#but also nothing bad you do will be enough to condemn you

[litany-writes]

 incarnation: the act of being made flesh

[sengokubasara3]

there's another post i want to make, eventually, about what i feel is the most overarching theme in slayers -- and it's such a simple yet broad theme that it feels difficult to explain or articulate anything about, but... there's such an emphasis on being alive, and continuing to live no matter what. the mazoku, by nature, exist in direct opposition to this mentality (though it's not so clear cut as that), making them perfectly suited to be the ideological opponents of lina and co

[etz-ashashiyot]

I know I'm gonna regret posting this, but I just can't not say something: I'm so sick of people who are actively contributing to the ongoing oppression of and violence against Palestinians calling themselves "pro-Palestinian."

In the same way that so many people in the anti-abortion movement are actually pro forced birth rather than pro-child, there are a lot of you who aren't pro-Palestinian, you're just violently antisemitic or in it for yourselves.

If you aren't:

Also angry with the other countries that abuse their Palestinian populations, refuse them citizenship, keep them in displaced person camps under horrific conditions, and/or close their borders entirely to them;

In support of genuine grassroots movements that aim to create some kind of stability, peace, and safety through diplomatic relationships and community building, because that's ""normalization"";

Willing to condemn antisemitism in the diaspora, which helps fuels right-wing rhetoric in Israel;

Willing to shut down lies, propaganda, and disinformation even if it "supports" Palestinians in theory, because lying repeatedly associates the Palestinian movement with lying and makes it harder for survivors to tell their actual stories and be believed outside of the far left movements (and also the truth is bad enough - there's no need to lie);

Willing to focus on practical problem solving over political posturing, especially when it will save Palestinian lives;

Willing to condemn Hamas, which started this most recent disaster, steals aid meant for civilians, uses civilians as human shields, and has been torturing dissenters for years;

Willing to work with Israeli leftists who hate their current government and want peace and full equality for Arab Israelis and their Palestinian neighbors, and also have the best shot at making that change happen; and/or,

Willing to learn about Palestinians as living human beings and value their lives over using them as a political cudgel, whatever that looks like on the ground;

.............then maybe you're more interested in looking radical and jerking off to some fantastical version of The Revolution, and/or hurting Jews than you are in promoting peace, safety, dignity, and self-determination for Palestinians.

Like seriously with "friends" like these, do they even need enemies??

Anyway you should call out the Israeli government for its very real abuses of Palestinians and nothing in this post should be construed otherwise. But if you genuinely care and aren't just in it for internet cool points or leftist cred or feeding your Jew-hate boner or whatever, you gotta prioritize solutions that have a realistic shot at short-term relief and long-term possibility over whatever fits some idealistic goal that will only ever end with more dead Palestinians.

[messrmoonyy]

- Give me my sin again

Arthur Morgan x Female reader

Request- " if Arthur has a secret lover that he tells no one about and he goes to see her when he can after jobs maybe.shes so kind and devout and good that he thinks he doesn't deserve her. But he be besotted with her obsessed to worship the ground she walks on. Arthur not believing in anything but finding this good woman and wanting to be good for her but maybe knowing he can't

A/N- this is mostly a kind of dive into Arthur's head I like it idk. I also paired this with a request I had about bathing Arthur. It kinda fits. Anyway this is a lil shorter than I normally write but life had been lifing lately Imao. And this got me back into writing something for the first time in a lil bit so! Do enjoy.

Warnings- 18+ | some religious imagery, a small chunk of smut right near the end (oral, R receiving) { wc- 3.4k}

Masterlist | AO3

Arthur was not a good man . He feared he never had been. Not really. No matter how many people could try convince him otherwise. He wasn’t. He was bad. He did bad things. A good man didn’t murder, rob, manipulate.

He was no saint. So incredibly far from it.

And yet with you? Well… he felt he could be.

You with your delicate hands that soothed his bruised and battered skin, your voice like that of an angel on his shoulder that spoke to him with an airy tenderness that he did not deserve.

He was not a holy man. And yet for you he would renounce all sin and drop to his knees to beg for forgiveness and retribution. The only deity worth worshipping in his eyes. His slice of heaven always waiting to chase the darkness from his mind. If just for a few hours.

He was drawn to you like there was something mystical in your words, hypnotising him, controlling him, luring him in with nothing but a smile. He would find himself stumbling his way to your door, just to drop down at your feet and beg. Beg for you to erase his sins and show him grace, Allow him the privilege of being in your presence for a while. Because in that awful, terrible world he’d found himself in… nothing felt right but you.

And so there he was again. At your door. Standing there in the rain as he waited for you to answer. His knuckles bruised on the wood in the night, praying you’d be awake, two rabbits slung over his shoulder. As if they could be excuse enough to spend more time with you.

That he had brought you supplies. And that of course he wouldn’t mind skinning them for you. No it really wasn’t a bother.

Though deep down he knew he didn’t need an excuse. That you would always welcome him in with open arms and at times had even begged him not to leave again. But he always felt like he needed the excuse… maybe more to convince himself of something rather than you.

He knocked again. Hoping, praying you were still awake.

And you were. As if you’d been waiting. Maybe you had. But probably not. It has been weeks. 3. 4? He wasn’t sure. But weeks . Weeks that had felt like some kind of condemnation for his sins, being punished by having to stay away. Dutch in one ear, Strauss in the other. A gaggle of others behind him.

Like some guard dog sent out to attack. Kill. Rob. Threaten. And he was tired. Exhausted. He’d no chance to slip away, no chance to sneak his way to your cabin.

But he was there now.

And so were you.

“ Arthur” you looked ethereal. Stood there in the doorway, backlit by the lamp in the room behind you. You didn’t sound surprised to see him. More relieved than anything.

He knew he worried you. Knew you must be sick with it when he went away for weeks on end, no sign he was alive other than another article on the front of the paper about Dutch and the gang robbing something or other.

He walked in as you stepped aside, standing in the warmth of your small home. He’d arranged it for you some time back. Some place to keep you safe.

“ I missed you “ you said, your arms wrapping around his rain soaked torso. Your head resting against his chest, breathing out like you had just received your first gasp of air after being held underwater for too long.

“ I missed you too “ he murmured, his free arm wrapping around you. Strong. Secure. Steady. You were grounding, dragging him out of a haze he had been stuck in to coax him back to reality “ brought you these “ he said, his voice low. Gruff even. He felt like he couldn’t raise his voice in there. That if he did the illusion would shatter and he’d wake up in his tent. All of it some cruel dream to taunt him.

“ thank you “ you said, your voice soft “ I’ll skin them later “ that made Arthur smile, a chuckle escaping his lips. The first in 4 weeks.

“ darlin’ I’ve seen the way you skin game. I ain’t lettin’ you anywhere near ‘em you’ll butcher the damn things “ his voice was gentle with his teasing, but it was true. He’d once left you to it, letting you skin the game he’d brought you. Only to return to what looked like a massacre had taken place on your kitchen table “ I’ll do it “

You laughed a little yourself and nodded

“ yeah I… I ain’t the best huh “ he dropped the rabbits on the table and then turned back to you, he needed to be close to you again.

“ I really did miss ya “ he murmured, reaching out to tuck his fingers under your chin so you’d look up at him “ sorry I ain’t been around much “

He looked down at you, just looking. Admiring. You were so beautiful . So unbelievably gorgeous that it made his heart ache. So beautiful that even death would hesitate to pluck you up into his waiting arms. Because to remove you from the earth would be too vicious even for him, to devoid the planet of such beauty would be low even by his standards.

“ where y’been? “ you asked softly, leaning into his touch “ doin’ bad things again? “

“ real bad things sweetheart “ he murmured.

You never really asked him for more details. Never went delving into what dark and desperate things he found himself doing for Dutch. You'd push from time to time. But never asked anything too damning. You knew he was bad. Never asked him to confess his sins to you, you just let them lie. Let him forget them for a while whilst he was with you.

“ that mess in Valentine… was that you? “ she asked “ read about it in the papers. Claiming it was Van Der Linde boys. And I figured… that usually means you “ Arthur sighed, tucking some of your hair behind your ear as you looked up at him.

He didn’t deserve the way you gazed at him. The way you admired him. The way you peeled back each layer of terribleness to see the good hidden deep underneath.

“ yeah “ he didn’t attempt to lie. What was the need? You knew anyway “ Strauss took a bullet. Old bastards still breathin’ though unfortunately “ he murmured and stepped away from you. He felt tetchy. Needed to busy his hands.

You seemed to gather the point. That that was enough for now. That you didn’t need to know the who’s, the when’s, they why’s. He’d told you the vague outline. Skimmed the tale. And that was enough.

“ well… you gonna sort them rabbits f’me? I’ll cook you up somethin’ nice “ Arthur gave a small smile at your willingness to let his vague stories stay exactly that. To know he did bad things, but not wishing to know exactly what those things were.

And so you both fell into an almost domestic scene. The comfortable quiet that could settle around two people doing their own thing, two people just happy to be in each others company. Two people comfortable together.

He skinned the game as you pottered about doing something or other in the kitchen around him. It felt nice. A scene he could almost see himself having permanently.

Maybe somewhere back out west. Some little cabin or ranch, just you and him. And some sheep or chickens or… something. That damn rancher life Dutch had been harping on about for so long… but just you two.

A ring on your finger. A family. Domesticity that he never truly realised he’d craved.

But that was all some hopeless dream wasn’t it.

So he’d savour those moments for now. The quiet bliss. The escape from everything back at camp. His quiet comfortable time with you.

He finished the game, washing off his hands and placed himself behind you, arms around your waist and a gentle kiss to your cheek.

Those moments were his. His true escape and joy. When he could feel vulnerable. Affectionate.

You were the only true receiver of his affections. You brought it out of him. A constant deep desire within him to want to hold you. Kiss you. Love you. Something he usually tried to keep buried.

It was a tender scene. His chin propped on your shoulder, his arms around you. You often joked that it baffled you how this man that was so tender with you, so caring. So… soft. Was wanted dead or alive in multiple states.

His true moments of retribution came when he was with you like that. When he could hold you and be gentle. Pour out all his emotions and feelings via his actions.

Including the times when he was able to press you into your mattress. Your bed, his saving grace, his chance to truly worship every inch of you. And worship he did. Hands determined and insistent on your soft skin, mapping out your curves and edges to commit them to memory. Lips burning as they trailed your body to commit each inch to his brain.

The way your hands gripped at him, your fingernails piercing his skin and keeping him grounded. Reminding him it was all real he was sane. And the sounds you made more beautiful than any angel, whispering his name in his ear.

He always made sure to worship every part of you. Kissing in the most uncommon of places. His lips brushing your hip bone. The inside of your wrist. Each and every divet of your spine. Making sure you knew he cared. That he appreciated every second he had of you. That you weren’t some hurried little triste that he kept hidden away until he felt an itch needed to be scratched. That this side of things wasn’t a necessity. But simply just a way to prove his points.

He made sure you knew you were his everything. The one thing keeping him holding on to his morality, his one tether to the right side of things.

Afterwards he would lay there with you. Your body’s intwined and your fingers stroking through his hair. And he’d wonder when he’d get to see you again. When he’d be able to return to your arms. Missing you before he’d even left

And he desired it now.

It wasn’t even an inherently lust fuelled desire. But a desire to simply be close. To hold. To touch. To feel. To be touched in a way of care and to touch in a way that showed love not violence. To prove he could touch with love. That not everything he did needed to be violent.

So he turned you gently, cupping your face in his hands. And kissed you. Firm. But not rushed. Purposeful. His hands pulling gently at your hips to hold you flush against him. Some silent request for more.

But you held your hands firmly to his chest as he kissed you, like you could read his mind.

“ ain’t lettin’ you into my bed like this “ you said with a slight sternness to your tone that made him smile “ you look like you went swimmin’ in the swamps “ he chuckled at your words and nodded.

“ and I thought you enjoyed a rugged man “ he teased, his voice low and thick. He always spoke like he needed to be quiet with you. Like inside those four walls of your cabin if he spoke any louder he’d shatter the facade and you’d vanish.

“ rugged. Not filthy “ you teased with a smile and pressed a kiss to his cheek “ I’ll draw you a bath “

He watched you slip from his grasp, disappearing to arrange it. Simply because you wanted to. You didn’t have to. You weren’t the type to be some slave of a wife to a man that demanded everything of you. And he was not the type to be that kind of husband.

You simply just cared. Had too much care and kindness in your heart.

When it was ready you called him through. The whole thing still as quiet and calm as it had been since he’d stepped through your door.

The contrast always shocked him.

“ c’mon. Whilst it’s hot sugar “ you said softly, grabbing gently at his jacket from behind to help him shed it.

Being naked in front of you wasn’t always some lust filled moment. It was… natural. Intimate in ways different from those fuelled by sex. Vulnerable. Completely bare and unarmed. A way no one but you got to see him. A way he was certain he could never really trust anyone as much as you.

“need some time alone or ya want a hand? “ you asked softly, perching on the side of the tub. It was a little small. Or maybe he was a little big. Probably both.

He didn’t need your help not at all. But he’d take every single second he could have with you. Each tick of the clock was precious.

“ like my own personal bath girl ain’t ya darlin? “ he said with a smirk which made you smile, but roll your eyes.

“ I don’t think I’m as complimentary “ you said softly, dipping a cloth into the water to wash away the dirt and dust that came from sleeping outdoors and riding on horseback all day “ god the state of ya Arthur “ you sighed, gently washing over bruises and cuts.

You were used to that though. Arthur’s body had been littered in scars and bruises as long as he could remember.

“ ain’t nothin serious “ he said and it just made you sigh.

Your touch was so gentle against his battered skin. As if washing away all the bad he’d done in the 4 weeks between seeing you. As if he would step out of that tub and out of your door a new man, that he’d be restored to new from your gentleness alone. He could pretend at least.

“ need t’eat more “ you murmured softly, your fingers trailing down his side “ gettin’ skinny “ it felt nice to hear concern. For someone to worry about him. For someone to notice “ I do worry bout ya Arthur “ you said quietly as if reading his mind “ more so lately “

He sighed and nodded

“ I know my darlin’. I know “

“ ain’t never been this bad “

“ I know ” he glanced up at you as you ran soap suds through his hair, your fingers soft and gentle on the knots.

“ cant help feelin’ like… like one day you just ain’t gonna come back here “ he closed his eyes for a moment and nodded. He knew that this was how it was. That he worried you. That he caused you so much stress and anxiety “ I knew the deal when we first met but… Arthur what the hell happened back in Blackwater? “

His jaw involuntarily tensed at the mention of Blackwater. Because Arthur didn’t really know what had happened. He’d heard different accounts. Dutch said one thing. John another. The papers something else.

All he did know, was deep down even without the evidence to prove the fact, it had something to do with Micah. Micah and his impulsive tendencies

“ darlin’ “ he sighed again “ I ain’t even sure. I weren’t there you know I weren’t “ he hung his head a little and closed his eyes for a moment “ whatever it was it was bad. And Dutch… he’s got all these plans. Ranching or god damn mangoes in Tahiti I don’t know look- “ he reached out and grabbed your hand, squeezing it softly “ whatever that mess was, I gotta help them pick up the pieces. Y’know I do “

“ yeah. I know “ you said quietly

“ but once they got enough money, they can go off and have their South Pacific dreams… and I’ll be free to go where I like. Right back here. T’you “ he didn’t quite believe it himself. And it felt cruel to say it when he truly thought about it. But some part of him felt that if he spoke it out loud, maybe it could happen.

But then again. Maybe not.

You didn’t seem convinced. Not at all. That look in your eyes that seemed filled with sadness and longing. Longing for a life he couldn’t give you. Not yet.

“ sounds like a real nice dream “ you said quietly, standing up to grab him a towel to dry off

“ it is darlin. It is. And you keep dreamin’ it cause I will make it happen. I swear it to ya I will “ he wrapped the towel around him and stepped out of the tub, placing his hands on your shoulders “ I will darlin “

You gave him a gentle smile and reached up to brush the backs of your fingers across his cheek, nodding softly

“ I’ll keep dreamin “

As was the usual he ended up in your bed again, desperate to prove his point and show you his true devotion. Purging his sins with his head between your thighs.

His fingers softly traced along your folds, spreading them gently. He groaned as he felt you quiver and twitch under his touch, the feeling and sound making him more and more insatiable. More desperate to please. His thumb ran up and pressed against your clit, rubbing firmly, almost possessively like he was trying to mark the territory as his. Watching your reactions as you squirmed below him, heavenly sounds escaping your mouth.

“ so good Arthur “

Your mewling and whining was like music to his ears, he could listen to it all day. Hearing you moan out your praises only made his tongue move faster, his efforts to bring you to climax increasing. His hands gripping your thighs, using his free hand to push your hips down gently.

It was never about him in those moments. Didn’t care for getting any kind of release himself. He just cared about you. As if doing something so selfless would free him of his vengeful, selfish ways from the last few weeks.

He circled your clit, giving you the attention you needed and wanted from him, making up for his absence with every swipe of his tongue, listening to the pretty moans you made. His tongue swiped across you again and again, licking a strip over your sensitive skin just wanting to touch you everywhere.

Your soft moans and writhing movements were enough to drive him crazy, his hands gripping tightly at your thighs.

“ m’so… Arthur I- “ you spoke brokenly, your hand patting around softly before grabbing onto his “ Arthur “ your soft whimper of his name made him groan hungrily, his fingers instantly lacing with yours

“ right here darlin. Ain’t goin no where “

He hummed softly against you, feeling your muscles tighten under his tongue. He pressed his tongue flat against you, giving a long, slow lick. He was addicted to the taste, he just wanted more of you. Like he couldn’t get enough. Couldn’t get close enough. He groaned softly again, the vibrations of the sound clearly doing you wonders.

He could feel your walls beginning to clench around his tongue as he thrust it inside of you,your hand squeezing down on his and you softly mewled his name over and over . And a few more flicks of his tongue was enough, your back arching from your bed with a high pitched whine. Your thighs clamping around his head making him moan against you, not stopping in his ministrations. Fervently licking and lapping until you went slack, gently pushing at his head.

“ oh Jesus “ you whispered with a soft, breathy laugh “ I don’t know how you’re so good at that “ he smirked softly and crawled back over your body, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

“ you give me enough practice “ he murmured with a smile, tilting your head so that he could kiss you.

“ did you really mean what you said earlier?” You asked quietly as he pulled back, your fingers brushing his hair back from his forehead “ that dream. We’ll really have that some day? “

He looked down at you. So hopeful. So desperate to love and to be loved. By him. He wanted to give you the world. To hand you anything and everything you wanted and needed on a silver platter before you could even ask for it.

Deep down he wished he could. A small, tiny part of him hoping that one day he really could fulfil that desire. Be… normal. A rancher or a farm hand. You, his wife. A kid.

But a louder, stronger part of him told him he couldn’t. That he’d never really escape. That something would always be in the way. Something would always stop him.

But looking down at you, that loving hopeful look. He couldn’t tell you that.

“ yeah. Yeah darlin’ we will “

[equallyreal]

Transmission Received: The Call Is Coming From Inside The House And I'm Mad About It

Or, a response to National Novel Writing Month's stance on Artificial Intelligence.

But before we get into that, a quick story update: I actually haven't been working on much of anything lately due to some IRL issues going on (nothing too serious, don't worry, I am still alive and healthy). The Edge is going to be on a soft break until I get my energy levels back up to serious writing levels, but I will continue to make update posts to keep people in the loop about how well I'm recharging.

Unfortunately for the people behind National Novel Writing Month, while my energy levels might be low, my spite levels are always at an all-time high, and they are fully fueling me to take down their official position on AI. But first, a timeline.

I wake up to a message in a group discord I'm in with a screenshot of National Novel Writing Month making some...interesting comments about their position on AI.

While going to tumblr to see if anyone else is talking about this, I find this post my @the-pen-pot featuring the screenshot I saw. In the responses, I see @darkjediqueen saying that the article had been updated @besodemieterd giving some information that I'm going to keep secret for now because it creates a truly amazing punchline.

I get off tumblr and read the updated article.

I feel a deep rage in my soul that cannot be tamed by group chat participation, and I click the "write a post" button.

So, with that out of the way, let's break this down, shall we?

The original post, as seen in the screenshot of the above post, contained the following two paragraphs:

NaNoWriMo does not explicitly support any specific approach to writing, nor does it explicitly condemn any approach, including the use of AI. NaNoWriMo's mission is to "provide the structure, community, and encouragement to help people use their voices, achieve creative goals, and build new worlds—on and off the page." We fulfill our mission by supporting the humans doing the writing. Please see this related post that speaks to our overall position on nondiscrimination with respect to approaches to creativity, writer's resources, and personal choice.  We also want to be clear in our belief that the categorical condemnation of Artificial Intelligence has classist and abelist undertones, and that questions around the use of AI tie to questions around privilege.

This was all I saw when I first heard about this, and this on its own was enough to tap into my spite as an energy source. The second paragraph, in particular, was infuriating. "People who argue against AI are classist or abelist" is a terrible take I've seen floating around AI Bro Twitter, and to see it regurgitated by an organization that is supposed to be all about writing was, to put it simply, a lot.

But, as noted in the timeline, I did see that they had updated the article (about two hours ago as of me working on writing this), so I went to the updated post to see what was said. Somehow, it had gotten worse. I'll be addressing the updated post on a point by point basis, so if you want to read the whole thing without my commentary, here you go.

The first paragraph is the same was it was in the screenshot. The first major different is an added paragraph that begins like this:

Note: we have edited this post by adding this paragraph to reflect our acknowledgment that there are bad actors in the AI space who are doing harm to writers and who are acting unethically. We want to make clear that, though we find the categorical condemnation for AI to be problematic for the reasons stated below, we are troubled by situational abuse of AI, and that certain situational abuses clearly conflict with our values.

First off, I find it a big troubling that while they discuss bad actors in the AI space, they won't acknowledge that these same bad actors are often the ones pushing the whole "being anti-AI makes you morally bad, actually" accusations with the most fervor.

Second, why are you not more strongly discussing and pushing back against the "situational" abuse of AI? Why is the focus on how using AI can be good, actually, rather than acknowledging the fears and angers of your userbase around how generative AI is ruining an art form that you claim to want to help foster? I have a theory about this, but we're saving that for a bit further down.

The paragraph concludes:

We also want to make clear that AI is a large umbrella technology and that the size and complexity of that category (which includes both non-generative and generative AI, among other uses) contributes to our belief that it is simply too big to categorically endorse or not endorse. 

The funny thing is, in a vacuum, I don't have a problem with this statement. They're not wrong: AI is an umbrella term with a lot of complexity to it, and I can see how people would be hesitant to condemn the technology as a whole when there are uses of it that aren't awful. If their whole statement had been this, I would have less of a problem with it (still some of a problem, sure, but I wouldn't be writing a lengthy blog post about it) But they had to delve into how Being Against AI is Morally Bad, Actually, which is where the post continues from here.

The last big change between the screenshot and the updated article is in this paragraph:

We believe that to categorically condemn AI would be to ignore classist and ableist issues surrounding the use of the technology, and that questions around the use of AI tie to questions around privilege. 

This is much less strongly-worded than the original paragraph. If I had to guess, they got a lot of criticism regarding the original sentiment (namely, assuming that disabled and poor people can only make art if a machine does it for them is actually way more abelist and classist than saying generative AI is bad), and dialed it back through this rewording. They could've just worded it this way from the beginning instead of saying the dumbest possible thing they could've, but whatever.

I don't know if the rest of this was in the article from the beginning or if it was added later, as the original screenshot I saw only showed the first two paragraphs. Regardless of whether this is them trying to cover their asses by explaining logic they should've explained from the start or if this was always here, I still have major issues with these points, so we're going to address them next.

(As a quick full disclosure note: I had to transcribe the rest of the article instead of copy-pasting it because I lost the ability to do so at about this point in the blog writing process. I don't know what happened or why, I just wanted to let you know that almost all typos are my fault, but beyond that I recorded the text as-written at the time that I had the article up in another tab. I promise.)

Classism. Not all writers have the financial ability to hire humans to help at certain phases of their writing. For some writers, the decision to use AI is a practical, not an ideological, one. The financial ability to engage a human for feedback and review assumes a level of privilege that not all community members possess.

You may note that they are discussing the use of AI at what seems to be the editing process. As someone in my group chat pointed out, National Novel Writing Month has nothing to do with editing, and everything to do with writing. The only way you can currently use AI for the act of writing is if you use generative AI to do it for you, which is, I think we can all agree, not actually writing and actually bad. This emphasis on editing ties into the punchline, which we'll be getting to shortly.

On a final note before we proceed though, I would like to carry over an argument about this matter that is used in the small business/handcrafts sector: If you can't afford it now, save up for it. Don't devalue the work of other people (in this case, editors and things like sensitivity readers or beta readers) by saying it's too expensive and I can get it cheaper on Shein by using AI. Save up and support your fellow workers if it really means something to you, or just do the editing yourself and hope for the best. (Disclosure: I don't have an editor. Or a beta reader. I can't say my writing is the most polished all the time, but I get by just fine.)

Abelism. Not all brains have the same abilities and not all writers function at the same level of education or proficiency in the language in which they are writing. Some brains and ability levels require outside help or accommodations to achieve certain goals. The notion that all writers "should" be able to perform certain functions independently or [sic] is a position that we disagree with wholeheartedly. There is a wealth of reasons why individuals can't "see" the issues in their writing without help.

First of all...just say "disabled." I promise your hands will not fall off if you type that word.

Second, level of education should really fall under the class bullet point, but that's just me nitpicking.

Third, I would argue that the real goal here shouldn't be to say "no using AI is finem actually", but rather to a) dismantle the idea of what writing "should" look like in order to make it more inclusive, and b) fight back against people who bully imperfect writers. Those are actually more noble goals than propping up a corrupt industry by using the disabled as your scapegoat.

Fourth, the dangling "or" is not a typo I take credit for. It was in the article as of me transcribing it. If I had to guess, there was more to this sentence at some point, and they just didn't fully delete the thought.

Fifth, funny how this is once again more about the editing process of writing and not the writing part. Even more funny when we view the final point.

General Access Issues. All of these considerations exist within a larger system in which writers don't always have equal access to resources along the chain. For example, underrepresented minorities are less likely to be offered traditional publishing contracts, which places some, by default, into the indie author space, which inequitably creates upfront cost burdens that authors who do not suffer from systemic discrimination may have to incur.

This one really pissed me off, because the indie author sphere is actively under attack by the use of AI. AI-created scam books on Amazon's kindle publishing platform are increasing and actively stealing attention and money away from human authors (see this article). Sci-Fi magazine Clarkesworld had to shut down new author submissions due to the influx of AI generated stories, and while the head of Bards and Sages cited physical and mental health problems as a reason for shutting down the company entirely, having to weed through AI generated submissions and the way such bad actors are impacting the industry were listed as the final straw. There are probably even more examples of this, but I only did a cursory google search to avoid being here all day.

Simply put: AI is not helping authors who have to go to the indie space in order to escape systemic problems. It is actively killing the space instead. I don't want to sound doom and gloom, but if this keeps up, these authors aren't going to have anywhere to run to. A refusal to condemn the ways in which AI is impacting these spaces does, in my opinion, make you complicit.

On a final note, you might notice that this point is seemingly once again focusing on editing, not writing. Which means it's time to unveil the punchline pointed out by besodemieterd, the response that made me lose my mind:

They made this bullshit up to justify them getting into cahoots with an AI company called ProWritingAid, it's all over their instagram.

I immediately ran to factcheck this...and it's true. ProWritingAid is, in fact, a more in-depth Grammarly that uses AI for its functionality. They are a sponsor for National Novel Writing Month, and the first three posts on their instagram are dedicated to this partnership.

I completely back up besodemieterd's belief that they wrote this article to justify their taking this sponsorship. If I had to guess, they started taking a lot of flack for taking ProWritingAid as a sponsor and wrote this article in order to defend their decision to do so without actually saying so directly.

I don't want to shame NaNoWriMo for taking sponsors on the whole, as they do need money to stay afloat. However, taking an AI company as a sponsor and then defending their stance by essentially calling people with concerns about this morally wrong and bad is, as the kids say, clown behavior. This is clown shit. It's laughable, it's cringe, it's incredibly disheartening. It's so, so bad.

The next paragraph is just about how they "see value in sharing resources about AI and any emerging technology, issue, or discussion that is relevant to the writing community as a whole." Since my stance on this can be summed up as "AI bad and platforming it is bad", I'm going to skip over this paragraph. I will, however, address their last paragraph:

For all of those reasons, we absolutely do not condemn AI, and we recognize and respect writers who believe that AI tools are right for them. We recognize that some members of our community stand staunchly against AI for themselves, and that's perfectly fine. As individuals, we have the freedom to make our own decisions.

So, basically, you're incapable of saying "no" to money and decided to lean into the talking points of bad faith actors and refuse to address the destruction that generative AI is wrecking on the writing world in order to justify why you took a certain sponsor. In taking this middle of the road, individual choice-ass response, you also threw human editors and beta readers under the bus by justifying the use of technology that actively removes them from the space. You are making the writing world a worse place, which is absolutely crazy when writing is supposed to be the thing you're all about.

Truly amazing. And they're doing this on Labor Day, too.

In conclusion, I will be dead in the dirt before you spot me participating in National Novel Writing Month again. Which is probably for the best. My life can only handle so many self-imposed deadlines. I guess I should be grateful to them for removing one from my plate.

[tojisfavlatina]

‘Me and My Husband’

Wc: 3.9k

Cw: nonconsensual drug use, brief message of SA

An: if you’ve seen this fic before… yeah that was me i accidentally deleted my tumblr acc cuz i didn’t know deleting ONE blog deletes all of them… oops… i also wrote that spider-man gojo fic WHICH I WILL REWRITE AND REUPLOAD

Being engaged to Satoru Gojo was nothing short of perfect. You both completely trusted each other, you were completely in love, you rarely ever argued, and if you did, it was over the simplest of things and you’d both end up laughing at the end of it.

The only problem was his family. They didn’t approve of your ranking as a grade 3 sorcerer and they didn’t like how you chose to spend your time as a sweets maker, instead of trying to become at minimum, a grade 1. You had the potential, they were aware of that, but you just chose not to try and promote your rank. They saw your actions as rebellious and an embarrassment to sorcerers.

When you first started dating Satoru, they all laughed in your face, saying your relationship was nothing more than a fling, but once Satoru announced he had proposed to you, hell broke loose.

They condemned it, they hated it, they even sent you threats, stating if you didn’t break off the engagement, they’d ruin your life.

Satoru always told you to never worry about them. He’d always choose you over his family, and of course, you trusted him.

⋆

“Ugh, do you have to go?” Satoru had gotten a call, another mission he had to oversee, since no one else could be trusted enough to take care of it.

He laughed at your grumbling. “I wish I didn’t, but you know how it is.”

You threw your head back on the couch and let out a deep sigh. “Yeah, I know… I just wish we could spend every day together.”

“Become a grade 1 and then we can go on missions everyday together.” He sat down next to you and placed his hand on your thigh.

You placed your hand on top of his. “Very funny, Satoru.”

You felt your phone buzzing and you quickly glanced at it, but the messages weren’t from anyone in your contacts.

2 New Messages From An Unsaved Number

hey it’s mei-mei

let’s go out tonight. just the two of us.

“It’s… Mei-Mei. Why would she be asking me to hang out?”

“Change of heart? I say give her a chance.”

“I don’t know… this feels random. She’s never liked me, Satoru, why would I believe she all of a sudden is a changed person?

“I think you’re acting way too paranoid.” You gave him a light smack on his forehead. He pouted at you as he rubbed it better. “Come on! It’s been forever since you’ve gone out, hasn’t it? Go have fun!”

You groaned with annoyance knowing he wouldn’t stop persisting. “Okay… only because you’re irritating me.” He gave you a smile and kissed your cheek before standing up.

“I guess I’ll see you later tonight. Have a great time baby.” Satoru gave you one last kiss before leaving.

Once you heard the door close, you flopped down onto the couch. You didn’t like the idea of hanging out with Mei-Mei, especially since it’d be just the two of you. There was a bad feeling growing in your gut, but you pushed it down because you told Satoru you’d have fun. You sent her a confirmation text and you felt your phone buzz a couple minutes later, but you didn’t even bother looking at it.

Slowly, you rose up from the couch and started getting ready. You didn’t bother doing much since you didn’t really care how Mei-Mei perceived you nor did you care about impressing anyone there. You were doing this for Satoru and Satoru only.

She sent you the address to a bar nearly half an hour away, so you decided to call an Uber instead of having her pick you up.

⋆

The bar was extremely busy, the only reason you were able to spot her was because of her bright hair.

You tapped her shoulder and let out a small hi. She let out a small gasp and gave you a smile before giving you a bone-crushing hug. “Go find us a table, I’ll get us drinks!” She left before you could even say anything, so you simply obliged.

You sat at an empty table and let out a shaky breath. You wanted to calm down, you wanted to have a good time, but this still felt strange.

She came back and slammed two glasses on the table, sliding one over to you.

“I wasn’t planning on drinking…”

“Come on~ one drink won’t hurt…”

“…Okay.” You took the shot from her and downed it immediately. It burned your throat, making you wince. There was a slight salty taste, but you ignored it, thinking maybe alcohol just tastes like that now. You rarely ever went out to bars or clubs, since Satoru was a lightweight and couldn’t get past two drinks. Mei-Mei giggled at your reaction and took her shot soon after.

“I’m gonna get us some more~.”

“N-no Mei-Mei, please I had the one drink, I think that’s enough.”

“What? You don’t want to have some more fun with your friend?”

“I… I’m gonna find the bathroom.” You quickly left your seat and walked forward, not even knowing if you were headed the right way. You eventually found the line for it and waited.

Once it was your turn, you felt yourself get lightheaded, must’ve been one hell of a shot Mei-Mei gave you.

You finished using the restroom and tried finding Mei-Mei, but couldn’t spot her. Every step you took had you stumbling, you couldn’t even stand up straight. You’ve only had one drink… Why was it affecting you this much?

You spotted white hair in the middle of a group of people, and you let out a sigh of relief. You hoped Mei-Mei could take you home since you felt so strange.

You pushed through the crowd to reach her, but once you did, it wasn’t her you saw.

“S-Satoru? Why are you h-here? … at work…” The words that could leave your mouth came out slurred and mumbled. The music started sounding extremely muffled, every blink you took made your vision blurrier. Satoru kept fading in and out, eventually, someone grabbed your arm and pulled you outside.

Your eyes shut. Once they opened again, you were inside a house, but you couldn’t tell who it belonged to.

Everything felt foggy, you felt nauseous. You wanted to stand, you tried to.

But you must’ve fallen, since the next time you had opened your eyes, you were blinded by the sun’s rays.

The first thing you felt was pain. Your head was throbbing and the light wasn’t making it any better. You rubbed your temples for any sort of relief, but to no avail.

You slowly opened your eyes, hoping they’d adjust to the light. Blink by blink, the light wasn’t so harsh anymore and you could fully open them. You looked around and didn’t recognize where you were.

Satoru. I need to call him. You looked around for your phone, but as you looked down, you weren’t in the clothes you put on last night. Instead, you wore an oversized shirt and sweats, clearly belonging to a man. A sick feeling grew in your stomach. There’s no way in hell…

“Mornin’.” A deep voice caused a shiver to run down your spine. Every worst case scenario went through your mind.

“W-who are you? Where am I?” He handed you two pills, but you refused to take them, you didn’t even know who he was.

The man only rolled his eyes at you before dropping the pills onto the coffee table. “They’re painkillers. Take ‘em’ or don’t, I don’t care.”

“How did I get here… did we…did you…” Sleeping in the house of a stranger scared you enough, but the possibility of him also taking advantage of you, made your heart almost stop.

“No. We didn’t have sex, I didn’t even touch you. The most we ‘did’ was me liftin’ your body off the floor.”

“Did you see the girl I was with? She has white hair-

“Yeah, she left. She came with us last night, but she was gone before I even woke up. Hell of a friend you got.” He walked to another room and came back out with a bag. “Here’s your shit. You should leave soon.” You only nodded to him before he left you alone again.

At the top of the bag was your phone, which thankfully, had enough battery to last you until you got home. There were 27 missed calls from Satoru alone, and a couple of others from your friends. You’d call them once you got home, right now you just wanted to hear Satoru. You dialed his number, but it immediately went to voicemail.

You didn’t think much of it. His phone was probably dead, you were always the one that plugged it in at night. You’d see him soon, so you simply ordered a ride home

⋆

You unlocked the front door, but it was eerily quiet inside. He was probably still asleep, he always woke up late.

You walked towards your room, the door was slightly cracked open, but you could see a figure inside, “Satoru?” Once you opened it all the way, you saw it was him and let all your things fall to the floor. You missed him so much, you just wanted him to hold you.

He had his blindfold on, which was extremely out of character, he rarely wore it around you anymore. He was sitting on your guy’s bed and stared at the wall ahead of him, not even glancing at you. “You’re back.” His tone was cold and his voice was meak, the complete opposite of what you had expected.

“Yeah… I am.” You approached him for a hug, but he stood up and immediately backed away from you. “Satoru? What’s wrong with you?”

“Yeah, what’s wrong with me… the fuck is wrong with me…” He let out a dry laugh. Everything about him was confusing you. “What exactly did you do last night?”

“I… I don’t remember. I met up with Mei-Mei, I had a drink, then everything after that is… blurry.”

“What were you doing with Toji?”

“Who’s Toji?”

“So you don’t even know the man who you slept with last night. That’s fucking amazing.”

“What are you talking about? I didn’t sleep with anyone!”

He pulled out his phone and walked towards you. Satoru made you hold it as he swiped. On the screen was a picture of you getting pulled out of the bar by a man and you getting into that same man’s car. You recognized the man, you woke up in his house this morning. You started laughing at Satoru. “Is that Toji? Are you two friends? Wait… you both set this up to prank me! Oh~ you really got me.” You continued laughing, but as you looked at his face, he didn’t find this the slightest bit of amusing, making you stop.

He snatched his phone from your hand before inhaling deeply, “and whose clothes are you wearing?”

“I don’t know. I woke up like this.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose and groaned, “and you keep lying to me, even though I already know…”

“Already know what?” Your voice grew louder, angrier. “You don’t… believe me?”

“How am I supposed to!? There’s pictures, the clothes you’re wearing, Mei-Mei called and told me everything that happened.” Hearing her name made you pause…

Mei-Mei…

“You believe Mei-Mei over me? Satoru, you know she’s been oddly obsessed with you since you’ve known her.” You threw an accusing finger at him.

He only glared at your finger, and at you. “I’ve also known her longer than you. She’s given me evidence that you cheated on me, so is believing her really the craziest thing right now?” You were taken aback by his words. He had never doubted you before, but now he was believing Mei-Mei of all people.

“So is that what’s going on? Is this your lame ass way to end things with me, so you can go and have her? Is that why you were so insistent on me going out?” He rolled his eyes and scoffed at you.

“Don’t try turning this on me ‘cuz you can’t own up and admit you’re a whore now.” You lifted your hand to slap him, but your hand never made contact with his skin. His infinity was on. Satoru didn’t even trust you enough to have it off around you anymore.

You scoffed, tears were building in your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. You let out a shaky breath, “okay… I’ll admit to being a whore once you admit you were too pussy to end things with me, so you called your side bitch for help.”

“My family was right, I should’ve never proposed to you.” That was the last straw for you.

“Yeah, they were right.” You started gathering your things, but as you tried walking past him, he grabbed your arm to stop you.

“I already packed my things. You have my number right?” He let go of you and started walking out of the room, “make sure to get rid of it.” He walked further away and you eventually heard the front door slam shut.

Everything that just happened hit you all at once, finally breaking you. At first, you felt so betrayed, so angry. You threw the framed picture of him you kept on your nightstand against the wall, shattering it. Anything that even reminded you of him was broken. Once your rampage was over, you fell to your knees and started wailing, screamed until your voice was gone, you could barely breathe at this point.

You weren’t sure if you even wanted to.

Your entire life, the love of your life, gone.

Just like that.

⋆

A few days passed, you’d wake up hoping it was a nightmare, but the other side of the bed was always empty. He’s in the bathroom… he just woke up before me.

You’d get up to use the bathroom, but of course, it was empty, not even his toothbrush was there.

He was gone, and every time you came to that realization again, you’d break down sobbing.

⋆

A week passed. You knew he wouldn’t be there. You knew he wasn’t coming back. It still hurt, but you had to get use to it.

Word got out to your friends that you’d broken up, and they all sided with him. No one came to check up on you. It sucked, but you grew to understand it.

⋆

Three knocks sounded from the door. They were faint, almost hesitant. At first, you thought you imagined them, but then you heard them again, this time, a lot louder.

You opened the door to see the very man who had caused this depressive episode. Just seeing him made your knees almost buckle. Various emotions coursed through your body; rage, shame, sorrow, but worst of all, love.

You wanted to throw yourself back into his arms, for him to cradle you and say everything’s okay. You needed his warmth against yours and to bring you back the comfort you’ve been yearning for since he left.

But that wasn’t possible. Nothing he could say would fix what he’d done to you. His immediate response being to leave you, told you how much you really meant to him. He was so quick to push you away, like these last couple of years together truly meant nothing to him. It hurt to think about all the empty promises he had given you when he proposed.

How he promised to cherish you forever. How he swore to endlessly love you no matter what. How he’d choose to relive this lifetime over and over again if it meant being with you and only you.

The longer you stared into his eyes, the more you wanted to bawl. All of those happy memories you had with him flooded your mind, nearly drowning you into submission.

A lifetime had passed before you decided to be the one to break the silence. “Why are you here?” Your voice was laced with venom, making him rethink everything he wanted to say to you.

“I… I needed to see you again.” He could barely even look at you. Ironic. He knew he had caused you all of this pain and he wanted so badly to just hold you once more. “Can I come in?”

You exhaled before answering him, this didn’t feel real, you weren’t sure if you wanted it to be. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” His eyes pleaded to be let in, making it hard for you to refuse. You opened the door a little wider and let him walk past you. You closed the door behind him and stayed facing it.

“We need to talk.”

“I don’t think there’s much else to say.”

He tried turning you to face him, but you wouldn’t move. “Please. Just give me 5 minutes and then you can slap me, kick me, scream at me, I don’t care, please just… listen to me for a bit.”

You sighed. “5 minutes.” He let out a breath and thanked you. You ignored him and you both walked over to the living room.

You sat down and waited for him to start. He was nervous, he wouldn’t stop pacing around.

This was getting on your nerves. “Time’s ticking.”

“I found out my family had paid Mei-Mei to set you up. They paid her to drug you, and they paid Toji to take you home. I talked to Toji and he said he wasn’t aware of this plan they had set up. All he was told was to take you and Mei-Mei to his place and that’s what he did.” He said that all within a single breath.

Everything that had happened that night came back to you and what he just told you, explained everything.

It explained why you got drunk so easily, why you ended up in Toji’s car, why you woke up the next day with different clothes on, and why Mei-Mei had that picture of you and Toji together.

To say you were pissed was an understatement.

“You believed everyone else over me, over your own fucking fiancée.”

“Mei-Mei showed me proof! How am I supposed to believe words over that?” He threw his hands into the air out of frustration.

“Because they were my words! When have I ever fucking lied to you, Satoru?!” He was stunned into silence and you took a deep breath before you continued.

“When you proposed to me, I thought that meant we could trust one another, that we understood each other, that we were in love, but I see that I was wrong. You believed the bitch that’s been trying to get at you since high school. You chose the family that you shit talked more times than you’ve told me you loved me. All of them… over me.”

He was at a loss for words. He felt like the biggest idiot alive. Satoru knew he had made the worst mistake possible, believing others before you, and he could see that now.

Before, he was so blinded with anger, he was so hurt by you, he thought he had hated you. He even blamed himself, thinking you had cheated on him because he didn't care about you or didn’t appreciate you enough. He didn’t even stop to consider you were telling the truth.

You tore your eyes away from his body, knowing if you even caught a glance of him, you’d never say what needed to be said. “Maybe… maybe this is for the best. You need someone equally as strong alongside you. Someone who can pick up from where you may fall short, not someone weak, who drags you down alongside them. Maybe your family doing this was the right thing to do. You need to find someone better.”

Every word you spoke tore his heart apart. He hated hearing you belittle yourself, how you thought leaving him is what’s best, and how the both of you knew, you didn’t believe a single word that came out of your mouth.

He grabbed onto your hands and tried getting you to look at him, but you wouldn’t budge. “But there isn’t someone better. I don’t need to find anyone else… I need you. I can’t imagine my life without you, I don’t even know how I managed to live before I met you. You’re the reason I wake up in the morning and the reason I continue living. You make me want to get stronger so that every time I leave, you have that reassurance that I’m coming back home.” You continued looking away from him, causing him to feel helpless since he knew once your mind was set on something, there wasn’t any changing it.

He fell in love with your stubbornness, and now that same stubbornness became his grief. He couldn’t stop the flow of tears that fell from his eyes. Gojo hated showing weakness, he hated showing that he was just a human. He was never treated as such, so why act like one?

It hurt to see him like this. You hated seeing him in pain, but you kept convincing yourself this was the right decision. “Satoru, I’m always going to love you…” You tore your hands away from him and slid your engagement ring off your finger, “so when you eventually find the perfect somebody, the person who truly completes you, just know it was all because of me. Because I had the strength to let you go. I had the strength to let you find true happiness.” The tears that had been threatening to fall finally came crashing down.

You had spent the last few weeks all by yourself, abandoned by your fiancée, so officially breaking things off should’ve been easy. But it was so difficult having to mourn the very person that stood right in front of you.

It’d be so easy running back into his arms and saying everything’s okay. That everything would be fixed and everything would go back to normal.

However, there wasn’t any trust anymore, the very foundation your relationship was built on, was broken. Staying with him would mean living under his constant supervision, since he’d fear being lied to. You’d never be able to enjoy yourself without feeling guilty. It simply wasn’t possible.

You wiped your eyes and sniffled a few times before speaking again. “It’s been 5 minutes, Gojo. You should leave.”

He was on his knees, practically begging now. “Don’t do this. Don’t call me that. Please, we can make it work again, it’ll be okay.”

“I gave you what you wanted, and now it’s time for you to go.” He very hesitantly got up and tried to at least hug you, but you backed away from him. “Funny, you still haven’t even apologized to me.”

He opened his mouth to speak, but you quickly raised your hand to stop him. “Don’t bother. Just leave.”

Gojo wiped his eyes and turned to walk out. He wanted to say something, anything, but his mouth kept failing him. He decided to say nothing, he didn’t want to make it worse. He opened the door to leave but before he could, you grabbed his shoulder

“You have my number right?” He nodded, a spark of hope lit up in his eyes. “Make sure to get rid of it.”

[cripplecharacters]

Hi! So I’m writing a non-verbal autistic toddler. I wanted to ask about large stereotypes I should avoid? Part of my writing him is making him have some of my experiences (such as the “gifted kid”) but also some of the experiences of other autistic individuals such as being put into therapy as children and being raised by parents who were given terrible coping skills or just adults with terrible coping mechanisms for the child )such as restraining them when they have a meltdown). I’m not sure if there’s anything I should be avoiding but I don’t want to make a mistake and end up never writing an autistic or disabled child in general

Hi asker,

I want to start off with a note about stereotypes about autism, specifically. Some people will tell you to avoid 'stereotypical' portrayals of autism, like intellectually disabled autistic people, or ones who can't have jobs, or ones who stand 'weird,' or ones who are very obviously visibly disabled, or ones who need caregivers, or ones with no empathy. What I want to say about this is that there are autistic people who are these things, maybe all of them even. And that's fine. It's one thing to say "don't write every autistic character this way, which is true – the experiences of people with autism are very, very varied, and not a monolith. But it is another to say "Never write an autistic character who [insert common characteristic of autism here]," because that's harmful and disingenuous, and often just done as a way to distance oneself from those more affected by their disability.

Now that I'm off my soapbox, onto your actual question.

One stereotype I would urge you to avoid is "Everyone around them sees their autism as negative and no one supports this kid how they are." Does this happen in real life? Unfortunately, yes. Do we already have enough of this in stories? Also yes. The kid's parents can have bad coping skills. They can put them into various therapies to try and help or maybe even to try and make them more typical, not just to help them gain skills and get support, because that happens. But I would urge you to include at least one or two aspects of their autism that their parents appreciate and support. Maybe they stim with the kid, or maybe they really truly find it endearing how much their kid likes lining things up, or maybe they're really determined to get their kid an AAC device because they're okay with their kid being nonverbal and just want them to be able to communicate in the best way possible.

Another thing I would ask you to consider is: when it comes to referencing terrible coping mechanisms that are actually harmful, like dangerous modes of restraints, it's important that if you are going to be depicting them in the first place, you make sure it's not posed as a good idea – this is the kind of thing that can kill people. When Sia's Music came out, the character gets put in a dangerous restraint and within the movie it's posed as the right thing to do when it is actually potentially deadly. No one in the making of the movie condemned it outside of the movie's canon, either. That's dangerous.

Also, how old is your toddler character? Were they diagnosed recently, or is it more like the character is almost 5 and they were diagnosed at 18 months? Parents will deal with a diagnosis a little differently when they just get it as opposed to when they have had a little more experience with it, and have gotten to know more about why their kid does what they do.

Lastly, something I'd ask you to avoid as well is for the autistic character to be nothing more than a plot device to make others look good (or bad). Now of course I don't know your story, but even if the toddler character is a minor character, they should have a little to do in the story that isn't just be there for others to look like better or worse people. They can have scenes with other characters that help progress the story forward, even if it's just a scene or two. This really depends on your story and plot, though, so you have a lot of leeway.

Hope this helps!

– mod sparrow

[tigertale]

A/N: Not me remembering halfway through the writing that Deuce is really shy around girls uuh And as usual, I got stuck halfway through it because I'm dumb and rushed the smut because I had enough of struggling with it >:(

A/N2: So many words *crying*

• F!Reader; Deuce; Ace

• 〔　！ 〕Smut; Virgin (Deuce); Creampie; Shower Sex; Grammatical errors; Not proofread

17.5k words

Ace was mindlessly grumbling with acknowledgement at each of his current potionology partner's criticism, not caring one bit of the way Deuce was condemning him fooling around with the prefect with a shaky and awkward tone —if he had taken the time to look at him, he would've seen the blush painting his whole face red as he tried to keep up the persona of a model student. It was out of character coming from the red-haired, him, who was already known throughout his dorm, despite the year having just started, for teasing the poor Spade whom he always hung out with for one reason or another.

Across the room, switching her attention over to the teacher quite regularly to see if he ever approached as to warn her own partner who was lazing on their shared desk, the prefect of the Ramshackle dorm was stirring the ingredients of the potion with great care, the color slowly switching from a dark and desaturated blue to a beautiful pastel green. She seemed to be pretty focused as she didn't appear to feel the eyes of her friend burning holes inside her back. Was he even a friend? What was he to her? What should she call him? There was nothing official between them, no feelings for them to be dating and, yeah they had sex the day before and a few hours back, first thing in the morning at that, but could she really call him her sex friend? She didn't know if they were even friends! He was kind of overbearing, especially when mocking her. She couldn't forget the many comments he would make, which would always hit bullseye, directly stirring up her insecurities. He was also intimidating in more ways than one, and she didn't see herself constantly seeking sex with someone she was kind of scared of in the near future.

Anyhow, she seemed to lack some basic and common instincts as she was blissfully unaware of the boy that was looking at her up and down, watching the small trail of cum dripping along her leg, which made her softly squirm as she discreetly moved to wipe it off with the hem of her skirt. He eventually sighed as he pushed himself off his desk before turning around on his chair, finally facing Deuce who was still going on and on about how his and the prefect's actions were not to be done on school ground, especially not in a prestigious school like the one they were attending, and that they should at least hide it and learn not to mix their school life with their private one.

"Why you' so obsessed with me and the prefect? You're jealous?" It was meant to be a playful teasing, just a tiny little one meant to stop him from uselessly blabbering his mouth off to him over an irrelevant scolding. But the sight of the blushing boy, only now seeing the horrible flushing on his face, made Ace stop dead in his tracks, his boyish smile fading away too quickly for it to be casual. Hey, that's not how it was supposed to go, Loosey-Deucey was meant to be pissed, to defend himself from the baseless accusation he had made out of boredom, not caught in the middle of an awkward truth. "Wait you seriously are?" And Deuce turned a shade darker as he immediately forgot about the potion at hand to, instead, shake his head from side to side as a denial. But Ace was no fool.

The blue haired boy immediately went back to his cauldron as he saw it turning to the wrong shade, the stream of red coming in the clear indicator that something bad was building up. "N-No, why would I want to do… t-that with the prefect?" He was now hyper focused on the greenish gooey liquid as it gained its color back. Ace raised an eyebrow at the fragile tone Deuce had taken. He didn't know who he was trying to convince (the red-haired or himself), but no one would have been with this voice.

So instead, he turned back towards his desk, resting his head on his forearm once again as he looked over the girl who was still doing all the group's work. She was pitiful, getting bullied so easily despite Crewel's warning towards her classmates that they should not even think about doing it, and he felt his heart acting up which made him bury his face in his crossed arms. Somehow, it annoyed him. The prefect had opened up to him first. Why would Deuce be interested in her? And what if all those bullies would, one day, also come to see the person hidden behind her title as the "magicless student who entered NRC out of pity when they had to work their asses off"? Even if it was an unrealistic outcome in his agenda, the simple thought somehow irritated him even more. "Fuck, it's annoying." He mumbled under his breath, his voice being drowned out by the students around him who rushed to finish their work as the end of the class was nearing.

His mind turned off as the tiredness from fooling around so early in the morning and not getting a wink of sleep finally hit him like a truck, and unfortunately for him, closing his eyes brought his downfall. What he felt was a few seconds had turned out to have been minutes. He didn't even managed to get a restful sleep as the only thing playing in his mind was a fuzzy memory of the girl's lips wrapped around his cock, before the sound of the teaching pointer hitting the desk standing right before the black board smeared with white chalk that were now embed in it (and would be clean clear overnight by a ghost) made him jump awake.

A small smirk was on Crewel's carefully painted face, which was the sign that a great disaster was incoming. "Good. Some of you puppies have a nice training coming along. Although for the rest..." His tone, satisfied at first, dropped low. A frown replaced the smile across his lips as his stick was waved in the air, a small trail of a gold-like powder following the shapes he was making before sending it slamming against the chalkboard, the powder crashing and turning to dust in an eye-catching show. As it disappeared, the lines he had made were now stuck on the board, and it turned out to be the names of quite a few students in the class. "The dogs whose names are here, stay. The other may run around." And Ace knew he was in deep trouble when he saw his name among the list.

Not so surprisingly though, neither Deuce's nor the prefect's name were there, which quickly made him guess what he did wrong as he complained to his partner who was already packing his stuff. But Deuce had none of it and he made sure to quickly tell him off. What did he want him to do? Advocate Ace by telling the teacher that he wasn't actually sleeping when the entire class saw him doing so? No, it was his long awaited lunch break and he wanted to eat. It wasn't his problem anyway, Ace could deal with the consequences, he had learnt, after the chandelier incident, that he should probably leave some people to handle their own problems. Especially if it was Ace Trappola. And that was also retribution for the shameless statement he made, implying that he, the model student that he was, wanted to do the deed with the Prefect.

And the red-haired dropped his head, going back to crossing his arms and resting on them, watching everyone but the selected students leave while loudly commenting about the menu of the day. Quite fast, his attention went back to the prefect, and a mocking huff from the back of his throat left his closed mouth. Just like Deuce, she was putting her notebooks away, diligently standing up and going towards the door without sparing a glance to her partner. He wasn't one to believe in superstition, but karma was truly doing its job. Her partner who had dumped all the group's work on her was also forced to stay and he looked absolutely devastated. He didn't know which dorm held this purple and red arm band he had, but it seemed like he would be in for a nice scolding by his dorm head (not like he didn't share the same fate). It wasn't a victory for her per say, but at least some of the students in the class would learn not to bring down the magicless student so openly if it meant being punished by the scary alchemy teacher.

She stopped in her tracks at one point, her head dropping to the side as she looked at Ace questionably. He was surprised when he saw her patiently waiting as if waiting for an answer. Did she… want to eat with him? It wasn't the implicit question that threw him off guard, but the fact that she had somehow found the courage to ask him about something, which he realized she hadn't done ever since they had met. And by the way she was fidgeting, it seemed that she was very much stressed about asking him this. So he put on the one smile he knew would get her not to worry about him rejecting her offer, the one that popular guys usually sported and would make girls squeal like those in a stereotyped teenage show, as he waved her off.

She immediately smiled back and nodded, turning around and walking towards Deuce. The two of them talked a bit —it was more of a one-sided conversation where she uttered a word or two and he answered awkwardly with a nod, but Ace was too paranoid at this point— as the last few students exited and Ace could see her smiling sheepishly at the blue haired boy before they left together. And oh was he pissed. She and the idiot who can't even put two and two together hanging out for lunch? His face morphed to greet yet another frown as he almost started to regret napping during his class, but he was Ace, the troublemaker who had never felt bad about any troublemaking before. Still, he at least hoped for the teacher to start whatever he wanted to say so that he could crash the little "date" the two were having.

And thankfully his wish was heard as Crewel immediately slammed the pointer in his hand once the last student had left. "Now, it seems like I should teach you puppies about discipline all over again. You may think I didn't see you, but that's taking me for a fool." Each of the people present were carefully scanned by his slitted eyes. He made sure to look at them personally, one after one squeaking under his gaze, before eventually pointing the closest to him. "You first. Stealing a potion, how idiotic of you."

And Ace knew that he was in for a looong ride if he was scolding and humiliating them one at the time. He probably wouldn't even have the time to eat at this rate. At least now he knew which teacher he shouldn't mess with.

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She started to eat her main dish, softly blowing on the hot potato stuck on her fork to cool it down before plopping it in her mouth. She tried to play off her mouth burning up (she didn't blow enough-) and breathed out in hopes of reducing the heat, but she could still hear the snickers of the students around as some of them were making comments about her eating like a starved dog or whatever dehumanizing and shameful thing their imagination could muster.

Eating at the cafeteria was a nightmare. She knew that upon setting foot there, she would have been assaulted by cold glares, a lot of mocking and teasing, but she didn't think it would be this bad. Not only that, but Deuce had also disappeared somewhere while she was filling up her own tray full of food, the ghosts serving her were grinning to the point that she could make out their gums as they handed her more than a normal portion. Was it out of sympathy, she didn't know, but it made her heart beat faster as she clumsily tried to bow down gratefully. She could feel the tears welling up as she received one of the very few kind gestures she had ever received since she ended up here. It was overwhelming, even if no-one could understand why her eyes had turned glossy. The ghosts were quick to make her straighten her back up as some students waiting for their turn behind were yelling at her to move out the way already.

She had rushed off to a table in one the corners of the room after a last grateful thank, starting to eat as she came to realize that no-one was sitting around her. They had all kept a distance big enough to fit at least two to three persons on the bench. At least she wouldn't have to worry about the noise… or that was what she thought until more students flocked in, still keeping the 3 seats distance improvised rule, and loudly made comments about her. So she tried to drown them out by eating the plates before her, which wasn't all that successful, but was the only thing she could do. Sure she had a phone she had snuck inside her skirt's pocket as Crowel had demanded for her to only use it for emergencies, but not only was it off-limits in a place that people could ell on her, but she had also forgotten to charge it and didn't want to use whatever left she had of her battery. And it's not like she could just barge next to them, demanding that they would stop spreading meaningless rumors or else… or else what? She was weak. She didn't know how to talk, was insecure, and the thought of one of them standing up, red with anger as they would scream their head off back at her, or even physically take it upon themselves to reprimand her, was enough to make tears prick her eyes. If she was at least half as confident as Ace or Deuce, none of this would have ever happened.

As she was still struggling to chew the hot potato in her mouth, the sound of a tray being put next to hers made her jump slightly, the sound of the metal cutlery clinging suddenly bringing her out of her thoughts. She looked over to see who it was, and low and behold, it was Deuce, wearing an apologetic look as he sat next to her. "I-It's not taken, right?" Taken? The seat? She shook her head, pointing out that all those around her were all free to be used. A relieved sigh left his lips before he straightened his neck with an unnatural and almost unheard laugh and jumped on the food. "I'm sorry for taking so long… I didn't know what to pick between carbonara and sautéed chicken…" She looked over at his plate to see that he had gone for the chicken.

She hummed in acknowledgement, "it looks tasty" she said before continuing with her own dish. Much like what she had done, he looked at what she had taken, curious by the fact that she had taken such a warm dish when the summer heat was still there. And trying to bring up some kind of conversation, and to maybe try and fight the way he would just freeze up in front of a girl, he repeated what he said out loud. "Why did I choose a potato gratin? It just… feels home for some reason." And it just reminded Deuce that the prefect was not only magicless, but also pretty much suffered from memory loss.

His curiosity growing, Deuce asked against any good judgment about her world. "Did you… forget everything about your homeland? His question was clumsy, and most certainly could have triggered someone, but the girl was pretty much okay with it. While it did feel weird to be asked that, it also made her all giddy to be able to exteriorise all these pent up feelings and the confusion about this entire situation.

"I remember nearly everything about my world, but when it comes to the memories about my own life and my family, except for general information, it's all blank." As if it was nothing, she picked another potato as Deuce had frozen at what she had said. Her circumstances were peculiar, and most importantly, he couldn't help but pity her. Remembering nearly everything except your own life? It sounded like something that someone could go mad about. "I have a mom, siblings, I'm one of the middle children, and I didn't have many relatives to interact with so it was mostly us."

"I-I'm sorry, I can't even imagine myself forgetting my mom…" He sighed as he looked at the food on his plate with a contemplative look. Yeah, he truly felt bad for her, maybe that it was his model student persona acting up, but he knew that he would have never felt this emotion before, not during his delinquent day. When he felt a hand grazing his blazer, he stiffened up, stopping dead in the act of munching his food as he started losing all the colors on his face.

He could see it from the corner of his eyes, her fingers tentatively flexing against his arm as she smiled at him. "Thank you for asking, although it's hard to miss something you can't even remember." He slowly turned his face to meet the girl's eyes, but she had already gone back to her plate. Her hand still on his arm. "Still, the nostalgia feels good, so I wanted to indulge it as much as I could. Thank you for asking."

Although she looked cool on the outside, a small smile clinging to her lips as potatoes after potatoes were stuffed in her mouth, she was internally confused. She had never spoken so much since she'd left this godforsaken coffin and it felt weird, and it's not like she had even gone on a tirade or any long monologue. She knew that it was because of Deuce who was acting much more shyly than her at the moment —her sisterly instincts taking over her despite how the boy was intimidating her, which forced her to take the role of the most extroverted and the leader of the conversation.

But the moment was cut short when she heard someone laughing, their voice breaking the atmosphere as she quickly removed her hands from Deuce's arm, much to his sadness. And the question that has been sitting at the corner of her mind suddenly sprung back. "Also I really wanted to ask," He nodded like a broken robot would, the movement unnatural and in short motion. "Do you not mind sitting with me?" He blinked once, twice, before his eyes eventually met hers.

She looked meek, fragile even, just like how he had found her when he had finally gotten his food. Not only was he strangely attracted to her, but she had also looked sick, with her dropping eyes and pale skin. His mind was racing with different ideas before he had cooly sat down next to her in the most casual way he could. Despite the way his heart was acting around her, he wasn't one to let a friend down, especially not when they looked down. "Uh, I should?" They both stared at each other, confused by his answer. Answering a question with a question? He coughed a bit as his cheeks were once again dusted with a light pinkish tone. "You looked sick, I don't know if it's because the classes were hard this morning, so of course I came. And you asked me to eat with you." More like she asked if they could eat together, but the phrasing didn't faze her one bit. If anything, something else caught her attention.

So he didn't see how everyone was sending her daggers with their eyes and how much it affected her. It turned out that he was more clueless than what she had previously thought, and it sparked off a giggle, one that she tried really hard to keep at bay so as to not offend Deuce. But he saw how her shoulders were staggering, the unnatural movement causing him to worry once again. "Are you okay?" It was the last straw for her who was trying so hard to keep it together. She bursted out laughing, tears building up at the corner of her eyes from how hard her stomach hurt. She didn't care about how she could see pairs of eyes staring at her incredulously through her blurry vision, the only thing that mattered was the blue haired one whose surprised face sent her into yet another fit of laughter before she could control it. Ah, she had missed this feeling! How ecstatic, how elated she was right now! Even as he tried to calm her down tentatively, which she tried to help by focusing on her breathing and less on the ridiculous fact that he was as oblivious as a kid (maybe even more at that point), she could only rejoice that such feeling would come in such a situation.

And right as she successfully calmed down, a grin stretched on her face as she, against her better judgment, playfully pushed her shoulders against his, yet another tray was put before her. Or more like middely slammed, as Ace sat down with pursed lips and eyebrows almost grinding. "What got y'all laughing?" He immediately went to pick a fork full of food, not waiting for her, or Deuce, to answer him before he started eating.

"It's not your business, is it?" Deuce's words made the two others stop, mouths still open as they turned to look at him. He was diligently swallowing each piece of chicken as unbothered as ever which made the red-haired's frown more noticeable. While Ace was offended, she on the other hand was more confused than anything, surprised by how the two immediately went into a passive-agressive behavior. Ooh, the tension could be cut by how thick it was, and she tried to descale it despite having up to no experience in this field.

"Nothing really. But you finally got here, what did professor Crewel say?" And thankfully for her, the boy was willing to let go of his grudge at the mention of the infamous teacher. She could see him rolling his eyes as he cringed, making her even more curious about what happened.

"Just like ya, nothing really." He smirked as he cheekily rested his head on his propped up hand, eyes meeting hers playfully. After his little show-off session that indeed managed to fluster her, he eventually straightened his back again to eat the rest of his meal. "He told me to come back after my last class." He said while cutting a piece of bread in two.

Her mouth fell open at that. She was expecting some kind of punishment since the teacher was quite literally glaring at him with a look that screamed "You're a dead man" and everyone who wasn't lazing off was practically offering prayers for Ace, but she was still surprised. "That's why you shouldn't nap during a class." She scolded him lightly, knowing that he wasn't entirely at fault there.

But he didn't seem to grasp that as he retorted back with a pout. "Yeah yeah, I'm surprised that you didn't either. You were wilder than me." She felt her cheeks getting hot at the innuendo behind his word. Of course she would be embarrassed if he said something like that, and she was lucky that no-one heard what he had just said as some kind of commotion was building up in the background. And right after, Deuce got up catching both of their attention. He looked serious as he arranged his tray before taking it. "Where you going?" The boy had not uttered a word ever since Ace had joined and it was weird for him to just leave out of nowhere.

"Classes start in less than 15 minutes." Or not, he was a model student after all. Kinda. As he walked away, the girl followed suit, quickly moving away from the bench so she could walk woth him to their next class.

She was stopped by Ace who was complaining about just joining in which got her to roll her eyes and tell him to eat fast or he'd be late. "At least wait in my room after school, I've got something to tell you." She stopped dead in her tracks, turning around to question him, but her words died in her throat as he had already moved onto something else, taking a look at whatever was trending right now on social media as he gulped down his food. She sighed as she continued on her way, wondering and dreading what he could possibly want to speak with her.

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When she arrived right before Heartslabyul, she was tempted to just walk back and tell Ace that something had unfortunately came up and had sadly prevented her from honoring what he had asked for. What would he do? Call her an idiot? It wouldn't be the first time, she knew she could withstand (or not) whatever insult he would tell her out of pettiness. But as she was thinking that she had a good excuse, a hand suddenly grabbed her shoulder and pushed her in someone's chest.

She looked up to grasp a view of this stranger who was so intimately touching her, his warmth spreading to her body in a way that was too disagreeable for someone like her who wasn't... especially touchy feely in her daily life, even less with someone she had just met. She only met a pair of green emerald iris shining as bright as the perfectly white lips aligning behind his stretched lips. The only thing she could make apart from his eyes and the beautiful orangish color strands of hair framing his face, was the diamond shape under his eyes —it matched the ones Deuce and Ace wore, albeit this stranger's drawing was more discreet and properly drawn than theirs— before his phone was trusted before her, a photo being taken during her confusion.

He pressed her tighter against his chest as he looked at it with pursed lips before sighing. "Tss, you're not photogenic, ya know?" Ouch, she didn't know who this person was, but his words were definitely unwanted. And also fueled the anxiety in her as she tried to back away from his touch by awkwardly trying to move her shoulder far from him. He had none of it, as his hand moved lower, reaching at the crook on her back to bring her closer. He tsked playfully as he flexed his hands against her school uniform. "Sooo you're the new student yuh? The one Ace got to screw up?"

W-What was even happening at this point? She took a deep breath, relaxing her stressed mind as she pulled away from his touch more forcefully. "Oop, I forgot to present myself!" She tried to look calm as she faced him, but this unwell look came back on her face. Eyebrows pulled together, a sickly complexion and the corner of her lips unwillingly sinking lower and lower with each passing second. "I'm Cater! Can call me Cay Cay tho☆ Now that we know each other you're not offended anymore, mmh?" She didn't know who this eccentric person was but she was pressured by his mere presence. Not only was he speaking and insulting her so naturally, but the people-pleasing tone he put forward was less than attractive, the fakeness of it making her inch further away.

Panic settled in his voice as he finally stopped to instead call her, he could see it, clear as day, that she was quite visibly tried to run away, almost as if she wasn't even trying to hide it —but she was, trying to be discreet because despite how this stranger was scaring her, she couldn't bring herself to potentially hurt his feelings. "W-Wait! You're here for Ace, no?" She nodded carefully, eyeing the door before switching her attention back to him. He put a hand on his hips as he sighed before playing with one of the hair strands falling on each side of his face, a tight smile gracing his thin lips. "Geez~ I was anxious that you would dump me for a moment there. Anyway, let me show you to his room." He switched back to his merry facade as he grabbed her hands, leading her through the labyrinth-like manor accommodating the Heartslabyul students.

She could barely pipe a word in, too focused on following the man and not tripping on her own feet to properly ask what was going on. She could see stairs slaloming under her, their checkered pattern paired with the messy show of cards and tea sets hanging from both walls and ceiling adding to her confusion and the dizziness from Cater's fast tempo. Where was he even walking her to? And how the hell did he know that she even wanted to see Ace? Perhaps he had assumed that they had indeed engaged in a physical relationship, which was a risky bet considering that they've only met like a few days ago and she was extremely shy, and that she wanted to go back to Ace to talk about it. But she didn't know if it would be a stretch to assume that this man, Cater, had done the same mental gymnastics she had had while he was pulling her here and there in the dorm. Although it all came to a stop when they arrived before one of the various doors in the vast corridor, this one was just as identical as the others, from the dark oak color of the wood, down to the card pattern engraved in it. She wanted to ask the ginger if they had arrived, but he was already by the stairs when she looked back at him, waving his arms, telling her something around the lines of "You should give me your magicam acc so I can tag you!" before leaving just as fast. Welp, here went her guide.

She turned to the door, taking in a deep breath, before knocking three times, waiting for a response. But when she heard no answer after a good five minutes, anxiously enduring the sly and mocking looks she would receive, she took it upon herself to open the door.

She quietly excused herself for entering without permission, her last attempt to see if someone was in the room. But when she peeked through the entrance, it was silent, and most importantly, no-one was there so she quietly stepped inside, the door closing behind with a soft "click" as she started to wander around a bit. It came to he that she knew nothing about Ace, not that it was surprising considering that they've only met a day or two ago, but it truly make her question how close they were and how she would be able to find his side of the room as it seemed like he was living with three other students in the small room. Walking along the impromptu lane leading to the window at the other side of the room, she was surprised to see, behind the curtains of the canopy beds, just how tidy and perfectly made the blankets were. It was the kind of effort that she lacked early in the morning and wouldn't put her energy into, she even cringed slightly as she could see the poor state she and Ace had left her bed in. As in covers haphazardly thrown on the bed and half of the cushions at the corners of the mattress with the rest on the ground.

When she arrived at the back of the room, looking carefully at each of the desks to see which side was Ace's, she stopped at the card-like furniture, placed against the far end wall, where a basketball was resting on. She carefully looked at the jacket hanging above on the wall, the one that she had seen a few students wearing in the dorm and making her wonder if it was some sort of uniform made specifically for the Heartslabyul resident, before inspecting the books nuzzled on whatever place was left on the cupboard. "Important figures of Basketball history" she read under her breath, huffing when she finished the sentence and switching to the book next to it. This one was about magic tricks… and this time she giggled, wondering why people here needed childish magic tricks when they had real magic. Surely a rabbit coming out of a magic hat was far less impressive than summoning one out of thin air. And the last book turned out to be the very reference book teacher Trein had given them a few hours before. Had Ace managed to drop his things before going to his club activity (and detention hour right after)? She wasn't sure, but to confirm her suspicions, she walked to the desk which she assumed had the same basketball and magic enthusiast owner, and it only took for her to peek at the notebook messily thrown on it to see the name tag "Ace".

She was relieved to say the least, that she didn't have to invade the privacy of someone else. So, gathering some courage, she slid the curtains of his bed to the side, enough to let her sneak in after kicking her shoes off, and let her body fall on it as she gradually started to relax. The bed was surprisingly comfortable, and she truly questioned how he had managed to sleep on hers because she surely wouldn't have been able to get a wink of sleep after trying such a cozy mattress.

After a few minutes, letting in sink that she had successfully come to Ace's room and relishing into the silence surrounding her, she eventually pulled out of her skirt's pocket the phone Crowley had given her the night he had handed her the ramshackle building. The first thing she did was opening the app store to download whatever this magicam social media was, although the name sounded vaguely familiar to what she had back home and gave her an idea of what it was. It took no time for it to be downloaded, and she thanked whatever God they had here, rejoicing in the fact that Crowley might have been an ass and the most irresponsible figure of authority in her life in the few days they've met, but at least he gave her a phone with a proper cell phone plan. Which was weird, but he probably expected her to use the phone outside of its original use (which was only emergencies).Opening the app, she immediately went to create her account, working through the shroud her memory was to remember just what was the name of her account back in her world, and going smoothly through the creation of her account until she came across the part where they asked her if she wanted to add a profile picture.

Oh, what was she supposed to do now? She could skip it, no problem, just go on through the rest of the process and scroll along the Night Raven student's posts to see what was trending in this world. Yet, somehow, and perhaps was it due to what she had done with Ace the day before —gosh she was blushing, her cheeks definitely hotter than they should, at the mere thought of it— but she couldn't bring herself to pass this step. She wanted… to take a picture of herself? Knowing that someone was willing to have sex with her truly made her feel better about her body and she wanted to try something "new." So she angled the camera above her, hair sprawled on the bed, framing her face and pursed lips as she tried to find the right photo. After a few seconds where she looked intensely at the camera, she abandoned the idea, letting her arm fold against her chest as she took in just how cringe she must have looked. What the hell made her think this was a good idea? She immediately went to her gallery and picked a random picture she had taken of the cute purple-ish flowers growing inside the moldy room with the water heater.

Right when she completed her profile, she heard the door clicking open which made her perked up as she put her phone to the side and moved to crawl on the bed. The curtains of the canopy bed were blocking her from seeing who had entered, and as to not surprise whoever entered, she made sure to make some sound behind her as she moved closer to the edge. She crawled all the way to the curtains where she pulled it to the side, enough for her head to peek out. Much to her surprise —yes she had been hoping to see Ace— she was welcomed by Deuce's face who reciprocated her surprised look. "Uh? Perfect, what are you doing here?" She should be the one asking him this, she never expected the two of them to be roommates.

She sat on the back of her knees after pulling the curtain farther away from her, an awkward smile hanging loosely on her lips while she lightly scratched the back of her ear. "A-Ah, I came here on Ace's demand. I'm sorry for entering without permission, no-one was there so I took the liberty to come in." He shook his head with wide eyes, his own way to tell her that it was no problem and she shouldn't be bothered by it. Her smile became brighter as she was relieved, which made him switch his attention to the bottle he had in hand, the one she only came to realize he was pulling out of his sport bag after she saw him diverting his eyes. He looked back at her, softly excusing himself, before once again distracting himself by looking at the floor as he moved across the room.

He walked to the bed next to Ace, which she assumed must be his as he had haphazardly dumped his all his sport stuffs on it, before he straightened his back, staring at the equipments peeking through the opening of the bag's zipper that he hadn't bothered to fasten close after he had taken his bottle out. A short silence stretched, one she was tempted to avoid by looking at some videos on magicam, and was almost about to do so, before his voice, unsure by the tone, resonated. "I-I'm not used to being around girls." She was definitely caught off guard by his words, but she didn't dare to pipe a word in as he let his head fall forward, a blush spreading on his face hidden by his blue bangs, while his fists clenched. "None of them ever approached me, or even looked me in the eyes actually, I was more rough back then and pretty scary so it became like that naturally I guess… T-That's why I sometimes freeze up, I guess that I'm kinda… c-caught off guards?" Deuce was definitely trying to express himself as clearly as he could. She had felt it already, how he would sometimes stumble over his own words and stop responding which forced her to talk instead, although she had unconsciously assumed it was because he was forcing himself to be friendly with her. Ah, it turned out it was just because he was somewhat "inexperienced". She definitely felt the same, not that she was scared of the opposite gender, she just felt overwhelmed by being solely surrounded by them, boys, men whatever she was supposed to call them with the attitude she had seen from some. Which would probably pressure and most certainly distress a lot of people if they were put in the same situation (let's not add that she was also magicless in a magic specialized school and seemingly hated by the entire student body for a reason that she wasn't even exactly sure about.)

She was about to comfort him, telling him that she couldn't care less about the stuttering or freezing up, but he pulled his head up right after which surprised her as she immediately forgot about talking. He walked his way to her after taking a long breath in and stopped before her as stiff as a wooden plank, eyes moving from hers then above her head when he made eye contact. "A-And I wanted to talk to you about something. Uh, important?" He said the last part quite unsure, not knowing if it actually was or not. She nodded slowly, her mind working hard not to let her imagination get caught in any unpleasant thought although it was quite hard for her who was used to it, but came to realize that she was still sitting on Ace's bed. It may not be much, but she thought that switching to Deuce's bed would be way better if they were to talk about something important, it might take a while after all.

And she was quick to voice out her idea, pointing to the bed where he had come from and raising herself off the one she was sitting on at the same time. "How about we move to your bed? It'll be way more comforta-"

"Wait!" He cut her off, his voice surprisingly loud which was unfit for his character, or at least for the character he had tried so hard to put up ever since they've met, and was surprised by his own voice as he started falling forwards. She jumped at the sudden movement and rolled back on Ace's bed right after losing her balance, his arms following along and falling on each side of her head as he moved above her, and both his legs caging her waist as he was now on all four above her. The two of them immediately fell into a trance as they gazed at each other's face. He was seeing details that he had failed to see before, since he wasn't one to care about appearance, like the black dot resting under her right eye, or the one below her pinkish lips which was tempting him into doing something he had never even thought about before. And when his eyes trailed lower on her neck and down to her collarbone that was free for him to see due to the few buttons she had opened from when she was quietly complaining about being hot earlier during their history class, he gulped down, the sight of yet another beauty mark hiding right below the fabric and near one of her breasts making his body ache as his mind started whispering incoherent thing to him. Like how he needed to trail a hand down along her chest, pass a finger or two under her shirt as he should press a kiss against her plump lips and taste her. It felt… overwhelming, and with the heat growing in him, his cheeks followed suit and darkened from the accumulation of blood.

And as for her, she was admiring his turquoise eyes, marveling at how bright and… lively they were, or his forehead, glistening due to the sweat building up and, and the small strand of wet blueish hair stuck to it. She saw how messy the Spade on his face was drawn upon closer inspections, the lines shaky and bumps decorating it, which made her remember that he was still pretty much clumsy despite how intimidating he may appear to her. But when she felt how insistent his eyes were, as she could see them glued to her chest, it made embarrassment bloom inside her in the most sickly way as she felt it blocking her trachea. She immediately looked to the side, instead focusing on his gloved hand and how his fingers were flexing against the fabric of the blanket as he was still contemplating her body. But was there even anything to see? Bile was creeping its way up from how nauseous she was becoming at the mere thought. Ace had managed to keep such ludicrous idea at bay by fucking her until she even forgot about her name, but now it was all coming back, and even stronger at the accumulation that kept building up.

He came back to himself once he saw that she had turned her face to the side, and immediately after his face turned livid as he bit his lips, he too, now facing the other side. He quickly got back up, moving to her left as he apologized for putting her in an awkward position, but still refusing to look at her. She used this chance to straighten her back, crossing her legs so that she would be more comfortable. "A-As I've said, it's pretty important…" Dread washed over her as if she had been hit straight in the face by those huge and aggressive waves that lifeguards would usually warn you about by blowing in their whistle, making her forget that the two of them were still on Ace's bed.

She wanted to nod like she had done before, not trusting her voice to not actually break down and willing to listen to what he had to say, although she feared it, she couldn't not face the situation now that this discussion of his was starting to impose itself as the elephant in the room. And all those anxious thoughts eventually overcame whatever defense mechanism she was supposed to have. Did he finally have enough of having to deal with her and her anxiousness? Of how she lacked a proper self-esteem, and how it could have made him avoid stepping up against a bunch of hot-blooded students if she had the same confidence he had? Did he… finally understand how boring and uninteresting she was? But he was facing the other way, which forced her to let out a soft and almost inaudible hum for him to finally look at her with an uneasy face.

He opened his mouth, and her mind went into a frenzy in those few milliseconds before his voice resonated in the empty room. He would finally say it, that hanging out with her (although the circumstances forced him to) was a pain, that he wanted her to never approach him ever again, and what if he said that she was annoying to deal with? She had tried so hard to put up a facade that would've helped her, faking being hurt, but in this situation she couldn't take it anymore, she didn't know if she could take one more insult, especially coming from him who she had slightly gotten closer to. "I'm sorry.." And silence reigned after that. He was sorry… what for she didn't know. And when she expressed out loud her confusion with a small and confused "Uh?" he awkwardly coughed in his fist before continuing. "I- I mean , how should I say this, I uuh just…"

"I– I've been thinking about i-ina—... i-inappropriate s-stuff about you– ou?" His stuttering became stronger with each word, his face once again cultivating this reddish color she was ironically starting to get accustomed to. And as for her… He had exceeded all her expectations, never would she have ever thought that someone would say that, to her of all persons! And by the look of it, he was just as surprised by what he had said. "I- I mean, after I saw you and Ace this morning I just— I'm not even sure if it's actually that? But seeing you just made me….?" He was tempted to bury his face in his hands, to hide any of his embarrassment, but instead gripped his pants.

She was surprised, her eyes widening as she thought back to what he could have seen, and to say that she felt stupid would be an understatement. Yes, she had quite literally forgotten about any decency this very morning as she had pulled her skirt up to remove Ace's cum from her leg, her mind still basking in all the sex she had had, and she only came back to her normal and awkward self after she had been brought back to reality by her potionology partner. She didn't know how she didn't feel any shame before that, and as of now, something else had quite ridiculously caught her attention. "Y-You mean I turn you on?" GAH! How could she say it like that?! The wording was so wrong, so vulgar, something that a model student shouldn't hear! And yet, the entire situation itself was something he shouldn't have ever found himself in in the first place. And the wording was pretty much true.

Instead of denying, like what his mind was screaming at him to do, he instead, against his better judgment, nodded slowly as if scared of her reaction, which was the case. And she was left speechless. Her fingers were flexing against her thighs as a way to chase after any type of support she could have at the moment, sweat building up along her palm. What was she supposed to do? Should she welcome him, invite him in her bed like Ace did, although Ace more of like jumped onto her and she went along with it. Deuce wasn't ugly by any means, and if anything, she wasn't against the idea of being intimate with him, but him wanting to do it with her? Of all people? She doubted already with Ace, but this just made her question herself again. Was she simply an easy target or did she enter some kind of beauty standards here? "I mean… I'm not against it, you know."

"E-Eh?" He was taken aback at her words, his mind not taking into account her meek and unsure voice but only the approval. She was… Okay with going through his damn twisted needs?

She shifted on the bed awkwardly, moving her legs so that her heels were now digging into her butt from how she had placed them. "Doing it, pleasing you… I wouldn't mind pleasing you." She didn't know how she had managed to say it without stuttering, the benediction of always keeping her tone cool when stress arose, definitely taunting her at this very moment. And he was taken off guard.

"A-Are you sure?" He was impatient but tried to keep some manners, and anyone could clearly see it from the way he was staring at her with wide eyes. She nodded quietly as she shyly brushed a few hair strands out of her face, trying not to look into his eyes and make it more awkward for her.

She moved so that her legs could hang above the floor. "Of course. I don't really like lying or giving false hope." Because I would like you not to do so, was the unsaid part, the one she left hanging hoping that he would catch on. Which he didn't, but he was a man with values. If she had expressed her ideas that clearly, it'd have been hypocrisy not to respect and reciprocate her own moral codes and him… He was a model student, yes one that indulged himself into the carnal desire making his body heat up like a fever, but mainly one that is supposed to respect others.

He nodded, not trusting his voice, to show that he was listening and agreeing with her. And he was right not to voice out his thoughts as he would have let out an ungracious noise when he felt her hand touching his. While he was as stiff as a stick, wondering what she was planning, she had already laid out her plan inside her mind. She didn't have much experience, the only one she had was Ace, and she didn't want to count in those educational videos and porn she had watched out of boredom, so she naturally planned on redoing what she had done with the red-haired. So sucking him off came first.

"Umm, so you've got any condoms? I heard you guys were given some the other day." He was taken out of his reveries as he mentally thanked Cater for delivering him the bag of condoms the prior day instead throwing it straight to the trash. Indeed he had kept it because he could never discard something his senior would give him, no matter what it was, but this detail could be put aside for now. He nodded vigorously, leaping out of Ace's bed and leaving her confused on it as he went to his side of the room. He opened the lowest drawer of his desk, pulling out the same bag the ginger brought to her, rummaging through it to find something his size. He never had sex with anyone, far from it, if anything he was feared by everyone and it never came to him just how sexually frustrated he could be. Still… He may have participated in a few "manly" games with his friends, dumb things boys would do like running around naked in the locker room instead of washing the sweat off their body after their PE class, and of course, comparing their size was the event he had to go through.

When he felt her shoulder brushing his arm, his soul almost left his body as he almost jumped, immediately turning to look at her although her eyes were locked on the condoms he was rummaging through. She hummed slightly, almost too low for him to hear, before she faced him. "So you know your size?"

Deuce blinked a few times before a reddish hue went back to his cheeks as his lips were slightly pursed. He took a small plastic package while nodding. "Y-Yeah." She turned back to him with a small smile on her lips as she hummed acknowledging what he said. It was out of instincts, but she unconsciously compared him to Ace. How much kinder and calm he was. How straight to the point he would act sometimes. How adorable the red tint on his neck was. How much stronger he looked compared to his roommate. It wasn't right, and she knew the two would be offended if she ever voiced out this thought, but she couldn't help it. They were the only ones she had had a positive interaction with so far and seeing how different the two were was just inevitable.

She took the condom out of his hands as he eyed her, not daring to do anything as he waited for her to say something. "Go sit on the bed, I'll do it don't worry." She gave him yet another smile that managed to make him crumble as he pitifully nodded before doing what she asked, placing himself on the edge of his bed. She didn't wait for him to make himself comfortable that she was already on her knees before him, hands playing with the squarish plastic she was holding and ripping it open carefully. Not wanting for her to do everything, he immediately moved to his trousers, fumbling with his fly as he was suddenly hyper-aware of what he was about to do. Not that he wasn't before, but only now did it come to him that he was about to lose his virginity. He wasn't stressed per say at the idea, he had just never thought about the importance of it before as he never had the chance to. Feared as he was, his mates nor the world around found use in explaining it to him.

She lightly tapped his leg, soft enough for it to catch her attention. "Are you scared?" She could see that his mind was somewhere else as he had stopped undoing his slacks, his hands holding the side of his pants as he looked before him with an absent look. She chuckled softly before rubbing his thigh with a smile. "Don't worry! If something displeases you, be sure to tell me about it, and I'll immediately stop."

He blinked a few times at her before trying to give her a small smile, although it came out more as a grimace than anything else. He was clearly uncomfortable and she didn't know if it was because he was stressed or because he wanted to stop but felt like he was forced to do it, and she would hate the latter to be the on-going scenario. So she decided to test the water as she asked him in a soft tone to get up enough so she could finish what he had started. And he eagerly did so as he pushed his hands in the blankets and raised his hips for her to help him lower his pants. She was surprised by the speed with which he did so, but it also proved that he wanted it, right? And assuming that, she took the edges of the pants of his school uniform and slid them lower together with his underwear.

She was surprised to see him almost rock hard, his erection already well formed as it stood upright, and the only thing she could note was that he seemed to have more girth compared to Ace, the veins along his cock running all the way up to the slightly red tip. It was circumcised. She said the last one playfully in her head as she brought her hands to his length, not aware of the way her lips were unconsciously brought upwards. "I- Is there a problem?" She took her eyes away to look at him at his question, his face just as red as before. Why was she smiling? Was it not what she was expecting? Perhaps was he not big enough?

A groan resonated in the room when he felt her fingers on either side of the base of his cock, and he clasped his hands on his mouth the next second, definitely taken by surprise by what she had done. And right after his back straightened up, her warm breath now ghosted over his tip. Shit, he could never go back to lonely pleasuring if those two things alone managed to push him closer to his climax, his hands could never compare to her.

"Deuce. Are you sure that you want it?" He was taken aback by her sudden question.

He looked down to finally meet her eyes, and he tried real' hard not to look aside when he saw just how lewd she looked right now, kneeled on the ground and ready to please him. "Of course, if not I'd have said so…" His voice hitched before he released a shaky breath as she smiled at him with half-lidded, trying to dispel any left-over doubts he may have had but instead conveying a sultry look as she pressed her cheek against his cock. Did he say lewd before? Because she looked absolutely depraved now, his dick squished tight between his abdomen and her face.

One last smile was thrown his way before she focused back on the situation at hand. "Then I'll start, you can stop me whenever you want." She pushed a few hair strands out of her face before getting to work, and he took this chance to tear his gaze away from her. No, he didn't dare to look down, his eyes pretty much analyzing Ace's side of the room which happened to be the only thing in his field of view, but he could sense it, feel it, as her hands wrapped around his cock carefully. A tight squeeze, then slow pumps, her breath ghosting above his tip, her tongue flicking over the pinkish top of his dick, the walls of her mouth warm and welcoming, the sound she would make every time he met the back of her throat, the build up was happening faster than his mind would have liked, he couldn't come now… Wouldn't it be embarrassing?

She carefully cradled his cock, her fingers and tongue flexing against it as she tried to make him more comfortable. Or at least comfortable enough that he would stop glaring a hole inside the wall and let his tense muscles finally relax. She could feel his legs, trapping her on each side, and how they were subtly trembling from the knee up to his waist as if he was keeping himself from thrusting inside her mouth. But that was the idea, that's what he was supposed to do. She agreed to please him, he could at least let himself go. So she sighed as she took him out of her mouth, the remnants of the lubricant the condom was coated with making her mouth heavy as she gulped down the excess of saliva. "... Is there a problem?" He was once again taken aback and he slightly jumped when he heard her voice. He was so focused on not coming that he had not even seen when she had stopped sucking him off, much to his embarrassment as he felt shame blooming and forming a ball in his throat. He shook his head from side to side, a way to tell her that no, there were no problems but she still frowned. "Are you sure? You seem quite tense." And as to emphasize her words, she pressed her fingers on his toned thigh, the muscles proving to have hardened under the tension and making her action almost unnoticeable.

Well… she was right, he did feel troubled, but what was he supposed to do? Assume that he was scared of coming too fast? Tell her about it? "Oh, actually, your mouth feels amazing but I'll cum soon so I'm trying not to focus on it so we can go longer!" He may actually be dense, but he had a self-esteem and an ego to keep up with. And seeing how reluctant he was to speak, she merely sighed and flexed her fingers around the base of his cock before looking him straight in the eyes. She may be shy and not think highly of herself, but she was a people pleaser before anything else, and if he was unsatisfied by her then she just had to try a bit harder. Without overstepping any barrier that would make him too uncomfortable of course. "Deuce." A shiver ran along his spine at the way his name left her lips. "I'll go back to it, but please do not overthink anything. If you're cuming faster than you would have liked it's okay, I do not expect you to have the stamina of a porn star on the so few times you could have had sex — without mentioning that most men in the industry drug themselves to be able to keep up for at least 30 minutes. So please…" Why the hell was she suddenly giving him a serious talk in-between sex? She didn't know, nor did he, but it just felt right and she had started to talk before she knew it, because it seemed, in a certain way, nice, when she said those words in her head.

"Trust me, I won't judge you."

He gulped down audibly, the bump of his Adam's apple bobbing at the same time. Should he trust her as she had said? It's true that she had not judged him in the short time they had been together, but could he really thrust his entire reputation and self-esteem in her hands? He certainly felt uncertain about it, but the way her eyes looked up at him hopefully, not knowing that she had actually defiled him and thought he just felt uneasy with her, he somehow… couldn't resist.

"Okay… Okay let's try again." She brightened up, her lips stretching in a warm smile as she nodded vigorously before looking back at his cock, still in her hands. She had the affirmation that she could start again! She felt more than happy about it, glad that he had not only decided to indulge her requests, but that she now also had the chance to please him.

Seeing that he was still sensible due to her previous touches, she only pumped his length a few times before she lowered her head once again. She made sure to go slowly, still delicate with her touch and attentive of how he would react, as she pressed the tip between her lips slowly enough as to not scare him. A spark ran along his spine, his knee jumping in reaction to it and almost hitting her in the head. She looked up to see what was happening but was only left with her mouth agape as she saw his head thrown backward, his fist pressed against his lips to conceal any noise that threatened to leave his mouth. He couldn't break now, she had barely even touched him! It was embarrassing for him to fall apart so easily when they had just begun, as if he had never been touched before. Which was the case, but he had hoped that he would have lasted longer than that, that he didn't have to strain his trachea to keep any hiss from leaving his lips. And fuck, he did say that he was willing to trust her, but maybe that he had overestimated his strength.

Although his efforts were for naught as when he felt her lips circling his length, the moist and damp walls of her mouth warming and cuddling him, he let out a small whimper, her action catching him off guard and breaking down those walls he half-heartedly tried to build. She hummed at the delicious sound he let, the bottom part of her underwear growing moist the more he started to thrust inside her mouth, gaining confidence with each and every move. Somehow, hearing him panting, groaning, being rough with her, it made her want for him to come faster. And she pumped him faster, working her tongue to hug the underparts of his cock where she could feel a vein throbbing, pushing him closer to the edge.

And it didn't take long for him to tip and fall head first into it, the warmth in his lower stomach aching and his voice reaching deeper notes as he felt himself coming close, only a few thrusts left for him to come undone. So he made sure to do so, the last few movements harsher than any before and making her wonder if he was trying to choke her down on his cock, which was probably the case although he'd have never admitted it. Right after, his pace stuttered and she felt the condom growing, now heavy in her mouth, which prompted her to finally take him out of her mouth.

She immediately moved to carefully remove the condom, trying not to let any of his cum drip out of, humming with a satisfied tone all the while. He was trembling, his head still thrown aback as he took in just how intense was his climax, and to say that he was on cloud nine would be an euphemism with how light he felt at the moment. She was good at it, and by "it" he meant her sucking his dick off, and he wondered for a while if he could… perhaps, go down on her. But he had already asked enough, he couldn't possibly demand that she would give herself to him. And while he was going through his own dilemma and mindlessly put himself back in his pants, she tied the condom, marveling at the amount inside it, before throwing it inside the trash bin between his bed and Ace's desk.

Squatting back up, she walked to him and made herself comfortable on the bed as she looked at him expectantly. "I— Is there anything you need?" He didn't know how to react to her eyes, why was she so suddenly coming head on on him with those bright eyes staring back at him? But at his words she deflated. The corner of her lips dropped before she put a smile back on, this time more shy and almost disappointed.

"No… No. I think it's okay." By her tone, it wasn't clear whether or not she was trying to convince him or herself. But the way her face looked less alive than before didn't go unnoticed by him. And he thought maybe, just maybe, if he was to ask to see her body, would it take her mind off whatever she was thinking about? It was a flawed way to think things through, he would have offended more than one person, and yet, despite being aware of this, he still took the risk of asking.

His calloused fingers went to put a strand of hair behind her ear, startling her as she jumped slightly before relaxing at the warm touch. She leaned in his hand and he hesitated for a while about what he was about to say. But… "Can I—" He whispered as he leaned forward, his lips hanging above hers as her eyelids fluttered close with a hum. "Touch you?" And her breath was taken away as she opened her eyes wide with surprise.

Did he just ask what she was hoping for? Did he… volunteer to do it on his own after she had lost hope for it?

She looked to the side with a blush, which almost sent him into panic before she eventually nodded shyly, giving him the signal that he needed. He wasn't expecting her to agree so easily to it, and he was glad to see that she was ready to go with whatever he wanted at the moment. And trying to see how far it could go, he asked yet another question. "C-Can you move further into the bed?" He asked quietly and she agreed with a small voice before doing so, much to his relief. His bed was close to the door, and if anyone were to barge in, if he couldn't hide the sounds they would make, he could at least do so for their naked body. So when she finally settled back on the bed, kneeled in the middle of the blanket as she made herself comfortable, he made quick work of closing the curtains of his canopy bed, the heavy material shielding them from the outside world. There was no coming back, he told himself as he swallowed heavily before turning back to her. She was still playing with the hem of her skirt, as always, when he approached her. "Do we need to undress…?" And undress they should indeed, but the idea was taunting her.

Undressing before Ace had been done in the heat of the moment, when her clouded mind couldn't hear the small voices at the back, dying for her to just put on some clothes again to cover her hideous body from him as quickly as possible. Now that she was fully conscious of the situation, not yet fully aroused, it was bugging her. But she still agreed with a small voice before taking the button at the very top of her waist coat and popping it open, doing so with each of them before the piece of clothing was discarded to the side and she moved onto the next one. Deuce's eyes were glued to her shaky hands, watching as she unraveled her naked body for him to see, which further turned him on. He… really wanted to see how she'd look all flustered, back arching and voice singing his name under his touch.

"Uh Deuce? You're not undressing?" She had stopped moving when she saw him staring, her shirt still around her wrists as she had yet to remove it. He felt himself blushing, ashamed that he had been caught red handed, and he only grew twice as red when he saw her naked chest, realizing that she did not wear a bra in the first place. She was going around school with nothing under her shirt? Just… What has she been thinking? He could barely wrap his mind around this fact, suddenly growing aware of how vulnerable she could have been if someone other than him had discovered, but also of the many times she had pressed herself against him out of fear during the mine incident —or was it because she was intimidated by Ace? Because she seemed to scurry over to him whenever she saw that the ginger's gaze was on her. That was until the monster came, and she was the first one to take actions, cooly calling for them to team up which they did without arguing seeing how level-headed she had been.

He gulped down before looking to the side, immediately working on removing his own uniform as fast as he could. "I-I'm sorry! I didn't mean to stare." The words were coming out faster than his mind could process, further embarrassing the two of them as the situation had yet to settle in them. To take his mind off the silent settling back in the room, he started taking his shirt off, the white fabric thrown to a corner before he switched to the belt loosely hanging around his waist. His pair of slacks joined the rest of his clothes as he now kneeled on the bed with only his underwear on him. It was embarrassing… She couldn't look him in the eyes, her gaze only managing to go no higher than his sculpted legs. But fighting off the feelings bubbling inside her, she moved to her skirt, removing it and leaving her in a pair of plain white panties she had somehow managed to get thanks to Crowley's "kindness."

Now they were both in their most vulnerable apparel, and the sight did not fail to bring them both further down inside their shyness. She was pretty, Deuce wondered in his mind as his eyes went back to her chest almost too shamelessly for his own taste, but he couldn't help himself. Seeing how insistent he was, she tried to call out his name, but he beat her to it, leaning forward with red tinted cheeks as he fought off the stuttering. "Can I?" He asked as his hands hung right above her cheek, not yet touching it as he waited for her approval. Her lips parted, a small whispered "yes" leaving her mouth, and right after he cradled her face, leaning towards her as he pressed a chaste kiss on her mouth.

She hummed, about to pass a hand behind his neck to pull him closer, but he broke the kiss before she could. The disappointment she felt could clearly be seen on her face, although she was unaware of it and seemed just as clueless, but he quickly dived back in, repeating a process of pressing short kisses before pulling away, which quickly frustrated her. So when he closed in again, she took the chance to put two hands on his shoulders to pull him closer, closing the distance half-way through and parting her lips to deepen the kiss. He was surprised, not managing to do much other than take in the way her fingers played with his hair, fingers scratching the back of his head, or her tongue finding its way to meet with his in a messy kiss. A-Ah— She took his first kiss so easily, switching his tentative experiments to something much more sensual, as drool started to drip on both their chin and her wet muscle finding its way inside his mouth. It was overwhelming, and to compensate for this feeling, he put his hands on her waist, moving so he could press his body against hers, her breast modeling against his chest and making him painfully aware of the perk buds squeezed against him.

Deuce once again broke the kiss to carefully wrap his arms around her back, his skin grazing hers right above the plain band of her underwear before pressing a kiss on her lips. But this time, instead of going back to her lips, he moved against her cheeks, slowly moving his kisses lower and lower. She closed her eyes, rolling her head backwards and taking in the ticklish sensation of his lips on her throat as he took the time to explore around her clavicle before diving even lower. Her hand unconsciously flew to the top of his head where she cradled him closer, her body shuddering at each of his slow and languid kisses, making her wonder if the arm she had moved and was propped behind her would be enough to keep them two upright with how much it was shaking. Not only was he weakening her body, but he was also leaning and putting more of his weight on her the more he explored her chest.

A surprised squeak left her when she felt his lips tugging the very tip of her nipples, the flash of pleasure shooting along her spine enough to startle her. It felt weird. She thought for a moment whether she could come undone just by it, but one thing she could testify for sure was that it felt incredibly good. Too good, actually, and she instinctively started playing with his short strands of hair mindlessly. He hummed when he felt the warmth of her hand, the throbbing sensation stealing yet another sound out from her.

Her eyes started to water, the heat taking over her face, making her thoughts foggy the more he played with her nipples, the tip of his tongue teasing her over and over. And a pitiful moan left her lips the moment he switched from one breast to another, the new one much more sensitive than the previous, and instead of freezing up like he would have certainly done a few moments before, knowing that he was doing right he sucked her skin much more vigorously, not even stopping when the obscene noise of slurping resonated inside the room. Teeth and moist were the only things she could register as she started to lose touch with her mind. The only things that brought her pleasure at this moment.

But he let go after a while, earning a pitiful and annoyed huff from her that he didn't register as he was panting, restless and impatient about what was about to come. His lips, flushed and plump, were still connected to her nipple by one thin bridge of spit that didn't take long to break in half. And right when it did, his gaze that had been fixated on her clavicle that rose with each short and shallow breath —as if she was doing this not to fill her lungs with oxygen, but to find support in a casual and familiar action— switched to her lower half, his attention now focused on the last pair of garments on her body that was hiding what he coveted the most. Gently, as if fearing that it would take her out the delight she seemed to be indulging, Deuce's hot breath slid along where her diaphragm is, slowly reaching lower and lower, hands barely trailing down the side if her thighs, until he finally reached the band of her panties.

A shallow kiss was pressed under her navel, bringing her mind back to the current situation, but just enough so that she could once again gently play with his hair as she watched him peel off the fabric that cladded her skin oh so dreadfully away from his lust. His fingers worked steadily, nails leisurely grazing her skin as he no longer cared about the aching pain between his legs, now fully focused on unveiling her most private part. Although the impatience he felt before quickly came back once he realized that removing the piece of clothing would be hard of he stayed between her legs, and he almost huffed as he got up, some of the old manners, from his previous delinquent year he had tried hard to forget, threatening to come back.

Clueless to what he was planning, her heart easily jumped into a sudden frenzy and panicked tempo when he pushed her body backwards, her back hitting the mattress before her mind even properly registered the fall. The small gasp that left her lips was not taken into account as he went back to what had caught his attention just a moment before, as in the panties that were still clinging to her hips and teasing him endlessly the more the time passed. So trying not to be too rough, although he did want to go harder on her, he carefully peeled the plain textile down to her knees, never once taking his eyes off the apex of her legs as he did so. She felt heat warming her face up with embarrassment, his eyes clearly focused on the one part that she felt the most insecure and impossibly driving her further down the shame eating her inside out. For Pete's sake! He was so slow with it! She knew that he tended to be clueless, right this moment she could only think about Ace who had not wasted a second to go down on her. Her thoughts quickly shifted back to Deuce who had, during a moment of inattention from her, decided that pulling both her legs up would help him, taking her ankles with one hand and pulling them up to his shoulders for them to rest on.

Focused on the piece of undergarment, he failed to notice the way she had subtly moved her fingers to hide her face away from him, but it also allowed him to work faster, making quick work of the fabric as he threw it somewhere with the rest of the clothes they had removed. When he eventually turned back to her, he thought nothing of her now closed legs, most likely unaware and oblivious about her current shame, and passed two hands on each side of her thighs, parting them apart easily, the tip of his fingers delighted by the simple touch of her supple soft skin that he was tempted to lavish with kisses. Her embarrassment only tenfolded at that, draining every last bit of confidence she had had as she tried to hide by burying her back further into the bed.

The first thing he did was pass a finger between her folds, spellbound as he spread her glistening juice along. And she twitched slightly as he grazed her clit. Then twitched yet again as he passed over it a second time, then a third time, fourth, doing so every time he would repeat his clueless action out of wonder, and up until she eventually let out a small noise that finally managed to take him out of this trance. Seeing her panting, he curiously repeated what he had done so for the past minutes, this time watching closely what provoked her odd reactions. And when his fingers spotted the place, the small bump against his finger, he tentatively played with it before stopping once she started to writhe under his administration. He definitely learnt it at school, during those anatomy classes he made the effort to attend because his friends told him it would be fun — they were the epitome of kids finding entertainment and getting restless by just hearing the word “sex” — and seeing her reacting that way only confirmed that he had indeed found what he had been taught was a clitoris.

So without much thought he bent down, placing his head further between her thighs, until he was face to face with the small bud of flesh. His breath ghosted over her clit, her legs tightening behind his head as her hand weakly grasped the sheets under her writhing body. At the, what he assumed was (and it was a correct assumption from his behalf), a positive response to his actions, he tentatively pressed his lips against the perked out bud sitting between his fingers, this time sucking on it. A loud gasp came out of her mouth before she immediately sucked on her lower lip, stopping herself from making too much noise out of fear of being heard. But he continued, passing his tongue over it in hopes of seeing just how much she could take in, even sneaking a finger inside her hole to further test her. And she was what one would say, “on cloud nine.” She could feel the heat taking over her lower stomach before it bloomed on her cheeks, slowly losing touch with the feeling in her legs as she felt tears welling up by the corner of her eyes, even the distant feeling of a tear falling by the side of her face was vaguely registered. And he continued to suck on it, his fingers moving faster inside her hole, probing with more confidence as the time passes until he was just fucking her. All until she felt a familiar feeling coming back, her walls clenching painfully as she felt the tell-tale signs of her upcoming release. And as he refused to get slower, it was only a matter of time before he felt her juice drenching his face, tainting his face in the best way he could have dreamt of.

He made sure to lick along her slit, gathering up whatever was left of her semence, before kneeling down, towering her trembling body in such a debauched scene. Her breath stuttering and his cock twitching along as he looked at her intensely, wondering what position he should tame for her to feel comfortable for the next step. He eventually settled on something simple, opting to lay on his forearms on each side of her face, one hand making a quick way down so he could adjust his shaft to press between her folds. She opened her eyes to see his face right above hers, his tongue wetting his skin before he looked into her eyes, asking for permission. At the look he sported, she shyly nodded. And “I'll go…” Was all he said before he started pressing the tip of his cock to her walls, the arm steadying his body upright trembling the further he went inside her. The warmth, the dampness, the clenched walls hugging him and coaxing him to go deeper was all too much for him, and he wondered for a moment if he should just pull out. But when he felt fingers cradling the back of his neck, he opened his clenched eyes previously closed out of instinct when he slid inside her, and he lost touch with the feeling burning his lower stomach inside out, suddenly more focused with the woman under him. Once again, he was taken aback by her beauty, focusing on as many details as he could while he rested inside her as he waited for her to get used to his length. The entry had been easy, with how wet she was as she had cum all over his fingers it would be surprising if she wasn’t properly prepped, but waiting for her still came as a necessity, or so screamed his instincts at him.

“Y-You… You can continue.” She whispered sheepishly, her lips pursed as she tried not to look at him directly in the eyes. The words she used were too familiar, they were almost an exact copy to those she had read in the many smuts she would find online when boredom would hit, creating this feeling that what she said was just so… cringe? And now she could only wait for Deuce to act, not daring to say anything anymore as she would surely further embarrass herself if she were to utter anything more.

It didn't take long for him to pull out, only the tip wet with both his and her cum left inside her, before he thrusted back in with one harsh motion that made her gasp before she immediately clamped a hand to her mouth. The pace set was almost unforgiving, his cock constantly hitting the spot next to her cervix as if to punish her for shielding away her voice. The more her mind got muddier, the looser her hold became until he saw the chance to take her fingers in his, intertwining them and using the grip as a way to stay stable above her while listening to her voice. Small puffs left her open mouth as her eyes were tight shut, and soon enough the sound of chocked whines escaped her clamped teeth, coming out through the sound of small hiss, replacing them.

His other hand, more playful than the other, moved between their bodies all the way to her perked clit where two fingers rubbed small circles. She felt hot, her lower region burning intensely as the heat took over her numb legs all the way to her face where tears started to well up. And when she stuck her tongue out, ventilating herself, he dived to her, pressing his lips to hers and stuck his own muscle inside, the kiss messy and drool sullying both of their faces.

The mix of her drowned cries, their vibrations traveling along his very being down to his twitching cock, and the pleasure messing with any rational thoughts made his mind almost shut off. And as his mind began to numb out, he grabbed the back of her legs, right under her ass, pounding into her more harshly. He could feel her walls closing around him, sucking him in more and more each time he pressed a finger with more strength than necessary on her clit. His body felt hot, a feverish warmth making him lose all kinds of worries he may have had before. Shit, he was close, awfully close, as he thrusted faster under her cries of pleasure that she tried to swallow in quite the useless attempt as she was way too fucked to even care about properly covering them up at this point. The tip of his cock hitting the same spot repeatedly, if not almost desperately and definitely without any regards of her feeling — she could see through her tears the way he gritted his teeth as he looked down to where the two were connected with a determined look, and she could only kiss his cheeks over and over, as if drunk, to evacuate some of the pain and the fever clouding her mind. Was he close? He surely was, and she encouraged him, her lips moving closer and closer to his with each of the thrusts tipping her closer to the edge as she imagined the two of them sharing yet another steamy kiss.

It didn't take long for her to come, her walls closing around him to the point that it almost restricted any of his movements, and the tightness didn't fail to make him follow her. The feeling of him milking her, his seed warmer than expected, made her lose up. They were both sensitive, the aftermath still fresh and teasing them both as their breath synchronized, and when he pulled out, his semence not wasting a second to drip out, he fell next to her with a hiss.

After a few minutes, just taking in each other's presence without any care in the world, she eventually spoke up. "Aah, I need to wash, I'm so sweaty." She complained with a pout that could be heard in her voice. But instead of receiving an awkward and stuttered answer like she was expecting, she felt him freezing up next to her. Curious as to what caused him such a reaction, she turned to the side, her body drawing a pronounced curve from her hips, brushing a wet strand out of his eyes as he tried to avoid her gaze. "Is there a problem?"

He suddenly stood up, his back now facing her as he tried to think of what to say. "N-No it's just that…" he looked back at her with a frown, eyes trying not to look below her face as she was still pretty much naked and sprawled on his bed. "First years have to use the… communal shower room." And by the way she lost all the colors on her face he knew that she understood the implications of such things.

She took a nearby pillow and pushed it on her face as she was preparing for the possible insults that were tempted to leave her lips, the fabric of the pillow the security she needed if she wanted to keep Deuce away from her dirty language. Why were communal bathrooms a thing here too?! Especially in a school that was supposedly "high-class" as this was the latest thing that could be called classy! How was she supposed to clean herself up and remove the smell of sex clinging to her body if a student could come at any time and see her naked… And seeing her distress, Deuce quickly thought about something to help her with the current bathroom problem. He may be oblivious but coming up with solutions to problems was easy for him, although the solutions weren't always the brightest or the best ones (most often than not they only brought him more problema). He cleared the back of his throat to catch her attention, which he immediately got as she removed the cushion from her face and slightly raised her back so she could lean on her forearms from behind.

He muttered something incoherent under his breath, and she wondered just how red he could become, because he kept breaking records ever since he had entered the room. She leaned forward, putting on a kind smile that was supposed to help him calm down as she gently asked him to repeat, but it only made him fumble even more. "W-We can ba-bath to—… together?" And her mouth literally fell open at that. Did he really suggest what she thought he did when he couldn't even look her straight in the eyes because of how shy he was? It was…

"A good idea actually." She stated matter-of-factly as she looked at the ceiling with a pensive look on her face. So far he had only managed to come up with weird and destructive ideas — yes she's thinking about the chandelier incident — and for him to suggest something that would actually work was a pleasant surprise. He could surely hide her if they were to bath together. So she looked down at his face with a shy smile on her lips. “Should we go now then?” And as he nodded, he set the plan in stones.

So they switched to their clothes quickly, the stickiness of their sweat making her squirm as she remembered that she’d have to use them again to go back to her dorm, and made their way to the communal bathroom in the most discreet way possible. Lucky them, out of all the stalls, only one was free and they rushed to it, hiding behind the door before anyone could spot them. They removed their clothes just as quick, moving as fast as they could under the shower head so they could get done with it as soon as possible, but for some reason, now that they were both under the shower head, water, fog and heat surrounding them, they had reverted back to their shy selves, as if he hadn't been balls deep inside her not even half an hour ago. She feared being confronted again to her unsightly body, not only that, but he also had a good view of it from where he was standing. Would he finally see her imperfections? How some of her fat crease in the wrong way? What if didn't like the dips along her hips– Yet coincidentally so, his worry was exactly what she was dreading. He could indeed see her in all her glory, and he was ashamed to say it was arousing him once again. He was trying hard to keep his boner at bay, they were here to take a bath after all, and he didn't know if he could keep it any longer.

Because when she had started to wash her hair, arching her back forward to get as much water as possible, she accidentally moved back and her ass bumped into his hard-on, making the two of them freeze. He looked down to see the tip peaking against both of their bodies, her lower back still pushed against his waist as she tried to assess the situation. He was getting hard again! Just how much energy did he have for him to get aroused after less than ten minutes?! But no matter how much she acted surprised, her teeth playing her bottom lips shyly, she, too, was starting to ache down there. So in the most out of character idea she could have ever followed, she put her hands on the stall's wall, arching her back as she bent forward in a leisure motion, for him to properly understand what was going on and not freak out, and for her to get the motivation she needed. "That's awkward… But I kinda want to go back at it. What about you?" Grinding her hips against his, she turned her head to the side, watching from the corner of her eyes how he would react. And she felt yet another wave of arousal weakening her legs at the way he had moved a hand to carefully cradle her hips, a fond look overcoming his flushed face, before reciprocating her actions. It took any words away from her as she let her head roll back in front of her.

The grinding! The way she felt every bit of him, scorching hot and so defined, rubbing against her clit, the pure euphoria coursing through her body, the shrouded thrill of being heard, or worst even, caught red-handed by one of the student who would have decided that today was the day to jump over the stalls to peek and possibly mock someone over their dick size. Did he also feel it? Was he just as lost down all the pleasure building up in their cramped stall? When he tentatively pressed his tip against her entrance, still open and wet from their previous round not much earlier, was he anticipating the upcoming gratification just like her, waiting with so much eagerness that she felt her body shuddering? Whether he felt it or not didn't matter as soon as he pushed his dick inside her.

She bit her bottom lips hard, her throat hurting as she kept all the sounds in, and he finally slid inside her with one swift movement. She shut her eyes closed, her head falling forward as he drilled inside her cunt with a concentrated look overtaking his features. This view was better than the one before, seeing his shaft disappearing before his very eyes as her ass bounced against his lower stomach, even the arch of her back was teasing him, and he would have never thought that looking at someone from behind could be so fucking hot. He pressed a hand along her spine, caressing the skin still wet from the water gushing out of the shower head, and he could swear it made her clench around him for a moment there, which encouraged him to shift the angle to reach deeper inside her. And against his better judgment, a stupid idea came to his mind when he felt her walls even tighter around him.

Despite how hard she was trying, a whine left her when she felt his hands moving to hers and wrapping her fingers with his in such a delicate motion… She knew it, even if her mind felt muddy with how he was assaulting every last bit of her sanity each time he dived deeper, that it was a romantic gesture, something that didn't fit them as she didn't have any feelings for him, and she knew that he didn't sport any for her either. But unbeknownst to her, a dark curtain covered his face as his very presence loomed over her most humble one. His imagination was running through every possible scenario, slowly moving from most childish innocent ones to darker and unfit for him at first glance. What if he knocked her up right now? It would just be an accident… He could try and convince her to keep it so they could have a family together… Who would've known that his very first week at the school of his dream, the gathering of every villain, the Night Raven College, would be this rich in terms of new emotions.

But he quickly shook the idea away when he felt her walls fluttering around him, a hiss being taken out of him, but one that was covered up by the sound of the water cooling down both of their bodies. With much more force, he drilled inside her, the tip of his cock ruthlessly finding its way back to that one spongy spot that he was bullying so shamelessly in hopes of making her contract her muscles around him. He had already grown fond of this feeling, and he knew how to force her body to reproduce the action over and over, his greedy needs forcing her to bend to his wishes. The haze in her mind just made her go along with him, choking when he would aim higher, crying when he would thrusts harder, drooling when his fingers would torment her clit. But all too soon for his liking, he felt the tell-tale signs of his climax coming, his thighs rigid as warmth spread to his balls which clenched painfully. So with one last thrust, burying himself as deep as he could, he finally came, painting her walls white for the second time.

She shuddered, cuming not long after and feeling impossibly weak, forcing Deuce to maintain her body up to avoid any possible accident as she had started to tilt sideways. His cock was still inside her which almost made him follow her suit down their fall, but thankfully he put a hand on the wall before anything could happen, trying hard not to think about the clenching around it. The two stayed under the shower head, water still warm as it fell on their skin, but all too soon someone slammed their hand against the door, making the two of them jump out of surprise. "Yo dude! Whoever's in there, move already! The water's been running for fucking ages man!" The voice was rough, thankfully not owned by anyone she had met yet, and Deuce made sure to shout back that he would be fast. He removed himself from her, the fluids on his limp member were quickly washed off by the warm water, and worked on cleaning her right after. It was clumsy, fitting a nervous person like him, trying to scout anything he could out of her but refusing to touch her too much in fear of reigniting the heat inside him. So out of compassion for him who was struggling, she pushed him back, whispering into his ear that she would take care of herself and that he should wash himself. He nodded quietly and got to work. In less than five minutes the two of them had washed, dressed up, and were now peaking through the door to exit the communal bathroom without being seen.

Thankfully, the stalls were all being used, covering the sound the two made as they tried to escape the situation they were in, and no-one was in sight which prompted Deuce to leave first to scout the surroundings and make sure that she could follow. He made her a hand sign, prompting her to come, and not before long, the two of them left the bathroom with a fast pace, almost running to his room which made passers-by wonder just what in the world they were doing. And thankfully they didn't cross paths with Riddle who would've definitely questioned them about their whereabouts.

What was unexpected though, was for Ace to be waiting for the two of them, sitting on his bed with a pissed look. She didn't know what he wanted to talk about before, but now she had some kind of idea. How would she not… when the used condom Deuce had supposedly thrown inside the trash bin that just happened to be on the floor next to the basket, open and its content dripping out. By the look on Ace's she knew one thing for sure;

She was in for a shit show.

[camaelczarka]

So, I think we all know that there’s going to be quite a bit more to the 2x07 trial and the 2x08 tower scene when Lestat tells the story. If you’ve read the Vampire Lestat, you already know what I mean; TVL is almost a wrapper for IWTV, and provides much of the context around Claudia’s death. I’m definitely going to spoil some events in that book in this post so watch out. Under the cut for spoilers.

The bulk of TVL describes Lestat’s mortal life, his relationship with Nicolas de Lenfent, his non-consensual turning into a vampire by Magnus who then shortly after jumps into a fire, his meeting Armand, his forming of the Theatre des Vampires, and Nicki’s eventual death by suicide that Armand greatly facilitated. There’s a lot more to it but basically it’s the backstory for why everything that happens to Claudia and Louis in Paris goes as horribly as it does.

Near the end of the book, Lestat revisits the trial. It picks up with him being extremely weak and sick for years after his ‘death’ at the hands of (mostly) Claudia. He doesn’t condemn her for it, or seek revenge, and says he understands why she did what she did. But being alone and having no one to turn to, he eventually decides to ask Armand for some of his blood so that he can recover, having no idea that Louis and Claudia are already in Paris. Still in his weakened state, Armand takes advantage of him to get information about Louis and Claudia and how they tried to kill him. Armand is reading his mind but it’s unclear how much info he gets there. Then, he traps Lestat under the theater and starves him until he’s forced to drink dead blood. He’s extremely disoriented and sick and is dressed up to look good and brought out to testify against Claudia. Then he’s taken away to Magnus’ tower (he also has the yellow dress here) and Armand flips out on him for breaking up his former coven and starting the theater, tells him Louis is also dead (a lie obviously), and pushes him out of the tower.

The key difference between the show trial and the book trial is the fact that the show makes the trial into a play with rehearsals that Lestat is (apparently) present for. So my question, knowing the book canon, is why would Lestat participate willingly, or did he even willingly participate?

Going on the book canon, it might simply be that Lestat is super fucked up in this moment, that Armand is controlling his every action except for the few times where he manages to break out of it and go off script. And I do think that’s possible if he’s weak enough- Armand is very powerful in that way, and Lestat might be unable to fend him off. I think this is possible- Armand explicitly states in the book that he wants Lestat to look presentable, and maybe that was enough to fool Louis.

But I actually think the show might have added another even more nefarious layer to this already fucked up event- I think that Armand has made some sort of fucked up deal with Lestat for Louis’ life. Because otherwise, none of this makes sense.

Why does there need to be a trial play with a human jury? Legitimately, there doesn’t. There’s no good reason for it- the coven was going to judge them as guilty no matter what, and the audience is going along with the play because they think it’s a show. Armand and the coven will have Claudia dead one way or another, they really don’t need a bunch of mortals to weigh in on it. So who was Armand trying to convince? The only answer is Louis.

Armand may have written into the script that Louis was supposed to die with Claudia, but I think he made a deal behind the backs of the coven with Lestat. That deal was maybe something like- “I let you get him banished, then I will take him out of the wall. Say nothing about your involvement or he dies.” Lestat is made to give up personal details of their lives together, seemingly freely. Why would be do this? Why would he willingly put himself in the position of the bad guy to Louis here? Even Louis wonders this in the interview. And there are even a bunch of moments where Lestat stalls in the middle of talking- and I think he’s fighting with Armand telepathically, or being reminded of the terms of this agreement. Louis and Claudia wouldn’t be able to tell what was happening, but Madeline would, so they keep her hypnotized until later.

Because, the coven DIDN’T spare Louis. Lestat getting him ‘banished’ didn’t spare his life at all, he was just dying slowly. Because again, the coven didn’t actually care about the audience jury, they just took him offstage for the main event. He was 100% still going to die. But Lestat DID still save him- by agreeing to let him go with Armand.

Lestat doesn’t answer when Louis accuses him of getting revenge during the trial. Lestat doesn’t provide any explanation in the tower in the next episode for why he participated. He allows Louis to hold him responsible for his participation and how it resulted in Claudia’s death. I feel like Lestat CAN’T dispute it, as per the terms of whatever arrangement he and Armand had. Armand takes Louis out of the wall, and the price of Lestat saving him from that is letting Louis decide to leave him. He can’t say anything otherwise, and he truly doesn’t think he deserves to anyway.

This also could explain why Lestat participated to begin with. He actually IS really weak and fucked up, so he couldn’t do much to save Claudia or anything really past getting Louis put into that coffin. Armand puts him into the impossible position of relying on him to get Louis out while also trusting that Armand can handle his suicidal husband, knowing that Armand is responsible for Claudia AND Nicki’s deaths already. This is why he is terrified that Louis is dead in 1973, because Armand has a track record and he knows that Louis has been suicidal before. But what other option does he have? Giving Louis up is the only way to save him.

This achieves 3 goals for Armand. He get Louis and finally (he hopes) severs Louis’ ever present love for Lestat. He gets rid of the coven, or at least gets out of it. And, perhaps most importantly, he injures Lestat in a way that he will truly never recover from. Nicki is dead, Claudia is dead, Louis hates him.

I think this is partially why Armand is so gleeful when he tells Daniel how long he and Louis have been together versus Louis and Lestat. His ultimate goal is to punish and hurt Lestat. Kill his daughter, make him watch, make him responsible. Make Louis hate him. Make Louis stay with him ‘forever’ of his own free will.

It also recontextualizes the line in the last episode where Lestat explains to Louis that he “gave him to Armand” and questions whether or not that was actually saving him. Which implies there was a goal beyond simply getting him offstage, and I think means more than just exchanging a boyfriend between the two of them. Louis had already left Lestat at the point, and while maybe they would have gotten back together already without Armand’s involvement, Louis wasn’t really ‘his’ to give. I think it means something more along the lines of he LITERALLY gave his bodily safety to Armand, knowing how much he couldn’t trust him. But, he had no other choice, because Armand left him with none. Let me have him or he dies.

I do actually wonder if Lestat was still imprisoned and starved by Armand, and I think there’s a high likelihood of that. I do think Lestat would have to be in a weakened state to agree to any of this. But it does add another psychological element to the original story that also explains some of the weirdness in Armand’s version of events. This is the part of the story that Daniel can’t totally decode, because only Lestat knows exactly what happened besides him. And Lestat may still assume that Louis has ‘figured it out’ in the present day, because all Louis says is that he knows Lestat ‘saved’ him. Lestat still is going to clarify events going forward, and the trial is a big reason WHY he he writes TVL, because he wants Louis to understand what happened there.

[ofmermaidstories]

You are five when your Quirk manifests for the first time, with Rinchan.

‼️📍 content warnings: implied major character death, death in general, in a myriad of ways (falling, head trauma, old age, drowning, suicide), im a little graphic for emphasis, grief and mourning. there’s also some light smut and implied underage sex.

Rinchan. Rinchan who watches you while your mother goes to work. Rinchan with her big, soft, crepe-paper arms; who holds you in them for as long as you want, singing you songs as she shells peas into a metal bowl—you clinging to her, placid as a koala, your legs dangling over her lap. Rinchan who is probably your most favourite person in the entire world—the entire world being your neighbourhood and your school and the nearby park, overgrown, and the overwhelming shopping centre a car ride away.

Rinchan. Rinchan. Rinchan who, when you are five, starts appearing before you naked and wet, her face covered in blood.

The first time it happens she’s still alive; the sizzle of her cooking coming from the kitchen just behind you as you sit on the floor with a pile of milk-chews in front of you, staring in frozen horror at this other her—shining with water, her mouth stretched open in a startled O, everything about her soft and sagging.

You make a tiny noise—fear, caught in your throat, a baby mouse curled up—and then Rinchan, your Rinchan, Rinchan alive and warm and dry, calls out, “Are you okay, Baby?”

The Other Rinchan’s mouth stretches open further, like it recognises her—like it’s trying to say something back and you—

You wail in answer, scrabbling at Rinchan (living, alive) when she flys in, concerned, asking, “What? What? What is it? What’s wrong?” her soft crepe-paper arms around you tight as you sob into her neck.

She’s bewildered and a little frightened herself; but she hums as she rocks you, a warm hand stroking your back, soothing you both until your sobs are little more than wet snuffling, your hand curling into the fabric of her dress.

You loved her. You love her, still, after all this time. But that love doesn’t save either of you, and you are haunted by the other Rinchan for the rest of that awful summer: in the park, with your friends, Rinchan watching, mouth agape, from the bushes. Walking home, hand-in-hand with your mother, Rinchan behind you. Alone in your bedroom, at night, Rinchan standing over you as you watch the water drip down her skin. You start wetting yourself with the fear, whenever it happens—a response that quickly loses you those parkside friends and worries your mother and living Rinchan sick, the pair of them whispering about you when they think you can’t hear, their fear—your fear—condemning you to pull-ups, like a giant baby.

It doesn’t stop the end from coming.

Rin dies just before Halloween, when the shops are filled with green-faced witches and plastic skeletons that rattle and can’t frighten you, anymore. She dies alone, at night. A fall in the shower, your mother tells you in a whisper a couple of days later, red-eyed. You knew enough by then to be able to picture it: Rin, shining with water, her mouth stretched open in a startled O—her face covered in blood.

Your mother holds your hand at her funeral, too tight, and you cling back and say nothing.

The other Rinchan never comes back. Rin never comes back—cannot come back, no matter how much you love her.

Others do, though.

It’s a parade of the dead, shuffling forward to a dirge only you can hear. You learn, over time, that it’s specific to people you either know or will come to know—people you have some kind of tie to, some bond, good or bad. When you are fifteen it’s your homeroom teacher Miss Aoki: her head and shoulder caved in, her right eye bulging out at you, unseeing. You’d been drinking a bottle of milk-tea when she arrived, the blood stark and jewel-like in the daylight. You do not touch milk-tea for ages, afterwards.

You no longer wet yourself in fear, but you cannot look your teacher in the eye for weeks—it ruins everything. You stop pausing after homeroom to talk to her, stop sharing the music that brought you together, unable to face her, unable to face the bemusement and then the tiny flashes of hurt.

You cannot warn her. What would you warn her about? The trauma to her head could’ve been a fall, or some kind of rock—an accident or murder. And even if you knew, even if you could pinpoint it, she would not believe you. You know that because you had tried, with the ghost after Rinchan—with Yochan. Yochan, a boy from your neighbourhood and once, once before your Quirk had come, a boy you had followed around like a guiding star. You and all the other kids, faithful to him above all. But when your Quirk came and you got weird, he got mean.

“You’re a stupid piss-baby!” He’d shout at you, cackling. The other kids hung back, unsure of how to treat you—and this was how you saw him, the other him, standing behind the others with a swollen, awful face, his Endeavour shirt stained with a creamsicle, his eyes disappeared under the red, weeping slits of an allergic reaction.

You tried. You tried.

“Yochan,” you’d whisper, “please—”

His face would twist in disgust though, any time you came near him. “Freak!” he’d hiss. “Piss-baby! Get lost!”

He’d run away, then, laughing to himself and telling everyone that you had threatened him (“Piss Baby wants me dead!”)—and you had shut into yourself more, haunted by the agonised version of him that only you could see, that would stand there in your bedroom and twitch, the last throes of death.

It came for him, eventually. More than half a year later, during a game of softball where he’d knocked over a wasp nest and stomped over to it, the others too scared.

(The teacher explains it in class the following week and you sit there, in your seat by the window, untouched by the light. Empty.

Miss Aoki dies during the war, caught in the shadow of a collapsing building. You go to her service without your mother to hold your hand, and pray for forgiveness.)

You can map your life by the bodies that follow you. A year after after Miss Aoki it’s Hiroe: the tiny, fierce old woman down the street who grumbles at you every morning. When her doppleganger appears across the street from the pair of you, thin and wan and gasping as the hospital gown slips off her shoulders, the living her angrily talking about her carnations, the only thing you feel is relief. She’ll be in hospital—someone will be with her. It won’t be alone in a shower, or sprawled out on her kitchen floor, blood pooling under her. It’ll be death, still, leeching the life out of a woman who pertly tells you that the colour of your coat doesn’t suit you, but it’ll better than some of the lonely things you’ve seen, you live with.

(But it’s not better at all. Hiroe’s son works too hard, his hours too long in the aftermath of the war, helping the restoration. You visit her after school, bright flowers in hand and some of the colour returns to her face as she complains that you’re already dressing her altar, but her son is never there—and she dies alone, during the night, gasping for breath.)

You’re cursed, you think; cursed to see death everywhere you go, in everyone you know. And then you meet Kouki and realise that your curse smears over your future, too.

Kouki. Kouki with his brilliant red hair, like autumn leaves in the sunlight. Kouki who laughed easily, who would evenutally come to keep his pocket full of those old-fashioned milk-chews, just for you. Kouki, who, before you meet him alive, you meet dead—floating mid-air before you during your walk home one night, his hair dancing around his face, his eyes unseeing as his mouth opens and closes, gulping for air that isn’t there.

You are seventeen by this stage. It had been a hard couple of years with Miss Aoki, with the war, with Hiroe. Kouki appears before you under a streetlamp and you drop your schoolbag, your throat siezing.

“Don’t,” you say to this corpse of a boy you haven’t met, yet. “Don’t—don’t you dare do this to me.”

He opens his mouth; a tiny silver fish darts out and you burst into tears, overwhelmed, your new ghost lingering with you as you sob on the street, alone in the night. You don’t even know him. You don’t even know him.

He transfers to your senior class at the end of the month.

By then you had gotten used to the vision of him, numbly, the drowned boy following you around like a harmless stray—keeping you company on your walks home from your part-time job. You had sat with him as he floated, you solidly on the ledge of a park, unwrapping milk-chews and staring out at the dark before you, undaunted and unafraid, the most haunted thing there as his tiny fish flittered about him, again and again, on loop.

And then he walks into class that first day, and you are—you are frozen, even as he grins at you, bright and undaunted and alive.

“Hey,” he says after class, too interested and too friendly. “You look a little frightened—you good?”

Considering you had woken up that morning to his vestige floating at the foot of your bed, you most certainly were not good. What you say instead though is a curt, “I’m fine,” which proves to be mistake.

His eyes—big and blue—brighten at the challenge, and he grins.

“Fujita Kouki,” he introduces himself. “What’s your name?”

In the daylight, the light of the living where he can soak in the sun and return it, Kouki’s—Fujita’s—eyes are warm, not the milky colour you’ve been haunted with. You should walk away, you think desperately, wavering; you should retreat immediately. But the daylight is seductive. You are seventeen and it has a been a hard year and you are tired of being afraid.

Your lips part, even as you hesitate. But when you give him your name, his smile widens, and it almost—almost—chases the ghosts away.

Kouki quickly becomes your best friend.

Best friend is not the right term; it’s not fair to him and what you know about him. It doesn’t capture the horror of seeing him walk into your classroom that first day, nor the fear that follows you when he’s late to meeting up, or stays home from school because of a cold, because he’s bored. But—

He’s easy going. Refreshing, like cold, sparkling lemonade in the hot sun. He’s friendly and quickly becomes popular with so many of the others in your class and he wants to—he wants to hang out with you, walk you home. With Kouki you’re not the Silent Weirdo that never interacts with anyone. With Kouki you laugh—all the time, like all he wants to do is make you happy. He fills his pockets with those milk-chews and walks with you in the evenings, pushing his bike alongside you, telling you about the way his little brother terrorises his parents and how his father has been wanting to go on a vacation for years, now—and you let him. You let him become apart of your life, you let him walk you home. You let him sink into everything you know, into your pores, the fabric of who you are. He’s the good morning lets gooo texts before you meet up for school. He’s the warmth against you as you sit side-by-side on your park ledge, no longer the most haunted thing in the dark but what you should have always been: just a kid, sitting with a friend. Being with Kouki is easy, too easy. You no longer see the ghost of him—suspended in midair, his silver fish. You just see him, have him—Kouki, alive, chuckling to himself as he hands you another milk-chew.

“My dad’s finally free,” he tells you one night. You’re sitting on your ledge, mouth full of the creamy chews—Kouki (living) before you, lingering close.

“Mmph?” You question, unable to quite pry your jaw open enough for real words.

Kouki laughs like you had said something funny, and despite yourself your stomach flips, pleased to hear it. He’d been subdued; unusually quiet, had been since lunch that day, when Keichan had confessed her feelings to him in front of everyone. Keichan was pretty, effervescent—she laughed like he did, easily and among others who sparkled with her attention. On paper they were a perfect match and you almost wanted it—you wanted Kouki to be happy, however it happened. For as long as he could be.

But he had said no. You, sitting on the edges of the yard and picking at the grass, had been unable to help but watch in the same horrified, fascinated fear as everyone else, all of you silent. Keichan’s pretty face—shocked. Kouki’s red hair shinning brilliantly like fire, as he shook his head.

“Sorry,” he’d said, not sounding the least bit contrite. “I just—I don’t want that.”

In the evening gloom, he nudges your knee.

“The old man’s finally got that time off he wanted,” Kouki explains. You nod, swallowing your chews and trying to ignore how he moves forward—bracketing you, where you sit. “He wants to go fishing.”

“Oh,” you say, a little uselessly. Kouki’s hands are either side of you, distracting—the space between you warm, as he dips his head in closer.

You still. He’s always crowded your space but tonight in the silver light his face—normally so open, light—is afraid.

“You never tell me what you’re thinking,” he says, low, and you shake your head, emptied of words. It wasn’t true—you told him about the books you read, the songs you heard. The way you liked cupping sunlight in your hands because it made them glow, made you feel like you had a different Quirk entirely. You had never told anyone else that.

Kouki’s eyebrows tighten; pull. Frustrated, maybe, even as his hand balls itself into your skirt.

It pulls you closer to him, just a little. Your hand comes up between you—your fingers tracing the fold of his jacket pocket.

“You smell like those milkchews,” he whispers, and your heart is in your throat even as your lips part, his parting in echo as he watches them—

—and you don’t know who pulls who in first but then you are kissing, a hand cupping your face, anchoring you to the moment, to him as your fist tightens into his jacket. You sigh into the cool of his mouth and can almost taste the way he smiles before he presses in harder, hungry.

He pulls away after a moment; only to press more kisses, soft and careful, against your mouth, your nose, your cheek, laughing when you make a tiny, annoyed noise.

“You’re dumb,” he tells you, low, pressing another kiss against your hair, and then another. “And I’m gonna take you out and watch you eat those dumb sweets and make you tell me everything you’re thinking, forever. Until you’re sick of me.”

Your heart lurches. Forever.

“I could never be sick of you,” you tell him, the ache reopening inside of you.

Kouki grins, pleased and so, so alive; his brilliance softening to a glow as he dips his face close again, tracing your nose with his.

“I mean it,” he says, quiet. Promising. “You’re gonna have to chase me off.”

You try to stay in the warmth of him, the light and life, clutching at him, letting him kiss you again, soft.

But there’s a sob in your throat. And when you open your eyes, breathing in as Kouki kisses your jaw, your neck, his spectre is there—mouth gaping open, as a tiny, silver fish darts out.

(You beg him not to go, when his father announces the boat he’s rented, for his fishing trip. The man’s never been out on one before. Kouki has never seen your desperation, your fear, not like this and he almost stays, brows furrowed—but his little brother is excited. His father too. He buys all three of them matching fishing hats.

“It’s okay,” he whispers against the back of your neck, when you’re curled up together in your tiny, childhood bed. The house is quiet; you have it to yourselves, the sunlight dappling in your room, filtered through the tree outside. “I’m a good swimmer. Don’t worry.”

He presses a kiss against your shoulder, his fingers slow, tracing figures in the wet touch of your underwear. You breathe him in and to reassure yourself he’s right, that he will be okay, that you will always have this.

He’s gone by the following week. A storm. Kouki was right—he was a good swimmer. But his little brother wasn’t, and the love that made him go in the first place was the same love that made him search for him, endlessly, after their boat was capsized.

You go to the joint service. Kouki, his father, his little brother. His mother is held together by an older woman, desolate. In a row in front Keichan cries silent tears but you—

You stand there and you stare at Kouki’s portrait, his smiling face. He will never again soak in the sunlight and reflect it He will never again wait for you, his pockets filled with your favourite sweets. He will never again kiss you, with the cool press of his lips, the taste of his laugh behind them.

Fujita Kouki is gone. He is gone, slipping away—taking the you who believed in hope and a future where you could be happy with him.)

The years slip away. One, then two, then three and then four and then five. You move to a bigger city; and then you move again. You work in offices, department stores, a warehouse once, washing carrots—anything that will pay you, pay the bills. You keep to yourself and your coworkers lose interest in trying to keep up small talk with you and you don’t form any kind of tie, good or bad, that could manifest before you, rattling in death.

Kouki would never forgive you for this bleak existence, you think, if he could see it. But wherever he is it’s not with you, not on this plane, and so you keep your head down and when one of your ghosts does come to you, you grit your teeth and ignore it.

Even in isolation, they find a way to haunt you. You start seeing the clerk from the 7/11 you stop in to and from work, his neck snapped, and you avoid the store for three weeks before telling yourself it was stupid of you, that maybe you could say something—only to find someone else there, when you walk in, the guy already replaced.

The new hire at the office you work at starts appearing before you, swinging, his throat and face mottled as hands claw at a rope that’s not there and you—you thank him when he brings you a coffee, and try to be a little kinder, try to watch as he blends in with the others, laughs among them, the crack underneath his smile not showing.

He bungles a client, six months into working there. Your boss chews him out in front of everyone, the guy taking it with a silent, shame-faced nod, and when you try to say, “You worked hard, mistakes can happen to anyone—” he only bows hurriedly, already backing away.

(he doesn’t come back, and two weeks later his desk is cleared.)

Head down, keep to yourself. Another year passes. And then another. And then your curse rears its ugly head one final, terrible time.

You are waiting for the lights to change in the middle of a busy street, on a cold, bright afternoon, when you first see him.

You’re not paying attention; staring into the crowd on the other side of the street, thinking about what you had in the fridge at home and then he’s there, in your line of sight, his face twisting in fury, in grief, as he reaches out, shouting something—

And then there’s a flash of light, blinding and sharp and he is gone, startling you even as the crosswalk starts to sing, people moving around you like water around a stone as your heart races.

No, you think weakly. No. Not again.

He doesn’t return and you stand there, in the same spot, even as the crosswalk blinks back to red.

All your life, your Quirk has worked one way: showing you the death of someone you already knew, for better or for worse. Not someone famous, not a stranger. Kouki had been an—anomaly, you thought, desperate. Some freak tie. Japan had gone through so much in those years during and after the war: reports of abnormal adolescent Quirk growth had spiked, at its worse. You had always thought that maybe yours had been apart of that, that that’s what Kouki’s ghost had been. A result of stress, or your loneliness. Something, anything. And you’d only grown more sure of it when it didn’t repeat—

Until now.

You get home that night and in a fit of anger tear through everything, up end it all. Your clothes, out from the wardrobe or the basket, strewn along the floor. Your pots, clattering thunderously throughout your kitchen. You scream, pitching book after book across the room at your couch, the covers bending, pages tearing. You wouldn’t go through it again, you wouldn’t—

You curl up against your kitchen island, sobbing. You wouldn’t. You wouldn’t. You wouldn’t do this. Not again. Not ever again.

(But your heart’s already sinking. Already tender with the hurt, remembered and preemptive. His hair had been golden in the light—like winter sun.

When your hiccups calm, you look up—and he is standing over you, his face twisting again. You shut your eyes but the flash is bright, even then. Nuclear.

When you open them, he’s gone.

“Please,” you whisper to your empty apartment. “Please don’t do this to me.”

But it’s only the silence that answers you, the absence of mercy or comfort and you shudder, your tears nothing but salt in your mouth.)

Your plan, eventually, is simple: just ignore your newest ghost, when you finally meet him.

It should be easy. Even though he was a Pro-Hero he was also a famous one—and how often did you run into famous Pro-Heroes? They always had something to defend, always had someone to save. You just had to keep living your life, squarely and safe and you would be fine. You would skirt past each other and he would live or die just however a Pro Hero should.

A month passes. And then another. You begin to think maybe you’re safe; and then you’re not.

“If everyone can line up, then that’ll make everything go smoother,” your boss calls out, echoed throughout the office. Below on the street is the firetruck—overseeing the drill. You peer over the ledge of the window in worry, trying to count the firefighters out: seven that you could see. If you saw anymore than that while out on the street you were just going to close your eyes and wait it out.

Your boss calls your name—and when you glance to him, startled, he gestures with his megaphone, sheepish.

“Can you run and grab my laptop case for me?” he asks, already half out the door. “You’re closer, and I have a feeling we’ll be down there for a while.”

“Yeah,” you say, already standing. You leave your own things at your desk—as you’re meant to—and dart to his office, partitioned by glass. When you turn around, the case in hand, the office is empty—your boss’s megaphone calling out down the hall, down the stairway, leaving you alone in the wake of it.

You go to the window again, to count the firefighters. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven—

You freeze. There’s an eighth figure there, standing solidly with them, talking, his arms crossed. A Pro Hero—dressed in black, with bright orange details.

Your ghost, you think in alarm.

He looks up at the window and you jerk away, startled. He shouldn’t be able to see—the glass was tinted—but his face is suspicious and you clutch your boss’s case to you tighter, heart thumping.

Don’t give him a reason to single you out, you think desperately—you hurry to join the others but they have left you on an empty floor, already making their way down the three flights quickly, leaving you and your noisy footfall as you race down the emergency stairs—only to have the door to the lobby thrown open roughly before you could even reach it.

It bangs against the wall; leaving you to stare in silence as he fills the doorway fully, glowering, stopping you in your tracks.

“The hell?” He asks you, roughly. Under his mask his eyes flicker over you, over the case in your hands, unimpressed. “Why didn’t you evacuate with the others?”

You can only shake your head, tucking your hands around the case tighter. Even having his spectre repeat and repeat in front of you—it doesn’t compare to the space and heat of him in the flesh, taking up a doorway. He’s more solid now, more real and when he shifts, just a fraction, you step back in fright.

Something his eyes—ink red under his mask—don’t miss, narrowing.

“I’m sorry,” you say, and mercifully your voice is calm. “I had to grab something.”

“You ain’t meant to take anything,” he points out, barely civil, and you duck your head into a nod—his jaw tightening in response.

You’d rather this, you think, wincing. The brittle patience, barely hiding his rippling irritation. Anything was better than the despair that’d been playing over and over in front of you.

Pro Hero Dynamight—Great Explosion Murder God: Dynamight—scowls at you, jerking behind him. “The extra with the megaphone is doin’ roll call.”

He means your boss. You look at him, curious, and his mouth tightens. It doesn’t thin the curve of his lips, though, and when you realise you’ve noticed that—

You hold your boss’s laptop closer. “Okay,” you say, meaninglessly.

Dynamight only moves out of the way when you go to squeeze past him, your jacket catching against his suit as he grunts.

“Wait,” he commands, annoyed. You stare ahead and will everything within your mind to empty as he pulls you free from the catch of one of his grenades—you mutter a thank-you and don’t look back as you hurry to the glass doors, the light, the open outside away from him and the heat of his space.

(You hide behind your coworkers as your boss commends everyone for their examplumery speed and when one of the firefighters steps forward to walk everyone through the basic dangers of an office building fire it’s Great Explosion Murder God: Dynamight who stands behind him, solid and real and flinty eyed, as he stares everyone down. Someone in front of you giggles; he glares at her until she stops, bowing her head in shame and letting him look directly at—

You. Standing at the back.

His mask moves; his eyebrow raised. You lift yours in a helpless, silent, question. He frowns, like you’re speaking two different languages and morosely you think to yourself, so much for not giving him a reason to single you out.)

It’s just one off-chance meeting, you tell yourself. Just a weird little moment to establish something there, and make you feel a little guilty when you hear about his death on the news.

Only—

Only it keeps happening.

Perhaps it’s your karma, for never saying anything to the ghosts that had followed you. Or maybe it’s one last laugh from Kouki, his evil delight in teasing you manifested. Maybe it’s just plain old bad luck—but whatever it was, it meant you kept running into Great Explosion Murder God: Dynamight over and over again, humiliation on repeat.

He’s—there, in his Pro-Hero gear, at the konbini you get your morning coffee, scowling as the cashier stammers through the burglary you’d only just missed. He’s—crouching amid a group of excitable kids, his grin for them sudden and sharp and bright, distracting even in the middle of a busy street. He’s—walking past you as you startle, safely tucked away into a coffee shop as he patrols past, barely sparing the café window a glance.

He is everywhere, everywhere, everywhere. And in turn his ghost is too: the blinding flash in your mirror, as you try to brush your teeth, squinting. The nuclear eruption that startles you awake, in the darkness of your room. The silent twist of his face as he reaches out to you, over your counter as you eat your cereal.

It’s worse than it was with Kouki, you think bitterly. When Kouki the living appeared in your life, Kouki the ghost receded. Now you were just being haunted on both ends, both versions just as fleeting as the other.

Your only consolation is that you are, truly, a nobody to him. Just another face amid a city full of them. For all the tiny run-ins, the awful timing, you manage to wriggle away quickly, without attention—or so you’d thought.

You’re walking home under the city dusk: a universe of lights below you as you trek up the winding path that leads home. Work had been awful. You’d seen your vision of Dynamight no less than three seperate times that day, the furious twist of his face, his silent shouting—his disappearing. He was taking you with him, you thought in despair. No other ghost of yours had been so persistent. Distracted, you’d bought a supermarket bento for dinner—some nectarines, for dessert. As you walked the bag swung low and slow, too flimsy; when it splits everything in it splatters, and tumbles.

You swear, skidding as you try to chase the fruit, rolling away as they gain speed—

Stopped by a black boot, it’s orange detailing almost glowing as it scuffs along the ground, blocking them.

Everything within you settles; flattens as you straighten.

Under his mask, Dynamight arches in an eyebrow.

“You good?” He asks.

You shrug, and hold up the remnants of your plastic bag—drifting like a bride’s veil, between you.

The Pro-Hero tsks, crouching, picking up your nectarines. “Weak crap.”

In the twilight the black of his uniform makes him a dark void—until he stands again, holding out your fruit to you. You frown, and watch him mirror it, his wide mouth turning down, unhappily.

“You afraid of me, or somethin’?” He asks, rough. His face is pinched—it makes him look like a little kid, trying to tough out a pout and your stomach squeezes with the guilt. The last anyone would see of him would be a flash of light—and then Japan’s dynamite, Japan’s explosive anger, would be gone forever.

And here you were—making him feel bad in what could, quite possibly, be his last days.

“No,” you admit, opening your handbag to take back the nectarines. “I’m not afraid of you.”

He squints at you, disbelieving.

“Yeah?” He asks. “Then why do you keep runnin’ away like you’ve shit yourself?”

Oh, you think, he’s disgusting.

“I do not,” you say instead, crossly, dropping to the ground grab the remains of your bento.

Dynamight grunts in dismissal. “Yeah you do. Every time I’m walkin’ down a street, or I have to drop into some shitty little place—you’re there, turning tail. If you ain’t on laxatives and you ain’t afraid, then what is it?”

“I’m prejudiced against all Pro-Heroes,” you tell him, stoutly. “And you keep foiling my plans for world domination. Why do you notice, anyway? Why are you here?”

His boots scrape against the path, suddenly loud between you, as he moves in closer.

“‘M on patrol,” he tells you. “It’s my job on patrol to notice weirdoes—and you’ve been the weirdest.”

“Congratulations!” you tell him sourly, skittering around the solid wall of his presence to a nearby trash can. It’s already overflowing, but you squeeze your own rubbish in and turn back to the Pro, as much apart of the world around you as the dark undergrowth of the pathway, or the city lights behind him.

He’s so real, you think angrily. And in days, weeks—maybe months, if he was lucky—he’d be gone, just like that.

“Now what?” You ask him, ask yourself. “What happens now?”

Below, a train screeches past. Great Explosion Murder God: Dynamight shrugs, indifferent.

“Depends,” he says. “You gonna keep being weird?”

You almost laugh. You don’t, though, holding your handbag with your nectarines closer. You are standing in the last, dark moments of a twilight world with a man who will die, God knew when—weird was probably the least you could be.

“Maybe,” you say instead. “I haven’t decided yet.”

The Pro-Hero shrugs again. “Then I do my job, and keep an eye on ya.”

He’s not looking at you when he says it, shifting awkwardly like a school boy and you—

You let your shoulders sag. You are an adult, no longer seventeen—but has been a hard life, and you are tired. Tired of being afraid. Of always being at the edges of your own life.

“Okay,” you tell him, tell yourself. Tell your ghosts, wherever they’re gathered. “I surrender.”

Dynamight snorts, kicking out a loose gravel and when he glances back to you his face has softened from its suspicion—waiting, instead.

A new pattern starts.

He walks past the coffee shop when you’re there and squints at you—acknowledgement you return with the ugliest face you can manage, the woman at the table across from you snorting into her mug.

You walk past him one weekend, surrounded by fans, and he looks up and sees you—bright eyes flickering over the fizzing orange juice in your hand, your wide sunhat, not hiding the startled surprise on your face—and grunts at the kids around him, holding up his hand as he tries to squeeze out, to you.

“Your hat makes you look like a frilly grandma,” he complains, loudly, as the fans follow him, encircling you both.

“I like your hat!” One girl says, brightly. She’s wearing a GEMG:D shirt with his scowling face under his title scrawl; you touch the brim of your hat, self-consciously.

“Thanks,” you say, self-conscious. She beams at you, even as Dynamight starts jabbing at you, trying to get you to move.

“I gotta get grandma home,” he tells everyone, as the group groans. “S’gotta have that nanna nap.”

You let him bully you. You let him pick you out, every time you cross paths. You don’t fight it—and when you start seeing him out of his Pro-Hero gear, his weaponry, your heart tightens in on itself in warning.

“You hungry?” He asks you, one evening. You’d been walking together, the pair of you having finished work at the same time; you in your neat, office wear, your leather handbag. Dynamight in sweats, a loose shirt, a dufflebag over his shoulder.

The sky above you is pink, the moon a silver crescent. A manga moon, you think to yourself; overlooking a love story.

“Yeah,” you answer him, eventually. “I’m starving.”

He nods, resolutely not looking at you—though when you glance at him his jaw tightens, head turning away.

“Denimhead introduced me to a place near here,” he says, gruffly. “They’re decent, ain’t wankers. And they’re cheap. Private.”

He should be doing this with anyone else, you thought to yourself, desperately, watching your shoes. Anyone. Someone who wouldn’t be counting down the days, the weeks, the months.

“I’d like that,” you say instead, softer. “I’d like to go.”

He doesn’t risk looking at you but his smooth face reddens, even as he passes a large hand over the back of his neck, like he could rub the colour out.

“Yeah,” he agrees. “Let’s go then.”

It’s a bistro; a tiny pocket of a place only marked by a single, hanging sign of a smiling cow, the sizzle of steak permeating the alleyway. Inside the lights are low—Dynamight stands back to let you sit at the bar first, watching hawkishly, before he follows, the bartender smiling at you both.

“They gotta menu,” he says, nodding to the mirror behind the bar, where a sparse few dishes are written. “Otherwise if ya trust me I can—I can suggest shit.”

His gaze flickers over your face as you watch him in turn. He was so—here. Alive. With every tiny movement—the draw back of his elbow, the flex of his hand—you feel it, too aware.

“I trust you,” you tell him.

He grins—sudden and pointed and startling a smile out of you too, even as you try to bite it back.

(He orders blistered tomatoes, the size of doll heads, dressed in olive oil and a sweet fig vinegar, a soft cheese that bursts over them. There’s toasted baguette—slathered with bone marrow, garlic butter. There’s steak cut like it’s been shared among cavemen, several inches thick and still on the bone, bleeding even as it sizzles. The bartender puts down a little plate of fine, perfectly ruffled pasta in front of you; dressed in pesto, charred greens, tiny flowers and you have to share it with your Pro-Hero, who’s nose wrinkles when you try to offer him a speared garnish.

He is warm and he is close and he smells like the char of a grill and soap and a sweet wood layered over warm skin and neither of you move to touch each other—

But his leg presses against yours, and stays. Your hand slips over his by accident as you move to help yourself to dessert, a soft creamy dish with fruit—and he turns his palm up, catching it. Squeezing your fingers for a brief moment before letting them go, unmooring you only to anchor you again when you walk side-by-side, back to the train station, the warmth of him reassuring, and inescapable.)

Days. Weeks. Months.

You walk together, have dinner sometimes, lunch others. He complains about the other Heroes he works with; you listen, side-eyeing him when he then mentions feeding them, making meals at the agency because everyone was useless—

He doesn’t poke at you to talk, but you start sharing anyway. The book in your handbag; the gossip the others at the office always had.

“Tell ‘em to either deal with it or shut up,” he suggests, and you laugh despite yourself.

Days. Weeks. Months.

He goes away on a mission across the country—after a villain the news was calling Hazard. He’d been responsible for the complete destruction, the levelling, of a factory, a shopping centre, slipping away before anyone could scramble through the rumble and detain him. It rains the entire time Dynamight is gone, leaving you to walk home alone, an umbrella over you, as the news loops over about flood warnings.

(When he comes back it’s an overcast day; finally dry. He’s waiting for you at your usual crossroad, now, and when you see him you smile, his eyes following the curve of it before flickering over you.

“You good?” He asks.

“Better now that you’re back,” you admit, before you can stop yourself.

You were. You had stayed up every night he was gone, on your phone—watching the news, the tags, waiting for his name to appear, footage of the flash that would take him. There’d been nothing; no arrests, no collision.

But your Pro-Hero’s face softens, just slight, and you realise that he’d read something else in it when he says, low, “Yeah. I get it.”

Days, weeks, months. Your heart thumps to it, reminding you and nervously, you shift away.

“Are you hungry?” You ask, wanting to fill the space between you with anything else.

He watches you skitter away, trying to encourage him to move; his eyes ruby.

“Yeah,” he repeats and in relief you turn away, all too aware of his stare, at the back of your head.)

Days. Weeks. When you finally kiss it’s at his table, in his home; empty plates in front of you.

“I think this is the best thing I’ve ever eaten,” you tell him honestly, quietly, the smears of your tiramisu the only remains as you stand, to take your plate to the kitchen.

“You’re always tryna—dart away,” he says suddenly, still sitting.

You startle at the look on his face—serious, soft mouth trying not to pout.

“I just—I just want to help with the dishes,” you say, but his brow furrows, pinched, and when he stands it’s carefully, slow, the coiled draw of a bow that shivers, waiting.

“I can’t get a read on you,” he admits to the quiet, his knuckles against the table. “Can’t—guess at whatever’s goin’ on in that squirrelly head of yours.”

You swallow, and run your hand across your forearm, too aware of the soft edges of your sleeves, of your Pro-Hero following your fingers.

“There’s nothing,” you whisper, and he snorts; boyish, disbelieving. It makes him less of a threat and more of a man—real, living, breathing, with his own thoughts and his own feelings.

“Like hell there is,” he swears, stepping closer. It brings his warmth in; the smell of coffee, of his cologne, aniseed sweet. “Whatever you’ve got spinnin’ around in there keeps you worlds away from this one. And I ain’t—”

He stops himself, his mouth parted around the rest of his words as his eyes flicker over your face, your lips; the way you can’t breathe for his nearness, hesitating in the space between you.

“—I ain’t gonna let you disappear,” he finishes, low. For a moment he traces your nose with his, and when your lashes flutter he sucks his breath in, tight; his mouth on yours, warm and sudden. A press. And then another. And then another and then the kiss is deepening and you tilt your head as hands fist themselves in your hair, keeping you close even as he pulls away, tiny, to pant against your lips. “Hah—”

You kiss him back. You take him back. Your hands are tight in his shirt, too flimsy to hold him and you whine and you can feel him snarl—or smile?—against you, his teeth hard against the corner of your mouth, scraping your jaw as he nips at your neck.

The plates on the table rattle as you both slide to the floor. You gasp as his mouth meets the bare skin of your thigh, then again as his thumbs hook under your underwear, the cool of his floor a shock. He moans, muffled; free of your ass your underwear drapes, wet and warm against you and he mouths at it, a heavy kiss as you gasp again at his tongue through cotton. He kisses deeper—you gasp again, and again, until you’re panting, tiny ah, ah, ahs that have him squeezing your hip, nosing the wet slop of your underwear out of the way so that his mouth meets your skin and you both moan.

(You are unravelled, on the floor—your clothes pooling, your breasts freed, your legs splayed. His hold is firm and warm and you are heavy-eyed, even as you gasp again, under him. You want to drift away—you want to stay, hissing as his blunt nails claw along the meat of your ass.

He lifts himself to meet you for a kiss—his mouth and chin shiny, his eyes glimmering as his shoulders ripple, panther-lithe as he leans over you.

His mouth is warm. You hum into it as he curses, tasting him—coffee, sex, you—as hot hands smooth the small of your back, the slip of him inside of you so, so easy and wet.

Even in the rut, the thrust, you are safe. You arch off of the floor like you’re trying to escape it, escape into the solid wall of him, waiting with another kiss, long and hard as he thrusts in deeper, deeper still.

You curl your legs against him, your heel in his ass. He grunts, then bites at your chin and your laugh is broken off into a moan as he ruts in hard.

Days. Weeks. When you come it’s sudden, starflash hot; you gasp for a final time and your hero is there to nose against your wet skin, to kiss you, his own undoing a groan, a sigh into your mouth.

There are no ghosts, lingering afterwards. Only him, panting; only you, your legs slipping together, your lips parting. Only him, only you.

He presses a kiss against the side of your head, almost forcefully.

“Wasn’t too shit,” he says, gruff, and you laugh around your breathlessness, anchored and alive.)

Days, weeks. Days.

Your Hero asks you stay over; you do, waking up in sheets that smell like him, that smell like sex, like you. You give yourself the moments—let yourself kiss his shoulder in hello, when he’s brushing his teeth. Lean into his touch, when his hand smooths up and down your waist.

“The others wanna meet ya,” he says one night, grumpily. “Said something about a lunch—I told ‘em s’up to you.”

At the counter, you hesitate. Who knew what you’d see, around them, the country’s frontliners. And it would only make this death, the one you were waiting on, worse—

But your Hero is determinedly not looking at you, his face pink, and you realise—he wants it. He wants you to meet them. Them to meet you.

Oh, you think, stricken. This was going to hurt.

“Okay,” you say. “I’d—I’d like that. Let’s do that.”

When he grins it twists his whole face into childlike brightness. You smile back with a wobble, looking at him and only him—ignoring his ghost behind him, shouting at you before the flash.

Days. Day. It’s a bright Saturday and you were meant to be meeting his friends, at last, the city busy as you hurry to the department store. There was a store in the food hall that sold small, perfectly round cream cakes, with glossy coatings and made to look like fruit—you wanted a tray of them, to take.

The sales clerk is handing you the bag, sealed with a ribbon when the shouting starts.

“RUN!” Someone screams, a flash from the back of the store blinding you. It’s the call, the break through the spell. Everyone panics, shouting as people start to bolt for the stairs to the street outside.

You’re almost torn away from the store—the girl serving you yelping as people barrel past, the force of them moving you, too, until the girl shrieks—trapped behind the counter.

“Wait!” You say, but a man almost shoves you aside and you drop your bag, your cakes, pushing against the others that follow him until there’s a gap. The sales clark is wincing, behind her case, but there’s a ominous rattling above you and you scream, “Come on!” at her, your hand held out as everyone on the floor screams.

She sobs as someone smashes into her counter, shoved up by a crowd and you wedge yourself out of the way and scream again, “We have to go! Now!”

You’re almost blind in your panic, wheezing as your elbowed in someone else’s desperation—but then she’s scrambling with the hatch, reaching out to you too and when her hand is in yours you run, following the crowd.

You’re separated in the push—there’s more screams, as more and more flashes fill the room and someone, an older man, almost claws at your face to get in front of you.

Outside there’s a wail of sirens; someone on a megaphone, shouting for surrender.

The explosion is small. It doesn’t feel like it—everyone tumbles to the ground with the shock wave, the smoke quickly filling the space and trying to tunnel out the same way and someone grabs your elbow and tugs, begging you to move—

You follow them. Her, the girl from the cake stand, her face puffy and bruised. The pair of you crawl over people, stand, and when you break out of the glass doors and into the daylight it’s almost a relief—until you see the ring of Pro-Heroes, police officers, all tense.

Your stomach swoops. The Pros, the cops closest to you are ashen-faced—looking beyond you, to whoever is now holding you in place with a calm, heavy hand on your shoulder.

“Just put your hands up,” one of the cops calls out, over the megaphone. “And surrender. There’s no need for hostages.”

Behind you, broken glass shifts. The hand on your shoulder squeezes tighter, a warning, and you stare out at the crowd, trying to empty your mind even as the clerk, still next you, sobs.

Day. Moments.

Beyond the crowd you can hear his sharp voice, his shouting and you squeeze your eyes shut, not wanting to know, not wanting to see—

But everything within you is attuned to him. The world falls away into white noise and all you can hear is your name, being screamed furiously, and you have to look.

You blink away your tears, and he’s there, two other Pros trying to hold him back as he swears, elbowing out at them; his face twisting in fury, in grief. Your eyes meet—and he surges forward again, shouting something to you as he reaches out, an officer barrelling into him as nails dig into your shoulder—

And then there is a flash of light. Blinding and sharp.

And you are gone.

[wangxianficrecs]

🔒 As good as by apathyinreverie

🔒 As good as

by apathyinreverie (@apathyinreverie)

T, 6k, Wangxian

Summary: Cangse Sanren would be disappointed. (Where LQR, right smack in the middle of the war, realizes that WWX doesn’t have a Core. He promptly enlists his own pining nephew in ensuring that, after winning the war for them, WWX is going to end up with GL instead of YJ. He owes that much to Cangse Sanren.) Kay's comments: Read this and understood why the author was struggling whether to tag good uncle Lan Qiren or bad uncle Lan Qiren lol. I mean, he creates a fix-it and is the force behind Wei Wuxian getting a better life during and after the Sunshot Campaign even with the outlook of a new golden core, but his methods are questionable, intentionally making Wei Wuxian addicted to regular energy transfusions which Lan Wangji is happy to supply. Really great read and a fascinating take on Lan Qiren. Excerpt: Wei Wuxian had been one of his brightest students. Clever and smart and curious in a way that spoke of a brilliant future. Qiren has been furious at the thought of the potential lost to the boy falling to the temptation of power. And yet. Qiren has done nothing to aid him, nothing to turn him back towards the righteous path. Not now. Not while it is the boy’s unorthodoxy that lets him carve a path for the Sunshot Campaign’s forces to march onwards. They are at war. Many of those fighting are still young, but many of them are also old enough to recognize a child risking his own soul for the benefit of all. It is disingenuous for the allied to claim distaste at his powers when they are also relying on him to aid their war. To win it for them. Yes, Cangse would indeed have been disappointed. But not only in her son. If anything, most of her disappointment might have been reserved for everyone else. For everyone watching and whispering and condemning but not doing anything to help.

pov lan qiren, canon divergence, lan qiren is so done, lan qiren tries, fix-it, golden core reveal, colden core transfer fix-it, addiction, manipulation, dual cultivation, tired wei wuxian, genius wei wuxian, developing relationship, getting together, friends to lovers, sunshot campaign, possessive lan wangji, protective lan wangji, angst with a happy ending, cultivation sect politics

~*~

(Please REBLOG as a signal boost for this hard-working author if you like – or think others might like – this story.)

[rius-cave]

Idea for an interaction between Luci and Adam

Lucifer: You used to be so kind and happy. So full of life and wonder. What ever happened to you?

Adam, seething: YOU happened to me, damnit! How do you not see that? You STOLE my first wife! You CORRUPTED my second wife with your shitty fuckin APPLE! You condemned all of humanity, all of my descendants, to a life of toil and suffering, all cuz the Big Plan wasn't fucking good enough for you!

And then, you left me! You left US! Left us to deal with the mess that you created! You are the reason for everything that has ever gone wrong in my life! You're the reason I doubted if Cain was my child! You are the reason Cain killed Able! And YOU are the REASON I was alone in Heaven!

Lucifer, looking mortified: W... What was that last part?

Adam, hysterical: You really didn't know?! Oh, what a fucking joke this is! Yeah, they didn't let Eve in because she committed the first sin. But she wasn't bad enough for Hell, so they basically just... Erased her.

*Adam feels his chest*

Adam: But, hey, at least I got my rib back.

Lucifer: Adam, I-

Adam: Able never got into Heaven cuz they hadn't created the Winner system yet. Cain's still wandering the Earth. I'm not allowed to talk to him. Not allowed to tell him that I forgive him, despite how much I hate what he did to his brother, because the angels fear that my forgiveness would undo his curse.

All of my other children, and all of their children, and so on, are just... MIA. The angels don't know what happened to them. Up until the big J-man came about, there were, like, clerical errors or something. They could be in heaven, and just not realize we're related. Or they could have been in hell, and killed in an extermination. I have nothing, Lucifer. My existence is hollow.

Huh! These are some interesting headcanons about the whereabouts of Adam's family! I have to say I haven't thought much about them, cause idk, I have no purpose for them yet personally. But wow, these hit hard. Eve was just erased????? fuckin yikes :(

Cain still wandering the Earth is also really interesting, is he there as like, an immortal human? Is he a ghost lol? Is he just dead but he can't enter Heaven or Hell like... uh... well a ghost i suppose lmao.

To me it would feel like most of Adam's family just doesn't wanna see him anymore, regardless if they're in Heaven or Hell, but them being just... lost is also an interesting possibility.

Also. ouchie. About that whole exchange. No matter how silly of a guy Lucifer is, he is definitely still the Devil and very much responsible for most of humanity's suffering lol

[qqueenofhades]

maybe i'm misunderstanding the concept, but it lately it's felt like Online Leftists™️ have been using homonationalism as a cudgel against lgbt people wanting to go abroad and feel comfortable doing so instead of as idk a way to critique american exceptionalism or whatever

The thing about Online Leftists and American exceptionalism in any capacity is that literally all their ideas and concepts of it are a) gibberish and b) completely contradictory and hypocritical. This is because it is all based on a reactionary Vibes ideology that has to constantly change itself to oppose whatever the Democrats/the US/the West in general is doing and therefore has no actual logical guidelines or consistent internal principles. To wit:

America is the most powerful country in the world, and that influence is always and forever totally evil because (insert terrible shit America has done here, which is then generalized and applied to all time periods and places without context or nuance). Indeed, America is so powerful that no other country or government in the world has actual agency or makes real choices for which they are morally and legally responsible; they're just helpless and manipulated pawns reacting to American/Western imperialism (which is the only kind of imperialism that exists, somehow). As such, nothing they ever do is actually "bad" or worthy of condemnation, because they're just totally victimized by America and everything they do is justified as long as it is anti-America. Hence, Russia genociding the Ukrainians is actually fine and good, the Ukrainians must have deserved it somehow (witness how many of the people currently screaming about Gaza were yelling that Ukraine was totally fine to attack actually!) and America is evil for trying to intervene. Russian propaganda calls America bad, we think America is bad, and therefore Russian propaganda must be correct, we love Russian propaganda a whole lot and have no interest in examining that fact any further. Russia is actually good because it used to be the USSR! Did you know that?

However, Israel genociding Gaza is utterly unforgivable and terrible and anyone who tries to offer any kind of realistic critique or appraisal of what can or can't be done to stop it is a genocide apologist. America should in fact be intervening to the point of invading Israel and/or dismantling the Israeli state, because maximalist American military intervention is Good when we say it is (but the rest of the time it's the most awful evil thing in the world WHY DON'T YOU CARE ABOUT THE GLOBAL SOUTH). America is still the most powerful country in the world and it should be intervening at all times, but actually it shouldn't do that at all because we're totally not the right-wing America First isolationists sent through the rabbit hole. If America does not choose to exercise its almighty godlike power to stop all the evil in the world (but remember, American military intervention of any kind is obviously bad and Ukraine should definitely still be genocided), it is just proving how evil it actually is. Remember, nobody else makes real choices. They're just reacting to America. America is all-powerful and also evil but still should use this evil power for good because it's good if we decide it is.

Voting is meaningless because the parties are the same, but it's powerful enough to produce a president god-king who could just decide to snap his fingers and end all bad things in the world but just doesn't do that (at least if he's a Democrat; we don't really care what a Republican president does). We think this is a good idea, but don't worry, America is still the source of all evil in the world. America should intervene everywhere and nowhere all at once. America should do nothing because everything it does is evil and past redemption and the only solution is The Revolution which destroys society. America is evil because it was founded on the violent oppression and exploitation of minorities, and therefore the solution is to let fascists be elected to punish those minorities even more because they get in the way of our purist thought experiments and their actual lived experiences don't matter when they contradict our Ideology. BUT ACTUALLY IT STILL SHOULD MILITARILY INTERVENE EVERYWHERE WE SAY SO BUT ACTUALLY IT SHOULDN'T EVER GLOBAL SOUTH. (We don't know what the Global South is or any of its issues, politics, problems, identities, languages, postcolonial developments or so forth, but we know that the Cold War happened and it was all America's fault. Have you heard this piece of Russian propaganda about how Joe Biden is the antichrist? SILENCE IS VIOLENCE SO YOU BETTER SHARE IT.)

Likewise, we support LGBTQ rights in theory but we don't think they're ever worth actually voting to protect (remember, voting is meaningless!) if that also contradicts our aim of The Revolution. We love virulently anti-gay groups like the Houthis if they theoretically support our Anti Genocide stance (don't look at Ukraine, that doesn't count) and also hate Jews. Israel is the only country in the world that has LGBTQ rights and also does stupid or awful military things, and therefore it alone is the problem because it's just pretending to be a democracy or have LGBTQ rights (in comparison to the rest of the Middle East) because it's just cynically covering for all its sins, but those sins are actually America, because Israel is just a white settler colonialist outpost of America, so America not stopping what Israel is doing (by being Israel) is bad. Remember, America is the source of all evil in the world and all other countries are its puppets, so it is also Israel, but it should stop being Israel, because it's the only country that ever makes any choices or has agency. We are very smart.

...basically, if your head hurt trying to read that or follow the logic, that's the point. It has to change constantly and contort itself around in order to both oppose those Weak Mainstream Liberals and act like it has the perfect moral high ground in doing so, regardless of what principles it has to change or what hypocrisies it has to embrace. As such, it has been stripped of any authentic critique or ability to say anything about anything, and I suggest we generally stop letting it pretend that it does. That is the only way to rescue western leftism and make it actually 2% of use at opposing fascism, because right now? Nah. Not in the least. It's actively and gleefully enabling fascism, and after so long hearing how us normie Democratic-voting losers were going to be the ones collaborating with fascists, it makes me just a little bit crazy. Good thing we can erase that too.

[calliesmemes]

LOVE IN ITS MANY FORMS

SENTENCE STARTERS FROM VARIOUS SOURCES FOR PLATONIC DYNAMICS, ROMANTIC DYNAMICS, AND EVERYTHING IN BETWEEN.

CHANGE gendered words and in-universe phrases as needed.

SPECIFY muse for multimuses.

“   If I had a flower for every time I thought of you…I could walk through my garden forever.   ”

“   You are my fate. ”

“   I'm not whole without you. You are life itself to me ”

“   You mean so much to me that sometimes I don’t know how to handle it.   ”

“   Even before I was touched, I belonged to you.   ”

“   We are more than friends; we are family. ”

“   We’ll protect each other. ”

“   Blood makes you related. Loyalty makes you family. You’re my family. ”

“   I want so badly to protect you from the world because I know how bad it can be. ”

“   I promise I will find you in every universe.   ”

“   I’ve always wanted to live a fairytale, and you have written one for me. ”

“   When I fall in love, I fall to pieces.   ”

“   I love you. I’m not just here for the pretty parts — I’m here for you no matter what. ”

“   Something about you makes me feel alive. ”

“   You will never be unloved by me; you are too well tangled in my soul. ”

“   We’re in this together. ”

“   It’s you. It’s always been you. ”

“   I have loved you since we were children. ”

“   I don’t want to have the world’s attention. Yours is enough. ”

“   I broke my rules for you. ”

“   What I have with you, I don’t want with anyone else. ”

“   You have a place in my heart that no one else can claim. ”

“   I’ve been dreaming about you my entire life! ”

“   I’d choose you. Every single time. ”

“   You and me? It’s a forever kind of thing. ”

“   My soul will always find yours. ”

“   If only you knew just how completely and devoutly I worship you. ”

“   I love you with all the broken, blood-stained pieces of me. ”

“   I am your sword, your shield, and your lovesick protector. ”

“   For you, there’s nothing that I wouldn’t do. ”

“   Your subconscious seeks me. ”

“   Sleep. I’ll fight the bad dreams off if they come to get you. ”

“   I don’t think you understand the effect that you have on me. ”

“   You saved me in every way a person could be saved. ”

“   Come back. Come back to me. ”

“   You would not believe me if you knew how often you are in my heart and mind. ”

“   Everywhere I go leads me back to you. ”

“   You are so adorable when you’re angry. ”

“   No, I am not angry. I know your thoughts. Your heart is better than your head. ”

“   I condemn you. Yet my heart yearns for you. ”

“   Whatever our souls are made of, yours and mine are the same. ”

“   My heart is, and always will be, yours. ”

“   I’m obsessed. I’m addicted. I will gladly cross every single line if it means making you mine. ”

“   I am so proud of you. You’ve been so brave. ”

“   The love you have in you is the kind of love that will vigorously shake the world. It is also the kind love that heals all wounds and save souls. And I am tremendously in need of it. ”

“   If I know what love is, it is because of you. ”

“   I will look for you in every lifetime, until we finally stay. ”

“   You will find me when you return, even if you're a thousand years late. ”

“   When it was dark, you always carried the sun in your hand for me. ”

“   Having a soulmate is not always about love. You can find your soulmate in a friendship too. ”

“   I have loved you in every life, I think. ”

“   The way to love someone is to lightly run your finger over that person’s soul until you find a crack - and then gently pour your love into that crack. ”

“   I still remember you as a little girl who overwaters plants because she doesn't know when to stop giving. ”

“   You are dear to me. I don't want to let you go, and I won't give you up. ”

“   I'll tell every one in the world that you are the only one that matters. ”

“   The world was made so that we could find each other in it. ”

“   Friends are the family you choose. ”

“   You and only you, can make the rest of my life peaceful. ”

“   I don't want soft or subtle. I want rough, wild, heartache, I want sins, I want you. ”

“   I think I wished for you all my life. ”

“   How could I ever hate you, when all I know is you? ”

“   It doesn't matter who my father was; it matters who I remember he was. ”

“   You did something for me I couldn’t do for myself. You loved me for who I am. ”

“   I long for you. I really, utterly long for every bit of you. ”

“   You are part of my existence, part of myself. You have been in every line that I have ever read. ”

“   You are beyond all the worlds that I have ever known. ”

“   I will forget my name before I forget you. ”

“   No human being has ever stood so close to my soul as where you stand. ”

“   I always have such need to merely talk to you. ”

“   I waited for you my entire life, and you are worth every minute. ”

“   Family means that no one gets left behind or forgotten. ”

“   We both know that he means the world to you. Why are you afraid to tell him that?   ”

“   You can become homesick for people, too. ”

“   The greatest thing you’ll ever learn is to love and be loved in turn. ”

“   She’s my sister; she needs me. ”

“   Never sacrifice your family, your heart, or your dignity. ”

“   Whatever you do, you’re still my brother. ”

“   My identity rests solely and firmly on this: I am my mother’s daughter. ”

“   Family is supposed to be our safe place. ”

“   The warmest light is your body. ”

“   Forgive me for my love — for ruining you with my love. ”

“   "Family" isn't defined only by last names or by blood; it's defined by commitment and by love. ”

“   I beg of you — let us aside our differences, and see each other as our family. ”

“   You are my treasure, my pale gold, the heart of my heart. ”

“   It is too late to turn you out of my heart. Part of you lives here. ”

“   I don’t care; I love you anyhow. ”

“   I shall do one thing in this life — one thing certain — this is, love you, and long for you, and keep wanting you till I die. ”

“   I think I missed you all my life until you finally showed up. ”

“   Love is sustained by action, a pattern of devotion in things we do for each other every day. ”

“   You bring me peace that I haven’t found anywhere else. ”

“   Remember, no matter how foolish your deeds, those who love you will love you still. ”

“   This morning I’m ambitious, proud, energetic and very madly in love with you. ”

“   You give me joy that few men know. ”

“   I suppose that I am too enamored by you anyway. Every time I see you I get more so if it is possible. ”

“   I just want to relax in your arms. ”

“   I never stopped looking for you. I never gave up hope that you were alive. ”

“   I wish I could be as strong as you. ”

“   It’s okay. Everything is going to be okay. I promise. ”

“   The ones that love us never truly leave us. ”

“   The right people fight for you. ”

“   When we heal ourselves, we heal the next generation that follows. Pain is passed through the family line until someone is ready to feel it, heal it, and let it go. ”

“   Even if you fall or falter, I will be with you. ”

“   I’ll always want you more than anyone. You’ll always matter to me more than anyone. ”

“   Anyone who falls in love is searching for the missing pieces of themselves. ”

“   Perhaps we were friends first and lovers second. But then perhaps this is what lovers are. ”

“   I must admit I miss you terribly. The world is too quiet without you nearby. ”

“   I love you. I knew it the minute I met you. ”

“   You didn’t break me. You helped fix me. ”

“   It’s nice when someone remembers the smallest of details about you. ”

“   Ever since I met you I want you by my side. ”

“   There's no better feeling than to be here with you. ”

“   When we work together, we are unstoppable. ”

“   Whatever I need, I have when I'm with you. ”

“   I’ve loved you from the moment I laid eyes on you. ”

[zayray030]

Perfect Princess

Getting kidnapped by a ghostly manbaby was not on Ace's agenda. And neither was getting claimed as someone's else's fiancée, but whatever saved her ass!

OR

A simple midnight walks lead to Ace getting kidnapped by a prince who wants his perfect princess and the rest of the group having to save her.

Note: This was a comission!

“Ughhh!” whined Grim as he cleaned the windows. “Ughhh!” he whined louder as he tried to rub at a stubborn spot. “Ughhh-!”

“Whine more time and I’ll have Sam remove tuna from the weekly shopping list.” threatened Yuu, as they continued swiping away, almost looking calm where it not for the vein throbbing on their forehead.

“What!” gasped Grim is betrayal! “You can’t do that!”

“Er, yes I can.” Replied Yuu,” sounding as done as they looked as they looked at their monster cat and glared at him. “Now hurry up and stop whining!”

“But cleaning is so boring! And it takes to long!” the cat stomped his foot on the ground like a child.

“And it’s going to take longer the more you whine.” Replied Yuu without missing a beat and turned their attention to the floor. “Now please, just hurry up!”

“Fine!” yelled Grim as he turned back to the windows. “All this yelling at Grim the Great! Why I ought- AHHHH!”

“Grim?!”

“NOW SEE HERE FILTHY VERMIN!” yelled out a random ghost as he and two other ghosts flanking him on both sides threateningly made their way to the duo. “What gives you any right to be where royalty lays! Our prince should not be condemned to have to reside where peasant folks such as yourself reside! Leave so he may fine love and happiness in peace without your disappointing aura looming over him!”

“Who the fuck are you!” snapped Yuu as they tried to make sense of the situation. No way in hell where they the usual ghosts. They were long past their first meeting and those three have been caring ever since Yuu and Grim.

No. These ghosts glared at Yuu and Grim as if they were truly nothing,

“Yeah! This is our dorm! What on earth are you talking about royalty for! Neither Malleus nor Leona even stays here! Bad enough with the way they act already, now they have their ghost servants kick us out of our own dorm!” snapped back Grim, his confidence back after the initial fright “You’re the ones who should be leaving!” he pointed at them with his little paws.

“IF BRUTE FORCE IS WHAT IS NECESSARY TO GET YOU REFFIAN FOOLS OUT OF HERE THEN SO IT SHALL BE!” Yelled out the ghost as it started firing spells  with the help of the two lackeys behind him.

“Ahh!” yelled out Yuu, ducking away from the spells. ‘No way in hell are we going to win.’ They thought despairingly as they witnessed one of the spells make a near by vase explode immediately. ‘I need to get Grim and I to a safer location and see if I can get Crowley up his ass to try and help me. Goodbye this week’s check.’ They thought despairingly as they made a quick grab for their fellow student and ran from the ghosts.

“MRAGH!” yelled out Grim as he was suddenly grabbed. “Wait why are you running away he squirmed, trying to escape. “They’re taking over our dorm!” he argued.

“And also have the ability to turn me into fleshy dust. Let’s not risk a fight we’re going to lose!” yelled out Yuu as they escaped from Ramshackle, the last spell missing them by a quarter of an inch as the doors to ramshackle slammed shut behind them.

“AND STAY OUT!” was the last thing that was heard.

Yuu panted as they tried to make sense of the situation. Prince? Love? Owned Ramshackle? Yuu had no idea what was going on, but they knew that only one person could actually know what happened within this school. “I think.” Began Yuu, as they looked at Grim, mutual understanding in his eyes. “That we should speak with the headmaster.”

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

“So, ghosts in fancy hats stormed into your dorm, yelled at you about a prince finding his love, started shooting spells at you-almost killing you- and then kicked you out of your dorm?” summarised Crowley, as he stared at the beast tamer and the beast in front of him.

“Yup!” Grim popped out the P whilst Yuu nodded.

“Well, that does make sense considering what time of year it is.! Sighed Crowley as he leaned back on his chair.

“You knew this was going to happen?” asked Grim in shock, staring at the headmaster as if he had said tuna was the worst thing to exist.

“NO! Well- mean- look it’s complicated.” Crowley tried to explain, trying to justify his negligence to his student.

“Then explain. Because I didn’t almost die for nothing!” they snapped, somehow managing to glare down at the taller man.

“Essentially the ghost you saw were the retainers of the ghost groom.” Began Crowley. “He is a prince he lived years ago who dreamed off finding the perfect bride. He would search the lands far and wide trying to find the perfect princess so he can have his happily ever after. Unfortunately, he died horribly before he could finish his dreams. His ghost carried on as he tried to find the perfect woman and every year, he comes to our lands to find her.”

“Boo Hoo, man baby didn’t find perfect slave, what does this have to do with me?” asked Yuu irritably as Grim also looked at Crowley in annoyance.

“The prince and his retainers use Ramshackle as their base of operations.” Explained Crowley, slightly disturbed at the lack of empathy, but then again not completely shocking. 7 over-blots would change anyone. “Thankfully you don’t have to worry. He’ll give up after a few days!”

“And what makes you so sure? Normally you tend to be wrong about these things.” Said Griim bluntly, wide eyes staring at Crowley as if he hadn’t crushed his ego in one hit.

Moving on, the man explained. “That’s because the woman he’s describing doesn’t exist!” explained Crowley. “His specifications, and these are direct quoted mind you: 167cm with an air of mischief and kindness! Smooth, healthy skin! Big eyes! A cute pretty smile! Fun and pretty hair! Pink pouty lips that make you just wanna kiss them! Athletic yet curvaceous body!” explained Crowley to Yuu’s growing disgust. “Essentially, he will never find this woman in all of twisted wonderland. Or anywhere else.” He added, looking at his literally out of this world student.

“So what? We’re just meant to wait out his delusions?”

“Unfortunately. However, I am aware that you are close friends with the other dorms so I am sure they will welcome the two of you for a few nights as he gives up and leaves.” Just as Yuu was contemplating the consequences of socking Crowley in the face, the door burst open and there stood a haggard and messy Riddle, panting deeply, following him was an equally worried Ortho.

“HEADMAGE!” The housewarden cried as Crowley jumped in shock.

“Why, Heartslabul Riddle Rosehearts and Igyhide’s Ortho Shroud! What on earth happened?!”

“It’s Ace! She’s been kidnapped by ghost!” he yelled out desperately, eyes frantic.

“WHAT!!?!??” The other three in the room yelled out in shock.

“Kidnapped?” double checked Yuu. “By ghosts?”

“Yes! Look at this security footage!” instructed Ortho as he showed the people in the room what happened to Ace.

“How on earth did you obtain this-?”

“Not know headmaster.” Snapped everyone as they turned their attention to the hologram that Orth was showing them.

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

“Ugh those lot better be grateful that I’m covering for their asses!” Ace huffed as she quietly made her way over to Sam’s “If the housewarden discovered I was sneaking out for something as lame as extra pens and notebooks I would be so screwed.”

However, before she could continue her walk over to Sam’s shop, she suddenly heard a sound.

“…lly…”

“Huh? Who’s there?” she called out, searching for the source of the noise, hand going over to her magic pen.

“…Finally…I found you…” the voice seemed to be growing more louder and more clearly.

“Who’s there.!” Ace called out again, taking her magic pen and brandishing it. However before she could do much, a ghost popped out.

“I finally found you my princess!” Yelled a handsome ghost in a groom’s outfit.

Everything went black.

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

“And we haven’t seen her at all today!” Riddle managed to finally coherently say after he had finally gotten past the panic not onto rage that somebody had kidnapped one of his students.

Meanwhile, Grim, Yuu and the headmaster were sharing a few concerned looks.

“Was that?”

“It would seem so. It seems that the ghost groom has finally found his match. Oh, dear oh dear oh dear.”

“But Ace? She’s the last thing I could ever see be described as the ‘perfect princess? What kind of idiot would look at her and…wait a minute.”

“Technically, Ace is within that height range. She is known to cause trouble however she has been seen helping those around her, like the kid whom she gave that card to. Her skin has no blemishes to it and despite how much trouble she gets on with there doesn’t seem to be a single scar anywhere. Her eyes are a …unique enough colour that it truly does make them stand out. She is in a sports club as well so that’s where the athletic body comes in. And she tends to pout a lot which is what she was doing in that video so technically…she does fit the man’s description. As odd as it is.”

“Of course, only a freak would have been able to view Ace’s wonderfulness and think that he had any right to seal her. We must get her back!” demanded Riddle, fists banging on Crowley’s desk.

“I’m more worried for the guy. I don’t see Ace taking this very lightly and there’s a high chance he’ll return her to use, with him sobbing about how mean she is.” Pointed out Grim, arms folded.

“Either way, if he doesn’t then this can cause a huge problem.” However, suddenly there was a huge yell and a crash. “What on earth?” stood up Crowley, the rest of the students following him also confused by the noise only to be met with absolute pandemonium.

“Headmage!”  voice called out and out popped Deuce looking worse for wear! “Thank god you came! We have a serious problem.!” However, before he could explain, a spell came whizzing by, thanks to the problem he was talking about.

“Getting so bent out of shape over a little joke? How sad.” Cooed Lilia mockingly as the ghosts fired more spells at him.

“Why are you agitating them?” cried Out Deuce as he tried to fire another spell at the fancy ghosts.

“How dare you yell at Lilia. Prepare to perish!” yelled out Sebek as he started dishing out more spells.

Unfortunately, it was becoming clear that the mages were struggling. “Retreat!” called out Crowley.

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

“We’ll be fine here.” Gasped out the Headmage, finally free from the ghosts.

“Oh hello everyone.!” Welcomes Azul.

“Oh.” Yuu pointed out, Hey!” they said as they stared at everyone else gathering consisting of Pomefiore, Cater, Kalim, Azul and Leona. “Guessing the ghosts chased you out to?”

“You have no idea.” Sighed Vil, shaking his head.

As the students started to share stories about how they ended up down here, all ranging from studying and getting chased out, teaching fashion and getting chased to, trying to grab lab equipment and getting chased out and finally just walking and getting chased away, there were definitely some annoyed faces. When they were finished, Riddle explained the situation to them.

“Soo…you’re saying that Ace fits the description of  a perfect princess’?” asked Cater, slight disbelief colouring his words.

When Crowley nodded, silence descended on the students, before a snigger broke out and the boys burst out into laughter.

“Ha-ha, Ace? The perfect princess? Asked Vil mockingly, almost bent over from laughing so much.

“That has to be the most amusing- I mean horrible thing I’ve heard my entire life.” Snickered Azul, fixing his glasses.

“This is no laughing matter!” snapped the headmaster. “If dear Ace marries the ghost groom, her soul will be tied to him, and she will die.” He informed them sombrely.

“WHAT?” yelled out the first years, scared by this new piece of information.

“Ace will turn into a ghost?” repeated Riddle scared. He couldn’t help but feel at fault for the situation, especially since Ace had only decided to leave the dorms because she felt like he would only yell at her. “We have to go and save her!”

“Of course!” reassured Crowley, gesturing to the other students. “I’m sure her fellow peers would love to help-“

“Nah.” They all replied in perfect harmony.

“It was her fault for sneaking out in the middle of the night.” Replied Vil, looking at his nails completely disinterested.

“I gain no benefit from helping her. She has no particular qualities I’m aiming to ste-use.” Replied Azul, shrugging his shoulders.

“Wayyy to much effort.” Replied Leona, yawning loudly.

“What disgusting attitudes.” Mumbled Yuu, holding Grim tighter in their grip.

“Well, I guess I’ll do it myself.” Ortho glared at them. Just as Kalim was about to ask how, the other boy called out. “Running system for shortest time to retrieve Alice Trappola. Method achieved. Blow up the school. This will commence when talk is at 100%. Power currently at 60%. 80%-“

“STOP! DO NOT BLOW UP THE SCHOOL!” Yelled Crowley, waving his arms hysterically.

“Well, if you have any better suggestions to getting Ace out I would love to hear it!” replied Ortho, still pointing the beam at the school.

“The rest of you! Have you no shame!? You’re certain you want to stick with your answers?” asked Crowley, glaring at his students with nothing but pure disgust. “Because I know for a fact that when dear Ace-chan finds out that you all deserted her, hell will reign over this school.”

“What on earth are you talking about, Headmage?” asked Sebek confused, crossing his arms.

Crowley turned to Azul. “She will tear your business to shreds. She will have ghost armies constantly vandalising your restraint. Any business deal she’ll snuff out like  a flame and constantly bring up how you let a teenage girl die.”

“Hrk.”

“You think playing villains is bad?” asked Crowley, turning to Vil. “I’m sure everyone who thought you were shady, and evil will be kicking their feet up in joy knowing that they were right that you let a girl die in front of you.”

Now looking at Leona. “Forget any peaceful naps or days for the rest of your miserable life. She WILL haunt you and make It worse even after you break.”

“Okay, okay!” Lilia put his hand up. “We get it. Ace-chan isn’t going to let this slight towards her remain unpunished. Now, how do we do this?” asked Lilia.

“How kind you all are!” Crowley yelled out, the fakest smile in the history of the world on his face. “Now, since we’re dealing with supernatural beings who far outnumber us, let us go and see the one-man who has everything for any situation.

“Sam.” They all chorused out, heading onto his store.

“I’m guessing this is about the ghosts?” asked Sam, the moment they stepped into the store.

“How did you know?” asked Riddle, shocked at how quick the man received information.

“2 things. One, my friends in the shadows. And two, Ace’s brother called me and said that he had a bad feeling, so I checked some of the store cameras outside and it shows little Ace being taken away by the ghost.” Explained Sam, pointing at one of the cameras in the shop.

“So, do you have something that can help?” asked Riddle, fidgeting a little. I mean, It’s not like you have an anti-ghost groom-.”

“IN STOCK!”

“Seriously?” asked Leona, eyes wide.

“Ha nope!”

“WHAT?” The end of the world might actually be coming.

“Well, I mean I do? But Ace’s brother said that you guys can come up with something or he’ll you kill himself.”

“How useful. Once again, thank you Sam!” thanked Crowley as he and the rest of the students exited the store.

“So now what do we do?” asked Crowley.

“Well, the only way that we can success is is…. we fight for Ace!” announced Riddle.

“What?” the rest deadpanned

“Not a bad idea.” Agreed Crowley thoughtfully. I mean none of you would ever match he prince’s description and maybe if he saw that Ace was already in the hands of another how will give up!”

“And how do we do that? It’s not like he’ll be dying to let anyone near spiky.” Leona yawned.

“By challenging his masculinity.” Yuu suggested, stroking Grim’s fur as they thought of ways to blackmail the Headmage into giving them more money.

“Perfect! Let’s gather as many students as possible for this!” declared Riddle.

“We meet at the little cottage near the mines.”

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

“This is all you have?” demanded Riddle as he stared at the students assembled. The only one’s not out of the main group where Ruggie, Scarabia and Malleus and Silver.

“Ruggie said not on his life, Jamil needs to keep Kalim out of trouble and Silver needs to protect Malleus.” Explained the headmaster.

“God enough.” Riddle huffed as he stared back at the Headmage. “So how do we do this? We can’t just storm in.”

“Can’t we?” asked Vil. “I mean, we can always just say that we found out about the beautiful princess that lived here and wanted to be given the chance.”

“HEHE, can’t wait to see crabby.” Giggled Floyd.

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

“How dare you insult our prince!” yelled out a ghost indignantly. Stood before him was anyone who was over 180cm who could make the prince feel small.

“I mean are we wrong?” asked Vil, flipping his fair. “If a man simply can’t allow others to gaze upon beauty, then that man is simply a coward who doesn’t deserve the fair lady’s hand in marriage.”

“What on earth has gotten into you?” asked Leona, disturbed at the new chivalrous version of Vil.

“Fine! We’ll show you that only our prince is worthy of anyone!” declared the ghost as he let everyone.

‘This is going to go terribly” thought Jack as he and the rest were escorted into the school.

When they made it to the great hall, there floated the prince in all his glory. “So, I hear you are the ones who are trying to fight for my fiancées hand in marriage?” he asked, sneering at the lot.

“Why yes, we are the only ones truly worthy of her!” declared Vil, much to everyone else’s shock. Where had his previous attitude gone?

“SHUT UP!” Shrieked the prince loudly, fire dancing around him, “I’m the only one worthy of her and I will prove it!”

“Ughhh, whatever, just give us back spiky no-“Suddenly Leona felt a burning sensation on his cheek. It took a couple of seconds for him to realise he had been slapped. “Why you-!”

“Such brutish and uncouth behaviour! My princess deserves to be spoiled by all and treated as if she is the most beautiful person ever!” huffed the prince, almost throwing a temper tantrum.

Vil smirked as Leona glared at the other prince. “I do agree with you. Someone as beautiful as Ace deserves to feel celebrated and loved all the-“

“Do you have a pet? A cat, dog, bird?” the prince shot out in rapid fire.

“What? No, I don’t have ti-!” SLAP!

“My princess deserves to always have something or someone looking after her! NEXT!”

“My name’s Jack.” Introduced the wolf beast man.

“And Jack. Do you have a sword?” asked the prince expectantly?”

“No, why would I? I can always just pun-.” SLAP.

“A princess deserves a prince with a dashing sword to come save her! NEXT!”

On and on it went, everyone getting slapped for one reason or another. Floyd for getting violent, Jade for trying to give a poisonous mushroom, Trey for not being able to give  a single compliment and so on.

“Well, then. Let’s send the next group.” Muttered Crowley in disappointment.

SLAP! SLAP! SLAP!

“Too shady! Too talkative! Too cute! Too dumb!” yelled the prince.

“Well, this is just pathetic.” Muttered Leona. Before anyone else can agree with him, the doors opened up once again and there was Ace.

Her hair was styled into perfect little ringlets that framed her face and cascaded down her back. Her hair was also adorned by the most beautiful of jewels as were her hands and neck. Her dress captured her figure whilst also trailing down teasingly. Her veil was intricate and beautiful, flipped onto her hair to show her face. Everyone in the room almost forgot how to think with such beauty gracing their eyes.

This inability to think is what would lead to one of the worst (debatable in the eyes of some. However, in the eyes of this person, it was the best) moment ever.

Azul, in full confidence stood up and said, “I object as her true fiancé!” yelled the teen with more passion than when he had used to scam Crowley.

“What?” turned around everyone, looking at him in parts murder and parts confusion. However, Ace caught on quickly, eyes flooding up with fake tears as she ran to the frozen man,

“BABY!” She yelled; her voice shocked up with tears as she attempted to comfortably wrap her arms around the other. Seeing her beauty up close made Azul truly appreciate that he had talent to at least compensate for something. “I was so scared when this strange, creepy man abducted me!” her voice was alarmingly high pitched, sounding like a scared lost child and not at all like someone who kicked Azul in the balls when he once insinuated she and Riddle had been a thing.

“My princess!” gasped the prince affronted at such accusations. “I did not kidnap you! You should be honoured that I chose you as my bride!”

“Suck a titty!” she replied, turning around to glare at him. The other boys had to hold in their laughter but let a few snorts escape. “Why the hell should I be honoured that you chose me? What? Because I fit some creepy physical requirement list? There is more to choosing a partner than just merely how they look!”

“Oh, yes? Like what?”

“How about someone you can laugh and cry with? Someone who’ll stick with you through all the hard times? Someone who you can share withing with? Someone who wants to be with you just as much as you want to be with them!” That’s who would be the perfect PARTNER!”

Throughout all of this Azul couldn’t help but stare entranced by the girl and what she was saying.

The prince said nothing. Merely staring at her and her Azul before sighing and signalling for the rest of the ghosts to back off. “Let us leave. The girl has given me much to think about. And you, shady!” called out the prince, pointing at Azul. “Never lose this wonderful woman. OR I WILL HUNT YOU DOWN,” and with those lovely words the prince and his entourage left.

“Well, that was something.” Azul finally broke the silence, however he was immediately slapped by an angry bride.

“OWCH” winced the other boys.

“Next time you claim to be someone’s fiancée don’t be more romantic, CREEP!” And with that she marched on her heel and stormed out, just as the rest of the group walked in. Riddle, smiled smugly at Azul as he gently guided Ace back to the dorms with him.

“Soooo, exactly how well do you think it’ll go over with Riddle if I asked her out?” asked Azul as he stared at the disappearing red head duo.

“Oh, you would die.” Answered Deuce plainly, not even looking a little sorry for Azul, however that might have to do with the fact that he’s still a little shell-shocked from Ace.

[kimyoonmiauthor]

The whole Haitian Grill Hoaxes.

Warning: Talks about Haitian history of slavery briefly and of cooking animals.

Not my usual line of posts, but meh, I kinda want to so some solidarity, education and attempt at least to weave in some talk of anthropology and worldbuilding with it.

First off, Anthropologists are required to take as undergraduates Physical Anthropology. We have to be able to tell the difference between a carnivore, an herbivore and a omnivore. And also are taught things like how to tell the difference between human bones and animal bones. No lie, this was one of the most difficult classes I took and I spent for probably the first time in a long time studying my ass off. I usually don't study, but for this one I studied really hard. 'cause you have to memorize the names of bones and how they differ. (Cue me crying because I still remember frontal parietal and occipital and semi-have nightmares about this class. I still have mandible, but then semi panic about the names of all of the nose bones.)

This isn't what I thought I'd be using my degree for, but here we are.

Next, I 100% do not condone and 100% condemn everyone being AHs to Haitians who've had enough crap in their history, such as, but not limited to Columbus depopulating the Island of Taino (It's a word that starts with G), enslaving a bunch of Africans, and then people getting upset when they overthrew their slave owners. This is designed as a defense against the racist who accuse them of eating an animal rarely eaten in human history especially WITHOUT ANY FLAVOR. WTF. Only people who are from the Europe do that. Did you really get insulted by Tim Walz making fun of the white American Palate and then confirm he was correct? Yes, you did.

I'm pulling out my love of food anthro for this too. lol Did I almost write a book about it? Yes, yes I did. Also, I have graphic design knowledge to be able to tell things.

***

This is the image. Those are chickens, whole, not free of their internal organs.

Might be 3-4 chickens, but this is my best guess:

That's the anatomy break down.

Basically, the tail is not a rabbit tail. The tail is also not a cat tail. It matches a bird tail.

The legs are not rabbit legs—they are too long and there is a claw. There is a wing in the picture. Cats don't have the anatomy. They have longer tails and it wouldn't look that way.

For reference, the Sphinx Cat. (which is really expensive, BTW. They've been catnapped before.)

The red in the picture is glare from a window because the person is standing and as the video goes, if you focus on the glare you can see it is a white person taking the video—or at least very light skinned wearing a red t-shirt and dark pants. Might even be a Trump T-shirt, but I couldn't confirm it on repeated viewings. This means the window is pretty big. It's not a car. The way the person shifts within the video means they are likely in their own house. There is a level of comfort there. This was also likely taken with a phone because the resolution is terrible. The way the camera shifts as the person shifts their position, etc and the bad camerawork, suggests amateur with a phone. (Also didn't expect to use my graphic design knowledge for this)

Dude, just go outside your house to film.

The second reason this isn't from a car like some people suggest is there is a fence that goes along the back of the property where the beveling of the fence suggests it's to protect the current yard. This means the fence likely goes the entire perimeter of the yard which would mean it's not visible from the street. The majority of grills are set up to face the house, not the street, unless you're planning on selling it.

Sphinx is an all furless cat. This looks nothing like what is in the picture. Those are birds.

It was pointed out to me that it might be stewing chickens, i.e. after they've been retired from egg laying. The kind you make into something like Dak Komtang. This means the picture was 100% faked.

Now, why is it a badly faked image: Cultural Anthropology and food anthropology here.

In order to cook any animal in a BBQ setting, every culture I know of where you are physically using a grill: You would have to chop it up so it cooks evenly and if you don't do that, put it on a spit to cook it whole. It *is* possible to cook a whole chicken, however, one would have to have taken out the giblets, and then dressed and marinated it thoroughly so that the breasts are correctly tied, plus you would have to tie it up so that the wings are tied to the body: https://bluejeanchef.com/cooking-school/how-to-truss-a-chicken/

Truss it tight. This helps the chicken to cook evenly. Similarly with rabbit you'd have to empty the main cavity of the innards.

No one leaves the chicken feet on in that case. It's better to take off that part of the legs and do something else with them, like say Chinese Chicken feet for dim sum.

Nunzio pointed out that the chickens were likely stewing chickens, i.e. retired breeders.

based off of this picture. i.e. terrible for grilling on the barbecue because it's much tougher meat.

In addition, while there are cultures that do eat chicken heads, often to make the chicken cook more evenly, they are cut off of the body and grilled/cooked separately because the rate at which the head cooks is faster than the rest of the body. In the picture you can see the chicken combs.

The next point of clue that this is a faked image is that there is NO FUCKING FLAVOR ON THE CHICKEN.

White food travel shows, Haitians themselves when making their food, my own mouth is going to tell you, that is is packed to the gills with flavor. OMG, some of the food is so spicy, even this Asian feels like they were crying. C'mon now, that's a crime to say that Haiti people are going to cook anything on the grill with no flavor.

You know the only cuisine in the world that gets close to doing that? Europeans and people of that direct descent. And I've eaten my way through South America, Central America, North America, Texas BBQ, Louisiana, NE America, South West America, Italy, France, England, Germany, Poland, Russian, Hungarian, Iranian, Armenian, Tunisia, Nigeria, Ethiopian, Greek, Chinese (Northern and Southern, BTW), Japan, Korea, most of SE Asia, Philippines, and some of the South Pacific (Working on it). There is only one continent that does not flavor their meat before putting it on the grill—effing Europe. WTF.

The rest of the world is begging you to at least marinate your meat. !@#$ Even effing Texans are begging you to marinate your meat.

Anyway, no self respecting home chef or any type of cook would cook their meat this way.

Food experience

I've eaten and cooked whole rabbit, whole chicken, whole turkey, whole goose, venison (legally hunted and shot), beef, lamb, goat (not whole), and !@#$ there is no way someone is cooking it that way without any heat on the grill first. In order to grill anything, you need a lot of prep time to make it work, even for smoking. You need to heat up the grill.

Let me tell you as a kid when I first arrived to the US, my mom would serve up crap meals which consisted of mediocre rice, fish sticks, and carrot and celery sticks. God, I hated the cooking. And she kept saying how she would not ever put in more effort into our meals. Having some semblance of foundation about cooking, I watched cooking shows, read cook books, and managed to get the foundations of cooking from asking and doing.

This meant by the time I was a teenager I was making the majority of the meals for the house. In fact, my parents made me do the majority of the cooking some nights AND clean the dishes I cooked with sometimes because they were seriously assholes.

They also would have me heat the briquettes for the grill ALONE. --;; Unsupervised. Yeah, not recommended, and I would never ask kids to do it on their own. Don't do as my parents did.

On the list of things they had me cook was things like venison and goose. When I flunked out of college the first time due to lingering trauma, they also had me do all of the cooking for rent and made unreasonable demands on me.

Fuck. Go back to your fucking fish sticks.

The point is that I know the foundations of cooking meat very, very well. I got so good at it, I could sense the difference in smell to know when it was cooked versus not cooked.

I made up recipes too.

Anyway, there is NO way you would be cooking meat like that with the head still stuck on. For the cultures like Ireland that eats things like brains, the head is ALWAYS cooked separately from the body. The brain is squishy in there and can make the skull explode in some cases because it cooks at a different rate from the rest of the body. The same with the internal organs. Those are removed in every culture or taken out, rinsed and carefully placed back into the cavity of the animal to cook *with additional* things added (sometimes rocks, sometimes extra meats, etc.) Again, if you don't do that, the inside will explode. (And in some cases make things really bitter like gall bladder tastes nasty. You can see people eating the gall bladder on Youtube.)

This is why this is a faked picture.

In addition, the cultures that do eat things like cats are usually ravaged by imperialism, therefore, poverty. And I know how much imperializing nations like to make fun of other cultures they imperialized to the point of crippling their food supply and their inability to get new technology like refrigerators.

This is why I think it's best to not ridicule other culture's foods.

And don't believe hoaxes like this. Including the whole This is a dog without canine teeth video hoax. It's simply not worth it.

And I'd also beg you to fact check, fact check before you perpetuate rumors. But I suppose this is a lesson in racism and xenophobia too.