#(monk still smallest though)

[kelocitta]

how are the vanilla twins in the anthro au?

I don't have them really super thought out (lots of this started just as messing around with designs, which i dont even have for these other three) but all the vanilla slugcats are more involved with scavengers. I just feel the need to work out far more details than probably necessary

Survivor lives roughly around the farm arrays area with a young pseudo-elite in a largely isolate colony and Nightcat and Monk both live roughly in the Industrial location. Nightcat used to live in a different scavenger colony but Something Happened To That One (cough), so they were just wandering when monk and them paired up. Of course all this is like, first draft and needs so much work

[gallusrostromegalus]

AEIWAM - Some details about whats going on with Komamura. IIRC canon said he was a werewolf, are you doing anything with him?

Me: What IS Komamura's backstory? Me: *reads backstory and eventual canon fate of Komamura* Me: Hm. Me: That's thematically weird and depressing. Me: I'll just ignore that :)

---

So in An Elephant Is Warm And Mushy, there's ALL KINDS of animal-people and supernatural creatures of varying degrees of anthropomorphic states in the Soul Society! Wolf people! Yokai! Centaurs But Bad! Snake people (sneople)! Mothmen! Whatever the fuck The Philosopher Wax is! Hell, Zaraki Kenpachi was raised by eagles! More nonhuman persons than you can shake a stick at!

They just stay away from the humans because The Humans are TERRIBLE.

...Not as terrible as my immediate family though, The Young Wolf is willing to gamble. he has to leave his home suddenly, in the middle of the night, frightened and injured. Family feuds are bad enough, but a drought year for a large group of apex carnivores and great-grandmother dying and creating a power vacuum? I'm lucky I got out alive! He reasons, tightening the bandages and wincing.

It doesn't look so bad. he lies to himself, looking at his reflection in the where he had finally collapsed from exhaustion and blood loss the previous night and somehow woke up alive this morning. Great-Grandfather did me a favor, trying to bite me in half like that- a tail would just make it even harder to blend in with the humans!

...Clothes would help more though. He sighs.

One man's trash is another's treasure, and that has never been more true than in the case of wolves that want to live with humans. The Young Wolf nearly weeps with joy when he finds the dump- barely-rotted animal carcasses to eat! broken wood for a fire! and clothes! Big enough to fit him! Alright that's definitely a bloodstain with a big, sort of sword-slash-shaped hole in the middle, but nothing a dunk in the river won't solve!

...Or not. Well, at least being covered in mud is less suspicious than being covered in blood? How does this thing even go on anyway? The garment is so confusing, he almost doesn't hear the humans who came to dump something until they are nearly upon him, and realizing they'll panic if they see his face, he grabs a broken basket and jams it over his head.

"Hey!" one of the humans calls out, seeing the movement. "What're you?" An old man peers around the pile at him, curious.

The Young Wolf sputters- he's heard tales of humans before, but this is the first human he's ever actually seen- The stories tell of their strange dark eyes and flattened faces how their fur is so fine they're nearly bald all over, and this man fits the description perfectly. An old woman- he guesses this one is a Woman, because what little fur she has is longer- she appears behind him, equally curious, then smacks the man under the ear.

"You dummy!" She snaps. "That's a monk!"

"Big damn monk!" The man laughs- indeed, even though he's one of the smallest of his people and not even grown, The Young Wolf towers over him- but still, he extends his open hand. Like the stories say, his claws are blunt and pale and the pads of his paws are soft. "What's yer name, venerable?"

"He can't answer that, he's a monk!" the woman snaps, exasperated. "They got- whatchyamacallit- Vows of Silence!"

"Oh, right!" the old man laughs. "Well, wouldn't matter if you could talk anyhow- my Old Lady's deaf as a post and I'm dumb as a rock! Come on, this is no place for a holy man!" he waved.

"Our home is up this way- it isn't much, but it's better than sleeping in Garbage! You stay with us and I'll fix that ratty old robe right up!" She said, grabbing him by the hand-

-

Ba-San looks down at his hand- it feels strange in hers, but it's not the fine gray fur covering his fingers or the rough pads on his palm or the dark nails that taper to claws.

It's that the hand is bleeding, scraped and cut and one of his nails missing like it had been torn off in a fight.

Ba-San is so old that everyone has forgotten her name and they just call her Ba-San, even her husband (who is so old that everyone has forgotten his name and calls him Jii-san, even his wife), and she didn't get this ancient by being an idiot. She glances up at the broken basket she knows got thrown in here by her neighbor not a week ago and sees the large golden eyes inside, staring down at her.

She's also old enough to know what a frightened child looks like, no matter how tall or what species he is.

She makes a show of squinting at his hand. "Why, your nails are FILTHY! You can wash up at the well out back too." She pats his hand.

"Of course! That's right!" Jii-san laughs. "Like I said- I got gravel for brains! He can sleep in Sajin's bed- Sajin is our Boy, but he's long since left home. It'll be good to have a young person around again!" he says, taking the boy's other hand.

He follows, stumbling awkwardly in the badly-tied robe and like he's been injured, but if he leaves paw-prints behind him, they don't remark upon it. - After about a month, the boy has something to confess. And something to ask.

Ba-San and Jii-San have been kind to him- they let him into their home and fed him and Ba-San didn't fix his robe so much as make an entirely new one "appropriate for a Monk", and Jii-san found a pair of old work gloves for him "so you can do your Good Works without losing another nail". Ba-San always gives him her soup-bones "I don't have the teeth to chew them anymore" and Jii-san always moves over so they can both sleep in the sun-patch that appears in the middle of their home every afternoon.

He's tried to repay them how he can- he's tall enough to fix the holes in the roof of their one-room shack standing flat-footed on the floor, and he carries water from the well every day to wash the stone steps outside and re-painted the red gate out front and every morning he makes them breakfast to wake them up and every night he rubs their tired necks and shoulders.

"Mmm-rr." he tries at breakfast, and they both look up, but it's hard enough practicing human words in the woods behind the shack to the birds, let alone now, at the table with the two people he cares most about in the world.

"You say something, Venerable?" Jii-san asks. "Don't worry- I won't tattle to the abbot on you-" he teases.

"Shush!" Ba-san barks at him. "What is it?"

He sighs, and tries again, focusing on the sounds. "mMnoddamunk."

The two elders stare blankly at him.

"Ahm nodda munk." he tries again, enunciating better. "Ahm nodda yumn eethrr."

The two look at each other, then turn back to him and place a hand on each of his.

"...Sorta figur'd the first when you didn't recognize the shrine." Nods Jii-san. "-But that's alright. You take good care of us."

"...Sort of figured the second when I saw your hand on the day we met." Nods Ba-San. "-But that's alright. You're a good person, which is a very different thing than being a Good Human."

The Boy stares at them, stunned, then cringes, embarrassed. Of course! They're old, not stupid. "Aiyee- r-r-r MN! Aiyee LLied." he apologizes, stumbling over the difficult consonant in the middle, determined to conquer it.

"I didn't hear any lies, did you, Jii-san?" asks Ba-san.

"I didn't hear nothin' and my ears even work!" he grins, ears perking up.

The Boy sighs, still exasperated with their antics but mostly relieved.

...Then something Jii-san said caught up with him, and he frowns.

"Aiyee- Aye haffa..." Another tricky consonant. "Aye needa assk ssmmng." he changed tracks. L was enough of a battle for one day, Q and his frustrating wife U could wait.

"Whadday wanna know, Venerable?" Jii-san asked, and Ba-san frowned, turning her ear out behind their home, already suspecting his questions.

He held up two fingers and they nodded, waiting. He'd gotten very good at numbers and pointing already, and until today, that had carried the conversation. "sssHrrine?" he asked.

Jii-san frowned. "...what's your second question?"

"th-Therre'ss ah- Grrrave?" he pointed out behind the shrine, to where a stone stood, with what he now recognized as marks signifying a name carved into it. "wHo?"

Ba-San and Jii-san looked at each other, distraught for some time before Ba-San finally turned back to him, both hands on his.

"...Venerable," She finally spoke. "You had to run away from home in a hurry, didn't you?"

The boy nods.

"-And Jii-san and I were the first people you met that weren't you family, right?" She continues.

He nods again. She purses her lips, agitated.

"Jii-San." She finally speaks. "I think we ought to show him Sajin."

Jii-san sighs and nods, agreeing with her, and stands up. At the back of the house, there is a little cabinet with two boxes they never open, and something covered by a black cloth. Jii-san opens the cabinet and takes out the thing covered by the black cloth, pulling the cloth aside and bringing the thing to the table. It's a flat rectangle, and on it is a drawing of a very strange creature.

It's face is almost perfectly circular, and it's body covered in clothes, like how Humans dress, including a funny hat. What the boy can see of the creature is perfectly smooth and hairless and the same color as not-quite-ripe peaches. It has a long mane of straight dark gray hair growing from the top of its head, and a beard a bit like a billy-goat's

"This is Sajin," Says Jii-san, voice wavering a bit. "He wasn't our son- you can tell, we're not related by blood- but he was Our Boy. He took care of us, like you do now."

"He was Our Boy." nods Ba-San, on the verge of tears. "Then he was Our Man. And then he was Our Old Man, and then-" She stopped, and began to cry in earnest. "-And then he left home, and we buried his body out behind the shrine, and marked his grave, as Humans do."

The boy continued to stare at Sajin's portrait. "...Sajin." he whispered, and the name didn't fight him at all. "...Ihff- if Sajin iss Yumann-?" he looked up at his friends. "Whattrrre You?"

Ba-San beckons him and Jii-san back to the cabinet, and puts her hand on one of The Boxes They Never Open. Jii-San puts his hand on the other, and together, the open the lids just a tiny bit for The Boy to see inside.

He gasps and steps back in horror- the things in the boxes are very much like the skulls he's seen of his people before, but the noses are all smooshed like they didn't grow right, and the eyes are too large and- -And they're just the right size each to belong to Ba-San and Jii-San.

"We are Koma, Guardian Dogs, and this is our shrine." Says Jii-san, closing the lid on his box as Ba-san closed hers, and placing the drawing of Sajin back on the shelf above them. "We wear clothes and speak like humans because we once took Names, a very long time ago, and thus we are People and we act like People." He explained.

"Nnames?" the boy asks.

"A Name is... a sort of contract, that the humans made up." Says Ba-San, locking the cabinet back up. "Humans can live together in such huge packs and crowded cities because they have Rules- you're not allowed to kill other people except in self-defense. You're not allowed to take food someone else caught. Nobody is allowed to kill a child for any reason, things like that. If you take a Name, it's like saying- 'I am this Person! And I agree to abide by the rules of being a person!', and you have to follow the rules, but everyone else has to follow the rules for you too, because you have a Name. So Humans can live very close to each other, because they all have an understanding that nobody is going to violate those rules."

"It's not just humans that can take names- long ago, some wolves decided to take names, and those wolves became Dogs, that live with humans. They were our ancestors, and like our ancestors, we took Names, and we obeyed the rules, and for that, we were fed and allowed to sleep inside and given soup-bones and let to sleep in the sun-patch, but most of all, we were Loved." Said Jii-san.

"-And just the same, we Loved Sajin. He was Our Boy. And We were His Dogs." Said Ba-san, bursting into tears again. Jii-san held her, tears running down his face as well.

Ba-san cried into Jii-san's shoulder for a long time, and The Boy Who Was A Wolf That Wanted To Live Among The Humans sat in silence, thinking.

"...Cour-could Aye- take a nName?" He asks, slowly.

"You'd have to take two, and learn all the rules-" Nodded Jii-san. "But yes. Anyone who can talk can take a name. And you've been talking my tail off!" he wagged.

"Two?" the boy asked. He didn't need to use his fingers this time.

"Humans have two names- one is the name of that specific human, and one is the name of their family or the place they came from or what they did, as a sort of... Introduction. Humans are very big on introducing themselves and all their friends- though I suppose it makes sense, what with them having names to introduce themselves with."

"You can be a Komamura!" Jii-san said, wagging excitedly. "Ba-san and Jii-san are Koma, and we are your Ba-San and Jii-San, so you must be part of our family, so that makes you Mura, a relative- so you're a Koma-mura!" he nodded.

"Humans also give their children names of revered ancestors, to honor the ancestor, and protect the child." Added Ba-san. "You do Sajin's chores, you sleep in Sajin's bed, you take care of Sajin's Dogs... You must be Sajin!"

"That's your name, if you want it- Komamura Sajin!" Said Jii-san. The Boy stared at them for a long time, completely still, until they realized that, for the first time since they'd known him, the scarred nub on his backside was wagging too.

"Thank you." Said Sajin, tears streaming down his face too. --

Many months later, a Monk* leaves the little shrine to Ba-san and Jii-san at the edge of the dump. He leaves his home in no particular rush- if anything, he's lingering- in the middle of a bright morning, hale and with joy in his heart. He waves to his Ba-san and Jii-san as he heads down the road, promising to come back and visit.

"Look at that." says Ba-San. "Our Boy is leaving home again."

"I know," Says Jii-san. "-but this time it'll be alright."

--

[ms-oswald]

homesick | chapter two

author's note: aaaand chapter two is here! another long one (sorry, not sorry lol). 18+ MDNI. Sending all my love to @persephones-journey, thank yoou for being my second pair of eyes! ❤️ banner credit to @arcielee 💜 Lots of love & stay safe 💕

     “Kára?”

The roughness of battle suddenly vanished, the sight of an old friend gracing relief into his muscles. 

“If it isn’t my favorite Irishman.” A grin stretched into her cheeks, light steps pushing her to him as he got up from his seat and met her halfway, the alehouse rowdy and curious as eyes peered over to them. 

“Who is the woman?” The youngest of Uhtred’s men, a gentle monk, leaned closer to his friends as he whispered while his view remained on the couple.  

“She is one of Ragnar’s men.” Uhtred had taken the lead on answering, his own blue hues set on them. “A seafarer.” A slight smirk had crossed the side of his lips as well, a sense of contentment at seeing his closest friend ease a little; Finan had reached out for her, gingerly holding her hand with their fingertips timidly tied together as they laid above the ground. 

She noticed a tired look in his eyes; she placed her other hand to his cheek, stroking his skin tenderly before pulling him away and out of the alehouse.  

A few feet away, settling in a calmer air, he looked back at her. Though his heart swelled to her presence, he remained curious – and partly hopeful. “What are you doing here?” 

“Are you not happy to see me?” She teased, bumping his shoulder and catching a glimpse of his chuckle. She proceeded, her lighter tone softening. “I heard about what happened with the brothers... I came to see if you had survived.” 

He sighed, a grim look flashing across his irises; even in the dim light around them, she could see something was not right. There was anger, fear, grief – exhaustion. He wore them heavy on his shoulders and her heart broke. 

“How long are ya here for?” He had taken the smallest of steps, head down as he held her hand again, suddenly needy for her touch. It had been some years since they last saw each other – since she had left after helping Ragnar defeat Kjartan. He had mourned her departure once, and knew it were to happen again as she was a fleeting form, a nomadic essence that was never meant to be rooted into the ground, her breath wedded to the sea.  

And so, his inquiry would need to become an iterant quest for their time to come.  

She placed her hand to his cheek. “I can stay for a couple of nights, leave the day after tomorrow...” She softly replied, worry etched onto the creases above her brows.  

He leaned into her touch, kissing the heel of her palm as he exhaled a faint smile of gratitude.  

She then pulled him out of his thoughts, her fingers playfully rubbing at his shaven scalp while taunting him with an exaggerated disapproving look. “What am I supposed to grab onto now?” 

A low laughter rippled from beneath his chest, an easy beam glowing under moonlight.  

He leaned towards her, whispering teasingly into her ear. “I don’t remember ya having any issues last time. I still have your nail marks on my back, Love.” 

She bit her inner cheek, attempting to hide her blush, and slapped him on his chest playfully. “I guess you will have to refresh my memory.” 

A chuckle rumbled the back of his throat as he kissed her cheek, reaching the corner of her lips.  

He broke the embrace, locking eyes with her while she tiptoed around the arm ring he wore on his right side, her fingertips grazing gently over the piece of jewelry before they slithered down to his wrist and hand.  

“Does Ragnar know you are here?”  

She smirked. “Jealous now?” She bit her bottom lip, her head tilted sideways as faint mirth reached the green specks in her eyes. “As far as I know, he doesn’t.” She took a closer step, the tip of her boots touching his own, and lifted herself on her toes, hovering over his breath. “Like I said, I was just passing through to see you.” She eyed him intently, adding jest into her words. “It would have been devastating losing out on such a good friend.” She tapped his chest to her last words, and lingered. 

He grabbed the hand that rested on him as he spoke. “A friend or a hump?”  

She extended her play, pretending to think seriously over her answer as she pursed her lips. It earned her another of his infamous smirk, the creases to his cheeks welcomed.  

She sobered up, nodding curtly. “Both.” 

Another vibration across his lungs, a gentle chortle escaped him as he shook his head. “It’s really good to see you.”  

“And darling, it is good to be seen!” She took his hand and tugged him her way. “Now lead me to your home. I am exhausted and need a bed!” 

“Alright, alright.” The crinkle to his cheeks remained with his grin unwavering to her presence. He pulled her the opposite way, the couple scurrying away from the lights and from the dwindling drunken people as he led her to his place. 

It was a quaint home, comfortable enough to house one person.  

She walked around, glancing to every corner of the open space, taking in the sight while he stayed behind to lock his door. 

He then turned and silently watched her, trying to catch her in the dim light peering through his windows.  

A mind of its own, his body moved forward, his feet marching towards her until he stood behind her. She sensed him and smiled as his arms slid around her stomach, pulling her firmly against his chest.  

She closed her eyes and fell into his embrace, the tip of his nose stroking her temple into her hair as he inhaled; the faint scent of salty waters sent shivers down his spine, the bittersweet aroma curling into the pit of his stomach as he tightened his hold around her. He trailed down behind her ear and her neck, taking in her presence by way of his other senses, un-relying on his sight as his shut hues stayed in the dark.  

Her breathing steadily grew heavier to the feel of his caress traipsing down her stomach. He quietly reached the laces of her trousers, swiftly undoing them before his fingers slipped underneath the fabric. 

She sighed, her head falling backward against his shoulder. She then tilted to the right, hugging his arm with her teeth grazing the muscles; her mouth was slightly parted in pleasure, the dexterous fingers toying with her wantonly. 

“I missed ya...” He breathed, air fanning over her blushing cheek. “I missed having ya around.” 

She tried to regain her composure, her hazels catching the shy glimmer of the moonlight onto the floor. 

She huffed a smile, a lopsided curve etched into a smirk. “As a friend, or a hump?” She called back, playing.  

He took a moment, following into her footstep as he teased her; a slight pressure to his grasp, he heard the faintest of whimper before answering, the cheeky grin smug behind her. 

“Both.” 

The skin of his teeth scratched her earlobe, an overlay to his ministrations as he listened to her soft panting, her chest heaving from the growing warmth underneath her breastbone. 

She cursed under her breath, a strained giggle shaking her tongue at his answer before calling out for him. 

“Finan...”  

“Mhmm?” He mumbled, sweetly kissing the column of her neck. 

“We’re in the dark...” 

She attempted once again to gain control of herself, desperately wanting to focus on her thoughts.  

He did not relent, purposely continuing with his diligent work. “I know.” 

A faint titter tickled his ear. “Do you not want to look at me, is that it? Have I grown hideous since last we saw each other?” She patted his cheek, signaling him to stop. He breathed out as she turned in his arms, rolling her eyes in amusement at his inflated disappointing gaze. “We’ll have all night for some fun.”  

She parted from his embrace with her arms stretched behind her back, a coy glimmer sparkling in her hues. “Come on, get a fire started – give me some heat, and when you are done, I’ll be ready and completely bare, waiting for you in your bed.”   

He let a soft groan out and yanked her back into his arms before catching her lips into his own, granting himself a firm kiss – a tale for more, before once again pulling away. 

He turned to his hearth while she moved to his bed and started to undress herself until she reached her shift. She left it on as she took a seat on the bed, waiting for Finan to join her. 

Once he finished tending to his task, he turned to Kára and found her waiting for him. 

“I thought you said ya’d be naked?” He bit his lip into a lopsided smirk, eyeing the way the thin material of her shirt proudly displayed her cleavage down to the way she had crossed her legs, purposely hiding herself away from him. 

He swallowed the sudden saliva coating his inner cheeks, mouthwatering at the sight, body thrumming at the thought of what awaited him. 

She stood up, hands behind her back as she glanced downwards at herself before lifting her head to him, a bold glimmer settling across her features, her silent invitation. “How about instead, I give you the joy of ripping this off of me. Have you work for it.” 

“So thoughtful of ya.” He followed her pace, tagging along as he closed in the distance, teasing with a hand to his chest at pretend gratification. “I really appreciate it.” 

He took one more step as she extended her hand towards him, grasping his shirt. He chased the motion and pulled her in his arms before tipping her way, ghosting his lips over hers until they firmly pressed. 

He then cupped her cheeks, holding her gently as he deepened the caress. The strokes were gentle – sickeningly sweet to a roaming eye, as she sunk into the way the ale was coating his tongue; she had felt it heavy in the warmth of his breath, and how the taste lingered – bittersweet. 

She let him hold on to her as she reached for the layers of clothes that covered him still; they only parted for the second she removed his shirt, the item thrown carelessly onto the ground before her arms rested back around his shoulders, searching for the delectable kiss in candlelight.  

Catering to both their needs for closeness, he swiftly lifted her up, her legs encircling his waist as he moved them closer to his bed. 

He lingered at the edge, simply standing as she held on for dear life, her nails softly digging into his jaw and cheeks.  

Without letting her go, he eventually took his seat and settled her on his lap. He let himself fall within the warmth of her embrace, to the way she wrapped around him, seeking air from his lungs as he searched for peace. An urgent need rummaged into his chest, a shovel digging for anything but death and war – a lost treasure. 

She felt a tightened hold about her waist, fingers clutching at the fabric of her shift; an unsettled feeling stroked beneath her breastbone as she pulled away, silently catching her breath.  

“What’s wrong?” An affectionate touch spread across his cheeks as worry raised into the softened streams of her hazels.  

“Nothing.” He breathed out, locking his gaze onto hers. 

She pulled back and saw the lie trembling within the depth of his hues; they were at a standstill as she observed him. 

He had tried to look away, a sudden shyness creeping up in the pit of his stomach but she stopped him, fingertips to his beard as she tilted forward and gently brushed her nose to his.  

She gifted him a tender kiss and whispered closely, catching the glimmer of the hearth in his brown eyes.  

“Finan... Let me take care of you.” 

He could only stare at her, her words slowly settling within his teared down mind. He couldn’t muster a response, his only source of communication the careful gestures he bestowed upon her form.   

She slowly pushed him to lie down and hovered above him while still holding onto each other’s sight.  

She took a moment, her nails lightly grazing at his beard. She wore a simple smile, a small pull from the corner of her lips as she lowered herself towards him. Another kiss across the pink of his skin, he kept her unmoving as he caught her with his arms around her body, hands slipping down her back. She teased him, faintly rolling her hips and earned a muffled grunt from the back of his throat; she repeated the movement once again, the pressure tightening between her thighs.  

She then hid her face in his neck, keeping up with her pampered touch as she found the ties of his pants.  

Feeling the slip of her hand between their bodies, he helped her undress him by kicking off his boots and pulling down his trousers. She was slowly slithering down, mouth to skin as she trailed pecks down his chest. She discarded his last piece of clothing, finding herself at the edge of his bed.  

He waited for the mattress to dip again, his eyes to the ceiling before he leaned on his elbows and watched her stare back at him. She was biting down her inner lip and took a moment as she reached for her shift, removing it and baring herself in front of him as he was. 

He sat up, drawn forward by his own enthrallment, his breath stuck within the confines of his lungs. 

He stretched his arm, grabbing her fingertips and tugged her his way until she stood between his legs. She looked down at the way his beard scratched her stomach as he pressed soft kisses to her flesh. She bit down her bottom lip, hands holding the back of his head while feeling his own trailing down her back to her cheeks and thighs. 

He inhaled deeply, the subtle scent coating her skin sweetly intoxicating him, lulling him further into distraction. 

She caught his attention as she slowly pulled away from his squeeze. He raised his head to her, his gaze shadowing her movement as she lowered herself to the ground.   

A shaky breath escaped his parted mouth, titillated by the way she presented herself to him; her palms rubbed against his thighs as she kneeled before him, her chin upwards. He glanced down at the swell of her breasts before meeting her eyes, enraptured by the honeyed glow of her irises, the darken room inexistent under her colors.  

His stare was unbendable as he intently watched her with a dry throat. 

A violent groan rasped passed his lips, his head tilted back as he gripped his sheets. He cursed, his lungs tied to the weight in his chest, with her name slipping in a strained echo within the walls of his rooms. 

She anchored herself with her nails carved into his hips, the ploy performed by her tongue seducing gluttonous breath out of his slacked jaw, his whimpered string of profanities – a sweet melody to her ears. 

Enraptured by the way she suctioned her cheeks, keeping him wet and warm, he grabbed her curls, forcing dishevelment amongst her braids as he tensed, his head falling back in pure pleasure. 

He was tied down by her chords, sinful vibrations passing through her swollen lips as her own carnal ache thrummed between her thighs. She became a prayer intertwined into his marrow, her name smothered under tantalizing heat. 

She sought his pleasure continuously, unrelenting as every twist and twirl of her tongue, the sliver of graze from her teeth, earned her grunted blasphemies from his mouth, hisses and hitched exhales into the thick air around them. 

Ignoring the simmering bruises to her knees, she felt him tense, his grip tightening as he looked down, his hues struck by her wanton teasing; he let go, submerged under ecstasy as a hefty exhalation rapidly escaped his lungs. 

He fell back onto the bed, catching his breath while running a hand down his flushed face. 

He felt her slip away and shifted his gaze to her climbing back onto the mattress, finding her seat as she straddled his lap. She kept her eyes on him, cleaning the corners of her mouth with her fingertips. He sat back up, arms snaked around her waist while closely watching the way she licked her lips, a silent swallow gracing her ears.  

He quickly claimed her reddened flesh, latching on lustfully. She felt him twitch underneath her, the taste of himself across her tongue igniting his desire anew. 

He engulfed her breath, holding hostage every drop of her taste for his own, a primal need that burned within his very core and kept her slightly lightheaded while still grounding her to his strokes. 

His hands slithered to her back, pushing her firmly with her breasts in heated friction against his chest; a muffled moan slipped away from her, the contact enticing as it burrowed into the pit of her stomach, forcing a clench between her legs. 

She barely broke away from him as she slid her right arm down his stomach to their joint hips. A light gasp fanned across her swollen lips as he felt her gently stroke him while she leaned on her bruised knees, high enough to graze herself against him. 

Mouth ajar, a strained moan fumbled at the back of her throat, the teasing touch causing shivers to violently scrape her bare skin. The thicker the pressure at her hips, her head instinctively fell back, 

She glanced down to catch him staring at her just as she slowly sunk onto him, the thickening pressure increasing at her hips and causing a twist in her voice as she called for him, cursing his name unabashedly.  

He stilled, taking in the way unadulterated pleasure etched beautifully across her features, flushed and whimpering. His heartbeat deafening him to the sound of his own exhales, his body trembled under such weight, lechery at its finest in this night. 

She settled back onto his lap, her bruised joints finding comfort resting on the sheets.  

Hitched breath tickled his lips, warmth spread across a she took a moment of enjoyment, the feel to be back in his arms this way maddening.  

He searched for her lips, capturing them then as she timidly tilted her hips. She listened to his panting, the stuttered groan grasping at his throat while he pressed her further against him, every piece of her fitting within him.  

They took their time, the thrusts gentle as stolen kisses and rough skin strokes were in precedence; she needed his attention, to bask in thrill amidst the tragedy hanging above him, puppet strings cutting into his flesh.  

She knew he was keeping it together for appearances – from the moment she greeted him this night, she could see a darken shadow suffocating him, drowning in eyes, his posture, his shoulders. The fury, grief and exhaustion were simple friends as they held hands. 

The desire to digress from such gloomy depth and lure him into her arms, lovers delight seeping through careful gestures and sound; it was the soft call of his name, the gentle ‘Look at me’ from her lips to his, to the breathless ‘Touch me' as she guided his hands along her form, the heat in his palms raising her skin from her breasts down her waist, and down her back.  

He continued of his own accord, carving her flesh into his creases, pleasure thriving beneath his fingertips. 

She held his gaze in fervent strength, a lustre of vulnerability crossing over their bare flesh. They latched onto one another, the ombre swirling between her brightened hazel to his darker hue; they were unrelenting, stubborn – a sliver of obsession, a shadow of possession, rooted into their frantic embrace, the tied threads simmering, humming to every thrust, every crescent, every drip sliding down limb to limb. 

She slowly felt overpowered under the weight of his stare, her body trembling – resonating against his touch. Her pace quickened, the friction between their hips ceaseless, delectable. And she was cursing sweet nothings between their lips, the letters of his name sculpted into her chords, a lust-filled melody haunting his ears.  

Overwhelmed, her head dropped backwards, her chest following as she anchored herself to him, her left arm grasping his shoulder while the other fell to his leg. 

She stayed in his view, watching as she submerged under their pooling pleasure, seeking the rushed waves as adrenaline pumped through her veins.  

He tightened his hold on her and swiftly pivoted, landing her on her back as he hovered over her.  

She gasped, taken aback as he took over without interruption, the strokes consuming and hips rutting in greed. 

He pressed his forehead to hers, warm breaths mingling in heavy steps as his hands wandered – a must – until their fingers interlaced. Comfort waved through, her surreal presence settling into his reality the way a breath of fresh air seeks lungs for nestling. 

He hadn’t realized how much he had missed her – the sound of her voice singing into his ears, the softness of her skin rubbing lovingly against his calloused tone, the depth of her gaze always searching for his even under the cover of darkness.  

He caught her lips, stealing kisses every chance he got as he still held her underneath him, hips bruising – yearning.  

He was pursuing her shadow, despair clawing at him knowing she was a temporary presence; his muscles tensed as his mind dragged him back to their separated time. The sudden restlessness that was roaming in the pit of his stomach crept back ever so slowly, every moan rolling down her tongue a knock into reality. 

She had become an unexpected presence in his life, an unintentional friend – an emblem to the freedom he had been given. She was entwined into the cracks of him, pulling him together into a state of perpetual hope, solace, forthcoming by her reappearances. 

He savored the thrusts, the appetite euphoric with her clinging to him as if afraid to let go – the thought of parting from him, of losing his warmth as he filled her lasciviously left her delirious over the nights she had ached for him, over the years and oceans that separated them. 

Her muffled moan snaked across his tongue, inciting a groan as he deepened their kiss, the brushes languid as his hand rested on her throat, thumb to chin as to tilt to the angle he wanted. He then trailed down her neck, swollen lips tender against her skin while the trim of his beard scratched her carelessly.  

Her eyes rolled to the back of her head while she tightened her legs around his hips, falling into an utter state of bliss. He felt her body quiver as her nails dug into his waist – shivers ran down his spine, his pace faltering until he slowed down and lingered, taking his time, relishing in the sweet ecstasy coating them longingly.  

He lied on top of her, hiding in her neck while her breath lingered by his ear, her thighs lazily resting by his hips, caving under pressure, and her fingers grazing his back soothingly. 

She inclined her head his way, closing her eyes for the moment as to enjoy the simplicity of their position – the way the weight of his body fit with ease over her own. She felt the press of his lips atop the glistened layer of her skin, a tender gesture he trailed along her shoulder. 

Reaching the end, he pulled away and slowly slid to her left while she pulled the disheveled sheets and fur around them, the fire still bright as it heated his room. She then shifted in her seat as she stretched her legs, wanting to nestle closely to him. She laid on her back, his arm around her with her left elbow lazily bent, her fingertips feathers above him. 

Finan could feel the heaviness on his shoulders partially drifting away, a faint sense of ease covering him; it was the pant heaving from her chest that soothed him, her presence an everlasting solace. He mindlessly played with her hair, fingers lumpish within the entangled locks while caressing her head. 

He was staring at his ceiling, lost in thought while his exhales steadied, the rush of adrenaline dissipating into the beads of sweat across his bare flesh. 

He felt her slip her fingers through his, silently searching for his hand to hold. He let her, his right arm following the movement as she brought his knuckles to her lips. He smiled, squeezing his hold on her and tilted slightly, his nose stroking her hair before kissing her sweetly. 

She moved again, gently enough to press herself further to his waist. He set a soft breath out, a burgeoning need to never let her go settling into his core – despite knowing it was futile. 

“Where are ya headed next?” The gruffness in his voice pulled her back to reality, his question a slight tug at her heart. 

She sighed quietly, her gaze unfocused. “Irland... I owe my father a visit.” She started tracing patterns over his chest, pensive. “Have you ever thought of going back? 

The silence was cut short, the minute dropping as he took his time to answer. 

“I haven’t really... I don’t think I’ll ever see it again.” 

She frowned and shifted to lean on her elbow, her eyes finding his. “Why not? It’s your home, is it not?” Genuine curiosity prickling at her brow.  

He was caressing her arm, his right still placed around her as he moved his own left to rest behind his head. “Not anymore... Coccham is my home now.” 

She took on the dramatics, an exaggerated groan shaking her tongue. “Ugh, but Irland is so much better!” She coaxed a smile out of him, her playful whining earning a soft laughter. He patted her arm and turned away, his hues facing the top of his home once again, the grin fading. 

“There are days where I wonder about it, but... not enough to want to go back.” She listened, watching the somber expression heavy on his features. He tilted his eyes back to her once again. “There is nothing left there for me anymore. I was a warrior until I wasn’t.” 

She lingered across the faint anguish coloring the depth of his browns; she could sense he wanted to change the subject, the dismissive tone laced in his lilt giving her a nudge. 

A weak bite into her inner lip, he moved to stroke her cheek, sweeping strands away to rest behind her ear. She slid closer to him, hovering above and leaned down to share the tender kiss – a moment of peace passing through them, her questioning of his motherland turning to dust.  

“What of ya?” He retraced her lips, his callused thumb enjoying the smoothness of her skin. 

She puckered the muscles, pecking his touch quickly before following with an answer. 

“My family may have settled there after leaving Norway, but Irland is not my home. And Coccham is definitely not it either.”  

He chuckled, his arm falling down as she leaned on her elbow once more. “I have never truly thought of it, really. A home... I just know I never was one for land, and farming and everything in between.” 

Restless, she switched positions again, lying back down as Finan followed, facing her while she took her turn to gaze upwards.  

Her words dug from the underground an inaudible inquiry – an opaque wondering, a glimpse into a scenario that could never be, a drawing settling into his mind for a split of a second. 

“Ya never thought of settling down?” Kára was young, her future ahead of her – the smallest piece of his shadow pondered if she had even thought about such a path. 

“I don’t think it was ever meant for me.” She turned her head to look at him, catching his stare as she responded, a layer of improbability stuck to the back of her throat. “I was born on a ship in the middle of nothing but water... and just maybe that is why I could never settle.” A lopsided grin, ever so timid, rose to her cheek. “Or at least that is what my father says of me – that I am a true seafarer. A true daughter of Njörd.” 

“And what do you say of yourself?” He had moved his arm over her stomach, palm stroking her sweetly, warmth spreading to both bodies. 

She contemplated, taking a moment before meeting him with a mischievous glint in her hazels. 

“That this traveler needs to ride out the sea.” 

He matched her smirk, his lips stretching as he teased. “I can help with that.” 

She played along, expressing disbelief to his proposal. “I don’t think so. Your Irish waters are weak. I need something stronger-” Her tone dropped, seduction rising as it slipped down her tongue, warm breath tickling him. “-robust. Rough.”  

He startled her, earning a squeal as he leaped to hover above her and pinning her arms above her head; a light laughter followed, amused by his sudden change in behavior.  

He lowered closer to her, parting her thighs with his knee as he pressed himself against her breasts, re-awakening temptation into their midst. He trailed one hand down her form, resting it below her hips with his eyes never leaving hers as he took in the way her mouth parted, a hitched breath floating between them. 

She arched her back slightly, a teasing gesture earning a bite from his lips, taunting her. 

“We should prepare ya for a storm then.” 

     He spent the next morning with his head between her thighs, stirred by having woken up with her pressed comfortably against his chest. 

It had followed with a slow roll out of bed, Kára pushing Finan to break his fast while she had remained distant, her own plans in their finishing touches. 

She then walked to the great hall, finding him sitting with Uhtred and Gisela, calmly chatting with their plates and cups slowly emptying. 

She took her place behind her friend and placed her hands on his shoulders as she tilted her head towards Uhtred. 

“I am taking him for the day.” The tone had been set as an order more than it was a request. 

Gisela quietly chuckled, her eyes falling to her husband as he stared back at the newcomer dumbfounded. He then glanced to Finan, the Irishman shrugging his shoulders as he waited for a response.  

Uhtred simply nodded, nudging his head for the young man to go – speechless. 

A satisfied grin on her face, Kára took his hand as he got up, and walked out. As she reached the entrance, she quickly turned back and shouted. 

“Oh, and don’t expect him until sundown!” 

Without letting room for protest, she pivoted and led Finan away, both bodies walking towards the stables. 

“Where are we going?” He was puzzled, curiosity set in his brows as he let her lead the way, his arms tensed from her pull. 

She pivoted her head to him, a teasing smirk cornering her lips. “You’ll see.” 

He found two horses with their saddles on, bags, furs and blankets tied to each of them. He stilled and watched as she continued, quietly greeting them with gentle petting before grasping at their reins and tugging them back his way. 

She handed him his own, a spark of excitement floating across the green of her eyes. “Ready?” An instinctive smile stretched into his cheeks as he nodded. “Ready.” 

Climbing on and riding away, she led the march out of Coccham and into the woods with Finan trailing by her side. 

He had remained quiet for a few minutes, waiting to see if she would reveal the secrecy she was withholding; she noticed the stolen glances from the corner of her eyes and smirked, amused by the way intrigue prickled at the furrow brow atop him. 

“You’re staring.” 

“Ya are kidnapping me.” 

She turned his way, her grin still apparent. “It’s not kidnapping when you will be returning later.” 

He matched her smile and shook his head as he shifted his gaze back to the road ahead of them. “Where are ya bringing me?” 

“You’ll see.” He could hear the mischievous intonation in her words, stretching wider the beam dimpling into his cheeks.  

He glanced back towards her, catching the glimmer of amusement in her eyes. “A woman of mysteries.” 

“That is my charm, Irishman.”  

He chuckled at her response and continued the ride, light jests shared between them. 

They eventually then made their stop, Kára halting her horse after the hour had dropped; Finan followed, both bodies climbing down their horses before they continued on foot while still holding onto the reins. 

She took the lead once again, carefully walking through a dampen cave passage, the sound of water echoing all around them.  

To the other side, the area seemed to have been secluded from the rest of the world. The indistinct sound of insects chirping rallied as they hid within the foliage, the trees framing the scenery as they reflected across the serene creek, its rhythmic voice setting the tranquil atmosphere. The mixture of rocks and boulders were comfortable within and around the body of water, the trunks of weeping willows, birch and elms closed in around them, cutting off outside pollution. 

Finan stood breathless as he took in the lush greenery blinding his gaze. 

Kára let him be as she continued down her path, carefully guiding her horse to the willow a few feet away.  

“If ya wanted me by yourself, you could’ve said so.” 

She tied the harness to a low branch before turning to face him, scoffing dramatically. “And be disturbed by Uhtred?” He had approached her close enough, she grasped at the collar of his armor and tugged him her way playfully, a sham of a threat gracing her features. “I’d rather kidnap you.” 

He fell into step, adding theatrics of his own. “So, this is a kidnapping!” He then inclined her way with the tip of his nose grazing hers. “I knew it.” 

She giggled at his antics and let him go, both turning around and undressing their horses as they removed the weight off their backs and placed them by the tree’s roots. She pulled a small bag of apples and dropped it at their feet, the fruits toppling over while Finan handled the blankets and the rest of the baggage.  

She followed with the saddles, placing hers gently on the ground before moving onto the next one; just as she was untying the second seat, Finan grabbed her hand, pivoting her towards him. He placed a hand to her neck, thumb stroking her jawline, and tenderly kissed her lips.  

Without pulling away, he mumbled a soft ‘thank you’ a timid smile gracing her view.  

He reached for her loosened braid, her locks soft under his touch. 

She watched him, attempting to capture a reaction as her heart squeezed. “Does it still bother you?” She still remembered the discomfort he felt the first time they sat close to each other, the day she had tended to his wounds, the breeze forcing him to breathe in the salt in her curls.  

He noticed the quiet distress in her hazels. “It hasn’t been that long.” The faint uncertainty laced into her voice, the distant tremor of fear rooting her to the grass – a slight tug tore at the pit of his stomach. 

He cupped her cheeks, another shared kiss in a try-out for reassurance.  

It wasn’t enough to convince her. 

Despite their physical closeness, a part of her hung onto the fear of being pushed away. 

“You don’t have to hide from me, Finan. You can tell me.” 

“I know. But I promise ya, I am not bothered by it.” She swallowed the lump in her throat and clenched her jaw, holding onto the tears glazing the corners of her eyes.  

Finan pulled on the tie keeping her hairdo together and watched as the ends detangled. 

“Ya’ve got the sea air, and so every time I breathe it in, it will remind me of you.” He continued un-doing her braid, the strands flowing freely around her shoulder. “You’ve made it into something that doesn’t frighten me anymore.” 

Her breath hitched, taken aback by his confession. She ignored the heat creeping up to her cheeks, her eyes struck by the way he was gazing at her, tender affection coated within his irises.  

She bit her bottom lip, stifling a smile, and took a step backwards, breaking the embrace.  

They kept their sight on each other, her smile widening as she kept her teeth to her pink skin.  

“Rid of your clothes.” She ordered before she followed, kicking off her boots, removing her weapons and discarding her armor, her own wear falling atop the open blankets.  

He peered closely her way, hues retracing the way she discarded her garments, from the way her trousers had swiftly dropped around her ankles to the way she pulled at the hem of her shirt, passing it over her head and throwing it. 

She took a step towards the water, her back facing him with her hands reaching into her curls, finishing detangling her braids. 

Feeling the heavy gaze, she turned to look at him, finding him leaning against the willow, arms crossed over his chest. She rolled her eyes, her grin dimpling into her burning cheeks. “What?” 

“Nothing.” 

She chuckled, shaking her head. “Liar.” 

She turned back, the hairdo gone and ruffled her roots, fingers scratching her scalp and easing their previous strain. She then dove into the water, disappearing from Finan’s sight for a moment, the quiet settling in for a short minute before she resurfaced. 

He was still eyeing her, stare unwavering as they shadowed her every move – a complete state of limerence. 

She swam around to face him. “Join me!” 

“Is that an order?” He pulled away from the trunk and walked towards the edge of the water, untying his sword belt.  

“I’m afraid it is.” He stared at the way the shivers covered her skin down her exposed breasts. Her arms were afloat, shaping the water by the sides of her body with her hair slick back and freshly damp. “Come on, the waters are freezing without you.” 

He made a quick turnaround, removing his clothes and marching to her until he sunk to the water, continuing his way towards her. 

They held their eyes to each other, her body dipping under the surface down her nose. He kept swimming until the creek reached his waist. Closing the distance separating them, she slowly stood up with her hazels stuck to his own gaze. 

Hand to her cheek, she leaned into his touch as he stroked her skin. “Better?” 

She nodded shamelessly, the corner of her lip caught between her teeth. “Much better.” 

Her fingertips pressed delicately across his pink skin and trailed towards his toned chest and stomach, teasing the downwards motion to his hips.  

She retraced the way his skin raised to her touch, watching as his muscles ticked under the tip of her nails, the tickling soothing to his limbs.  

She kept going, arrowing downwards, eyes up to him. 

He leaned his forehead against hers, mouth slightly parted as he thought of what to say – the flirtatious caress along his form was freeing, calming. 

She was tending to his wounds – a silent promise to care for him, as she had done last night. 

And as tempting as it was, he found himself only wanting to hold her, to indulge in the way her body would melt into his, arms holding her tight, and simply savor her presence. 

He carefully took her wrist, stopping her from slipping past his hips under water. 

“I don’t need... that. I just...” The low tone of his voice made her frown. She searched for his gaze, curious. He breathed out his last words, his shoulders depleting. “I just need you.” 

An ache hid beneath the surface of his browns, an unfamiliar yearning – it was the simple need to be embraced without the shadow of carnal delight hanging above them.  

She was his refuge to the storm that had numbed him, a shelter, a fire keeping the cold at bay.  

She was unencumbered by the loss at Beamfleot, though still understood the woes of war. 

“Alright.” The soft reply slipping from her lips, she shared the smallest of kisses on his cheek as she placed her arms on his shoulders, hands falling into the void behind them.  

They shared an intimate breath, lips – feathers between one another, as they stood still, time halting by their side. 

He held her by the waist, pulling her closer until they were flushed together, hiding in the crook of her neck. She closed her eyes, falling into the feel of him warmly pressing against her cold skin. He continued down her shoulder and trailed backwards until he kissed the spot right under her ear, gooseflesh running amuck. 

The tranquility of their moment soon was interrupted – the horses pulling them out of their reverie, agitated. 

Both turning their attention to the right, Finan instinctively pulled her nearer, acting as her shield as tension crept up across his limbs. 

She eyed the area, glancing between the horses and the rustling sound coming from a few feet across them. Kára wasn’t frightened – had it been intruders, they would have shown themselves by now.  

She shifted her eyes back to Finan, the man still seemingly on edge. “Finan. Look at me.” She forced him to pivot her way, hands to his cheeks as she caught his stare. “We’re safe.”  

The distant bushes continued stirring until a fox slipped through the low branches.  

The horses distanced themselves, slowly calming down just as Finan let out a breath of relief, his shoulders dropping. 

Kára giggled, her head resting on his chest before she pulled away, smacking him with the surface of the creek. 

She flickered water his way once again, pulling his attention away from the shore and back to her as she continued swimming away from his grasp. 

He complied, catching up to her and quickly caught her back in his arms as he blocked her own, her back pressed against him.  

The reverie had settled back in, bringing comfort to the two characters as she digressed reality into her back pocket, stretching the slumber for a few more moments with the laughter and antics simmering beneath the surface. 

     They hid under the shade of the weeping willow, sitting atop the blankets and fur she had brought from the village. 

She laid her back against the trunk while he rested between her legs, head to her stomach with her knee bent over his shoulder, her bare feet enjoying the feel of the grass. 

She ran her fingers through his shaved scalp, nails soothingly scratching random patterns as she tilted back, eyes closed, the warm breeze seeping through the bended branches. 

It was midday and the sun hung high above them, warming bodies and lands as it lulled them into a state of bliss and comfort; the horses were resting, and the fox was asleep a few feet away from the couple, having searched for its own shade under the leaves. 

Clothes were discarded, the use of blankets partially covering them; being the only two people in the world, decency had no pertinence. 

 They were quiet, the comfort of each other’s company enough to soothe any lingering worries away; Finan had slowly fallen into a light state of slumber, enjoying being in her arms. 

Their moment of peace was then halted, a grumble disrupting them. 

A light laughter slipped from her tongue soon after, realizing the origin of the noise. 

“Is that the call for hunger or do we have another animal roaming about?” 

She felt his body shake atop hers, his own mirth laced with her own as he placed his hands to his stomach and tilted his head upwards, attempting to catch a glance of her from the corner of his eyes. “I didn’t realize how hungry I was. Did ya bring anything for us to eat? Or is it all for the horses only?” 

A soft giggle graced his ear as she leaned over, her palms sliding down his muscles. “I brought us some bread, nuts and fruits.” She placed her chin on his collarbone. “I couldn’t get away with the meat, so we will need to hunt.” 

He hummed in response while pushing himself to sit upright and then reached for his trousers as she sat on her knees, hugging him once again, her arms wound around his shoulders. “How about I do the heavy lifting and you get started with the fire?” She kissed his cheek then trailed down to his neck as he leaned against her, instinctively smiling and agreeing to her proposal. 

The campfire was bright, its hues in harmony to the sunbeams still bright above them.  

Kára came back with small traps in both her hands, satisfied with her catch as she wore faint smudges of dirt across her face and arms. 

Finan watched as she dangled their feast in front of him, a grin etched across his cheeks, amused by the spark in her steps.  

The meat cooked, the fruits and nuts laid out, the bread fresh and in pieces – their meal were plenty, filling his appetite as the atmosphere dipped into light banter and jest. 

Their little companion had found a seat next to Kára, silently sniffing and waiting to be fed; she obliged, splitting bits and pieces of the last remaining raw rabbit to give to the little one, the furry friend never leaving her side.  

“I think he likes ya.” He stared at his friend’s new pet while nibbling on fruit, teasing laced in his vocals.  

“He’s got good taste.” She turned to Finan, playfully winking while she petted the animal.  

He chuckled and wrapped one arm around her shoulder, pulling her near as to lay a kiss to her temple before turning back to face the small fire.  

She placed her head on his shoulder, the pet slithering its way to rest between her feet, quietly finishing its lunch. 

She sensed Finan sobering up, his silence suddenly suspenseful.  

“Where did you go?” There was sliver of strain in her voice as she rested her chin on his shoulder, coaxing him to turn her way. She lifted her head, her fingers stroking his beard gently as he looked in her eyes, the glimmer of green shining under the sun.  

He leaned against her, bumping the tip of his nose with hers before stealing a kiss, the humble gesture preparing his response. 

“Nowhere near as interesting as your travels.” 

She huffed a chuckle, noticing the subtle way he pushed for a new line of inquiry. 

And she followed with no hesitation. 

“Where are ya headed after Irland?” 

They held each other’s eyes, a tenderness to the gaze as she caressed his cheek, the back of her knuckles soft against his beard.  

“We’ll sail East… maybe visit the Greeks again, see what new treasures they’ve discovered.” 

A small smile dimpled the left side of his cheek, tone low as he spoke, the spark in her honeyed stream conjuring curiosity. “Tell me more.” 

She shared a quiet laugh, grasping the bottom lip between her teeth. “Where do you want me to start?” 

She met his wishes, leading their talks as she reminisced of her past voyages, the trials and tribulations, the people she’s met to the lands she visited, down to her small crew – a group of seafarers just like herself, who craved the taste of adventure and thrived amongst the seas. 

He listened intently, observing the way her lips curved in excitement, her cheeks dimpling into a brightened smile, to the way the glint in her hazels lured him in, enthralled by her exuberance. She spoke with a light step in her voice, a silent promise she made to herself, to share her discoveries with him, to gift him the pleasures of such a life by her side, to present the wonders right at his feet. 

Her words hung to his ears, thrumming within his core and aching – ambivalence settled beneath his breastbone, a bittersweet taste coating his marrow into a state of admiration; his heart slipping down his sleeve, every tug shadowed her spoken syllables, its pulsation reverence and cowardice. 

An invisible thread pulled him further towards her, enraptured by her presence – an aura exquisite under the timid sun beams. 

“You should see the world…”  

They had moved to lie on the ground, side by side as she had shifted her gaze, looking up while Finan glanced between the open air above him, to his left with his hues taking her in, the glow of the afternoon seeping through the tree leaves. 

She turned her head to him as she spoke, catching his eyes. “This doesn't have to be your life, you know. There are beautiful lands out there that are worth more than this entire country…” She bit her inner lip, teeth digging into the soft tissue in hope. “You should join me, come see it with me.” Her tone softened, serenating as she leaned closer to him. “Let me take you to see the world, Finan.” She turned, pushing her weight to hover above him, her elbow taking the pressure and facing him as she caught the hint of a smile appearing across his lips. “Leave Wessex behind, and come with me. No more battle, no more war, just food and drinks and women until you are blue in the face.” 

He let a chuckle rumble down his tongue, a pensive gaze stitched over his brow as he stared back to foliage above him. 

The moment seemed to have stopped – even though it had been short, it felt to have dragged itself through the mud, a disappointment that had been both forthcoming and yet still heartbreaking. 

She sighed, not withholding her displeasure. “Uhtred it is then…” She sat up, arms wrapped around her bent knees. 

Finan quickly followed her, his shoulder to her blade. “Kára-” 

“It’s alright. I figured as much…” She tilted her head towards him, chin grazing her shift. Her eyes were cast downwards, giving herself a quiet exhale before meeting him, the faint saddened gaze imbued into her greens. “At least you are giving me a reason to come back.” She wore her lopsided smile, crafting an exit to their path. 

“I’m touched.” He kissed her, lips pressed to shoulder, a smirk hiding behind the gesture. 

She rolled her eyes, unable to stop her own grin. 

She then inclined his way, kissing him softly, and lingered before resting her forehead to his. 

He noticed the change in her demeanor, sensing her frown as if in thought. 

“What’s wrong?” 

She pulled away, meeting his gaze once more as she caressed his cheek. “When I didn’t find the brothers in Frankia… I knew something was wrong.” 

He leaned into her touch, in awe. “Ya came back for that?” 

She nodded, her hand patting him playfully. “I needed to make sure ya Irish arse was still breathing.” 

She mimicked his lilt, brewing a chortle from his lungs; she hid away her worry, the mere drop of imagining such loss weighing on her shoulders. 

They had gone the rest of the day with light jest and quips, bringing back the needed distraction into their midst; she pulled him back into the water, having quickly discarded of her shirt before pulling down his trousers and dragging him away from their burned-out campfire. 

The fox had gone and the horses rested still, nibbling at whatever fruit and greens laid at their hooves. 

Only the light laughter – the teasing plays and childish bantering had coated the breeze within this small place, the drops of water from the stream fall, to the music of insects adding layers to their afternoon. 

     He woke up in a frantic state, startled as sweat hugged his skin. 

He was catching his breath, attempting to recuperate as he took a moment to absorb his surrounding; the darkness of the night silently greeted him, the hearth’s embers becoming but decor in this time.  

Sitting up, he rubbed his face and ran his hand across his shortened hair, anxiety crippling under his chest as it pierced through his lungs, palpitations heavy. 

He didn’t feel the bed dipping behind him – it was the soft call of his name that pulled him away from his anguish. 

“Finan?” 

She slipped her arms around his shoulders as she sat up, and felt the slight sweat slipping off his back along the tension in his muscles. “Nightmare?”  

“Mhmm.”  

She pressed her nose against his cheek and wound her arms closer. “You are safe, Finan.” She whispered soothingly as she turned his head her way, catching his tired gaze. “You are well, and you are safe.” 

He leaned back against her, closing his eyes and listening to her words, his breath steadying.  

She helped him shift his focus to her touch, to the warmth spreading from her body with her hand placed on his chest, guiding his lungs as she controlled his exhales. 

He tilted his head further towards her, stealing a soft kiss before breaking away, resting over her brow.  

She stopped speaking and breathed with him, caressing his chest gingerly – lovingly. 

The minute had passed, her own worries draping over her. 

“Finan...” He met her eyes, noting the slight frown she carried. “What happened with the brothers? Why the strain?” 

He hesitated, looking away and in front of him.  

She pulled him back in, finding a seat next to him while taking her hand into his, resting them on her lap, the other stroking his beard. 

The longer he held her gaze, the comfort of her touch – he found a slither of courage reaching the surface; it was slow, but the words slipped out of his tongue, shaking the ground as he counted the events of the battle of Beamfleot, shivers scurrying across his skin. 

To the death of Clapa, Kára teared up, having grown fond of the gentle giant. 

Her heart broke, Finan’s tale and state wrenching anguish into her bones. 

His confession brought her closer, the bewilderment sitting atop him – puzzled by why this battle was tearing him apart. 

“Some are harder than others. Especially when you were close to death...”  

There was a light tremble to her last word. He turned to her, detecting the glimmer in her eyes, the tear drowning her hues. “You almost died. You lost a dear friend- the night in itself... It was a disaster.”  

She took a deep breath, pivoting away from his gaze. She instead moved, resting her head on his shoulder and squeezed his hand in hers, a self-reassurance of his presence by her side. 

She swallowed the lump in her throat, both of them sitting in silence for the moment that passed. 

“There is nothing but death and war...” 

The sober tone in his voice sent chills down her spine. She felt the break in his heart and carried it as she turned back to him. 

“Penance for being a warrior, I’m afraid.” 

She leaned in, stroked his cheek once more before gently pecking his lips. She then pulled away and silently invited him back to bed, the sheets covering them comfortably. 

He buried his face against her chest, letting her chin rest on his head as her leg wrapped around him, her arms encircling his shoulders – a shield. She raked her fingers against the back of his scalp, her nails soothingly scratching while he breathed in deeply, pushing himself flush against her. 

He found refuge across her collarbone and down her breasts, his lips seeking her bare flesh. He tugged her closer, every empty inch vanishing as limbs molded, a sculpture forming under nightlight. 

She sighed, the weight of his body demulcent as he moved her to lie on her back, sensing an urgent longing in his strokes, his fingers bruising her. 

She cupped his cheeks, forcing him to look at her, eyes meeting in the dark. She shared a small smile – a silent promise of reassurance, before gifting him a gentle kiss. He slowed down, resting his forehead on hers as a shaky breath escaped him, fanning timidly over her parted mouth. She swallowed, capturing his lips with her own and taking the lead in the lingering gesture while he settled between her legs. 

She wanted to give him the distraction he was craving, to create disassociation, to care for the present moment only – to fuck and forget for the few remaining hours they had left. 

To use her and relent all worries – to escape and drown under carnal desires, to lean on a primal need; to cope and pursue the physical pleasure instead. 

He did not let her go, tongue stroking hers while she felt his palms down her waist, raising her skin, until they rested on her thighs and parted them further. He then pulled away, trailing wet kisses down her stomach until he reached her hips. 

She arched her back, her fingers gripping at her pillow above her head as a strained moan vibrated passed her slacked jaw. 

She closed her eyes, ripping at the fabric of the sheets as he consumed her – a glutton. 

He held her down, toying with her pearl while his ears listened to the sighs he coaxed, her chords becoming an exhilarating rush quivering down to his core. He thrived; the distant call of his name, the way she was begging for more, pleading for release. 

She cursed, an annoyed groan slipping out of her, unable to grab onto his hair. Sensing what she was trying to do, her pleasure building in tandem with her frustration, he could only chuckle, the sound shaking beneath her hips. Hearing him, her huff turned into laughter – a small giggle running down her tongue as she made him pull away.  

He caught her eyes and noticed how she quickly glanced at his beard, the taste of her fresh on his tongue. 

She rolled her eyes, bumping her knee playfully against him. “Stop it- Just- Fuck, just come here.”  

The smirk remained across his lips, complying to her demand. He crawled back towards her as she wrapped her arm around him, tugging him near until his breath ghosted over her. She wiped his beard lightly with her fingertips, licking her own lips before she kissed him, taking a lick of herself along her tongue. He groaned, trembling under his chest as she teased him, her calf firm onto his backside – luring him to nestle in the cradle of her hips, begging to be filled, to clench around him as he rutted into her; to have him bury himself inside her, ecstasy aflame, mindless. 

He held onto her – his anchor, reclaiming her body as he gently rolled his hips, thrusting into her with careful movement. 

He hid his face in her neck and deeply inhaled. The infusion of her scent – the hint of rosemary and thyme, the whiff of earthy aroma clashing with the sea salt overflowed his senses. 

His grip of escape, the need for solace grew. He turned desperate the longer he remained between her thighs, pushing passed the anguish that lingered on his shoulders and making his sole purpose on this night to bring his lover to the brim of unadulterated bliss – to have her come undone once again under his touch. 

The room filled with heavy breaths, dirty nothings and the continuous friction of skin to skin – limbs glistening under every dimpled mark of teeth and lips, and fingers, in a drunken haze as haste and frantic, and greed engulfed them. 

Deception waited outside their door, counting down until it was time to part. 

     They stood by the entrance gates of the village, her horse by her side while her small group of men were exiting, ready to embark on their next journey after their short intermission. 

He was holding her hand and gently tugged her in his arms as he spoke. 

“Be safe. I beg ya.”  

The soft pleading laced into his words had faintly pushed at her chest. She breathed in deeply, closing her eyes, and took a moment before pulling away. 

She stretched her lips into a smirk. “Well, if you are begging...” He shook his head, amused by her cheeky reply. 

She then leaned towards him once again, placing a tender kiss to his cheek as she whispered her promise into his ear – a swift shift to a tender and honest approach. 

“Thank you for staying.” 

“That is what friends are for.” The way her eyes settled across his own, an attempt to reassure him of her presence, the depth she would go to for him – a silent callout for the care she held for him. 

He gave her a nod as a soft huff of a chuckle escaped him, his gaze shifting downwards. He ignored the slight twinge in his heart – her chosen words, a tremble to his core. 

A faint ache buried under her chest as she watched him, her brows furrowed into concern. 

“Are you going to be alright?” 

He could hear it in her voice, the slight anxious inquiry; he dismissed it and gave her a soft smile as his lips stretched into the one side of his cheek. “Aye.” 

One step forward and he pressed his forehead to hers.  

He took a moment, eyes closed and breathed her in, hands to her cheeks as he carefully stroked her skin, the need to touch her, constant. She met him, her palms wrapped around his wrists as he placed his lips to her hairline.  

She then kissed him, tilting her head slightly upwards until she reached him, the tender caress holding them close.  

“Don’t miss me too much, Irishman.” She spoke between their breaths, a hint of mischief slipping across her tongue. 

She noticed a slight spark across the brown of his eyes as a light chuckle tickled her ears; it had looked as if the storm had passed, its heaviness pushed into a distant horizon. 

“I won’t if you don’t.” 

She winked at him, giggling. “I’ll try then.”  

She gave him one last kiss before she climbed onto her horse.  

They bid each other another goodbye as he walked her to the other side of the gates. 

Once they parted, the smile curved across his lips fell slowly until it disappeared, his heart faltering in its step as it tumbled over a lost footing. 

--------

xoxo

taglist: @gemini-mama @iamfandomnerd @ladyinred2248 @gco95 @errruvande

[psystirene]

WC x Rain World Art Month

Little intermission before I make and post my Hunter design for Warriors x Rain World, a little family tree including Goldenheart (Monk), Yarrowleap (Survivor), as well as their parents and third sibling!

You can consider these relatives to be background characters, none of them are part of the clans, or at least not yet. I'll try to go in order (ramble under read more)!

also if anyone has questions about my AU. Feel free to ask <3

Hemlock - The father! Lock is a ginger shorthair cameo Mackerel (I know he doesn't look like it very much, I find "gray base with orange stripes" a bit hard to pull off). He was the loving mate of Carob, before he went missing and presumed dead. Taken away by Twolegs, never to be seen by his little family again... In reality, Hemlock was TNR'd. He is trying to find his mate and kits, but I feel like he's the sort of guy to get pulled into side quests along the way. Maybe run-ins with the Scavengers, helping some random cat, whatever.

Carob - The mother! Carob is a longhair fawn-and-cream calico, though she's mostly white. I'm gonna be honest, the poor she-cat is going through it. Raised in an underfunded, understaffed shelter, she has learned to cut her losses, no matter how much it hurts, especially when she's not the most well-versed in survival. First, Hemlock was captured by Twolegs, then, she lost two of her kits, (whom she had named after flowers in his honor, fun fact). No matter how devastating this loss was, she didn't think she had any chance of successfully going after Marigold and Waterlily (/Golden and Yarrow). She had to keep Yucca safe, who very much seemed like the runt at the time. Carob is still wandering around, now much older, with Yucca in toe.

(You know about Goldenheart and Yarrowleap already so I won't go into more detail now, this is already quite long. For what it's worth, though: Goldenheart is a longhair cream ticked tabby, Yarrowleap is a blue smoke shorthair with high white.)

Yucca - The fabled third sibling, Yucca is a silver ticked tabby. They are sort of a more adventurous and cheerful counterpart to their mother, though less blindly optimistic then one might consider Goldenheart. They were born the smallest and seemingly weakest of the lot, as such being quite coddled. Whether it be from not growing up alone or simple genetics, Yucca grew up to actually be quite a large and strong cat, moreso than Yarrow. Yucca, similar to their mom, doesn't have much hope in finding their siblings, though unlike her, they believe that they survived. In the midst of keeping themselves and Carob alive, they try to suss out any information they can. It hasn't been working out too well though, as the pair linger closer to the Twolegplace than the Clans.

[khunwriting]

[Cigarette Break]

Synopsis: While skipping classes, you get a nicotine craving and end up dragging your two best friends with you. 

Genre: Fluff

Pairing: Naughty Busters!Ichiro Yamada x Reader; Naughty Busters!Kuko Harai x Reader

While hanging out with your best friends, the usual nicotine itch that scratched at your throat was kicking back up again, and you were beginning to get antsy as a result. You were pretty vocal about needing a smoke break, and your two skipping buddies were okay with tagging along to the bathroom with you. However, it was usually a trip that you took on your own, so you didn’t quite realize how cramped it would’ve been with two more people in the same stall. 

It was awkward to stand in the tiny stall, and the three of you had to figure out quickly how to situate yourselves comfortably for the next handful of minutes till you got your craving satisfied. But with how you three were…

“You’re taking up so much room! Sit your ass down, Ichiro!” 

“I’m working on it, Kuko! Ugh, you reek, [Name],” “Fuck you, Ichi!”

…It was a surprise you haven’t gotten caught by the teachers.

With that thought in the back of your head, you had to resist the urge to stomp on Ichiro’s foot, his comment shooting a spike of irritation through your veins. With the way he was sitting on the toilet, Ichiro could easily spread his legs and push you into Kuko, who leaned against the stall door. If that were to happen, you were sure that it would’ve only gotten louder and end up with you guys getting caught. So instead, you just shot the taller boy a glare over your shoulder and tried to get comfortable between nearly straddling Ichiro’s leg and pressing yourself against Kuko’s body.

“It’s too fucking cramped!” The red haired monk hissed next to your ear, his warm breath hitting your neck. Peering over at the shorter boy, your eyes met with his narrowed gold ones, looking a tad annoyed. “Do you have to smoke in here!? Couldn’t we do it outside?”

“And get caught smoking on school grounds? Yeah, right,” You barked out with a huff. “Look I’m cool with skipping, but I’m not trying to get expelled. My mom will beat my ass if I get kicked out now,” 

“Yeah, but it’s super uncomfortable. Can’t stretch my legs with you guys in front of me,” Ichiro complained as he let his head lean against the wall behind him. At his words, both you and Kuko craned your head to give him a heated look. 

“Not my fault they make the only bathroom with a window have the smallest stall,” You snapped, jerking your head to motion at the window just above your head. With a strangled groan, your eyes darted between your best friends, scrunching up your nose. “Why are you guys complaining? You wanted to be in here with me!” 

Hearing your words, the two boys stiffened and darted their gazes away from your scowl. You realized you weren’t going to get any answers from them, making you roll your eyes and take your chance to finally get your smoke break.

You reached into your pocket, took out your pack, and placed a single cigarette between your lips. Letting it dangle for a few seconds, you grabbed your lighter, bringing it to your cigarette, not noticing the two pairs of eyes watching your movements. Upon lighting up the end, you took a deep inhale, holding it for a beat, before releasing it into the window above you, careful to not blow it into your friends’ faces. 

Instantly, it felt like that annoying scratch was ebbing away and the tension forming in your chest felt lighter. You couldn’t help the smile that stretched around the cigarette as you continued to inhale the smoke a few more times. Noticing that your usual loud-mouth friends were oddly quiet for once, you took the chance to tilt your head to look at Ichiro.

Said boy was still leaning back in his spot, his hands disappearing into the pockets of his hoodie. Though you don’t miss the way his eyes lingered on your mouth, staring at the cigarette sitting in between your lips. Your eyebrow quirked up in curiosity, taking the stick out of your mouth and extending your arm out to him. 

“You wanna try?” You asked, snapping him out of his thoughts. Ichiro blinked a few times, his gaze darting between your cigarette and your eyes. Then his expression scrunched up and his lips pursed into a frown.

“I’m a minor,” He stated simply, earning a deadpan stare from you, seeing as you both were the same age. 

“C’mon, you can beat up dudes for money, but you can’t smoke a cig?” You snorted, causing Kuko to snicker softly behind you. The boy’s cheek began to tint red and your eyes instantly took note of the rosy hue. Unable to hold back your smirk, you placed your cigarette back between your lips, speaking with a teasing lilt. “You’re so cute, Ichi,”

You turn back to chuckle with Kuko, causing the eldest brother to thrum with embarrassment. Without a second thought, Ichirou shifts his legs forward. His leg knocks into the back of your knees, making you nearly topple into the monk if his hands didn’t dart out to steady your taller form. His hands rested firmly at your sides while your hands shot out to plant next to Kuko’s head. The impact made the stall walls rattle as you tried to steady yourself.

“Shit, shit, sorry!” You apologized, pushing away from the monk’s personal space once you could. Your expression shifted to a vexed glower, turning to snap at the laughing boy. “Man, Ichi, what the hell!”  

Kuko could only watch as you finally stomped on your friend’s foot. Ichiro instantly bit down on his bottom lip to prevent the loud curses from slipping out, and he kneeled over to nurse his hurt foot. Standing over him, you let out another drag from your cigarette, flicking the ashes out the window. You let out a click of your tongue before turning to Kuko, holding out your cigarette.

“What about you, Ku? Wanna try?” Kuko let out a smirk, highly amused how you ignored the daggers Ichiro was sending your way. “I’m a monk. We’re not supposed to indulge in alcohol or drugs,” He shrugged, folding his arms across his chest. You blinked at him with an unimpressed purse of your lips. 

“And you’re not supposed to use violence either,” With your free hand, you began counting off other things. “Or hold money. Or swear. Or treat your elders like shit. Or—” 

“Shut up!” Kuko rasped out, rolling his eyes at your laughter. He reached his hand out, wiggling his fingers in a ‘come hither’ motion. “Yeah, yeah, I get it. Hand it over,”

You sent him a cheeky grin and placed the cigarette carefully between his fingers. Kuko stared at the object for a few seconds, not quite sure what to do. He had seen you done multiple times, but never actually attempted himself. He tried to recall the motion of going through the actions in his head and decided to try it himself finally.

Bringing the butt of the cigarette to his lips, Kuko took a deep inhale. Instantly, the smoke filled his mouth and it was all he could taste and smell. It’s nearly nauseating and he can feel tears welling up in his eyes. Unable to hold it back anymore, the monk begins hacking, his throat feeling incredibly irritated now.

“This shit fucking burns!” He spat out in between coughs. Even as you reach over to rub his back, the searing sensation in his chest still lingers. “How do you enjoy this crap?!” 

“It’s ‘cause you sucked it in too hard, too fast, Ku,” You answered with a small, apologetic smile. You took back your cigarette, bringing it close to your lips. “Let me help you out. When I’m done, just hold onto your breath for a sec, okay?”

Kuko nodded slowly, unsure of what you were planning. His gold eyes darted to Ichiro behind you, who peered around your body with a curious stare. But the monk’s attention was taken back to you as your free hand cupped his chin. You gave him a sweet smile and took a light drag of your cigarette. 

Then suddenly, your lips were on him. 

Kuko’s mind went instantly blank, never having felt someone’s lips on his own until now. But he vaguely felt your tongue pushing against his mouth and he unconsciously parted his lips. Then the familiar sensation of smoke filled his mouth, and that’s when he recalled your words.

You pulled away from the monk, watching Kuko follow your instructions. His chest stopped moving and he didn’t look as uncomfortable as he did just a few moments prior. 

“Breathe in normally, then exhale,” You commanded. Kuko did as he was told, and, slowly, white smoke left his lips in light wisps. You grinned widely, patting your friend’s cheek. “Good boy. Better now?”

“Shit still hurts,” He muttered with his chest still burning and his heart hammering against his ribcage.

“Yeah, well you get used to it after a while,” You mused as you gave him back his space. You turned back to look at your other friend, noticing his tinted cheeks and gaping mouth. His eyes were lingering back on your lips, blatantly staring. 

“Wanna try, Ichi?” Ichiro jumped at your voice, pressing his lips together. Your tongue slipped out to lick your bottom lip, amused that his gaze honed in on the action. You waved the small remaining bit of your cigarette, gesturing towards him. “I can do the same to you,”

“I’m a minor…” Ichiro mumbled, his heterochromatic eyes darting anywhere but you and Kuko. You chuckled at his words, trying to muffle the sound with your hand. Even as you did your best to silence the noise, the sound still came out nice to the two within range and they couldn’t help but join in on the laughter. Looking back at this memory in the future, you wished you could relive these small, much simpler times with both of your friends.

But you know you might never get that chance again.

[tonguetiedraven]

I love your Kyoto stuff! (MarbleWolf too!) and was wondering if you could do something with them all teasing Ryuuji about his crush and him panicking about Rin finding out? Get together?

Thank you so much! @marble-wolf and I took this in a slightly different direction, but we hope you like it! We've got a teaser below with a link to the full fic under it.

-- -- -- -- --

The difference of stepping off the bus and onto the road that would lead them to the ryokan, the temple, and the Deep Keep, was immediate to Ryuuji, though he wasn’t sure anyone else would notice. Konekomaru almost certainly, Renzou maybe, but he doubted his other classmates would notice the absence of it. 

The air was clear. Crisp and cold, but fresh. Ryuuji took a deep breath of it, beaming as he did (probably still looking a bit grouchy because he could never quite seem to not look that way) and set a quick pace towards his home that Renzou calling out a frustrated sounding “Bon!”

He slowed back down which proved to be a terrible idea because it put him right next to Rin. Shoulder to shoulder almost. 

The last time Ryuuji was here, that would have been a terrible thing because they hadn’t been talking at all and he was frustrated and confused and worried. But now, now he wasn’t worried and stressed about the temple he loved and wanted to restore imploding more with every second before he could possibly restore it, and he understood Rin now, and—

And more than understood Rin and that was absolutely the problem now as he peeked over at the scarf and hat clad boy who was pink cheeked with a red nose and pink ears and looking adorably cold despite the fact he had flames whenever he wanted. 

Ryuuji’s eyes shot forward again and he was grateful the chill could hide the way his own cheeks went a bit pink as the chuchi Rin always just summoned in Ryuuji once again surged to life in his stomach. 

“Just ahead,” he said gruffly, and a bit stupidly. Rin had been here. He knew where the ryokan was. It was visible and there were a few of the Myōō Dharani hanging in front of it. 

Rin gave the happiest sort of bounce to find Ryuuji next to him now. He was happy to be away from True Cross for a little while and it was even better to get to spend the rest of break with his friends — especially Ryuuji. 

The young monk had been catching Rin's eye more and more recently. (Actually it wasn't recently, but it had just intensified after the Impure King and the trip into Kyoto and then the undercut … he wanted to run his fingers through it.) 

But he couldn't do anything about it because he was certain to be turned down and he was just happy to have friends. 

He had enjoyed the final days in Kyoto and he hoped they'd have an even better time now without the Impure King stressing Ryuuji out so much. 

"Yeah!" He said to Ryuuji, his tail brushing his friend's hand before lifting higher to wag happily in greeting to the Myōō Dharani monks. "I'm excited to be back!"  

Ryuuji returned Rin’s smile with  his own growing and let his eyes linger for a second before looking forward to the monks gathered at the front. Kinzou, Yumi (he could feel Konekomaru bracing himself for a flying hug), Shishamo, Mika, Chika, Ao, and Uta were all up front and half of them were waving like they weren’t all the only ones on the street and like they weren’t easy to spot. 

They were all dorks, but they were his dorks. 

“Hey!” Kinzou bellowed, waving all the hard. “Bon! And Rin!” 

The way he said it made Ryuuji immediately miss a step, and his face heated in a hot blush that was mostly hidden by his hat and scarf.

What the hell was that tone about?”

“Koneko!” Yumi squealed and launched herself across the distance with a flurry of movement that had Konekomaru grunting as he was rocked back into an extremely indignant Izumo.

Ryuuji used that distraction to put the smallest amount of space between himself and Rin. 

“Bon!” Ao and Mika called out in unison and then leaned into whisper something that had them both giggling and Uta whacking their arm with a shake of her own head. 

Chika and Shishamo hurried across the space to help grab their luggage (and ogle Shura and her not at all to regulations Exorcist coat.) 

“Aren’t you all cozy,” KInzou hummed, snagging Renzou and pulling him into a head lock as he kept smiling between Ryuuji and Rin. 

Rin's hand moved up to where he was practically hiding in his scarf and Kuro who's little head was poking out of his bag. 

"Yeah?" Rin agreed simply because at least Kuro looked perfectly cozy in the bag. 

He felt like everyone was staring at him and he had sorta hoped everybody would have not been still hung up on the Son of Satan thing or the saving them from the Impure King. He smiled anyway and waved at the gathering crowd.  

“Your parents are inside,” Uta offered, giving Bon a teasing smile as half the gazes went between him and Rin. Renzou was trying (and failing) to escape Kinzou’s clutches and Konekomaru was entirely wrapped up by Yumi who was asking Izumo questions about her hair clips. 

Shiemi was hanging at the back with Yukio, both of them staring a bit too wide eyed, and Ryuuji could see Kinzou opening his mouth again, so he freed his duffle bag from Shishamo’s hand and jogged up to the engawa to get away as it felt like his face was much too red.

He had to be imagining that. They couldn’t know. It was just that he was standing next to Rin. No one could know about his crush. He’d barely even admitted its existence to himself.

He slid the door open, slipping his shoes off as he stepped inside and smiled (only a bit flustered) at his mother and father and more of the Myōō Dharani, all bustling around busily for the upcoming wedding. 

Rin hurried to follow Ryuuji, eager to get inside and hopefully away from all the too wide grins. (And before he could get knocked over by the flailing Shima brothers.) 

He tripped his way out of his shoes and caught himself on a grumpy looking Yukio who'd followed him inside and he brightened up at the sight of Ryuuji's parents. 

"Hi!" He called.  

Ryuuji shifted to give him more space, catching sight of his father slipping past Juuzou and a few Deep Keep exorcists he didn’t know the name of. He made a beeline for him, not wanting to get lectured over his hair and the new spiral by his mom. She was going to be furious when she saw the bigger gauges and he didn’t think she’d approve of the undercut.

(It wasn’t because it looked like that was where Rin was going and his cheeks were still hot about the way Kinzou had said Rin and the fact that he had tried to walk close to Rin.) 

“Ryuuji!” Tatsuma greeted, immediately moving in for a hug and hauling Ryuuji into it before he could resist. (He wouldn’t have, he just blushed at the noise he heard Izumo make.) 

“Hey, dad.” 

“Bon!” Juuzou cheered, coming over with a mildly frantic smile. He had a wedding in two days, it made sense. 

“Ah, Rin,” Tatsuma added as he released Ryuuji and he reached for Rin’s hand, using it to pull Rin closer so he could set his other hand on Rin’s arm and give him an affectionate squeeze. “I see you two have still made up.”

“We didn’t— it wasn’t a fight.” Ryuuji was blushing again and grateful he hadn’t taken the scarf off yet.

Rin laughed softly, relaxing into the kind, fatherly touch that he missed so much it hurt. He gave a smile because he didn't know… 

"The Impure King stuff? That wasn't… was that a fight?" Rin directed the last question to Ryuuji, looking at him with wide eyes. 

Torako pulled Ryuuji away from Tatsuma to give him a hug that looked far too tight but entirely loving as she ran a hand over his hair. 

"I approve of this hair much more. You look wonderful." She said with a wide smile.  

Ryuuji blushed, torn between who he should talk to, but he gave his mom a warm smile and returned the hug. (Better than a lecture.) 

“Thanks, ma.” 

“Was it not?” Tatsuma asked, smiling mischievously. “My mistake. It’s still nice to see you two getting along.”

“We—” Ryuuji’s attention was immediately returned to them as his blush darkened again “—it wasn’t—”

“Of course not,” Tatsuma said congenially and moved on to greet Konekomaru with a final squeeze of Rin’s arm, leaving Ryuuji there with his mom messing up his hair and a blush.

Torako looked suddenly apologetic, almost exaggeratedly so, as she sighed and ran her thumb over Ryuuji's cheek. (He was getting so scruffy . He wasn't a baby anymore.)

"I hope you two don't mind, but we are having Ryuuji share his room with you, Rin sweetie. The wedding has us booked out! We have Yukio with Konekomaru and Renzou gets to go home." She said in a soft voice. 

Rin's heart leapt and he was blushing before he could stop it as his eyes immediately went to Ryuuji as Torako held a hand out to him.  

Ryuuji was certain he had to have misheard that for a moment. The plan had been for him to share with Koenkomaru and the twins to take one of their rooms and them to take the other.

But apparently that had been switched and now he was blushing. (He hadn’t actually stopped.

“I—what?”

“Yes,” Konekomaru agreed from behind him. “That was the plan?” Yukio nodded his own agreement and passed by to congratulate Juuzou.

It sure as hell hadn’t been. Ryuuji would have remembered that plan. 

“We—” Ryuuji cut himself off and swallowed at how high his voice had sounded. “Is that okay, Okumura?” 

Rin blinked dumbly for a long moment before brightening. "Yeah! I don't mind." 

Someone coughed in the crowd and Torako beamed. 

"Wonderful! You kids go get unpacked and we can get to work." She said, practically herding them out.  

Tatsuma shot her and Konekomaru a wink as Kinzou grinned mischievously and Renzou still struggled to get free. 

Ryuuji walked towards his room, wide-eyed and only internally panicking a bit. 

“Right in here,” he offered (croaked.) He slid the door to his room open and motioned inside, eyeing it for anything weird and embarrassing and blushing darker at a few of the posters he had up. 

His futon was rolled up in the corner, and sure enough, there was a second beside it. He’d need to move his prayer mat for Rin, and it still wouldn’t be a lot of space. He didn’t have a particularly large room. 

He stepped further into it, striving to keep walking normally (because it felt like he wasn’t at all) and stopped by the dresser, setting his bag next to it and daring to pull off his hat and scarf and set them on top of it. 

“Just, uh, make yourself at home.”

Rin went inside, eyes wide and drinking in the room and how rich in Ryuuji's personality it was. There were collections of prayer beads and such a Ryuuji mix of Buddhist flair and punk (that made Rin's knees weak.) 

He slipped inside and set his bag close to the door to keep it out of the way. Kuro meowed and hopped out of the bag to probably look for someone to feed him. 

"Cool! It suits you!" Rin praised, giving Ryuuji a wide grin. He sat down on the floor and took off his scarf and jacket, already a bit too warm and it was guaranteed to get worse with the room smelling like Ryuuji and him being right there .  

Ryuuji’s eyes shot to Rin and stayed a moment longer than they should, and felt his cheeks darken all the more.

“Thanks,” he mumbled, and wondered if that was the right answer. It sounded a bit lame as he tugged off his own jacket and set it on the dresser too. 

“I get up early,” he added, absolutely not thinking about the fact that Rin would be sleeping right next to him. This was some kind of devilish temptation. (Fitting that it was Rin, but Ryuuji couldn’t imagine what he’d done to earn that sort of karma.)

“But I won’t wake you up.” He grinned and tried to make it look normal. “Don’t worry. I’ll let ya sleep in past six.” 

"Oka— wait! Don't wake me up at six-thirty!" Rin said because that seemed like a smart ass thing Ryuuji would do. 

(And he would give Rin that teasing, smug look that had made Rin want to hit him before but now he just loved it. ) 

"I stay up late!" Rin offered in exchange. He had trouble going to sleep on a normal day… it might be impossible with Ryuuji sleeping so close.  

“I sleep like the dead, so that’s not gonna be a problem. And understood, it’ll be six-fourty five then.” He gave Rin a wink and looked away before Rin could see the blush. 

“Do—”

There was a polite knock at the door that had Ryuuji looking over in confusion. It slid open before he could say anything and Mika leaned in with a broad smile on her lips and a bit of black hair in her eyes.

“You two are on mochi duty with me, the Hojos, and Shigemichi,” she informed them.

“We’re what?”

“You’re going to be making mochi. For dinner. We’re going to be making a lot. You know how the Shimas eat.” 

She gave Rin a grin before looking back at Ryuuji with mischief in her eyes. “You said Rin was a good—no, fantastic cook, didn’t you, Bon?”

Ryuuji no longer had a scarf to hide his blush.

[gatheredfates]

05. undone | azuma yumishi

Do you want to read all of my FFXIVWrite prompts? You can do that here!

BARBAROUS. primitive and uncivilized. extremely brutal. DISCLAIMER: Azuma takes direct inspiration from Japanese/Chinese culture, with respect to Doma/The East and her general themes. I am neither Japanese nor Chinese. While I always endeavor to write to her as respectfully as possible, there are times where I will mess up. If I have written anything from a place of ignorance, especially if it's egregious, please don’t hesitate to correct me. I’d rather suffer momentary embarrassment to ensure I don’t repeat my mistakes.

Assimilation was the desire of the tyrants who dubbed them savages, an irony cloistered in steel as they stripped identity from the outer provinces and churned them through their war machine. ‘Doman’ had been synonymous with ‘savage’ for as long as Azuma could remember; spat from barbarous tongue; heralded in fire, wire, stone and steel; twisted and defaced in the lesson that safety was second only to allegiance, and they were loathe to defy the second if they craved the first.

A tokonoma was no temple, though they were too ignorant to suspect the smaller sibling. As was their way, they had gone for the tera first; expelling the monks from her walls, tearing down her foundations and salting the earth. As the bones of the elders fermented in the earth they laughed at the miko distraught at the carnage, goading them as they grabbed their limbs like the jaws of snapping dogs.

“You wouldn’t know civilization if it looked you dead in the face. Try to call upon your kami now — prove to us your primal nature.”

Her first kill had come that way, a blade in the belly of a soldier who thought her easy prey. It was not clean, but it would suffice. The blood in her obi was the smallest price. The obi, the tokonoma; the ever-constant chant of lesser. Let them take their larger prizes. Many a serpent had still killed a man when freshly hatched from the egg.

As she lit the incense and gave her offerings, Azuma clapped her hands gently together. Even in this place she could feel her ancestors and feel the soft beating heart of her home.

We have always been here and will continue to endure when they are undone, undone, undone.

[heavy-draw]

"It is a shame we have been placed on opposing teams," Azama starts out of nowhere. He smiles, as he always does. Blithe, but rarely guileless. "You had always looked, to me, an interesting sort."

'Interesting' in the sense that she reminded him so if a prickly comrade or two, if from a distance - distant as those confounded ninja, stern as his Lady Hinoka, and, if he was right, with the capacity to be as scary as a certain woman with a penchant for fashion and violence both.

'Interesting' in the way that they had all been, yes,

in that they had been delightful to tease, one and all.

"I am Azama, but a humble monk from abroad taken up in the church’s employ as an instructor, for a time." He offers a bow, and still, all the while, that same smile.

"When we both inevitably find ourselves in the losers' tent, might you indulge me in a game of cards?"

The presence of an unfamiliar voice causes her to tense slightly, the adjustment nearly imperceptible to those around her. Shamir had been well aware of a stranger's approach-- as both a hunter and a mercenary, it was second nature to be hyperaware of her surroundings, and as a result, it was quite the tough challenge to successfully sneak up on her. "Interesting? Can't say I've heard that one before," The archer speaks in a dry tone, wary of the man's intentions. Her piercing gaze settles on his smile, her lips thinning into a line before she opts for being polite; a brief nod is offered as a means of greeting, never one for the theatrics of etiquette. "Shamir. I'm with the Knights of Seiros," For now, she fails to say. Though... his balls to insinuate that she'd lose did cause the smallest hint of a smile to tug at the corners of her lips. Shamir always did enjoy the ones that had a bite to back up their bark. "Hah! You've got nerve. Alright, then. I'll take you up on that card game- it might not be as soon as you seem to believe, though." Her comment is made in slight jest, the steely tone of voice remaining-- though not quite as curt and cold as before.

@carefreemonk

[rosetyler42]

For the Drac Pack:

1. Probably Ericka. She's not nessecarily even trying, she's just a naturally friendly charmer and femme fatale. Not to mention Pan. Murray and Gryffin are probably second, although Drac's pretty good with rizz when he's NOT interested.

2. Probably Drac. He's the only one we know who cooks.

3. Probably Eunice. Mavis also has some knowledge of clothes being the human nerd and canonically having made her cape.

4. Probably Johnny, considering his quoting of Kung Fu Shaolin Monk Master, with Mavis and her human fangirling second.

5. Johnny and Mavis again. Johnny with Pizza and Mavis with candy. Frank gets an honorable mention for his large appetite.

6. Frankenstein is the tallest person. Tinkles is technically bigger than almost any of the pack.

7. Dennis. He's around 2' 4". He's smol. There's probably also Wolf pups smaller than him, and of course the Twins when they're little, but of the known ones, he's the smallest ones.

8. Ericka, probably. We all know how enthusiastic she is and how she loves to plan parties. Drac'd be second. We've seen how big a deal he makes out of Mavis' birthdays.

9. Frank, Wayne, Gryffin, Murray, Johnny, and Drac can all play an instrument and sing. Mavis, Ericka, Wanda, Dennis, and Winnie can also sing. Drac rarely sings in public since Martha died, though. But family get-togethers might be an exception. Van Helsing can clearly play a keyboard at least. Bonus: Simon can also sing and play the ukulele like his father, while Lucy can sing.

10. Probably Mavis. XD She'd be the one who actually finds out what Halloween really is and would fall in love with it. Ericka and Lucy would ALSO get really into Halloween too.

11. Probably Ericka. Not only is she the Christian and the richest of the main two humans, she's the most enthusiastic about joining this family and wants to show she cares. She gives no flying flips about Valentines day being a traditionally romance only event. The gifts may not nessecarily be stuff she bought, either. I could definitely see her being a penguin pebbler.

12. Ericka, Johnny, or Lucy kinda strike me as the type. Maybe Mavis or Griffin.

13. Wanda. She's definitely the most maternal one of the group and the one most likely to act as a mother figure for both Ericka and Mavis as well as her own Cubs. Ericka herself kind of also falls under this, being technically the matriarch and 2nd in command of the pack and clearly the most practical and level-headed one in a crisis. Not to mention one of the most intimidating and protective. She even naturally fits into this role by the time of Transformania ("Do NOT make me come back there! I will TURN this blimp around!") HOWEVER, due to her still having a feral gremlin side and Van Helsing stubborness, I don't consider her to be a traditional "The one with a braincell" mom friend. It's more of a "Somebody needs to be in charge, and right now, that's me." Or "When did a gremlin like me become the most reasonable one here, again?" Situation.

14. Vlad kinda has a more laid back and humorous if rough around the edges side to him than his son Drac, and acts as the father figure for Ericka. Drac CAN be a fun parent, but he's often a bit uptight and busy looking after everyone.

15. Dennis, later replaced by Simon and Lucy. Wolf Pups also go here, as Wanda and Wayne are near CONSTANTLY having more kids. All of them are pretty happy with their baby status.

16. Probably Ericka or Mavis. Ericka's good at sneaking around, while Mavis was shown to be pretty good against her legendary father at hide and seek. Though Dennis and Winnie do have an advantage in their size. Lucy would be another contender: mixing her mother's stealth and vampire abilities.

17. Dracula, Vlad, and Van Helsing of course!

Family Groups

OTPs are great and all, but can we take a moment to appreciate those family groups that form between characters? More often than not, few of them are actually related by blood, if any of them are, but they’re definitely family, if a little dysfunctional. 

Have a few questions for the squad:

Which one flirts the most? (Not necessarily with anyone in the group.)

Which one is the best cook?

Which one is the Appointed Fashion Consultant?

Which one is the biggest nerd?

Which one eats the most junk food?

Who is the tallest?

Who is the shortest?

Which one goes all-out for every holiday, and drags all of the others into it?

Who sings and/or plays an instrument at the get-togethers?

Which one convinces the others to dress up for Halloween?

Who buys Valentine presents for EVERYONE in the fam?

Who starts snowball fights?

Who is the Designated Mom Friend? 

Who is the Fun Dad Friend?

Who is the “baby” of the group? Do they embrace their status, or complain about it?

If everyone played Hide and Seek, who would win?

Who is the Designated Grump who secretly loves everyone?

[theweirdhybrid]

THANK YOU!!! Finally someone said it. I do try and respect Tripitaka but honestly it's mostly out of respect for Chinese culture. The other part of me wants to shake him like a ragdoll and yell a bit BECAUSE YOU TORTURED YOUR FRIEND REPEATEDLY AND MOST OF THE TIME IT WAS FOR NO GOOD REASON????

Like I understand a lil at the start since from The monk's perspective he just met a 'scary demon' that's all over the place and he didn't know Monkey King but like hhhhhhh later on when they actually know and care about each other it makes me really mad

Yes!! Yes, this is exactly why I’m uncomfortable with Tripitaka! I do have an immense amount of respect for him and the Journey To The West novel, but I also have to put some boundaries regarding my own morals. JTTW is essentially one big “Join my religion because it’s the superior religion” book and it shows in quite a few parts, but it also acknowledges the fact not everyone wants to join that religion and that the other religions are just as real as the one they want you to join (but they do it in a backhanded sorta way). A few things in the book that made me uncomfortable was actions such as physically punishing someone for a mistake with “a few hundred lashes” and it being called ‘merciful’. Tripitaka ceasing the torture on Monkey the first time is described as a merciful and or compassionate action, even though he let it happen for several minutes. Buddha deciding that while Monkey was trapped under the mountain he’d be fed iron pellets and molten copper was described as an act of mercy. These kinds of descriptions made me uncomfortable, because I could never imagine physical abuse as an acceptable way to discipline anyone in even the most extreme circumstances. I get it was really the only way to keep Monkey under control, but the fact Tripitaka punishes him first and then starts demanding answers is just 😬 and there was like, no apology for the torture, ever. (I also admit I could be remembering things wrong, but in my defense I am very tired rn and JTTW is such a long novel that tiny details like that are easily missable and or forgettable)

But, despite this, I still respect and admire JTTW. The characterization is some of the best I’ve ever seen, and the growth of Monkey is incredibly inspiring. JTTW is an important part of Chinese culture, and I have a great deal if respect for it because of that, but I know for a fact a good portion of the people who read it were made uncomfortable by how easily Tripitaka put Monkey through what was essentially a simulation of feeling his head explode over the smallest things. The entire encounter with the White Bone Demon comes to mind, where Monkey was in the right and would’ve been believed had Pigsy not opened his big mouth. That part, particularly, makes me upset because of my own history of being wrongly punished because someone else was believed over me. It also irks me how Monkey actually came back to Tripitaka willingly (on multiple occasions) and still got punished for it. Like, that’s not helping, that’s just traumatizing him!! If he’s getting punished for doing the right thing how the hell does anyone expect him to not be traumatized by that??? Like. Bruh. Seriously. How about instead of immediately punishing him once Monkey comes back of his own free will, you thank him and give him a pat on the head or something instead of making him experience his head exploding and imploding at the same time??? No wonder Monkey was grumpy a good part of the Journey, I’d be grumpy too man.

(Also, note, a good portion of JTTW wouldn’t have happened if someone had just taken the time to sit Monkey down and tell him the rules that even the Jade Emperor and Buddha himself have to follow. Like honestly, I get the fact they’re terrified of him, but did no one think to tell him he can’t eat the peaches from the trees because they’re harvested specifically for a really important banquet? Or at least tell him not to eat all of them and leave enough for the banquet? And if they’d invited him to it in the first place he wouldn’t have trashed it, hell he might’ve even decided he didn’t want to go. But alas, the gods resort to violence every single time. No communication ever gets done. But that’s just my own opinion on it, I still enjoyed the book regardless.)

[milf-harrington]

Reki hadn't been on the patrol with Suki that had captured the three newcomers, but he had been there to see the smallest of them launch himself several feet into the air before announcing that he was the avatar. Apparently there had been an accompanying trick involving marbles but Reki had dropped his fan so he missed it.

And now he was apparently in charge of keeping them occupied while Suki found them somewhere to stay.

"I'm Katara." The water tribe girl brushed the tips of her fingers along the bottom of her pendant as she spoke, big blue eyes warm with a gentle sort of kindness Reki wasn't used to seeing, before gesturing to the taller boy beside her. "And this is my brother Sokka."

The mildly distrustful and hardened look on Sokka's face was more expected, and despite his feigned disinterest in the conversation Reki could see the way he took in their surroundings with a calculating glint to his eyes.

Reki wondered what the village looked like to him, if he was unfamiliar with the sight of trees and grass, the warmth in the air despite being so far south. He wondered if the twitch in Sokka's eyebrow was because he'd noticed the sparkle of frost still clinging to the leaves of a bush after Langa had been entertaining the children earlier that morning, or if it had something to do with the tension in his shoulders, like he was physically holding himself back from something.

"And I'm Aang!" A bright voice piped up, bringing Reki's attention to the big grey eyes and childish grin of the kid who'd wowed the village after claiming to be Kyoshi in a past life. He clearly wasn't much older than Miya, dressed in the yellow and orange robes of the airbending monks, bright blue tattoos a permanent reminder that the kid was a master in his field.

Ah, the identity thief. Reki nodded, remembering the years they'd spent joking about Miya being the Avatar, despite knowing he wasn't. And then, when the rumour about the real Avatar being back had gotten around, Reki had followed Miya around all day, poking and prodding him about how he felt having his identity stolen.

It took exactly 2 seconds to register the confused and mildly hostile expressions on their faces before realising that he had said the identity thief comment out loud.

Spirits.

"Uh," He laughed nervously, tugging on his fingers and quickly scanning the street for a diversion, feeling relief wash through him when he caught sight of Langa sitting on the steps to his house, scribbling something down on a roll of parchment. Hopefully working on his handwriting, but probably not.

"Oh! Let me introduce you to someone!" He smiled wide, trying to move past the whole 'identity theft' joke as quick as possible. Though he boasted about his talents any chance he got, Miya was a private person around strangers, so it was probably best not to blurt out that he could bend air when there hadn't been a known airbender since the beginning of the war.

Langa was apprehensive but polite, welcoming them to the island before kissing Reki's cheek and promising to meet him at Cherry and Joe's later.

There was something in Sokka's expression when Reki turned back to face them that made him pause, before digging into the history of the island as he lead them further down the street, keeping his eyes peeled for any more of his friends.

The look hadn't been bad, exactly- there had been a questioning sort of hopefulness to it, something Reki remembered feeling the first time he saw Cherry and Joe actually kiss. The realisation that it was possible to love another guy, and wondering if it was something he wanted.

When Miya jogged out of Shadow's flower shop, he took one look at Reki and dropped his skateboard on the ground to make a quick getaway, but Reki was wrapping his arms around the kids waist before he could make it very far, board rolling a few feet when Miya kicked his legs in outrage.

Sokka turned out to be pretty interested in Miya's board, immediately asking what it was and how it worked and where it came from. Reki was more than happy to answer his questions, explaining how Cherry had built one when he was a little kid and spent a few years perfecting it before he started building them for other people.

"A lot of us grew up learning how to ride them." He explained, scratching absently at his glove and blinking three times, before stretching out his hand when he realised he'd been clenching it for awhile. "It's easy once you get the hang of it- Langa pretty much perfected it after a few weeks, but Langa's kind of a freak of nature."

Katara and Aang took over the questioning when they moved past the mechanics of it and into the fun stuff, like tricks and speed, all sparkly eyes and big grins when he told them about one of the cooler beefs between Langa and Miya.

When he caught sight of the old cherry blossom tree, twisting up over a familiar house with ribbons of incense smoke snaking through the air from where they'd been lit and placed on the window, he brightened and bounced on his toes.

"And these are my unofficial dads!" He introduced brightly, finding said unofficial dads in the middle of a bickering match in their front yard.

The ground rumbled beneath them right as the sound of sloshing water reached his ears and he watched in amusement as the ground tripped Cherry so he fell backwards at the same time that Joe was drenched in water from a bucket sitting by the porch. Katara's quiet exclamation of Cherry's waterbending was lost under Aangs concern.

"Are they okay?"

He seemed genuinely worried, eyebrows drawn together and fingers twitching like he wanted to do something to help them.

"Yeah, they're always like this. They love each other really, but for whatever reason this is how they choose to express it." He turned back to the kids, with a smile, suddenly itching to get his makeup off his face.

"C'mon, I'll introduce you properly! Joe'll probably want to feed you and if Cherry offers you tea you should definitely accept, he makes the best tea."

[avenger-hawk]

Hello hawk. Do you get inspiration for your writing from books (actual "books", not fanfiction lol)? If so, what authors do you like? Hugs~

Hello. Tbh I’m kinda picky with books, not as much as with fanfiction lol but still I can’t enjoy some popular books ppl love. I don’t like long sagas for example, I get bored with fantasy in general and I dislike very wordy books with looong descriptions of the smallest details of the characters’ clothes and food. I couldn’t read the A Song Of Ice And Fire books because of this.

I do like a wordy writer like Charles Dickens though. Not all his books cause some are really too victorian bordering on annoying, but I really liked A Tale of Two Cities and Our Mutual Friend. I read a lot of classics tbh especially as a teenager, as I discovered fandoms and fanfics later. I liked Jane Austen, she has a brilliant style, very ironic and not cheesy despite the sentimental theme. I also liked old gothic novels, they have some dark imagery, like Maturin’s Melmoth The Wanderer, Byron’s Manfred, M.G. Lewis’ The Monk. It was my final essay in school, even. All these novels would be ‘wrong’ by fandom bullshit moralism btw.

But that was my teenage literature phase, I think fondly of those books because of nostalgia, mostly, because I changed my taste for less plot oriented and more philosophical, abstract, surreal books. I also like short stories or short novels more than long stuff. The surreal and the fantastic work better with short stories imo.

A writer I liked as a teenager and like even now though is H. Hesse. He created a beautiful atmosphere in his books, like, you can literally feel the sun and trees and birds chirping, an at the same time they’re angsty. Especially Narcissus and Goldmund; I reread it recently and it’s even better than I remembered, it also had a strong gay vibe which doesn’t hurt lol. Or Demian, male friendship, kinda gay, very philosophical, and The Glass Bead Game and his short stories too. Also he was vegetarian, it’s a plus for me.

My favourite writer is J. L. Borges, I love how he creates fictional reviews of nonexistent books that he mixes with existent philosophers and writers, so when you read his short stories you are juggling between reality and fiction, reading fake academic works or you’re sinking in a story with a thin but amazing plot line where dream and reality are fused together, and reality is completely subjective. His concept of time is not linear, he’s from Argentina and he describes this amazing mix of cultures and influences, everything he writes is a masterpiece that you can feel it, elevates your mind. Genius. Especially The Lottery in Babylon (for me it’s also a metaphor of reincarnation) Tlön, Uqbar, Orbis Tertius , The Garden of Forking Paths (amazing, simply amazing) Funes the Memorious (this story and its theme is still haunting me tbh) and The Circular Ruins, I have no words to describe how much I love it.

I also love two Italian writers very much. I. Calvino, surreal, abstract, amazing. I highly recommend him to everyone cause he has been translated a lot in English speaking countries, like Invisible Cities,  The Castle of Crossed Destinies (tarot lovers would like this one),  If on a winter's night a traveler (all book lovers should read it).

D. Buzzati is amazing too, his short stories might be set in urban Italy but also in a nonspecified ancient Central Asia-ish spaces, with its vastity and mysterious (for us) culture, from Samarkand to the steppes. His writing is laconic, essential, but shows you everything you need to see and feel. His novel The Tartar Steppe is poetic and metaphoric, his short stories often deal with the mystery of death, in the same poetic metaphoric way. Unfortunately I didn’t find anything in English online, but I really recommend The Seven Messengers, it was the first story I read from him and still a favourite. 

I also like M. Bulgakov very much, like Master and Margarita is such a cool book and so is Heart of a Dog. So much sarcasm, I love them.

I was too long maybe, recommending books. You asked if these books I love influenced my writing, I wish they did lol. As I write dark themes but I stopped reading that darkish stuff I can’t say they influenced me much. Anyway my writing style is quite essential and to the point, not only because English is not my mothertongue but also because of the writers I like.

I was slightly inspired by Borges’ The Circular Ruins for In Dreams, not directly but for certain themes related to subjective reality, and I quoted The Garden of the Forking Paths for Itachi’s pre-massacre state of mind in Victims of Peace.

I was slightly inspired by Hesse’s Narcissus and Goldmund for the setting (Northern European late Middle Ages) of a non-Naruto darkfic I wrote.

I think there might be more but I’m probably not aware of it.

[paladin-of-nerd-fandom65]

Titanic Mothers (Mother’s Day 2021 Drabbles)

 Dedicated to all Mothers in the world, whether by birth, adoption or otherwise. Take the time to wish the woman who helped you become the person you are a very blessed Mother’s Day.

Of course I cannot have done this without thanking my pen pals @lightdusk96 @mothnem @wisegirlandseaweedbrainforever @fireflyxrebel-writes @tarisilmarwen @bluerene and many others 

So without further ado....

Arella Roth

 The peaceful, serene and calming orange tinted skies of Azarath are in many ways are therapeutic sort to admire under. For Arella, they are a perfect sort of skies to step outside for a nice and simple meditation. The Monks’ efforts in freeing her mind and grief in light of the numerous....series of events surrounding her entire life, whether being her harsh childhood and especially her unfortunate encounter with that bastard of a devil known as Trigon the Terrible, all of it had truly done some wonders in giving her a chance to appreciate life though clearly that grief runs deep, requiring an additional amount of effort on her end to counter it. 

 As Arella assumes lotus position on the balcony and lights two candles to her sides, she closes her eyes. She begins steadying her breathing and clears her mind...no easy feat though sine almost about a few seconds into clearing it, the scepter of Trigon and her tyrant of mother start coming in. The harsh words of shame, the demonic laughter, those taunts, the curses, they all start piling onto her mind, no her soul all at once. Her breathing starts picking up speed. She must remember what the Monks taught her....peace...find her inner peace...find what makes her find said peace...then within the blackened and harsh void of darkness clouding her mind...Arella sees it. That peace, a tiny stream of white light...a small bird. The bird starts getting closer, it’s wings start opening, dispelling the black void surrounding her...

  As her mind starts feeling the calming light clear it out, Arella peeks open her right eye very slightly, sure enough there she was. Her light, her inner peace, her white bird, her very daughter. 

 Little Rachel Roth, barely eight years of age as of now, was also in lotus position, practicing the very same meditation her mother was doing right now. She too looked at her meditating partner to her side and sure enough, both realize...’why stop now’ and both wordlessly give each other a small smile, a nod and both continue mediating. 

Arella, upon closing her eye back, says, “Okay, Rachel, now repeat after me...”

“Yes, Mom”

“Azarath, Metrion, Zinthos....”

Marie Logan

  “Garfield” Maire called out for maybe the fifth time, passing by the tall tree next their camper yet again.

  Her six year old little explorer of a boy had a tendency to run off whenever he was bored. Thankfully, he’d never venture into the nearby jungles or savannas the Logans visit too far, he always keep relatively close to make sure he knows his way back safely. Still, as a mother, Marie has her fair share of concerns for his well being since who knows what kind of animals he can run into this time. 

  However, the fifth time calling for him appears being the charm as sure enough, she can hear the branches creaking and the leaves rustling above her. Looking upward, sure enough, there he was, climbing down the gigantic branches with such agility before finally landing safely right next to her. His blond hair and crisp green eyes shone brightly as Garfield beams to his equally smiling mother. 

 “Found anything up there my explorer?” Marie asked while picking her son into her arms.

 “Nah”, Garfield replied, “plenty of birds like the manual said would ‘round here but they flew away”

 “Well, must be cause they didn’t want to hear about Wicked Scary just yet”, Marie says lightly giggling while ruffling her son’s hair, “maybe they just didn’t wanna get it spoiled you know?”

 Garfield sheepishly rubbed the back of his head, “Yeah, guess so.”

Dr. Elinore Stone

  Fixing her goggles, Dr. Stone narrowed her eyes within them ever so slightly. Next to her, ten year old Victor was equally wearing goggles but also adorably having oven mittens on his hands while holding on tightly to the beaker of green fluid over the larger one with orange fluid. 

 It was ‘Take Your Kids to Work Day’ at STAR Labs and both Elinore and her husband Silas had taken their son over to both explore where his parents’ worked at and even take part in a family friendly activity like this one. 

  Lightly guiding her gloved hands over Vic’s, the two together start pouring the green fluid from the beaker the latter was carrying very slowly into the one with the orange substance. The chemical reaction from the larger beaker was almost immediate since it started changing into a multitude of bright colors and bubbling. 

 “Alright son”, Elinore exclaimed proudly as her son beamed to her happily, “I think you’d just be quite the perfect chemi...” 

  KA-BOOM! 

  The lab immediately filled with a light with still irradiating cloud of smoke so rapidly that Silas immediately opened the windows to let the air clear. 

 As the smoke cleared out safely, both Elinore and Victor were thankfully completely fine aside the black soot covering their faces, their hair standing up embarrassingly, all the while Vic still holding onto that plastic beaker in his hands, muttering with a chuckle, “or not.” 

Empress Luand’r of Planet Tamaran 

  The royal gardens within the palace walls have always been a true sanctuary in many ways. In contrast to the barren and strip-mined prefectures right outside said palace walls, ravaged by years of constant fighting and war, the gardens housed a peaceful and tranquil environment that not provides the many fauna a suitable home, but also anyone who ventures within a calming place to contemplate and even find joy in spite of such harsh times befalling the planet.

 That’s very much the case for the very Empress of the Tamaraneans as she cannot help but find her smiling at not just the beautiful varying colors, pleasant aromas and lively calmness of the garden the bench she sits upon at this moment but also of the other resident currently enjoying herself alongside her. 

 Hearing a small voice giggle above her head, Luand’r beams proudly at the sight she sees: her seven planetary cycles of age old little Princess Koriand’r was floating in the air joyously and with such excitement, flying around the numerous branches and leaves of the fauna surrounding her, only stopping every now and then to have her brilliant green eyes observe closely of the leaves she floats right next to. 

 It was moments of pure innocence like this that always bring the purest joy within the usually lowkey Luand’r since through her, her husband Myand’r and especially their beloved ally and servant Galfore, Koriand’r and her siblings are actually given even int he smallest of doses a life outside of the constant bombardment and sirens their enemies bring on a consistent basis. If only there were some way, some means of escaping this perpetual worry and state of fear this war for their kind’s very sovereignty. If one such means exists, Luand’r here will ensure she and her people, especially her children, can take it. 

  A hug snaps the Empress out of her thoughts. Looking to her side, she sees Koriand’r wrapping her arms around her. No other options are needed since all the black-haired Tamaranean woman does is simply yet all too lovingly hug her red-haired daughter back.

   And so, Empress and Princess sit peacefully underneath the blossoming flowers and leaves of the royal garden, a truly fond way of doing the ‘spending quality time’ as a certain other species called Earthlings call it.

  Mary Elizabeth Lloyd Grayson 

 Gripping the bar tightly, Mary pulls it back while bending her legs starting with tipping her toes over the edge of the platform. Now int position, she looks down from her post and  can clearly see the nets are firmly in place and secured well enough. In the very few instances they engage in practice sessions without the nets, as per their acts, it would be just John and her doing such since by now, years of practice and experience worldwide have taught them a thing or few about making sure not a single fall happens on their watch, lest it cause certain disaster. 

  However, this it wasn’t John that was up here with her for today but, looking to her side and giving him a proud thumbs up, instead was her eight year old son who also gives her a thumbs up. Just two months ago was his birthday on the first day of spring and since then, no ever since he first took to the trapeze ropes when he was four, Mary watched her Little Robin improve and grow with each session, each show and every single time he stands on that platform, taking a leap of faith with his hands on the bars, letting loose to perform a spin or flip in the air before once more stretching his arms to safety of both John and/or her. Today proves not too different, hopefully. Worst case for this, Dick or her fall to nets below instead of the hard sandy floor. 

  Leaping off the platform with bar in hand, Mary flew the calm free-of-audience noise air with perfect easy, before hearing that trademark crack of the ropes, signal her to let it loose and with a flip in the air transferred successfully to the second bar across from where her son and the platform are, the first bar she gripped on still in hand.  

 Returning the first bar back to where son is at, now it was on her to ensure he reached her after his turn to swing. As such, Mary began swing the bar she was on back and forth, gaining momentum with each addition swing, only increasing such until it was deemed ready. Sure enough, the bar was swinging at a good pace and now, being the naturally skill contortionist she is, Mary easily positioned the back of knees so that her calves were holding her on the swinging bar, she was hanging upside down if not for the swinging of said bar and most importantly her arms are firmly in a position to stretch as far as they can for a catch. Her part in the act was good to go, now it truly was her son’s turn to fly.

  With a nod, his own hands firmly on the bar, in position for the leap and now his mother across ready to catch him, Dick with a wide grin on his face takes the leap of the platform and swings on his bar across the air. This was it, this was the time he gets it right. The creaking of the ropes he waits for is heard, it was time to let the bar loose. Sure enough as he does so, tucking in his legs to his chest tightly, Dick has nothing to hold him but gravity itself. 

One....Here’s hoping Raymond and Calvin are seeing this 

Two....He can already hear the crowd gasping 

Three....Keep it tight and remember make sure you let arms stretch at the right moment Dad says. 

And......Four! Dick straightens out his body and stretches his arms as far as he can. 

 For the briefest of all moments, he was actually flying. Nothing carrying him, no sense of his own weight dragging him down. He was Superman at that moment. 

 Then he starts loosing his flight, gravity had set in. He stretches his arms just to tiniest bit hoping before air rushes he can....just a little bit....

 Sire enough, all too familiar hands clasps onto his own hand. That familiar calloused texture of the palms, the chalky powdery feeling...Dick looks up to all too familiar face, a very beaming and proud one on top of that 

 “I’ve got you” Mary says lovingly as she can while using her arms to carry her son safely, “Momma’s here, Little Robin.” 

  The two smile at each other with all too familiar love and happiness in their distinct pairs of blue eyes while Mary’s bar starts slowing down its momentum. Finally as it comes to near complete stop, it was time to safely descend to the safety net below. 

 Before letting her son’s grips slips from her hands, Mary pulls him up to where she can deliver a small kiss on his forehead.

 “You did great!” she exclaims happily. Just then, finally the bar’s swinging comes to stop, allowing Mary to finally lossen her grip on her son, allowing him to safely land on the net below, giggling lightly as he initially bounced on it. Just then, Dick rolled out of the way to give his mother enough space for own safe landing as she unhooks her legs from the trapeze bar and land on the net right next to him.

 Mother and son simply lay there on their sides of the net, panting after such an effort before Mary threw her arms around her little boy, hugging him close to her. “You’re learning so fast”, she says panting yet all to happily.

  Dick simply lays his head close to her, feeling her all too calming and steady heartbeat, relaxing the both of them. 

 “Happy Mother’s Day. Momma, Love you”, he whispers to her happily, as he wraps his own around her tightly 

 Mary can’t help but smile and even have tears of joy glisten her eyes. Pressing a few kisses on her son’s forehead, she whispers in turn, “And I Love you, so, so much, My Little Robin” 

[skellebonez]

So apparently in JTTW, Baije kept trying to get the monk to say the thing that would activate the torture headband? According to a post I just saw anyway. So I'd like to prompt something where Monkie Kid era Monkey King and Pigsy are arguing, and Monkey King brings that up, because it's kind of /messed up/. Preferably with prompts 25 or 47 because those seem vaguely fluffy and I don't want it to end /sad/ plz?

There are multiple times in the book (though it happened more often early on) where Zhu Bajie took full advantage of how much Tripitaka trusted him and made Wukong’s day miserable because of it, he isn’t the middle brother for nothing! The two have a better relationship as the book goes on, but as an eldest sibling I can tell you... even if you're on good terms later, sometimes you still remember the ways they used to mess with you... also I went overboard. Very overboard. This is really long.

"You have until the count of three to remove your arms from my person, or so help me…!"/ “Tell me what you want me to do."

Things had been going so well... at least as well as could be expected given they had only really seen each other twice after 500 years of Sun Wukong vanishing.

Their first meeting, their initial reunion, wasn't so much a meeting and more "hey I'm here to help MK fight because things are actually really bad and I totally don't already know who two of you are" and then lots of saving the world without the time to talk to or call out his once elder brother before he ran off. Their second meeting was not long after, Wukong coming to check up on MK at the shop and "oh yeah uh I kinda know your boss Bud". Which. Nice job revealing his secret Wukong.

That was a very interesting conversation, explaining to MK that he was indeed The Zhu Bajie from the stories and yes Tang knew and no only Tang knew and no he did not want to talk about why this was kept secret. Then it devolved into MK insisting the two of them needed to hang out together and then questions about Sandy and then how it was so cool that his dad was friends with his mentor. The at first befuddled and then completely shocked expression on Wukong's face as he finally put two and two together made agreeing to MK's insistence so much easier.

Easier than being pogo'd to Flower Fruit Mountain and then being stuck there as MK ran off to do "hero stuff" with Mei, anyway. At first it was awkward, being shown around the mountain by a man who he had spent years of his life with and was clearly trying to not look uncomfortable at the time lost between them.

Then the monkeys attacked. Well. Less attacked, more jumped on Pigsy in sheer excitement. It only took a few seconds for Wukong to cackle and pull them off him with the care of a roughhouseing father. Some of them were just little ones barely new to the world (he didn't miss how much more careful Wukong was with them), but Pigsy recognized a few of the elder ones from the time he had come here to bring Wukong back after the... WBS and Wood Wolf... event.

He also didn't expect any of them to actually remember him or to see Wukong acting so positively parental in comparison to how he acted the last time he was here. It was strange, he knew the Monkey King could be caring and that he had changed on their journey and must have become different over their time apart, but this was a side he had never truely thought he would see from him ever before. And he couldn't help but chuckle a bit at that.

It was like a tension line was finally let slack. They didn't simply slide back into banter, but they were much more relaxed. Wukong pointed out where he had been training MK, showed him to where his house stood (Pigsy wondered if he ever tried to rebuild the palace that had burnt down long before he visited all those years ago, but did not dare to bring that up either). The house was much more modern than he had expected, even having full internet access and TV and a kitchen.

He would never tell anyone about the passionate 1 hour conversation they had about cooking when he realized Wukong picked it up as a hobby. No one will ever know their debate/rant on how to properly prepare dough for steaming and how so many people do it wrong.

At some point they ate a lunch Wukong had prepared, much better than Pigsy expected, and that's probably when it went downhill.

He'd made an offhanded joke about people who use too much seasoning. Wukong joked back, asking if his underseasoned cooking was up to Pigsy's standards. Pigsy had shoved the monkey on old reflex, not hard and not nearly enough to move him, saying if he wanted him to compliment his cooking he could have just asked like a good big brother.

That had started a friendly wrestling match, not unlike ones they had had before and that drew a crowed of monkeys excited to watch. That wrestling match turned more violent before Pigsy had realized it and somehow, some way, they started actually fighting. He yelled about how Wukong had no right to just make MK his sucessor. Wukong yelled about how he chose MK because he was the most qualified and capable person he found. Pigsy shot back that he barely knew him before training him and if he had even bothered to try knowing him he would have known he was Pigsy's kid and he was a shitty mentor. Wukong screamed at that, scaring off most of their audience with the volume, picking Pigsy up off the ground entirely with his arms pinned down.

"You take that back right now, Bajie!" Wukong hissed out in a dangerous tone, one Pigsy didn't give a single damn about heeding in his anger.

"You have until the count of three to remove your arms from my person, or so help me...!" Pigsy fought against Wukong's hold, scrambling for any kind of purchase he could get with his feet dangling off the ground.

"Or what, Bajie? What!? Are you going to find another fillet and tell MK the sutra for it this time!? Are you going to make him not trust me like you did Tripitaka!? ARE YOU!?"

The words made Pigsy stop, but it was Wukong's tone that made him try to turn back to look at him. He'd sounded angry before but now he sounded... genuinely upset. Not angry upset. Sad upset. "I wouldn't do that."

"You did before." Damn it. He really was sad upset...

"Yeah... Yeah, I did." Pigsy admitted with only slight hesitation as he looked at the ground beneath him. "I'm sorry. About how I acted back then. I made everything harder than needed. I made Master hurt you and you didn't deserve it. More often than I'd like to admit..." There was a beat of silence before he decided to take a chace with a question that would probably upset Wukong more. But he had to ask. "How... how painful was it?"

The two of them didn't move for a while, Pigsy just hanging limply until Wukong slowly leaned down and set his feet back on ground. His grip losened slighly, but he didn't let Pigsy go as he rested his forehead against the back of Pigsy's head with a sigh. "Very. Very painful. It... the way it... Bajie, I don't want to-"

"You don't have to," Pigsy interrupted, raising one of his arms now that he could move to grab and squeeze his wrist. "If 'very' is all you want to say, I get it. I'm sorry."

"You already said that."

"And I'll say it again because I mean it." Pigsy pulled away, Wukong’s grip weakened enough for him to without even the smallest fight, and turned around to face him.

He reached up, Wukong giving him an odd confused look as he placed his hands over and around his forehead. Realization dawned quickly and he tensed as Pigsy felt the almost imperceptible scars hidden under his well groomed fur. For the band to have been impactful enough to leave marks at all, let alone after all this time... some didn't feel like cuts or stretches, more like burns almost.

"I'm sorry too," Wukong said suddenly. "For being an ass. I wasn't exactly the greatest travel companion myself at times. And for... for disappearing."

"I already forgave ya for the stuff on the journey long ago," Pigsy said as he pulled his hands back and crossed his arms. "Couldn't sit right with myself if I held a grudge for what you did after the shit I pulled. But I appreciate the apology for up and vanishing. And uh, I'm sorry for calling you a shitty mentor."

"You better be!" Wukong chuckled, standing up straight with an awkward crooked smile. "But, you know, I could stand to be a better teacher. You weren't wrong when I said I don’t know enough about MK."

"I could tell you a few things," Pigsy offered. "Nothing personal, just like how we met and what his job is like. To make up for the. Everything."

"Hmn..." Wukong made a point to rub his chin in thought, clearly about to do something Pigsy wondered if they would both regret. "On one condition."

"Tell me what you want me to do," Pigsy sighed out, fully resigned for whatever the Monkey King was going to ask.

"Cook me dinner."

... that... was not what he expected at all. "That's it?"

"That's it!"

That wasn't near enough to make up for anything in Pigsy's mind... but if that’s what Wukong wanted he supposed that was a start.

[cosmicjoke]

Hello there! I've already asked this question from warm-starlight and I agree with her, but I love reading different opinion so here I am :) What is your opinion on the idea that 1) part of the reason Levi wanted to kill the monk was because of Erwin and of course to give meaning to the lives of those sacrificed in RtS, and 2) Levi assisted the kids to save humanity from Eren's genocide because of Hanji? I've seen some ppl discussing this and mentioning that Levi wasn't as driven by freedom as say Hanji or as prompted as Erwin by the truth. Some others say if it wasn't for following people like Erwin and Hanji who had great ambitions he would've left the SC. From these statements, what do you think drives Levi to fight or even live? Thank you :)

Hi there, and thank you for the ask!

For your first question, Levi wanted to kill Zeke precisely because of his need to ensure his comrades that day hadn't died in vain. People often mistake Levi's drive to kill Zeke as some sort of revenge, but it wasn't that. It's a recurring motif for Levi throughout the series that he can't abide meaningless death, or the thought that his comrades died without any sort of reason. So to me, it's pretty obvious that he wanted to kill Zeke, specifically, because otherwise, it would mean all his comrades that day in Shinganshina, including Erwin, would have given up their lives for no real reason at all. If it had simply been revenge, he would have killed Zeke on one of the three occasions he had an opportunity to do so. He very purposefully didn't because it wouldn't have benefited humanity in those moments if he had.

Which leads me into your second question.

Levi assisted the 104th and Hange to stop Eren's genocide because that's just what Levi does. He's always fought to save people. Whether that's one person, or billions, in this case. I think what drives, or motivates Levi, is to help people achieve better lives, to help them accomplish their dreams, to give their lives substance beyond just surviving. It doesn't necessarily have to be some lofty, grand ideal, but just better quality of life. Like when he makes his plans with Demo Reeves in the Uprising Arc. Levi could have easily just forced Demo to do what he wanted through threats and strong arming, but instead he wanted to actually do something to help the people of the town improve their lives, to improve their quality of life, and so he spoke with and encouraged Demo to work towards that end instead. Because the town's merchants verbally attacked Levi earlier, and complained about the SC's uselessness, and their own, lousy living conditions, and Levi LISTEND. He didn't get mad, or defensive, he actually heard them, and acknowledged their suffering, and then went out of his way to do something to help them, actually came up with a plan to help them. That's just Levi. He wants to help if he can.

I don't agree with the notion that the only reason Levi stayed with the SC is because of Erwin and Hange having great ambition. He stayed because Erwin helped him to realize that by doing so, he could help the most people. While living in the Underground, Levi's power to help others was limited, because he himself was barely able to hold on and survive. It was everything he could do to simply make it from one day to the next, in such harsh, unforgiving conditions. Still, though, he did what he could. He was helping Furlan and Isabel, and did everything he could to help make their lives better, and to help them realize their dreams, which is why he came to the surface in the first place. Because he was trying to help the both of them realize their dream of living above and to give them better lives.

If you study the panels from "No Regrets" after Erwin gives his speech to Levi about humanity needing his strength, you see he thinks specifically of Furlan and Isabel and himself riding out from the walls, and their wonderment and joy at seeing the full sky for the first time. I interpreted this as Levi realizing that, even though his friends had died, they'd still gotten a chance to experience a moment of true happiness in their otherwise desperate lives, because they'd gone to the surface. Levi has always wanted to help people. Since realizing he COULD with Furlan and Isabel, it's been Levi's wish to simply help, to do what he could to make the lives of others better. It wasn't Erwin or Hange that created that feeling in Levi. That was just an inherent part of his nature. What Erwin did was help Levi to realize he could help more people up above than below, and Levi simply trusted Erwin to guide him in achieving that end, to show him how.

There's this quote from Isayama which pretty much sums all this up much more succinctly.

“It’s that he found a place to make the most of what he could do, or rather, his own special abilities.  Underground, where it was all he could do to stay alive, he had to live for that, but then he started to form relationships and began to feel that he could do things for others.  And that’s why he first went above ground...”

Levi already, while Underground, began to form relationships and realize that he could use his strength to help and support others, but he also knew while living in such a violent and desperate environment, his ability to do so would be limited, and THAT'S the reason he went above ground. And THAT'S the reason he stayed. And that's ALSO the reason he helped fight in the Battle of Heaven and Earth. Whether Levi believes true freedom is achievable, or true peace, isn't really the point. It's not about him, or his own, personal dreams. It's about others, and what they dream of. It's simply to do what he can, however little or big, to help people in whatever ways he can, whether that's improving their lives, or helping them to realize their own dreams.

And honestly, that's the purest motivation any person can have, if you ask me. To help for the sake of helping, for the sake of people and improving their lives, even in the smallest of ways.

[sombruhmoment]

the correct ‘hottest character’ tier list

not actually please dont yell at me

E: Unavailable for ranking

Hammond + Winston; Animals

Bastion + Orisa + Echo; Naive, ‘childlike’ robots that just are not attractive.

D: Hot only to very specific people

Widow; My issue with Widow is she’s basic. I’ve seen this dozens of times. Her hotness is artificial - everything about her to shove in your face her hotness, and unless you’re a very meek lesbian or a weird creepy dude, she just isn’t that hot. She’s a gimmick. If she was more professional and less for show, she’d be higher.

Tracer; Yorkshire terrier. She’d be a great s/o and friend, but she’s not exactly hot. She’s plain jane. Only especially hot to very Jane Austen lesbians and again, weird creepy dudes. 

Mercy; Boring. She doesn’t really have much personality in the media she shows up in beyond ‘angel’ and ‘tired’. The latter is the smallest portion of her character, but the most embraced. This is why she’s only hot in the fan portrayals of her in fic or art. She’s too plain and basic to be more than conventionally attractive.

Junkrat; He just ain’t, dude. Unless he’s your type, he isn’t hot. His personality doesn’t lend to his sex appeal, either. Very specific taste needed.

Mei; Only if you’re a butch lesbian or an even weirder dude. Very plain, but the body shape rep is nice. Her personality is probably only attractive if you’re into the same interests as her, or are familiar with your interests being shut down. This relationship will be a lot of gushing about fun science facts and god dang, you go you funky butch lesbians. Still not hot. 

C: Boring + bad idea

Brig; She has a hotness factor from the muscles. She still is not hot because she is so plain. She is white bread incarnate. Her personality of sweet, ‘girl-next-door’ is appealing for a relationship, but she just isn’t that hot aside from her buffness. 

Sigma; He’s often cited as one of the hotter guys, but is he, or do you just like the idea of cosmic horror? Is he hot, or do you want to be a monsterf*cker without actually commiting? He’s a traumatized Grandpa. He’s like an old, white man Mei. I’d go to the park with him and feed ducks. I would not canoodle.

Ashe; Like Widow, but more professional. She’s still boring, but at least the outfit makes her have some intrigue. Her story has the potential to make her more interesting, but let’s be real, she was only made as an attempt to stop the McHanzo shippers. 

D.va; She’s fine. She’s just a young adult. Nothing much to say. Blizzard really wants you to think she’s hot, though.

Hanzo; Look. This man, no matter when you approach him, is in a crisis. Before meeting Genji, he’s stuck in the past. After, he’s gone full white girl reinvention. I wouldn’t be surprised if your hookup was a rebound. If you canoodle him, there will be strings attached. He will call you afterwards and ask if you happened to find one of his nipple piercings in your sheets. You’ll get text messages asking if you want to smoke a joint. He has no skill in this. Until he goes to therapy, wide berth. He’s hot, but the consequences and implications outweigh the good time. 

B: A lil spice to ‘em

Torb; The personality is there. He’s a dilf. He’s a serious, but not without humor, haunted man who loves his family dearly. He gets made into a joke, but guys, this man would be a fan favorite if he wasn’t short. 

Ana; She’s adopted the Grannie personality, which knocks her down a bit, but Ana is hot even as an older woman. Not my cup ‘a joe, but she oozes sarcasm and confidence. Also, strikes fear into the rich and corrupt? Hot. 

Genji; He’s Hanzo, but after therapy. He’s got his ish together. He’ll treat you right. It’ll be the best relationship you’ve ever had because he’s so good at communication. But this isn’t about relationships. He’s hot because he’s vanilla. He’s a simple guy - and lets face it, a bottom. One of the plainer options, but still has some appeal to him with his maturity.

Zarya; Buff woman. Hot. Her personality isn’t for everyone, and her racism is...ugh...but c’mon. Look at her biceps. Look at them.

Moira; Will experiment on you in more ways than you expect. Androgynous, David Bowie. Not for the faint of heart. You’re definitely a lesbian or a femboy. Hot for her evilness. Not so hot for her nails. Not a good idea. Be careful.

Reinhardt; Big grandpa man. A gentle soul. Very loud. He’s hot for his confidence and voice. But, again, sooner feed ducks with him than anything else.

A: Hot

Sombra; Evil, intelligent, mischievous woman who is always one step ahead? Hot.

Doomfist; You are lying to yourself if you think he isn’t attractive. Jerk? No question. But listen to his voice. He’s classy, humorous, and very nicely muscled. Do not pursue a relationship under any circumstance, but look all you’d like. 

Zen; Like Genji, but hotter because of the inherent controversy of canoodling a monk. 

Soldier; Raspy voice, nice bone structure, haunted past, beefy but not too beefy. Kinda basic, but still appealing. 

Roadhog; Voice. Voice. Voice. This man is hot. You are a coward. Dad bod x 10. 

Lucio; Anarchist, fights corps, very kind and sweet. Lean muscle and fierce. Gentle and plays with kids. Cutie.

S: Hottest

Baptiste; Beefy, has some cake, romantic flirt, will take C A R E of you and make you breakfast. Look at him. Haunted past, muscles, nice voice, you KNOW he takes care of his nails and hygiene. Not just a good night, marry this man. Someone else will if you don’t. Hottest character in Overwatch.

McCree; Voice, dad bod, tanned, probably smells like smoke and sand. He’s a sweetie, but has some edge to him. A nice middle ground between Hot Evil and Hot Cute. Beard is definitely scratchy. 

Pharah; Buff woman with a nice voice, cute sense of humor, and sense of loyalty and responsibility? Like a female Baptiste. Go get the ring. Now. 

Reaper; Haunted past, claws, monster/inhuman, and that voice. Don’t pursue relationship. Casual meetups? Sure. Do not catch feelings, this isn’t a Wattpad story and you are not y/n, you will not change him.

Symmetra; She’s kinda confused but she has a good heart, good voice, and very nice legs. She’s dripping charisma and confidence, look at her. You are below her and that is quite an enjoyable experience. Would be a decent s/o, would have a lot to learn but she’d try her best.