnapping ability users for experimentation and using them to manufacture replica abilities. It was the kind of discovery that, according to everyone at the Agency, despite Chuuya’s skepticism, needed to be handed up the ladder to government officials for them to determine the next plans of action. Meanwhile, Dazai and his partner, Kunikida, were tasked with gathering any and all evidence left behind in Hiratsuka, as well as, maintaining relations with the leader of Hiratsuka’s syndicate, Lady Murasaki, who had hired Dazai to investigate the disappaereance of one of her employees, Fujiawra Sadaei, before the conspiracy was exposed.

It was Dazai who uncovered the entire plot, only to go missing himself, but not before setting up a series of cryptic messages to be sent to Chuuya. Chuuya had been ordered to ignore the messages and delete them from his phone, but he couldn’t turn his back on his former partner, and onetime Port Mafia traitor, regardless of the fact they’d spent the months prior sneaking off to play house together at a small house out in crater city, Suribachi. The decision, and a stack of intimate photographs from that Suribachi house that had been delivered unbeknownst to Chuuya to his former Boss, Mori Oogai, were the toppled pai gow pieces that led to his own fall from grace in the Port Mafia. He still didn’t know where the photographs had come from, but he narrowly escaped their fallout with his life.

Chuuya spotted Kyouka across the street at a park, sitting in a swing and fiddling with the phone she constantly wore around her neck. For all intents and purposes, she looked like a young, middle school aged girl, that was enjoying her winter break. Atsushi, Chuuya knew, was on the other side of the building keeping watch towards the backside. They all wore headpieces to keep in contact with one another.

“Was it supposed to be this cold tonight?” Atsushi’s voice crackled through the headset.

Chuuya frowned, letting his breath out in a puff of steam. He heard a crackle and pop from the metal dumpster beside him and, glancing to it, realized with a start that he could see the frost crystals growing, “I don’t think it’s ever supposed to be this cold, kid. Looks like an ice ability, user’s got to be nearby.”

“There’s movement,” Kyouka’s voice was soft, almost inaudible as a whip of wind roared from nowhere, but firm, “Above you. Third floor window.”

“I can walk up there, no problem,” Chuuya offered, itching for the excuse to defy gravity.

“No,” Atsushi quickly and sharply replied. Chuuya could feel the boy wince at the severity of his own reply through the headset, “I mean…what I mean is…I’ll go, Mr. Nakahara. You and Kyouka stay put, continue watching, in case anyone else shows up.”

Chuuya bit back his frustration, he knew Atsushi was only worried about him, as he said between grit teeth, “Fine. You’re in charge, kid.”

On the other side of the building, Atsushi activated his ability, Beast Under the Moonlight, partially transforming into a mystical white tiger form. He climbed up the wall in a few short jumps, and rounded the corner to investigate the movement Kyouka had seen. Chuuya tucked his gloved hands under his arms, his fingertips aching from the growing chill in the air around him. He stalked towards the back of the building to take up Atsushi’s post. After a couple minutes, Chuuya tapped his foot impatiently.

“You see anything interesting, kid?” he asked.

Silence.

“Atsushi? What’s going on up there?”

Still silence.

“Kyouka, you got eyes on Atsushi?” Chuuya said, pulling away from the backside of the building and hurrying back towards the front, spotting the little girl in her position at the park, dull gaze now fixed skyward, cell phone dangling from its chain around her neck.

“Yes,” she answered, her typical monotone trembling slightly, “He’s at the window. He hasn’t moved for many seconds.”

The sound of several gunshots erupted through the night, and before the ring of their report could finish, Chuuya was sprinting up the fire escape. One quick, last glance to the park to note Kyouka was gone from her post, as well, and without thought to his agreement in joining the Agency, Chuuya used his ability to lift the third-floor window, diving through its entry and rolling to his feet in a light fighting stance, hands loose at his side and senses on high alert. The hallway he’d landed in was empty and somehow cooler than outside, it felt like an ice box. Somewhere inside was the sound of soft sobs. He started forward through the dark apartment and nearly slipped backwards to the ground, catching himself on the wall and a hallway table, the framed pictures atop it quacking and falling over. He winced, but the sobbing didn’t stop, his carelessness hadn’t been heard. Breathing a sigh, his eyes dropped downward to find the wood floorboards were coated in permafrost.  

Delicately, Chuuya righted himself and took small, deliberate steps to slide with some semblance of control along the hall. He passed by dark, empty rooms towards a luminescent glow ahead in what, Chuuya assumed, would be the kitchen. He sidled up next to the entryway, listened for a moment. The sobbing, he surmised, was a woman. There were no other noises. He frowned, reached for the knife he kept strapped at his thigh and held it low against his side, out of sight but ready if he needed it. He stepped into the kitchen.

On the floor, there was a woman kneeling in a tattered gray bathrobe, a gun on the ground beside her. There was splintered wood around shallow bullet holes in the wall on the far side of the room where her gunshots had hit. Chuuya’s breath caught. Outside of the window was Atsushi, his skin pale and lips turning blue. His eyes were moving but the expression behind them was dull, as though staring through a fog, and, every so often, his breath steamed the window in wet puffs.

The floorboard creaked under Chuuya’s weight and the woman reached for her gun, spinning around to point the barrel at Chuuya. Her crisp green eyes were wide, her short, chestnut colored hair falling in greasy, uneven dregs around her tear-stained face. From the corner of his eye, he could see Kyouka’s demon ability hovering beside Atsushi outside, its hand on the ethereal sword at its hip.

“Whoa, let’s be reasonable about this, lady,” Chuuya said, loud enough for Kyouka to hear from wherever she was hiding, undoubtedly nearby. He slipped the knife back into its sheath and put his hands up in as unthreatening a manner as he could, his mind turning possible outcomes from this encounter around in his mind. Every ounce of his body and heart was screaming to kill her swiftly, but then there was the niggling voice in the back of his head, that sounded not unlike Kunikida, whispering, when you slip up…

“I…I didn’t mean to…” the woman cried, whimpering, more, fresh tears forming, turning to droplets of ice on her cheeks, “It wasn’t my fault…I swear…it wasn’t…I had no idea what he was…I had no idea. Please…”

“It’s okay,” Chuuya told her, having no idea what she was ranting about, he assured her, “I know you had nothing to do with it. Not your fault, right? We all make mistakes, put our trust in people that turn around and betray us. You’re just a victim in all of this, huh? Why don’t you put the gun down, Lady Winter, and unfreeze my friend outside, and we can talk about this like civilized people, alright?”

The woman glanced over her shoulder at Atsushi outside, spotted the Demon before it could duck out of sight, and her eyes widened with panic. She yelped, half-crab walking towards the far wall, stumbling to her feet and dropping the pin of the gun, she pointed it back and forth between the window and Chuuya, her hands visibly shaking, unable to hold the gun straight. At that rate, she was more likely to miss than hit if she fired off a shot. Chuuya sighed, and placed his hands in his pockets. He was not cut out for this negotiation crap.

“We’re not here to hurt you,” he said, “We would’ve done it already if we were.”

That made her hesitate. Her eyes flickered from him to the window.

“Why are you here, then?” she demanded.

“Still trying to figure that one out,” Chuuya admitted with a shrug, he glanced at the wall behind her, those bullet holes and furrowed his brow, darting a look back at Atsushi, “Maybe you could start by telling us who you were shooting at.”

“No-no way,” the woman whispered, jabbing the gun at Chuuya, “You tell me who you are first, I’m not just going to confess my life story to some stranger that broke into my home.”

Chuuya smirked, tilting his head to one side, “Fair enough. We’re detectives, investigating the burglaries from that nearby housing community. Someone told us this would be a good lead for solving the case. I’ve got an idea who you are too. You own the convenience store downstairs, nice set-up, only store like it in this city block. I bet you know everyone in this neighborhood. Which house they live in, where they work, what kind of money they make, how many people they’ve got living with them, and what everyone’s schedule is.”

Another trickle of tears that froze halfway down the woman’s face and peeled off like crystalline beads.

“You and a friend get the idea that you could make a little extra cash, on the side. So, you start putting that information to good use. It’s gone good for a while now, but one of you got greedy…or maybe cold-feet, thought the other was going to talk. My friend shows up peeking in the window and it looks like betrayal. Shots are fired and your friend took off,” Chuuya said, “How’d I do?”

“Burglaries…?” the woman faltered, shaking her head, a look of puzzlement crossing her features, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“No?” Chuuya scowled, “Everything made sense though…”

Admittedly, there were still missing pieces to the puzzle. There was no sign of break-in, so he assumed her partner had the ability that got them into the houses undetected. The question of where the stuff was could likely be answered by a thorough search downstairs. Still, where was the partner, why had she been firing off a gun, and what had she been blathering on about when he got there…something about not being her fault and some mysterious ‘he’ – likely the partner, but what didn’t she know about him? Was he working another angle behind her back? As if on cue, a flicker of movement caught Chuuya’s eye, a man stepping through the wall behind the woman, a glinting chef’s knife in hand, poised to stab the unsuspecting woman in the back.

“Hey, watch out,” Chuuya shouted, moving before the words had left his mouth.

The woman, stunned by his sudden lunge at her, fired off a couple shots that Chuuya deflected easily. The man with the knife grabbed the woman, she screamed, Chuuya’s hand brushed the man’s forearm as the blade began to bite into her backside, and Chuuya sent the man flying back towards the wall. He passed harmlessly through. Chuuya pulled the woman behind him, darted looks around the kitchen, jaw set and muscles tense, searching for movement.

“Oh god! He’s going to kill us. You can’t do anything against him. You can’t, he’s too powerful,” the woman blubbered.

“Lady, we just met. Seems too early for you to make that call, don’t you think?” Chuuya felt the ground give out beneath him, and he dropped his gaze to find his foot sinking through the floor, “What the hell?” He darted an anxious look to the woman, barking out commands rapid-fire, “Unfreeze my friend. Find the little girl. Get out of here with them.”

He felt a pinch at his calf, he was starting to solidify in the floor. He sent out a shudder of energy and the ground gave out under him in a hailstorm of plaster and wooden splinters. He picked himself up from the wreckage, coughing and dusting away the debris, finding the startled man standing across from him.

“Dammit, that’s twice now you’ve made me use my ability. I’m on parole,” Chuuya yelled, rushing at the momentarily stunned man and swinging a roundhouse to his head. Chuuya’s leg passed right through, but he didn’t let it slow him down, swinging and thrusting kicks and punches with deadly precision, all of which would have landed if the man wasn’t a fucking ghost. Chuuya fell back, trying to hide that he was a bit out of breath.

“My turn,” the man grinned and began his own assault. When Chuuya raised a block, the man’s strikes passed through unhindered only to solidify and land their hit. He cut across Chuuya’s cheek, jabbed into his side, and blasted him back with a kick to the chest that Chuuya caught himself on with For the Tainted Sorrow. He spit blood and fixed his stance.

“So, you’re the thief, huh? Why do you want the woman dead?” Chuuya said.

“What business is that of yours? You can die with her if you’d like, though,” the man threw a cross jab and, as predicted, his hand passed through Chuuya’s block, but the second it was close enough to Chuuya’s face, the man was dropped to the floor with an increased density. The man used his own ability, and passed through the floor. Chuuya stumbled around as the man reappeared behind him and shot out a fist into his stomach. Chuuya stared down in surprise, puzzled at what the point was, the man’s entire arm was sticking through Chuuya.

“Do you know what happens when an incorporeal object becomes corporeal inside of you?” the man taunted.

Chuuya’s eyes widened, using his ability to propel himself backwards at a breakneck pace, feeling a growing tug as he flew away from the man. He stumbled rather than landed gracefully back against the far wall, gasping in pain, and grasping at his stomach, fingers brushing along a hand sized hole in his shirt, underneath the flesh was damp and jagged. He dropped to his knees and coughed out a thick wad of blood. His eyes blurred, and he shuddered, feeling like he might vomit. There was a crunch of debris under foot as the man approached. Chuuya steeled himself, his thoughts tumbling towards a singular decision: if he was going down here, he’d take the man with him. When the man became solid, Chuuya would crush him to a bloody pulp.

On his way across the room the man swept up a broken pipe from the wreckage, whistling dramatically some off-key tune.

“Where should I put this, I wonder?” the man mused, tapping the pipe in his hand, then pointing it to Chuuya’s forehead, covered in a thin film of sweat, “Your brain?” He lowered it to point at Chuuya’s jugular, “Your throat?” The man’s lip curled up into a sinister grin, as he hovered the pipe in front of Chuuya’s chest, “Your heart.”

“Do it,” Chuuya bit out, “You die with me.”

The man’s pupils dilated with his murderous intent, and he drove the pipe towards Chuuya…only to find resistance. The man frowned, desperately pushing the pipe at Chuuya’s chest but the pipe remained solid, refusing to pass through. Chuuya perked a brow up at the man, and the man scowled, swatting distractedly at something brushing the back of his neck.

“Oy, careful now. I almost lost contact,” a familiar voice chirped in mock cheer, the finger that had been gingerly touching the man’s neck giving way to a bandaged palm wrapping firmly under the man’s chin. Dazai’s face appeared peeking over the man’s shoulder, his other hand pressing a gun into the man’s side, “Hi, Chuuya! This seems like a bad situation.”

“Idiot. I thought you were in Hiratsuka for the night,” Chuuya replied, partially choking on his own blood and the mix of emotions swelling through him at the welcome sight of the other man.

“What’s this? Did you miss me already?” Dazai mused, his lips pressed into a thin frown, his eyes wide with amusement, “I suppose that means I’ll have to give you extra attention tonight...”

The man took their conversation to mean Dazai was distracted, seizing his opportunity, he swung the pipe over his shoulder towards Dazai’s head, and Chuuya’s hand shot out to grab the man’s leg and send him flying, first to slam into the ceiling and then crashing back into the ground, which cratered under his body. He wheezed, blood pooling around him, seeping from his every orifice. Chuuya guessed all of the man’s bones were broken, ground into a fine powder from the impact not unlike falling from a thousand feet overhead, and the thought made Chuuya feel a tiny bit better about the gaping hole in his stomach. Dazai stared blankly at the dying man and blinked a few times.

“That was dramatic, Chuuya.”

“Yeah, well, he’s an asshole,” Chuuya said, words trembling, and his face flushed white, “Where’s the doctor?”

“I sent Kunikida to retrieve her, he took Atsushi and Kyouka with Miss Gould back to the Agency, as well. They should be returning with Yosano shortly,” Dazai knelt in front of Chuuya and smiled, careful not to touch as it was Chuuya’s ability alone holding his guts inside, and Dazai’s No Longer Human would nullify his one lifeline, “It’s a good thing Ranpo called or, it seems, I’d be coming home to a tiny pincushion. Ranpo said ‘Chuuya will definitely do something stupid tonight’. He’s never wrong, you know, so I had no choice but to come here.”

“We only showed Ranpo the file an hour and a half ago. There’s no way he called you with enough time for you to get back here from Hiratsuka. You never made it there, did you?” Chuuya replied.

“Hmm…what’s this? That’s very clever, Chuuya, to figure out on your own…Atsushi must be training you well. I’ll have to reward you later,” Dazai grinned from ear to ear, “A good dog deserves a good treat.”

Chuuya flustered and fell forward, Dazai scrambling back to avoid him as he slumped towards the floor.

“Hey, hey, slug, what are you doing? Taking a nap? I can’t reward a dog that doesn’t greet its master with energy,” Dazai cried out, concern laced beneath his otherwise lighthearted words. He sat down cross-legged on the floor, plopping his elbows on his knees and cupping his face in his hands, he began to explain, “Don’t you want to know that you’re right? We returned early from Hiratsuka. The government contacted President Fukuzawa. We have a meeting with them in the morning.”

“We, huh? You’ll actually show up to it, then?” Chuuya murmured reply, trying desperately to keep his eyes open as black, inky splotches exploded along the edge of his vision.

“Wha-at? You make it sound like I skip out on important work all the time,” Dazai complained, “That’s not very nice, Chuuya. You’re worse than Kunikida, you know.”

“…crossing…the line…” Chuuya murmured.

“It’s not polite to fall asleep when someone is talking to you,” Dazai said, worry now heavy in his words, “I have no choice but to show up. President Fukuzawa personally requested I be there. Ah…but there are really so many other places I’d rather be, more exciting things I could be doing.”

“…oh yeah…like where?”

“Where…hm…anywhere, really. A small country village with a cottage, cobbled streets and cafes. Vineyards and sweet-smelling pastry shops…” he sighed, his voice faraway, “Somewhere where there is a quiet room with an ocean view.”

“…sounds nice…” Chuuya was struggling to draw his breath in, “…should go…sometime…”

“Mmm…maybe. I wonder if someone will be waiting for me there,” Dazai whispered, and Chuuya couldn’t muster a reply. He felt the other man lean over him, breath tickling his ear, “Rest now, Chuuya. Kunikida’s car is here. I’ll take care of you tonight; you take care of me in the morning.”

Like hell, Chuuya tried to reply, but his energy left him all at once, and he leaned unconscious on the ground. It was a few hours later when Chuuya woke in the Agency clinic. He pushed himself up to sitting, found the doctor, Yosano, rearranging the medical supplies in her cabinet nearby. She spared him a glance over her shoulder when his bed creaked protest of his movement. On a nearby bed was laid the ghost man.

“Starting to think we should set you up a permanent bed here. It’s only your first week, but I’m sensing a pattern,” the doctor said, there was an edge to her words that let Chuuya know she hated the thought of him spending more time than necessary in her clinic as much as he did, but the comment was an attempt to meet halfway. They were far from being friends but they were co-workers now. As much as she despised saving his life, she’d continue to do it as long as he worked at the Agency, it was her weird way of saying he could trust her on that, at least. Chuuya gave her a wary look.

“You know, I never had nearly as many near-death experiences working at the Port Mafia as I have working with your Agency. I’m starting to think forcing me to join here was part of a grand ploy to torture me the rest of my life,” Chuuya replied. His throat was dry and his words came out rasped. He gave a nod to the man in the other bed, “You managed to save this tool, too, I see.”

“Despite your best efforts. Quite the number you did on him. I’ve seen the dead bodies of people who fell from hundred story buildings that had less concussive injury than this guy when you were done with him,” Yosano crossed over to the man’s bedside to check on an IV drip attached to his arm. She spotted Chuuya’s questioning look and explained, “Drug induced coma. His ability would make it difficult to keep him locked up, and this seemed like the better solution than forcing Dazai to hold his hand until we could transfer him to government custody.”

“Would’ve been a better punishment to trap him with the waste of bandages,” Chuuya muttered, inspecting the bloody hole in his t-shirt with a click of his tongue.

“Speaking from experience?” Yosano pointed to a bag on the chair beside Chuuya’s bed, “He brought you some clothes from home.”

Home. Home, with Dazai. Their home that they shared. Chuuya smirked, picking himself off the bed and making his way to the chair on unsteady legs, “Fine. Maybe it would’ve just been more entertaining for me. Dazai ‘loves’ holding hands with strange men.” He frowned. “Where’re the kids?”

“Outside, in the office, I presume. Drafting the report for your case tonight.”

She hesitated, pressed her lips into a thin line, examining Chuuya in a way that sent a tiny, self-conscious shiver down his spine. He ignored her staring, picked out the garments in the bag and busied himself with changing. She averted her gaze when he removed his ruined t-shirt, revealing a bandage over his stomach where the ghost-man had stuck his arm. Yosano had the ability to heal him completely, but she never did, only enough that he would live, leaving the rest for him to heal naturally. She thought of it as her own way of getting a bit of justice for Chuuya’s ‘victims’ during his time with the mafia, but from what he understood of how her ability worked, he decided she was really letting him off easy.

“Atsushi is alright, if you were worried. The woman had entombed him in ice, but the tiger kept him safe while he was trapped. His recovery after she unfroze him took no time,” Yosano leaned back against the cabinets and folded her arms across her chest.

Chuuya pulled the fresh shirt over his head and bagged up the tattered one, tossing it in a waste bin. He swept his hat off the chair where it has been propped up next to the change of clothes and strode to the door, leaving without another word. As the doctor surmised, Atsushi and Kyouka were out in the Agency’s main office area, hovered together over Atsushi’s computer. Ranpo was also there, sitting with his feet propped up on his desk, some flashy cartoon that looked to feature robots streaming on his computer screen and a box of caramel coated popcorn in his lap, he laughed uproariously between mouthfuls of the saccharine snack. Chuuya wrinkled his nose in disgust at the childish man and joined the kids.

“Mr. Nakahara, you’re awake. I’m so relieved,” Atsushi perked in his chair, looking sheepish, “I’m sorry…about what happened today…it’s my fault that…”

“Don’t stress it, kid, we were all caught off guard,” Chuuya shot Ranpo a scalding glare, Ranpo continued to watch his cartoon and showed no outward sign that he noticed the look, “Not that we couldn’t have been better prepared if someone had given us more to go off, but that’s not your fault.”

“Right…though I don’t know if any amount of preparation could’ve really prepared us for that. It’s a good thing Dazai showed up,” Atsushi said, and Chuuya bit back the reflexive bitter retort, reminding himself they were on the same side now, but it did little to sway the competitiveness he still felt towards the other man. He was doing just fine on his own, dammit, he didn’t need Dazai to rescue him, “We still haven’t pieced together everything, but it seems the woman’s name is Hannah Gould. She came to Yokohama from America to live as a refugee after her father died in the war. According to Miss Gould, the man’s name is Marcel Aymé but she doesn’t know anything about why he was at her place or why he was trying to kill her.”

“That doesn’t make sense. She said something about…something not being her fault and she mentioned a ‘him’ before that guy showed up. I was sure she was talking about this Aymé guy. She’s got to be lying,” Chuuya said.

“That’s what Dazai thought, Ranpo agreed but he told us she’s not lying about not knowing anything of the burglaries and Marcel is our burglar. We’ll be transferring his custody over to the Special Abilities Department in the morning when they come for that meeting,” Atsushi explained. He paused, his features furrowed. His eyes flickered away; his expression mildly guilty. Chuuya glanced at Kyouka but her face was lowered and features naturally blank.

“There’s more,” Chuuya decided, folding his arms over his chest and tapping his foot, “But you don’t want to tell me.”

“It’s not that,” Atsushi said quickly, his eyes shooting up to Chuuya’s, wide with emotion, “It’s just…”

There was the sound of a door opening and closing down the corridor where the Agency President’s office was located. Kunikida and Dazai’s voices preceded their entry into the main office area, bickering about something nonsensical. It seemed Dazai was trying to convince Kunikida that lemon juice mixed with a bit of clay was restorative when worn on the face and feet at night, President Fukuzawa trailed behind them. When they reached the office, Kunikida’s eyes swept over the room, deliberately avoiding Chuuya. He made a comment to the other two men, said in a gruff voice, “Atsushi, I expect your report on my desk in the morning,” and left for the exit.

“Nakahara. A word,” the Agency President said. Chuuya frowned, meeting Dazai’s eyes momentarily, but the other man gave nothing away.

“Sure thing, ‘Boss’,” Chuuya muttered, moving to follow President Fukuzawa back to his office.

“I’ll help Atsushi with his paperwork,” Dazai declared, cheerfully making his way to Atsushi’s desk.

“Shouldn’t you do your own paperwork…?” Atsushi pointed out to Dazai’s laughter.

“You’re so silly, Atsushi, if I did my paperwork, then what would Kunikida do?”

Once they were in the president’s office, Chuuya plopped down in the available chair and waited for Fukuzawa to pour out two cups of tea. Chuuya had only been in the office once before, when he delivered his choice as to what his post-Port Mafia fate should be. The feeling of that day, and the weight of that decision, came back to him as he settled back in the chair and braced himself for the inevitable fallout of his earlier fight with the ‘ghost’, Marcel. He’d used his ability multiple times, albeit the situation was life or death, and then did his best to kill Marcel.

“We’ve reached the end of your first week,” Fukuzawa began in a tone that Chuuya hadn’t expected. Fukuzawa set one tea cup in front of Chuuya, took his own to his seat. Chuuya glanced at the cup but said nothing. Fukuzawa fixed him with a cool stare, “How are you settling in?”

“Fine,” Chuuya replied, narrowing his eyes on the older man, scrutinizing him for the meaning behind his words. Mori could never be taken at face value, there was a plan in motion, and a plan underneath the plan, and a plan under that plan. No question, no matter how innocuous it may seem, was ever without some unseen intent. Working for Mori meant staying on guard, and being successful in the organization required looking under the layers to see the layers beyond, but also, understanding your place in those layers and, all the while, not questioning the parts you didn’t understand even as you were intended to predict their subtle meanings.

“You’re comfortable working with Atsushi and Kyouka?”

“Sure,” Chuuya shrugged, picking at a loose thread on the upholstery of his chair.

“And the other’s in the Agency? I know some have expressed a distaste in working with…”

“Can we cut the crap?” Chuuya interjected, eyeing Fukuzawa dangerously, “I know I screwed up tonight. I used my ability without your permission and I did my damndest to kill that Aymé guy. I’m not even going to pretend I’m happy he’s still alive, I would’ve squashed him into mush like the roach he is if I’d known the doc was on her way, made sure he was good and dead before she got there.”

“Is that what you truly want right now? Aymé to be dead?” Fukuzawa mused, “In the moment, it could be construed as self-defense, but to still feel so strongly after the fact…to kill him now might be called vengeance.”

“He stuck his arm right through my stomach and out my back. Call me crazy, but I kind of hold it against people when they stick things in my body without my permission,” Chuuya grumbled, slumping down in the chair and tapping his foot on the ground, “So what now, huh? What’s my punishment, ‘Boss’? Am I out?”

“I wonder, if you were given the chance now, left alone with Aymé, would you kill him?”

“Huh?” Chuuya wrinkled his brow, eyed the Agency President suspiciously, “What are you getting at?”

“Merely curious. Is there harm in answering, if you’re already ‘out’, as you say?”

“No. I guess I can’t get in any more trouble, can I?” Chuuya leaned his head back and frowned at the ceiling, “We’d be better off if he was dead. His power was difficult enough for me to take on, hell, he almost killed me, and it’s no secret, I’ve got the most power and skill here in a fight. Not to mention, the man walks through walls, how do you keep someone like that locked up short of sticking them in a permanent sleep or gluing him to Dazai?”

“He has certainly proved himself to be a danger to society.”

“Same is said about me, though, right? Kill what you can’t control. But that’s the government’s style, not mine,” Chuuya smirked wryly at Fukuzawa, reaching forward to take a sip of his tea, and feeling a strange nostalgia from the scene, flashing to a meld of memories of being a younger man seated on a tatami mat across from an oddly serene woman in a kimono, katana sheathed and laid flat beside her. Their conversations then had the same energy and Chuuya felt an inexplicable tranquility cast over him, as he realized, there’s no Mori-level hidden schemes here, Fukuzawa just wants to understand, “Like you said, in the moment, I would’ve killed him because I want to live and, besides, he pissed me off. Same for him, I got in his way, so he wanted me dead. Self-defense, if that’s what you want to call it. But now, I don’t know the whole story and I’d really like to know what the hell is going on. It’d be better to wait for him to wake up so I can ask him, rather than kill him in his sleep and never know, right?”

“And when you have your answers? Would you kill him then?”

“Not my choice, is it?” Chuuya said.

“If it was,” Fukuzawa prompted patiently.

“No,” Chuuya met Fukuzawa’s stare evenly, “If he wants to come for my life or my organization again, I’ll accept the challenge and I’ll make sure there aren’t enough pieces left for the doc to save, but what’s the point in killing him otherwise?”

“I understand.”

“So,” Chuuya crossed his legs at the knee and leaned back in the chair, smiling at Fukuzawa, “You still haven’t told me my punishment for breaking my parole.”

“Even though it went against restrictions imposed on you by our Agency when you joined, you acted in the only way that you could to protect your team and our organization’s interests. I wonder, in this type of circumstance, would Dr. Mori have punished you?” Fukuzawa said, folding his hands in his lap and looking at Chuuya with a stern intent.

Chuuya cleared his throat, shifted in his seat, thought it over a moment before carefully answering, “Mori always said that it’s okay to bend or break the rules sometimes if it’s for the greater good of the organization.”

“A reasonable concept. Why then do you believe that I should act less reasonably than him?���

Chuuya ran his fingers over his palm where he could sense, more than feel, under the fabric that aching scar left behind by Mori’s scalpel driven through his palm. Fukuzawa caught the action, the corner of his lip twitching downward.

“I’m not Dr. Mori, I have no ulterior motives,” Fukuzawa said, in a tone as cold and firm as granite. Chuuya’s eyes flickered to his hard expression and then lowered to the ground, “If we’re to work together, you need to understand that. I’ve conferred with Kunikida and Dazai, we’ve concluded your actions were reasonable given the situation. There is no punishment. Rest tonight, your presence is expected in the meeting with the government’s representative tomorrow.”

“Oh good, and here I thought you said there was no punishment,” Chuuya muttered. He rose from his chair and started to the door.

“Nakahara,” Fukuzawa called him to a halt, “Thank you for protecting Atsushi and Kyouka tonight.”

Chuuya nodded, feeling stiff and a thousand times more exhausted than after using Corruption as he exited the room, shutting the door softly behind him. He found Dazai seated atop Atsushi’s desk, his legs folded and his body entirely blocking the flabbergasted tiger boy and his bemused partner from the computer screen and, what Chuuya could only presume, was their unfinished report. Dazai was speaking excitedly about something or the other, his voice trailed off when Chuuya entered the room and he bounced to his feet.

“Excellent! It’s decided,” Dazai declared.

“Decided? What’s decided?” Chuuya furrowed his brow, certain he was going to regret asking that question. Atsushi and Kyouka looked just as puzzled, and Dazai puffed up, looking rather proud of himself.

“Atsushi and Kyouka will come over for dinner tonight and Chuuya will make us all a wonderful dinner.”

“Who the hell decided that?” Chuuya shouted, his cheeks flustering with the heat of his emotions, and his stomach flopped knowing the futility of his protest.

Dazai’s smile, of course, never faltered, “It is, after all, Chuuya’s fault that we’re all still here.”

“What? No, no, Mr. Nakahara, that’s not…” Atsushi quickly attempted to amend. Kyouka covered a smile, and Chuuya softened his expression on the two young detectives.

“Fine, but we’ll have to stop by the store for ingredients on the way home. I’m not feeding them canned crabmeat,” Chuuya said, leading the way out the door. It only took Dazai a few long strides with his long legs to catch up, resting his hand between Chuuya’s shoulder blades. Kyouka and Atsushi had to scramble to follow after.

At Atsushi’s request, and despite a bit of prodding, because that can’t be all you want, Chuuya prepped some chazuke for dinner that night, topping Dazai’s with crabmeat and Kyouka’s with some fresh tofu cubes, and seared salmon on his and Atsushi’s. He used dashi instead of the traditional green tea, and let Dazai serve the bowls while he plated up some dinner for the kitten winding circles around his ankles. Dazai was regaling the youngsters with a story from their mafia days, with an embarrassing amount of embellishments that Kyouka looked to be taking with a grain of salt and Atsushi devoured wide-eyed and overflowing with naïveté.

“…at that point, my part was done and once they had me chained up in the backroom, all I needed to do was wait for Chuuya to come ‘rescue’ me,” Dazai was saying, Chuuya poured himself a glass of wine, “Of course, Chuuya was late as always. He cleared out the enemy, we returned the hard-drive to Mori, and still had plenty of time for Chuuya to lose ten bets with me before the arcade closed!”

“Amazing! And he really figured out where you were and what you needed him to do just by your turning one book on his shelf backwards?” Atsushi beamed before his features crumpled a little, “I wonder…is it wrong to say that you two made a really impressive team…since the work was for the Mafia?”

“No way, don’t fill his head with that kind of praise, kid. Dazai doesn’t need any more of an ego,” Chuuya complained, making his way to the futon.

“Ah, just who has an ego, glorified hat rack?” Dazai replied haughtily.

“Unlike you, my superiority is real and earned,” Chuuya shot back, scowling down at Dazai with a hand on his hip.

“There’s one thing I don’t understand though,” Atsushi interjected before the two could become fully embroiled in their bickering, “Once you were inside of the enemy’s headquarters, Dazai, it seems like you could have cleared the guards and secured the drive on your own. I’ve seen you fight and if you’d had a gun…I guess I can’t help wondering why…”

“Why he called me into all of it? That’s easy to understand. It was more fun for him to drag me out of bed in the middle of the night and make me do all the hard work,” Chuuya sipped his wine and took the seat next to Dazai on the futon, “Also, back in those days, I never let Dazai have a gun when we worked together.”

“Really? Why is that? I’ve seen Dazai shoot a gun before, he’s a very good shot,” Atsushi furrowed his brow in confusion.

“That was the problem exactly. He is a good shooter and…a suicidal prick,” Chuuya cupped Dazai’s chin, pulling the bandaged man’s face down to press a kiss to his jaw, and Dazai smiled sweetly at him in return, “I couldn’t trust him not to shoot me or himself.”

“Oh, I guess that does make sense,” Atsushi murmured, happily spooning some chazuke into his mouth.

“Hmm…always taking care of me. Such a good dog,” Dazai grinned, slinking his arm about Chuuya.

They ate over light conversation and then Dazai saw the two young detectives to the door as Chuuya cleaned their dishes. He smiled when Dazai crossed the room into the kitchen, slipping his arms around Chuuya’s waist from behind and burying his face in Chuuya’s shoulder. Chuuya relaxed back into Dazai’s embrace, continuing to scrub clean the pot he used to cook their rice that night.

“Mmm…Chuuya…be my lover,” Dazai murmured against Chuuya’s neck, his words vibrating warmly against the skin there, soliciting several shivers of pleasure.

“No,” Chuuya replied softly, rinsing the soap from the pot and his hands, setting the pot on the drying rack beside the sink. He squirmed out of Dazai’s grasp, reaching for a towel and drying his hands. Dazai remained by the sink, head hanging and arms limp, empty and cold, by his sides. Chuuya went to stand in front of Dazai, reaching up to push the shaggy hair from Dazai’s face, curling the tendrils around his fingers and pulling Dazai to his eye level, “I know what you want to do with your lovers, sicko, and I’m not interested.”

“Ah…is that right. So, what are you interested in doing with me then?” Dazai said, grinning into the kiss Chuuya leaned up to his lips, his arms slunk around Chuuya’s body, squeezing out the space between them and deepening their connection. Chuuya ended it first, pressing his forehead to Dazai’s, heat of their kiss coloring his cheeks and smile breathless. He slid his hands down along Dazai’s arms to find Dazai’s wrists, untangling the hold Dazai had on Chuuya’s waist. Chuuya entwined their fingers and led the eager Dazai to their bedroom.

[furry-emblem]

You know what, after talking about how biases and stuff mess with 3H discourse, I'm going to go over my biases and personal experiences with each major faction leader because I feel like it. I don’t really want people arguing with me on these, but I would like to hear other people describing their experiences with these characters because that’s always interesting to read about. I'm listing the characters in order of how much I liked them.

Byleth

Also known as erotica, keyboard smash, Sothis, another keyboard smash, BoobBoob, and Boobama. I really dislike them. I’ve never been particularly fond of silent or self-insert protagonists. At best, they signal to me that the game isn’t going to bother with its story or character writing (and that’s fine when that’s the case), while at worst, it’s the writers taking the most important character in the story and then throwing their hands up and saying “we don’t need to write this one.” Byleth feels like the ladder and it’s to the detriment of pretty much everyone around them. Like, even considering that silent protagonists are supposed to be characters that the player projects onto, Byleth doesn’t do a good job at this because there’s enough canonical descriptions of them that you can’t really roleplay, but there’s so little going on that they don’t stand on their own two feet. So it’s like having a piece of cardboard dictate the fate of the country. They also primarily function as a wall for characters to exposition dump their backstories onto, which isn’t very interesting to watch. Like, 3H would have been better off without Byleth in it. 0/10.

Rhea

I just haven't had the chance to see a lot of her stuff, so I think I'm missing some of the stuff that makes people like her (and I'd prefer to not have that spoiled for me). Haven't seen her supports or the Church Route, but she just hasn't left me with a good impression. I don't like how possessive she gets of Byleth. Like, it creeps me out a little. I'm also a bit disappointed that you never get to play as her. I want the pope to bitch slap people (except not my people). I remember her being an antagonist in CF felt kind of forced to me when I first played because her reactions felt a bit silly. The problem wasn't whether they were justified or not, the problem was lack of context given and the fact that she was saying stuff like "You will BURN in the PITS OF HELL" while standing perfectly still and making this face >:(. And I just couldn't take that seriously for whatever reason because it felt cheesy and I didn't really understand what was going on. It also soured any endearment Rhea showed towards Byleth to me on future routes because her actions in CF gave me the impression of her being obsessive and controlling of Byleth. Like, she acted entitled to their loyalty, expected them to be something they never asked for, and flipped the fuck out when they rejected. It reminded me a lot of some abuse I've gone through and it made me dislike the character. Now that I have more context on the character, I get why she reacted so suddenly and violently because CF kinda threw all of her triggers at her. It feels like she dug her grave in that route, but she dug it in a way that resembles a Greek Tragedy more than anything else. My second route was Claude's route, which thoroughly disappointed me in terms of its writing. When Rhea was exposition dumping her backstory, I was like "I'm boooored," so that really didn't help my opinion of the character. I also don't really like how she gets damsels in three out of four routes. I still don't actively like the character very much because she left a really sour taste in my mouth, but I understand that I'm missing information and that there are reasons to like her. I'm open to learning more about her, but she just really rubs me the wrong way.

Yuri

I never finished Cindered Shadows and I have no real opinion on Yuri. I thought he was a girl when I first saw him and I think he's fun to play as in gameplay, so I guess there's that. I don't really see myself replaying Cindered Shadows if I even finish it because it lacks a lot of the major things I liked from 3H.

Seteth

Does he even get to count? Like, he's not in charge and Rhea should've probably been the leader of Silver Snow. Haven't played that route yet. I like Seteth. He's got good dad energy and also he's my wife (specifically in Verdent Wind). He's got good vibes. Also, if you kill Flayn in Crimson Flower, his English voice acting when he's like "Flayn Noooo" gets to me. I still really like Seteth. A solid 8/10 for me.

Dmitri

I wasn't following Three Houses advertising at all, so I didn't know anything about anyone going in. I was originally just going to skip him entirely because he looked boring and had shitty hair. So I did his route last. Partially out if curiosity for the character, partially because I might as well do every major route since I'd already done Claude and Edelgard, partially to get to know some of the Blue Lions, and partially because some of Edelgard's backstory is only revealed in this route and I was curious about that. Dmitri's route definitely has the best writing out of any of the routes. I really like how personal the route is and how much it focuses on how one specific event impacted all of the characters in it. There are some big problems I have with the route and Dmitri, like how the game uses psychosis to represent Dmitri being murdery and how him changing his mind felt more like Byleth's decision than his own due to their conversation being pretty bad. But overall, he has the best writing. I'd strongly recommend playing through his route if you haven't just because the writing's rather good there. The reason why he's ranked below Claude and Edelgard, however, is pretty simple: I just don't vibe with him. Like, the hero archetype bores the hell out of me, even when it is subverted like it is here. I also just didn't relate to the character on really any level while I did with Claude and Edelgard. The amount of Edelgard slander in his name also annoys me, but I don't think it really impacts how much I like Dmitri. He's a well written character that I just don't vibe with. I also remember his death in Verdant Wind and being like “wtf was that??” Like, the writers killed him offscreen.. twice. In the same route.

Claude 

I really enjoyed Claude as a character. He left a good first impression on me and I almost picked him for my first playthrough because he’s hot and sassy. Two good traits for any character. I ended up picking Edelgard, though, and he left a good impression on me during CF. I like that he held the alliance together and had a contingency plan for if he lost that battle. When I played his route, I ended up going Hard Mode NG+ Casual and I stuck everyone on a dragon. I did find it funny that throughout the school phase, Claude learns bow stuff repeatedly, then in one of the last months, he went up to me and was like “hey, can you start teaching me in axe and flying?” Which he had nothing in either. Then timeskip happens and he comes waltzing in on a dragon. Claude is where all the good memes in the fandom go. That said, I really disliked his route because Claude felt like an afterthought in it (because he literally was). I don’t like that I got out of the route and it felt like I didn’t know as much more about the character going out than I did going in. Some of that is because I didn’t see a ton of his supports, which is where pretty much all of the character work is. I like how Claude is open minded and actively tries to seek out the truth. So, overall, I found his route a bit disappoint but I still really like him because he’s a fun character.

Edelgard

I fucking love Edelgard. She was my first pick and therefore the character that introduced me to the game, and by extension, the series of Fire Emblem. I picked her because she’s pretty, she looked ready to fistfight god from the word go, and she seemed like the mascot of the game so I figured the writers might put a bit extra effort into her route (they didn’t, rip). My very first playthrough was actually a Normal/Classic run, but I had to abandon the run because literally everyone died four hours into the save (I swapped to Normal/Casual). Edelgard ended up carrying me through my first playthrough. I stuck her on a dragon and she killed literally everyone and everything. In my most recent playthrough of the game, I did CF and made her an archer mage dancer for the memes and that was also a ton of fun to play with. Her gameplay feel had a role in me liking her (like, Dmitri is also very powerful, but it was my third playthrough and I knew what I was doing better by then, so him being just as OP as Edelgard didn’t really influence my opinion on him as much as it did her). 

Besides the gameplay, Edelgard’s probably the major character that I relate to the most. Every character on this list (except maybe Byleth or Yuri, I know literally nothing about Yuri tho) has experience with trauma and is coping with it in some way. Edelgard copes by villainizing herself and shutting off her emotions, but despite that, she’s still a low-empathy person who’s still very compassionate person who cares about others and is trying to do the right thing. She also generally tries to express some amount of compassion to her enemies, even if it’s little more than saying “it sucks that Dmitri had to die.” She’s not as open-minded or as truth-seeking as Claude is, but she still tries to keep herself open to other viewpoints and will readily accept any she deems as valid at a moment’s notice. I just really like that about her because I share a lot of those traits in common with her. I also like the idea of her being someone who’s willing to do evil things to bring good to the world. That’s not something you normally get in a protagonist and I think that’s a cool idea. 

I still found her route to be very awkward, especially with no context. Like, I missed the line where Edelgard’s like “yeah, btw, I’m the Flame Emperor,” so I was just wondering what happened there. It’s an anticlimactic way to end the main plot of the first half of the game. I also didn’t really get Rhea’s angle at all. So the route just felt a lot like “I guess I’m doing this now??” In other routes, I found her deaths to be very hard hitting. The death in Verdant Wind only really got me because I really liked Edelgard and she was my original student and I could feel how much she wanted to make her future a reality and how her failing meant all of those sacrifices she made and the evils she’d done would now all be for nothing. I get that impression with Azure Moon’s ending too. 

Most of my appreciation for the character does come from her support conversations. I like how her chain with Bernie has her trying to learn how to not scare her off. Her interactions with Dorothea in their support chain are kind of sad because Dorothea is trying to show her admiration and love for Edelgard in a way that makes sense to her but then Edelgard’s low view of herself causes her to reject the offer. I really liked her Manuela support too (haven’t seen Hanneman’s but I’ve heard that it’s good). I like how with Manuela, Edelgard learns why people are religious and she that being religious doesn’t make you weak. I like her Linhart support where he calls her out for trying to dictate his life and she responds by trying to overhaul some of her own systems and assumptions about him, which leads to her giving him a role to the empire that also properly accommodates for his needs. I like how with Ferdinand’s supports, he has to learn to let go of their rivalry, but once that does happen, Edelgard takes into account his ideas and roles with them. I think it’s funny that she and Hubert flirt with each other by sending each other credible death threats. Edelgard just has a lot of very good supports. Don’t get me wrong, Claude and Dmitri also have supports that are good (I thought Claude’s support chain with Petra was cute and I really like Dmitri’s support chain with Flayn), but Edelgard’s supports go a long way to paint her as someone who is flawed but still really admirable.

Edelgard is definitely one of my favorite fictional characters, and I’d love to see more characters like her in the future.

[ryqoshay]

Promptober-2021: How to Handle a Maki: Shocking Results

Primary Pairing: NicoMaki Words: 569 Rating: G AU: RPG Prompt: Thunderbolt Parent Fic: How to Handle a Maki Time Frame: ??? Story Arc: Stand Alone

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Author’s Note: Prompt for Oct 6th.

Summary: Nico starts teaching Maki some magic wand basics.

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“You know there’s no such thing as a thunderbolt, right, Nico-chan?”

“What are you talking about, Maki-chan?”

“Thunderbolts don’t exist.” Maki reiterated as she studied the wand in her hand. “Lightning is a giant spark of electricity caused by the build up of positive and negative charges between clouds and the ground or other clouds or even the atmosphere itself. That spark is often referred to a bolt, thus a lightning bolt. Thunder is the sound caused by the rapid expansion of air that has been superheated by the lightning bolt. That is why… what?”

“I didn’t get a word of that.” Nico shook her head. “Look, I dunno what weather’s got to do with anything here. This is magic, not nature, different rules apply. Also, I didn’t name the spell.”

“Well, whoever did, named it wrong.”

“Do you want to learn how to use this thing or not?” Nico put a hand on her hip with an air of impatience. “Because your songs are lovely and have proven useful for healing and support and whatnot, but at some point, you’re going to need to learn something offensive in nature…”

“I thought you said this was magic, not…” Maki interrupted

“And frankly your swordplay and archery skills are both horrendous.” Nico interrupted right back. “So, I’m gonna turn you in some kind of caster, even if it kills you.”

“Kills me?”

“Well, you sure as heck ain’t gonna kill me with your skills as they are now.”

Maki deadpanned. Nico laughed.

“Anyway, point the wand over there.” Nico indicated a nearby archery target. “And chant ‘Stabilis Scintilla.’”

“Alright.” Maki held out the magic device, noticing Nico taking several steps back. Hmph, I’ll show her. Maki huffed to herself. “Stabilis Scintilla!”

Tzzzzt!

Maki dropped the wand, literally in shock, as electric magic skittered up her arm.

“W-w-what the heck?!” She sputtered in confusion.

Nico snorted, clearly trying to hold back laughter, but it eventually escaped in a riotous bout. “Maki-chan, your hair!” She pointed. “It’s all frizzy! I… I can’t…” Her words dissolved into another fit.

“You did that on purpose!” Maki accused angrily.

“No, I swear I didn’t!” Nico denied, working hard to calm herself. “Look, I’ll admit that wand is actually of Static Spark, not Thunderbolt.”

Maki growled.

“For safety!” Nico assured, holding up her hands defensively. “I’m not gonna give a newbie adventurer a wand that could actually kill them if they mishandled it.”

“Then, why…?”

“I don’t know.” The Adventurer Guild branch office guildmaster said. “I hate to say that you did something wrong, but that’s the only explanation I can think of.”

“…” There was no denying the expression of disappointment on the redhead’s face.

“Look, Maki-chan,” Nico stepped forward and cupped her hands over the younger girl’s “you’ve clearly got talent, and plenty of potential, elsewise you would not have been able to activate the wand at all. Maybe we just need to refine that potential a bit first. We already know you can heal, so let’s try some wands imbued with spells of that domain. And when we get back to offensive magics, maybe we can try a different element, like fire or wind or whatever.”

That seemed to have the intended effect as Maki’s expression softened. “Alright.” She nodded.

“Right, so I’ll go get a different selection for you to try and you…” Nico chuckled again. “Sorry. You go brush your hair.”

----------

Author’s Note: Yeesh... Not going to lie, I kinda feel a little bad posting this. The first, and as of a few moments ago the only, chapter of HtHaM was posted wa~y back in November of 2019, just shy of two years ago. And the second chapter has been gathering digital dust for over a year. And I still have notes and partial outlines for the third and fourth. Someday I’ll get back to that and get an honest, full length chapter posted for it, instead of just a tiny ficlet.

Of course, that isn’t to say I won’t add more ficlets as the Promptober event continues. I’ve no advance notice for what inspirations will come as each prompt is revealed, which is part of the fun.

Edit: Also, yes, *I* know that the words thunderbolt and lightning bolt are effectively interchangeable. Maki is just being... Maki.

[ashengro-tto]

hello! hope it's okay to ask for more than one? otherwise you can answer the ones you'd prefer to! ♥️♠️🦑👑🐱

Hi! It is more than okay to ask for more than one hehe

[ the rest are under the cut ]

[ also I’m bad at summarizing my thoughts so if the jumps between points feel weird, that’s why ]

[ ALSO also I’m sorry this took so long to be finished (lol) ]

Marlowe & Ace ♥️

Best Friend / Headache #1

Their first meeting was not the best (yes, it’s the same as our canon first meeting with Ace)

Marlowe felt very offended that he would even think of saying stuff like that to their face. “Ignorant”? “Go back to kindergarten”? They don’t like being looked down on, especially when it comes to things like intellect

...Okay, maybe those insults were directed primarily at Grim, but Marlowe felt hurt too!

They’ve had to deal with a great number of terrible personalities in the past, and so, they were able to keep their cool. Grim, however...well, you know how it goes

After a while though, his asshole-ness simply turned into annoying-ness, and Marlowe was able to just brush it off as Typical Ace Behavior

When Ace isn’t being a dick, they get along great! Marlowe’s pretty playful, and a bit of a trickster as well, so the two like to play harmless pranks on the other first years from time to time

And by other first years I mean mostly Deuce. Marlowe apologizes afterwards. Ace does not

Ace likes to tease Marlowe about how badly they’re adjusting to NRC school life (and also their abysmal history and PE grades) but it’s okay because they tease him back about how they’re better at alchemy than him

Hanging out with a guy like Ace who just screams Typical Teenage Boy feels really refreshing to Marlowe

Ace asks a lot of questions, partially because he’s genuinely curious about where Marlowe’s from, but mostly because they told him not to and he knows it annoys them. Marlowe knows he’s doing it to be annoying, so it’s more bearable

Marlowe admires Ace’s bravery (though some might call it recklessness). It was during chapter one, when he stood up to Riddle, that they really felt that “oh, this guy is really cool” feeling. Ace’s willingness to stand up for what he believes in inspires Marlowe to do the same

Marlowe & Deuce ♠️

Best Friend / Headache #2

Their first meeting was also the same as the one in-game

After Deuce summoned the cauldron and dropped it on Ace’s head, Marlowe actually screamed “WHAT THE FUCK” out loud. They don’t swear often, which goes to show how shocked they were

They gave him a very stern lecture about how dangerous that was, how he could have shattered Ace’s skull, how other people could have been injured as well...Deuce felt like he was being scolded by his mother

Don’t even get them started on the heart attack they had when Deuce flung Ace onto the chandelier

After getting to know him a bit better, Marlowe starts liking him a lot more

They adore his decision to leave his delinquent past behind! Marlowe greatly values learning and education, so they’re willing to support him every step of the way

Study buddies!

Their study sessions often turn into tutoring sessions, though, with Marlowe having to explain the lesson to him, but they don’t mind. They’re very patient, and also good at simplifying terms without taking away from their meaning, so Deuce learns pretty quickly with them

They feel a small sense of pride whenever he comes to them showing off his test scores (still low, but certainly an improvement)

The headache part mostly comes from when his Bad Boy Mode activates

Marlowe doesn’t like violence. They recognize that progress isn’t linear, and of course Deuce is going to...go back to the way he was at times, but they urge him to keep his calm and remember that “violence is never the solution”

Ohh, Marlowe was so disappointed when they found out he, Ace, and Grim went to Azul in chapter three. They didn’t even need to scold the three of them, their eyes said it all

Deuce felt the guiltiest, since Marlowe was always the one telling him not to cut corners. He felt extra guilty knowing how much Marlowe hated Azul. They take so much time out of their schedule to help him study, and he goes and asks for help from the one they hate most...!

What Marlowe loves most about Deuce is his willingness to learn and change. He was able to realize that his past actions were hurting his mother, and grew as a person because of it. He’s still growing, and learning to be someone his mother can be proud of, which is something Marlowe greatly respects and admires

Marlowe & Azul 🦑

Answered here!

Marlowe & Vil 👑

They’re actually pretty close!

They’re in the same club, so they interact quite frequently

Vil originally wanted them to try acting in one of the films he was in the process of making. He handed them the script, gave them some props, and the cameras started rolling

Marlowe’s attempts at acting were not good. The delivery of the lines was stilted, their movements stiff. Multiple times they had accidentally dropped the props. They had no clue why they did so terribly, they’re usually good at this kind of stuff. Maybe it was because there were cameras on them?

Vil eventually moved them to the costume department, just so they could contribute even a little bit

Marlowe’s very interested in magical pharmaceuticals. They love learning about how magic intertwines with medicine, and Vil is more than happy to teach them

Vil often scolds Marlowe for not following the skincare routine he’s provided for them, but Marlowe’s not used to such fancy products and strict routines...they really can’t keep up, no matter how hard they try

There’s a lot he nags them for, actually. Their fashion sense (he’s the one who styled their uniform), their diet (it’s not their fault Crowley doesn’t give them enough money for good food), and their sleeping habits (they’re not used to sleeping early, or sleeping a lot) just to name a few

Marlowe likes a lot of things about Vil. He’s hardworking and confident, but most importantly, he helps the people around him

Vil pushes people to work hard so they can reach their full potential and go from a dirty potato to a shining red apple. He isn’t just concerned with his own self-improvement, but the growth and development of others as well. Even if others don’t put in the effort, he still keeps pushing because he never gives up

Marlowe originally thought he’d be a selfish, crab-mentality kind of person, so finding out that he actually wants to see others around him prosper was a surprise, but a welcomed one nonetheless

What they dislike is his method of doing so. Marlowe is very much a kind, gentle person who believes real change shouldn’t come from brute force. They always feel a little annoyed when he acts so harsh towards others

Marlowe & Grim 🐱

Best Friend / Headache SUPREME (yes, he surpasses numbers)

Marlowe called him a “disease-ridden raccoon” when they first saw him, which Grim did not take kindly to

Imagine the Prologue, but all the player choices have an “insult Grim” option

When they found out that they would have to be two halves of one student in order to attend NRC, Marlowe groaned internally. They did not like the little troublemaking furball one bit

All he did was bring misfortune! Their first NRC experience could have gone a lot smoother if he hadn’t caused so much trouble! Disturbing the entrance ceremony, burning an important statue, the chandelier fiasco...randomly waking up in a new world was stressful enough, all that just made things even worse

Honestly, their first few weeks together were terrible. It was all bickering, arguing, snide comments...the ghosts in Ramshackle seriously considered relocating

As time went on, however, the two slowly grew on each other

Marlowe is Grim’s henchman! They buy him food, help him study, and scratch that one part behind his ears to help him fall asleep (which he totally doesn’t like, absolutely not)

Grim is Marlowe’s familiar! He protects them from danger, helps clean around the dorm (if bribed with enough tuna), and looks so cute when he’s sprawled out snoring on the makeshift cat bed they made him

Eventually the arguments turned into playful banter. Marlowe would nag him for not doing his homework, Grim would complain about it, then Marlowe would nag him for complaining, so on so forth

What Marlowe appreciates most about Grim is...his company. He was the first one they met in this strange new world. They both have no place to call home, no family to call their own. All they have is each other, so Marlowe’s really thankful for his company, even if he can be a little annoying at times

Marlowe would never admit it, but they’ve grown so attached to the little monster. They can’t imagine life in Twisted Wonderland without him...but don’t tell him they think that! He’ll never shut up about it!

[unearthcd]

natalia dyer, cis female + she/her | you know andromeda de-larouche, right? they’re twenty-three, and they’ve lived in irving for, like, their whole life? well, their spotify wrapped says they listened to go tomorrow by the newton brothers like, a million times this year, which makes sense ‘cause they’ve got that whole messy stacks of sheet music, observant glances, and the inevitable fading of all beautiful things thing going on. i just checked and their birthday is october 29th, so they’re a scorpio, which is unsurprising, all things considered.

‘tis i, again, coming to you live with a second character! as always, feel free to message me to plot or chat here or on discord (swamp rabbit#1745)!

name: andromeda nicolette de-larouche nicknames: drom, dromeda age, birth date: 23; october 29 hometown: irving, north carolina occupation: musician in various jobs sexuality: bisexual

act i

andromeda nicolette de-larouche was born the middle triplet to a financially comfortable couple right here in irving, north carolina. while the children weren’t being taught three languages and horseback riding by tutors and nannies as toddlers, you could say they were considerably well-off.

mom was a workaholic whose idea of showing affection consisted of a half-hearted head or shoulder pat, lacking in stereotypically motherly instincts. dad was more present and seemed to fill in those emotional gaps, providing genuine love and care to the family. all was well—or as well as any young, young child could tell—until they divorced. the triplets were three and their mother, without so much as a fight, gave up her parental rights over them.

drom took her mom’s departure hard once she was old enough to understand it, though most would be made to believe she was unaffected, the girl possessing a cool and blasé attitude when asked about it. in a way, she unintentionally adopted some of the woman’s traits by way of self-preservation—most notably, a lack of outwardly expressed love and attachment (save for towards her siblings). the signs of a deep and lingering pain were and are there, though, for those observant and caring enough for her to notice them.

eventually dad remarried, bringing a step-mother and her five children into the family. despite this generally happy situation, andromeda’s relationship with her step-mother wasn’t picture-perfect. despite being perfectly kind, drom was partially closed off towards her. that being said, even as a girl she noticed how kind and loving she was towards each and every one of her children—even the more difficult ones, i.e. andromeda.

that is, until one entirely average, unnoteworthy evening when a young dromeda briefly expressed an interest in learning piano at the dinner table. it was her step-mother who immediately signed her up for in-home classes. her step-mother who gifted her the instrument. the large and unexpected gesture brought them closer.

the same support was ever-present throughout the years as drom picked up more and more instruments (violin, cello, organ, guitar...), got into composing, and became involved in the local music scene and those in neighboring cities.

yes, she was a band kid. all throughout middle and high school. and if anyone gave her shit for it, she’d verbally cut them down before she could physically do so with her cello bow <3

act ii

for a while things were good—really good. home life is great, despite dad often being gone at work, a CEO and sole financial provider for the family. drom is a budding musical genius, impressing instructor after instructor. then, at the age of fifteen, things take a sudden turn.

TW: ALCOHOLISM/REHAB. dad was gone more than usual, step-mom seemed particularly stressed. while something had taken a downward turn, neither of them were initially open about it. that is, until dad was placed in rehab. this came as a shock, considering he didn’t drink often at home, instead choosing to do so at the office. andromeda didn’t take this well. it wasn’t like he was especially present before, but the thought of losing another parent, in a sense—of them having picked something else over her and the family—affected her deeply.

despite being surrounded by love, she became fiercely independent and unreliant on others. of course, she loves and is very protective of her family, but she’s also guarded and weary of maintaining any attachments. in a way, especially with her step-mother (another parental figure she couldn’t bear being disappointed by) and her father, once he returned (“ah, the prodigal father makes his triumphant return”). the only relationship she strongly maintained was hers with atty. it’s a triplet thing.

it’s not that drom was rude to her parents (aside from the occasional teenager-like remark), but she definitely wasn’t your typical loving, prime-time-movie-picket-fence daughter, either. she became... cordial. polite, but not affectionate. closed off, once again, but to a new level.

her junior year of high school she began giving music lessons to people of all ages (fellow students, their younger siblings, etc.) for extra spending cash. it wasn’t like she needed it, but she was stubborn and didn’t want to ask mom + dad.

act iii

despite a handful of university scholarship opportunities, a resume of awards, and impressive involvement in a couple short musical tours, once atty decided to stay in irving for college, so did she. from eighteen to twenty-two she attended irving university with a major in musical performance and composition.

at one point she did a study abroad program for a semester, (which i’m leaving super vague, because connection opportunity??) but otherwise her studies were based in her hometown.

post-graduation she’s managed to do a few high-profile projects (composing a track for an animated feature film, writing music for a few east coast indie films) as well as take on a couple jobs—one playing in a neighboring city’s orchestra and one being an accompanist for local theatres and dance studios. catch her in the pit at local productions. don’t bring her flowers, she’ll get embarrassed (or do, please do).

personality + fun facts

look, she isn’t a recluse, she just avoids getting too close with people. she’ll make friends, but she won’t put a ton of stock into the relationship. that way, if you’re gone tomorrow, she isn’t hurt by it.

dry sense of humor. doesn’t care to handle anyone with kid gloves. this sometimes works out in her favor, though. since she isn’t out here looking for her soul mate or found family, she’s never trying to put on a more “presentable” or likable version of herself. so if you’re still wanting to hang out, it’s probably because you genuinely like her

has a mini tattoo of the dies irae (aka classic death motif) notes on her left side ribcage

does instagram lives while composing and practicing music in her room, the little maestro just doing her insane thing

of all her siblings, she’s the closest with atticus. she won’t say it often, but she considered them a rock throughout the turbulence brought on by their bio parents. that’s one of the two relationships she will actively fight to protect and maintain. the other being atty’s daughter, gracelynn, who drom has an uncommon soft spot for. she jokes (or is she?) about making her a musical protégé all of the time.

connection ideas

i have a handful of inspo posts > here < and am starting to add more as i come by them, but i’m open to all of the angst, drama, emotions, heartbreak interesting dynamics!

[forkanna]

[AO3] [WATTPAD]

NOTE: Here we go. Little bit of a shift in this chapter... you'll see. Thanks for keeping up with this fic and all your comments!

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

Everything was rather quiet for a couple of days. Rise threw herself into practicing her vocals with every spare moment, meeting with her manager and conferencing with her record label over the phone. She needed the distraction. Without any clear course of action with Ai, she had decided to let that matter fade into the background. Maybe something would come to her eventually.

On Sunday, she and the gang decided to go fishing, since that was one of Narukami's favourite activities and they were all missing him lately. For most of them, it simply meant getting to wave around poles and wade into the water, splashing each other. Kanji and Naoto resented this because they were much more serious about the matter, but the others didn't pay them too much mind.

"Hey, why didn't you invite Ai?" Chie suddenly asked as they re-baited their hooks. "She too snobby to get down here in the river with us?"

Rise laughed. "You're kidding, right?"

"Yeah," she responded, giggling right along. "No way would she be caught dead touching a fish that's not cooked."

"No… I meant that she wouldn't want to hang out with me anymore."

"Why not?" Yukiko asked. "I thought you were becoming sort of close with her."

Wow, how oblivious could they be? "Not anymore."

Once she had explained properly, which took the better part of half an hour, most of the joy had been sucked out of their springtime activity. Rise did feel a little bad about that, but it was as much their fault as hers, so she didn't spend too much mental energy on sympathy for her friends.

"Gosh, that is so sad," Teddie said with a pronounced pout. He really did seem genuinely disappointed not to have another friend. "I know you guys didn't really mean to hurt her feelings."

"Guess I thought he'd be over that by now," Chie confessed quietly.

"Yeah," Yosuke added. "Like, as long as he stays away from my butt, I don't really care what he does with his time. And man, he looks way better in drag than even Teddie did, so…"

While Teddie was harrumphing as if genuinely offended, Kanji chuckled harshly as he twitched his line in the water the tiniest bit. "What is it with you and that gay panic, bro? I'm surprised your Shadow didn't look more like mine."

"H-hey, I'm just a healthy, red-blooded Japanese male! I like girls who are actually girls! Is that a crime?"

"I'll buy you a butt-protector to keep all the dicks out," Chie cackled bemusedly. Yosuke just grimaced.

"I'm… starting to get why she didn't want this getting out," Rise sighed.

"Hm?" Yukiko said as she turned back in her direction. "What is it?"

"Nothing."

"No, that sounded important. I wouldn't want to hurt anyone's feelings…"

Which she appreciated. Even if the others were a little oblivious sometimes, Yukiko genuinely meant well all the time. Every minute of every day. "It's just… I'm no big expert on this subject, but you guys can see how much work she put into being taken seriously as a woman. Because she looks like one! Nobody could tell! And I think I haven't paid much attention to how hard that must have been for her… I'm… wow. And I really did almost ruin her life."

Not that she had been unaware of that before. She thought she understood, and she did — better than her friends did, for sure. But listening to them casually treat her like a drag act, a joke, a source of anxiety for Yosuke's extra-fragile masculinity, peeled back just enough of the curtain. Now she knew that she really didn't know anything at all.

"Don't be so dramatic," Chie sighed. "Like you said, he was able to play it off, and he's giving you a lot more shit now than is necessary compared to what you did on accident. Like, scales balanced. If he wants to keep being a dick then that's on him."

Rise shrugged helplessly as she tossed her fishing pole back onto the shore. "You're not wrong about that part. I'm not saying her trying to get revenge on me is right. I'm just saying I understand why she feels so betrayed. Didn't really get it before, but…"

"I still don't get it now," Yosuke grunted. "The whole thing makes me super uncomfortable. But it sounds like he already had the surgery, so… doesn't that mean he's a girl anyway?"

"What? No, it's… nevermind that part." She had been about to insist that Ai did not have "The Surgery" yet, even though she had probably undergone several other minor procedures. But that was the kind of detail that would get her even deeper in trouble than she already was, so she cut herself off.

"Well, I'm with Chie," Yukiko said cautiously. "You have apologized for hurting her, you didn't intend to in the first place. If she were a true friend, she would accept your apology."

"I'm not sure it's that simple."

They all turned to look at Naoto, not having expected her to speak. The girl was wearing a very thoughtful expression underneath her newsboy-casquette cap. "What isn't?" Teddie finally prompted when everybody had been quiet for a little too long.

"This situation with Ebihara-san. She's living her life as transgender, and you have jeopardized that life. Even if on accident, I can see how she would interpret that as an attack."

"Come on," Chie sighed. "Any idiot knows the difference between on accident and on purpose."

"Not necessarily. In law, there is such a thing as 'gross criminal negligence'. This means that even if it's an accident, even if you did nothing with the premeditated intent to do harm, you can still cause harm and be held accountable for it. At least, partially."

"So you're saying it's okay that this asshole is trying to frame our friend for cheating?!" Yosuke burst out.

"Hm? Oh, no, not at all," Naoto insisted, a slight crease in her brow. "But this is a matter of criminal pathology. Even if Ebihara-san is not a criminal, she is perpetrating criminal acts; understanding them requires the same skill set. Motive. Means. Opportunity. We already know the last two, more or less; security isn't especially tight at Yasogami High. I'm sure it was a simple matter for her to sneak into the classroom and pilfer the answer key, then sneak it into Rise's bag when no one was looking. So all that's left is… why?"

"Because he's a petty jerk," Chie provided immediately.

"It's not that simple."

"No, it really is. Maybe you guys get something about how serious us gossiping about him was that I don't, but I don't care. You don't treat a friend like that. Period! Even if he's really pissed at Rise, she did apologize, she's trying to make it right. He's not acting like a friend at all. So I say, screw him! Just let him self-destruct and be alone. And if he won't stop being a jerk to you, we will be jerks right back. I'm not going to sit around while he drags you down for something you didn't even do on purpose."

Rise felt a rush of affection toward Chie Satonaka. Even if she couldn't completely agree with everything she was saying, it was nice to know her friends had her back — that these were true blue friendships that had lasted beyond being part of the same Investigation Team. The passion with which she spoke, and the anger she clearly felt toward Ebihara because she was attacking her friend, made the existence of those bonds unmistakable.

However… she also couldn't ignore the way Naoto's brow furrowed further. Kanji also rested a hand on her shoulder. Was she simply upset about losing an argument, or was there more to that?

"I can't disagree with what you say. I was merely trying to point out that in Ebihara-san's estimation, Rise may deserve vengeance more than she does in any of our estimation. She is viewing the situation differently than we are."

"Well his 'estimation' sucks," Chie grumbled.

"Maybe," Rise finally cut in with a discomfited sigh. "But can you guys… can you promise me you won't do anything mean to her without asking me? At least that? I know she's being a jerk, but it's because I messed up. Huge. So this has to be between her and me."

None of them looked too thrilled with that. Yukiko nodded immediately, seemingly satisfied right away that she was doing what was asked of her by her friend. The others were a little slower to agree but they still all did at some point or another, dissatisfied as they were.

"Thanks. And I'm so happy you have my back, I can't express that enough. But I have to figure this out on my own."

"You got it," Kanji grunted as he started reeling in a fish. "Shit… it's a big one… but I'm not gonna forget how you looked when that old bag accused you of cheating. That ain't right. Ebihara better make it right eventually, or his ass is grass."

What an ominous threat. Well-meaning, but ominous. Rise knew she would have to sort this matter out post haste — before she had to find out just how far her friends were willing to go to come to her aid.

                                          ~ o ~

All of this gave birth to a very determined Rise Kujikawa, and this was the one who walked into school on a foggy Monday morning. Ai had done enough damage; she had to forge ahead as if everything was fine. Her new tactic had to be not to let the bullying get to her, because she better understood it was just her friend being hurt by her own actions. And if she wouldn't accept her apology… there was nothing more she could do.

But she didn't have it in her to give up. That option was stricken off the list. Rise was no quitter.

Everything was fine until her second-to-last class of the day. Rise had mostly focused on schoolwork and chatting with her other friends, taking her mind off more depressing matters. Gearing up for a promotional video she was supposed to shoot soon; that would be a first step toward reestablishing herself as an artist, even if she still didn't intend to go back to singing full-time until she graduated. And the class with Ms. Sofue was fine in and of itself… for the first ten minutes or so.

That was when she noticed the smell. At first, she was looking around the room to try and figure out who had lost control of their bowels in such close proximity to other students. Maybe it was something they had for lunch?

A brief investigation ten minutes later revealed the true culprit, once everyone was looking at her like she was being most unladylike. Deep in the recesses of her desk, which she never used to keep anything since she would just have to move it again after class, someone had stuffed an old sandwich. Unless she missed her guess, there was natto and egg on it, among other things. But there was too much mold growing inside the sandwich bag for her to be certain.

"Oh GOOD GOD!" cried one of the boys nearby, covering his face with his arm. "What's in that thing?!"

Waving at the air with her crooked heka, the teacher coughed and demanded, "Please dispose of your lunch in a proper manner from now on, Miss Kujikawa! Make no mistake, even I have no interest in mummified food!"

A few of them were able to wrap it in some paper and drag it to the trash can, amid Rise's protests that she had never seen it before. Nobody believed her, because the natto tended to make it seem obvious that it had come from Marukyu — even though their speciality was tofu, not other soybean offerings. A lot of bickering back and forth broke out until the teacher banged her cane on her desk.

"Enough! Miss Kujikawa has technically broken no rule, even if it was her sandwich. So we'll say no more about it. Please, open your books again and turn to page…"

But the entire class period, Rise couldn't stop thinking about the sandwich. She already knew who it was; only one person at that school was stupid enough to actively mess with a famous pop idol. The instant the bell rang, she pelted out of class so fast that quite a few students gasped. By now, she knew what class Ai was supposed to be in around this time… and where she could find her.

                                          ~ o ~

"Oh!" gasped one of the girls in the locker room when Rise barged past her. "Do you even have this class? What are you doing in the-"

"Ebihara?" she asked. Some girl with a towel wrapped around her hair pointed further into the room. Rise stormed over there to find a towel-clad Ai preening at the mirror hanging on the inside of her locker, running the brush through her hair over and over. "Thanks for your present."

Smirking a little, the girl didn't even glance over. "I'm sure I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Yeah? You don't recognise it?"

Everyone gasped when she threw it onto the bench nearest Ebihara. That was nothing compared to the chorus of disgusted noises that followed once its foul stench began to pervade the air within the steamy room. Even still wrapped in the plastic bag, it was horrendous.

"Oh, GOD," Ai joined in, though she was chuckling just a little. "Why would you be carrying that thing around? Just to throw at me like that?"

"Why?" she demanded. "This has crossed the line from mean to just… weird! What's the point of stinking up the classroom?"

Full of false innocence, she pressed a hand to her chest as she said, "Why, I don't know. Sounds to me like someone just forgot to throw away her lunch. Maybe you should be a little less wasteful. Then again, as rich and famous as you are, I bet you don't care at all."

A ripple of murmurs spread throughout the room. Rise knew that they didn't really care about the sandwich, or about wastefulness, but they were highly concerned with this argument between two students playing out right in front of them. Gossip fodder. So she decided not to give them any more ammunition.

"Okay. We'll just throw it away." She snatched it off the bench and flashed Ai a poisonous smile. "Have a lovely day, Ebi-chan."

"Don't you mean Ebi-kun?"

Rise stopped dead in her tracks. She actually looked around for what assholes had said it, determined to give them a dressing down. Even if they were fighting, nobody got to talk about her friend like that. But she realized it had come from Ai herself. "What?"

"You were one of the people that started the rumour, right?" She looked so haughty, arms folded over her chest and hip cocked to one side. "So I'm surprised you let it go that easy."

Deciding to play along, she smirked and shot back, "I heard you showed off the goods to some other girls and it proved it was false."

"Yeah. But since when do people like you care about facts? You would much rather be right than the truth prevail."

"People like- okay. Whatever this is, whatever you want from me, I'm done with it. I thought we could try to be adults and move on, but all you want to do is start a war — one I'm not interested in fighting. Just leave me alone if you really can't stand me this bad, okay?"

Ai laughed and took a step forward. "Rise-Risette, the gossip-monger. And now, the cheater! What terrible thing are you going to do next?"

"I didn't do anything in the first place!"

"You know you did." The smile disappeared for a second, leaving her friend's features full of cold fury. But it was so brief that most of the other girls probably wouldn't have noticed; then she was smiling like rainbows were shooting out of her ass again. "And hey, if you want to try to blame me for all of it, go ahead. You might as well."

"No, that's not necessary. Maybe it's just a series of tragic coincidences."

"Uh huh. Or maybe you're just a self-destructive pop idol, a little brat who couldn't hack it in the entertainment industry, and now that you're stuck in boring old Inaba, you want attention again. Don't you see you're going about it all the wrong ways?"

So that was her game. Now Rise could see this for what it was: it wasn't just any one incident meant to slander her and give her a bad name. All of them together were supposed to paint a picture of a celebrity spiraling out of control. Rise was going to turn into the Japanese Britney Spears if Ai Ebihara had anything to do with it.

"You really want to destroy me that badly?" she hissed now that they were so close their noses were almost touching. All the girls around them were whispering and chattering, watching the drama intently. The rub was, they were gossiping so much about what they were saying that they couldn't even actually hear what they were saying.

"You can bet on it. I told you I was going to, unless you destroy me first. And I think you will. I think you are exactly the kind of person who will shoot in self-defense."

"That isn't me," she breathed, glancing down at Ai's body. It was so close to her own… she couldn't help looking, couldn't help feeling flustered even though they were fighting right now. "We both know that. You're just mad I messed up, and you won't let me apologize, and you won't leave it alone. There's nothing else I can do."

"Yes there is." Then she hiked an eyebrow slightly, lowering her voice to barely a whisper. "What? What are you looking at?"

"Nothing. Just… trying to figure out what to-"

"You were trying to figure out if you could see my dick. Weren't you?" As Rise felt her brow furrow, Ai chuckled and pressed on, "Do it. Go looking."

She could feel her temper flaring hotter. It was getting hard to control. "Stop being so gross. I wouldn't do that, I haven't done that, and I'm not going to do that."

"Why not? Come on… all you have to do is rip this towel off me. Show the world. Maybe I'm tucking again, maybe I'm not. But wouldn't that be great if you exposed a scandal in the women's locker room? Risette the Hero, saving all these poor girls from the freak."

"You know — you know I have never once in my life called you a freak, why do you want me to hurt you so badly? What do you get out of it? Are you some kind of psycho masochist?!"

"Sure! Go with that. Even more reason to save everyone. Do it." No movement. "Clock's ticking. The longer you wait, the weirder it's going to be that we're standing here whispering to each other."

But Rise's mind was racing. She still had no idea really why she was pushing so hard for her to attack, to be so vicious. She thought back to the revelation she had when walking home — about Ai, about what these attacks meant for their relationship. And when she thought of it that way…

Everything came together. Of course, nothing was for certain until she heard it straight from the horse's mouth, but now Rise thought she understood the reason her former friend was trying so hard to get her to treat her like vermin.

"No," she whispered with a small smile.

"No? Aww, I guess the games continue then," Ai said with a fake, exaggerated pout. "You're going to have to be a lot tougher than that to make it as a star."

"Actually… let's play a new game. Unless you want to give up now?" Her pleading face returned. "Please, please just stop. I'll leave you alone if that's what you want, or we can go back to being friends and… try to put this behind us. But I'm not giving up, not going away. So…? Maybe?"

Ai shook her head. "This isn't your game, you don't get to change the rules, princess. So nice try."

"Fine," she sighed… before sliding her arms tightly around Ai.

"H-hey!" she burst out. Then a little louder, "Oh my GOD, now Risette is trying to molest me!"

Before the gasps really had a chance to deepen, Rise sobbed, "I'm sorry! I didn't mean to hurt you, I just… I just love you so much Ai, a-and when you… when you pulled away, I didn't know what to do! Can't you forgive me?"

Even the girls who weren't watching before were glued to this scene now. And even though she could tell Ai didn't like losing control of the situation — hated might have been more apropos — she still drew back to gape at her.

"What… did you just say?"

"I asked you to forgive-"

"Cut the bullSHIT!" she snapped loudly enough that one smaller girl yelped and fell back on her ass, scrabbling for the nearest bench. "You can't mean that. Not in front of all these people, you… they'll know you're- if you say how you feel, that's…"

"I don't care about them! I love you, Ai, I… I didn't mean for us to end up this way!" Her bottom lip wobbled hard as she took a shaky breath. "But if you really can't forgive me, I'll understand! I just… I can't go on with us hurting each other like this!"

"Oh, this is so not going to work," she scoffed… until she saw a few of the girls putting their hands on Rise's shoulders, comforting her as the big fat tears rolled down her cheeks. Offering tissues, petting her hair. "Are you- wow, you guys can't be buying this! It's an act!"

"Hey, don't be so mean!" said some girl with bobbed hair; Rise thought her name was Matsunaga, but she couldn't remember at the moment. The moment Ai's gaze was on her, she said much more quietly, "S-sorry."

"Oh my GOD. Fine. Whatever, I'm out of here."

But a wall of girls blocked her way. They were all glowering at her now, looking ready to throw down; they would never have challenged alone but there was safety in numbers. Ai's eyebrows shot up, unimpressed… but the more she looked at all of them, the more anxious she appeared. Not frightened, just uneasy from the attention. The constant attention, while wearing a towel… prospect of a fight… she backed into a corner and they started to advance on her. This would get seriously out of hand if someone didn't step in.

Someone stepped in.

"Please, just give me another chance," Rise provided smoothly as she slid forward through the throng of girls, taking up Ai's hand — which was immediately yanked out of reach. Her voice was taut with emotion as she pleaded, "That's all! I'll show you I can be a better friend, a-and those pranks? Forgotten! And I won't ever tell another lie about you again, I promise!"

Ai took another good look around at the student body standing in opposition against her. The wheels were turning behind her eyes. Then she glared down at Rise with a shake of her head. "You… conniving… snake," she muttered.

Some of the girls heard it, and looked more scandalised. And because now everyone else was behind her… Rise felt comfortable allowing a smug, triumphant smirk to take over her features. Just for an instant. She even mouthed a few choice words:

"You only have one way out."

Oh, she had never seen Ai look that angry before. This wasn't just annoyance or rage. She looked murderous. But it only lasted a second before she sighed, shut her eyes, took a breath.

"Rise… fine. I know… I went too far. Can you forgive me?"

"Wow, really sounds authentic," one of the others closest to the lockers scoffed.

"No, really." When Ai opened her eyes again, she was smiling weakly. "I have missed you. I just didn't know… I was so angry when you started that nasty rumour."

"I know. It was a stupid mistake! And I will spend the rest of my life making it up to you, if you just… take me back! That's all you have to do." She took both of her hands, ignoring the way nails were digging into her own. Petty little revenges were par for the course now. "Just be with me."

One could hear a pin drop in that locker room. Ai pulled her close and whispered softly, "You want to play this game? We're playing it on a national level."

"Bring it on," she replied in kind, smirking again — even while her heart pounded in her throat from the closeness. "But c'mon, I beat you this round."

"Shut up."

Such a chorus of "WHOOOOO" went up when they kissed that it felt like they were shaking the foundation of Yasogami High. Probably because, metaphorically as well as literally, they were. Game-changer indeed.

                                          To Be Continued…

[theunmappedstar]

You should do some Blind!Keefe headcannons! But there's more: Blind!Keefe headcannons.... and make it SoKeefe

...i think y’all have figured out that the magic word to get me to do anything is ‘sokeefe’.

well, here goes nothing.

Sophie’s a big part of Keefe’s support after the head trauma incident that causes him to go partially blind. She sticks with him in the Healing Center while he’s unconscious and stays with him when he wakes up and comforts him when they discover what happened.

Elwin offers elixirs and possible treatment options, but Keefe denies all of them. He knows his life won’t be made miserable by the impairment. He knows that he can get along with his life and live it normally. But... it’s also a little scary, if he’s being honest.

Sophie and Elwin listen to him intently while he talks about it, pointing out his concerns. Sophie holds his hand all throughout it, noticing the way his eyes remain shut. She knows it’s probably not her business and it could be offensive to be curious, but she wonders if his eyes have clouded over like she’d seen humans do with cataracts. She wonders how he sees things, since they know his blindness is partial and his vision isn’t fully lost.

Elwin leaves the room at one point to make a few calls, so Sophie and Keefe are left alone on the cot together. Keefe leans his head on Sophie’s shoulder. She makes sure to hold his hand in a secure grasp, letting him know she’s there. She wants to talk to him, but she’s unsure of what there really is to say. She’s unsure of how he’s feeling about it, too. He seemed disappointed and she could imagine he was terrified, but there had also been something strong and steady in his shoulders during Elwin’s briefing on how his life would continue to move forward, from then on. He had seemed... peaceful. Ready.

Sophie swallows. She works up the courage to ask him what he can see.

Keefe doesn’t answer right away and she’s scared that she pushed too far too soon, but Keefe eventually replies, informing her that what he can see just manages to look like a blur of smudgey colours and blinding light. His peripheral vision is entirely gone, too.

Sophie doesn’t quite get it. Keefe feels it. He sits upright, taking his head off her shoulder, eyes remaining closed. And he offers her to look at his most recent memory.

Sophie blinks at him at first, unsure of whether to decline or accept. He’d opened his eyes briefly when he’d woken up and had tensed shut not long after - that had to be the memory he wanted her to look at.

It takes her a bit to process what her decision is, but she manages to accept.

She places her fingers on his temples. Their minds pool together like ink.

When she sees the memory, it turns out that Keefe was right. It was just a mash of colour. The memory looked like he was peering at the world through a stained glass window. Sophie couldn’t even recognize that it was the Healing Center - not unless she focused really hard. And his entire peripheral vision was. . . Totally absent. Erased from existence.

Sophie doesn’t get the chance to dwell on it because her head flashes with pain at the severity of the light Keefe sees. She winces as memory Keefe’s neck aches and his eyes sting from the light. The throbbing in his head cools when his eyes close.

Sophie replays the memory once more. Then she leaves his head in silence. They don’t say anything to one another for a bit. They just sit and listen to Elwin calling people from the other room.

Minutes later, before Elwin returns, Sophie softly promises to help Keefe readjust when he’s discharged. Keefe’s mouth tickles with a smile for the first time since he’d woken up. He gives her hand a squeeze.

Despite Sophie promising this, she didn’t actually expect him to call on her a lot. (Keefe tended to be pretty reclusive when it came to vulnerability.) So, when she gets back to Havenfield and receives twenty or so hails and messages on her Imparter, it’s safe to say she’s more than a little surprised. Not only because it was so soon - she’d only departed the Healing Center and dropped off Keefe at the Shores of Solace around an hour before - but also because... it was a little staggering, having him immediately ask for help when he needed it. But it was nice to see him let his guard down, nonetheless. (Keefe always had trouble with admitting when he needed help, but after his vision loss, he seemed to appreciate her presence more.)

Sophie spends the majority of her days helping Keefe readjust to his new lifestyle. One of the big things that they work on together is re-learning the layout of his house; and Keefe’s photographic memory really serves as an aid. It helps him retain the layout of places much faster so that he can easily navigate them without his sight. Of course, there are still some bumps in the road while figuring out the layout of places - namely the fact that he doesn’t enjoy stumbling around feeling for everything while trying to make a mental map of it.

Sophie also quizzes him on the layout of a room and he has to get it right before they can leave and move on to the next.

Keefe hates it.

But... he is also very thankful that she sticks around and helps out. (And even if the situation starts out as frustrating, he really appreciates getting to hear her giggle every time he bumps into something and swears.)

Another thing she helps him with is setting up and installing a spectral mirror. He never really considered it until the morning after his discharge, but he quickly finds it’s a little difficult to pick out an outfit to wear.

With the help of Dex, Sophie picks out a mirror she thinks Keefe’ll vibe with and they get it set up in his room. Keefe takes pretty well to the new friend (even if it’s a mirror bossing him around on what to wear. But, hey, who is he to argue? He can’t really see.)

Even with all that, however, doesn’t mean Keefe isn’t independent. He took it upon himself the moment he got out of the Healing Center to begin to re-learn how to go about daily activities under the laws his new normal circumstances. Keefe learned braille very quickly, figured out a way to cook on his own (Sophie was horrified when she first found him baking unsupervised), got a support cane and got adjusted to purposely breaking some of Cassius’s potted plants and decorations with it walking around with it, and a lot of other things.

Since Keefe can no longer see the people that enter the room or that address him, he learns to identify them by their voice or by cues they bring up in conversation (such as if they reference the last time they met or a conversation they last had). Keefe identifies people by their voice easily, but he doesn’t exactly need it for Sophie. She doesn’t seem to realize she’s given him multiple ways to identify that it’s her entering the room - and one of them happens to be her charm bracelet.

He first noticed that it made a lot of tinkling on her wrist back when he had his vision. The loss of sight didn’t improve his hearing at all, so it wasn’t like the noise was keener or anything, but it did make him more aware of the sounds around him. As a result, he notices the little things more often: like her bracelet.

Keefe won’t admit it, but he’s grown to enjoy the little jingling it makes on her wrist as she talks with her hands (he assumes she’s talking with her hands, at least. It begins to make a ton of noise when she’s talking) and he likes the little clack it makes when it comes in contact with the marble countertops in the kitchen as she prepares them a snack. He swears that his brain has been conditioned to associate happiness with that sound (I mean, it’s attached to Foster, so. What can he say?)

It goes without saying that since he lost his sight, touch is a lot more intimate and important to him. He had always been a touch-starved kind of person and he loved the physical affection he got, but now that craving had been amplified to double what it was previously.

Keefe doesn’t really beat around the bush for hugs, anymore. Or hand-holding. Or anything touchy. He’ll upfront ask for whatever it is he wants.

Sophie has yet to turn him down.

The first time Keefe asked for something, it was. . . A little more sheepish than what Keefe’s usual rhythm was. It wasn’t snarky and it wasn’t smooth and it wasn’t really a question at all; more of a bargain.

Sophie had been helping him to learn to re-navigate the living room in the Shores of Solace, letting him plot out his mental map, when he’d tried to strike a deal with her.

It was simple, she had to give it to him. Really simple, actually. She didn’t even have to sacrifice anything.

If Keefe got the layout right on the first try when she quizzed him, he wanted a dance with her in return - around the room, of course.

Keefe played it off as an excuse for “more efficient plotting” of the room.

Sophie was very glad he wasn’t able to see her blush. (Still, that didn’t stop him from feeling the butterflies tickle her stomach.)

Sophie agreed. 

In the end, Keefe did soar through her quiz with flying colours: which meant she owed him a dance.

Sophie stalled for a little bit, saying she needed to get her iPod to put on music so they’d have a beat, but once the melody started playing. . . Keefe had to admit it was a nice touch.

It was. . . a little awkward at first. Sophie was really fussy. Keefe swore all of her nerves had been set on fire. But a minute into it, Sophie had relaxed - for the most part. The butterflies in her stomach managed to do a few backflips every time he readjusted his hand on her waist or the small of her back.

He really, really enjoyed holding her waist like that or slipping his hand over the small of her back. She felt. . . So. . . Close to him. And not just physically.

Sophie seemed to agree, even if she was nervous all through it. Time flew past them and they didn’t know how many times the song had started over and replayed itself. With each passing minute, their limbs grew more relaxed and they melted into one another. Sophie wound up resting her head on Keefe’s chest.

Keefe tried not to let the pounding of his heart get too loud, fearing she’d hear it. Then she laughed.

“We haven’t done much plotting of the room. We’ve been in the same place for awhile.”

Keefe laughed back. “I think I like swaying more than plotting, don’t you?”

“Mm. I think so,” she agreed softly. Then he could feel her heart doing that beautiful flutter-thing again. And he smiled.

It was over too soon. He prayed to the universe that he’d get the chance to do that again soon, the moment she slipped away from him and the music turned off.

Keefe had loved it more than he would ever admit to her face (for fear of her becoming so flustered that she vow to never do it again.)

Another thing Keefe loves is cuddling. It doesn’t exactly matter where they are; Keefe tries to get in some cuddle time with Sophie. Sophie’s a little flustered every time his hands meet her waist or brush against her arm and he tries to tug her closer, but she happily embraces him.

Keefe likes being the big spoon and the little spoon equally. However, he most often goes for being the little spoon - namely because he likes to hear Sophie’s soft breathing and her heartbeat. He listens to it thumping steadily, nuzzles his face against her chest, and lets the pitter-patter drift him off to sleep. He really likes getting to cuddle up under her chin and snuggle his face into the crook of her neck and hear her laugh softly in a breathy exhale through her nose. He likes feeling the vibrations in her chest and throat as she talks to him in whispers.

Keefe swears he gets a jolt of serotonin whenever Sophie runs her fingers through his hair.

Sometimes Keefe does get a little sad that he can no longer see. It’s frustrating because he knows what’s now absent and he can’t do some things the same as before (like drawing, for example).

One time Sophie was with Keefe and she noticed he was looking down. It took a few tries, but after repeatedly asking for him to admit to her what was going on, he told her he wished he could still see her.

Once her surprise wore off (which took a bit of time), she stood from their seats and took his hands.

“Where are we going?”

“To the bathroom.”

“Why are we-”

Sophie stood in front of the mirror with Keefe at her side for a second. When she asked him for permission to enter his mind, he let her in without a second thought. And she transmitted a memory to him.

It was her and him, only a moment before, standing in front of the mirror. And he could see her - through her own eyes, of course, since it was her visual memory. She smiled and waved at the mirror.

Keefe’s chin trembled as he watched memory Sophie tug him closer to her side by his hand.

He may or may not have teared up a little.

In spite of the fact that Sophie knows Keefe can maneuver really well all on his own, she became very tempted to get him a little companion. And it took a few weeks, but she gradually gave in to the urge and got Keefe a guide dog, of sorts.

Lodestar (Lodie, for short) wasn’t really that much of a guide dog, if they were being honest. Keefe got around good on his own - and he had a cane as a backup, anyways. Lodie did, however, end up being an important companion to Keefe.

Keefe takes Lodestar e v e r y w h e r e. You don’t see him without that dog. They’re inseparable (it’s precious, honestly.)

The rest of the gang most definitely doesn’t mind the puffball trailing along during group hangouts, though.

Now that Keefe can’t see facial cues or read body language, he’s pretty afraid of having no way of knowing when people are angry at him. So, if he suspects that someone’s in a bit of a sour mood because of him, he’ll softly ask to hold their hand. (He wants to sense their emotions to make sure they aren’t mad. And if they are, he tries to make it up.)

(Though, let’s be honest: anytime he gently asks to hold someone’s hand like that and looks all squirmy, they don’t really stay angry.)

[seungminotes]

Accident - Prone

enemies to lovers/ almost-lovers with Hwang Hyunjin

A/N: this took so long and I don’t think I’m even happy with the result. I hope you like it though, anon

Warnings: 1.5 k words | kinda slow | potential part two? | not proofread

Hyunjin is literally the worst luck charm ever. Everywhere he goes is just a natural disaster around you. 

No matter what, always end up getting physically hurt. 

Whether it was a flying soccer ball to your nose, that awful chemical burn in chem after you two were partnered together once, the spilled water on your favorite blouse... the list goes on and on. 

After so many unlucky occurrences, you had finally decided Hyunjin was just the equivalent of seeing a black cat

A warning sign of impending doom. 

Okay but, perhaps he was just dramatic and clumsy

 the thought never really occurred to you that this boy was just made like that. 

You only figured: you plus him in a room together was not the best of ideas. It just could never end well.

 You swore you two could’ve been mortal enemies in a past life or something. 

These occurrences had just become so frequent that at one point, you naturally despised the lanky boy. 

Though quite unreasonable of you, you simply wanted nothing to do with him. 

Hyunjin on the other hand, had no ill feelings towards you. 

No, those ill feelings were rather reserved for himself whenever he somehow managed to ruin your day over and over again.

 He partially blamed his lack of coordination, but then he remembers he’s a dancer and had rather impressive coordination in comparison to most other people. 

Maybe that was saved for dancing though, maybe somehow those skills dissipated offstage and outside the practice room.

Orrrrr just maybe... it was just around you that he became so flustered, the human embodiment of a hot mess, that he could not function or even move accordingly? 

Whatever it was, he felt utterly sorry for every encounter you’d ever had with him. 

At some point he had tried to very actively avoid you in hopes of sparing himself the embarrassment of yet another disaster. 

He always made sure he and his friend group were situated as far as possible from you in the cafeteria during lunch.  

If he saw you walking down a hallway, he’d always be sure to turn the other direction. 

Heck he’d run into you only a certain amount of times before he had memorized your routes and just avoided those altogether. 

He very secretly cared for your own safety… from himself.

Which wasn’t the most romantic of things 

Which was reasonable, right? 

You could probably never have a romantic connection with someone with which nothing could ever go right. 

But why did that notion disappoint him so much??? hmmm

Hyunjin probably shouldn’t want to get any closer to you, that’s exactly why he drew an imaginary boundary 

And his plan proved to be more than effective with time. 

That at least it was…

Until Kim Seungmin, his own very best friend, decided to befriend you after a photography project you’d both worked on. 

Ever since then, you two had been practically inseparable…

 leading many to believe in a  prospective couple. Oop

Hyunjin typically just annoyed the thoughts of other surrounding the topic of you and Seungmin though, not that it bothered him per say

Anywayyyy 

Seungmin now sat with you on the other side of the cafeteria. 

Even after his long protest for you to go sit with his other friends, you couldn’t quite bring yourself to be in harm's way that close to Hyunjin.

“They’re not mean or anything, y/n,” 

“I didn’t say they are, I just don’t know them that well, it would be awkward,”

“Well how  can you get to know them if you won’t even sit near them,”

Okay so maybe at this point your feeling a bit guilty towards Minnie who is sacrificing some time with his best friends to sit with you now 

But as you glance towards his group of friends on the other side of the room, you couldn't help but get nerves from the sight of Hwang Hyunjin

Seungmin notices the change in demeanor in your face after you take a peek over there 

He thinks he;s just uncovered the mystery of the century 

“I saw that!”

“Saw what?”

“That passive aggressive glare you just shot my friends, which one do you hate?

“Seungggg, it’s nothing,”

“I bet it’s Jisung, he’s so loud, not really your type”

“I think Jisung is nice, drop it.”

“Hyunjin?”

The very mention of his name makes your face drop

Seungmin of course catches it 

“Knew it” 

So this leads to a very detailed retelling of every horrible occurrence that has happened to you in the presence of his friend

“You’re being stupid, he just has butter fingers” 

“You must have a butter body to mess up that much”

“Never say that phrase again, I didn’t like the mental image”

“Oh shut up”

Luckily the bell rang just in time to bring the convo to a close 

but as you both get up to throw your trays away Seungmin ultimately gets the last word

“You're sitting with us tomorrow”

You may or may not have pouted all the way to English with him afterwards 

Nothing really works on Seungmin though

Snake

So the next day, you’re sitting at lunch with all these guys you don’t know very well

But Min makes sure to introduce you well and they’re all super inclusive of you 

He even made sure you and Hyunjin sat on opposite ends of the table

Not that it even mattered though because Hyunjin was unusually quiet 

He really didn’t even look at you … 

Which didn’t bother you that much

Though it did make the atmosphere a bit tense when he was spoken to and wouldn’t really listen

He seemed super out of it

At least until he completely knocked over his carton of milk onto Felix’s tray

He cursed under his breath, because trust me he knew something would happen in the time span of half an hour that you were sitting this near him

Your breath hitched for a second because you were lowkey scared something was gonna happen soon

One of his natural disasters

But oddly enough, nothing really came towards you

Hyunjin got up to go scavenge for some napkins 

And lunch was soon nearing its end 

Meaning, you had spent a full 30 minutes near Hwang Hyunjin and remained unscathed 

Who would have thought?

Seungmin, that’s who 

He made it very clear too

His little “told you so” as you were getting up to throw your trash away

Unfortunately for you though, the nearest trash can appeared to be directly behind Hyunjin

Who by now was trying to clean up the mess of milk he made on the table

Considerate guy huh

“Y/n, hurry up we’re gonna be late” Seungmin urged 

What could go wrong if you just ….

Walk behind Hyunjin for like 3 seconds??

A lot more than you’d expect to be honest

In those mere three seconds Hyunjin has managed to turn around, trip you, and hit you on the side of the head with his outstretched arm clutching wet napkins

Cue Seungmin cracking up

And mortified Hyunjin

“Are you ok? Shoot I didn’t see you, are you good?

Your head lowkey panged but his worry was kind of unexpected …

And kinda maybe very adorable???

Uh oh

You get up and assure him you’re just fine

He kinda just scratches the back of his neck awkwardly

“I think I hurt you a little too often.”

“I’ve noticed,”

“I swear it’s not intentional or anything though”

Seungmin can’t take this atmosphere, he dips quick

He also can’t afford a tardy which you are obviously gonna get if you keep standing there staring up at this guy

You of course take notice that this awkward moment is taking a bit too long 

But something is really keeping you glued to this spot and it may or may not have to do with the warm worried eyes staring down at you

“I think Seungmin left you,” Hyunjin nods his head to where your friend was previously waiting for you 

“Little snake”

The little sound that Hyunjin made trying not to laugh kinda made you giggle

And oh no 

Hyunjin found that way too cute for his own good 

He decides to walk you to English, he knew the route pretty well, go figure

He does keep his distance though

After he drops you off at the door, you’re already late and so is he of course

But he waits for you to go in before sprinting to his own class

Almost like walking you home after a date 

When you excuse yourself into class, Seungmin is smirking at you from your shared desk 

“And I thought you hated Hyunjin.”

A roll of your eyes didn’t make him any less smug though.

[yet-another-saberface]

Story Headcanons: Prologue

This will be the first and probably shortest in the series of posts I’m going to be making about Eva! I may further develop on these later in a more fic-like format, but for now I like them in this simple list style, so we’re going to run with that! This post covers the entire prologue, and after this I’m going to go through each singularity in order, probably with the events thrown in as well. I’ll likely be breaking everything up with other posts about specific characters or short stories when I get the drive to do so! I’m going to try to keep these story posts broken up for a bit, since I’m a little behind on the story of EoR & the Lostbelts, but by the time I get through these hopefully I should at least be done with enough EoR to start writing for those sections!

Okay, here we go! Spoiler warning for the prologue I guess but I don’t know how you could have not read it at this point.

Eva flipped out in a good way when she got thrown into that first combat simulation. She wasn’t expecting it at all, but made the most of what she was given, even if it was only 180 seconds. For that short period of time, she was totally immersed in her role as a master, and couldn’t stop smiling. At the end of it, she was actually a bit disappointed that they weren’t going to keep any record of the fight, because that meant she’d never find out how well she did. That, and it meant that no one else would be aware of what skill level she was starting at. But she’d work with it.

She was a bit surprised to realize she’d fallen asleep in the hallway afterwards, but did her best to assure everyone it wouldn’t happen again. (She lied about that.) 

Had to contain the urge to squee over Fou the second she got a proper look at it. It’s just so… Fluffy. And cute. How could you not love it? When Mash mentions that it seems like she’ll end up as Fou’s second caretaker she’s very happy because of course she wants the cute fluffy fox-cat-dog-thing as her pet. She has no idea what sort of things it can eat but she wants to give it treats already. 

Is just a bit confused when Mash refers to her as senpai - she knows the meaning of the term but doesn’t understand why it would apply to her. When Mash continues to use it after learning her name, she just kind of goes with it, despite thinking that Mash is likely more capable than her, having been at Chaldea longer. 

Freely admits from the get-go that she has no formal training as a Master. She tries to back up that fact by mentioning her extensive theory studies but most people don’t bother to listen to her after hearing she’s a total rookie.

She initially talks back when people try to talk down to her because of her inexperience, but after a while she just starts putting up with it, preferring to show them with her actions rather than her words just how valuable she is. 

Tries desperately not to pass out during orientation, going so far as discreetly kicking herself to try to stay awake. Sadly, she fails. She’s determined to not let that happen again. If you know anything about her you know that it definitely happens again. 

Is pretty deadpan when she discovers Roman slacking off in her room. She’s already passed out two times today and been kicked off the first mission because of that mishap. Things can’t really get any worse, so she might as well try to deal with things as calmly as possible. She’s very relieved when he turns out to be friendly.

She actually manages to get back into a somewhat better mood over the course of talking to him, until. You know. Everything goes horribly, horribly wrong. 

She doesn’t hesitate at all in going to try to help when the fire breaks out. I mean, she had a vague idea of what she was getting into when she signed up to work at Chaldea, and while her instincts are telling her to run away, she knows that she can’t just leave a bunch of people there to die, including Mash. So she bundles her resolve to do everything she can to save as many people as she can and heads towards the danger. 

She blatantly ignores every time she’s told to run away despite wanting to do so, partially because she doesn’t understand the severity of the situation and partially because she’s determined that this is her chance to do something good for this world - something she feels she hasn’t gotten to do yet. 

When the rayshift program identifies her as a valid master and starts to activate, she goes very quickly from determined to panicked to feeling that high of being a master once again to panic again to resolving that she’ll work with what she’s got. She has no idea what’s really about to happen but it might keep her alive, it might keep other people alive, and it might give her chances to do more good. She’s trapped anyways, so it’s not like she’s got another option. So she just takes Mash’s hand, braces herself for whatever weird magical thing is about to happen, and hopes for the best.

Uh... Tags I guess?

@contractgreen @panyum @withanina

[crmsndragonwngss]

For the ask character meme, my boy Goku.

Imma preface this by saying that I have some opinions about Goku that might be considered controversial. I ask that you respect that my opinions are different than yours, and that I am allowed to think what I want. I do not and will not invalidate anyone’s opinions on this character or any character, and so I ask that you give me the same courtesy. I love Goku, but Goku is far from my favorite character in this series

Give me a character and I will answer:

Why I like them

There’s a lot that I really like about Goku. I like how freely and openly he loves, I like how sweet and kind and caring he is, I like his relationships with his friends and family. I like how he doesn’t offer respect to anyone just because of title or status, and I like that he is quick to give his respect and concede to stronger opponents. I like how easily he forgives too, to an extent. My favorite thing about Goku, though, is how much he loves his family. He’s not perfect, and hell sometimes he’s downright dangerously stupid, but he would and does happily give his life for the people he loves. He’s endearing and easy to love, and I truly do love Goku a whole lot, despite all his flaws

Why I don’t

Goku is actually one of the most problematic characters on the whole show for me. Just as there is a lot that I like about him, there is a LOT that I don’t like about him. As I said above, sometimes he is dangerously stupid and foolish and reckless. He routinely puts himself and everyone else in impossible situations and he NEVER learns his lesson. So many villains came about because of his misguided need to spare villains who cannot be redeemed, and his incredibly naive penchant for seeing good where there is none. Frieza and Dr Gero come immediately to mind in this regard. His sense of honor is also quite warped sometimes, one moment claiming he will never forgive an opponent for what they’ve done and ganging up on them and using dirty tricks, and the next moment offering a senzu bean to an (objectively worse) opponent in the interest of fairness. His recklessness is one of my main issues with Goku. Another serious issue I have with Goku is how everyone is so quick to praise him for saving the world, often forgetting anyone who helped or actually did more, and how heavily they rely on him to fight their battles for them. Every character is just waiting for Goku to come and save them, even when they don’t necessarily need saving. It’s infuriating. But at the end of the day, in many ways, I view Goku like I would my own child. I love him and I root for him always, but sometimes I’m just so goddamned disappointed in some of his choices lol

Favorite episode (scene if movie)

My favorite Goku moments are always the moments in which we see him being a loving and attentive father and husband. The days before the Cell Games where he spends his afternoons with Gohan come to mind. I love how he interacts with Chi Chi, and he always thinks of her first when shit gets real. But hands down my favorite Goku moment is an episode I just watched for the first time last week, when his ki is all out of whack and he and Chi Chi are helping Piccolo babysit Pan. I love how Goku interacts with Pan, and I LOVE his conversation with Piccolo on the roof. We see a very vulnerable, introspective side to Goku, and it’s so damn easy to fall in love with him all over again in this moment

Favorite season/movie

I’ll do movie for this one. My favorite movie for Goku is actually DBS Broly. I like how this movie showcases all of his flaws as well as his strengths, instead of just focusing on his strengths. This is also one of the rare moments where he doesn’t save the world soundly and decisively all on his own. He makes mistakes and he immediately gets punished for them, and I really appreciate that.

Favorite line

“YOU FOOOOOOL!!!” I also like any time he says anything that lifts Gohan up

Favorite outfit

I do like that jacket when he and Gohan are just walking around in SSJ lol, but I think my favorite outfit is what he’s wearing in the driving school episode. He looks so good in casual clothes, and I wish he’d wear them more

OTP

Gochi. I’m very partial to canon ships lol, but I also just really don’t ship him with anyone but Chi Chi

Brotp

Goku & Vegeta

Head Canon

Interestingly, I don’t have any head canons for Goku in particular. Everything I think about Goku is either canon or based entirely on canon. One head canon I guess I have is that I personally think he is ace, which I’ll detail below in the unpopular opinion section

Unpopular opinion

I do not view Goku as a particularly sexual creature. I think of him as ace. He loves Chi Chi and he has sex with her because he knows that it’s something she enjoys and he likes being close to her, but I don’t think he seeks out or initiates sexual interaction or intimacy. This is actually why I’m not a kakavege shipper. I do think there is definitely a great deal of sexual attraction and tension on Vegeta’s end (that man wants Goku so bad, and that’s basically canon), but I don’t think that Goku feels the same way. He likes Vegeta, and he admires and cherishes him, but I don’t think he’s particularly sexually attracted to anyone. That said, I do not begrudge kakavege shippers, and depending on the artist/author/creative, I do enjoy kakavege on occasion (what self-respecting individual who is sexually attracted to the masculine form WOULDN’T be into two hot, immensely powerful dudes tearing each other’s clothes off and fucking each other’s brains out????), but it is not something I actively ship

A wish

I just want Goku to learn for once lol

An oh-god-please-dont-ever-happen

That he makes some reckless mistake that ends in real permanent damage to any member of his family (though obviously in DB there are no real, lasting consequences lol)

5 words to best describe them

Sweet, gentle, naive, himbo, and reckless

My nickname for them

Dumbass mostly lol