#i know it's better for you to remain impartial or whatever

[officiallycake-blog]

Am I an unreasonable and self-centered pc? Or are my brothers argumentative for no good reason?

[words-put-together]

Clothes shopping - Avatrice AU

[set between S1 and S2; Ava has never had the chance to go shopping for clothes, Beatrice is there to help]

Despite knowing Ava had been confined to a bed and cared for by nuns since she was a child, she never really thought about how much that could affect small, everyday stuff, such as clothes shopping.

Beatrice had set out with a specific plan, an estimate amount of clothes they should get, and an idea of what shops to go to, where they would most likely have the type of clothes she liked.

So, when she noticed Ava was no longer trailing behind her in the store and instead stood frozen in the pants section, she frowned in confusion.

“I don’t know.” Ava said as she approached her.

“What?”

“I don’t know how to buy clothes.” Ava said, with a bitter, disbelieving laugh that felt like a small, sharp needle sinking into Beatrice heart. “I don’t know what things go together, what I should wear to not draw attention like you said or if I should just get what the mannequins wearing-“

“Ava” Beatrice called, placing her hands on Ava’s shoulders. “Forget what I said, just get what you like.”

Though Beatrice meant well, that sentence just seemed to break whatever wall was holding Ava together.

“I don’t know what I like.” She whispered sadly, her eyes shimmering with tears.

“Ava…” the hold Beatrice had on her arms seem to loosen, before hesitantly sliding her hands down to pull Ava closer, hugging her at the waist.

In turn, Ava buried her face in the crook of Beatrice’s neck, the lingering smell of her shampoo making Ava’s mind go blank for an instant. They stayed like that for a while, like the world seemed to fade around them and not even Beatrice was aware of the odd looks people gave her.

“I’m sorry.” Ava sniffed after a while, taking a step back to look at Beatrice, only to find her staring with so much concern and care that Ava couldn’t help the wide smile that spread across her face. “I’m crying over clothes out of all things, after so many people got hurt, killed at the Vatican and it’s stupid-“

“It’s not stupid.” Beatrice cut her off, gently using her thumbs to wipe away the trace of tears on Ava’s face, her hands lingering a little longer as Ava leaned into her touch. “It’s not stupid you- we have a lot of stuff going on, so it’s not stupid if you want to cry it’s- it’s ok.”

It seemed to hit her too fast and too hard that, because they were so busy trying to find somewhere to hide, neither of them had time to just stop and think and feel for the loss of the battle, of their sisters, of Mary…

“It’s not stupid?” Ava asked, almost in a childlike way.

“If you care about it, it’s not stupid.” Beatrice finalized, taking a hold of Ava’s hand and leading her to the exit. “Let’s go. We’ll figure it out.”

“How are we gonna figure it out outside of the store?”

“You’ll see.”

<>

Though Ava wasn’t sure how an ice cream cone would help them, she was not one to deny free food, so she decided to keep her questions to herself, at least until they’d sat down to eat.

Instead of answering, Beatrice just started to subtly point at people, asking Ava what she thought about their outfits. At first Ava was hesitant, unsure of what to say and afraid to upset Beatrice because what if what she said was ugly was something Beatrice would like?

Eventually, Ava became some sort of fashion god, eagerly pointing out clothing items she liked and all but dragging those who wore things she wasn’t particularly… fond of. Beatrice tried her best to remain impartial, as to not affect Ava’s opinion, yet she couldn’t hold back her laugh when Ava started to make loud bird noises when a tall, elegant woman walked by with a white feathered coat.

“Do you feel better now?” Beatrice asked, as they walked back to the big department store.

“Yeah, I mean…. I know what I don’t like.” Ava giggled. “Thank you, for everything really. You could’ve just bought whatever you wanted and make it two, you know?”

“And have you complain about using button up shirts all day?” Beatrice teased, giving her a light shove.

“Button up shirts?! Is that what you like to wear?” Ava asked, a little in disbelief. “Not that it’s bad, it actually suits you perfectly but it seems so-“

“Uncomfortable?” Beatrice finished, getting a sheepish nod in return. “I think it’s fine, but you don’t strike me as a beige shirt kind of person.” Ava just gave her a small nod in agreement, sighting before entering the store.

“You can look around at everything, take your time.” Beatrice encouraged, when she noticed Ava was still rooted at the entrance.

“What about you?”

“Oh well, you can look around on your own or you can come with me to the underwear section and help me look for the cotton-“ before she could finish, Ava was walking past her and into the infinite pants section.

<>

To Beatrice’s surprise, Ava is a lot more organized when shopping than she is in almost every other aspect of her life. She’d gotten two shopping bags: one for clothes she really likes and one for clothes she like but isn’t totally sure about.

“Now the problem is if they’ll actually look good on me.” Ava says as she drags Beatrice to the fitting rooms.

“Anything would look good on you.” Beatrice argues, and though she really didn’t meant to say it out loud, it’s true, so she fights down the urge to apologize and simply looks away. Ava’s cheeks feel impossibly hot, but she laughs it of and gives Beatrice a gentle shove before entering the fitting room.

Much to the shop workers dismay, Ava spends the next two hours putting on a fashion show for Beatrice, who sat in the fitting room opposite to Ava’s, getting her another size if it didn’t fit right and putting the clothes back in its hangers once she was done.

Beatrice had never been one to care for clothes, but seeing Ava’s confidence grow with each outfit, and her wide smile every time she threw open the curtain made her change her mind. Suddenly, she was very interested in what colors and cuts and patterns would suit Ava best, taking the advice of the girl in charge of the fitting rooms, who was kind enough to tell her coworkers not to kick them out after Ava’s fifth excited yell.

In the end though, Ava was only sure about a certain amount of clothes that wasn’t nearly enough of what she would need, considering they would be staying for a month, at best.

“We can just come back next week.” Beatrice shrugged, carrying the five bags full of basic stuff like underwear, socks and sportswear, plus shirts and pants for herself. “We also need to get some shoes.” She added, more for herself than for Ava to hear.

“But you hate shopping.” Ava pointed out with a slight pout.

“I hated shopping with my mother.” Beatrice corrected after a while, getting a wide, almost disbelieving smile from Ava. “It’s a lot better with you.” She added with a small, shy smile, making Ava stop right in front of her and throw her arms around Beatrice, despite the three bags she herself was holding.

“Thank you, Bea.” She said, low enough for only her to hear. It was an awkward hug due to the amount of bags they were holding, yet Beatrice couldn’t help but miss it once Ava stepped away.

From then on, every week or so they took an evening off from training and work, at first going to different stores and shopping malls in search of clothes, but later just to try new foods or look around, without really needing to buy anything.

It was on one of those days, after sharing a waffle topped with three different ice cream flavors, chocolate syrup and rainbow sprinkles, that Ava proposed an exchange.

“I’ll get something that I think you’ll like and you get me something.” She was basically buzzing with energy, already looking around the shop in search of something for Beatrice.

“What if you don’t like it?” Beatrice asked with a frown. She’d watched Ava try on million different things and she could certainly say she knew what she liked, but she was still not sure about having to buy something for her.

“Of course I’ll like it, Bea.” Ava reassured, taking her hand in hers and dragging her foward. “Let’s meet back here in 15 minutes?” Beatrice nodded absentmindedly, her mind too focused on Ava’s soft hand in hers.

Ava bolted right into the men’s section, as if she already had an idea of what to get, which Beatrice thought was unfair, but really sweet. Beatrice just walked around the store, not really looking at anything in particular, until a particular memory popped in her head.

Fifteen minutes later, they met at the entrance of the store, their hands hidden behind their backs.

“You first.” Beatrice said, and Ava took a small step forward before handing her the bag.

“If you don’t like it I can take it back but I really think this color would…” Ava spoke as she watched her open the bag, but stopped as she saw Beatrice’s lips curl up into a smile.

“It’s perfect.” She said simply, running her hands over the soft fabric of the blue sweater.

“Really?” Ava asked, looking into her eyes as if she could spot any trace of a lie.

“Mine looks small now.” Beatrice said, a little deflated, handing her a smaller bag in return. Ava didn’t reply and instead yanked the bag open, taking out a simple, blue hat and holding it out like it was some sort of trophy. “You’re always complaining about the sun hitting your eyes and your face getting all red so…” Beatrice explained, and though it wasn’t really needed because Ava was really happy with the hat, the reasoning behind it only made her cherish it more.

“Thank you.” Ava said, putting it on before giving Beatrice a quick kiss on the cheek, making both of their faces redden.

[goat-esc-winner-showdown]

Okay, so... as hopefully all of you know, round 1 of the GOAT Eurovision Winner Showdown will start tomorrow, on Monday. Just like with round 0, one poll will be posted each day at 5pm UTC/GMT time and run for 24h.

However, as I was preparing the poll posts I noticed that the second poll of round 1, due to be posted on Tuesday... Is this:

Hey, blame the RNG, not me.

Anyway, perhaps there's no need for this post, but I just wanted to remind everyone to remain impartial. I'm aware of the discontent towards the 2023 winner. Heck, I share it. However, poll 2 will pit "Tu te reconnaîtras" (1973) against "Euphoria" (2012). Whatever your feelings are about "Tattoo", please, save them for poll 32, which will pit "Vivo cantando" (1969) against "Tattoo" (2023). When poll 2 goes live on Tuesday, vote for the song you think is better, don't let what happened in this year's ESC influence your vote for poll 2

[thenewfuture]

Kyosuke, do you have evidence that any of them are the attacker? (and NO the fact that they are associated with despair does not count)Focus on finding the evidence first, then (if proven guilty) you can kill them. Next time you stumble across a body, see if you can find any fingerprints or hair or whatever.

....I'll admit, I don't have solid concrete evidence that you speak of. If this were a class trial, I would no doubt need those to sustain my arguments.

But unlike that game, Naegi went through, this is the real world! The Remnants of Despair are suspicious and are the number one suspects we have in mind. Why else would this happen after touching down on our base with Naegi and his compatriots? The timing is too perfect.

B-B-But still....we don't truly know for c-c-certain if they did such a thing...right?

Let me ask you then, do you have any other suspects in mind Seiko?

Haaaaaaahhhhh......No.....

Hmph, well there you go.

B-B-But...! Wh-What happens if it turns out they t-t-truly weren't responsible?

Then we keep going down the suspect list! Sooner or later, we'll get it right.

And what's up with you? You're acting as if you really do believe those punks. And I swear I heard you talking earlier. You really didn't see them?

N-N-N-Noooo...! I-I was just....asking, and remaining impartial...! I really didn't see them...! I would tell you if I did Kyosuke, h-honest! You can believe me...y-you know that, d-don't you...?

................

.......... *Kyosuke walks closer to Seiko, looks at her directly in the eye...*

H-Huh....? *....and hugs her...*

Thank you. I can trust you, Seiko. You are one of the most dependable people I can rely on now.... With Chisa gone I....I feel like I lost a part of myself... I lost someone close to me, a close ally and dear friend. But with you here, I know things will get better. Hope is yet on the horizon for us.

Kyosuke.....

Well....now what do we do?

*Kyosuke lets go of Seiko and steps back* The Remnants are a threat still, but Naegi too is also out there along with his own compatriots. Kyoko Kirigiri could prove to a problem for us, we need to dispose of her as soon as possible.

Say no more, I got 'em! It's just her and that wimp Hagakure? This'll be easy.

What about you, Seiko? What will you do?

H-H-Huuuuh?! M-M-Meeeee?! I...I don't know... I....I'm not good with....

No, I understand. I don't want you to throw yourself into danger and potentially risk yourself as well....

Don't worry, let my justice be your justice! I shall guide this Foundation to true hope! Naegi and the Remnants are mine!

I only ask that you stay safe, dear friends. The day is still ours. I hope to see you again soon when we make it through this.

Heh! We sure will! *Kyosuke presses onward while Juzo heads back in their search, leaving Seiko alone standing there...*

............... *....There footsteps can no longer be heard...*

*inhaaaaaale....*

Hhhhhhhaaaaaaaaaaannnnnnnnggggghhhhhhhh........!

[thydungeongal]

Yeah, the point about many queer-made games centering romance is fair, which I think is a good reason to also hype up games that don't center queerness and allow for just having queer characters while not centering it. Which is in fact how I tend to play games: I often play games in the adventure genre and my characters are often queer, but I wouldn't say the games themselves are queer.

But yeah the point about the rules comparison was ultimately that different games have different strengths, and are also opinionated about different things. D&D is ultimately a game that is about combat. When combat happens it means that the game itself is taking the lead and while the group is free to ignore whatever rules and procedures they want, they have those rules and procedures to fall back on in combat. Outside of combat they have a bare-bones framework. Which doesn't necessarily mean it's going to be bad, but the game itself is going to do much less of the heavy lifting. That's what I mean by it being more work. Rules aren't just a hindrance that stop gameplay, they're support that also let the game have a voice where the story should go (and games are actually loudly opinionated about where stories should go if given the chance), and they provide impartial arbitration. I know a lot of people chafe against detailed social procedures in many games, and I tend to agree that they're not a good fit for every genre, but in genres that hinge on social interaction having impartial rules for social interaction is not only desirable it's critical.

This is also why I think the point about players being able to ignore rules isn't actually great: ultimately it signifies that players aren't interested in where the game itself wants to take the story. This is one of those cases where I know that mileage varies a lot, but this is basically the rule 0 fallacy in a nutshell: just because you can ignore a certain rule doesn't mean the rule isn't there and the rule being there itself says something about the built in assumptions of the game.

And the same goes for queerness in games, I think: me and my friends could play a game of D&D where we barely touched the combat rules and we might even have fun with it, but the game itself wouldn't be bringing a lot to the table in that regard and we might actually be better served by a different game that had more support for meaningful gameplay outside of combat. And so too with queerness: me and my friends could play a D&D campaign where we tried to ignore the core gameplay encouraged by the game for a game that is more reflective of a queer experience, but once again the game itself wouldn't have a lot to offer there. And that's true for most games: they're, as you said, "undecided" on the topic of queerness. That's definitely a win from the point of view for allowing for gameplay where the queerness isn't central but characters can still be queer (a style of play I also like: like, my favorite games are in the adventure game genre), but the point remains that just because players can bring their queerness into the game doesn't transform the game itself into a queer text.

But yeah I do think you make a great point in saying that most games that center queerness do focus on romance and sex, which isn't without its issues. But the broader point, and the original motivation for me in making this post, was to point out that a game that is ultimately, as a text, just a fun dungeon fantasy game isn't itself intrinsically queer, and that any queerness brought into the game itself isn't in any way something reinforced by the game or even encouraged by its gameplay.

D&D is the Taylor Swift of TTRPGs by which I mean it's something with broad mainstream appeal and name recognition and also there are people out there who pretend it's gay

[taughtdefense]

@taughtpain for a season 6 starter

you squeeze robby’s hand comfortingly as you walk up with him up towards the sparring deck at miyagi-do, leading the pack since you & your partners arrived at the dojo first. you stop in front of the deck, but your fingers remain laced with his even as you bend down, kissing his cheek gently. miguel slots himself next to you, still holding sam's hand before reaching up, running his other hand through your hair. you laugh lightly, amusement shining in your eyes. your other friends are scattered behind you. despite having lost barnes' training initially, the group still want to be there for their friends. standing on the sparring deck are your mom, johnny, mr. bierce, your dad, & johnny—chozen decidedly isn’t here. you don’t know why, but despite your curiosities, you don’t ask for more details.

❝ i don’t know about you, but i’m pretty excited for whatever's happening. ❞ you murmur into robby's ear, then look up from him when your dad calls everyone to attention. your eyes are drawn to the middle of your senseis. in between them is a glass bowl, filled with little slips of paper. all of your senseis look down at the group, their eyes constantly moving to look at everyone.

❝ listen up, you little shits, ❞ wade begins, causing you to smirk slightly, & vanessa elbows him lightly. wade grunts, muttering an apology ( force of habit ) to your mom before continuing. ❝ so we know that over the past few days, some of you were wondering how the senseis of miyagi-fang were going to choose between the three male winners of barnes' training. ❞ that's you, robby & miguel.

❝ after some brainstorming last night, we decided to have a lottery to determine our fighters for today’s match. whoever wins between the boys will go on to represent the boys division for the sekai taikai. ❞ mr. bierce further explains. you perk up slightly. the lottery idea makes sense—it’s impartial, randomized, & ensures an equal chance of winning for the three of you.

you squeeze robby’s hand again. miguel frowns slightly, but decidedly doesn’t look at you or robby, something you notice, of course. if he has to face you in a few minutes…

❝ all three of you deserve a shot at the captaincy. ❞ mr. larusso says, his eyes flickering between you, robby & miguel. ❝ an equal one, which is why there are equal amounts of paper in this bowl. whoever's name is called, please step up, ❞ mr. bierce adds seriously, ❝ because you'll be fighting today. the finale fight will be in two days' time. ❞

with that, johnny picks up the bowl & shakes it vigorously for a few moments, & you watch as he pulls out one slip of paper. he calls miguel's name. miguel takes a deep breath before stepping up onto the deck, facing the group. after shaking the bowl for another few seconds, johnny pulls out another slip of paper. he looks at you, & you fight the urge to blink.

❝ ethan, you're fighting miguel today. ❞ he announces. tory's eyes widen in surprise, & she exchanges a glance with sam. well, it was either you or robby, & you don't mind having to fight miguel. ❝ be right back, my love. ❞ you quickly tell robby, then look at sam & tory. tory gives you a tiny smile, nodding in encouragement at you, which makes you feel a little better. you kiss robby's forehead before stepping up to the sparring deck, eyeing up miguel as you take your place, your mind is already starting to whirl with different kinds of judo moves you could do to take him down, or eagle-fang movements, or huaquan. as the senseis—save for olen—remove themselves, the bowl & the stand from the deck, your body language switches in an instant: you exude a calmness that slightly unnerves miguel, but he quickly schools his expression. he's never genuinely fought you before, but he knows all-too-well what you're capable of. it's something you're highly aware of, too. but miguel needs this. he needs to win the captaincy slot.

( he thinks you don't, not really. not in the same way he desperately does, because you haven't said anything about colleges or what you want to do after you graduate high school. stanford is on the line for him. )

❝ face me, bow, ❞ mr. bierce orders, motioning to himself. you & miguel bow towards your sensei. ❝ face each other, bow, ❞ you both do as he instructs, then get into fighting positions: hanmi for you, & miguel going for his natural stance—but he looks half-surprised, half-amused at your stance; he hadn't been anticipating that. he grins at you, & you smirk back at him, just a little bit. it's clear you're both pumped.

[casspurrjoybell-22]

Dream Eater - Chapter 5 - Part 2

*Warning Adult Content*

The first thing I'm aware of is the bare branches of trees overhead, laced like skeletal fingers against a flat white sky.

I blink a few times, feeling the hard earth under my back and the dampness of leaf-mold rising from the ground.

The second thing I'm aware if is that I can't breathe.

My whole body is paralyzed and my lungs are locked somewhere between an in-breath and an exhalation.

In my mind, I'm struggling wildly but my body betrays nothing of my distress, remaining motionless as the corpse it's about to become.

Damien leans into my field of vision, frowning down at me.

"Fuck," he says, matter-of-factly.

Then he kisses me or that's what I think until I feel my lungs inflate with the air of his breath.

It's enough to break whatever had me in its grip and I sit up, coughing violently.

"Breathe, breathe," he says, in a surprisingly soothing tone, rubbing his hand between my shoulders. "You're alright."

When I've got my breath enough to speak, I put the ability to immediate use. 

"What the fuck was that?" I ask, going for calm but coming off a little shriek. "Who were those people, who are you and..."

I glance around at the less-than-urban surroundings.

"Where the fuck are we?"

Infuriatingly, he laughs.

"Let me see... teleportation... a bunch of assholes... Damien Knight... and..." he takes stock of our environs. "The Forest of Dean, Gloucestershire, England."

"England?" I squeak and he smirks.

"What? Where did you want to go?"

I hold up my hands.

"No, no. England is fine." 

I don't know if full-body paralysis is a normal reaction to teleportation or a one-off thing but I'm not eager to find out.

His smile widens to a grin for a brief moment before disappearing like smoke on the wind. 

"I'm sorry," he says. "I've been a fool and now you're caught in the snare of my mistakes."

"I don't understand," I say, feeling lost.

"Don't you?" he looks at me, and his dark eyes are wells leading straight to a hell of despair.

"Not really," I say. "I mean, I gather I was right about you being Fallen and that something bad happened to you and those other Fallen were after you for something... but that's about it."

He sighs and runs his hands through his hair.

Then he shifts himself so we're sitting back to back, leaning against one another.

The leaves under us are dry and brown and the forest is quiet, in a peaceful-but-creepy kind of way.

"My name is... no. My name was Dantalian. I commanded many legions of Fallen and was generally held in good favor by the Higher Powers. That is, until I met him," he swallows and his voice grows tight. "Sakariel," he pauses and I wait. 

When he continues, he voice is quiet and desolate as winter. 

"Sakariel was my grace. He was beauty. He was Divine. I should never have fallen in love with him but I did and then, by some perverse miracle, he fell in love with me. I think I know why, now. He was insane," he swallows hard and his voice is softer when he goes on.

"He had this plan to overthrow everything. He wanted a new system. Laws based on 'fairness' of all things. On merit. He hated the cold calculations that under-lie the Universe. The math of chances, of impartial fate. He wanted something better. Something kinder," he sighs.

"He went too far. Challenged the Highest Throne. They killed him for it and as for me, my punishment was..."

"To live and remember," I supply, thinking of his dreams and he nods.

"Finally, I escaped here, to this Realm. I possessed a suitable body, sealed my memories and hoped I'd live a normal human life-span in peaceful oblivion but some memories just can't be kept down and the dreams started."

"And then, me," I say.

"I'm sorry. I guess this is my fault. If I hadn't told you I was dream-eater, you might never have suspected you were anything but human and those other Fallen would never found you. I'm guessing they tracked you somehow?"

"Yes. When I used my power, it was like a beacon drawing them right to me."

He leans his head back so it rests on my shoulder.

"Don't blame yourself for that. You had no way of knowing and it's my fault for handling it all so badly in the first place."

I can't really argue with that, so I say nothing.

"What will you do now?" I ask.

I feel him peel himself away from my back and turn to look.

He's watching me, eyes dark beneath perfectly winged brows.

"You mean, what will we do now?" he asks.

This time, there's no mistaking it when he kisses me.

He pushes me back into the soft layers of fallen leaves and his mouth is hot and devouring against mine.

Momentarily overcome, I arch against him, giving in to instinct and desire.

I feel him, hot and hard through his clothes between my legs and for a moment all I want is for him to fuck me, here in the open, under the shadows of strange trees.

Then a sliver of sense returns and I push him away.

"Stop. I can't."

He raises himself and rolls away from me, sitting up and grasping his head in his hands.

"I'm sorry," he says. "I'm sorry. You... you remind me of him. Of my Sakariel. Before everything went to shit. Before..." he draws a ragged breath.

"I'm sorry."

Wonderful. A Prince of Hell on the rebound and he lands on me.

"It's okay," I say, putting a hand to his shoulder. "I just... I'm not ready for... whatever that was."

He looks up at me and suddenly he looks more familiar.

More like the rich asshole... Damien Knight... who first hired me to take care of his nightmares.

"Let's get out of here. What d'you say?"

I nod.

"Sure."

He takes my hand and helps me to my feet.

Then he sets off through the trees, seemingly without a doubt about where he's going.

After a moment of rapid-fire reality-checking, I follow.

We walk and walk.

I always thought England was all cities and gardens and cute villages but this forest seems endless.

Finally, we find a road and then a little town.

By the time we're among real streets and buildings, I'm tired, hungry and willing to do just about anything for a drink of water.

"Did you manage to hang on to any of that money I gave you?" Damien asks.

"Yeah."

I pull out one of the envelopes of cash from the back pocket of my jeans.

I don't know what happened to the other.

I hand it to him.

"Okay. Let's see if there's a bank or travel agency that will change it for us. Then... well, we'll go from there."

I catch his arm.

"Listen, Damien or whoever you are, I just want to go home. I... I'm just a dream-eater. Whatever's going on with you, it's way above my pay-grade."

He grabs my jaw, none-too gently.

"No, you listen, little bird, I get it. You're scared. Well, believe it or not, so am I. And right now, I'm your best chance of getting out of this alive. So shut up and do as I say and maybe... just maybe... I'll get you back to your meaningless, empty but comfortably familiar existence, in one piece. Okay?"

My eyes sting.

'Little bird' is what Dante calls me.

Whether he knows this somehow or it's just coincidence is beyond me but it strikes me like a knife in the chest.

I nod, doing my best not to let him see my tears.

"Good," he says, letting me go and turning away.

There's something of pain in the set of his shoulders but he sets off towards the nearest bank without another word. 

I wait on the street, leaning against the side of the building.

A few minutes later, Damien returns, hands in the pockets of his long coat.

"Did they let you change the money?" I ask and he casts me a glance with no smile.

"Yeah. Come on. Let's find a place to stay. Then we'll plan our next move."

"Damien. I..."

He sets off down the street, not waiting for me.

We pass two, three, then four perfectly good inns and hostels before I start to lag behind.

My body is tired and I'm short of breath.

"Hey... can we... stop for a minute?" I call, addressing Damien's back. He glances back over his shoulder at me.

"No. We're almost there."

I grit my teeth but force myself to keep moving.

My definition of 'almost there' is clearly not the same as his because we walk for at least as long again as we already have, before he stops.

[famiglia-lealta]

"I'm just saying, why do you think out of all the sins, pride is my biggest weakness?" Neri asked, trying to keep the discussion impartial, but there was a definite note of frustration layering her voice.

"Because it's extremely fucking obvious." Squalo rolled his eyes, turning around to face the woman. He couldn't even be annoyed at her by how funny she looked - the much smaller woman with her hands on her hips, lips pursed, trying to look intimidating. Absolutely hilarious.

"Sure, maybe with a pinch of envy thrown in about wanting that head pat about a job well done, but you strut around the place throwing Salvai this and Salvai that, like that even means something. So your pops worked some medical branch up from the ground, big fucking deal! Do you know how many people around here give a shit about anything that isn't firepower or a weapon?"

Neri bristled at that, an indignant red beginning to creep over her cheeks. "Excuse you, I do not strut--"

"Like the whole papa pride party is one thing, but you only have to look at how you get on with your fellow officer." Squalo mocked, gesturing a hand out to the people around them, like that should have been example enough. "Someone gives you an order, fine, whatever. You gotta do your job, gotta play nice with the big boys. But if I said you couldn't do something, some jab at what you're capable of - you know you'd be strapping on your big girl backpack and rushing out to prove everybody wrong."

By this stage, the wind was beginning to become jostled out of her souls, Neri looking a little less confident in her arguments. "Well, I-- I do want to prove that I'm capable, but-- but you're no different!"

"Yeah, I know I'm not. Difference being, I know what I am. I don't bother trying to bullshit around it." Squalo shot back sharply, leaning slightly to jab a finger against Neri's chest. "The moment someone calls you out on anything like this, you either get all fucking huffy--"

"Or you run."

"That's what shitty pacifists do." Xanxus added to the conversation as he walked past them, another bottle of alcohol in his hand. Neri visibly flinched as he stopped, looking over his shoulder with that ruthless red-eyed stare. "When it gets too tough - you put your tail between your legs. Pride be damned if it involves actually fighting, eh, trash?"

"I'm.. I'm not.." Neri lowered her head as Xanxus continued on, hunching her shoulders. "I'm not a coward.. and I'm not a hypocrite, I.. am I really like that..?"

Eyeing off his boss, Squalo gave a disgusted sigh, lightly punching Neri in the side of the head, startling her. "For the record. Pride isn't a bad thing - it only becomes a weakness if you let it. If you weren't a stubborn pain in the ass, you wouldn't be nearly as fun to tease, y'know."

"Oh, sure. That makes me feel so much better." Neri muttered sarcastically under her breath, but the slightest beginnings of a smile tugged at her lips. "..Squalo. You're always honest, sometimes brutally so. Do you think everything you outlined.. does that make me weak?"

The assassin remained silent for a minute, regarding her with a scrutinizing squint. Then he reached down again, and flicked her nose with a finger. "If you were weak, piccolo sole, this line of work would have already eaten you for breakfast. You think too much; especially about needing to prove anything to even be here. You're already here."

And I wouldn't want it any other way.

Chuckling and smiling wider now, Neri rubbed at her nose and gave a good natured scowl at him. "You know, I really don't recall it being listed anywhere that the Varia conducted character assassinations."

"Nah, course not. It's in the fine print. Can't let 'em know all our trade secrets." Squalo grinned, ruffling the woman's hair and automatically tilting his chin back a fraction to avoid the hand aimed at his face. "Oi! Not very pacifistic of you, brat!"

"I'm off duty, jerk!"

And as the two of them continued squabbling and making the odd endearing snark at one another, Xanxus leant against the wall, taking a large swig from his bottle. For just a fraction, his brow furrowed, before turning on his heel and stalking away.

[thedeliverygod]

Repostober: Day 25

A fic where Yato feels the need to apologize/make up for the wrongs of his father, so he specifically asks Hiyori to vent anything she had left unresolved in regards to him.

Mortal Sins

“You’re kind of worrying me, acting so serious.” Hiyori let out a nervous laugh as Yato sat across from her in her room, his legs folded underneath him and giving her a very intent stare.

“Well, it is a serious topic.” He answered back, his voice quiet.

She settled into a sitting position as well, trying to ignore the unsettled feeling in her stomach as she replied, “Okay. I’m listening.”

“I want to make up for everything my dad did. And I know that’s… impossible, to say the least. But I at least want to give you the opportunity to let your feelings out, whatever they may be. Hiiro’s gotten the chance to change and work towards becoming a better person but, Dad…” He looked off to the side, “We all know there was never really going to be any sort of apologies or effort to make amends, even if given the chance. And he’s gone now, so… That’s why I’m trying to make up for it. Since I’m not completely impartial to everything he did, either. I did the same for Yukine.”

Hiyori bit her lip, “And what did he do?”

“Whacked me on the back of the head and told me I was stupid.” Yato answered with a small grin.

She tried to smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes as she hummed in acknowledgement, “Hmm.”

He scooted forward slightly, “So do your worst. Yell, scream, cry. Jungle savate me. If you have any unresolved feelings, take them out on me. I want to do what I can.”

As Hiyori started to move forward, he seemed to tense and her heart sank even more. “Unresolved feelings?” She repeated, just above a whisper.

“Yeah. Whatever you need to do.” He nodded eagerly.

She crawled on her knees and stopped just in front of him, gently grabbing on to his shoulder with one hand and cradling his face with the other.

He gave her a confused look, but remained still until she pressed her lips against his. “Hiyo..ri? Were you in love with the Fujisaki kid before you found out who he was?”

Her shoulders falling and her expression turning into a deadpan, she scooted backwards, “Yukine is right, you are stupid.”

“Huh?” He continued to stare at her, wide eyed.

“The kiss was for you.” She held on tighter to his shoulder, “What your father did is his fault alone, not yours. I’m not blaming you for any of it. They’re not your sins to carry.” Tilting her head, she joked, “Besides, I thought gods couldn’t sin, anyway.”

Yato was breathless, staring at her in awe. Finally, he reached behind her and pulled her crushingly tight to his chest, answering, “You’re right.” Leaning backward, he asked, “But also, what do you mean for me?”

Her cheeks heating up, she asked, “Do I really have to spell it out for you?” Avoiding his eyes, she repeated again, “You mentioned if I had unresolved feelings, so…”

“Oh.” He answered automatically at first and then again, with understanding, “Oh.”

“So you get it now?” Her eyes flickered back to him sheepishly.

“Y-yeah.” He nodded, his cheeks turning red as well.

She started to lean in back towards him, “Good.”

“Wait, wait, wait.” He put his hand in between them frantically, his eyes peering into hers, “Are you sure this is okay?”

“You’re asking me? I really should be asking you.” Hiyori shrank away, “I mean, I already ki-kissed you just now—but if you don’t feel that way, that’s okay.”

Yato reached out to grasp her arm, pulling her back gently, “Hiyori.” She wouldn’t look up at him, too embarrassed, so he took hold of her hand instead.

His lips barely grazed her knuckle as he pulled her hand towards him, but it was enough to make her feel like every hair on her body was standing up straight. As he continued talking, she looked up shyly.

“I don’t really have the words to explain how I feel about you.” He gripped her hand tighter, “But I also don’t want to be selfish. I know being around me tends to cause a lot of hardships, despite my best efforts. I guess I just want to make sure that you’re really sure you want to cross this line. Because I’m not sure if we can really go back once we have.”

She could feel his hands growing clammy hand his voice shook as he finished. Wrapping her free hand around his arm and pulling their hands toward her, she answered without hesitation, “I’m sure.” She nuzzled her cheek against his hand.

He was quiet for a moment before she heard him answer, “Then I guess it’s my turn.”

“What?” She let go of his hand in surprise and quickly found that he was hovering over her, only mere inches apart. “Oh.”

Yato gave a small laugh and she felt him still smiling as his lips met hers, extremely soft.

She kissed him back, slowly and unsure in her motions but she figured she had found at least somewhat of a rhythm when he started to kiss her harder, more desperately. She grabbed his scarf and the fabric of his jersey underneath as she leaned in closer against him, her other hand reaching into his now tangled hair. His hands mostly stayed at her waist and back, holding her so tightly it was if he believed that she would disappear at any moment. In a moment of braveness and eagerness to prove she wasn’t going anywhere, she gently licked at his lower lip.

His eyes immediately flew open and he pulled away, taking a large breath before explaining, “Whoa, hey. That’s enough for now. I don’t think I can handle any more excitement for tonight.”

Hiyori giggled in response, joking, “What are you, like twelve?”

“You can’t even begin to understand the effect you have on me Iki Hiyori.” Yato winked before he untangled himself from her, standing up and offering his hand downward, “And where do you get off acting like you’re more experienced anyway?”

“I was just joking, obviously.” She continued to grin, rolling her eyes.

“Hmm.” He hummed and leaned forward towards her shoulder.

She raised an eyebrow as he moved closer to her ear, wondering why he wanted to whisper something when they were already alone. Just as she was about to ask what he was doing, she felt him suckling on the skin right beneath her ear and felt a jolt shoot through her body. She immediately jumped away, but not before making a noise that had him smirking and her turning dark red.

“There, we’re even.” He rubbed his hands together in success.

Hiyori growled in response, “Don’t you have a job to do or something?”

“Phone hasn’t rang.” He took it out of his pocket and swung it back and forth a few times. “But I’m sure Yukine can find something for me to do if I’ve overstayed my welcome.”

Letting out a breath of air, she shook her head, “You’re fine. You can stay for a bit if you want, but…” She sat on her bed before collapsing backwards, “I definitely need to recover from this whirlwind.”

Yato followed after her, kneeling over the edge of the bed and looking down at her with a soft smile, “I’ll go ahead and leave, then.” He bent down to kiss her forehead and as he lifted his head, her arms reached up to pull him to her lips.

“You can go now.” She smiled widely as he looked down at her in awe once again, “I swear I was just keeping it to one kiss this time.”

He took a moment to slide off her bed, reminding himself, “Work, yeah. Gotta go to work.”

“I’ll see you soon.” Hiyori flashed another quick smile and he nodded.

“Bye for now.”

As he vanished into a bright light, she wondered if he felt as much on cloud nine as she did. If his incoherent mumbling before he left was any sign, it seemed like his brain was complete mush too. “Sorry, Yukine-kun. He’s probably not gonna be much help today…” She gave an apologetic smile as she thought out loud, reaching out to hug her pillow to her chest.

[immobiliter]

       It was an odd sensation, to grieve over someone she had never known, and yet had known on some level better than anyone. Someone who was a part of her, the divinity that had been separated from her humanity a long time before she had been consciously aware of the loss; the divinity that she had never possessed but had tried to imitate for the past five hundred years. Like a limb with the blood supply cut off, now completely severed from the rest of her body, Focalors' absence had always been a hallmark of her time masquerading as Fontaine's archon. On plenty of occasions, Furina had quietly yelled and wept and railed to the skies themselves in the hope that she would once again appear in her mirror and offer much needed guidance. Her pleas had always been met with silence. No guidance, no reassurance, nothing at all.

       For all that suffering and all that pain, she should perhaps not have grieved the loss at all. And yet Furina still did. For she was only alive and free, Fontaine was only alive and free because Focalors had made the sacrifice necessary to ensure it.

       Neuvillette spoke and, while it was a relief to repeat his words over and over in her head ( you did not fail them. you did not fail them. not now, not for the past five hundred years ), Furina quickly recognised the remorse lingering in the Chief Iudex's tone. Her lips parted and she shook her head slightly, but could not quite find the words to counter him, not at first. The truth, after all, was a slippery thing that she had avoided at all costs for years. It would take time to grow accustomed to speaking plainly. No deflections, no clever wordplay, no deception.

       The suitcase on the desk behind her, half-packed, remained forgotten about. The startled animal inside of her, itching to bolt at the first opportunity, had calmed. Her gaze was focused on Neuvillette, weary and tentative, but engaged.

       “ You were right to hold me to account, Neuvillette. I was your archon. ” Was. How strange that was to say after everything, after days and weeks of swearing the opposite was true. Even the phrase itself felt foreign and uncomfortable on her tongue. She wrung her hands together in front of her. “ I was supposed to have all the answers. I was supposed to stop the flood in Poisson. You cannot blame yourself for believing me when that is what I have tricked you into doing for all these years. ”

       He had wielded justice exactly as he ought, and exactly as he always had for the past four hundred years: reasonable, impartial, and quietly uncompromising. Whether the defendant was one of the Fleuve Cendre beggars, or an influential member of the Court, Neuvillette had never once let any emotion, sentiment or bias cloud his judgement. While Furina might have longed for his sympathy in the moment, accused and alone on the stand as her entire nation turned on her, it was an ordeal that she did not blame him for. He was acting in Fontaine's best interest, even if the outcome of said trial ended up very different to what he expected.

       Furina spoke again, in a much smaller voice this time — trying a smile in order to force down the upset that welled in her throat at the memory. “ But I think I should never like to stand on a stage like that ever again. ”

       Whatever her future — and that was a huge, gaping maw of despair that she would not, could not be drawn into right now — it would not involve the stage, nor any vestiges of the sham life she had endured for the past five centuries. Of that, she was certain.

       She drew a long breath, once again letting the weight of Neuvillette's explanation wash over her like a wave. It brought clarity and reassurance but, as the pieces came together it became more difficult not to let her mind put together the bigger picture all on her own. The Hydro Archon, dead. Neuvillette, the Hydro Dragon, summoned into the Oratrice to meet her before her death. It could be no coincidence. “ I know my role in all this, but... what role did she intend for you to play? If there is no longer a Hydro Archon, then Celestia no longer holds the seat, which surely means... ” She paused, searching his eyes once more for confirmation. “ I know we've never spoken about it — not truthfully, anyway — but the reason I invited you to serve as Fontaine's Iudex is because it was what Focalors wished to happen. It was in her head, so it was in mine. I did not know why you needed to be here. I thought it a test, but I am starting to think I was wrong about that, too. ”

"Yes." Furina needn't even finish her train of thought, for the Iudex to complete it, barely a whisper - yet one that resonated all too loudly in the quiet of this soon-to-be-empty room. Yes, Focalors is dead, struck down by her own machination, the ultimate plan to take down the Hydro Archon and her seat along with her. Leaving behind her, a nation that remains in the dark as to the unimaginable truth behind their rescue, and her two most precious, dearest pawns. Two beings older than any Fontainian could fathom; yet, in this room, in the aftermath of tragedy, little more than two orphans, left without guidance by a parent believing more than they do that they shall fly all on their own. "I'm sorry."

What are they meant to do now, after the curtain fall, after the dawn of their very final performance? Neuvillette knows (roughly) where his duties and priorities now lie, his authority returned, and his mission along with it, but Furina... draconic eyes remain on the former Archon (she looks so tired - no, exhausted, in the way only an existential void can induce), incapable of concealing the sorrow quietly seeping in an ancient soul that mourns for her.

Outside the windows of her room, a light drizzle begins to trickle down the glass panels - another one of those raining spells Fontaine has grown so accustomed to, charged with an inexplicable sense of melancholy, accompanied by the chants of blissfully unaware children, calling for an ancient mythical dragon to not cry.

But Furina speaks again, and her words feel like knives shoved directly into his heart; and what pours out, instead of bloods, is boundless regret and remorse. He had heard it all from Focalors, of course, but to hear Furina reiterate her ignorance over the true Archon's entire plan, for five hundred years... by what miracle had his legs not given out under him, as Focalors had revealed the greatest trick in her arsenal to him, as he had felt his heart drop down an endless pit in his chest upon realising the horror of it all, the Iudex will never know. Fingers grip tighter around the head of his cane, a sigh passing the edge of his lips. She deserves an explanation. More than anyone, more than even him, she deserves to know the meaning of her suffering.

"You did not fail them, Furina. Not once. Not at this trial, not for the past five hundred years." The dragon of water speaks too, one more judgement delivered (does she even want it? from him, of all people?), one tentative step taken towards her (he dares not draw too near, for fear of scaring her away - after everything, she would be entitled to it). "This trial... the responsibility falls entirely on my shoulders. I grew too concerned about the prophecy about to pass, too impatient over the secrets I knew you were keeping, and in the midst of this turmoil, I... I failed to see the truth of it all." A shaky sigh, once more. "And that... is a regret I will carry for the rest of my existence. I am so, so sorry, Furina."

But alas, how are his apologies meant to alleviate the pain he had caused, when this very trial had been exactly the one Focalors had instructed her to wait for, all those years ago? The cruelty of the irony is agonising. Cruelty had never been Focalors' intention, but... what else is he meant to call what he had made himself complicit to? " ... I only realised you knew nothing of her plans when I spoke to her within the Oratrice." He resumes, nonetheless. He knows more than she does now - another injustice, and one he shall rectify this very instant. She deserves that of him, at the very least.

"All this time, I was convinced that you knew more about the prophecy than I did... it is only when Focalors spoke to me, that I realised you had been kept in the dark, as much as each and every one of us had been." Waiting for a miracle, searching for a miracle, this entire time. How many sleepless nights of reading old history material and hydrolic reports had he caught her indulging in? "But she told you the truth, at least, in that the people's belief in you would be the key to the prophecy undoing - that upholding the role bestowed upon you was the only way of ensuring the prophecy would come to pass... and simultaneously fail. And for her plan to succeed, there was no other choice... but to keep you and me both in the dark as to the real parts she needed us to play. She had us both fooled, this entire time - only to ensure the Hydro Archon would have her trial."

Farewell, Neuvillette, her voice resonates in his ears, still - his throat closing on grief that will not give him rest. I hope you've enjoyed the part you played these five hundred years.

"She was a devious one... and it pains me to admit it, but... I do not think she had any other choice."

[refairy]

Ashanti.....Peter Parker in hand cuffs???? Yes

Having to get reinforced handcuffs cause he is super strong???? Yes

Him still breaking those ones cause he wants to touch reader so bad??? Yes

Him spending ages in the lab designing hand cuffs he wont break so he can really and truly be helpless under reader??? Yes

Impartiality settles over you like a crisp, blank sheet, the pendulous sway of the handcuffs beguiling Peter enough to lure him away from the point he was attempting to make.

“We’ve already established that these are useless against you,” you remark after Peter’s beseeching love-me eyes search yours for any sign of approval.

The last couple of times handcuffs had been implemented they’d met a premature demise thanks to Peter’s superhuman strength. You had upgraded from flimsy handcuffs, layered with tufts of soft fur to ones that were the real deal— something that Peter had issues coming to terms with when asked where he had got them from. After his cadence had risen into something high-pitched you were pretty sure that he had taken them from somewhere he shouldn’t have. You had articulated your thoughts amusedly then, precipitating Peter to defensively cry out, ‘c’mon, they’re not gonna miss two pairs of handcuffs.’

“I think they’ll work this time,” he says assuredly, hand reaching out to grab the handcuffs swinging in your grasp.

Pulling your hand just out of his reach, you curiously glance at the handcuffs and ask, “Why? What’s special about these ones?”

“I might’ve been working on ‘em,” he shrugs. “Had some spare time, so I thought why not.”

“You don’t have spare time,” you deadpan, recalling the recent memories of Peter obliquely slipping in through the window like a thief in the night, exhaustion reaping out of his mouth with every breath he took.

“I have some,” he objects half-heartedly.

“Did you stay up late to make these?” You ask incredulously, piling the augmented cuffs on top of one another and gauging their weight. The mass feels familiar to you, so you assume whatever enhancements Peter had made didn’t affect the initial heaviness.

Peter remains silent.

“Peter…”

“I couldn’t sleep, I was just thinking about if they had worked!”

“So you, what? Spent time trying to make better cuffs so you could get off properly. Is that all you know what to do?”

His face goes hot, the color clambers high atop the sculpt of his cheeks and to the tips of his ears.

Your hand moves to palm him over his pants, he closes the distance between you, a knee carefully parting your legs to rest in between the apex of your thighs. “All you can do is think with your dick.”

“I just,” he gasp-moans out. Peter slots his head into the interstice of your neck, the ridged slope of his nose nudging at the skin there as you make quick work of him. He tries to provide a smidgen of friction with the occasional brush of his knee against your clothed cunt— you allow it; pressing your searing heat into him.

“‘I just’ what? You use all of that big brain on making these,” you jangle the cuffs in your other hand, “that you lost the mental capacity to answer a simple question?”

You retract your hand and he whines, lifting his hips to chase after your hand. You push him back onto the bed, bracketing his toned body between your legs, imposing upon his personal space. You run your hands up the expanse of his chest before nestling into the crest of his hardness. Shaking the cuffs, you gesture your head upwards and Peter promptly lifts his hands over his head to cater to you.

Both handcuffs click shut once you have them around the circumference of Peter’s wrists and you tug at them to make sure they’re sturdy.

“How’s that?”

Peter tugs, repeating your motion with a significant amount of exertion. There’s a cacophonous rattle against the bed frame but otherwise, the pair of cuffs remain intact. He smiles. “Good.”

You return his smile, leaning forward to brush your finger along the crevices of a pair, then you lay down, a cool cheek anchoring itself to his feverish abdomen, hands going under his back to envelop him into a warm embrace. Peter’s breathing slows down, he has become hyper-vigilant and does not want to rouse you from your ephemeral repose. He allows you to clasp around him; he’s the sepia-toned photograph in your love-heart-shaped locket.

“Are you tired?” Peter reluctantly queries after a brief moment of tranquility. “We can do this whenever, it doesn’t have to be now.”

“No,” you murmur, diaphanous fingers caressing up the contours of his body. “Just wanted to touch you like this.”

You consider him for a moment, his arousal pressed into you intimately and you sit up. He compartmentalizes his presumed inconsequential thoughts and desires for your transitory comfort and your heart fills with angel-light at the thought of it.

You languidly stretch beneath a honeyed patch of sun that pilfers through the fissures of the blinds, then you look at him. Peter is already looking at you. His eyes are aglow with fathomless adoration.

Trailing your fingers down, you take him into your hand. Peter’s eyes give an avian flutter, eyelashes soft on the peak of his cheekbones. He mumbles your name and you lean down, licking up his stomach. You feel it contract and grin.

“Take off your clothes,” Peter chokes out.

“Do it yourself,” you counter. You can’t keep the smile at bay and soon after a laugh vacates you.

“Funny. You’re a real comedian.” He tugs at the chain, you hear it rattle, and your heartbeat hammers in your cunt. Your head snaps up to where he is tethered and then slowly trail to meet his eyes with an excited gleam in yours. Break them and see what happens.

You pump your hand on his cock, his hips involuntary twitch into your palm and you exponentially increase the pace.

“Oh fuck, oh my God, just like that,” Peter’s voice wavers, and his eyes roll back, barely able to stay open. He writhes, arches up into your grip, spilling cobweb-white fluid into your hand.

“You got another in you? Yeah, you can give me one more,” you demand of him without waiting for his answer, there is no additional reprieve extended to him, a light touch drifting to the head of his length. You’re careful not to add pressure yet.

“Yeah, yeah… Take it,” he moans, canting his hips up a little to spur you on. “Wanna give you everything.”

You tease him, feather-light touches to the subdued vein on his length, to the tip of his cock. He shudders.

And then, there’s the pressure, you circle your hand around him tightly and he whimpers. You’re merciless, no inkling of teasing this time around and he’s thrashing about, the cacophony of the handcuffs and his unfettered sounds coalesce. It’s hard to tell which is louder, but you’re placing your bets on Peter with his gradual loudness.

He cries out your name, hips writhing and twisting out of your grasp, “‘s too much! I can’t, I can’t! Stop, stop!”

You pull him back by the leg and push his stomach down onto the bed with your free hand. You slap his thigh as an admonition: don’t move. “What happened to ‘take it,’ huh? Why’d you bring these handcuffs in? For decoration? Just like your pretty head,” you sneer. 

“I can’t,” he wails hysterically, you can’t determine whether he’s trying to push you off or bring himself into your touch with the way his hips are thrusting up, the discordance of the cuffs is grating on your nerves. He yanks at them over and over, voice unreservedly wrecked.

You hold him down. “You said you could and you will.”

A guttural whine stretches out from his throat and with one final jerk, the sound of creaking metal reaches your ears before you jolt at the subsequent raucous clang, prompt in releasing him from your hand.

You blink, slowly processing what he had done.

“You broke my bed frame.” Any modicum of inflection withdrawn from your tone. There is no sentiment eclipsing your face. You can’t even muster the energy to be shocked— things always went awry when handcuffs were brought into the picture.

“I’m so sorry,” he says apologetically, “I’ll buy you a new one,” he promises, handcuffed hands still firmly attached to the frame.

“Peter,” you throw him an exasperated look, shuffling to your bedside table to gather a bunch of tissues, “you have no money.”

“I have… I have money,” he insists with little conviction, a wistful glance directed to where you’re wiping away the remnants of his release.

“Great,” you roll your eyes. “I’ll be looking forward to my new bed then.”

[  share your spider-man / peter parker thirsts 💌.  ]

[420pogpills]

yesterday i had a lot of trouble trying to understand why i was feeling so numb and empty. i was trying to understand why i was so hurt by dream's actions because he admitted to sending the cringey flirty messages. and i was struggling to understand why i couldn't get past this when i saw the messages myself and didn't really believe they were of predatory nature.

and today i finally realised the reason i feel this way is not only because of dream's actions - but also because of my own. because i realised that my skepticism from the very beginning was based around believing that this was so out of character for dream, and that he wouldn't do this, that's he's better than this, that more than likely this is fabricated... only to then have him admit that the messages were real, that he was personally contacting his own fucking fans of all people.. and yesterday his defence villainized these girls so heavily, and he wrote paragraphs upon paragraphs of words that had no real meaning... and with that i think i actually suddenly came back down to earth and realised i do not know this man at all. because not only did i never believe he would say the things he said in that twit longer - i never even fully believed he was actually contacting his fans in such a manner.

your own fucking fans dude. the young girls who would happily do whatever you wanted them to, if it meant getting your attention. as if that is not the first, most basic fucking rule in the book - that relationships between fans and the person they are a fan of will NEVER be impartial or equal. regardless of the nature of the conversations - they happened, and when we begged him to address it and we begged him to prove to us we weren't wrong for having trust in him.. he posts a whole essay where he danced around the topic and blamed everyone but himself.

now i know that this is what's really hit me the hardest. and this is why i don't believe i can come back from this and feel the same way about him again. because he betrayed more than just the girls he was speaking to. he betrayed all of us who never believed he would do that. he betrayed all of his friends, who i am hoping and praying from the bottom of my fucking heart did not know about any of this, and now it's going to heavily impact them too. especially george - he literally packed up his fucking life to move to a whole new country for dream.. and now i have lost all trust not only in dream, but in all of his friends too, because if i don't know who dream actually is as a person, how the fuck can i trust everyone else in that circle?

as of right now, i cannot see myself supporting dream now nor in the future. who knows if that will change, i like to believe everyone is capable of change. but i think a part of me knows that i'm never getting that same level of trust back that i had in him. on that same note, i am not condemning any of his friends with the hope that they were unaware of this, but i am most definitely taking a step very far back and taking my time deciding what i want to do next.

i will say i won't regret being a part of this community. because like red said - WE created this community, not dream. dream is not here on tumblr, we built this ourselves. and i have gotten to speak to some of the kindest, funniest, most amazing people i have ever had the pleasure of meeting. and i am so so hopeful that i will be able to remain in contact with at least some of you.

i will keep this blog, and most likely be re-branding like i've seen a lot of people do - and i want to remain to see the outcome too, because i feel like i really need to see this through. to everyone i've ever met on here - i fucking love you, and thank you for some of the happiest memories i've ever made in the last couple of years.

take care of yourselves ❤️

[northisnotup]

"Fuck you." / "I'm flattered, really, but no thanks." for the prompts?? 👀

It was easier than it should have been. The thought's been haunting him. Through the fight, through fleeing the city, through the twisting backroads to the second getaway car he hid away in the bush.

There'd hardly been any security at the manor.

Halfway through wiping down the steering wheel, Damen took a precious second to roll his eyes. Arles Manor. What a pretentious name for a pretentious estate for a pretentious family. But still, a family like that, they had money and secrets and the necessity to hide both. There should have been security. Well, he tongued his split lip with a grimace. More security.

A thump from the car next to him drew his attention.

Swinging the backdoor open, he dodged the kicking feet aimed at his stomach. "Hey," he said, mildly.

Furious blue eyes stared up at him, teeth bared around the gag in a snarl as his whole body strained against the bonds that wrapped his arms to his sides like a straight jacket and his legs together from knees to bare feet.

Damen had been warned well enough, and paid well enough, to take no chances.

Clearly he'd been warned well. Already, the gag that had started out tight around his captive's head had been wiggled down enough to provide slack. Shit. Middle of the night or not, driving around with someone bound in the backseat was a risk. A risk that increased significantly if that someone could yell at any point.

Catching his captive's legs, Damen tried to remain impartial as he checked over the flexing ankles and pointing toes. Not discoloured and with full movement. Very good movement. He frowned, considering the hassle he would have to go through to cover them in socks or shoes, compared to the risk that his captive could use them to pick anything up.

The car had been detailed after his last job, and there shouldn't be anything to be picked up, but that didn't mean there wasn't.

"We're about an hour and a half outside Arles." Damen said, and saw his captive tilt his head. "I'm telling you that so you know what a useless idea it is to scream." That being said, he closed the door and went around to the other side, choosing to loosen the gag from behind, rather than climb over a restrained man.

The first words his captive said were: “Whatever they’re paying you, my uncle -”

“Will pay me more?” Damen interrupted.

His captive frowned.

“It was weird, right? Waking up here. Really, you should have woke up a long time ago.”

“A tip, free, from me to you: measure your drugs out better.”

Damen wanted to lean in. He wanted to loom over the seething, furious man in his backseat. It wasn’t a good idea. Damen knew himself to be a bad man. Weak to a pretty face. Impulsive. Quick to anger. He had a kidnapped man in his backseat, for fucks sake and the single thought overwhelming him was how beautiful that man looked, wanting to tear Damen apart.

So he was a bad man. He wasn’t, however, stupid.

“I didn’t drug you at all, Laurent.” Damen only realized his captive had been fighting the bonds, wiggling slowly, inching them up or down, when he stopped moving entirely. “Quit that,” he snapped, and broke his own rule, leaning into Laurent’s space to readjust. Quick as a snake, Laurent shifted his weight and twisted, sinking his teeth into Damen’s unprotected neck.

“Son of a -!”

Wrenching back, Damen nearly hit his head on the low roof. He didn’t quite manage to catch himself before he was landing on his ass outside the car. “Bitch.”

“Fuck you,” Laurent snarled back.

“I’m flattered, really, but no fucking thanks.”

Slamming the car door shut, Damen hit the locks and stalked back over to finish the clean up, taking his phone out of his pocket as he did and dialing from memory.

“Damianos! How did it go? Is everything okay? Wh -”

“There was little to no security at the house. I took out another team on my way in. Armed to the teeth with Akelion weapons.”

“Is he…”

Damen sighed. “He’s fine, Auguste. You’re lucky I owe you one. Are you sure -”

“He won’t believe you until he sees me with his own eyes.”

There’d been a glass on the nightstand, Damen remembered. It looked like water. Bars on the windows. A door that locked from the outside. Not an environment that bred trust, true enough. “Thanks for the tip, by the way.”

Auguste’s warm laughter tumbled through the phone. “Was it needed?”

Damen grimaced, and on principle refused to touch the wound on his neck, concentrating instead on wiping down the seats and velcro cleaning the shitty car carpet. “It might have been.”

“I told you! You will need to restrain him well! None of your softhearted hands and feet nonsense.”

“He bit me.” Damen felt the need to complain.

“Then you did not prepare well enough. How soon -”

They planned for 20 hours, including stops. But they’d planned on a smash and grab, not 5 dead hitmen in the house of a politician with his nephew now missing and a drugged glass of water on the side table.

“14 hours. Provided we don’t kill each other.”

“Watch your back, and his, and Damen?”

Finished, Damen made an ‘I’m listening’ noise, throwing the cleaning supplies into the trunk.

“Good luck.”

“Don’t die before I get back,” Damen retorted, and hung up. He took the sim card from the phone and crushed it.

Okay. Alone with Laurent Revere for 14 hours. What could go wrong?

[thetardisisnotourdivision]

I don't even know what to say. Surprisingly I actually expected BETTER of this government when I first read the news, I thought that someone would say "this is OBVIOUSLY a bad idea and elections are soon, what are you on," but no. This is just disgusting on a whole other level. The whole country is screaming for an end to the genocide in Gaza, which apparently we have to remain impartial on, but whatever's going on in Yemen (I can't actually tell what their reasoning is), is apparently a good enough reason to bomb them. We can afford a war, but immigrants (FROM COUNTRIES THAT THIS COUNTRY IS BOMBING) are too expensive and should be locked up on unhygienic barges. I hate this government.

Start another war cuz they tried to stop a genocide. Holy fuck...

[dragon-kazansky]

Payback | Niki Lauda

Written just for @lieutenantn 💕💕💕

Tried to keep it gender neutral reader

I did my best, this is my first attempt at Lauda 🥺

SMUT!!!

It was incredibly hot. Even with all the doors and windows open it was incredibly hot. You couldn't let the heat affect you, you had somewhere to be.

You had no idea why he had called for you. Unless it was race day, he never needed you otherwise. Niki Lauda didn't ever call you out to his place. Why would he?

Yet, here you were, standing at his door waiting for him to answer. You were full of suspicion. You had no reason to be here.

The door opens and there stands Lauda, looking at you with that impartial expression on his face. He always looked at you like that. You waited for him to say something, but all he did was leave the door open. You sighed as you followed him inside, closing the door behind you.

You stare at his back as you wait for him to explain why he called you of all people here. He didn't say anything right away. You couldn't see his expression change as he thought over what he intended to do. He had no one else to ask this of, you were his only option.

This must be such a weird situation for you.

He turns and looks at you, letting out a sigh through his nose. His eyes were piercing.

You wait.

"I need you to do something for me. You're the only person I can ask."

You furrow your brow at him, crossing your arms and waiting for him to say more. He doesn't say anything right away, just watches you. Your patience is wearing thin, but you wait.

You did not need to deal with moody Niki.

"What do you need me to do?"

He looks at you, trying to read your expression. His tongue darts out and licks his lips as he adjusts his standing position and speaks.

"I need you to be my date this weekend."

You stare at him.

Those aren't words you expected to hear from him. Especially toward you. Niki Lauda didn't ever look at you twice.

"You need what?" You hiss, looking him up and down. Was he out of his mind?

"You heard me."

"Why do you need me to do that? Where is this coming from? Who are you and what have you done with the real Niki Lauda?"

He sighs and rolls his eyes, hands on his hips as he looks at you.

"It doesn't matter why. I just need you to do it. One day, that's all it is."

"All it is? Why are you asking this of me? And don't tell me it doesnt matter, you would never ask me up to your home to pull a favour like this."

He lowers his hands from his hips and narrows his eyes at you a bit.

"It's just for show. One day. That's all it is."

"Does this have something to do with Hunt?"

His silence says it all. It's your turn to sigh as you turn on your heel.

"I am not here to be used at your convenience, Lauda."

You walk back to the door. Just as you open it is claes again. Niki has his hand flat against it, having pushed it shut. You glare at him as you turn your head to look at him.

"Pick someone else Niki. Someone you can stand."

He stares at you. You can't tell what's going through his head, but you figure he has given in when he pushes off the door. You open it again, but are once again stopped, this time by his words.

"I can stand you."

You don't look at him. You scoff and shake your head.

"Lying doesn't change anything."

"I am not lying. I don't lie. Not to you."

You risk glancing back at him. His expression hasn't changed much, maybe a late softer around the eyes. For some reason that causes your heart to skip a beat or two.

"You never talk to me, not unless you have to."

"That doesn't mean I don't like you."

You close the door and turn to face him, watching him curiously. This is the most he's ever said to you, normally you're standing there on the sidelines until he has a purpose for you.

"What do I get if I do this?"

"What do you want?"

You think about it. You smile softly. He looks at you, waiting to hear what's on your mind.

"Lunch. You take me out for lunch."

"That's all?"

"Yeah, that's all."

You see his lip twitch a bit, but he doesn't smile completely. His eyes are softer on you though.

"Then it's a deal."

You nod. Niki tells you what he wants you to do and where to meet. You agree and leave his home, not thinking too much about this fake dating thing he has asked of you. He just wants to show up Hunt, that's all.

You put on your nicest outfit and meet him where he asked you to meet him. He picks you up, right on time, and you drive down to the event.

The house he pulls up outside of is very nice. Many other drivers are entering the building as you get out of the car.

Hunt's car is parked directly outside.

Niki offers you his arm and you both head inside. What an actress you become. Niki glances at the way you fall into the persona of his date for the evening.

The smile on your lips, the way you touch him, the way you look at him. He knew he could rely on you.

You both enter the house and people instantly come over to greet Lauda. You sort of cling to his side as they talk to him. Niki talks to them for a little bit, but is quick to find an excuse to leave with you. You looked a little overwhelmed.

"I don't see him," you say.

"Who?" He asks, momentarily forgetting the reason he had asked you to be here.

"James Hunt."

"Oh."

You glance around the room, but you don't see him at all. He must be here though, you saw his car outside.

"Well, this is unexpected."

You both turn. There he is.

"Didn't expect you if all people to be on his arm," Hunt looked between the pair of you.

"Why not?" Niki asked, already irritated.

"Because you're an asshole and they're not?" Hunt gave a condensing grin. You felt Niki's hand clench behind you where his hand was resting on your back.

Lauda very clearly wants to say something, but you beat him to it.

"He's not an asshole to me," you lie.

Hunt looks at you curiously.

"You sure about that? I've seen the way he ignores you. Don't think I haven't noticed you, Y/N."

"You know my name?" You ask, voice a little soft. You didn't think anyone paid much attention to you hanging about the races.

"Yeah, course I do. You're at every race. Always with him, but he doesn't pay attention to you."

Niki hadn't realised how much attention Hunt had been paying to you. He wouldn't have asked this if you if he knew. The fact that Hunt is even talking about him this way is pissing him off. Especially when he knows Hunt is telling the truth.

As much as Niki liked you, he definitely didn't give you much time of the day, no matter much time you spent with him.

"Things can change, Hunt."

James looked at him, unconvinced, but he also saw the way your hand was clutching Lauda's jacket.

"Maybe I am wrong."

You feel Niki's hand relax behind you.

A pretty young woman comes up to James and smiles at him. With Hunt now distracted, Niki leads you away. His hand was firm around you as he passed by everyone with ease. He took you into another room, almost rushing to get there.

"Where are we going?"

He doesn't answer your question as he closes the door to the empty room and looks at you.

"Do you hate me?" He asks.

"Hate you?"

"Yes, hate me. Do you hate me because of the way I have treated you? I am an asshole. I have always been one when it came to you, yet you stick around anyway. Why?"

You remain silent.

Niki steps up in front of you and looks at you. His gaze feels intense on you and suddenly you feel like you're standing outside his house in the blazing heat of the sun again.

"I don't hate you," you whisper.

"You don't?"

You shake your head. "No, I've never hated you, Niki. I admire you, even if you do act like an asshole sometimes."

"For whatever it is worth, I do like you, Y/N."

"Do you?"

"Yes."

He is standing so close. All you would have to do is pull him closer by the lapels of his jacket and he could be kissing you.

Suddenly you desired nothing more.

You eyes glance down to his lips. You watch the way they part slightly, knowing he was watching you.

He's kissing you before you can register anything else. It's quite heated, hungry. There's a feeling that he could have been resisting this for some time, but that can't possibly be.

He guides you back until your legs bump into the edge of a bed. You had been so lost in the fact Niki had rushed you off somewhere, you hadn't realised he had taking you to a bedroom.

His intention was just to find out how you really saw him, but this turned out better than he thought.

He had you lying back on the bed while he uncooked his belt. You looked up at him with eyes he couldn't quite read.

"You could tell me to stop and I could take you home. We could go back to how we were before," he says, hands hovering the waistband of his trousers.

You sit up slowly and keep your eyes locked on his as your hands do the rest of the work for him. His breathing hitches as you undress him, you don't look away from him as you drop his clothes to his ankles.

That's all the answer he needed.

He was over you again, your lips being claimed by his again. Your hands work at pushing his jacket away from his shoulders and tossing it to the floor. Only once they were done did you then let your fingers tangle in his curls.

Niki's hands work on your clothing. He won't be satisfied until you're in the same position as he is.

Now you're bare to him from the waist down.

"Who's bed is this?" You ask, whispering against his lips.

"I don't care," he replies, kissing you again.

The fingers of his left hand trail down between your legs and give you some well deserved attention. He was desperate to feel you in every way he possibly could.

He wanted you.

This was the payback for how he treated you. Everything was going to change after this. He would make it up to you.

You placed a hand to his cheek and looked at him with gentle eyes. He was eager for you, but he also found satisfaction in just looking at you for a moment.

He considered himself to be a very lucky man right at this moment.

He kisses you again, this time while pushing into you. He didn't want to wait any longer, plus, the longer you were both gone, the more suspicious it might seem to anyone who saw him earlier.

You gasped against his lips as you adjusted to him.

You never expected to end up here. A few days ago he wouldn't have looked at you twice. Now you're on a stranger's bed half naked.

He wasn't gentle. He wasn't here to be gentle. He had you clawing at the sheets under you, your head back, lips parted, all kinds of noises coming out. As much as he e enjoyed making your squirm under him, he needed you to be quiet. The music out there wasn't loud enough to block out sounds at all.

He places a hand over your mouth and looks at you. He shames his head silently. You nod, but he doesn't let go right away. When he does, you press a kiss to his palm before it leaves you completely.

The bed shakes as his thrusts become a little more sharp and violent against you. It's very hard trying to keep the noise level down, but you manage it.

Seeing you like this, it was etched into his brain. What a sight you were.

Your arms resting over his shoulders, fingers clawing in his hair and on his back. You want to feel him, touch him. Just the same he wanted of you.

All that time he spent pushing you to the side felt wasted. He could have had you so much sooner. Why did he wait for Hunt to push him over the edge to make this happen?

He kissed you. Again and again and again.

You were intoxicating to him.

You couldn't stop the mean from escaping you as he just hit the right spot. Oh God, the sound you were making, he wanted more of them. If there weren't so many people in the other rooms, he would have you singing.

You couldn't hold on much longer. You clenched around him tightly, he knew you were close, as was he, but he wanted you climax first.

He kept going, grinding into you with precision and perfect rhythm.

You came for him. His lips curled upward.

His turn. He increased his pace and focused on his own pleasure, but the way your hands caressed his face gently and brought his face down to yours some more, really had him melting for you.

He twitches within you. You brush your lips against his in the softest manner. He comes undone in seconds.

He releases within you and brushes his lips against your cheek as he catches his breath.

"Hunt was wrong."

You wait for him to elaborate. He doesn't.

Niki pulls out of you, leaving you feeling a little empty without him. He climbs off the ned and grabs his forgotten trousers. You take a moment to catch you breath, but before you could lift yourself up, Niki offers you his hand.

You accept his help and slowly stand, dressing yourself when he hands you your forgotten clothes.

He fixes your hair delicately. You're almost jealous by the fact his curly hair looked no different, despite how much your fingers tugged and roamed within them.

Once you were all fixed up, Niki reached for your hand. You accepted it and let him lead the way back to the party. Luckily there weren't many people about right outside, no one seemed to notice the pair of you slipping back into the main room.

Hunt was very well distracted elsewhere. Lauda didn't even glance at him as he took you outside.

"Shouldn't be mingle some more?"

"No. I am done here. Besides, I owe you lunch, remember."

You smile and tug at his hand, causing him to stop. Niki looks at you.

"Forget lunch. I don't care any more. I got something better out of this anyway."

"Oh?" He grinned.

"Yeah, how many people get to fuck Niki Lauda at a party?"

He faces you full on.

"You know I have no intention of letting you go after this?" He asks, gesturing between you both with his free hand.

"You want to go from fake date to actual date?"

"If you'll have me."

You stare at him, trying to read his eyes. Lauda once again becomes unreadable to you as silence settles between you both.

"You're serious?"

"Do I look like I'm laughing?"

"Is this just to prove Hunt wrong again? I'm not some plaything here to get in between this rivalry you have with him."

Niki steps closes and places his hands on your shoulders. His palms are warm.

"I know you're not. I was a fool to use you as such in the first place. I am asking genuinely."

You can't help the soft smile that appears on your face. He was serious. He actually meant it.

You kiss him.

You don't care who sees.

He returns the gesture eagerly. All he could ever want now is right here in front of him.

He really did feel like the luckiest man in the world.

@ajeff855 @moonstuffsteve @sky-writes-stuff @lieutenantn @lostghostgirl94 @friday18eo @yaskna @my-blood-is-maple-syrup @gingerwriter97 @lunamooney2406 @wilder-fangirl @belle82devart @hb8301 @stardancerluv @killeromanoff @cathrin2405 @zemosimp420 @charistory @sleepyflutist18 @supercharged-tatertot @belle82devart @sexyundeadtrash @realremyd @goddessofmischief03 @myybebe

[kadeu]

THE DECK; OCTOBER 2024

Sweet breeze! Good riddance summer. Now, usually we adore the summer season, the fashion, the events, the lively shows and all the trouble the socialites get up to. And yes, the fashion was there but eyepatches in the heat are not ideal. Our beloved socialites flocked to the beach and we have enough tales of drunken debauchery yes, and even those who remained in the city with their enchanted blocks of ice and selective guest lists, we still have heard the deeds. But the heat, something about this summer’s heat, made it not as enjoyable.

Speaking of the beach, there is mourning up in the highranked hills of Diamonds. Once Kings, demoted in scandal to Jacks, the Sobongs have met rough waters while enjoying what was supposed to be a calming row out to sea in Umibe. Their staff reported that, “the once peaceful seas suddenly became enraged as if a Tempest beset it and pulled them under.” The Sobong fortune is now up in the air as the only true heir, their son Korain, has long been presumed dead. Korain's only heir is none other than Ace of Diamonds Moon Ara, but sources say the Sobong's will doesn't name their estranged granddaughter at all. 

It is rather fortunate though, inheriting a vast sum, especially when one half of the marital income pool couldn’t even afford box seats at the other’s place of employment. We wonder just how much money is in that estate. Enough to kill for? Only time will tell.

In Hearts, once jeweler to the elite facecards yet now blacklisted from those circles, Lee Hyeonju seems to be looking from Hearts for a way into Diamonds. Formerly disgraced now reinstated Academy Professor Parker Luke, seems to have accepted the advances of Hyeonju and has been spotted every night for two whole weeks within his apartment. Sources close to both men say that Hyeonju has been giving the professor the royal treatment in hopes he sponsors his defection!

Whispers throughout Heart society say that the Ace of Hearts, once an avid patron of Hyeonju’s has refused his service in lieu of newly popular Fae artisans. The Ace’s mood as of late is unreadable on that topic, but sources say Hyeonju has been barred from his presence and that has other highrankers and artisans have been following suit, preferring to not gain the Ace’s disfavor. This has lead to instability in Hyeonju’s prospects in Hearts. No wonder he is looking to flee to Diamonds. 

But he’s not the only one out of favor in Hearts. Ex-courtesan turned restaurant owner, Meesong Nari has been seen without her usual entourage of Zuihuo guards and attendants. Rumor has it she has been kicked from that mansion she was gifted and the Clan favor mark is gone from her arm. Not sure what she did to separate herself from that protection and comfort but we are sure all those bridges she burned ascending in the ranks will happily revisit her. They tell us as kids right? What goes up must come down. Watch your back Nari.

THE TENSION BETWEEN CLUBS AND SPADES;

Amidst the growing tensions between Clubs and Spades, Ace of Clubs Mallick Sai Shah,  held the opening for his Hunter’s Lair. It seems it was mostly a hit, with fights breaking out away from the venue, not in it! One club said, “it’s better to just enjoy things now than wait for whatever comes next,” and we’re considering stitching it on tunics and selling them as aid relief! Business owners suffering from Spade mandated ban through the Joker found it hard to mingle and feast while their own stores suffered. Worse, a gag order was in place against all negative comments on Spades. We sense a lot of fake smiles and grumblings over bread but can’t confirm as we were refused an exclusive invite to report the event!

Still, as an unbiased news source, we gladly accepted the request for a sit down with Ace Shah to address the actions taken in his faction. Our reporter braved the streets of Clubs to give a completely impartial interview. 

How has it been as an Ace? The jump from low ranker to sitting atop the faction must be hard.

Hard? Surprising and unexpected would be the words I would use to describe how this whole situation feels. I used to be a highranker after all and making my way up to even higher ranks before a tragedy struck me, was that an unknown fact?

But you’ve never been Ace? How is that jump?

No, never been. The title itself is not omnipotent, it has its limitations and brings forth unwanted attention that stands in the way of the current progress we wish to bring to the faction. But it's an important role even if only in word, one has to still use it respectably. But the short answer is the jump is still happening. Ask again in a few years when I've landed where it takes me.

How did you think of the Club council? Is it true you were inspired by the Diamond council?

I didn’t think of the Club council, it was a meeting of minds, I wouldn’t have been able to have any council at all if it was only my contribution going into the making of said council. While I have a deep respect for Diamonds and how they tend to go about their politics, I can’t say I was thinking about them when the idea came to be, I was more concerned on how it would affect Clubs in general and how it would be accepted within the faction. But I can now see why they have one, it has its benefits and I applaud them for having the idea to immediately instill it in their system.

How many people really support you as ex-resistance? Can we even believe you’ve left the criminal enterprise?

I can’t possibly begin to tell who truly supports me as ex-resistance or not, but so far I haven’t had anyone personally challenge me in the faction so in this case I think that means even through reticence people might just believe in the good I want for this faction. 

That’s definitely a tough one, all I can say is I was young, hurt and I made mistakes. If I can be forgiven for them then I will be happy, if not I will understand. However, to be judged for the mistakes of your pasts when you’ve recognized them and clearly show that you’ve completely turned away from them, that’s an unfortunate way to see the world or the people around us if you ask me. But yes, to your question, you can believe that I’ve left the criminal enterprise.

I suppose you maintain your innocence in the killing and raid on spade? If you didn’t do it then who is behind such a foul act?

I absolutely do, I had nothing to do with the unfortunate incident even if allegations brought forth the information that some key evidence might link me to it. My hands are clean and I can’t even begin to think of who would be behind this. But whoever it is, the council has decided to lead an investigation into the matter because it’s not just my name and reputation that is on the line, it is also the honor of this faction that will be yet again tarnished. If you find any more clues before we do, I’m certain you’ll pass the message to the rest of the city, won’t you?

Of course! So you suppose you are being framed? Why would anyone frame an already known murderer?

I don’t take lightly to being called a murderer, but if that’s a title I have to wear for ridding the faction of an Ace who cared none for the lives of the people he wanted to lead to an unending civil war and unrest, then there’s not much I can do about it. But yes, I’m being framed, because of the criminal enterprise’s affiliation I had in the past and the label of murderer I have on my back. I mean, wouldn’t you say it’s easier to believe that I would be the one behind someone’s death and demise considering those two demeaning factors? It’s even a little unfair to not see how blatantly obvious they went about it.

You must know, the Academy was attacked a few years ago with your resistance taking ownership. Were you not involved?

The resistance I was part of and that I do not own, you mean? I did hear of it when the incident occurred. I was not involved and I found it disheartening. I'm against attacking innocents and causing the loss of innocent lives.

We’ve heard that your people were harassing Spades in your faction? Our sources say, ‘Urine and feces were tossed on a patron in a popular tavern for saying ‘Spades should be respected.’ Should Spades not be respected?

I’ve had no time to hear these rumors but of course Spades should be respected. Everyone deserves respect for that matter, tossing urine and feces doesn’t seem like a respectful action taken either. But if this rumor is true I can simply apologize for the mistreatment and ask that less impulsive measures are taken in the future because, as you can see, I don’t have any means to control anyone to stop tragedies from occurring. If I did you wouldn’t be here as no shipment would have been ambushed and no lives would have been lost. Unfortunate, isn’t it?

This Ace of Clubs only brings more questions when questions are asked.  He made it clear to our interviewer that the resistance was a mistake he made in youth and he acknowledges them as all as criminals. He even seemed scared to admit the inspiration for the council he created in Clubs. Maybe those on his council are the real danger here. ‘A meeting of minds’ he claims, but it sounds more like he was coerced by darker agents. We’re certain this council is filled with the same resistance criminals he is trying so hard to claim he has separated himself from.

And yet he proclaims his innocence, insists he is being framed. In round about words he points to some conspiracy with no proof of innocence offered. And where is this council if they are unified in their ruling? Should they not have joined this interview to show their unified cause? The future of Clubs is bound to be as blood soaked under this Ace as the last. At least that Ace stood solidly on one point without a questionable background and motive. 

His unwillingness to out other vagrants that would no doubt bring that peace to the faction like he claims to want, make his alleged innocence and investigation a joke. Our own investigation finds King of Clubs, Wainwright Rook, with high suspicion for the fight that broke out in his tavern. There a Spade had feces and urine thrown on them which led to a brawl that left the very foundation of the tavern with a cracked that travelled up the building.  Yet Ace Shah acts ignorant of it. No wonder Spades must do their own investigation.

In Spades, they are increasing drills and the policing of their border. We wonder if an invasion will come soon. Whispers amongst their ranks lean to disdain for the Club Council. Refugees who chose to leave the safety of Spades were met at the border with medical personnel and fighters as if the Club Council thought that Spades were abusing those they rescued during the terror of the war between their last Ace and the new one and his resistance criminals. The council passing suspicion to Spades who have done more for their corner of the city is laughable.

Well, at least the weather is cooling down. Hopefully that eases some of the tensions. The weather is predicted to be far more comfortable though still a bit warmer for the season. We’re calling it a second attempt at summer.  

NOW PLAYING AT THE PALACE;

Fresh from the mind of director Ace Moon Ara, comes a gruesome tale of lost love and revenge. With intense, dark themes, The Palace recommends not bringing children to this production and reminds all of it’s patrons that the theater is NOT responsible for the adverse affects the production may have on younger minds or weak stomachs.

The Fiendish Barber of Kadeu

Evil Judge Turpin (Budrelda Beryl) lusts for the beautiful wife of a simple barber, Benjamin Barker (Adrian!). In order to claim the beautiful woman for herself, Turpin frames the barber, and has him transported to a far away prison for a crime he did not commit. Returning after 15 years and calling himself Sweeney Todd - the new name given to him by the fiend he managed to conscript, the now-mad man vows revenge, applying his razor to unlucky customers and shuttling the bodies down to Mrs. Lovett (played by Ara’s protégé from Wing Theatrics), who uses them in her meat-pie shop. Though many fall to his blade, he will not be satisfied until he slits Turpin's throat.

Its a wonderful start to the fall season, our reporters loved their screening but warn of its hauntingly good effects.