#ALSO SHE KEEPS MAKING REFERENCES TO PERSONAL THINGS I SAID ON MY BLOG BEFORE I BLOCKED HER

[lime-bloods]

I honestly didn't ever expect that I'd be in the position where I'd be using this blog not just to analyse what has come before in Homestuck, but to look toward the comic's future and do some real old-fashioned theorycrafting. but the time has come. so here goes; lime-bloods' Beyond Canon theories as of the July 6th 2024 update:

Vriska's Going to Hell

were all gonna help you! / whether you like it or not

a select few eagle-eyed readers already noticed that the sound used in last month's (Vriska: Figure shit out yourself.) is called "hell_tierwav". while it was easy to dismiss this as irrelevant composer shenanigans at the time, it's now become clear exactly what this was foreshadowing. whether it would be more apt to call this "Hell" or "Purrgatory" is probably up for debate - but whatever you call it, Vriska's been placed in a dimension seemingly tailored specifically for her personal torment.

while Vriska characteristically interprets the recreation of her childhood home as a symbol of how badass she was, the ghosts of her past - both literal, as the shades of the trolls she killed as Mindfang, and figurative, in the form of sprites wearing the faces of her dead friends - show us in no uncertain terms that Vriska's childhood home is the stage where traumas play out.

Erisolsprite puts it succinctly with his welcome to hell, but pay close attention to what exactly we're being welcomed to: this update ends on page 665. so as of this next update, we'll be starting on page 666.

Does Homestuck Have Hell?

the exact bubble of reality Vriska's currently found herself in seems to be an entirely new construction of the likes we've not yet seen in Homestuck - but that doesn't mean this kind of cosmic torment is without precedent. because while 666 is a number with Satanic connotations in the broader cultural context, it also has a very particular meaning of its own within the world of Homestuck. indeed, the latter half of the comic almost revolves around it, culminating in a climax in Act 6 Act 6 Act 6.

specifically, this repetition of a single digit is emblematic of recursive storytelling. to summarise what you can already read about in detail in my essay The World / The Wheel: when Caliborn is 'gifted' the Act 6 Act 6 supercartridge, which he is told is an "expansion" of Homestuck, it's a trick. there is no "expansion"; he's going to be trapped in a story that never ends because it keeps dividing into smaller and smaller versions of itself forever. the only way to truly beat the devil who trapped the heroes within a story is to trap him in his own story.

that's what Caliborn's "Hell" is, and that's also exactly what the Alternate Calliope achieved in Act 7 by creating the black hole which Vriska knocked Lord English into, ending Homestuck's story - something that Calliope even hints at in this very update, when she refers to the black hole as "containment"; not an accident, but a deliberately crafted prison. black holes are a symbol of recursion and regression; being sucked into one means being forced to live out your whole life over and over again, forever. so really, this is all we ever could have expected to happen when Vriska stepped into a black hole within a black hole! the presentation of the narrative even subtly hints at this; events in Beyond Canon that take place in the black hole are enclosed (in brackets), and now events that take place in a black hole-within-a-black-hole are contained within {curly brackets}, because you should always use a different kind of brackets to differentiate nested parenthesis from each other!

it is absolutely no coincidence that when Caliborn closes the curtains on his appearances in Homestuck, thinking he's won when really he's been condemned to a hell of his own making forever more, it's with a tribute to this exact same Sweet Bro and Hella Jeff strip.

IF YOU REMEMBER JUST ONE THING I SAY, OF SO MANY GREAT THINGS SAID BY ME, THEN PLEASE REMEMBER THIS. I WANTED TO PLAY A GAME.

So What Does That Mean?

one of Beyond Canon's central missions is expanding upon Homestuck's exploration of the relationships between author, text, and audience. as discussed above, a large part of Homestuck's thesis is the evil of forcing characters to live the same lives and the same stories over and over without the chance to grow or move on, and Beyond Canon picks up on this by placing Dirk in the position of trying to keep Homestuck going forever purely to appease its fans, while the Alternate Calliope continues to oppose this ideology. and while the alpha Calliope outwardly seems not to have taken a hard position on where she stands in this cosmic battle, the question posed by her device seems to be an entirely new one: can it actually be a good thing to regress, to return to ground that the story has already covered? can this path lead to something new, rather than merely stagnation?

it's so relevant that Vriska is being confronted with the crimes of her past, not only in the form of all the trolls she was personally responsible for killing but also in the form of the exact same punishment she condemned Lord English to with her heroism - complete with the herd of horses that are always present at Caliborn's demise! but where being condemned to an eternal cycle was fitting punishment for Caliborn, someone who refuses to break free of cycles of abuse and instead chooses to enact that same abuse on the world around him... if Vriska is someone who can break free of these cycles, who can change and become a better person despite what happened to her, will this punishment have the same effect? or, as Davepeta seems to believe, is forcing Vriska to reckon with her own past and traumas exactly what will allow her to break free of that cycle?

DAVE: [...] ill just be over here in the hyper gravity chamber training to beat lord english KARKAT: WE HAVE A HYPER GRAVITY CHAMBER???

it's hard not to be struck by the parallels in design and purpose between the Plot Point and Dragon Ball's Hyperbolic Time Chamber, and not just because of the Dragon Ball enthusiasts present on Beyond Canon's writing and art teams: albeit in typically Strider-bastardised form, the Time Chamber got a shoutout in Andrew Hussie's own Homestuck (see quote above), in a reference that was even picked up on by prolific theorist bladekindeyewear at the time. for the uninitiated: the Hyperbolic Time Chamber allowed its users to train for extended stretches of time, sometimes even spanning years, while a significantly smaller time period passed in the world outside - something that is actually true of real-life black holes! and with the Plot Point's own emphasis on time, represented by the hourglass included among its mechanisms, it seems to me that an essential part of making the 16-year-old Vriska ready for the trials ahead will be giving her the time to undergo the same growth her adult friends have experienced.

considering that Beyond Canon is already playing in the Ultimate Self space, where there are levels of power beyond merely the "god tiers", it also doesn't seem too farfetched to speculate that Vriska, forced to reckon with the fact that becoming a powerful Thief of Light isn't the be-all and end-all of personal growth, will take another leaf out of Dragon Ball's book here and ascend "beyond Super Saiyan". perhaps this is even the "hell tier" so cheekily alluded to in the Plot Point flash? certainly this kind of evolution would be the perfect way to challenge Dirk's belief that the Ultimate Self is the only logical final step for a character's development.

whatever the case, I believe we can take Davepeta at their word here. I don't think it's just a joke that by the end of this ordeal Vriska Serket is going to be fucking RIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIPPPPPPPPPED!

[bratbarzal]

On Your Side (NH13) / Chapter Five

Pairing: Nico Hischier x Fem!OC Poppy Jensen*

*I say it's an OC, it's just a name and third person POV. I use minor character descriptions because I don’t get on with writing vague reader inserts/YN for long-form, story heavy fics, but I will generally try to avoid including race and body type or really any physical descriptors. I’m always open to feedback on my writing, or how to be more inclusive.

WC: 17k (holy moly)

Chapter Warnings: I tried to sprinkle some fluffy flashbacks and smutty references later in here just to lighten the mood but this is angsty!! probably cursing I honestly can't remember, and serious warnings rn mentions of hacking/gossip blogs/blackmail/cyber bullying/nudes being leaked, talia is her own warning tbh. I tried not to make a cliched ex comes in between them plot and idk how it comes across but yeah I was trying to toe the line between it being interesting/different and then going too far and not being able to write around it which is why the plot kind of fixes itself quick and is a leeeetle bit bad but there's some unresolved bitterness in that relationship for sure lmao she has a LOT 2 say!! did I mention there's angst in here? insecurity/self-doubt and miscommunication!!! in abundance!!! but!! luke is a cutey patootie in this I wrote his part with a lil smile on my face 💖 also a ridiculous conversation about huffing glue lmao

Series Masterlist

Previous Part (Chapter Four)

A/N: ok so in the grand scheme of things this is both a filler chapter and also like a pivotal point in the story to set something later up, but when I was planning this entire fic out, the only directive I gave myself for this specific chapter was insert angst. you wouldn't believe the amount of times I've written and rewritten and gone back and forth on what's in here. it's the kind of instruction only a complete melon would give themselves and I clearly just hate myself in ways that are spooky and strange to submit myself to this kind of torture.

and I hear your cries of hasn’t this fic just been angst so far??? yes!! you may be correct!! but you don’t get a rainbow without a bit of rain hun!!! grab an umbrella!!! I promise good will come of this lmao

I'm sorry this one took so long, it's the only chapter I didn't have any kind of plan or direction for obviously and I tried to come up with so many different options for the talia plot before I landed on whatever this is, but the next one I do have some scenes written out in my plan so shouldn't be as long in between. my goal has always been a chapter a week but like I said the other day work has been a lot for me the past couple of weeks so I am genuinely sorry for making you wait!!

you guys were very fun and very kind to me after the last chapter so please please please lets keep the good vibes going come chat to me about your thoughts about the fic about the weather about anything!! 💓

Nico

When Nico and Talia had first started dating, there had been an element of excitement to the dynamic. Nico hadn’t properly dated anyone in a while - had casual flings here and there, and for the most part spent his time swallowing down his burgeoning feelings for his best friend - and there was a novelty to starting something with someone new.

He had all the intentions of building something serious with her. She was fun, got on with his friends, had ties close to home that meant he wouldn’t be putting a wedge between the two of them should he want to travel back in his breaks, and sinking his teeth into the challenges of a relationship was something that actually intrigued him.

He liked planning dates, liked buying gifts to see that buzz of joy and gratitude it would elicit, and he liked the companionship - liked having someone there when he came back from a long roadie or a tough string of games. 

He liked it so much he never really opened his eyes to the fact that Talia didn’t. 

She didn’t like the dates he planned - didn’t like the restaurants he chose, the movies he wanted to share with her, the bars him and the guys frequented. She didn’t like America, didn’t like their coffee shops, thought their pastries were packed with too much sugar, their portion sizes were too large for her ever to enjoy going for lunch, always complaining about feeling bloated and sluggish after every meal. She hated Jersey - wanted to spend all her time across the Hudson, looking down on everyone she met and everywhere they went together. She didn’t make much use of the gifts he bought her - let every bouquet of flowers die a quick, careless death, said the watch he bought her didn’t go with enough of her other jewellery and turned her nose up at every effort he made to make his apartment feel more like her home. 

She wasn’t all that comforting when it came to companionship, either. Rolled her eyes when he came home aching and exhausted, went out without him on the days he was coming back from a roadie and returned home when he had long retired to his bed. She would always want to meet up with her girlfriends instead of hanging around the team, and only ever wanted to come to games if she could bring her own entourage - mostly to show off her connections and hardly ever to actually support him.

And so, despite the initial attraction, despite the excitement that first came with their blossoming relationship, Nico can only look at Talia with disinterest and frigidity now.

He barely greets her as he opens the door to his apartment, moving aside to let her in and waiting for her to trudge her small case in behind her before he closes it, leaning against the surface and watching her discard her bag and keys on the counter with familiarity.

When she turns to face him, running a hand through her hair and huffing out a big sigh, he takes in her dishevelled appearance.

Even when travelling, Talia usually takes great pride in her pristine exterior - hair blow-dried, outfit co-ordinated and steam-pressed to perfection, not a crease or stain in sight, and usually a light layer of makeup to cover the slight imperfections like the darkened under eyes and redness around her nose. This isn’t like her.

She looks like she’s been messing with her hair the whole 8 hour flight out and beyond, her eyes are rimmed-red with smudges of brown at the corners, her lips are chapped and swollen like she’s been crying, and her sweatpants don’t match her hoodie. It’s almost like she’d thrown on whatever she could find and caught the first flight out, fresh out of bed.

“What’s going on?” He cuts straight to the chase, losing all formality and courtesy. He should feel bad for his callous greeting, but she had broken up with him over text not even a month ago - she doesn’t exactly deserve outstretched arms and a warm embrace, he thinks.

“Hi Talia, how have you been, Talia? It’s nice to see you Talia.” She mocks, a frown overtaking her features immediately. “I’m absolutely amazing, thanks for caring, Nico!” Sarcasm spews from her tongue like pure venom, and his eyes practically roll into the back of his head.

Nico pushes himself off of the door, heavy footsteps leading him into his kitchen where he can make himself a coffee to get through this. His watch reads 6:05 - far too early for her antics - and rising to her nagging is only going to make things worse.

“Do you want a drink?” He asks, as he busies himself with his coffee press, unable to look at her too long without the pricks of guilt irritating him.  He doesn’t even know what he has to feel guilty about.

“I’ll get it myself,” she scoffs, venturing over to the fridge and pouring out some orange juice - her movements around his space eerily natural. She slams back most of the drink as he works out how to brew his coffee - but she sees right through him. He’s hardly ever used the press before, and he’s just doing so now to avoid her in whatever capacity he can. “I need money.”

Nico’s almost positive he hasn’t heard her right - that there’s some kind of mix up between her standard German and his Swiss - and he slowly turns to properly face her, brows slanting into a deep frown as he assesses her expression.

She has a hand on her hip, her jaw set and her eyes darkened and serious. 

“You have money.”

Talia comes from money - her father is some kind of film producer and her mother an artist, if Nico remembers correctly - and she makes good money, herself. She’s been a print model since she was scouted in some market in Munich since she was 15, has had her face plastered in ads in magazines and catalogues around the world. She’s hardly strapped for cash. She gets things gifted to her by whatever company she can get a hold of. What could she possibly need him to give her money for?

“Not enough.” Her tone is cold, her demeanour the same, and if Nico can still gauge her emotions correctly, there’s an element of blame that she is starting to shift towards him, and his whole body starts to feel tense.

“Not enough for what?”

He can’t quite tell what feeling washes over him - worry, at the thought she’s gotten herself into some kind of trouble, stress, at the thought this could be a recurring thing, and potentially pity, at the way she’s so clearly carrying the weight of something heavy - something she’s lugged all the way across the Atlantic on a long haul flight with her.

“Not enough to pay the guy who’s blackmailing me not to leak the videos that I sent to you.”

“What vide-“ he bites back, and the immediate arch of her brow tells him all he needs to know. “Oh.”

Shit.

“Oh? That’s all you have to say?” She sneers, fury in her gaze and dismay in her tone. “You’ve ruined my life, and all I get is an oh?”

“Whoa, slow down, I’ve ruined your life?”

Nico has never been one to shame any girl for sending explicit pictures - he’d been more than willing to receive them at the time - but he hadn’t ever forced her hand. He hadn’t even asked her for them, in the first place. 

She’d taken it upon herself to spice things up, as she had put it at the time, when the team had gone on the road in early December. It was just after he’d returned from his injury - a time in which he’d spent mentally distanced from her as he’d focused so much on getting back to the game, their relationship consisting mainly of not-so-passionate sex to avoid aggravating his injury and hardly of any kind of meaningful conversation - and she had thought that keeping him on his toes on a roadie would mean he’d come back more interested than ever.

If he’d been looking out for red flags at the time, he might have caught that blaring one; needing to try new things only a few months into a relationship to keep it fun and light.

He’d been in his hotel room in Seattle, freshly showered and ready to throw himself straight into bed when his phone had started to ping. It was suggestive texts at first, are you alone? And I’m thinking about you. Then it had been pictures, hands over lingerie and fingers between glossy, pouted lips.

And then videos, one after the other before he had any chance to respond - her phone set up far enough away that her whole body was in frame, touching herself while laying on his bed and calling out for him.

He had called her instead of sending anything back, and as he realises the severity of the situation, a selfish part of him is glad he did so.

“Talia, I didn’t even save those videos, and I definitely didn’t show them to anyone else.”

Nico could never. Not only for the fact that he was raised to be a decent human being, but he has a sister - if anyone ever did that to Nina, he’d tear them apart, limb from limb. 

“You’re the only person I’ve ever sent anything to.” She seems to have made her mind up, and Nico feels as if his heart plummets through his torso at the realisation. She’s travelled all this way because she genuinely believes he’s the cause of this - that he’s shared intimate videos of her without her consent, to someone who would extort her for them. “And he sent me some pictures as proof, had information about me like the address of this apartment.”

“Talia, I swear on my mother’s life, I wouldn’t do that to you - to anyone, not ever.”

Tears well in her crystalline eyes, and Nico waits with bated breath as she assesses the situation in her head. 

He isn’t a liar - he has never given her a reason to think he is one. In their time together, he had always been honest, always been loyal, and he hopes at the very least - despite her obvious distain for him now, and how little she ended up caring about their relationship in the end to cut it off in the way she did - she thought of him as kind. 

He can do nothing but be patient, let her come to whatever conclusion on her own, and it’s only when he spots the quiver in her bottom lip that he takes an apprehensive step forward, ready to console her if needed.

She practically throws herself into his arms, wrapping her own around his waist and bawling into his chest, and all he can do is hold her and wait. He tries to rub a soothing hand up and down her back, holding the other against her head as her body wracks with sobs. All he can feel is the pounding of his own heartbeat, pulsing throughout his entire body until it’s all he can hear, too.

Nico does his best to comfort her, shushing and cooing and whispering how it’s going to be alright, but it does little to help. She’s beyond relief.

“There’s a guy who said he can track whoever is doing this to me,” she sniffles as she pulls herself away. “He’s in Jersey City Heights, he’s some sort of ethical hacker, whatever that means, I’m going to meet him and he’s gonna go through my phone.”

“Do you want me to come with you?” Nico doesn’t even hesitate to ask - if not to protect her, and make sure she isn’t unknowingly getting herself into an even more dangerous situation, then to protect himself too. If someone has Talia’s pictures, and she only sent them to him, there’s a possibility his phone had been hacked, and if this guy is as ethical as he says, maybe he can check Nico’s stuff, too, just to be safe.

She gives him an appreciative smile, eyes still glassy and cheeks flushed. “I’d really appreciate that.”

“I’m gonna shower, then we can go. You can grab whatever to eat while you’re waiting.” He backs away from her completely, only just able to acknowledge the ache in his muscles once the intensity of the situation has settled a little, and he just needs to stand under the steaming spray and clear his mind before he properly immerses himself in her company. 

He has a lot more than this whole mess that he needs to think about, and maybe a shower can bring him a little clarity on how exactly he’s going to explain himself to the beautiful girl whose bed he had abruptly left not even an hour ago. 

“Why are you dressed?”

Nico stops in his tracks.

When he had got back to his apartment, he’d made a little effort for it to seem like he’d been there all night. He’d gone through to his bedroom, mussed up his sheets to make it seem like he had been sleeping in them - and not with the anticipation that Talia was going to be entering his bedroom, but with her, he never knows - trying to retrace the steps of his usual routine before he goes to bed, he had closed all the blinds, had moved his gym bag by the door.

But he hadn’t changed.

Still adorned in his sweatshirt and jeans from the night before, the clothing feels all that much heavier on his body as she brings attention to it, and he quickly racks his brain to come up with a valid excuse that doesn’t rouse further suspicion.

“I fell asleep in these clothes.” As easy as the lie comes out, he doesn’t feel great saying it. Doesn’t feel like erasing the night he had shared with Poppy is for the greater good, even if it is just to Talia, but avoiding another difficult conversation is a must right now - especially when he’d already lied to her on the phone. “Was out late with the guys last night, Timo threw a party for my birthday.”

“Right,” she drags out, and when he turns back around, she casts a scrutinising glance over him, top to bottom. “Sorry, I forgot.”

“No worries,” he shrugs, genuinely not offended. She has no reason to remember his birthday. Not anymore. “Like I said, help yourself to whatever, I’ll try not to be long.” 

When he undresses for his shower, he’s thankful he hadn’t had the foresight to change in anticipation of Talia’s arrival. He probably would have donned a t-shirt and some shorts, oblivious to the visible indents on his thighs where Poppy had dug her nails in as she took him in her mouth.

His chest and torso are littered with scratches, some faint, some a little deeper, and he can’t get the right angle to see his back but he imagines they’re the same - the memory of her clutching at him as both of their climaxes approached is vivid enough for him to picture the marks she left behind.

He groans as the thought of her brings back that swirling feeling in the pit of his stomach, as he notices the blooming arousal pool there, and feels himself harden as he steps under the spray of his shower.

If his phone had been on do not disturb through the night, he could be in the shower with Poppy, instead.

He could have woken up to her in his arms, could have pecked at her sleep-swollen lips until it brought her out of her slumber, and spent his morning making up for lost time just like he had promised her last night. He could have made light work of the pleasure he had given her the night before - could have had her underneath him in her bed, tangled up in the mess of sheets and falling apart before they shared a morning shower, where he’d have held her up against the tiles and would’ve moved into her until they couldn’t tell where he ended and she began. He’d have made her breakfast, something sweet, so that as she sat and watched him atop the kitchen counter he had tasted her on for the first time not even 12 hours before, he’d press his tongue into her mouth after she had eaten and savour the flavour of strawberries that had settled between her lips.

Instead, he’s here, turning the temperature of his water down until any and all excitement in his body is dampened, and all he can focus on is the effect the cold has on all his other aching muscles.

Once he has showered and gotten dressed - and has come to the conclusion that any further thoughts about Poppy need to wait until the Talia problem is resolved and out of his hands, he finds his ex girlfriend sprawled across his couch, music playing from the speaker in the corner, and taking helping herself to a whole new level. 

Her case is opened where she had left it by the door, and she’s set herself a little vanity up on his coffee table, fixing her appearance before they leave.

She’s changed out of her mismatched sweats, has dressed herself in jeans and a sweater, and has found an extension cable long enough for her to plug in whatever hot tool she’s currently running through her hair.

“You take the longest showers in the history of man,” she rolls her eyes, not even casting a glance his way as she focuses on her own reflection in the little mirror she must have brought with her. “I do not want to know what it is you get up to in there.”

“I was barely 30 minutes, are you ready to go?”

“Yeah, almost,” she runs the tool through her bangs until they flick out at the edges on either side of her face, and it reminds him of all the times he had watched her while waiting for her to finish getting ready. It makes him feel uneasy how familiar it all is, how she’s so quickly made herself at home again in his space.

He wants to tell her she needs to pack her stuff back up, that she won’t be staying here and needs to give his keys back, but the weight of the situation at hand dawns on him before he can open his mouth.

He’ll wait until they get back later, his decision depending on the outcome of their visit to her hacker friend.

As much as he doesn’t want her around, he isn’t going to kick her out with no place to go if her life is still shrouded in unsafe circumstances. 

Talia unplugs her stuff, wraps the cord around the handle of the brush she was using, and places it on a mat she must have brought with her so it doesn’t burn through the surface of the table. “Kay, let’s go.”

She marches ahead of him, picking up her bag and keys on the way out and leaving him to lock up while she calls for the elevator. They wait together in silence, his heart thudding an anxious rhythm in his chest as he anticipates the arrival of the elevator - and thankfully, it arrives empty.

He tries to distance himself from her as they enter, him standing in one corner, and hoping she takes the other, but she doesn’t quite get the memo, standing obliviously in the centre as she types away to someone on her phone and he presses the button to go to the basement.

Nico watches the numbers go down with bated breath. His floor, the next, the next one after that, and he uses any good will he has left with the universe to hope and pray it skips the floor coming up - but, as is just his luck, the elevator comes to a stop with a soft thud, and the doors open to reveal the very situation he’s been hoping to avoid. 

Jack walks straight in, eyes cast down to the phone in his hands, distractedly typing away and not even noticing the button for the parking level has been pressed before he pushes it, himself.

Luke notices straight away, halting in his movements to enter the space as his gaze flickers between the two people already occupying it. 

He diverts his eyes when they meet Nico’s head dropping as he steps in and stands beside his brother, uttering a quick greeting of, “Hey, Cap.”

Jack’s attention is captured immediately, spinning at an almost dizzying speed to face his captain, phone disregarded into his back pocket. “Schao! I thought you’d be at-,”

He’s thankfully able to tune into his perception before he carries on with his train of thought, a subtle movement in his peripheral diverting his gaze to the figure stood to the side of Nico. 

“Talia. Hi.”

“Hi, Jack.” Nico cringes inwardly at how disinterested she sounds. “Luke.” Talia had never really cared for Nico’s teammates - especially not the younger guys like Jack and Luke. She was quick to pass judgement, making comments on their maturity, or apparent lack-thereof, and wasn’t the biggest fan of how close Nico was with the pair. Didn’t like the time or attention he gave them considering the close quarters they lived in, and had always been resentful. She always claimed her English wasn’t good enough to hold a proper conversation with them, but he’d seen her enough around her American friends to know it wasn’t true.

“We’re just meeting up with some of the guys for breakfast.” Jack says, cautiously, in an attempt to fill the silence. The invitation remains unspoken, but Nico can tell in the way the younger boy cocks his head and meets his eye that he’s gauging his current situation for the morning.

“We have plans.” Talia must be able to tell what he was getting at, too and Nico can see Luke’s eyes narrow as soon as the word resonates in his head. Plans. Pre-meditated. Made before she had sprung all of this on him within the last hour or two. Panic stirs within him, and his throat itches to speak the truth, but it’s just not the right time to do so with Talia stood beside him. If he starts getting defensive, she’ll start asking questions, and the boys will have to bear witness to him skirting around the matter of Poppy. 

It’s not a good look no matter which way he swings it. He’s stuck in a thick, dark, tarry mess of not wanting to hurt anyone’s feelings but making all the wrong decisions. A minefield of not knowing how to explain himself without raising a million questions on either side, and hoping one of the brothers might toe the line of the boundaries of their relationship and just straight up ask why Talia is here.

He knows he has fucked up without the way neither of them are looking him in the eye.

He knew it the second Poppy’s door had locked behind him this morning - he doesn’t need Luke refusing to meet his gaze, doesn’t need Jack’s shifting side eye to tell him he’s made a mistake. 

“I’ll text you later.” Nico says, mainly to Jack but still trying to meet his brother’s eyes with no luck. It’s an attempt to say something, without saying anything. A silent beg not to jump to conclusions about what they’ve seen - and, although he knows they wouldn’t, not to tell anyone else. Not whichever of the guys they are meeting up with, not anyone else on the team, and definitely not Poppy.

“Yeah, sure,” Jack mutters in a poor attempt to hide his discomfort, and an even worse attempt at masking his relief when the doors ping open on the parking level.

“Have fun with your plans,” Luke huffs out, his tone like a tight fist clutching at Nico’s chest despite his courteous choice of words.

“We will,” Talia forces a smile. Nico gets the feeling she isn’t as oblivious to the tension as he hopes she is.

The four of them separate into their pairs with mumbled goodbyes, Jack and Luke heading off to Luke’s car on one side of the garage, and Nico and Talia heading to his on the other, and Nico can’t even let out a sigh of pseudo-relief before Talia jumps on him.

“That was weird.”

“We broke up, they weren’t expecting to see us together.” He quickly excuses as he starts the car up, turning on the heat and hoping the soft buzz of the air will fill the silence enough that she doesn’t feel the need to talk. 

“It’s been like 3 weeks, most couples get back together after their first breakup.”

Has it only been 3 weeks? He thinks, shuddering at how little time had actually passed between her sending that text and him restoring balance to his life.

“We’re not most couples,” he shrugs, shutting that train of thought immediately as he starts to make his way out of the parking garage, ascending the ramp where the doors open up to reveal the dull beam of the winter morning sun. “You dumped me over text a week before Christmas, we’re not getting back together.”

“Oh yeah, I bet you were real cut up about it,” she jibes, sarcastically. “Probably landed straight in the bed of some desperate puck bunny more than happy to take your mind off of how awful I was to you.”

His mind immediately goes to Poppy, to last night, to her bed - and despite the complete bullshit Talia has fabricated in her head, despite how much he wants to tell her she has it all wrong, he can’t bear to twist himself even further into knots to skirt around mentioning the girl who did make him better.

“We’re not having this conversation right now.” He decides, tapping at the screen in the console of his car until he brings up the navigation. “Put in the address you need, we’re not too far from The Heights.”

The location she enters into the system is for an unassuming condo in a quiet, suburban area. The neighbourhood itself is picturesque, the buildings colourful, the paths lined with trees that seemed to flourish even in the midst of winter, and when Nico pulls up across the street, he notices the amount of families around - parents walking their kids to school and couples with dogs getting their morning steps in. It’s the last place he imagines some hacker to be shacked up, but maybe that’s the point.

He still doesn’t entirely understand the ethical part.

“It’s the one with the red brick and the balcony,” Talia points to the other side of the road as she unbuckles her seatbelt, and Nico looks over at the building as if he’s going to be able to see all the secrets stored within it.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, number 414.” She shows him the messages she has exchanged with the guy, and sure enough, the address matches up. “C’mon, the sooner we get in there, the sooner we can figure this out.”

He follows her across the street, adjusting the cap he wears atop his head and making sure it conceals his identity from anyone with eyesight good enough to catch it, trying to shrug off the discomfort of the whole situation as he waits for someone to pick up the buzzer Talia relentlessly presses.

He hears a different kind of buzz, lighter, like the manual zoom of a camera, and cranes his neck to assess their surroundings as they wait, before he catches sight of the device in the top corner of the porch, facing directly onto them.

He hears the click of a lock as soon as his eyes make contact with the thing, and cautiously tries the handle on the door until it pushes all the way down, letting them into the building. 

The door to the ground floor condo is open, and stood in the entrance is a guy no older than 20, dressed in all black with dark, beady eyes framed by wire-rimmed glasses. If Nico could find it in him to see the humour in the situation, he’d laugh at how he looks like Luke - a mop of curly brown hair, tall with a slim build and ever so slightly poor posture.

He straightens up as the two of them approach, Nico keeping Talia behind him as he assesses the safety of the situation. If they’re being lured into some kind of trap, he could definitely take this guy - he can’t even maintain direct eye contact, never mind manage to subdue a man of Nico’s stature.

“You didn’t tell me you were bringing someone, Talia.”

He’s soft-spoken, his voice ever so nasally, and despite the fact that he’s talking to the girl behind him, his gaze has settled on Nico’s chest.

“My name’s Nico.” He introduces himself, holding out a hand to shake. He thinks he can write him off as a threat, for now, and if making him feel comfortable encourages him to help them, he wants to put him at ease. “

“I know who you are.” He doesn’t shake Nico’s hand. “I’m Myles. Come in.”

Myles doesn’t wait for the two of them, marching back into his place and leaving the door open for Talia and Nico to enter and close behind them. 

Nico isn’t surprised by the space - from his brief encounter with the resident so far, it fits him to a tee; neat, impersonal, furniture that looks fresh out of a catalogue. He follows him over to the corner of his living room, a PC set up with several monitors that he can’t tell are on until they’re standing straight in front of them.

Myles throws himself down into the large swivel chair, spinning until he’s facing the two of them and crossing his arms over his torso with disinterest. “So, nudes?”

Straight to the point. Nico can’t exactly be mad at it.

Talia steps out from behind him, handing her unlocked phone to Myles. “The messages started last week, just after New Years. Straight to my number, not in DMs or anything, but the number doesn’t even come up for me to call it from another phone or anything, just says unknown.”

Myles takes her phone and plugs it into his setup without even looking at whatever she has opened on it, and Nico watches as the screens come alive with mirrors of the device and some other apps that launch as soon as it connects. 

“That’s more helpful than you think, they have to use an app to be able to anonymously text you, makes it easier to identify them.”

The way Myles talks is monotonous and detached, but the way he works is anything but. His fingers move quicker than Nico’s eyes can track on his keyboard, typing away at whatever as different things flash up and leave his screen. It like something straight out of a spy movie.

“So we can find out who it is just from that?” He asks, arms folding over his chest as he watches in almost-awe.

“Not exactly. If it is a hacker, I could identify their signature. Doesn’t mean I could identify them, but we can work around it potentially.”

Talia throws herself down on the couch behind them exasperatedly, sighing loudly and making her displeasure known. “You told me you could track them down, that’s what I’m paying you to do.”

“I told you I could help you, I didn’t say I could specifically track anyone, that’s not how this works.”

“How does it work then?” Nico asks.

Myles wheels his chair to the side to make room for Nico to get closer, and starts walking him through the process, pointing through the different apps he uses and explaining how he uses them. One deciphers which app the person used to message Talia. Once that’s been deduced, he uses another to enter a backdoor into that app’s servers, perusing through them until he finds the account that sent the text, making sure the date, time and then content line up. Once he’s found the account, he can see the other texts sent from it, and a gallery spreads across two screens, with maybe hundreds of pictures, videos, messages and transactions all to or from that same account.

“You’re telling me you have the power to do all this and you don’t use it to like rob banks or something?”

“Ethical hacker, clue’s in the name.” Myles shrugs. Nico looks back to Talia, her jaw set as she picks at her nails out of boredom. It’s probably taken about fifteen minutes for this guy to work an absolute miracle, and she looks like she couldn’t care less. “We use all this information, and the access I have on the server, to shut this dude down and cut his con before he can do it to anyone else.”

“Whoa whoa,” Talia shoots up, “Won’t that make him mad? Make him just post all the photos?”

“I doubt it,” the hacker comments, bringing up a couple of the photos on the screens, some of Talia, some of another girl, making Nico divert his eyes. “They’re not even real.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Excuse me?”

Talia and Nico both question at the same time, leaning in to get a proper look to confirm what is being told to them. The other pictures Myles had brought up, the ones of other girls, are actually kind of the same. The same poses, the same backgrounds, the same outfits, or lack thereof, just different faces and different hair.

“They’re called deep fakes. Photoshop, essentially.” He has that aloof tone to his words again, and Nico can’t quite believe how simple it seems for him to say. “They put a bunch of your pictures into an AI generator and give it instruction, like put this face on a body posed like this or wearing that. I’d assume the video they have is the same.”

“How is that even possible?” Talia gasps, pushing herself forward and snatching the mouse from Myles’ grasp. She clicks into what she assumes is the video, and it starts playing before she can think better of it, thankfully without any sound. 

It’s Talia - that much is obvious from the initial close up of her face - but Nico doesn’t recognise anything else about it. He doesn’t recognise the room she’s in, the bed she’s on, the things she’s doing. He’s never seen this before. It’s definitely not one of the videos she had sent him, and when he looks closer, he realises the little moles on her ribs aren’t even there.

None of it is real.

“You said he sent you the photos? You didn’t realise they weren’t the ones you took?” He can’t conceal the bite in his tone, his brows furrowing as he looks at her in disbelief. She’s flown out here, disrupted his peace, blamed him for blackmailing her, and she can’t even recognise what is or isn’t her own body. 

“They looked real, I-,” Her shock disappears as quickly as it had come about, her mood shifting and a glare all of a sudden being directed at her ex boyfriend. “I wouldn’t have accused you if they didn’t look real, Nico.” She snaps, frowning at him like this is his fault. “You have no idea what it’s like to be threatened like that, I won’t have you blame me for panicking.”

Slivers of guilt seep into his subconscious, and he takes a deep breath, diverting his gaze uneasily and letting out a big sigh.

He knows he should be a little more compassionate, but there’s panicking, and then there’s this.

She had accused him of ruining her life.

“What about the rest of it?” Nico asks, “Like how did he get her number or have my address? You said he had other information?”

“He did,” Talia nods, looking over to Myles.

“The address he probably got when he got your number, and he could have got that from anywhere. Could be something as small as you ordering something online and the store having a data breach, or clicking a link that shared your IP address, and getting your phone information from that.” Myles starts his typing again, keeping a tight grip on his mouse so that it can’t be snatched again. “I could probably find out actually, they’re pretty easy to spot, do you clear your history often?”

“I wouldn’t even know how to do that,”

“Perfect,” Again, his fingertips work at lightening speed, and Nico watches as instagram opens on one of the screens. “Yeah, a DM sent to you from… Devils_tea. You opened a link to a shared drive to upload some pictures, the drive probably had malware and the pictures have location metadata.”

Nico rolls his eyes, that small ebb of pity washing almost completely away, and before Talia can stop him, Myles carries on. “Some of the pictures you sent them are the ones they used for the AI photos, look your face in this one is the exact same as this photo they threatened to leak.”

Nico recognises these photos. The ones that had been plastered all over social media when their relationship had leaked. Pictures of them back in Switzerland, on a weekend trip to Ibiza, selfies of them in his apartment, and even a picture of the two of them with his parents back at his family home in Valais.

He has been far too oblivious to Talia’s games for far too long, he realises. 

Of course she had been the one to leak everything - who else would have had those photos - but he hadn’t even considered it would be her; she had faced the harshest aftermath for it, why would she subject herself to all the subsequent grief that came with people knowing about their relationship?

Thank God for this guy’s lack of social cues, Nico thinks, or he would never have known that for as long as they had been together, she had been violating his revered privacy and trust.

“Nico, that wasn’t-,” Talia’s panic is evident, wide eyes, trembling hands raised in defence, “I must have been hacked,”

“Actually, there’s no-,” Myles begins to interject, fingers working again to fact check, but Nico doesn’t need him to validate what he already knows.

“Shut up,” Talia snarls, with a finger pointed at him, “You don’t know what you’re talking about, we’re done here.” She reaches forward to snatch her phone back, yanking out the wire that connects it to his monitors and throwing it onto the desk. “We’re leaving, and if you think I’m paying you anything, you’re deluded.” 

Talia marches past them and straight out of the condo, slamming every door she possibly can behind her. Nico can only cringe as the sounds of her stomping footsteps echo until they fade out - until she’s probably outside and waiting for him back at his car.

“Doesn’t she want me to shut this thing down?”

“I’ll pay you.” Nico sighs, reaching into his pocket for his phone and trying to push down the feeling that arises when he’s met with a blank lock screen.

Poppy hasn’t messaged him. 

Not that he deserves for her to make it easy, to let him off the hook and pretend he hasn’t royally fucked things up with her.

“If you stop him, does he still have all the photos? He could still release them?”

“Yeah, but they’re pretty easy to validate as fakes, especially when you have the source material. I don’t think this guy is sophisticated enough for a full blown hack into her phone for the real thing. I couldn’t find evidence of any breach of her cloud or her device.”

Nico nods, but the information does little to quell the anxiety that squeezes his chest in a vice-like grip. 

This whole morning has been nothing but a giant waste of his time. From the second his eyes opened, to this moment right now, he’s made nothing but mistakes.

Not putting his phone on sleep mode before he and Poppy went to bed had been a mistake. Taking Talia’s call had been a mistake. Not waking Poppy up had been a mistake. Leaving without a note, without a text, leaving at all - it had all been one error after another, and all he has left to do is face up to the fact.

He can’t do anything to dwindle the panic rousing in every fibre of his being, the scarring marks left by torturous lashings of regret that whip at his skin.

He’s never felt so ashamed of himself, in such disbelief at his own decisions.

Why didn’t he just wake her?

She’s the most level-headed, acceptable person he knows. She would have understood. He hadn’t had a reasonable explanation at the time, and he doesn’t really have one now - but she would have accepted it, whatever he could have told her, she would have listened, waited until he could give her more.

He needs to see her, to explain, before it’s too late.

If he thinks about the feeling settling in his stomach, if he can compare it to anything, it’s like running from a blazing inferno of doubt and insecurity, licks of fire racing to catch up to him, the soles of his feet pressing into the sizzling ground - and Poppy is the cool embrace of safety.

She is light cracking through a window he just needs to break through to make it out.

If he can get to her quick enough, if he runs, and runs, maybe he’ll make it before he’s jiggling at a red hot handle that won’t move, won’t give, won’t budge.

If he can just talk to her, maybe the morning from hell will be outweighed by the days of resilience, weeks of efforts, years of loving her in whatever capacity, and the promise of something better.

He just needs to get rid of Talia.

The car journey back to his apartment is carried out in a deafening silence. She had tried to talk to him when he’d made his way out of Myles’ condo, when he had found her waiting by his Mercedes with crossed arms and a sour look on her face, but he’d told her he didn’t want to hear it, that they’d deal with it in private.

He hardly wanted a showdown with her in the middle of the street.

And so, she sat in his passenger seat, jaw set, glaring out the window and letting out the occasional huff or puff for attention that he wasn’t entertaining.

The elevator ride up to his place had been the same. Silent, filled with the type of tension you could cut with a knife, and all he could do was ignore her continued petulance and take deep breaths to calm himself down. In through his nose, out through his mouth, overlooking the way she tapped her foot in his peripheral vision, and almost audibly rolled her eyes every few seconds. 

“Would it have killed you to defend me in there?” She scoffs as soon as the door closes behind them in his apartment, “You just let him accuse me of all that stuff and completely invade my privacy!”

Nico screws his eyes shut and pinches the bridge of his nose.

He can’t blow up, can’t stoop to her level. He won’t feel good after the fact. He knows how Talia operates, should have known she’d immediately play the victim card, and he isn’t falling into the trap of arguing to the point of being in the wrong.

He’ll say something he regrets and she’ll use it to her advantage, somehow.

“You asked him to go through your phone, Talia.” He sighs, making his way over to the kitchen and getting himself some water. Chugging at it does little to soothe the burning feeling prickling at the back of his mouth, or the itch of his tongue to spit out a scathing retort. “He’s shut down the guy behind it, he can’t message you or anyone else with any more threats, you should be happy.”

“I should be happy?” She follows him wherever he tries to get away, crowding his space and jabbing a pointed finger into his arm. “You have no idea what I’ve been going through this past week. I thought my career was over! How was I supposed to know it was fake?”

“You didn’t even look at the pictures-,”

“Because I was panicking! I was upset, you can’t expect me to be able to recognise what’s been photoshopped when I’m scared like that!”

“But you can fly straight over here and pin the blame on me for ruining your life? You weren’t too upset to point the finger, Talia,”

“Don’t be an asshole, Nico, it doesn’t suit you.” 

“I’m being the asshole? You don’t even care about the trail of destruction you leave behind you, do you? You send private pictures of us, of me, of my family to random people online who you don’t even know, for what, Talia? For money?”

“I don’t need their money-,”

“So it was just for the attention? You get to parade our relationship around like it means nothing more to you than a title, and once you get your fifteen minutes and a few more instagram followers, you just jet back home and dump me over a text?”

“Oh my God,” she cries, flailing her arms dramatically, following him yet again as he makes his way into his living room, picking her stuff up after her that she had discarded here before they left and throwing it into her travel bag. “Stop playing the victim, for Christ’s sake, you’re hardly heartbroken over it. I know for a fact you’ve been hooking up with someone, one of the girls messaged me that they saw you leave a party with her on New Years!”

“So that’s what this is?” Nico snaps, pointing to her, to her stuff, “You think I’m moving on so you fly back out here and spring this bullshit on me, try to make me feel bad?”

“You have some nerve, Nico,” Talia scoffs, folding her arms across her chest and levelling him with a darkened glare.

“I have nerve? You’re the one who broke up with me out of nowhere and think that you can just march back here and make demands, Talia, blaming me for something that was entirely your own doing.” He’s getting sick of walking on egg shells around the topic. If she hadn’t have been messaging people she wasn’t supposed to, this would never have happened - it’s no one’s fault but her own, and as harsh as it may be, he wants to wash his hands of the whole thing. “Calling me in the middle of the night, telling me I ruined your life, saying I need to give you money?”

“Out of nowhere?” Of course she would only pick up on that, he thinks. “My God, you are so self-absorbed.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Do you think that dating you is easy?” She questions with a measured step toward him. “Do you think I want to spend my life waiting around for my boyfriend, only for him to only ever come home grumpy,” another step, “Or whiny,” and another, “Or too tired and achey to do anything? And that’s when you do come home at all and aren’t half way across the country with the communication skills of a candle. It’s a constant uphill battle trying to get even a second of your attention, Nico, so God forbid I tried to gain some kind of advantage from being with you.”

Her words are starting to cut, but he tries not to react, tries not to bite back. He can count several ways in which she gained an advantage being with him, just off the top of the head - a girl like Talia is never shy of attention. Her courting gossip blogs and sending them private information is probably just scraping the barrel of the ploys she made for exposure while she was with him.

“I didn’t break up with you out of nowhere, I put up with you and the whole circus that comes with you for months, but God, is it exhausting being with you.”

“You knew what you were getting into, Talia. You knew my job, knew my life.” They had met initially through mutual friends - hockey friends of his back home, even - and she has other friends who happen to be wives or girlfriends of athletes. She can’t say she came into the relationship completely oblivious to the downsides of dating a professional player.

“Not really,” she shrugs, “All the other guys can find some sort of balance, but not you. All the other girls get a proper boyfriend, someone who spends time doing what they want to do, who sticks up for them when their psycho fans start to turn on them, who doesn’t keep them hidden away like some dirty secret.”

“That isn’t fair, I can’t control that stuff, Talia, it’s not my fault.” He wants to point out that she was the one engaging in their gossip and riling them up, but he can’t keep harping on about something she refuses to acknowledge. He doesn’t have the time, patience or energy for it anymore.

The initial ‘leaking’ of their relationship had caused their first major fight. Fans online had somehow - although Nico can now hazard a guess as to how - found out about the two of them, had dug into Talia, her background, her family, her job, and had found some pretty toxic posts on her social media. They had been old posts, and she had told Nico that wasn’t the kind of person she was anymore - and he had no reason not to believe her, had never seen or heard her act in the ways she had online in what she called her misguided youth - but someone in the PR department at the Devils had cottoned onto the topic, and had warned Nico of speaking out in her defence when the pitchforks started to raise.

He’d told her he supported her, but he couldn’t do so publicly - not without upsetting people within the organisation he had worked so hard to gain the respect of - and she had told him she understood. They hadn’t been together that long, it would have been a little unreasonable for him to put her above his work in the ways she was expecting, but she clearly doesn’t see it that way, now.

“Maybe not, but if I’d have known that being with you meant having my life invaded, my career ruined, I never would have followed you back here, Nico.” She sounds more solemn now - regretful, even - and as deep as her words cut, she says it like a piece of advice, “I just hope whatever poor girl you’ve got tangled up in your mess this time knows what she’s getting herself into.”

“And what’s that?” His throat feels tight as he speaks all of a sudden, his resolve in defending himself fading, and he tries to gulp down whatever lump is forming there but the feeling doesn’t budge.

This is what she’s good at.

Turning the tables. Reducing him to uncertainty of himself, of his actions, of his memory of their time together.

“A one-sided relationship with a guy who will never be able to put her first.”

There’s a point in every game he has ever had the misfortune of losing, as the seconds count down in the final third, where he has to come to terms with the fact that there’s no possible way for him to win. It’s sort of comparable to the way his insides churn when he’s on a plane and it drops into descent, like his body is falling at a different speed to his surroundings, or the feeling he gets in his gut when he’s hiking, and he dares to take a peek over the edge of whatever mountainside he’s trekking up, where his body can predict the fall, and his mind has set on there being nothing he can do about it.

This feels like all those feelings.

“Whoever she is, and I know she exists, she doesn’t deserve that. It’s not fair.”

Nico’s heart pounds in his chest, echoing and thrumming in his ears until all he can hear is the beat reverberating, ricocheting around his skull.

He can put Poppy first.

So many parts of their lives are intertwined, it would be so easy to make it work. They work together, they live close, he speaks to her more than he speaks to anyone else in his circle. They’ve spent more time together as friends than he has with any other girlfriend he’s had.

He’s wanted her for years, of course he can do it.

Except, deep down, he knows he can’t. Being in a committed relationship with someone is an entirely different ball game to a friendship, no matter how close he and Poppy have been over the years.

He knows there’ll come a point soon into the season where he has to knuckle down and focus, can’t let anything or anyone distract him, and he’ll close himself off. It’s what he has always done. He gets in his head, starts to carry too much weight that he can’t shift until that final buzzer blows - and he can only hope that it happens with his team in the playoffs. Winning, thriving, succeeding. And for that to happen, he can’t prioritise anything other than the game he’s already dedicated his life to, his training, and most importantly, his team.

It isn’t about what he wants.

What have you done? He thinks, his chest aching.

Talia is right.

Poppy doesn’t deserve that.

She doesn’t deserve him only being there in the physical sense, if she even gets that at all. Doesn’t deserve him getting snappy and stressed, doesn’t deserve him not being able to give her time, or give her attention or affection like he wants to, or like she’s worthy of.

“I need to go.” He manages to choke out with a shake of his head, shouldering past her to pick up his jacket - needing to be out of this conversation and away from Talia. “Leave the keys, I don’t want you here when I get back.”

He needs to see Poppy.

He never should have left her - he wishes with everything in him that he had soaked up the time he had with her before everything came tumbling down around him. And somewhere deep within him, there is a fragile, wilting piece of hope that clings to the belief he can make things right. He just needs her to hone in on it. If anyone can reach into the deepest cracks of his insecurities, can show him he’s overthinking things and everything is not as hopeless as he has made it out to be, it will be Poppy.

Poppy

The first time Poppy had ever fallen asleep beside Nico was at a movie night in Jack’s old apartment he shared with Ty Smith. Jack had invited more people round than could reasonably fit in their living room, and so everyone was smushed in - each chair and every inch of floor space used to its full capacity. 

Nico had attempted to save Poppy a space, to give him credit. He had scowled at each of his teammates who tried to throw themselves down in the tiny slot beside him - prime space, corner of the comfiest couch, facing the tv directly, a small table to the side where one could keep their drinks and snacks - only, by the time Poppy got there, he had barely gotten away with man-spreading to make room, so the small section of the couch between Nico and the arm rest had become her designated spot.

It was cosy, to put it nicely. He had to swing his arm over the back so that she wasn’t being assaulted by the hard dig of his shoulder with every laugh, and her closest leg was pretty much on top of his for most of the film.

She’d known the guys for almost a year - had been working in media, attending every game, home and away, and had integrated herself into the group pretty closely - and she felt pretty comfortable around everyone.

It wasn’t the kind of dynamic she had anticipated falling into when she first got the job with the Devils. She was supposed to start getting serious about her life - cracking down on mingling with co-workers and throwing herself into new social circles, and focusing on building a career for herself, climbing through the ranks and attaining the kind of success and happiness she could shove in her family’s disapproving faces - but the guys had charmed her.

Jack had been somewhat relentless in his pursuit of Poppy’s friendship. He rarely took no for an answer when it came to inviting her out. He was new to New Jersey - a much younger player in a slightly older team - and his rookie season had been rough, so it came naturally to Poppy to want to provide comfort. She introduced him to some of her friends, showed him her favourite spots close to his apartment, found him a decent barber, picked up extra fruit whenever she went to the farmers market near her parent’s house and took it over to his and Ty’s place when she came back home so she could mother him into having his 5-a-day as if he didn’t have access to the best nutrition coaches in the country. Despite her best efforts, Jack had weaselled his way under her skin in the way only a brother could.

Nico’s charm was entirely different.

Nico’s charm came in the form of convenience at first - in the oh I live that way, I can drive you and I have some time, I can do some media stuff for you type of way. Convenience blended into companionship - I haven’t eaten either, we should go for lunch together and I’ve been wanting to watch that movie, do you want to watch it with me?

It turned into grabbing food together, even on days neither of them were working - breakfast, brunch, lunch, dinner, even coffee or sometimes drinks if they could meet up with the rest of the team. It turned into him spending time at her place, whether it was helping her paint her apartment, putting up her new wardrobes, or just binging whatever crazy long series Poppy had decided to start over from the beginning - she provided him with a sense of familiarity and calm he couldn’t really find in anyone else he had met in his time in the states. She became his person, his home away from home, away from home.

And he became hers. 

There wasn’t as much she had to escape; her job not as strenuous, the expectations of her not as high, but when things built up for her - when her mother became overbearing, or her latest endeavour into a relationship crashed and burned - Nico was there. He’d make sure she had a distraction, made sure she was looking after herself, and, in turn, would look after her as well. He made sure she got home safe on nights out, or when they returned from a roadie and landed late - he would always make sure to see her off into the comfort of her own home before he went back to his own. 

And that first time she’d fallen asleep beside him, he’d done the same.

He’d wrapped an arm around her to make her as comfortable as possible for as long as he could, and when the movie had finished - when her face was burrowed into the side of his chest, soft snores falling from between her lips - he gently drew her back to consciousness with his hand stroking at her cheek.

She’d been a little startled, hand shooting up to wipe at her chin and thankful she hadn’t been drooling on him - although with the easy smile he was giving her, she had thought he of all people wouldn’t have minded. 

“Movie’s done, do you need a ride home?” His voice had been low and soft as not to worsen her apparent disorientation, and his hand was still lingering by the side of her face.

She had nodded, blinking away her sleepiness, and working her way up from the couch and onto her feet, stretching out her muscles as Nico did the same.

The two of them bid their goodbyes to the rest of the guys, made their way together to Nico’s car, and he had driven her back to her apartment, chatting on the drive about work and training. 

Poppy had been cramming to prepare for her interview for the Foundation at the time - had been getting herself seriously worked up, staying up late, getting up early, barely allowing herself any time for anything fun - and Nico had seen right through her. 

He’d stopped her before she got out of the car, had held her hand, rubbing at her knuckles with his thumb, and had told her that she should get some proper rest, and that she was going to absolutely rock their world in her interview in a few days time. And, knowing she was going to ignore any instruction he gave to make herself some decent dinner and go to bed early, had ordered her favourite Japanese takeout to be delivered a good half an hour after she got inside, with a text that followed telling her to sleep straight after she had finished.

She’d never expected to drift asleep with him on Jack’s couch - had never expected to open her eyes to the sight of his looking so warmly back at her.

And she hadn’t expected the same thing this morning, because, as her eyes drifted open to the intrusive light peaking through the cracks in her curtains, it wasn’t the first time she had woken up.

The first time had been to subdued movements, a slight groan of her bed frame, and the soft pattering of footsteps leading away. It had been to a hushed voice, the creak of her bathroom door, the flush of a toilet and the uttering of a name she had hoped she would never have to worry about again.

Talia.

The rest of his words had been uttered in his own language, but that she could understand.

She had acted purely on fight or flight instinct, laying back and pretending she was asleep - although as soon as she did, she regretted it, her mind racing at the million and one other possibilities she could have gone with. Sitting up, waiting for him to come out and asking him what was going on being the most rational.

But when had she ever gone with the most rational thought?

She tried not to react as she felt his presence, felt the soft press of his lips to her skin, or the placement of her bunny in her arms. Tried not to follow him as soon as he departed her bedroom, beg him to come back and whatever was going on could wait until the proper turn of the morning. Tried not to get up and go after him when the click of the lock to her main door echoed throughout the empty apartment.

And she tried not to cry as she laid in bed, overthinking herself back to sleep, thoughts racing to the point of exhaustion, and hoping when she woke up again it had just been a god-awful dream.

But it hadn’t.

The spot beside her in bed is empty, not even a crease in the pillow to prove he was ever there - only the t-shirt of his she still adorned, the one that when she takes a deep inhale, still smells like him, and the distinct aching between her thighs.

She finds more evidence of their night together in the bathroom, where she undresses herself with sore muscles and glances in the mirror to see the spattering of purple marks forming on her chest and neck. Her fingers trace over them lightly, her fleeting touch bringing vivid images forth of his lips pressing to her skin, practically able to feel the pressure of her flesh being nipped and bitten again.

He had been so attentive to her - so in tune with what she needed and wanted, and so ready to give her whatever that may be. He’d been gentle at some points, and purposeful at others, and every little thing he did, he did it with sweet disposition.

The kind of man who treats a girl like that doesn’t just leave her in the dead of night with no good reason, right?

Her mind races despite her body going into auto-pilot throughout her morning routine. Her shower is over in the flash of an eye, she strips her bed, starts her laundry, makes herself some tea and gets herself dressed - all the while weighing out all the possibilities of what could have taken him away from her, and what she would be able to understand. 

That quickly turns to her imagining the worst, and a tight, constricting feeling starts to consume her chest. 

There isn’t a single part of her apartment she can get away from the thoughts buzzing around her brain - her kitchen marred with the memory of what had happened on the counter, her couch, her bedroom, her bathroom - all carrying distinct memories of Nico that she needs to bench until she knows the truth.

She mistakenly thinks her escape might lie in her phone. There might be a text there waiting, explaining everything and relieving all the anxiety that has welled up in her very core.

Nia’s warnings from the night before don’t ring quick enough in her mind as the screen comes to life, the immediate barrage of notifications flooding in.

2 missed calls from Mom

Mom: Just calling to remind you of proper table etiquette in case it has slipped your mind, I won’t have you embarrass me in front of a Lyon.

Mom: Cutlery going from the outside in, hold your wine glass by the stem and dab with your napkin, don’t swipe!

Mom: Also let the man tuck your chair in and pay the bill, this 21st century woman nonsense is very unbecoming!

Mom: And I don’t want to have to bring this up but for the love of God, Poppy, have some class. I don’t want to hear mutterings of your promiscuity at the next luncheon.

Whoever taught her mom to text deserves a prison sentence, she thinks.

Tucker Lyon standing a girl up and ghosting her attempts to contact him is what’s unbecoming, not her trying to pay her half of the meal.

She can picture her mother as she reads the texts, sipping on her Manhattan on the couch in the great room, her dad already having retreated to bed at that time, and her having nothing better to do than sit and stew on her daughter’s sex life.

If she knew what was really going down last night, her mom would probably have a conniption.

Knowing she’ll no doubt be getting a call later that evening, Poppy swipes away at her text thread with her mom, immediately checking the notifications she hasn’t long received from her best friend.

Nia: hey if you happen to release yourself from Nico’s wandering hands at all today me and Kelsey are grabbing breakfast by my work!!

Nia: if you need refuelling we’ll be at Marco’s at 9 😘 

Perfect. Therein lies her escape. Breakfast with her best friends, where they can hopefully talk her down from the ledge she’s precariously placed herself on.

A catch up with her girls, and then she can distract herself with work.

Poppy: I’ll be there!!

“Hasn’t he text you or anything?” Nia asks, covering her mouth as she chews on her breakfast bagel, the three girls sat around a table inside their favourite cafe close to Nia’s office.

When Poppy and Nia had first moved in together, they rented an apartment in Hoboken, not too far, and their tradition of grabbing breakfast at Marco’s carried on despite Poppy living further down the river and working even further away in Newark. 

Kelsey had lived in Manhattan at that time, but she stayed over so often with the other girls that she practically spent majority of her week there, and so Poppy and Nia’s routine became hers.

Poppy had given the two of them a brief rundown of her night with Nico, a safe-for-work version of events, all leading up to the mysterious early morning phone call and swift departure.

“Nope,” she sighs, swiping to refresh her messages as if she hasn’t put her phone on loud just to be alerted when he does reach out.

“Have you text him?”

“Nope,” she repeats, putting the phone down and leaning back in her chair, running a hand through her already messed up hair. She’s going to have to throw it up if she wants to look any sort of presentable when she gets to work later.

“Is he usually this pathetic at communicating?” Kelsey asks, manicured nails swiping at a bunch of Sweet’n Lows like she’s trying to play Tetris with the packets. 

Kelsey hasn’t met Nico before, not that Poppy can remember.

Despite considering her one of her closest friends, their personal lives have never quite intertwined like that - not like hers and Nia’s.

In college, things were different. They were coming into their own together, figuring out just what they wanted their personal lives to be, and so Kelsey, Poppy and Nia would all share pretty much everything, just to have someone there to validate their feelings.

But that changed once they graduated.

Kelsey moved in with her boyfriend, Liam - who just so happens to be Poppy’s idea of hell-spawn.

The kind of guy her mother would probably love.

Liam worked on Wall Street, couldn’t go five minutes of conversation without talking about stocks or investment funds. His native language was risky money moves and belittling remarks, and he treated Kelsey like an accessory to parade around in public and discard in private.

Poppy had tried a few times to open Kelsey’s eyes to the way that it was, but it soon became apparent that she had to let her friend make her own mistakes, and some parts of their lives didn’t have to cross over.

They broke up around Thanksgiving, and Poppy had tried with all her might not to show her relief, but it has made her somewhat resentful when it comes to other relationships - like no one can be happy if she isn’t.

She knows it isn’t malicious, but she restrains from letting Kelsey all the way in, all the same.

“Not really,” Poppy lies, not wanting to clue her in on the Big Freezewhere he didn’t speak to her for months on end. It doesn’t entirely help her case. “I just don’t get why he’d sneak out to see her of all people, he told me they weren’t ever that solid, that he wasn’t happy with her.”

“Ooh, what if she’s pregnant?” Kelsey is entirely oblivious to the horrific realm of possibility she has just opened Poppy up to, evidenced by the casual chuckle and subsequent sip of her coffee. “Maybe she’s back to baby-trap him.”

Poppy thinks she would have to flee the state.

Nico is a family guy - if Talia is pregnant, he’d force himself to love her again, if he ever even stopped, for the sake of their gorgeous brown eyed, floppy haired baby, and push Poppy to the side just like he had before. And she’ll have to watch him from the sidelines, yearning for what she had just managed to touch the tips of her fingers to before it was violently yanked from her grasp. 

Maybe she’d have to flee the country even - move somewhere remote where she doesn’t even have the chance of being reminded of hockey, let alone of him.

Somewhere with no coffee shops that she’d enter, and the smell of fresh pastries would remind her of all the breakfasts they had together. No railways, where she’d be reminded of his love for model trains every time she came across the tracks. No weird club music that he loves so much, or dorky wizard franchises he chastises her for never having seen.

Maybe Antarctica. They only have penguins there. No real civilisation that she knows of. No brown haired, dark eyed Swiss Gods with deep, honeyed voices that make her knees weak and dimpled smiles that do even worse.

She wouldn’t be able to cope with losing him like that, living her life in an endless mental cycle of what ifs and maybes.

“Kelsey, I beg of you to read the room,” Nia chastises, swatting the girl on her arm before taking Poppy’s hand in her own. “Don’t listen to her, she just wants us all to be single at the same time.”

“Sue me for wanting to have fun! It would be just like college, you and me full-body plunging into the dating pool. Imagine the chaos, Pop, you don’t wanna be tied down to a guy hung up on his ex right now.”

“Dating pool?” Nia scoffs, turning to glare at her, “You’re hardly dry from your last relationship.”

“I’d rather be a grape than a raisin, Ni.” Kelsey chides back, and Poppy can’t help the twitch of her lips at the horrific comparison. 

“You’re really gonna listen to a girl who says that?” Nia asks, unable to mask the glint of humour in her eyes, and Kelsey bites back a smile, too.

Despite the ache in her chest at the thought of any of it - of Nico leaving her this morning, filling her up with empty words and false promises, potentially knocking up an ex girlfriend he is still secretly hung up on even though he told her otherwise - she manages to crack a full smile.

“You are terrible at analogies, Kels,” Poppy tries to hide the grin behind her cup, sipping at her tea and letting the warmth of it soothe the pain in her throat. 

“I’m trying to encourage you to be a strong, independent woman here!”

“She is a strong, independent woman,” Nia defends, “She also happens to be a chronic over-thinker with a deep seated fear of confrontation.”

“I don’t fear confrontation.”

“Then why are we here chit-chatting about hypothetical scenarios when you could just text him and ask what’s up?”

“Maybe ‘cause that’s scary?” Poppy scoffs, only half joking. “What am I supposed to say, hey I just so happened to eavesdrop on your private conversation before you fled my apartment this morning, and despite me not understanding most of it, I definitely heard you mention someone, so could you just let me know if your gorgeous model ex girlfriend is pregnant with your perfect specimen baby?”

“Sounds like you’ve got it all figured out, you don’t even need us.”

Poppy rolls her eyes.  

She could text him. Could be casual about it, a good morning or even an are you okay? Those don’t warrant the alarm bells she’s afraid of raising - the ones that blare out with the siren sound of run, this girl is unhealthily attached to you already!

But she doesn’t want to be the pathetic girl chasing after the guy sending her clear messages that he doesn’t want her.

It’s easier said than done not to overthink the whole thing - not to second guess everything he had said, or everything she had done last night.

She feels like she had rushed things. It was so impulsive, so charged, and after spending the majority of her week away from him, she just hadn’t been able to help herself. And that makes her feel like a hypocrite. She had told him that night he had first kissed her that things between them had gotten intense. It had been the whole reason for spending a few days outside of each other’s company, and in the first possible instance, she had thrown herself at him.

It was desperate.

And maybe that scared him.

It sure as hell scares her.

“I don’t know what to do,” She groans, throwing her head into her hands and scrunching her eyes shut to try and drown out the endless doubt. 

She feels two hands rub at either sides of her back, “Listen, Pop,” Nia is the first to attempt to console her, as always, and Poppy holds her breath for the harsh reality check she’s about to throw her way. “You know I am the one person who would usually be trying to convince you to cut your losses and run when it comes to guys who are no good, but this is Nico. I’ve watched the two of you ignore your feelings for far too long to let you get in your own way, now.

“And you’re forgetting I saw him last night, before you got there, there isn’t a chance in Hell he would have left you like that without a good reason. I don’t for a second think he’s still hung up on her.” Nia casts a side eye to Kelsey.

The only problem is that Poppy isn’t sure there’s a reason good enough. Not when it comes to Talia. Not when the memory of those months of radio silence is still so fresh for her.

“I have to go to work in a building where his face is plastered everywhere, Ni, I can hardly forget his entire existence until he deems me worthy of an explanation. Who leaves after a night like that without even a note or a text?”

“An idiot,” Kelsey mutters around her drink, rolling her eyes when Nia sends her another death-glare.

“I’m not asking you to forget, I’m telling you to wait.” Nia frowns, but her tone remains consoling and warm. “You need to stop letting what this thinks,” she flicks at Poppy’s forehead, “Get in the way of what this knows.” She points to her chest on the left side. “You know him. You know how much he likes you.”

She does.

She knows Nico, she trusts him.

She can only judge him based on his actions so far - the ones that tell her that he cares. He leads with his heart, it’s his most attractive attribute. He’s gentle and loving and she needs to focus on those things over anything else.

“Ugh, corny,” Kelsey drags, and despite her repeated efforts to discourage her, Poppy knows she isn’t being entirely serious. “If he has any non-stupid hot athlete friends though, I’m first in line when the two of you kiss and make up for double dates.”

Guilt pricks slightly at Poppy’s chest - for making her recently single friend sit here and listen to her complain about something so monumentally small compared to the breakdown of the long-term relationship Kelsey had just endured. Even if it was perceivably toxic.

“You’d make such a good WAG, Kels.”

It’s a poor attempt to make up for it, but it seems to console her friend all the same, a giant grin breaking out and flashing her perfect pearly whites.

“I know.”

Poppy tries to distract herself with work. Tries to make her way through her inbox of seemingly never ending emails and her list of ever-growing tasks. She types up lengthy responses, puts together a presentation, makes a bunch of phone calls she’s been putting off for God knows how long, sorts all her invoices out - she even sends a fax. In the year 2024. It’s her most productive work day she thinks she’s ever had.

She zeroes in on the ground every time she moves through the building. Ignores the pictures that line the walls of the Rock, pushes down the memories of all the times she’s walked these very halls by Nico’s side, and she thinks she’s done just about enough to clear her mind for the time being.

She hasn’t thought up some heart wrenching scenario in at least an hour by the time she’s wrapping up for the day.

She’s making her way back to her office after dropping some files off for Elaine when she catches sight of a mop of curls over the top of the chair by her desk.

Luke is sat in her chair when she enters, swivelling around and staring at the ceiling.

“You’re gonna make yourself sick doing that, you know.”

“You’re such a mom,” he scoffs, standing up and clearly trying not to sway, “You ever tried having fun? I think I saw a glue stick on a table out there,” he points through the door into the wider office space, where there are a few, less private cubicles and a common area. “We should go sniff them, let loose a little.”

“Is that why you’re here on your day off? To huff glue?”

“Yeah, I don’t get to let loose enough. Being a rookie in the NHL is hard, Poppy,”

“Bummer for you.” She pouts, mockingly, swerving past him as he rounds her desk and sits on the other side, flicking at the bobblehead version of his older brother that stands by her computer. “If you’re chasing a high can you do it with one of the other departments, it’s not a good look for the Youth Foundation.”

“I won’t tell if you don’t.”

When Luke had first joined the Devils, she hadn’t expected that she would warm to him the way she has - but, surprisingly enough, considering the fact they’re brothers, their relationship recently has started to mirror her and Jack’s.

Luke is funny. He’s sarcastic and a little silly, and it can be nice to have him around when work gets a little stressful. He doesn’t let the pressures of his own career outweigh those of hers, and, despite the gap in age, she actually enjoys his company.

But he never seeks her out like this.

Their interactions have always started through other people. Group conversations that dwindle to just the two of them, or he usually accompanies Jack to bug her and carries on when Jack’s ever-so-busy schedule takes him elsewhere.

She can’t think of another time he’s just shown up in her office alone.

Especially on his incredibly rare day off.

“Why are you actually here?” She asks, casting a suspicious but half-playful glare his way as she starts to pack up her things. 

“Came to see if you wanted to join us for dinner.”

“Aw Lukey,” she reaches over her desk to pinch his cheek, “I’m flattered and all but I’m a little too old for you.”

“Ha ha,” he swats her hand away, “Us. Me and Jack. Maybe a couple of the others if they’re free but you can pick where we go if you make a decision quickly, we were thinking a steakhouse.”

She narrows her eyes at him, expecting him to crack a joke about her being old, but he just looks back at her awaiting a response. “Why?” She drags out the question, her movements stopping completely.

“Maybe ‘cause humans need sustenance to live? What do you mean, why?”

“Why would you want me to tag along on your bro date?”

“Don’t call it a bro date,” Luke cringes, “Just remembered you were working today and we were in the area, don’t know why you’re being weird about it.”

“You’re being weird. You guys never let me choose where we eat. Don’t you remember that time we grabbed dinner when you guys drove me home and Jack told me to stop being a pussy about my seafood allergy ‘cause he wanted sushi.”

“Don’t blame me for the crimes of my brother, Poppy, he was obviously joking.”

“I had to eat tofu, Luke, I don’t find that very funny.”

“Are you coming or not?”

“That depends, how do you have your steak?”

“Well done.”

“Oh! Then absolutely not.”

“Remind me never to try to be nice to you again.” He scowls as they make their way out of her office, and she locks up behind the two of them.

“Gladly, it’s creeping me out.” She grabs at his elbow before he can carry on, stopping him in the otherwise empty common area where she knows no one is around to listen in. “Is something going on, seriously?”

Luke rolls his eyes, but she knows him well enough that it’s only done in an attempt to avert from her gaze. 

Bingo. He’s hiding something.

“I just thought you might want some company.” He shrugs, shoving his hands into his pockets and twisting his lips to keep from saying much more.

“Why?”

If Poppy wanted to spend her life getting a straight answer out of people for a living, she’d have become an interrogator. What is it with these guys and their inability to answer a simple question?

“Jack said you left the party last night with Nico.”

Poppy’s eyebrows scrunch so close together that she can feel a deep crease form between them. What on earth does that have to do with asking her to dinner? Or being overly nice to her?

Unless-

“You’ve seen him?”

“This morning.”

“Oh.”

All of her efforts from throughout the day seem to have been for nothing - an immediate rush of insecurities flooding her mind.

Where did he see him? What did he say? Was he okay? Was Talia there?

She feels like she can gauge an answer from the way Luke looks. Sheepish, almost, like he doesn’t want to say something he knows will hurt her feelings.

She had to have been with him. He wouldn’t just show up to her office like this if it wasn’t something that would seriously hurt.

She wishes she wasn’t the kind of person who did this - who filled in the gaps of conversations and always came out with the worst possible outcomes - but she can’t help it. She’s been doing it all her life, and there’s rarely ever an instance where her instincts have led her astray.

She knows it’s some weird part of her mind protecting her, but she needs to do something here. Nia’s words from earlier ring like a warning. Don’t let what her brain thinks get in the way of what her heart knows.

Her heart knows Nico wanted her. Knows Nico liked her. Knows Nico wouldn’t do anything to hurt her.

She needs to figure things out for herself and stop running, stop letting her mind fill in the gaps of a situation it can’t even comprehend to begin with.

She reaches her arms around Luke’s shoulders, stretching up on her tip toes to pull him into a hug before rubbing her knuckles into his curls, affectionately.

Luke Hughes is sarcastic and silly, and he cares enough about her to not want her to be alone if she’s going through something.

“Thank you for the offer, Luke, but I’ll be alright.”

“Are you sure?”

She nods, a tender smile tugging at the corners of her stubborn lips. It takes over her face, eyes glinting fondly and cheeks warming. 

“Yeah, you can walk me to my car if you’re that worried about me though.” She loops her arm through his elbow as they make their way to the parking lot, and when they get there, he makes sure she’s in her car and has set off before him and Jack leave.

As if her day can’t get any worse, the elevator in her building is cordoned off with tape and a sign when she gets home, and she has never regretted moving up a floor as much as she does when she’s trudging up 6 flights of stairs.

She’s exhausted. Emotionally and physically, and she just wants to throw herself into bed and pretend the last 24 hours were a terrible dream.

Only, as she rounds the final corner to get to her door, any hopes of that go straight down the pan when her eyes land on Nico, standing in front of her door with his hands buried in his jacket pocket.

He looks tired too - hair messed where he’s no doubt been taking his cap on and off for however long he’s been stood here, running a hand through the tresses until they’re all askew. 

His shoulders are slumped, and he doesn’t even greet her with that pretty smile he usually gives her.

His lips do curve up a touch - limp and half-hearted, not even enough for a dimple to form - but it doesn’t provide the comfort she had thought it would.

She feels anxious. A culmination of the day’s emotions washing over in one go. Sad, regretful, nervous, disappointed - all things she shouldn’t be used to feeling when it comes to Nico, but are all too familiar when she takes the last few months into account.

“Hi.” She gives a weak smile of her own.

“Can we talk?”

She wishes he’d have just said hi, back. That might have relieved the tightness in her chest just a little.

Nothing good ever comes of can we talk?

He steps aside as she approaches, maintaining a safe distance as she opens the door and enters her apartment.

The Nico from yesterday might have brushed past her, the graze of an arm or a lingering hand, but this Nico doesn’t. He barely even meets her eye.

He closes the door behind himself, watching as she discards her bag and keys to the console table on the side, and while she’s turned away from him, she tries to let whatever emotions need to come out cross her features where he can’t see them.

She needs to be cool about this, she thinks.

If she doesn’t get her back up, doesn’t get agitated, she won’t scare him off.

“Are you okay?” She asks once she’s turned to face him, not liking how he stands unmoving by the door. He hasn’t made any effort to settle in - his jacket still on and his hands still hidden in the pockets.

“Shouldn’t I be the one asking you that?”

She realises now that she can get a good look at him that the expression he wears is one of shame. Guilt. Apprehension. She needs to be careful and toe the line before he gets consumed by it, she realises.

She steps toward him a little, and he doesn’t back up - not immediately, not obviously - but he hardly welcomes her approach, either.

She doesn’t like feeling this way when it comes to talking to him - feeling uneasy and unsure, but there’s a part of her that’s tired of having to prompt him for answers.

He had been the one to leave this morning. Why can’t he just come out and tell her why?

“I’m alright,” she shrugs, not wanting to scare him off with the truth. “Super tired, though, can we sit?”

She wonders if he thinks about the same things she does as they make their way to the couch. Wonders if he can feel the scratch of her nails on his torso, or the brush of her lips against his, as they sit in the spot where not even 24 hours ago, their bodies had been intertwined.

He doesn’t sit right beside her as he normally would, and she finds herself missing the way his thigh usually brushes against her own.

She doesn’t know where to start or what to ask, and so she basks in the silence for a little - finding comfort in the fact that, despite the mess they’re currently in, they aren’t quite at the end yet.

But a part of her feels it coming.

She’d known it this morning if she lets herself listen to the rational voice in her head. As soon as she’d heard him say her name, as soon as he’d left, a part of her knew that was it, and maybe if she’d let herself believe it at the time - hadn’t talked herself down and convinced herself she was being irrational - she could have protected herself from all the ways this is going to hurt.

“I’m sorry.” He says, and when she looks up, he’s looking down where his large hands are now clasped together in his lap.

“For what?” She manages to choke out.

“Last night, I,” she digs her nails into the palms of her own hands to stop herself filling in the gaps as he figures out what he wants to say, but it’s no use.

He’s sorry for last night.

Last night, he made a mistake.

Last night, he was drunk, he was confused, he was just looking for something or someone to keep him occupied.

“I care about you so much, Poppy.”

That sentence shouldn’t be the one that fills her with dread, but it is.

“You’re my best friend, and I love you,” he does look up as he says this, eye meeting hers in an attempt to convey his honesty, but she sees more of the truth in his glassy gaze than she hears in his words. “This morning, I panicked, and I just needed some time to figure out what I want.”

No, no, no.

She’d rather he tell her what actually happened than do this. Than pretend he left because he doesn’t want her.

“I love you-,”

“You said that, already.” She can’t help the bite in her tone as she prepares herself for the hit. The I love you, but.

“You’re so important to me. Being your friend, it’s like it’s what keeps me sane lately.”

She chews at the inside of her cheek as she feels the tears start to well at her lash line.

“Poppy, I don’t want to mess up what we have,” he shakes his head as his gaze drops, dark eyes darting to focus anywhere but on her own, pleading and watery as she watches him slip away. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You don’t think this is hurting me?” She feels weak as her voice breaks, “You don’t think this is already messy?”

She reaches out to take his hands in hers, digging in to unclasp them, to try thread her fingers through, but he doesn’t make it easy.

“Nico, I love you, too, you know I do, we can figure it out, you don’t have to run away from me.”

It’s a desperate attempt and she knows it is, but she needs to know she tried. When she’s sobbing into her pillow and crying herself to sleep tonight, she needs to know she didn’t just let him go without a fight.

“I can’t give you what you want, I can’t be in a relationship, I’m no good at it.” 

Regardless of what she had told herself earlier, about taking what he says at face value, and trying not to fill in the gaps like she does so often with everyone else, she can’t help herself. When he says, I can’t be in a relationship, he means with her. He can’t be with Poppy. He would be no good with Poppy.

“Why are you doing this?”

“I told you-,”

“No, you said before that you’ve wanted this for as long as you’ve known me, you don’t just wake up and change your mind, not after-,” Poppy starts to feel panic building within her like a flipped over sand timer. Rising and rising until she starts to feel nauseous, getting harder with each second not to jump to conclusions. 

The voice inside her that tells her he got what he wanted and decided it wasn’t for him sounds caustic and bitter, and if she hadn’t wound herself up so much about this whole situation over the course of the day - the past week, even, or the months before - she might have been able to fight off the way it so easily convinces her.

“I have to put the team first, it doesn’t matter what I want, I have to focus on them, on hockey.”

She’s too caught up in her own emotions to notice how weak he sounds - glassy eyes unable to catch the glint in his. All she can hear, all she can see, is the minute hints of a cover-up - that she isn’t getting the whole story, that he’s lying to her, and that the excuse he’s giving is cowardly.

He still hasn’t mentioned the call, hasn’t mentioned Talia, hasn’t explained why he left her, why he didn’t say anything, why he didn’t come back.

“And you didn’t know that before?” She scoffs, pushing herself up off the couch and stepping away from him, “I can’t believe you would do this to me.” She wipes the tears from her cheeks as soon as they fall, but she can’t rid her skin of the feeling that they were there, her flesh damp and sore.

“I know we took things a little too far last night, but that doesn’t mean-,” She almost thinks he notices how bad that hurts her, referencing the night they shared as a mistake - an instance where they got carried away, and not where they followed through on years worth of built up tension and adoration for one another. She doesn’t even have to fill in the gaps, this time. Took things a little too far is clear enough. “We can still be friends. I want to be friends.”

“Friends?” Poppy jeers in disbelief, turning completely away from him now and missing the tears that drop from his own cheeks - missing the way his chest cracks and stretches open in a last ditch demonstration of his vulnerability, his desperation not to lose her completely. “You should go.”

“Poppy,”

“I can’t,” she tries so hard not to cry, knowing she won’t be able to stop, but the words come out in a choked sob, and her voice carries on in the whiney way she always hates. “You told me you wanted more, you said I was yours, and I’m supposed to just act like it never happened? Just accept you didn’t actually mean the things you said?”

“I meant them,” he says, defiantly, so sure of himself that it makes her head spin. “I wouldn’t-,”

“No, you didn’t. You’re a liar. You were either lying then, or you’re lying now. I don’t know which is worse. I can’t be your friend. I can’t pretend like you can that I don’t feel the way I feel.”

“Please, Mohn,” His fingertips just manage to reach out to land on her forearm before she shucks him off, wincing as if his touch has pained her.

“Don’t.” She takes an immediate step back, arms crossing over herself as a defence mechanism, body language screaming at him to go away, and she watches his pleading eyes drop to her arms just as she feels the cold of the metal there - so in tune with her every thought despite his denial of their true connection. Her arms move before her mind can make the decision, before it can remember what even sits on her skin, and her shaking fingers fumble to unclasp the jewellery adorned on her wrist. “You should take this back.”

Nico shakes his head, stepping back and away from the outstretched hand that holds her gemstone bracelet like it’s an actual danger to him. “No, that’s yours, Poppy.”

“I don’t want it.” She knows she’s the one that’s lying now. She wants the bracelet. She wants him. She doesn’t want him to leave. She wants to be his friend over being nothing. 

But she doesn’t want to hurt.

Looking at him hurts.

Remembering last night, remembering their kiss, the things he has said, the things he has done, it all hurts, and she can’t keep hold of a constant reminder of the pain, can’t wear it on her person at all hours of the day just to know deep down that the man who gave it to her will never want her the same way.

“I want you to leave.”

“Please,” he begs again, head tilting as devastation floods his features, brows pushing together, tears welling at the corners of his eyes, “We need to talk about this-,”

“No, you were right, we went too far, it was a mistake.” Her voice breaks as she says things she knows she doesn’t mean, but he’s already put it out there, so she doesn’t see the harm in echoing his own opinions. “There’s nothing more to talk about.”

She can’t look at him anymore, and so she drops her gaze to his hands, stepping and reaching forward and forcing him to take the bracelet from her before she rounds the couch and heads to the door.

If he isn’t going to give her the whole truth, she isn’t going to entertain part of the story, and she needs him gone so she can give in to the way her body wants to fold in on itself.

It takes him a minute to gather himself, but she refuses to look his way, waiting by the open door to her apartment and staring at the floor in front of her until his shoes appear.

“I do love you, Poppy. I’m leaving because I don’t want to upset you any more than I already have, and I’ll give you space if that’s what you need, but I’ll be here when you want to talk about this. I mean it when I say I can’t lose you.”

 She doesn’t say anything. She can’t say anything.

There’s a stabbing pain that’s building and building in the centre of her chest, and she doesn’t even think she can breathe in his presence.

He clasps a hand around her upper arm, and leans into her, his lips pressing a firm kiss into the crown of her head, and he lingers there for a moment before he retreats. 

She manages to push the door closed behind him, the click of the lock louder than ever, and waits a good few minutes in silence before her body is wracked with a silent sob.

The one time she had tried to be brave and fight her own intuition, and this is where it gets her.

So much for Nico wouldn’t do anything to hurt her.

Next Chapter

Taglist: @alwaysclassyeagle @bunbunbl0gs @idgaf-if-youre-here @youflowerr-youfeast @thearchersstuff @bellsdi0r @wonderheartz @jjgsunflower @butterflies35 @kenziepickle @josierosie @laheyxlover @mrsmattytkachuk (sorry if your tag hasn't worked btw)

[bowtiepastabitch]

Fandom Tumblr, Do Your Thing

Mutuals, strangers, people I've force-friended by making silly fanart of your posts. Lend me your ears for like, ten seconds.

For less than the price of a cup of coffee (or for free!!) I will personally send you a custom piece of hand drawn one-of-a-kind art. So long as you give me a reference image of some kind, I will draw just about anything.* For you. At no cost. And I will send it to you in the mail, aka the coolest way to get art. All you have to do is:

1.Donate to @phoen1xr0se's mutual aid fund for housing for her and her two kids!

2.DM me a screenshot of your receipt

3.Provide me with your address** and your drawing prompt

4.Wait for your art to arrive:)

OR

1.Reblog this post. You can literally just reblog this post. When her fundraiser is completed, I will pick 2-5 blogs from the notes (depending on how many rbs I get) to send you art completely for free. If you get picked, I will get in contact to get your information.

Full information, terms, conditions, et cetera, are further down. Please do read them before sending money.

~~~

Laura, aka PhoenixRose, is a mutual of mine and an incredible writer. She's a total sweetheart, and she's kind of adopted a lot of the Good Omens fandom and has really been a light in the community. She is unable to work due to cancer, so this fundraiser is to help ensure that her family has a safe and stable place to live. You can find out more about her lovely family and situation at the link or on her page<3

Rules and stuff: I live in the united states, so international shipping is a bit pricy. As such, the minimum to redeem a postcard is £5 for US addresses and £10 for all other addresses, in UK currency, with proof of payment in UK or your local currency. Higher donation amounts will get you more effort into your art, and for any donations over £50 I will break out the paints. You can click here to see some of the fanart I've done recently, though my higher quality original art doesn't usually end up on my blog so it may be a bit skewed as to representing my skill level. That said, I am an artist in the loosest sense of the term and really only do this for fun. Please don't expect professional results. Additionally, I am receiving no money whatsoever for this (stamps are out of my pocket), and it's important to me that you know that. I've already donated all I can afford to, so this is my broke bitch way of helping out a little more. If you get picked to get art for free, your dms will need to be turned on so I can reach you. If I am unable to get in contact with you via DMs or asks, that will be considered a forfeit.

*I really will draw just about anything, including characters, ocs, animals, your pets, your friends, your fursona, etc. No explicit NSFW please, suggestive is okay. I reserve the right to ask you to pick something different if the prompt makes me uncomfortable or is offensive in any way.

**I want to keep your information as safe as possible. As such, if you're not comfortable sending over dms I can provide you with my email address to send the information to. I am also open to sending it digital if you are in a position where you cannot currently receive physical mail or are uncomfortable doing so. All messages, emails, etc with personal information will be deleted as soon as your mail is on its way.

[ask-lps-staff-au]

Russell: To deepen the bond we have with our customers *cough cough* and to get our sales up *cough cough* we created this blog for you all to get in touch with us. Today, I’m going to introduce the rest of the staff here so you know who to address your questions to. Starting with-

Vinnie: ME ME ME!!!!

Russell: Yes, Vinnie, You.

Russell: What you do.

Vinnie: Ohhh! I like to dance :) 

Russell: No, what is your job?

Vinnie: Man, you should’ve just said that! My job is… well I lift heavy things sometimes? Like dog food and kitty litter. That kinda thing. Mostly just chill, though. That good?

Russell: You know what? Yes. That’s perfect, Vinnie

Vinnie: Sweet.

Russell: Minka, sorry to cut you short but can we have your name and job please?

Minka: I was just getting to that part! Anyways, my name’s Minka Mark, and I’m the cashier here, you hear?

Russell: Loud and clear, Minka.

Russell: They aren’t lines, just say it how you normally would!

Vinnie: Yeah, you just gotta say it Zoe-ey!

Zoe: Zoe-ey? Oh, that’s it!

Zoe: *singing* Yeahh Yeaaahhh~ The name’s Zoe~ And now you know-y~

Zoe: *back to talking* Oh, yeah. I’m in charge of grooming the pets.

Russell: Ohhh-kay. Let’s move on.

Pepper: Serious as I can be. Number 1: what has four legs in the morning, two legs in the afternoon, and three legs at night?

Russell: A man.

Pepper: Correctomundo, but are you ready for riddle number 2? What gets wetter the more it dries?

Russell: A towel. Are you just reading off a list of the top ten most basic riddles or what?

Pepper: I’ll answer that but you’ll have to answer three more riddles. Last one: the man who invented it doe-

Minka: HER NAME IS PEPPER CLARK AND SHE TAKES CARE OF THE DAYCARE PETS!!!

Pepper: Dangit.

Russell: Thank you, Minka.

Russell: Probably like 10 people at most.

Vinnie: But, hey! You never know if the algorithm could pick it up! You could be talking to millions of people right now!

Sunil: Millions?! Eek!

Russell: *sigh* That’s Sunil. Talk to him if you ever need help finding anything. I promise he’s more helpful than he looks right now.

Russell: … that’s it?

Penny: Was there supposed to be more?

Russell: No, this is just the smoothest interview I’ve had all day. I’m kinda shocked.

Penny: Well, I’m glad I did good.

Russell: Yep.

Both: …

Blythe: Ruff ruff!

Russell: Oh, yeah, that’s right! Don’t forget to check out Blythe-Style pet clothes which you can find on the racks in the front of the store (which are made by a different Blythe and not this Blythe. A human Blythe. Obviously because why would a dog make clothes!! That’s absurd!!! Almost as crazy as a group of people who can understand ANIMALS hahahaha!!!)

Russell: Those questions aren’t- Whatever. Ask us anything, I guess.

---

Hello, and welcome to the ((very much unofficial))* Littlest Pet Shop page! Please drop any questions you have for us in our inbox - Best, R. Ferguson

*((this is in no way related to or authorized by hasbro or the Littlest Pet Shop brand. This is a fan project fully made for entertainment purposes. I make no profit from this.))

((Hello!!!! Double parentheses mean that I, the person who runs this blog aka @octodrawn, am speaking. I wanted to give you a couple guidelines before you submit anything. If you’re interested, please click read more!

I want to start this off by saying I am a human person with responsibilities, boundaries and a lack of free time so it may take a while to answer your ask. I also have the right to not answer every ask I receive.

We are keeping things generally PG/PG-13 here, so that means Minimal swearing, no violence, Minimal references to drug use, nothing sexual except for maybe the occasional ‘I did your mom last night’ type jokes because they are funny to me.

This is primarily an art ask blog, but I will only use text for posts on occasion.

I’m not gonna put a cap on ‘what do you think of __ x __’ questions for now, but if they become a majority of questions asked, then I will. Currently, no ships are canon in this AU, so don’t expect any answers to say anything differently.

Don’t take the setup of this blog being diegetic too seriously. If you want to send something that’s like *gives them all cookies* or *transforms them into turtles* I won’t stop you.

Have fun and be yourself :-)

Please keep this in mind before asking anything. This is all for fun, so please don’t take this too seriously.

I’ll be making a tag list soon but feel free to send asks now :3))

[bronx-bomber87]

Hi!! I just spent the last hour scrolling through your page and I adore everything you have to say about tim and lucy…

So I was curious (because I’m a month into the fandom and I don’t really know anyone yet) what your thoughts, predictions, expectations for season 7 would be?

Sorry if you’ve posted something similar before, please point me in the right direction if you have :)

- Loren

Hi! @moderatelydelusional Nice to meet you, Loren. Thank you for the lovely ask :) Making me all red with your nice comment. So glad you liked everything I've had to say about our lovely ship. Appreciate it so much. Before I answer I want to say welcome to the fandom! We are glad to have you here. 😊 There are so many good blogs on tumblr for them. Glad you chose me as one of them. I am honored. ❤️ I haven't really tackled s7 at all so this is a good ask. Excited to answer it. I'm a detailed woman. So imma break your question down into sections if that's alright. I legit don't know how to be brief about this show or them haha Also will do it with gifs cause that's my thing. Here is my detailed answer below. Hope you enjoy it.

Thoughts on S7- Well we've had ZERO and I mean ZERO spoilers or indicators about this upcoming season. Which I do love them keeping it close to the vest. Honestly I do. Just means they have something incredibly good lined up. They just want to make sure we are surprised. Can't fault them for that. But I'm dying for anything. The end of s6 left us wanting so much more with the scene above. We are all chomping at the bit for any content. I know Eric had a interview couple weeks back about s7. From what little he was able to divulge I am EXCITED.

Here is the link to it. Talks about Tim needing to EARN Lucy back in more ways than one. How she is the love of his life. (Tell us something we don't know haha) But I love Eric referring to her to as such. The personal development for Tim to come as well. Like I said they haven't given us much of anything yet. It's hard to have thoughts when we don't have much to go on. But it seems like it'll be well rounded season. It's always been a character driven show so I think it'll be more than just our ship. Which is fine with me. It is an ensemble cast after all.

I fell in love with this show as a whole when it first launched back in 2018. Give me more Tim/Angela, Lucy/Nyla and Wopez. I'll take all of that. I have been all in from the Pilot. I remember watching it on my lunch break on my phone when it first premiered. I was hooked. When we finally get a promo and a friggin premiere date I can probably be more in depth with my answer. Since we don't have a lot to go on it's hard to have in depth thoughts ha But from what little they've let out I'm quite excited for the journey we're going to embark on. We just need a start date for said journey. All we know is Jan but I need a hard date LOL

Expectations For S7. -I expect Chenford to get back to the softness above. It won't be easy but I expect we are headed back there. I think it's gonna be quite the journey to get us there. Both Tim and Lucy are going to need to grow before we do. They both still have shit to work out. Lucy with her career path and the rough time she had last year. It wasn't just Tim that crushed her. I mean it was a huge headliner but wasn't the ONLY one. Our girl has some communication problems and is like her soulmate in how she handles emotional distress. Expect that to be addressed on some level.

Tim obviously has a lot to make up for and he knows it. That is the first step. I expect we see Tim working constantly to improve himself as a person. To be worthy of Lucy again. He's not going to half ass his healing. He is going to be very Tim in how he goes after it. This is going to bleed into every part of his life. I expect to see that all over his character development in s7.

I also anticipate that we'll see an even stronger and more refined version of Chenford in Season 7, with their characters continuing to grow and evolve. Strong separately and even more so together. I cannot wait for the slow burn of their reconciliation. Going to make all the hurt worth it. It'll be Chenford 2.0 and we are all going to be grateful for that. While losing our minds together it's happening. I would rather have our ship and characters be real and develop. Better that than to be puddle deep like John/Bailey. I'll take the pain of growth over the stagnation of boredom. i.e. Bailian.

Predictions-Obviously I want to predict something like above. Them starting over. Kisses, hugs, and if we're lucky enough to get a repeat of 5x12 on screen. That one I'm straight just trying to manifest lol Possibly Celina catching them or almost doing so when they get back together at her place. These are more hopeful than actual predictions lmao But I mainly predict a deeper intimacy between them when they do reconcile. Stronger communication. It'll be beautiful. I also think we're about to see a side of Tim Bradford we haven't seen before. As we know Lucy brings out the best in this man. The absolute best. We're going to see that on full display.

I think he will continue therapy. I also think we’re going to see a very determined Tim driven in his quest to make amends to Lucy. Which will bring out that new side we haven't seen. It's one of the facets of s7 that has me most excited. And not just for the Chenford portion. (Which does make me giddy to no end) But for him as well. You follow me long enough you'll know I love Tim development. So this excites me so very much.

We watched Tim take strides in his mental health walk and as a person in s6 after 6x07. I expect we're going to see the fruit of that not just in his amends to Lucy. But professionally as well. Tim took quite the fall professionally after being bounced out of Metro. He has fences to mend to Grey, Lt. Pine, and those around him as well in patrol. I see him making those strides and then some.

I predict Lucy is going to finally going to get grounded professionally and personally. (She does have a new roommate. I can see development here too) Lucy got very lost in s6. I think s7 she will be righting her ship. Finding her purpose. My guess was T.O. for her with her dipping her toe with Celina in 6x08. She's so empathetic and willing to slow down and teach. I think that could be a good path for her. Whatever her trajectory is I think it's going to be be worked out in s7 for our girl. It's time for her to get some damn wins. I hope that answers your ask LOL Or maybe was too much? HA Either way I can't wait for s7. I need a promo and a premiere date. Seriously ABC, you're killing us.

[spacelessbian]

thoughts on Agatha All Along FINALE

Full spoilers ahead, 100% don't read if you haven't seen episodes 8 and 9.

I really enjoyed the finale, both episodes had a lot to offer and overall I am quite happy with how the show concluded. Things that I liked in no particular order:

The REVEALS. There is simply nothing better than a reveal that recontextualizes everything. And we didn't get just one, but two! Personally I found Agatha running a con and murdering women for centuries the more fun one, but Billy actually creating the Road was also really good and even though I've only seen the show once (unlike many people on here, no doubt), I can name many points in the story and in the dialogue where this is worked in and suddenly makes sense. Really great stuff.

Agatha and Nicky. I was dreading this part a little bit because I know Nicholas Scratch is some sort of big name in Marvel comics and I truly couldn't care less, so I'm pleased with what we got – a genuinely sweet yet tragic story of a mom and her son, destined to death even before being born. I was surprised (but in a good way) by Agatha's quiet reaction to Nicky's death because we know his death hurt her badly, but that's just how it is sometimes.

Agatha and Rio. I won't say I'd always had fate in Marvel to not mess this up, so yay! I don't think they did. This relationship is the heart of the show (and it is black and beats for the queers) and I think the writers did it justice (apart from one thing which I will get to in the next section). The kiss was intense, sexy, beautiful and also tragic and both Kathryn Hahn and Aubrey Plaza did a fantastic job with every piece of dialogue and every expression. I want them to play doomed lovers in five more projects, at least.

The coven. I already blogged about Jen but man, is it funny. Even this was Agatha all along, but she is such a menace she hasn't even realized that. I'm truly happy for Jen making it through and getting her power back. I'm glad we saw Alice's last moment and I liked how much Billy cared about her, Lilia and Sharon.

Agatha's death. I can't help myself, I need to go to that moment again. I was destroyed by that. It was so beautiful, both thematically and also visually and all. The flowers and mushrooms? The sun coming up? I kept thinking about Hozier's Work Song: When my time comes around, lay me gently in the cold dark earth. No grave can hold my body down. I'll crawl home to her. (whadup, Rio reference)

Agatha and Billy specifically in that last battle scene. She was blue you guys, she was just completely blue and in the exact same blue that Billy wears in his silly Marvel costume. And Billy just offered her his power, without questions and without wanting anything in return! And she didn't kill him! (Writing that down, the bar is on the floor for Agatha lol.)

There are other small things (like the Subaru lol), but I am ready to go to the bad section now. Two things I did not like (hidden for lenght but also because not everyone wants to read negative stuff):

Agatha's ghost. I'm gonna say it. Agatha as a ghost looks fucking terrible and her existence itself diminishes her death scene. I do understand why they did it and even why she looks like that (Agatha in the comics, as I understand it, is Wanda's mentor and also an older white haired lady, so they wanted to keep that but it didn't make sense with Wanda anymore), but I just hate it. Especially the wig.

The Marvel stuff. Yes, I realize this sounds stupid, it is a Marvel show after all. We wouldn't get a stupid gimmick like ghost Agatha joining Billy to look for his brother if this wasn't a starting point for the Wiccan. And I like Billy, I do, I also (obviously) love Agatha, who was first introduced in WandaVision (I realize the hypocrisy), but it just doesn't work for me. I would rather think about the beautiful death scene with it's poetic tragedy than about white haired Agatha floating on a washing machine, I'm sorry.

That being said, I really really liked the whole show and I am happy to say I hooked in my best friend (if you are reading this, you are contractually obliged to like the post, you know how it is) and that I actually know other people irl who watched it and enjoyed it. I'm sad it's over and even sadder that in this day and age, noone will talk about it in about two to three weeks. Anyway, it was lovely.

[genderqueerdykes]

okay.

I’ve never seen your blog before now, and I don’t follow you.

but oh my fucking god thank you so much

as an it/its user (not my primary but I still wish people would use them) thank you so much. I’ve seen your posts on people disregarding it/its pronouns users because they just don’t want to use them and I just

thank you thank you thank you for talking about it

sorry if this makes no sense, it’s 9pm where I am and I spent all day at marching band practice so I’m extremely tired

thank you for your kind words! i really appreciate it!

i appreciate knowing how many other it/its users needed that to be said and how it has positively affected a lot of people. it's never okay for someone to put their personal discomfort over a set of pronouns over someone else being referred to correctly. this is misgendering. this is transphobia

it doesn't matter if the pronouns are "weird" or "uncommon"

i've gotten a lot of really fucked up asks about this and i'm going to keep talking about it because peoples' excuses for why they proudly and gladly misgender other people and refuse to use their pronouns are so petty and never that person's fault. it's never that person harming them, it's always that person projecting their trauma on to the it/its users. it's exhausting to read because nobody does this for he/him or she/her. it's specifically an issue with it/its beceause people overscrutinize it to hell and back and act like because they participated in the mental olympics over this one set of pronouns that they're right about it. they're not. they're rude, and anal.

people get stuck on the "it's dehumanizing" thing. this is such a divided argument, because for many people, they enjoy the dehumanization aspect of it, because they are nonhuman on some level. enough people are aware of otherkin, therians, and so on that i want people to understand that for some people this is a good thing and it is a desired effect. if you are uncomfortable with that, it's up to you to get past that, or learn to understand that you are not under attack because you are referring to someone else in a way that makes them happy and comfortable

other people just do not find it dehumanizing at all and that's fine. people often refer to babies and children with it/its, why can't we do this for adults? it's not inherently dehumanizing. it's not inherently an attack to use these pronouns for someone. some people love the ambiguity in the gendering. it really is totally devoid of gender and it is a very freeing set of pronouns to use, especially if you just refuse to see it as. not inherently dehumanizing

i am also very tired of people using trauma as a shield to enable them to misgender people. i am traumatized. i have diagnosed PTSD that i've been working on in therapy for 10 years as of this year. i have a lot of issues with being called she/her. i hate it most of the time. only select alters in my system use she/her. i do NOT refuse to use she/her for people who use only that pronoun set, or use it primarily. i would be viewed as transphobic if i said i avoid people who use she/her in order to avoid "traumatic memories from coming up." the thing is, that's going to happen sometimes and it's the trauma bearer's responsibility to deal with it accordingly.

just because you got triggered doesn't mean the other person meant to trigger you. you can't hold a trauma trigger AGAINST someone else who is not attempting to misgender you. when referring to someone with the correct pronouns, it is not YOU being called that set of pronouns. you are not being misgendered by correctly using another person's pronouns.

trauma is up to the individual to accept and overcome. hiding from a trigger perpetually for life will not enable you to accept it, cope, and move on. positive exposure to a trigger helps loosen that trauma's grip on you. you have to expose yourself to it in order to grow. hiding will keep you trapped in the situation you are currently in. you have to step into discomfort in order to learn how to overcome it.

thank you for sending this ask, you are very welcome and i'm really happy to hear you feel the same way. i'm glad you felt seen and heard, i am tired of people getting caught up on the pettiest things humanly possible. we ahve to stop reaching for every excuse to be transphobic to "weird" trans people we don't understand.

stop saying "WE NEED MORE WEIRD QUEERS LOL!!!!!!!!" if you can't even handle IT/ITS USERS !

[jalenay]

Nothing's Wrong with Dale - Publishing Update May 4 2024

So my work work is starting to relax - it'll be 'normal' working hours after May 15, but i'm manifesting some early additional free time (by ignoring some of the things i still have left to do) and i thought i'd give an update on my current NWWD plan to fill you guys in (if anyone wants to know) and to motivate myself to, you know, do it.

let me know what you think and if you have any questions! or if there's anything else you want to know!

So the overall plan is as follows:

First Rough Edit - this is basically just changing the POV from 2nd POV to 3rd POV. This is very tedious and currently what I'm doing right now. I'm also making a list as I go for high level updates/changes i want to make. Just thinking about the story as a whole and what tweaks i want to make now that the whole thing is finally done (primarily moving exposition around, if there's anything extra i can remove, timing of when certain things are discussed, and so on).

My Main Edit - this will be more time consuming but probably more fun as i do my main revise and edit of the story as a whole. i'll likely print the entire story out, make edits on hard copy, and then type up all the edits. I will also probably be sending the updated chapters to my main beta, for her opinion. (this would be the person i first texted about Dale in Dec 2021, she deserves first look lol)

Editor - After I'm happy with what I've done, i'll send the entire thing over to my editors, the main ones who worked on DSM. This will likely take a good amount of time (DSM took one month) but in many ways involves less effort from me lol. Just nerves.

Cover, Self-publishing Details - while my editors have the manuscript, I'll be narrowing down what I want the cover to look like and hiring a cover artist. (i've got a short list of artists right now, but i'll probably continue to refine that). I'm bad a visualizing covers and so this will be hard for me, although i have some basic ideas. i'll need to gather reference photos too and then work with the artist. I also want to publish more widely than just Amazon and will hopefully get DSM out to other places as well as a test run before NWWD. Look into more marketing? This is the most miscellaneous of the steps.

Process Edits - actually go through all the edits and notes given to me by my editor. This takes a lot of time (and is mentally taxing - no one likes to read pages of people telling you what you need to fix about what you wrote even if its overall extremely helpful and necessary)

Finalizing - I'll send the edited version to my first beta and another ARC reader/friend. I'll work on the formatting for the book. Coordinating where it will be published and when.

Publishing!

This is a loose list of steps that I mostly defined right now, but are similar to what i did with DSM. As i said, I'm in step one, currently just finished Chapter 25 of 36 of that rough edit.

I'll try to provide some updates on the process at it moves along, if people are interested in hearing about that. I'll most likely keep those updates on this blog, along with any other publishing specific commentary. if any one has any questions or thoughts on the whole thing, please feel free to send them to this blog or comment on this post.

I'm very excited to really dig into publishing NWWD and looking forward to sharing it with you!

Thanks to everyone for all their support - I wouldn't even be considering this (i probably wouldn't have even had a finished draft) with you!

[peachm1lkk]

『 A Special Donation 』

Synopsis — Marcus gets a unique requests regarding his favorite-least-favorite pain pig

Warnings — NONCON, Size Difference, Belly Bulge, you wear a Collar, Degradation, reference to past Torture, choking, Abusive Relationships, past Stalking mentioned, Mild Painplay, Face Slapping, Canon-Typical Behavior, Porn Without Plot, Facials, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, He cums in your hair, Verbal Humiliation, You're not a good person lol

Pairing — Marcus x Reader

A/N — Cross posted this on AO3, I love Marcus so much... My second favorite ball of hatred who'd I'd let break all my bones.. Can you tell this is loosely based off his Patreon Audio?? Maybe

It's uncomfortable, you note— The collar snugly tied around your neck. Another thing you note, other than the fact that you probably missed a ton of work in your classes, was that he hasn't been back in a while. You weren't really used to this… silence, that overcame the apartment when you weren't sobbing or pleading with him not to hurt you.

You glances down at the amateur attempt to wrap broken fingers, your begging never really worked. A soft sigh escapes your lips as you stand up, wobbling slightly from the bit of malnutrition you've been experiencing from eating only microwave meals and cup noodles— the brief dizziness isn't helped by the fact that you usually don't eat much anyway.

On the bright side, if you can even call it that, you've been picking up baking! Making a variety of sweets whenever he wasn't paying attention to you, those days tended to be the best because other than a few random photos he left you to your own devices.

Just as you were about to walk to the living room, the door to their shared dorm rattled, a few frustrated attempts being made before Marcus finally opened it. He was probably fumbling with the keys.

“U-uh… welcome home,” you softly said, keeping your eyes on the floor.

Marcus grunted in response, tossing his backpack onto the couch. “Your friend asked where you were today.” He informed, walking up to what used to be your camera to examine how long its been recording. A hint of a smile on his face as he hit the mute button, “It's actually kinda funny how worried she seemed… Do you think she knows that she used to be featured on your blog?”

Oh he’s in that mood it seems like, you don't even know what to say. What could you say? Usually any time you spoke— whether it be to apologize or say some shitty excuse it ended with you on the floor crying.

Thankfully, he seemed content with your silence, “You can speak y’know, they can't hear us speak right now… you're little white knight saviors I mean.”

You swallowed hard, your throat dry and constricted by the collar. you kept your gaze fixed on the floor, afraid to meet Marcus's eyes.

"I... I don't know," you whispered, your voice hoarse from disuse. "I never told anyone about it."

Marcus chuckled darkly, stepping closer. You instinctively flinched away, but the wall behind you left nowhere for you to retreat.

"Oh, I'm sure you didn't," he said, reaching out to run a finger along your collar. "Our little secret, right?" His touch made your skin crawl, but you forced yourself to remain still. Any reaction could set him off.

"You know," Marcus continued conversationally, "Someone made a donation today— A uh, what do you call it again? A commission, right.” you eyed him nervously as he walked over to the computer reading over past comments and forums regarding the live stream.

“Hey Piggy, you ever had sex before?” The question was as sudden as it was startling, “Pardon..?”

“I'm assuming you've had sex at least once since you have an ex and all that, but y'know… you're also you so I wouldn't be surprised if you've only seen two dicks in your life.” He goes on, much too casually for how personal the subject was— But maybe you didn't have a right to complain about privacy, god knows how many other people's privacy you've violated on those now privated posts.

“Hey pig, answer me.” The irritation in his voice has you tripping over your own words to get an answer out "You're right u-uhm… only done it with my ex.” you stammered, messing with the hem of your shirt with your good hand. “ No one else after that…”

Marcus's eyes gleamed with a mix of cruelty and excitement that made You's stomach churn. You could sense something terrible was coming. "You know how many times I thought about killing you when I found your little stalker forum?” He said changing subjects, grabbing the camera perched upon its stand. “I mean— It's disgusting, even now I still think about strangling you to death… Just the thought that you probably touched yourself to my photos makes me sick.” He takes a deep breath, his finger hitting a button on the camera that you couldn't remember the function for.

“How many times have you cum at the thought of my dick inside you?”

You felt sick, knowing that he wasn't entirely wrong “M-Marcus I'm sorry,” you whispered, even knowing it was futile you can never get rid of the instinct.

"Well, looks like today's your lucky day," he said with a smirk. "Our generous donor wants to see you fucked." Your eyes widened in horror. "What," you whispered, your voice trembling. "I-I can't...”

Marcus ignored your plea, grabbing your arm roughly. “And even if I can't kill you— I might as well fuck you like I'm gonna, right?”

He dragged you towards the bedroom, You stumbling behind him as you tried to resist. But months of captivity and malnourishment had left your weak and unsteady.

"Please, Marcus," you begged as he shoved you onto the bed. “I’m sorry I'm so sorry— please don't do this."Marcus laughed coldly as he loomed over your trembling form on the bed. "Sorry? You're sorry?” He mocked, “Sorry doesn't fucking pay for all the gross ass photos you’ve taken of me does it, pig?"

He set up the camera on the nightstand, angling it to capture the entire bed. Your heart raced as you heard the telltale beep of it starting to record.

“C'mon, Let's give our viewers a good show, I know how much you love their attention after all." Marcus whispered against the shell of your ear, You shuddered as Marcus's breath ghosted across your skin. Your mind raced, desperately searching for a way out of this nightmare, but you were trapped - physically and psychologically. Months of captivity and abuse had worn away your defenses.

"Please," you whimpered one last time, even as Marcus began pulling at your clothes.

He ignored your feeble protests, methodically stripping your bare. The camera's unblinking eye recorded every moment of your humiliation. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to retreat into yourself, to find some quiet corner of your mind that this wasn't happening. But Marcus wouldn't allow you that small mercy. He grabbed your face, forcing you to look at him. "Eyes open," he growled. "I want you to see exactly who's doing this to you."

Tears streamed down You's cheeks as Marcus positioned himself over your. Tugging his own pants down to let his thickness free, “Ha… ha— You're just meat…” He mumbles slowly stroking himself to full hardness, “Meat that was born to be taken advantage of, it was only a matter of time before someone found out… I was just the less cruel option.”

You choked back a sob as Marcus's words cut through your like knives. you wanted to argue, to insist that you weren't just "meat," that you were a person with hopes and dreams and dignity. But Maybe he was right. Maybe this was all you deserved. Marcus lined himself up, his eyes locked on You's tear-streaked face. "Remember," he whispered, "you brought this on yourself."

With that, he thrust forward brutally, burying himself inside your unprepared body. You cried out in pain, your back arching off the bed. It hurt - oh god, it hurt so much. But the physical pain was nothing compared to the crushing weight of shame and despair.

"That's it," Marcus grunted, placing a hand on your lower stomach "Cry for the camera. Show everyone what good rape bait you are.” He cooed, setting a brutal pace forcing his cock as far as your gummy walls allowed it — “ For once you being small is actually a plus,” he panted in between thrusts, watching the small bump in your stomach appear and disappear in time with each thrust.

His eyes glanced over at the camera, a part of him feeling truly disgusted at the type of people watching— But at the same time it made his dick throb so much harder, “You like that? Showing everyone that you're just a flesh light, hm?”

Your body shook with each brutal thrust, pain radiating through your core. Despising how despite the pain his deep fucking was enough to tickle the instinct out, to pull wetness that with each slap of his pelvis pressing against your ass a damned embarrassing wet squelch was made.

"Answer me," he snarled, grabbing your hair and yanking your head back. "Tell the camera how much you love being used like the worthless cum dump you are."

A strangled whimper escaped You's lips. "I-I..." you gasped, barely able to form words through the pain and humiliation. "I luh—love being- being u-used."

Marcus's pace grew even more frantic, his grip on your hips bruising. "That's right," he panted. "This is all you're good for. Just meat to stick my dick in…” Holding your hips up with one hand his free hand snakes down to your throat- applying pressure slowly

“Meat that doesn't need to—shit—breathe.” He mumbles, You's vision begins to blur as Marcus's hand tightens around your throat. Her lungs burned, desperately craving oxygen. Panic overwhelmed you as darkness crept in at the edges of your sight. Just as you thought you might lose consciousness, Marcus released his grip. You gasped and coughed, gulping in air. The brief respite was short-lived as Marcus resumed his relentless assault on your body.

"Fuck," he grunted, his thrusts loosing pace and becoming erratic. “You felt so tight just then, do you really get off to me raping you? Are you that cock hungry?” He teased, letting his hand fall to your puffy clit- rubbing cruel circles all over the ball of nerves “Fuck… I'm close. Where do you want it, pig? Where should I mark you as mine?"

You couldn't answer, still struggling to catch your breath. Her silence seemed to anger Marcus further. The burning sensation of his hand registering first before you realized he'd slap you, cruel fingers digging into your cheek, forcing you to look at him. "I asked you a question," he snarled. "Where. Do. You. Want. It?"

With pained moans you refused to believe came from genuine pleasure you stammered out a shaky response, “O-out— puh-please, not in- in me.” you sobbed,

Marcus's eyes glinted with cruel amusement. "Not inside, huh? Well, since you asked so nicely..." With a final brutal thrust, he pulled out of your abused body. You barely had time to feel relief before he was straddling your chest, his hand gripping your jaw tightly.

"Open wide," he commanded, stroking himself furiously. Too broken to resist, You parted your lips. Marcus groaned as he reached his climax, his release splattering across your face and into your open mouth. You gagged at the thickness and slimy texture, but Marcus held your still until he was finished.

"There," he panted, wiping himself clean on your hair. "Now everyone can see what a filthy little whore you really are."

He climbed off your, tucking himself into his pants. And walking over to the camera to stop the recording, leaving You trembling and soiled on the bed. you curled into yourself, trying your best to tune it all out and just go to bed.

“Oh, piggy—” He started grabbing your attention, “You have an essay due or something, your professor stopped me earlier today to tell you that.” He casually explained, as if he didn't just rape you.

“I should probably go work on that project... Pretty sure it's due soon,” He said to himself, lifting the camera up to eye level. You flinched at the familiar clicking sound of the camera, trying to keep your soft crying to a minimum even after hearing him mumble something about the picture probably not printing well. You lay motionless on the bed, your mind struggling to process the trauma you had just endured. Every part of you ached - your body from the brutal assault, your throat from Marcus's choking, your very soul from the depths of degradation you had been forced to.

you could hear Marcus moving around the apartment, the casual sounds of everyday life a stark contrast to the horror of what had just transpired. The urge to scrub yourself clean was overwhelming, but You couldn't bring yourself to move. you feared any motion might shatter what was left of your fragile psyche.

Time passed in a haze. You drifted in and out of consciousness, your exhausted mind seeking escape in fitful snatches of sleep. You were vaguely aware of Marcus returning to the bedroom at some point, muttering about needing his textbook.

"You should really get started on that essay," he remarked “It's due in a few days.”

[megamindsecretlair]

Be My Little Darling - Chapter 11

Chapter 10 Chapter 12

Pairing: Loki x Black!Fem!reader / Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+. Minors DNI. You are in charge of your own reading experience. ANGST. Dirty talk, mentions of grief and violence. Soft Loki, Jealous Loki

Summary: Loki is the exclusive owner of the hottest club in New Asgard. Dubbed the Nine Realms, each of the nine rooms represent a different realm. You are his second in command, working the floors and ensuring everyone is having fun. It has been a week since the dust up with Loki and you are not sure how much more you can take.

Word Count: 3,939k

Masterlist

A/N: I'm sorry it's been so long! My family are my opps. I will try to update this a little quicker, I'm excited to see where these two go. A little something something before we get into the nitty gritty. Likes are always awesome. Please consider commenting and reblogging to help support writers! I block ageless blogs!

Taglist: @cantstayawaycani @braverthanthenewworld @monaeesstuff @chaos-4baby @dayjlovesromance @soft-persephone @mybonafidefeelings @nerdieforpedro @browngirldominion @thecookiebratz @we-outsiiiide@foxherder @itzgabz22

“I hate it when Mom and Dad fight,” Sweetie muttered, just loud enough for your benefit. You ignored her just as you ignored the rest of the staff all week. They weren’t stupid, they could pick up on the tension between you and Loki. 

You weren’t ignoring him, not completely. He’d throw too big of a temper tantrum. But he was also unwilling to talk about what happened when you saw Thor. You just wanted him to budge, even a little.

He had forced you to confront things you hadn’t been ready to. Forced to draw out those deep grooves in your heart and put them up to a mirror in all its ugly glory. You cried in front of him. Bared your soul and body to him in a way you never had before. And what did he do? Completely shut you out.

You couldn’t survive in half a relationship. So sue you. You weren’t a half measure type of person. You loved and hated in absolutes. You didn’t know how to give up. It was why you were still looking for your family five years later with all evidence pointing to the inevitable truth: Thanos snapped them away.

Your heart cracked thinking of such a thing. That they were just…gone. There was no body to bury, no tomb to mourn. You couldn’t accept it yet. You couldn’t look your siblings in the eyes and tell them that there was no hope left to give.

So no. You weren’t giving up on Loki and you didn’t care how old he was, how powerful, or how much he considered himself a god. He would have to use his big boy words. 

“Sweetie, I’m expecting a visitor today. Please make sure to notify me,” you said. It wasn’t her job, but you smiled at her so that she got the message. 

“Do we need to Parent Trap them?” Honey asked, not bothering to be subtle. She sat with her usual suspects hunched over cups of coffee, bottles of water or juice, and random pastries. 

You grabbed your coffee, unable to fight the smile at the reference. Movies were something you all enjoyed once coming to Earth. As far as being stranded, it wasn’t that bad of a place to be. You all have torn through plenty of movies so far, Parent Trap being among the favorites. You were still shocked that the little girl wasn’t a real life twin. 

You walked over to the table while the group looked at you expectantly. Some leaned forward as if you were going to share something juicy. Others looked almost genuinely worried for you. You hated the pity. You didn’t owe them an explanation. 

“The saboteur has been too quiet lately, so make sure you keep your eyes peeled. This person likes to watch the chaos from the front seat,” you said. You smiled when they groaned and leaned back. 

“Princesa, please! We cannot live like this!” Honey said, her face scrunching up comically into a heartbroken frown. 

“You make it sound like we’re in Hel,” you said and chuckled. 

“He’s miserable without you,” Sugar said. 

You took a sip of coffee to stop yourself from going on a rant. You were their boss, not their friend. Though, some dark pleasure rippled through you at the thought of him suffering. You hoped your scent still lingered in his bed. The gods knew that you tossed and turned in your bed thinking of him between your legs.

And…that was enough of that thinking. You took a deep breath. “Loki is a god, as he likes to remind us. He’s fine,” you said.

They didn’t believe you. You didn’t give a shit. You had more pressing matters to worry about. Like supply requests and restock. A prickling awareness settled over you and you straightened up. 

Eyes snapped towards the door. This was all so dreadfully dramatic. You turned towards the door and saw Loki looking as delicious as ever. He couldn’t be that miserable and still look that damn good. It was unfair. His hair should be messy, clothes unkempt. Something. 

Your eyes skittered over his before you looked away. It still hurt too much that he didn’t trust you with the truth. And you weren’t the begging type. So you walked over to him. “Loki,” you said with a nod.

“Is it me or is it fucking icy right now?” You heard somewhere behind you.

“Mom and Dad need to figure it the fuck out,” you heard as well. 

“Darling, good morning,” he said. He stood and stared at you, making it hard for you to deny that there was anything amiss. He also blocked the damn door. 

“Morning,” you said, nodding towards the door. Loki dug his hands in his pockets. You glared at him but his face didn’t change. Nothing about him did. Your hand was beginning to shake. You longed to run your hands through his hair, pull him to you, and demand kisses and smiles. 

The staff was right, this was icy. Nothing like the heat and passion he was capable of. You moved to walk past him and he cut you off.

“We have to talk about the VIP list tonight,” he said. There. A wince. A crack. A glimpse into that stormy brain of his. 

“Well in hand, Loki,” you said. You smiled, turned around and bowed for the audience. “And scene. Back to work, you bunch of lazies,” you said. The tension in the room melted a fraction before you shoved past Loki and out into the hallway.

Loki trailed behind you. He made no sound but you were attuned to him like never before. You were always aware of him before. How he moved, how he talked, that smile that never failed to trick and tease. But it was amplified now. As if invisible strings connected the both of you. 

“Darling, stop,” Loki said. You took a deep breath at his deep timbre. That voice. Hell, let’s be honest. Everything about him drove you crazy. And you had resisted for five long, beautiful, torturous years. It was hard to quit cold turkey. 

Still you marched down the hallways towards your office. You weren’t going to make a scene here. 

Loki’s strong fingers wrapped around your arms, pulling you to a halt. You swung your arms wide, careful to avoid any slippage of your coffee. You growled, facing Loki finally. 

“You’re such a child,” you hissed. 

“You’re the one ignoring me like one,” he said. 

“I’m not ignoring you, I’m busy. Work, remember? The thing you hired me for?” You asked.

“Fine, then you’re fired,” he said.

You giggled. You immediately shut up because it wasn’t funny, not at all. You drank your coffee to hopefully scald your throat and prevent you from letting any more giggles escape. You weren’t done being angry. 

“You won’t even look at me anymore,” he whispered. His hand left your arm and he brought it to your face. He stopped before touching you and you finally looked into his eyes. The sight nearly robbed you of breath.

Away from prying eyes, he let you see the raw pain. The whites of his eyes were wide, mouth straining, jaw clenching. 

“Ready to talk about why you blew up at me?” You asked. 

“I already said–” 

“I have things to do, Loki,” you said. You turned on your heel. Turned away from that look in his eyes. If you stared too long, you’d cave. And you didn’t want to. You did the work and now he had to as well. 

Loki didn’t leave it there. He followed you to your office where he waited for you to settle behind your desk. He leaned into the doorframe, watching your every move. You moved a pen here, opened a folder there. But there was no way you were getting work done while he was here. His presence made your brain foggy and hands shake. 

Finally, the mounting pressure got to you. You slammed your hands on the desk and looked at him. “Why are you still here?” You asked.

He crossed his arms and took a deep breath. “I don’t like that you’re mad at me. Not when we’ve come so far,” he said. 

You leveled him with a stare. “This is on you. You love to talk but won’t talk about this. With me,” you said. 

“That’s not it,” he said with a scowl. 

“If you won’t talk, I don’t know what to think,” you said.

His jaw flexed more as he spoke. You’d give anything to know what he was thinking, what he was running through his mind. 

“Believe it or not, I have a hard time admitting faults,” he said, chuckling to cover what he said. 

“So you can stick your dick in my mouth but can’t tell me what’s on your mind?” You asked.

“Don’t be so crass,” he said. 

You’d have to be the bigger person here. Which you hated. But you took a deep breath and looked skyward, praying to the gods and ancestors in Valhalla for strength. “I told you no more running. I meant it. But as much as you say otherwise, I need this to be as equal as possible. You cannot demand everything from me and give none of yourself,” you said. 

“People are entitled to lick some wounds in private,” he said. 

“I’m not asking for every detail of your sordid history. I just want to know why you blew up at me. I only asked about why you didn’t want to speak to Thor,” you said.

Loki finally looked away from you, drawing his eyes downward. He frowned as he picked at an invisible lint on his jacket. “I can’t,” he said, with a sniff. He looked back at you briefly. 

You slowly nodded. “At an impasse, then. Get out, Loki,” you said. Your voice sounded tired to your own ears. You were weary, downtrodden. Maybe it was unfair to demand so much from him, something he clearly didn’t want to talk about. 

You had enough on your plate without worrying about Loki and his moods. You had decided over the course of the week that it hadn’t been a mistake sleeping with him. You had known bliss in his arms and that couldn’t really be a mistake. It just likely wasn’t going to happen again anytime soon. Not while he held on to whatever the fuck was preventing him from speaking. 

Never one to listen, Loki approached your desk. He leaned over it, planting his hands on it and leaning further still. His hair dropped forward like a curtain pulling open for a dramatic scene. His face could technically qualify as a dramatic scene. So many lines and planes, mouth made for sin and eyes dancing with mischief. 

“Darling, please. I–” he paused and just looked at you. His eyes moved, taking in your face. You didn’t know how you looked to him. Just another angry and bitter lover? A messy subordinate with a mouth that gave as good as it got? A once irreparably damaged Asgardian without a clue in the world? 

“I don’t like this between us. I finally got you in my arms, in my bed. I finally got a peek inside and it feels like you’ve closed the doors forever,” he said. 

“You’re the one unwilling to walk through it,” you said, softly. 

“And have you told me everything then? Every dark and horrible secret in your past? Like where you run off to every few months, disappearing at the drop of a hat? Every scar on your skin?” 

Your heart roared in your chest. It beat wildly, thumping against your rib cage. “You should know that I’ve shared far more than I ever cared to with you,” you said. You thought back to the day in his office when you finally let yourself feel. 

For the first time in a long time, you stopped disassociating. Stopped trying to hold it all in. You stopped trying to take flight while your feet were planted on the ground. And he helped you. 

“If you want to know where I disappear off to, I’ll tell you. It’s no secret. But only if I get to demand something too. Only if you let me in,” you said. 

“Ask me for anything else,” he whispered. His voice was so soft, softer than a raven’s wing. He rounded the desk and moved to stand in front of you. He got to his knees and looked at you. He was still damn tall, practically eye level with you. 

He grabbed your hand and brought it to his lips. “Ask me for anything else and I’ll give it. But not that,” he said. 

He kept his eyes on your hand, his lips resting softly against it. You brought your other hand to push his hair behind his ear. “That is my price, Loki.” 

He loosed a breath while your phone rang. The damn thing was still foreign, even after five years. You answered it. The front desk host let you know that your visitor was here. 

You pushed your chair back away from Loki and moved around him. He said nothing and made no noise while you left the room. Your heart felt like a rock in your chest. Each step you took from him felt like lead in your shoes. 

Still, you marched on. You walked to the front and greeted the Asgardian tracker you hired. He was impossibly tall, taller than Loki even. With smooth bronzed skin, short hair, but a host of tattoos criss crossing his bare arms. You didn’t know how he wasn’t freezing in this type of climate, but well, you weren’t going to complain. 

“Erik!” You said, wide grin splitting your face and you hugged him. 

He turned when he saw you, grinning. His smile was so heartbreaking. Why couldn’t you be head over heels for someone like him? He held on a second too long, having last seen him months ago. 

You grew up with Erik in your village on Asgard, running through the streets and getting into all kinds of trouble together. You had entertained something between you many, many years ago, but it was clear that you were better off as friends. You had already given your heart away a long time ago. 

You sat on a lounge chair in the front and tried to temper your expectations. But hope was a cruel thing. It cropped up, over and over no matter how many times you tried to squash and burn it within you. Erik settled next to you, but he wasn’t smiling. 

“No word yet on your family. The universe is very large,” he said. 

You nodded. You figured as much. You tried to hold it together, but throwing that door open within you opened yourself to it all. You felt the tears but you weren’t completely transformed. You blinked them away and squared your shoulders.

“I have people on it though. They’re out there,” he said. 

You shook your head. “They’re not.” You took a shuddering breath at that realization. Five years was too long to keep searching for people that clearly weren’t here, wasn’t it? The fall of Asgard had to have spread by now. For half of life to be eradicated, even people who had never heard of Thanos likely knew his name now. 

If not, well, they knew that those people were gone. Vanished from their lives. Turned to dust and never to be seen again. If Thor was here, all hope was truly lost. The Avengers he so affectionately ran with over the years had gone all but silent. If they were hopeless… 

“Perhaps it’s time to involve Heimdall,” Erik said.

You shushed him. You didn’t need that man turning his gaze on you. He was so eerie, seeming to know so many things. His eyes, like galaxies, were far wiser than your age. 

“I can’t. I can’t just walk up to him and ask. Maybe it’s time to call it,” you said. You didn’t want to say it. That same crack in your chest split wide open at the thought of stopping your search.

Erik grabbed your hand. “Hey, I’m not giving up,” he said. 

You patted his hand. “I’ve taken enough of your time. You have more important people to track down,” you said. Your voice warbled. You hated this. This was why you kept this shit locked away and buried at sea. 

“No one is more important than your family. They’re my family too,” he said. He scooted closer to you and drew you into his arms. You greedily took the comfort. He was always so warm and solid, giving the best hugs you’d ever known. 

“My, Darling, who’s your friend?” Loki’s voice cut into what had been a sweet and peaceful moment. 

You cracked one eye open, trying to disengage from Erik. But he was slower to let you go. He hadn’t missed the deadly tone of Loki’s voice. Where the hell did he come from anyway? 

Erik stiffened, turning fully around to face the larger threat. Loki had a devilish smile on his face, but his eyes were seething. 

“Loki, this is Erik,” you said. Before you could explain further, Erik stood up and blocked your view of Loki for a moment. Erik held out his hand and Loki shook it, keeping that smile on his face.

“Erik, haven’t seen you around,” Loki said. His eyes slid towards you and you inwardly groaned. 

“Erik has–” 

“I pop in every few months to check in on her,” Erik said. 

“Every few months? Really?” Loki smiled at you. Shit, shit. 

“He’s–” 

“Any friend of Darling’s a friend of mine,” Loki said. 

You narrowed your eyes at Loki. You didn’t know what game he was playing but you weren’t in the mood. “Erik has been looking into something for me. Right, Erik?” You stood up and nudged his shoulder to agree with you. His eyes were still trained on Loki. What was this, a fucking pissing match? 

“I was just telling Darling that I’d like to meet more of her friends. We see so little of them,” Loki said. He sauntered around Erik, putting his arm around you. “I like to make sure she’s happy. Always.”

Your eyes bugged out of your head. Erik took in Loki’s arm around you and lifted an eyebrow. “Keeping secrets, are we?” Erik asked. He crossed his arms and stared at you, putting you on the spot.

You licked your lips slowly, trying to describe what you and Loki were to each other. Boyfriend? Boss? Occasional sadistic charmer? 

Loki hugged you close and you looked at him. He smiled at you, leaning down to kiss your cheek. “Didn’t tell him about me? I’m a little hurt,” Loki said. Still with that damn smile. You were starting to panic. You might’ve been a little afraid of what he’d do. 

Loki moved his right hand to lift up your chin and plant a small, but sultry kiss to your lips. You gasped and he drank it down with a low hum. “Always so private,” he said against your lips.

You were going to murder him. Your hands itched with magic dancing between your fingertips. A dagger? A sword? You were going to cut him down where he stood. 

“Erik, he’s–” 

“Loki, of Asgard, everyone knows,” Erik said. He raised his eyebrow at you but you didn’t know what he was trying to communicate. 

“Will you two shut the fuck up?!” You yelled. You drew the attention of some patrons who cast little glances towards you. The host stood in the corner with a few staff members, Honey among them, as they stared at all three of you. They saw the kiss. Your shoulders deflated. There went the little bit of respect you had around here. 

“Erik is a childhood friend who has been looking for my family. They went on a trip when the Snap happened so I don’t know if they’re out there, looking for us, or if they’re gone,” your breath hitched on the word ‘gone’ but you persisted. “Loki is…Loki. We’re figuring it out. Now, say hi to Denby for me,” you said, looking at Erik who slowly smiled. 

You shoved off Loki’s arm around you. “As always, you’ve gotten what you wanted and made out like a thief,” you tossed at him. 

“You’re no better than he is,” you told Erik.

You stormed off. Leaving everyone in the dust. An ache thumped in your head. You needed away. Away from here with all of its bullshit. 

“Darling!” Loki called after you. This time, you heard his steps behind you, heard him walking down the hall. You ignored him. Your fists clenched and unclenched. Your teeth grated. You were fuming with nowhere to direct the anger.

Loki caught up to you outside of your office once more. You pushed him when he was in arm’s reach. “What the fuck was that?!” You yelled. 

You were in the back, well away from any patrons. The hallways had music playing, soft muzak that kept up the hazy and alluring vibe of the club. Each room played its own music so there was no danger of being overhead. Except the staff. You imagined the rumors flying like wildfire, distracting the staff and performers. You were going to be sick. 

“A miscalculation,” he said. 

“What?” You said. He swooped in and waved his stake in the air like you were some prize he won over a miscalculation? 

“I didn’t know about your family–” 

“You would have. I would have told you. As always, you want and you want and you-”

“I have always maintained that I want you because you’re mine,” Loki said. All sense of propriety was gone. Extra eyes be damned. He advanced on you and pushed you against the wall. 

“Completely mine. Mine to do with as I please,” he said. His lips traveled from your temple down to your neck, bypassing your lips. Your body instantly reacted. Craved him. Craved another hit of what he could bring you. 

You grabbed his jacket and turned around, pushing him against the wall. He grinned as if he won. As if you would give in and forget all about your ultimatum. You licked the long expanse of his neck and his breath fanned over your skin. 

You pulled back and smiled at him. He grinned back, hanging his head and looking up at you through his pretty eyelashes. Then you slapped the smirk right off of his face. He licked his lips as if he meant to taste the sting. You raised your arm again and he caught your wrist.

“Darling, not in mixed company,” he said. He gave you a wink. “Save it for later.” 

“You are the most arrogant, infuriating, child-like, obnoxious–”

“Do keep going,” he interrupted.

“Confusing man I’ve ever met! You irritate the fuck out of me! You…bastard,” you said. 

“I don’t know how else to be,” he said.

You yanked your wrist out of his hand. You were breathing too heavy. You couldn’t get enough air in your lungs. You wanted to smack him. You wanted to curse him. You wanted to toss him into hot lava and see if he’d melt. You wanted to kiss his stupid face. 

“We promised no lies between us. And if you can’t give me that Loki, you can’t have me.” 

He opened his mouth to say something, all hints of playfulness gone. But then the lights went out and the screaming started.

Masterlist | Chapter 10 | Chapter 12

[ashsostrange]

"averagegirlie" is just "xxoxobree", formerly known as "breeandhermunches" on a burner. newsflash, your "fav" miles writer isn't who you think she is!

ik a lot of us must be VERY confused so let me help you out. @/averagegirlie and @/xxoxobree are the same mfkn person! why did bree make this account? i assume that it's so she could fend for herself and keep the "unbothered" act up on her main page. that's why she deletes all her reblogs after arguing w someone then comes over to this account to start bsing. not to mention she can say extremely problematic things with no repercussions, because she doesn't have a following on that page + it's not tied to her.. at least it wasn't before! bree's a very messy liar. i peeped the truth so lemme share it w y'all.

bree if you're seeing this, go take a couple shots before you read. you should've kept it cute but you didn't, so let's get nasty mf.

i have receipts! let's start right here cz i find this the funniest:

nobody but her spells "internet" like that... this is one of the many examples of the two accounts talking alike, even though bree said she wouldn't refer to "yao" as a friend when the whole rashad thing was going down. yesterday, i reminded yao of that. she said "i like bree, so what" but she deleted that and changed it to "when are y'all gonna catch on to the fact that we talk?" mhm.. bree's a lil confused, but next!

y'all see "yao's" tag? telling alexa to play some bs... then y'all see bree?? NEXT!

go look on miss average's page. she only comes online to defend and ride the hell out of bree's dick. remember ts w amani? why are you going so hard for someone who says they dk you like that LMFAO. not to mention, when the rashad shit was happening, bree said "this my girl and she never been wrong" but then she turns around and says "i wouldn't say we're friends" WHICH ONE IS IT MISS MUNCH??! 😭🤣🤣 next!

why we praising tf out of bree's oc? ts was ai bro. we got a self supafan. next...

look at this smart anon, putting tg the pieces and shit. "ash and dalia fight your battles every time" is literally.. a lie. what battles are we referring to? talia's never in drama as much as you're implying. and ima ride for my friends anyway, tf? but my entire blog will never be centered around ONE human being. it ain't that serious ever. "yao" and bree need hobbies cz writing obv ain't doing it for her. next.

bree has also said she's messy lol. she likes drama. hm!

look at how she came on her white horse when bree was battling the great war w anons over miles morales smut (which i don't fw, js to be clear.) who summoned her? BREE LMFAIOFHDGFKJAS... NEXT!!!

here's miss xxoxo munches being ableist, much like her alter ego. bro went silent and blocked lia after this. now let's get into miss average again.

look at this bs. ion even gotta say much.. this girl is black & not chinese!! y'all should know why this is weird. here's the "evidence" she gave me btw:

here's me proving her wrong! she tried! next.

y'all see the way they're tagging their posts w their usernames? mhm.. ik you do.

HMMM....

these are both bree. i don't mean to bring up maye again, but i have to for context. what happened wasn't js "drama"... the things she said to dalia were racist + that post she was lyin' about lia in. she also liked the post.. dead giveaway you silly bitch! 🥱 nd she was also instigating in honey's inbox. i know her typing style and her emoji colors lol. it's common sense atp. it's not hard to tell when an anon is bree. and from what i'm seeing not even maye is fw her.. LMFAISAIDHSAY GIRL YOU'RE DONE! 😭 feel free to go thru their accs, you'll see ts too. she's funny asf for this, i'll give her that and that only. i've never laughed so much in under 24 hours. 💓

in conclusion, bree is messy, bored, insecure, ableist & miserable! she thought nobody would ever find out but here we are today. she fronts not gaf but then switches to this acc to let off some serious steam... as miss freeman once said: "Alexa, play yikes!"

but bless bree 💗 maybe if you change now, you'll still be able to collect your tokens like dalia says.

[herejusttosufferalong]

Hey, I am new to ur blog and totally love it!! Definitely my fav one on here & thank u for putting out ur perspective!

So, idk if this has been discussed here before (been here only for the past 2 days.. will deep dive into it🫡) but just wanted get some things off my chest as this blog seems to be a safe place to voice it out.

1. In one of their recent ivs with Kiss fm when asked about how to get out of the friendzone, he agrees to some extent with Nic, but when the interviewer said "just do a me & stay there", L was immediately jumped in to agree and looked visibly nervous, clearing his throat - this solidifies my opinion that he has feelings for her is and is afraid to confront them.

2. I may be reaching with this one, but I think the cast also knows what's up with them? Like Claudia keeps referring to herself as 3rd wheel, Johnny giving a teasing smile to LN when he talks about N and Luke T glancing at them while saying "fear of falling in love" & "oh, personal advice" when LN talked about insecurities.

3. Not to forget in the friendzone or love iv, she raises her brows & hits him with the paddle as of calling him out for sending "mixed message". Also, when she says "don't call me bro, pal or dude if u kiss me" seems to be directed at him. This is the only interview I couldn't get through cause the tension between them was seeping through the screen.

They definitely seem to have some kind of attraction towards each other but holding off for some reason (in some of the interviews they did prior to the promo tour, the ones they did indoors, he keeps giving her googly eyes & scanning her face with his eyes with a smirk & he wasn't like that with claudia. You can see N doing the same to him on some instances). My guess is that N has her guard up as she said she is cynical about love and probably decided to stay friends with him as it could affect their work life (but the maks slips off time and again). I believe that they caught feelings while filming s3 and it might've surprised both of them (remember, his break up with Jade also happened around the same time, she started dating someone else right after breakup so I cant help but notice how the timeline overlaps). He had just then got out of a LT relationship & probably they didn't want to act on his feelings. I am assuming all their bottled up emotions came out with full force once they reached the end of the promo.

From what I understand, they seem to be having an on/off relationship in terms of their feelings, very much like the ross & rachel dynamic he so often keeps mentioning (he said that Polin never get the timing right which is kinda untrue considering once C realised his love he got P, he seems to be talking about Nic & himself). I think the lines were really blurred & at this moment both of them are confused as to what/how they feel.

Now coming to him dating A, I think for him he believes dating A is safer cause he isn't going to lose anything there but with N if it doesnt work out he is going lose their friendship (like it happened with J for him). He really is like Colin & in L's own words, I hope he "gets some vision" & sees "what is right infront of him". For me, it looks he is probably lost right now & acting out cause he doesnt how to deal with his feelings for N.

Apologies for making it so long, I hope u find time to read it, but i had to get it out of my system cause its getting really tiresome to see people calling them disingenuous & questioning their friendship/love they have for each other & labelling it as PR/fake when in reality their dynamic seems too complicated.

First off, thank you and I really appreciate it!

Secondly, thank you for sharing, I pretty much agree with everything you said.

The only point I will add is in Brazil N mentioned that she used to be more cynical about love but that it was changing. Which was apparently a conversation that her and L had.

Then in the KISS interview she said that she loves love.

This is quite the progression. I'm interested to know what caused this change and why now? I have my suspicions...

[our-aroace-experience]

Hi, I love this blog tysm for running it!

I have a friend that I used to be very close to, but since I came out to her as aroace she keeps saying/doing weird things? And sometimes I think her real issue might be with me being aromantic, but she always references me being asexual? Idk she could have an issue with both, but we have other ace friends and she’s never treated them weirdly and I’m the only one who’s aroace.

Anyways she “accidentally” outed me to a girl that we were casually hanging out with. She says she didn’t even realize she’d done it, but she directly said it multiple times and worked it into multiple stories within a pretty brief timeframe. I confronted her about it later and she apologized and said she thinks she did it (again accidentally) because she was sleep deprived and defending me because this girl had previously not liked me and been rude to me the day before because I didn’t reciprocate her friend’s crush on me. My friend apparently wanted to make sure this girl knew it “wasn’t my fault I didn’t like him back”. Which is like oddly infantilizing, I think? It wouldn’t be my fault or morally wrong for me to not like him back even if I was straight. And it’s not like I was ever mean to him about it, we were friends for a bit, too. (He has a gf now and we don’t really talk anymore.)

And this isn’t the first time my friend has done something like this either. When I was first figuring it out she seemed really happy for me, but we’d be at parties or hanging out with people and she’d start telling a story and then remember that me being ace was relevant to the story and would pause and ask in front of the person if I was okay with them knowing, which kind of defeats the purpose. Like what am I going to do? Say no? They already know that something is up, at that point I’m just clarifying what.

And I complained to her about how another close friend had developed a crush on me and how things got really tense and awkward between me and him because we weren’t communicating well and when I told her I just wanted him and I to be close friends like we had been before his crush, she told me I couldn’t expect that level of emotional intimacy without having sex. Which is probably a bad sign for all of her relationships.

I like being aroace a lot and it’s not something I’m ashamed of, but it also isn’t anyone I don’t want to know’s business. I’m not out to my family because I’m scared of how they’d react to me being queer, so it makes me really nervous that my “best friend” accidentally outs me to people. And it makes me sad because she was the first person I told.

i’m sorry to hear it, i hope things improve for you! maybe try telling your friend not to bring it up if you haven’t already?

[mylifeforchloe]

This a little abnormal for my blog as far as the kinds of posts I make, but I feel like this kind of a Public Service Announcement (PSA) is necessary for the fandom. Things like this make me really concerned-- not only for the LIS3:DE (new Max story) story that is going to be told, but also for the quality of working environment for those who work at Deck Nine.

Quotes from the linked article that bothered me...

[Edit: Original post was a link post with text after. I saw the link in the edit screen and scheduled the post. For some reason this caused the link to get removed when the article was actually posted. Editing to put the link in the original article. I also posted a follow up (before editing the original) to include the same info. Editing original for completeness only.]

Nazi imagery would be inappropriate in most games, but in a Life Is Strange title the dissonance was especially frightening.

...

According to over a dozen current and former employees across several departments, most of whom spoke to me on condition of anonymity for fear of reprisal, Deck Nine’s management has long let a toxic work culture fester at the studio. They claim the C-suite has protected multiple abusive leaders, encouraged crunch, and allowed bullying of individuals advocating internally for more authentic representation in Life Is Strange.

...

When they saw this version of the [True Colors] scene, a number of people pushed back, arguing that the scene would unintentionally trigger associations with date rape.

...

“It took a three hour meeting in the writers room and one of the writers sharing an extremely personal story to get Zak to agree to get the content out,” said Littleton. “It wasn’t about us not wanting to have difficult topics in there, but Life Is Strange shines because that type of content is chosen extremely deliberately and it’s given runway, it’s given space to breathe. This detail is irrelevant to the plot, it would have been traumatic for players, and there was no space to unpack it. We don’t have time to talk about what it means for Alex to be roofied by a man she trusted.”

fuuu...

Another anonymous source recalled Garriss suggesting that this pushback was only occurring because he was making a game about a woman, and that he wouldn’t have to deal with this if he was making a game about Nathan Drake.

fuuuuu...

[After Garriss' quit voluntarily] Once news got out [that Deck Nine mamagement wanted to re-hire Garriss], the narrative team erupted. Multiple people begged management not to bring back Garriss in a series of meetings, messages, and emails. One person familiar with leadership at the company recalls HR stepping in, noting that management was actively underpaying a number of workers, especially women, while considering a massive salary for Garriss. HR allegedly suggested that Deck Nine could be legally liable for Garriss’ behavior if they invited him back after the bevy of reports. When the company CEO and CFO persisted in arguing that they needed Garriss, multiple writers handed in resignations.

fuuuuuuuuu...

And given that what we've seen in the teaser videos are either

Missing any reference to Chloe

Including a minimalist reference (like a photo on the wall)

Including an awkward reference (Safi? asking Max about the blue haired girl in the picture Max keeps.)

And given that

3a - Either Bay ending, Max keeps a photo of Chloe from before the storm, or

3b - Max keeps a photo of Chloe, but Chloe isn't in her life (possibly not in her life any longer.)

And given that

Costs of developing a story where Chloe is present in only half of the story (the Bae ending version) and the ripple effect that might have on the plot...

I simply do not believe that Chloe will be a meaningful component. And the choices Max is making across dimensions, and the risk of not getting back to Chloe if she were still alive and still part of Max's life... the plot shown doesn't make any sense to me.

So I wasn't going to buy LIS3 to begin with, not without a proper story that included Chloe's presence in Max's present life. And now, after this article, I'm even less likely to buy [anything from D9, ever again,] knowing the cultural depravity of the development studio.

I would, of course, love to be wrong on all counts.

[gleefultogo]

Aira Character Talk

Since Aira was mentioned again in Saltyplaytoons (spongebob reference? Lol, funny either way) blog post I wanted to take a deep dive and talk about her. Plus at this point she’s the only pure character that deserves to be rescued from this shit comic and not written by a misogynist. She get’s shit on for no fucking reason. 

It is very well known now that kique has stated that she is his “least” favorite character. Why? Probably because she’s another female character he made and got bored of her. Honestly it saves her the injustice he would have given her if she had more screen time.  When we first met Aira, she was stuck in her creature form. I thought at first she was an evolved creature that was based on Aedra and her beast form was pretty cool in my opinion it looked like a mix between a cat and a dog. Which btw people was made and turned into by a Spirit, so that quickly leads my thoughts into rhov’s and feaf’s future kids. If a spirit can turn a dog into an evolved creature, then it’s very much possible because of the spirits for them to have hybrid kids. Will it be canon? I don’t know, like many have said; it’s obvious kique is bored of his own comic and shoved into our faces just to keep pages being pumped out with nothing really interesting. For me, I see the comic as a sitcom show that just goes nowhere and the characters do and say random stuff that doesn’t revolve around their world or plot. Besides, you can’t tell me half of the characters in this world wanna sit cooped up in one area based on “Tribes” Dog’s just don’t do that they would have way too much pent up energy and would need to run. Can you just imagine if this comic was realistic,  the dog's muscles and bone structure would become weaker because they aren’t doing anything really, they just sit in one place and that's it. Ok sorry, back to Aira :) 

   (Aira’s first appearance form)

You see what I mean though? She resembles a sorta dog and cat hybrid mix. The paws are a dead giveaway as they look like a feline and she has retractable claws. It’s a neat design in itself. I'll give kique that much of any positivity for his comic XD. 

Very Interesting design features if you ask me. Anyways, Aira gets killed by kargo and she wakes up a normal dog again and sets off into the woods to heal her wounds I guess? Probably also went to seek shelter maybe. We later on see her again on page 138. Heavily bleeding still and this when she meets keirr and you know how it goes. He ends up helping her and she’s taken aback from being surprised I guess, which is quite valid of her character, as we do eventually learn about her backstory and she was never treated kindly by others. Aira is a character who’s a really good example of someone who would have a “fixation” on someone, I don’t think it would personally be a bad thing and realistic to her character because she’s never been treated so kindly before and i don’t think she’d be able to help herself with that mindset. She obviously took comfort in keirr  as she hesitated to follow him at first, but also because he was offering to help her and wasn’t appearing a threat to her.

  (oh look when keirr was actually a nice guy, before becoming a dick to her) 

Moving forward. Keirr takes her back to her cave and was suspicious why she was living in such a large area for one individual. Aira remains mute and just eats the food she was given. Which I suppose was rude on her part, but her communication skills seemed to be lacking as she was trapped inside a body and couldn’t talk for a long time, ok at least that makes sense because there is a valid reason enough for her to be doing that. Eventually keirr leaves her behind as she is now safely placed back into her sheltered area. But she ends up following him and keirr ends up venting to her about why he couldn’t go back to his family, he was understandably grieving over zilas. I find these next few parts important to Aira’s character. She willingly sits there even if not knowing him for not a very long time. But she sits there and listens to him vent and doesn’t question him, that’s just an empathetic thing and it's wholesome to have seen that in the comic as they being the characters actually talked about things that troubled them, and it didn’t lead to sex confrontation. She may not have known him very long, but she’s a character that gives off a warm and comforting vibe, like a friend you can tell anything too without her judging because she obviously cares about others. 

Later keirr ends up following her and getting to know her more. Then we see a page with them together and keirr is giving her physical therapy? 

(hey keirr how do you know about PT?). They end up jumping over some logs to strengthen her legs or whatever. Kinda pointless in a way if she was born with a weak structure. It’s like saying you can just magically cure a dog with mobility issues with just some PT. Wellll nope, it’s much harder and time consuming. Plus it won't fully heal someone with a physical disability, it may help strengthen her a bit, but she wouldn’t be able to fully walk normally. Compare it to a dog who was born with swimmers syndrome or cerebellar hypoplasia. That’s a lot of PT work and also medication in order for them to walk to a degree. It’s not something that can fully be cured, so Aira’s 180 later on would be really stupid when the author wrote her this way. 

Now the next page (198) is important, keirr states he has to go back home cause he’s been gone for too long. Aira very clearly goes into panic mode and begs keirr to stay with her because she clearly states she doesn't wanna be “Alone” She’s told to basically just shut up and he’ll return soon whenever. Again Aira panics and kisses keirr forcefully. 

Now I find that quite sad and interesting for her. I’m not a therapist or a physician by any means. But this is my own take on this situation. Aira is using a tactic that almost feels like she is forcing her own affection onto keirr, not being in control of her own body due to her panicking. In a way, yes Aira did sexually assault keirr and he had every right to confront her about it because it was wrong of her. He leaves her behind anyway to go back to his family. Aira is then left with what looks like the expression of shock and most likely guilt because she’s being left behind again and most likely processing stuff in her head. I'd like to believe that her mind is very scattered due to her having issues of being left behind. 

We then proceed to see Aira again and most likely took keirr’s words to heart and goes back to the spirit of strength because she feels weak without and can’t survive. She practically feels hopeless without that spirit, keirr stops her and then asks was it because of him? Keep that in mind. Aira is obviously upset in this scene and then tells keirr her back story and the things she did. She basically claims that she went back to the spirit because of Keirr, she was upset. It’s like if someone told you as a person, that you weren’t good enough for them, nor did they want you around them because to them you felt like a burden. I wouldn’t be surprised if Aira was the first dog in the comic to commit suicide because she deems herself as a burden and was never accepted. If the spirits didn’t exist and the comic took more of a dark turn, I think she would have been a character to have that type of mindset. 

Eventually keirr takes Aira under his wing with a better understanding of her to a degree. She proceeds to then help him look for his family as she’s apparently traveled all over the map while being a beast at the time and saw many tribes fall and create new ones. We meet the deer rp tribe and then kique puts them there because he doesn’t know what to do with them at that moment. Aira is then very clearly seen to be hesitant and doesn’t wanna join them because they were just going to ask if they saw family members of keirr’s. But then the 180 happens and they join anyway. Keirr becomes a dick and then judges fucking Aira behind her back  because of the jarl confronting her leg structure. Yeah hey morons, maybe she's struggling because she got a giant ass heavy deer rack strapped to her head and has weak legs, antlers are not light things. Of fucking curse she’d be struggling. 

Honestly that’s when I started hating keirr the most, like why the fuck are you jugding her? She literally told you she was born with a mobility disability and was tossed aside for it. *sighs* She ends up stuck with Keirr as a Herbalist, like kique? The fuck man, how stupid can you be. You made a character with a physical disability who struggles with that and you give her a rank that requires to walk a lot? Like what? She’d be a terrible herbalist because she’d probably take much longer to even get to a location and back to the tribe. She has to carry her weight around. How frustrating, it’s like he literally forgets his own character traits they have. Like if you didn’t wanna deal with a character with a disability then why give her one if you're gonna 180 it.

Page 481. The page that did it all for me and hated this dude's guts. Ok so even if Aira did end up stuck in a tribe she didn’t wanna be, plus she looks absolutely miserable in the panel. She literally got excited when he returned with bootleg kargo after their little flirting session or whatever that was. 

    (look at the sweet baby… I love her)

Like damn keirr, you should be fucking honored that someone likes you for you and your company, plus she was even worried about you. He could have easily just told her he was being sent to scout, like keirr did you not forget that you joined the tribe when you didn’t have too? Like at all. Aira stated to you that she didn’t wanna be there and wanted to go back to looking for your family. But whatever, he gives her the cold shoulder and tells her to suck it up and build connections with a tribe of strangers. God I really want to just rewrite this page at times. Keirr should have welcomed her with open arms (or paws) and told her about his travels and that he didn’t find what he was looking for unfortunately. Like why did you diss the only character who showed remorse and care for you. She obviously likes having you around and because you took her under your wing, you have no right to be a moody dick to her. This is when I see abandonment issues come into play. As someone who has abandonment issues myself, Aira is so frikin relatable. It hurts a lot when you think about it and you're stuck in your head wondering what you did or if you're doing something wrong to have someone push you away like that. It’s the worst feeling ever and poor Aira here basically got rejected from someone she clearly cares about. 

    (She looks so lost and heartbroken in this page)  But like keirr, dude how the fuck did you forget that she told you earlier on before you joined the stupid tribe. That she literally went back to the spirit because of YOU. That’s basically her struggle, Rejection and being alone. I’m disappointed that some of the people were siding with keirr on this page. In reality if a friend asked about your mental health and you told them to fuck off in, just because your moody. Then be damned if they leave your ass. That's such a shitty thing to do to a person. Aira is no exception and didn’t deserve any of that. And sadly it only gets worse for her as even when he did do that, she still looked out for him and had to save his ass from a ghoul. 

(She cares about him still)

      (Fuck you keirr, you should have thanked her)

I’d also like to point something out. But in a certain page, Aira claims she lived with the meteor tribe. I’m unsure if she was referring to a beast or when she was a normal dog before cursing herself? 

If that’s true then could Aira quite possibly be a victim to rape as well? I didn’t think much of it at first because the wording confused me for a while. But going back it made me think. If she was used by MT before arenak rules then she’s very much understanding when it comes to her trauma and issues she has. In conclusion Aira seems like a complex character with her own trauma and if it was written better, it would have been interesting to see her overcome her said trauma. She’s a literal victim, a lot more than what kique claims rogio and his “mental chains” bullshit. Aira didn’t have a choice in her life,she didn’t ask to be born the way she was or have to deal with not feeling wanted by others. I feel if kique actually knew how people worked when it came to trauma and one’s mental health and emotions. Aira and keirr could have been a great duo for each other and helped support each other as friends and grew a good connection based on needing each other in a certain time because they were struggling. Sexual intercourse during trauma isn’t something that’ll help someone. It's only a distraction really at the moment. But again it shouldn't be a way out when you're in your feelings and all that. It’s quite unhealthy. I’ll say it again, Aira deserves better and needs out of this terrible comic. 

[that-ari-blogger]

Get Ready (No Good Deed)

Joseph Campbell is famous for writing The Hero With A Thousand Faces, in which he put forward the concept of the Hero’s Journey, or Monomyth. This, boiled down, is a series of plot beats that most stories ever written hit in some way or another, at least to Campbell.

Campbell is one of my favourite literary scholars to disagree with, but one thing that I believe he got right was the idea that he called “The Belly Of The Whale”. This has gone on to become the darkest hour trope, a moment when everything seems lost before the protagonist picks themself up.

In Wicked, the story of Elphaba picking herself up is told by the song No Good Deed, which dwells on the emotional low, but also the resolution she makes as a result. This song changes the trajectory of the entire musical, and is a masterclass in writing a threat.

Let me explain.

SPOILERS AHEAD (Wicked, Avatar: The Last Airbender)

“Eleka nahmen nahmen ah tum ah tum eleka nahmen.”

The song opens with gibberish, it’s inspired by Greek, Latin, Italian, and other languages. But it is bastardised to sound more mystical. Like a language that could be true but isn’t.

It’s also weird when it comes to the phonetics. Each of the words (I’m counting “ah tum” as one word for this) takes up the same time to say aloud, but the “ah” is naturally drawn out because more stress is being put onto it. It forms a rhythm similar to a horse’s galloping, implying motion.

Keep an eye on that, this song is all about motion.

That actually translates into the plot of the wider musical. This song is changing the tone of the story as a whole, pushing it into a tale of revolution.

The conflict of this story is brought on by the “death” of Fiyero and Elphaba’s love. Achieving change and achieving personal happiness are not compatible in this story, at least not for Elphaba.

But incompatibility is an important theme here. Elphaba has been trying to achieve things in her way. She tried to enact change through the Wizard, and when he turned out to be a schmuck, she tried to help people, stir up change and hope that good deeds get rewarded by fate.

I have mentioned in the past that Glinda and Elphaba’s relationship was characterised by the former being the more world wise and Elphaba being naive. That’s what Popular is about. However, this is a change of status quo, paired with Glinda’s rendition of I’m Not That Girl, showing the reversal of that dynamic. Now Elphaba is truly cynical, and her eyes are opened to how the world works, and Glinda has been fooling herself the entire time.

In the opening of this blog, I referenced Campbell’s “The Belly Of The Whale” concept. The name of that is actually a reference to a biblical tale, in which a prophet uses the inside of a fish as free transport and therapy.

I want to draw that biblical reference back in here. Do you notice anything about how Elphaba’s wishes are phrased?

“Let his flesh not be torn Let his blood leave no stain Though they beat him Let him feel no pain Let his bones never break And however they try To destroy him Let him never die Let him never die”

Do those remind anyone else of the opening of Genesis?

“And G-d said, let there be light. And there was light.” Genesis 1:3

There is a very specific wording here that evokes that biblical concept of divinity. In the Bible, the only people and entities that speak in this way are either G-d, people talking about G-d, or people praying. No Good Deed is explicitly drawing on that speech pattern to imply the divine symbolism with Elphaba.

This isn’t the first time the musical has done this. I keep referencing older posts that I have made in this series on Wicked, but that’s because the musical does set up and payoff really well, and I have to talk about callbacks. But, my first post in this series was titled The Gospel of Elphaba, and I did that for a reason.

One of Wicked’s most interesting story techniques is its biblical allusion. Elphaba is explicitly framed as divine in this song, but also by how she is referred to in a few other places. This has the effect of implying a change in history. Elphaba’s life will change Oz for good, and this is the story of how that happened.

Now, I am not a Christian, I am coming at this from the angle of study and having lived in a very Christian environment for most of my life. So, while I am trying to treat this with the respect befitting any faith, I want to stress that I am far from a perfect, definite source on anything related to Christianity.

I've brought up this artwork by @abd-illustrates (youtube) before, when I was talking about Defying Gravity. But the piece is about No Good Deed, and its so amazingly well done, coming from a place of obvious love for the song and the musical, that there was no chance that I would miss a chance to show it again.

On a different note, the things that Elphaba wishes for in this song are vague as all hell, and the implication of Fiyero being turned into the scarecrow because the lawyers found a loophole in his resurrection contract is neat.

That implication is really important for the theming of the story, and it happened earlier on in the musical when Boq became the tin man. The magic expresses the theme of consequences rather concisely. Nobody knows what effect they will have on the world and on history, you can just try to make the world a better place, no matter what people think of you.

In other words:

“Was I really seeking good Or just seeking attention?”

Intentions don’t matter, actions do. The second verse of this song dwells on this question, asking if Elphaba’s morals were what she thought they were and what that means for her.

The conclusion drawn is that it doesn’t matter. Elphaba, despite breaking free physically from her society’s constraints, is still following them emotionally. She still believes in the ideas of good and evil that she has been presented with, and now she resolves to take a different approach. If wicked is what they call her, wicked she shall be.

The music of the song itself feels like a fight. It feels like it has the eb and flow of a boxing match, with Elphaba’s vocals falling to match her being struck, and rising for her blows.

For example, here the higher note on “charity” combines with an accent to feel like an attack, with the slope matching the follow up and ease of tension.

Although, if you are perceptive, you will notice that this is a solo, and that Elphaba isn’t actually fighting anyone, so what gives?

I have two readings for this. In the first, Elphaba is declaring war on Oz, essentially, so the fight is the warmup to that. This is posturing, it's a threat. It’s Elphaba’s Bitter Work moment.

For context, Bitter Work is one of the best episodes of Avatar: The Last Airbender and, fun fact, my introduction to the series (I was very young, I thought the movie was cool, I got three seconds into the series and realised how wrong I was). In the episode in question, Zuko is wrestling with his identity in relation to the world, and to his father. He doesn’t know who to be, or how to proceed.

The episode then follows Zuko as he tries and fails to learn a new type of bending (magic in everything but name), culminating with him standing on a cliff, screaming for lightning to strike him because he thinks he can finally throw it back. Its self-destructive, and it's a character on the very edge, lashing out at everyone, including himself, in a desperate attempt for control.

Does that sound familiar? That’s exactly where Elphaba is when she sings No Good Deed, on the edge, looking for control.

The second reading is that Elphaba is arguing with herself about what to do. Part of her wants to run and hide, but the part that is singing is trying to convince her to stay. That she needs to change.

Wicked is a story about dreams and reality colliding, and this is Elphaba’s speech to the troops on the side of hope. Unfortunately for her, the entire army consists of one person, herself.

The idea of Elphaba’s internal struggle is reflected in the inconsistency of the music. Wicked likes to mess around with key signatures and time signatures, with Thank Goodness taking the concept to its breaking point. But No Good Deed has, by my count, four different key signatures, and three different time signatures.

The first chorus follows the Wicked formula of being understated. It’s rhythmical, and balanced in 4/4 time to give it a self contained vibe.

This conveys a feeling of speeding up and slowing down, as she rushes into decisions, then hesitates. Wicked has done this in previous songs already, and I have discussed them, but its a neat thing to see repeated here.

Elphaba seemingly makes her decision, however, belting out the song’s name. But then she falters, and the key changes to b majour. To me, this evokes a feeling of happiness, which doesn’t really square with the lyrics.

Except, I would argue that it does. Nessa and Doctor Dillamond are the two people she was closest to, and they are gone now. They were to hallmarks of her old life, and this feels like her reminiscing about a better time. The other name that comes up here is Fiyero, but that quickly shifts.

Jessica Vosk plays this scene like Elphaba is seeing ghosts, speaking the names as if she is seeking advice from the departed. It's a really cool acting choice.

Grief is a powerful motivator, and Fiyero was the last person that Elphaba had left over from her previous life. Even Glinda has left her, and now that grief bubbles over into a war cry.

In the version of Wicked that I saw most recently, Elphaba was played by Sheridan Adams, who put a little bit of flair into that final call, rising slightly, then flowing down to keep the momentum into the chorus. I don't know what this is called, so if any music scholars who understand my extremely limited and vague explanations here, please help me out.

“Let all Oz be agreed, I’m wicked through and through. Since I cannot succeed. Fiyero, saving you. I promise no good deed Will I attempt to do again. Ever again. No good deed Will I do Again!”

The final chorus of this song is a revelation. It gains momentum by alternating between 4/4 and 3/4 to gain that rocking rhythm like a ship in a storm. But I want to go a bit weird here and talk about the rhyming scheme.

There are two main rhyming sets here, “deed” and “do”, and they alternate in an ABAB pattern and are reminiscent of classical poetry.

Agreed, through, succeed, you, deed, do. Again, Again. Deed, do, again.

Annapantsu's cover of this song is phenomenal and manages to capture the magnitude of both the story and the musical really well. I highly recommend you check it out.

Classics were often about big emotions. Romanticism springs to mind, for example, although that was a movement defined by a desire for freedom of expression, which plays into the themes of Wicked exactly. How convenient.

However, the scheme is broken up by the repeated word “again”, which juxtaposes the idea of classicism with change. The force with which Elphaba interrupts her own rhythm makes the line seem as though it is a threat. Elphaba’s desire for freedom is coming for Oz, whether anyone likes it or not.

Elphaba has snapped, and things will never be the same in oz again. Never again.

Final Thoughts

This song is iconic, and that is well deserved. We are ramping up to the finale of the musical, and the story is gathering speed.

As a side note, I genuinely love how Wicked subverts the prequel pitfall of explaining everything, not by avoiding doing that, but by making that its whole thing. Boq’s transformation into the Tin Man works with the story as told in The Wonderful Wizard of Oz because it comes close to what the Tin Man explains, but frames him as an unreliable narrator.

Similarly, Fiyero’s lack of anything going on behind his eyes is superficial, and when he becomes the Scarecrow, that superficiality carries over. Like Boq, he is reframed as an unreliable narrator, but not through selfishness, and instead through a secret desire to help the Wicked Witch out. Also, the fact that he is the captain of the guard kinda explains why he rocks up to the final battle of the The Wizard Of Oz movie with a gun.

Next week, I am looking at For Good, and trying to justify why I cannot make it through listening to it without crying. Seriously, I am always a wreck at the end of the Wicked soundtrack, and I blame this song.

So stick around if that interests you.

Previous - Next