“Roleplaying… in bed?”

From the couch of your apartment, Ashveil looks up at you with raised eyebrows and a slight tilt of his head.

Without wanting to sound too much like a freak, you quickly follow up with a “remember that last movie we watched, where the couple pretended not to know each other at a bar?”

His eyes light up. “Oh! Yeah, I remember that, that did look fun,” he nods, “wouldn't be the first time I do something along those lines.”

Well that's very great to hear. Which means he can probably be convinced to do something that's not quite so tame, right?

You nod along. “I’ve always wanted to try something like that, so, I was wondering whether you'd like us… to…”

You trail off as a wide, downright evil smirk spreads across Ashveil's face

“Wh- what?”

“Oh, nothing,” he shrugs, “hadn’t expected my sweetheart to be so kinky, that's all –”

A pillow promptly lands in his face, earning a yelp from him before it falls to his lap. His eyes are wide.

“H- hey, I’m being vulnerable here!” you stutter between astonishment at his behavior and embarrassment at how quickly he clocked you.

As much as you like to tease him, his intuition isn’t all that bad, and he has the very annoying trait of reading you better than you’d like to, at times. So what if you're a bit into that stuff? Everyone has their peculiarities, the childhood trauma that somehow got turned into a weird fixation and now serves as a coping mechanism more than anything. Roleplaying is fun, and that's the end of it.

You huff, insecurity creeping up. “If you’re just teasing me with no intention to do something, I can just shut up.” Being teased is one thing, feeling like you’re being made fun of is another.

“Aright, alright. Why don’t you tell me about what you have in mind, hm?” Patting his lap, Ashveil invites you to join him, and he wraps your arms around your waist once you do. Another smirk spreads on his face. “No need to beat around the bush with something as meek as ‘pretending to meet at a bar’. What’s your goal here, love?”

Here it goes. After thinking about this for months, you finally have the chance to lay bare all those desires that you’ve been hiding within the deepest parts of your depraved brain. Gosh, you’ve seen this guy naked and whimpering – why are you suddenly getting shy about this?

“Okay, so… You know that old fairytale called red riding hood and the big bad wolf?”

“Not predictable at all.” His voice drips with sarcasm.

“You can't predict a plot twist in a movie even if it's obvious from the first damn minute.”

“I can predict you just fine. I think that's a lot more fun.”

You're going to strangle this man. That shit-eating grin is just asking for it, really. Instead, you retort to more civilized methods to get back at him.

“Hm… Though, I’m not sure that you can pull off the big, bad wolf,” you lament, rolling off of him and flopping down next to him on the couch.

Ashveil sputters, every point of his pride wounded to a degree that rivals insulting his very own being. He’s downright offended. “Me? I am THE big bad wolf,” he retorts, frantically pointing to all the wolf badges and motifs all over his clothing. “That’s my entire thing!”

You tilt your head from side to side, taunting. “I don’t know. The big wolf is supposed to be scary – that’s the whole fun of the scenario. It’s about the dynamic, the adrenaline,” you explain, a director in another life, it seems. A side eye meets those grey hues. “And you’re a lot of things… but not frightening.”

For a moment, it seems that Ashveil wants to protest, but his expression slowly softens, eyebrows furrowed and gaze pensive. When he opens his mouth again, it’s a soft, low murmur. “...I don’t want you to fear me.”

The sudden shift in mood is a whiplash, making you feel guilty for teasing him like that. He was a feared Galaxy Ranger once. Aeons, you know he can still be intimidating when he wants to be. Of course he wouldn’t want to put you in the same spot as corrupt scoundrels and evildoers.

You lean up, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Hey, come on. I could never be scared of you,” you promise, taking his prosthetic hand into yours and pressing it against your cheek.

“Are you sure?” His thumb brushes over your cheekbone. “I know I’m not the infamous ‘First Fang’ anymore, but I don’t want to cross a line there’s no going back from.”

You huff. “I’m more resilient than you think.”

“I know you are,” he smiles.

“So leave it to me to determine where that line is.” A pause. “How about this: you can be as scary as you feel comfortable being. And if something goes too far, I’ll stop you, ‘kay?”

That proposal visibly lets his tense shoulders sag with relief. Nodding, Ashveil’s head drops to your shoulder, where he lets out a small sigh, “...yeah. Sounds good.”

“Also, just saying. I wouldn't be choosing this scenario if I wasn't into a bit of fearplay, you know.”

“Not to mention your very obvious love for seeing this old wolf in action,” he giggles, and you clearly feel a smile against your neck.

You ruffle his hair with a chuckle.

…

Usually, the setting of Little Red Riding Hood is a forest, but there are no forests anywhere close to Duomension City without travelling for miles. So no flower picking, no forest path, and no cabin in the woods where dear grandma lies in wait. Thankfully, the whole dressing up part is the easiest thing about this – there’s all sorts of peculiar people running around every day, and your little red and wolf cosplays won’t stand out from the crowd. Which means the only thing you need to focus on is somehow translating the old fairy tale into a modern version without losing the charm of the original.

“... Narrator, you know what this is all a buildup for, right?”

You sit on the chair in Ashveil's office, with Mr. N sitting on the table while he taps his phone. The detective is out to run errands, and his faithful assistant has offered to help you out on your little mission of coming up with the details of the scenario. Frankly, having the monkey meddle into the whole thing is a bit…

“Rest assured that I know what Mr. Ashveil and you are planning with this,” he nods, occasionally checking something on the computer. “I’d rather the both of you find a location more fitting for your little adventure than the office. I've marked down a few reputable places, and sent you some links about helpful tips and tricks for what you two have in mind.”

Uhm. Are you– Are you seriously getting kink PSA from a monkey? Why is he so well informed?? The logical explanation would be that, as the one actually doing the detective work in the agency, Narrator has collected a lot of info about all sorts of places. Or maybe he used to be into that stuff when he was still human. You don't want to think about any other possible explanation.

…

A few days and lots of communication later, you and Ashveil decided on a location. Initially, you eyed the website of a love hotel that uses imagenesis to create whatever environment you want, but just one hour in a room was more than your monthly salary. Nope, that was definitely too much for your budget, not to mention Ashveil’s. Instead, you found a little motel aimed at kinky couples, advertising soundproof rooms, a snack bar and free contraceptives, as well as a collection of accessories like handcuffs or blindfolds for rent. Still a bit pricey, yet the both of you agreed that doing anything like that within the thin walls of your apartment would not only be super embarrassing, but could also lead to prying neighbours assuming things they shouldn’t. 

So here you are: dressed in your favorite red hoodie, just a few streets from Perdido Station, following the route that you agreed on. Hopefully nobody recognizes you two… You try to keep your eyes fixed to the screen of your phone, wanting the surprise of Ashveil popping up to be as genuine as possible. Walking alone late in the evening is not a very smart thing to do, though, so you still try to stay aware of your surroundings as best as possible.

“Good evening, Little Red Riding Hood,” a voice calls from an alley, a dark purr beckoning you to stray from your path and walk right into your doom.

You walk past him.

Behind you, you can hear confused footsteps going into one direction, then the other, before you see the flash of white and red press past you to hide in another alleyway a few steps ahead.

You can't help it. You know it's cruel of you, and you're barely holding in your laughter, but you had to do it to him. 

“Good evening, Little Red Riding Hood,” Ashveil repeats, louder this time, because you clearly didn't hear him.

That's when you finally look up from your phone and turn to face him: from beneath his usual coat, a long, black tail sprouts forth, a raven dark fading into white, similar to his own hair. One tall ear peaks from the raised side of his fedora, the other hanging down on the other side, almost blending into his hair. You’d make a comment about how the one floppy ear makes him look kinda silly, but you instead find yourself staring. It’s easy to forget it when you often get to see this man at his worst, but Ashveil is gorgeous. His silvery eyes, staring at you from behind hooded lids, the hint of a smile on his delicate lips, and now, the ears and tail that not only fit beautifully into his overall aesthetic, but also remind you of what’s about to come.

Ah, right, you gotta answer him.

“Uh… Are you talking with me?” Feigning confusion, you look around the empty alley.

Ashveil’s eyes narrow, tilting his head. “Where are you going so late in the evening?”

“That’s none of your business?”

“That’s not –” A deep breath, before the wolf continues, irritation mixing into his deep voice. “You’re supposed to say ‘to my grandmother’s house’, Little Red,” he grumbles.

Seeing Ashveil pout, even if he’s just pretending this time, never fails to amuse you.

You frown at him. “And why would I say that? My grandma doesn’t even live anywhere close…”

Teeth gritted, hands flexing, he narrows his eyes again. “Because that’s how the story goes.”

You do your best to look at him as if he was a random weirdo on the streets who knows every officer by name with how often he gets the police called on him. Then, you snap your fingers. “Oohh, I get it! They’re doing some kind of Red Riding Hood adaptation, right?” Suddenly crowding his personal space, you lean in closer. “Is this a promotion for a new movie? Do you walk up to anyone wearing red? Is someone recording this?”

Ashveil can do nothing but look dumbfounded as you take out your phone and snap a selfie with him.

“Hmm, I haven’t seen any ads at all, are you gonna use this video as material? Because I wanna be paid for this if this is gonna go online.”

The dread of paying money catches up to him, because he snaps back into his role and glares down at you. “There is no adaptation! This is no movie, and no ad campaign either,” he huffs and puffs and blows the – no, wait, wrong fairy tale.

Putting your phone away, you take a step back. “Uh, so… You’re a cosplayer, then? A really weird one,” you add under your breath.

“Listen –”

“Hang on.” Fishing your phone out of your pocket again, you hold it up to your ear. “Oh, hi babe! Yeah, I'll be home in a min.”

There is no other person on the line. You just need an excuse to get away… and to ragebait Ashveil as much as possible. Without another word towards him, you walk off towards the Dreamless Coffee location nearby, leaving him behind. Aeons, you'd pay to see the expression on his face right now.

Instead, you follow the plan the two of you set up, sitting yourself on one of the little tables outside the cafe without ordering anything. Checking the time on your phone, you see that you still have about half an hour before you have to head for the motel, and you start to wonder: What will happen once you get there? Will Ashveil really put on a granny costume and lay down in bed? A grin spreads on your face as you imagine him trying to imitate the voice of an old woman, pitch croaking and cracking. He may be able to look like one, with a bit of makeup, but his voice has always been his biggest giveaway.

Maybe Ashveil has something completely different in store? After all, you've put a lot of creative liberty into your version of the fairytale, but what matters is the core, right? Unassuming little thing gets ravaged by the mean wolf. Adaptation, modernization, all begets change. What matters is having fun, for Aha’s sake!

Some part of you… worries. Not because you don't trust Ashveil, of course you do. But this is the first time the two of you are doing this, and you hope that it's not too much for either of you.

Relax. That's why you have safe words and gestures, you remind yourself. It's all gonna be fine.

Inside your phonecase, the keycard to your room sits snugly, and every time your fingers run over it, you’re reminded that this is all going to happen soon. You’re finally going to live out this fantasy. It’s gonna be fine, and fun, and hot.

Perhaps an eternity passes, even if it’s over in seconds, as your phone screen flickers to life with the sound of a timer. It’s time.

Ever since Ashveil got released I've wanted to write a Red Riding Hood fic, and after a lot of time slacking off, part 1 is done! I'm posting this part already because this fic got significantly longer than expected; part 2 will be out sometime this week!

In Boothill's lc, we see him in the middle of his surgery where he threw away his flesh and bone body for steel and cybernetics. We know it was The Big Surgery and not just like some sort of tune up or modification because of the description attached to the lc:

Which is where a lot of the dissonance comes in, because in this lc, Boothill's hair is much, much longer than in the cg.

And as someone who also has super long hair, I can tell you that it would take like. Multiple years to grow it out to this length.

There's also the fact that these cybernetic arms don't even match, the lc is the one that looks like our Boothill does now. And there's no reason for Boothill's shirt to be ripped up and in tatters like that; it even states he takes off his clothes before the lc surgery. If it were a matter of Hoyo needing to censor nudity, there were plenty of other methods they could have used that would make more sense, like a hospital gown, a blanket, surgical partition, etc

When will I get to see Boothill with all his scars, Hoyo, when, quit cockblocking me!!! OTL

But there was also another piece of new lore this patch that hit me like a fuckin' brick- the fact that Boothill was tortured by the IPC.

He just drops this out of nowhere! Just says it and then moves right along!! BABY, PLEASE. I WANNA KNOW MORE SO GODDAMN BAD.

But anyway as Hydrachea pointed out to me, this means the torture definitely had to happen before the lc surgery, because being whipped with a belt soaked in saltwater (fucking OUCH) wouldn't work on someone with metal skin.

So, we know that the IPC did, at some point, capture Boothill. And this is reaching further back to previous patches, but we also know from the Luminary Wardance event in 2.5 that the IPC also dabbles in cybernetic arms, because of the one they foisted on Luka.

The model there is a new one they're debuting, but we see in a flashback sequence that the IPC has been part of the cybernetics game for at least 700-800 years, because they also manipulated Igor into getting one too, and this could have only happened before the Eternal Freeze on Jarilo-VI.

It's never stated just how old Boothill is, or how long ago the genocide on Aeragan-Epharshel took place.

But I doubt it was more than 700-800 years ago.

I really don't think Boothill is that old, or has been doing this for that long. So he definitely would have been captured at a point that the IPC was manufacturing cybernetic arms, and had a known history of amputating perfectly healthy patients to use them.

I wonder if all their test subjects were willing.

(This part is entirely unnecessary for the new cg showing Boothill being a forced lab rat as part of the IPC torturing him. But it is a fun, delightful, bloodily gruesome twist of the knife nonetheless.

Boothill was also betrayed by his own brothers-in-arms on Aeragan-Epharshel. For the IPC. Just saying.)