#HE'S A STEAMED DUMPLING I NEED TO EAT HIM

[astraystayyh]

FLOUR BOIIII LIVVVVE🥹

me rn

[hoshifighting]

LYLAAAAAAAAA OMG ILYSM EAT ABD SKEEP AND DRINK WELL!!!

if you don't mind a req, Jihoon (or svt reaction) when he finds how good it feels to use a shower spray against the hoohaa

clit stimulation using shower spray w woozi <33

WARNINGS: situationship!woozi, bath sex, using shower head to masturbate, dirty talk, mentions of body fluids (cum)

it always started like this with jihoon—blurred lines that somehow felt crystal clear when you were with him. like, you knew what it was, but did you really? dude would pass by your place at 10 p.m. like, “you eat yet? i got chicken katsu.” then, five hours later, he’s snoring on your couch, legs tangled with yours, an arm slung over your stomach like he lived there. and yeah, maybe he didn’t outright say things, but actions...oh, he was fluent.

tonight wasn’t any different. except it was.

you were mid-rant to your group chat about some guy hitting on you at the café when jihoon’s name popped up. jihoon: "should i bring dumplings or ramen? heading over." like. no question if you wanted him over; just straight vibes of "you good? i’m on my way."

fast-forward, and somehow, you ended up here—in the shower, your body pressed up against the tiles while jihoon held your leg like he was tuning a guitar. the steam made everything feel hazy, as he rinsed the soapy bubbles from your body.

the shower spray hit your inner thigh, the pressure tracing lazy lines up to places he wasn’t even aiming for. “lift a little,” he mumbled, voice low like the water could hear him. his hand slid behind your knee, steadying you like it wasn’t a big deal, but when that stream hit right at your clit. your breath stuttered, sharp enough to make his brows knit together.

“what?” he asked, head tilting like a curious cat. the fucker.

you shook your head, mortified.

his lips twitched, like he didn’t fully buy it, but he adjusted the angle anyway, aiming higher. too high. a broken moan fell out of your mouth, and your hand flew to his shoulder, digging in like it could stop time. it didn’t.

jihoon froze, the stream still very much pressing where it shouldn’t. “wait.” his tone was careful, but the corners of his mouth betrayed him. “does that—does it feel good?”

you groaned, smacking your forehead against his collarbone. “don’t.”

“i’m not judging!” he insisted, but the joy in his voice was hella obvious. “just—wait. do you do this by yourself? like, on purpose?”

“oh my god, stop talking.” you could feel your face burning, like the steam was actively conspiring against you.

jihoon chuckled under his breath, this low, knowing sound that made your embarrassment worse. “okay, okay. no answer needed.” he adjusted the spray, the water softening into a gentler stream, but he didn’t let go of your leg. didn’t pull away either.

the shower went silent for a beat, save for the soft patter of water hitting tiles. you thought that was it—mortification over, donezo. until jihoon, of course, had to ruin it.

“so... you want me to keep going?”

your gaze flickered to him, catching the way his eyes softened regardless the sneer tugging at his lips. you bit your lip, heart pounding louder than the water. and then, quietly, like you were confessing to a crime, you mumbled, “mhmm.”

his grip on your leg tightened just a fraction, his smirk deepening. “okay,” he whispered, so gentle it made your chest ache. “just relax, yeah?”

his hand tightened around your thigh like he was steadying himself, except you knew it was for you. the spray hadn’t moved yet, still teasing the edge of your inner thigh, the warm water trailing in lazy streaks down your skin. jihoon adjusted his grip slightly, his thumb grazing the back of your knee.

“you good?” his voice was soft, almost too soft, and when you peeked up at him, his eyes weren’t mocking anymore. he looked focused. calm. it made your chest twist in ways you weren’t ready to deal with.

you nodded, swallowing hard. “yeah.”

“okay.” he glanced down, adjusting the showerhead with his free hand, the click of the spray setting sounding far too loud in the intimate quiet of the bathroom. then, like he’d done it a thousand times before, he tilted the stream closer, the water landing in a direct line that made your toes curl.

“jihoon—” your voice cracked, half his name, half a choke, and your body jolted on reflex. the spray circled over your clit, not quite a flick but not soft either, the pressure just shy of overwhelming.

he paused instantly, pulling the water back. “too much?”

“no, no,” you rushed, your hand gripping his shoulder like it was your lifeline. “just—fuck, i wasn’t ready.”

his lips curved into the faintest smirk, a tiny dimple ghosting one cheek. “should’ve said something. i could’ve warned you.”

you grumbled, heat blooming up your neck, he was already moving again, guiding the water in slow circles. it was gentle at first, the warmth rolling over you, but as he shifted his wrist, tilting the angle just slightly, the stream narrowed, honing in on that one spot.

your hips bucked forward, a strangled whine slipping from your throat, and jihoon chuckled low under his breath. “there it is,” he murmured, almost like he was talking to himself. “feels good, hmm?”

you wanted to snap at him, to tell him to stop talking like he wasn’t wrecking you in the middle of your own bathroom, but the words dissolved into a needy moan as he flicked the stream upward, the water hitting just right. your fingers dug into his arm, and you swore your knees might give out.

“careful,” he said, his tone shifting to something softer, his hand sliding to cup your hip as his forearm holds the back of your knee now, grounding you. “don’t go falling on me now.”

“easy for you to say,” you bit out, your voice trembling, but he only hummed in response.

he switched the spray again, this time narrowing it even more, and when he angled it just below your clit, letting the water ripple against you in a teasing rhythm, your head tipped back against the tile. “holy fuck,” you choked, legs trembling.

jihoon’s smirk widened, but his grip didn’t falter. “yeah?” he asked. “you like that, hmm?”

your only response was a broken whimper, and his hand flexed against your hip like he was fighting the urge to pull you closer. “relax,” he murmured, his voice steady even as his own breath hitched slightly. “just let it happen. i got you.”

you did relax, maybe too much, because the next moment, your leg wobbled, your body sliding just enough to make you panic. but jihoon moved instantly, catching you before you could even process it, his arm locking around your waist while he adjusted the spray back to that perfect rhythm.

“gotcha,” he said, and there was something in his voice—pride, maybe, or just satisfaction at the way you melted into him. “thought you were gonna make me work for it.”

you glared weakly at him, your cheeks burning, but it only made him laugh, the sound soft and familiar, grounding you even as your body threatened to unravel.

“don’t worry,” he added, his voice dipping as the spray circled again, the pressure building making your vision blur. “i’m not stopping ‘til you’re begging me to.”

jihoon adjusted the spray again, sharper now, the stream jolting directly onto your clit. it wasn’t gentle, wasn’t soft. the sound that ripped from your throat wasn’t human, and your body arched against the tile, your back curving like a bowstring pulled too tight. your neck stretched, your breasts lifting as your lungs fought for air, and he didn’t move.

he just watched. studied, really. his eyes darted between yours, flicking from one to the other, then down to your parted lips, swollen and trembling. but then, as if he couldn’t resist, his gaze fell lower, trailing the path of your shivering belly, your chest rising and falling in frantic bursts.

his grip on your waist tightened, keeping you steady as your legs buckled again. the way you shook wasn’t subtle—your entire body was trembling, your muscles pulled taut under his hands. but jihoon didn’t stop. he tilted the stream slightly, letting the water flick at just the right angle again, and the sound that escaped you was downright obscene, echoing off the walls of the bathroom.

“fuck, jihoon—” your voice cracked on his name, and the way his lips twitched into a barely-there smirk made you want to scream for an entirely different reason.

“yes?” he asked, his tone smooth, but his breath wasn’t. it was uneven, shaky, like he was feeling this just as much as you were. “i can feel it—you’re so close.”

he was right. too right. the pressure built and built, your thighs clenching around nothing as your core tightened, heat pooling low in your belly and spilling over. the water, the angle, his goddamn voice—it was all too much.

“hoon, i—fuck, i’m—” the words dissolved into a scream as your orgasm tore through you. your hips jerked forward, your body trembling uncontrollably as the spray kept hitting that same devastating spot. your moans were loud, messy, your breath hitching in sobs as your climax rolled on.

jihoon didn’t move, his hand firm on your waist, keeping you upright as your legs gave out completely. he looked mesmerized, his jaw tight, his eyes flickering between your face and your trembling pussy. “fuck,” he whispered like he didn’t mean for you to hear it.

but the spray didn’t let up. even as you sagged against him, your hands clutching his arms for dear life, the water kept its merciless rhythm, and your overstimulated nerves lit up like fireworks. “jihoon,” you whimpered. “s-stop—too much, it’s—”

he blinked out of his trance, his fingers brushing your hip in silent reassurance before he turned the showerhead aside, finally giving you mercy. the sudden absence of stimulation left you gasping.

jihoon’s gaze dropped, and when he saw it—saw the string of your cum clinging to your folds before dripping down to the tile—his breath hitched. it was wet, but wasn’t water; it couldn’t have been. it was too viscous, too familiar. the memory of your taste, sweet and unique flickered in his mind, and he swallowed hard.

[vrystalius]

I was watching Sanemi's training episode and thought about this ask."Sanemi was training the hunters,his wife called him and all the hunters to have lunch with the delicious food she made,but when the hunters saw Sanemi's wife they were enchanted by her beauty and kindness,how would Sanemi react to seeing the hunters enchanted by his wife's beauty?" (Sorry for my bad english)

❕Sanemi’s reaction to his trainees being enchanted by you

You were kind enough to prepare meals for Sanemi’s students after a long and gruelling training session. They absolutely adore you! How will your husband react?

Note: Thank you so much for requesting. Your english is very good, don’t worry! I have another request in my inbox I’m planning to write and publish today. Sorry for not being very active today.

Pairing: Sanemi x fem!reader

— Sanemi has been letting his assigned slayers suffer. He beat their ass with the wooden training katana until it broke, or until the slayer passed out. If the wooden katana broke before the trainee did, Sanemi made sure to continue with his fists. Is this even proper training anymore? Striking or even coming close to this maniac seemed impossible!!

— You knew that your husband is not holding back with his assigned slayers, and so you prepared beforehand: You had a fully stocked pantry and medical closet. You made sure to grab extra medicine and bandages from the butterfly mansion even before the first slayers arrived, wanted to make sure everyone is surviving Sanemi’s training.

— While Sanemi was taking on his trainees, you were cooking some veggie miso soup with a side of steamed dumplings. While that was brewing, you were making a small batch of ohagi just for Sanemi. It’s also very tiring for him, and you’re sure he’d want something sweet to eat during his break.

— Shortly after pouring the soup into the bowls and arranging the dumplings on side dishes, the first starved and badly bruised slayers arrived. Well, they more likely crawled towards the scent of food.

— While they wolfed down their bowls of veggie miso soup, you carefully tended to their wounds while they were distracted. You dabbed on an ointment and wrapped some bandages around their torso’s, arms and legs, speaking encouraging words to them. After the slayers ate and managed to rest up for a while, they actually realised from who they got all this caring attention from.

“Mrs.Sh-Shinazugawa! You’re an angel! Our saviour!”

“Can I have another bowl of soup? Pleeeaase?”

“My shoulder hurts, can you massage me a little? Pretty please, Mrs.Shinazugawa!!”

— But one question lingered on their minds collectively: How the hell did Sanemi find such an angel of a woman like you?! And how the hell did you agree to marry him? Were you forced? Paid? Beaten into submission?!

— Regardless, more and more of Sanemi’s poor trainees showed up crawling, sobbing or being carried/dragged across the dirt by their mates. They desperately needed nourishment and tending to their wounds, or there will be fatalities. You didn’t know if you were supposed to laugh or cry at the sight.

— Sanemi noticed how more and more of his slayers disappeared. Are they seriously hiding from him? Idiots. He started stomping through the training ground, following the smell of green tea and miso soup. That’s where he found you and almost all of his slayers.

— You tended to almost every single slayer personally, patching them up and giving them encouraging words. Some of his trainees even started following you around, trying to help you out and leave a good impression. Maybe you’ll give them extra portions of food or kind praises? Your voice sounded like a healing melody in comparison to Sanemi’s constant yelling and insults.

— But the peaceful atmosphere of you giving out some leftover miso soup and holding some light conversation with the trainees here and there was interrupted by Sanemi’s yelling.

“You’re all useless!! Ya think hiding behind my wife is allowing you to skip training, hah?! Back to the training grounds, shitheads!!”

— Yes, Sanemi is incredibly angry about his slayers hiding from him, especially crawling to you for safety and respite. But he’s more angry about the fact how they were all trying to get your attention and affections. Sanemi doesn’t mind when you interact with other people, or even men. He gets slightly jealous when men get too comfortable and start flirting with you,but Sanemi trusts you. He will interfere if things get too much though, just like now.

— Sanemi is feeling very jealous right now. He saw how you tended to the slayers. Your fingers were wrapping bandages around their wounds and bruises, and you were being so incredibly gentle and soft. You were blushing at their compliments and thanked them gracefully when they help you out.

— Your gentle touches should only be reserved for *him when you patch him up after a long night. Your hands should only touch *his skin with such carefulness and gentleness, and only Sanemi is supposed to make you blush with his* praises. Not these… good-for-nothing slayers.

— You are not oblivious, and you realised why Sanemi was really shooing them away. That’s exactly why you prepared the small batch of ohagi, just to show him that in the end, he’s the only one that received special treatment and affection from you. Although Sanemi only stops grumbling and complaining to you about his assigned trainees’ behaviour once you give him at least one kiss and some reassurance. But he still gave out severe punishments afterwards.

“Their annoying asses are getting on my damn nerves. I’m gonna have a fucking headache in the evening… soo… cuddles? Later?”

💠

Thank you for reading! Hope you enjoyed.

Anways, make sure to EAT, SLEEP and DRINK enough!

Take care of yourselves <3

[buckysgrace]

Apple Dumplin'

Steve Harrington x fem!Reader

Flufftober 2024

Steve takes you apple picking. 

You bounced your knee up and down in the seat, holding your fingers tightly together as you waited for Steve to return with your sweets he was collecting. You had a scarf wrapped around your neck, a long sleeved shirt on and a pair of pants that was thick enough to keep you warm from the chilly breeze. The coldness wasn’t unbearable, just cold enough to make your cheeks burn. 

“Okay so-,” Steve approached, hair wind blown and kissed from the sun as he sat down a few different items that had been sandwiched between his long fingers, “Apple cider, caramel and candy apples, apple butter, apple pie and uh, I think that was an apple dumpling. It’s new.” He presented to you, making you blink in surprise at the mass amount of items. 

“What is it?” You asked him as you poked at the last object, yanking your finger back at how warm it felt. He pulled his jacket around him tighter, wrinkling his eyebrows together. 

“Uh,” He paused as he looked at it again, “Some sort of apple donut? I don’t really know, it just looked good.” He shrugged his shoulders, making you smile as you gently picked it up this time. You placed it against your teeth, taking a bite from it. 

“It’s really good.” You told him seriously, your tongue burning with the flavor of melted caramel, cinnamon and soft dough. The apples were crisp and soft too. You handed it towards him, laughing as he leaned forward and took the rest of it from your hand with a large bite.

“That’s hot,” He protested, fanning his mouth as he quickly chewed it down, “You could’ve warned me.” He remarked playfully, but his eyes were still widened in a flurry of panic as he tried to keep from burning his mouth. 

“I thought you knew,” You defended yourself, fanning your hand as well to try and help, “I’m sorry. I thought you saw the heat from that sucker.” You told him seriously, laughing as steam rolled out of his mouth. 

“It’s good,” He agreed a second later, smiling as he wiped at his lips with the back of his hand, “Just blistering. My tongue hurts.” He rolled his tongue around inside of his mouth, as if to prove a point 

“Do you need a kiss?” You teased him, passing the apple cider over in hopes that it would help some. He took a big gulp, fluttering his eyelashes before he turned back to you in amusement. 

“Yes,” He answered cheesily, eyes glazed with mischief as he looked at you, “I’d appreciate that very much.” He dropped the cup down back onto the table, making you grin as he leaned forward expectantly. 

You leaned over the table, letting your fingers graze against his wrists gently as you slowly dipped your head down to meet his. You grazed your lips over his gently, tasting the leftover sugar and cinnamon as electricity spread through your body. 

“Better?” You asked him as you pulled away, flattered by the lovestruck look in his eyes. He was too cute for his own good. 

“Much,” He grinned, taking you by surprise as he shoved a spoonful of apple pie into your mouth, “How’s that taste?” He questioned you as you rolled the bite around in your mouth. 

“Really sweet,” You spit out between mouthfuls, “I really like it.” You stated, nodding your head in approval as he pushed the pie back to himself. 

“It is good,” He agreed as he used the same spoon to eat from, “But not as sweet as you.” He replied with a small smirk, making your insides warm. 

“Flattered,” You giggled as you held your hand to your chest, “It's like you’re trying to impress me or something.” You teased him, sending him a sly wink before you dived into your next apple dessert. 

“I’m your boyfriend, that’s my job.” He added, stealing the fork from you once again. Underneath the table he slid his shoe between 

“Robin said it’s to be corny,” You added as you took a sip from your shared apple cider, “Which you are, just a bit.” You added as you pressed your fingers close together. You didn’t mind it though, not one bit. 

“It doesn’t sound like you’re complaining.” He cocked his eyebrows playfully as you both fought over who got the last piece of apple pie. 

“No, I love it,” You grinned as you watched him chew it down triumphantly, “Very much so.” You grinned as you bumped your knees against his, hoping that he enjoyed that last piece.

The farm wasn’t too busy today, but you supposed that had to do with it being a Tuesday afternoon. But it was the only day that you didn’t have class and Steve was off. Even though you knew you’d ditch class if he asked you to.

“So we just take whatever?” Steve turned towards you curiously, fixing the hem of his shirt to keep the material from falling against his palms. His sweater was yellow, fitting him quite nicely with the afternoon glow. 

“It said a basketful,” You repeated as you thought about what the rules had said, “So I guess however much we can fit in here.” You gave your wooden basket a little spank, just to prove your point.

“Sweet,” He added, taking the basket from your hand and linking your fingers together with his free one, “See any you like?” He questioned as you two went forward on your path. 

Rows and rows of trees lied in front of you, all of them covered with bright red apples. Thick and gleaming. You weren’t sure which ones were best, or how to tell which ones were bad. They all looked great. Good enough to pull off of the limbs and take a bite out of. 

“Um,” You paused as you came to a thicker branch, “These look nice and red.” You replied, picking a few off of one of the trees. You were about halfway down your current row. That had to be a good spot. Well, at least you hoped it was. It would be your luck to bring home a basket full of rotting apples. 

“What about these?” Steve hummed in agreement, motioning to a cluster of apples just above where yours had been located. Maybe you had found the best tree. 

“Get those too,” You nodded your head, letting him get the ones that were higher up, “Yeah. We’re doing good.” You reassured him, feeling proud of the amount you had found so far. 

The two of you went on like that for a while, gathering and plucking different apples as you searched through the various trees. The basket slowly began to get heavier and heavier, making the two of you switch back and forth on who was carrying it. 

“How many apples is too many apples?” You asked him seriously, grinding your teeth together as he tentatively balanced another apple on top of the rest. Your basket was close to exploding, the apples just a brief motion from falling into the dirt. 

“Will we eat all of these?” He asked you seriously, both of you sharing a little laugh. You were sure by the end of this you would be tired of apples, but it was still fun. You’d find something to do with them. 

“We could try and make apple butter,” You stated as you thought about it, “And we could candy them. Or we could make an apple pie.” You thought of the various desserts you’d had earlier, thinking they could be easy enough to replicate.

“So yes?” He asked as he cocked an eyebrow, shifting the basket towards you. You reached out, gripping the other side so it didn’t topple over. 

“Yes,” You agreed with a nod of your head, “I have faith in us.” You told him, a bit amused by the thought of him selling desserts on the side. Perhaps he could bake little desserts for the kids he occasionally watched too. You were sure that they would like it. 

You walked with him, both holding onto one side of a sagging basket as the sun warmed your back. The breeze was cool as it drifted you both towards the end of the lot, an occasional apple falling free from your basket. But you didn’t worry about it. Not with Steve convincing you that it would be totally fine to have apple pie for dinner. 

[legend-as-old-as-time]

All for the organic'd off shoot food hcs <3 i went way overboard <3 help <3

Kopaka: more curious about tastes than eager to eat, he collects them kind of like cards. Big fan of fatty meat of any kind, will devour it without even noticing. Not that big on vegetables

Pohatu: would eat cardboard if vaguely salted. Has a fondness for anything vaguely dumpling- or pie-like, and he likes offering bites to others before scarfing the whole thing down his throat

Gali: same as Pohatu, though she prefers veggies and fish and seafood and slugs and algae and bite sized fruits like grapes or berries. Shes really likes jello for some reason too

Onua: same as Pohatu and Gali but hes more of a bread and potatoes guy. Can and will carve out a pumpkin with his bare hands and eat it in one sitting if left unsupervised

Lewa: finally someone NORMAL about food!! Prefers slimy things like mushrooms and eels or juice-heavy fruit, but otherwise will try a bit of everything. Likes stuff fried or steamed

Tahu: very sensitive to consistency, too soft foods trigger his gag reflex. Likes nuts, raw veggies, insects, crayfish, lobsters, crabs, burnt stuff... Not as resistant to spices as you'd think

Jaller: the Capsaicin Conqueror, bites into ghost peppers unscathed. Soup savorer, with time will be able to whip out broths that could make Vakama Metru forgive himself

Hahli: mussels!! Oysters!! Clams!! Sea urchins!! Squids!! Octopi!! Big noodle slurper who canNOT handle sauce. She will get it Everywhere. Enjoyer of endives and hater of seasonings

Nuparu: genuinely cannot handle chewing so aside form jello everything needs to be blended into a smoothie. He slams back concoctions that would make a Makuta shiver. Taste is optional

Hewkii: could eat through the cheese caves if released within them. Hates seafood but everything else is fair game. Has tried Nuparu's horrible smoothies and survived several times

Kongu: texture is a big factor and he cant handle too slimy or too fatty things bc of this. Likes acidic or bitter flavors, sauces, dried fruit, and bugs. Refuses to eat poultry

Matoro: the concept of "doomed by the narrative" be damned my boy can hunt game and work a grill

Whenua: slurper of worms... Big fan of turnips for some reason. Its hard for him to find anything he doesnt like really

Nuju: loves poultry and butter and fish and berries and nuts... Stews... Creamy soups... God he loves eating. He could do it for hours

Vakama: vegetables and small game, cooked underground or boiled. Eats spiders by reflex for reasons you can imagine

Matau: LOVES poached eggs. Herbs n spices n fruits are his favorite. Unusual meats for him, like frogs and lizards

Nokama: will bite through any shell and bone no problem. Discovers a taste for bone marrow. Very picky with vegetables

Takanuva: if it were up to him he would eat only sweet things. lactose intolerant. Will that stop him from scarfing down gallons of cream? No babey!!!

Thank you! And thhose are neat headcanons!!

[mydisenchantedeulogy]

Dying Light [Chapter Two] Room to Breathe [Bi-Han/Sub-Zero]

A/n: I want to thank everyone for the lovely support and kind words going into the first chapter. I appreciate it so much.

Warning(s): dread, female reader, arranged marriage trope, Bi-Han being Bi-Han, breakdown, overwhelmed reader, tears.

Taglist: @genesiswrld @cherryblossomly @dilf-destroyer-04 @louis2gobrrn @umbransister

No Minors Allowed!!

The sweet and earthy aroma of dumplings and oven-baked flatbread reminds you that breakfast is near. For the first time, you are dreading it. 

Though it is a surprise to you, when you wander into the dining room, that Bi-Han is not among your immediate family. He must have chosen to eat alone. This you take comfort in, however, your parents and their gauging stares, do not make the dread stirring inside you disappear. 

You sit on the opposite side of the table in front of your mother and before long, the servants bring out a small spread of breakfast foods; congee, eggs, dumplings, and a variety of flat breads. You awkwardly fill your plate and begin to eat, grimacing as a stab of pain from your busted lip suddenly overtakes you.

The minor injuries that you sustained from the previous day's spar look much worse today. A bruise is slowly developing across your cheek and chest, and the split in your lip looks raw; an eyesore that your mother points out.  

“You do not look well, daughter,” she mentions. 

“It looks worse than it feels,” you assure her.

It is the high price of making your clan look good, nothing more.

Eating in silence, you witness a strange look your mother gives your father. You raise a brow.

“Is there something wrong?” 

Your father hums. He takes a moment to drink his tea before he answers, clearing his throat. 

“Due to unpredicted circumstances, I can not show Bi-Han to the training court today. It was his wish to watch our fighters train.��

That is unfortunate, you reckon. You sigh. So he is sold on this merger after all. 

“It will do you some good to bond with your husband-to-be,” your mother states, cutting in. “Show him the compound.” 

Is she serious? You give your father a curious look, but he merely nods, agreeing with her. As much as you want to decline, you know that it is unwise. 

“I will take him.”

Your mother grins proudly.

“I am pleased to hear that. Bi-Han took an interest in you.”

Did he? You glance at your father.

“What did he say?”

“He was irked that I did not tell him prior about your capability with magic, but overall, he was curious about you.”

Even so, you are not sure what to make of this. What it means in the grander scheme of things is that you are not as insignificant as he had thought. Still, your future with Bi-Han is hazy. What will he expect of you now? You are not sure you want to know. 

“Where is he?” You ask with a sigh. 

“The servants prepared him a room in the eastern wing of the house. He should be there, having breakfast,” your mother answers. 

Then there is no need to rush him. You take your time to eat, and then when you are done, you sigh in apprehension. 

Might as well get this over with. 

Excusing yourself from the table, you wait for permission, then you stand and walk toward the front door. The Eastern wing is easier to get to via the inner courtyard, so you leave the main house and walk to the entrance.

Normally, the Eastern wing is where the fighters reside; the Western wing houses the servants and their families. So it is no surprise to you when you approach the far end of the wing that several Lin Kuei assassins are on guard. You wander past them with no problem, but you can feel their eyes burning holes into you. 

Approaching the door to Bi-Han’s room, you knock softly. A moment later, he permits you to enter, and you do so hesitantly. 

The said Grandmaster is seated at a low table in the center of the room. His breakfast has been eaten, leaving nothing but a steaming kettle of tea in front of him. However, the thing that draws your attention is that Bi-Han is without his mask. His angular face and sharp features, despite his obvious scowl, are attractive qualities. 

“Is there something you want?”

His tone makes you frown. You avert your eyes. 

“My father was meant to escort you to the training court, but unforeseen preparations have delayed him. He asked that I do it instead.” 

Bi-Han hums. He takes a drink from his cup and then stands, brushing off his loose-fitting robe.

“Let us go.”

Without a word, you leave the room and lead him from the Eastern wing to the inner courtyard on the Southwestern side of the compound. The court is on the far end of the wing in a square-shaped field. 

Standing off to the side near the inner wall, you wait in silence next to Bi-Han as he spectates. The fighters are in sync, practicing kicks and punches as a teacher orders them. Your master is off to the side, watching in satisfaction as her style is passed on. 

You can not fathom her pride, though perhaps one day you will know what it feels like if you have students of your own. 

That is not a guaranteed possibility anymore. 

Not after you marry Bi-Han. 

You turn your eyes to him and take in his curious expression as he watches. When he catches you unexpectedly, his brows knit. You sigh. 

“It is nearly time for them to spar.”

This is awkward. You do not know how you are meant to bond with a man so high-handed and reserved. What do you even talk about? Fighting? Your interests? You scoff. Of course not. 

“It is no concern of mine your inner protests,” Bi-Han states. “However, they are irksome.”

You tighten your jaw. This man is exhausting. 

“It was not my intention to involve you in them.” 

“Speak your mind,” he orders. 

For someone not concerned, he is rather curious. You can not help your irritation.

“I'm sure there are far better clans to merge with.”

“But none so willing,” Bi-Han states without a moment of hesitation. 

He is right about that. You can not be mad about something true. Though, you do not have to agree with it.

“I don't share my parent's sentiments.”

Bi-Han turns his eyes to you and then averts them. Whatever he has on his mind, he does not share. After a moment, he crosses his arms and hums. 

“It is a shame to waste potential like your masters. She would benefit the Lin Kuei.” 

You hum, feeling less annoyed. Looking across the field at your master, you frown. 

“Time has a way of weakening us all. Passing our teachings onto others is what keeps our principles alive. She is at peace knowing that her martial arts will live on.” 

“You learned from her, did you not?”

You nod. 

“How to fight, yes. When I was a child. She saw potential in me that I did not…and she was right.” 

“Your clan does not seem to know magic, yet you wield it. Did her teachings help you to utilize your chi?”

You recall her telling you about this. Humans can learn magic, but it takes concentration and special training; the likes that she is not capable of. 

Is it really that impressive to Bi-Han? You feel almost elated by this.

Reaching down to your side, you grab the amulet and allow him to take a closer look at it. 

“My magic comes from this. There is a tale that derived from my clan about a sorceress from Outworld, it is the reason we know of it. The tale goes that she put her magic essence into the amulet and came here to aid a warrior, one she foresaw would rise to be a great champion.” 

“And you are this prophesied one?” Bi-Han asks with a skeptical look. 

You snort. No, you do not think you are. 

“I'm no great champion, but I was able to utilize its magic better than anyone before me, so until someone comes along who better uses it, I will remain the owner of the Amulet of Damashi.” 

“I have not heard of this Damashi,” Bi-Han states with a raised brow. “How does it work?”

You honestly have no idea, and even if you did, there are some secrets better left unsaid. Opting to remind your soon-to-be husband about this, the sound of someone addressing you by name halts you. 

Your father offers you a pleased look. 

“I thought you were delayed, Father.” 

He hums. 

“I have done all I can for today, so I am here to relieve you.”

It was not as bad as you had expected, though it could have been better. You smile. 

“Then I will join the others.”

“Before you do, there is an important matter your mother needs to speak with you about. She is in the dining room,” your father tells you. 

What is the important matter? You are curious. Turning your eyes to Bi-Han you offer him a polite smile. 

“Please excuse me. We will continue this conversation later.”

Bi-Han agrees with a brief nod.

Hastily, you saunter back across the courtyard to the main house, forcing the awkward events of the day to the back of your mind. There are much more important matters at hand. 

As said, your mother awaits your company. 

“Sit for a moment,” she orders while motioning in front of her. 

As you eagerly do so, she sets a scroll out on the table and unfolds it. You raise a curious brow. 

“This is your marital contract,” she discloses. “It was written and signed by your father and the former Grandmaster of the Lin Kuei many years ago.”

You were not aware that there was a contract made. It makes sense though. Written, it is certified, not merely a verbal agreement.

“What does it entail?” You ask curiously.

“That our two families are to become one. A list of stipulations was written, but that does not concern you,” she answers. “What does, is the upcoming ceremony, which will take place tomorrow afternoon.”

Tomorrow. Is she serious? That is too sudden.

“That…doesn't follow tradition,” you state. 

Your mother frowns. 

“Not entirely no, but times have changed. And at least some of the etiquettes have been fulfilled. We received the Betrothal Letter many years ago. The former Grandmaster came to us with the proposal and yesterday your father set the date with Bi-Han over tea.”

So he knew. He agreed for the ceremony to be so soon. You honestly feel a bit overwhelmed. It's like the walls are closing in on you bit by bit. 

“I am not ready for this,” you admit.

What happened to a fair warning? 

“Leave the preparations to me. While it is last minute, I have it under control,” your mother states. 

She almost sounds eager, but preparations are not what concerns you. 

“I…I need a moment to think.”

Your mother sighs. 

“This ceremony is taking place nonetheless, so have your moment, but as of tomorrow, you will need to put aside your issue for the sake of the clan.” 

You tighten your jaw. This sake of the clan nonsense is getting on your last nerve. All it boils down to is the comfort of your parents as they sign over their future and yours. 

Standing, you storm out of the room and to the balcony overlooking the garden. As soon as you are alone, your control crumbles.

“Perhaps you should marry him if you are so damn desperate. Does what I feel not matter? Do I not matter?”

Angry tears sting your eyes, turning the world into a saturated blur. 

You growl in frustration. Despite wanting to take your frustrations out on something, you force yourself to calm down, sitting on your knees in the doorway.

I can't do this to myself, not now. I have to be strong. 

With an uneasy sigh, you wipe the tears from your face.

“It's fine. I'm fine,” you tell yourself. 

It's a lie. 

The truth is you are tired and angry of being made to feel unimportant despite trying your best to take control of your life. 

Tomorrow you might feel better - you doubt it - but as of tonight, you just need to be alone.

[moonyasnow]

My OCs in 'Dungeon Meshi'

What the title says: if they were in the world of Dungeon Meshi

Forgive Spike's…everything— I was in a moving car when I drew him. I also changed what race I wanted him to be halfway through, hence the two pairs of ears

I did not have access to an eraser when I drew any of these

More thoughts below!

How each of them would react to eating monsters:

Tomoe wouldn't be…hostile to the idea. She understands very well it not only saves money, things they'd need to carry, and how long it'd take to traverse the dungeon; practically eliminating the need to return to the surface unless something drastic were to happen. When she brings up the idea, she can already guess how each of the others would react to it. But she won't force anyone; she's understand unwillingness. As for her own feelings: before they begin to cut the monster up to prepare food, she thanks it for its sacrifice. She's…a bit reluctant to let herself admit it tasted good, though. But she decides to ignore it and instead focus on the 'sharing a meal with others' aspect. Partly so none of the others will get cold feet about it, which she definitely knows could happen if they saw their leader hesitant to her own idea.

Favorite monster meal: Griffin Soup

Veronica grumbles about it at first, but ultimately eats it, understanding they don't have much choice. And Tomoe framing it to her as a means of survival made it easier for Veronica to accept. Gotta do what you gotta do to survive to see another day. She gets used to it rather quickly. And she also quickly started to pick anything bitter off of Victor's plate and exchanging it with something else from her plate, like she always had. Despite how the gruesome the scenario was, she was happy to see him that happy; he hadn't had that look on his face in who knows how many years.

Favorite monster meal: Nightmares Steamed in Sake

Victor is thrilled. He's called first dibs on dissecting ALL the monsters before they eat them. He often saves little parts of them, mostly bones, to use for more undead minions medicinal reasons. He's particularly interested in the humanoid monsters, like mermaids, harpies and dryads. Also finds a lot of joy in studying monsters. He's sad the others wouldn't let him keep one in a bag to torture and experiment on study.

Favorite monster meal: Exorcism Sorbet

Irina would not be able to eat it at all if she saw it get killed, or it has an even vaguely humanoid face. It'd probably give her nightmares if she tried. The whole situation forces her to think more about the fact that all the meat she eats was once alive. It makes her feel incredibly guilty. She's never been picky with food, but she can barely scarf it down.

Favorite monster meal: Changeling Dumplings from Fairy Ring

Junia, lover of all things macabre and monstrous, is very open to the idea, and curious about it, thinking it'd be interesting to try out new recipes. She treats it the same as eating any other animal, and quickly develops favorites. But she's also sad they haven't found too many friendly monsters. She thinks Victor is just interested in monsters like she is.

Favorite monster meal: Jack-o-Lantern Potage and Sautéed Dryad Buds with Cheese

Spike feels kinda sorry for the monster, especially if it didn't attack them right away. But he knows he has no choice; it's a dog-eat-dog world, after all. Especially in the dungeons. And he's gotta eat lots to keep up his strength so he can help the others. But he just would not be able to eat anything he considers 'cute'. As well as anything wolf-like; that just feels like a step too close to cannibalism— both just feel too wrong! He thinks eating things like snakes or dragons is cool as all hell though and is very excited to try it.

Favorite monster meal: Red Dragon Meal

Artemisia has been so sheltered that the concept of eating monsters isn't any more strange to her than anything else she'd encounter in the dungeon, or even on the surface in regular life. Besides, she'd read books about monster cuisine before. She's the only one who doesn't know eating all kinds of monsters isn't common, so has 0 qualms about it. Asks Junia to teach her how to cook.

Favorite monster meal: Boiled Mimic

Lisle hates every single bite and wants to throw up. It disgusts him that he's making such gross, 'unclean' and monsterous— well, monsters, part of him. But since Junia always seems so excited to have him try it, he knows he couldn't turn it down, even on the grounds of 'being a vegetarian due to his compassion for all living beings' (lies, he does not care that much) without making himself seem less kind. So he eats it.

Favorite monster meal: Portable Meal Set for Adventurers (does that even count as a monster meal?)

[sephirthoughts]

Heya got some questions for that ask game. :3

32, 27, 23, 18, for my boy Bellhop. And if you don't want to do him, perhaps for my man Reeve? I want to hear your thoughts. ^.^

OH BOYEEEEEEEE i'm doin both cause no one can stop me

for anyone who doesn't know, @soundcrusher and i have been fixated on the upside-down Bellhop from the Haunted Hotel in Rebirth lately because he's adorable so strap in babes

32. If you could make this character a meal, what would you make them?

astronaut food in those packets they use on the space shuttles so he could eat it upside-down obviously

27. Do you like to ship this character with other characters or do you prefer not to?

i like to think that he's a huge engineering nerd (self taught) and he built the trap door and rigged his rope and pulley system himself, and that he and Reeve Tuesti would connect over tinkering and building gadgets and eventually have an adorably nerdy relationship

23. Has this character permanently altered or impacted your psyche in a way you won’t forget?

yeah i used to not care about the unnamed upside-down bellhop and now i care about him a lot. he's nero's other brother head-canonically to me, which makes him yet another of vincent's children, with hilarious/tragic results

18. Do you prefer to see this character suffer or know peace? Angst or comfort? Both?

I JUST WANT HIM TO BE HAPPYILY CREEPING PEOPLE OUT FOREVER

32. If you could make this character a meal, what would you make them?

i feel like Reeve is in serious need of some comfort food, so: congee, scallion pancakes, steamed bao, dumplings, sichuan fried fish with chili oil, and golden-fried mantou with condensed milk for dessert. that'd put him in a food coma for several days

27. Do you like to ship this character with other characters or do you prefer not to?

i have a lot of Reeve ships because he's sexy af but also he's technically just Some Guy in a world full of superhumans, but he's also hyper-intelligent and super wealthy so it's like he has his own set of superpowers anyway, so he can actually hang. i like reeve/vincent, reeve/cloud, reeve/bellhop, reeve/rufus, reeve/tifa, reeve/tseng, reeve/cid, etc. etc.

23. Has this character permanently altered or impacted your psyche in a way you won’t forget?

reeve reminded me that guys with beards don't have to be burly warrior types, they can also wear suits and look sexy as hell

18. Do you prefer to see this character suffer or know peace? Angst or comfort? Both?

I ALSO JUST WANT REEVE TO BE HAPPY WITH HIS MANY ROBOTS AND SOMEONE WHO WILL BE NICE TO HIM

[someonelol1872]

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆𝐈𝐬𝐚𝐚𝐜, "𝐑𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐌𝐲 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞"⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ 𝕯𝖆𝖞𝖘 𝖘𝖊𝖊𝖒 𝖘𝖔𝖒𝖊𝖙𝖎𝖒𝖊𝖘 𝖆𝖘 𝖎𝖋 𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖞'𝖑𝖑 𝖓𝖊𝖛𝖊𝖗 𝖊𝖓𝖉, 𝕾𝖚𝖓 𝖉𝖎𝖌𝖘 𝖎𝖙𝖘 𝖍𝖊𝖊𝖑𝖘 𝖙𝖔 𝖙𝖆𝖚𝖓𝖙 𝖞𝖔𝖚, 𝕭𝖚𝖙 𝖆𝖋𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖘𝖚𝖓𝖑𝖎𝖙 𝖉𝖆𝖞𝖘, 𝖔𝖓𝖊 𝖙𝖍𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖘𝖙𝖆𝖞𝖘 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖘𝖆𝖒𝖊, 𝕽𝖎𝖘𝖊𝖘 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖒𝖔𝖔𝖓 -Rises the Moon, Liana Flores

Isaac had been working tirelessly for days, his office a refuge of relentless dedication. His ebony hair was disheveled, and the dark circles under his deep brown eyes were a stark testament to his exhaustion. His normally sharp features looked gaunt and pale, with worry lines etched deeply into his forehead. Today, his body had finally given in to exhaustion and illness. You noticed the change immediately as you entered the room, your heart aching to see him in such a state.

"Isaac, you need to rest," you said softly, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. The warmth of your touch was a stark contrast to the cold rigidity of his posture.

He shook his head, barely glancing up from his work. "I can't, Pickle. There's too much to do," he murmured, his voice strained.

Your concern deepened. You carefully pulled the papers from his hands, feeling the tension in his muscles as he reluctantly let go. "You won't be able to do anything if you don't take care of yourself," you chided gently, but with a firmness that left no room for argument.

Isaac, too weak to resist, allowed you to lead him. Each step felt like a monumental effort, his legs heavy and unsteady. You guided him to his bedroom of dark wood and soft, warm colors, the faint scent of lavender lingering in the air. You tucked him into his bed, pulling the thick, quilted covers up to his chin. The warmth of the blankets enveloped him, a stark contrast to the chill that had settled into his bones. He closed his eyes, already feeling a bit better under your care.

You hurried to the kitchen, determined to make him something nourishing. The kitchen was cozy and quiet, filled with the soft morning light filtering through the windows. You prepared his favorite gyoza, your hands deftly folding the dumplings with care. The soup simmered on the stove, a fragrant blend of chicken broth, ginger, scallions, garlic, and soy sauce filled the house, bringing a small smile to Isaac's lips even from the bedroom. You poured the steaming miso soup into a bowl, adding a dose of medicine to help with his fever.

Returning to his side with a tray, you sat on the edge of the bed. "Here, Isaac. You need to eat something," you said softly, offering him a piece of gyoza.

Isaac tried to protest, feeling too weak and embarrassed to be taken care of like this. "P-Pickle, you don't have to do all this," he murmured, his voice hoarse and his brown eyes glazed with fever.

But your gentle persistence won out. You fed him by hand, your touch tender and loving. "One more bite? For me?" you coaxed with a smile, your eyes full of concern and affection.

Reluctantly, Isaac opened his mouth for another bite, the warmth of the food bringing some color back to his cheeks. Despite his initial embarrassment, he found comfort in your presence, in the way you cared for him so devotedly. "Thank you," he whispered, feeling a swell of gratitude and affection for you.

After finishing the meal, you set the tray aside and sat beside him, stroking his hair with a soothing rhythm. Your touch was gentle, fingers threading through his ebony locks. "Just rest now," you whispered, your voice a balm to his weary soul. You leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on his forehead, your lips cool yet soft against his fevered skin.

Isaac's eyes grew heavy, lulled by your tender care and the warmth of your touch. "You're too good to me," he mumbled, a faint smile on his lips as he looked at you through half-closed eyes.

You smiled back, your fingers continuing their soothing motion through his hair. "You deserve it, Isaac. Now sleep," you said softly, your voice filled with love and reassurance.

As he drifted off to sleep, Isaac felt a profound sense of peace and contentment. In your care, he felt safe, cherished, and deeply loved. He realized how much he depended on you, not just for moments like these, but for the happiness and light you brought into his life. As he slipped into slumber, he knew he would do anything to keep you by his side. ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ ┈ ✁✃✁✃✁✃✁✃✁ ✁✃✁✃✁✃✁✃✁ ┈

[lumosinlove]

Christmas Eve Will Find Me

Two: Finn

Finn and Logan’s Flat

London, England

They had emergency measures in place. Logan had sat him down one night. Finn had been in this exact chair. Whiskey in the glasses Logan had brought him back from Ireland. Beautiful crystal carved things with diamond-shaped clovers. Finn didn’t know why he had been in Ireland that time—or any other time—and he never would. Now that set of four haunted Finn’s liquor cabinet.

“No one will know,” Logan had said. “No one but us. If you need me—need me to know something, you call here, and if I need you to know something, I will, too.”

On Finn’s side of it, he had a phone number. Just four digits. He didn’t know how it worked or how Logan had set it up. He purchased a burner phone with cash—never at the same store—and dialed the number. No one ever answered. He left a message. He’d driven two hours before to get to far away corner stores. Just in case something might give Logan away. It was hard to be careful when he didn’t know what he was dealing with.

The burner phones now haunted his bedside drawer.

Finn had sent it maybe twenty messages since it happened. Make that fifty. He didn’t know how Logan got them—or how he used to get them. He didn’t know if it was accessible by computer or a cellphone somehow. He’d only really used it once, with a response, when he’d gone into the hospital with a bad concussion after falling stupidly on a patch of ice. Logan, somehow, had gotten to him in less than a nine hours. Finn had been expecting it to take a day or two at least. Logan had arrived with a neat beard, fuller than Finn had ever seen it, and brown contact lenses in for some reason, but it was Logan. He’d taken the contacts out in the hospital bathroom and flushed them down the toilet before the very surprised nurse had come in to check on Finn and found him with a visitor.

Fingers through his hair. Logan kissing his temple—God, how was he losing that feeling? That was his favorite feeling. Mon Rouge…be careful. You have to be careful. Finn remembered smiling sleepily. But that’s what I’m always telling you.

Alive. He knew there should be a maybe somewhere in there but his brain wouldn’t add it. You’re alive.

Someone was letting themselves in. Key scraping in the door and footsteps Finn knew well. Leo took his coat off in the hall and paused long enough so that Finn knew he was reading the notes in the halls—even though he’d read them a thousand times before. Framed, creases and all. They were, what, nine years old now? A decade seemed so long, until it was cut short. Leo liked to read his and Logan’s love confessions to each other from when they were at school together.

“Chicken and dumplings,” Leo said from behind him. He put one container in the fridge and Finn couldn’t bring himself to turn around. The microwave went and what felt like seconds later, he had a steaming bowl in front of him.

Leo eased himself into a chair and, finally Finn looked up.

“So, they told you,” Leo said. His eyes were calm, but his face held worry.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because it was Remus,” Leo said immediately. “And I would never let you get your hopes up and then…” Leo pressed his lips together. “But I’m glad Sirius and James did.”

“You found the footage?”

“Yes.”

“And…And you’ve been looking?”

Leo nodded.

Finn pushed a spoon around the bowl, watching it sink into the thick broth. “Why?” It sounded crass but Finn might’ve driven himself mad if he had the capability to never stop looking for Logan. Instead, he was in a dark sea, unable to even know quite what had gone so wrong. So very wrong.

“Because I loved them, too. Or, love. God, who knows what to say.”

Finn nodded. Of course. Of course. He put his hand around Logan’s necklace.

“Make sure you eat that,” Leo said softly. He ducked his head a little until Finn looked at him. “Are you going to be okay here tonight?” Leo whispered. “Alone?”

Alone.

Sometimes Leo stayed. Sometimes, Finn didn’t know what he’d do with an empty bed every night and so sometimes Leo stayed. Just the weight of another person—but sometimes it tricked Finn. Sometimes he reached out and thought—and thought. Wrap his arm around Leo’s waist or, God, even worse, tuck his nose up against Leo’s neck. Finn felt so bad about it he could cry. But then there was Leo’s blue eyes, sorry and wishing he could take the pain away. They would both apologize, maybe squeeze hands, and roll over.

“I’ll be okay.” Finn really needed to be alone. He needed no one to know about his little phone habit. Not even Leo.

The second Leo was out the door, Finn covered his face with his hands and dug up the burner phone package from his desk drawer. He’d broken the rules, he’d gone four blocks over to a store he’d been to before but not for a long time. But he needed it. He needed the connection, no matter how broken it might be. He cut through the plastic with the blur of tears in his eyes. He assembled it, watched the green light of the screen blink to life. He punched in the familiar numbers. 1017.

It rang, tinny and lazy. Then, the familiar beep.

Finn’s mouth went dry. He’d always been able to say anything to Logan. Everything.

“Logan,” he whispered. “Lo, are…” He squeezed his eyes shut. He covered his face with his palm. “Are you alive?”

He always expected an answer. Breathing on the other end of the line. Maybe it was just the nature of holding a phone up to his ear. Reflex and expectation. Lately, Finn talked into the burner like Logan was there. Some horrible way of coping, he’d guess any doctor would say. Phone calls to a ghost, how fucking dramatic was that?

“It’s almost Christmas, you know,” Finn said. He traced a crumb around the table with his thumb. Who knew what it was from. “I’m supposed to go to New York. See Alex and…and everyone. Well, Jesus, not everyone. Not you.”

Finn didn’t realized his eyes had closed until he thought he’d been quiet for too long. He checked. Nearly twenty seconds had passed.

“It does feel cold enough to snow,” Finn said. “My classes are almost out. I think no one’s going to be there on Wednesday. I don’t even want to be there myself. Martha—you remember Martha? She…” Finn swallowed. “She asked about you the other day. She wanted to know if we were doing anything special.” Finn felt his lip tremble, let his eyes fill up. “Like—Fuck, like going to the beach or something.” His voice was pitching up in the way it did when he was trying not to cry. “And I thought about Spain.”

It had seemed like Logan hardly even had to look at people to get what he wanted. Those green eyes of his. That soft, nearly bashful smile. He’d been wearing what looked like a very expensive suit when he'd met Finn in the tarmac.

“Finn. Rouge.” Logan had kissed him so hard. Finn could feel the way Logan’s palm had curled them into each other. Logan had had a cut just above his lip. “I missed you. I missed you.”

Finn had clung to him, then laughed and looked him up and down. Linen shirt, open at the collar, fine-threaded tan jacket. So gorgeous. A little banged up maybe, but nothing serious. The barely there bump of his gun at his side, unreadable if Finn hadn’t felt it with how close Logan was holding him. What are we doing here? You can’t come home yet?

Oh, mon rouge. We are doing absolutely nothing, Logan had smiled, and taken Finn’s bags from him.

It hadn’t felt like nothing. It had felt like breakfasts of fruits and pastries. Watching Logan’s skin turn golden as they lay by the pool. Long nights of rocking into Logan’s body, pinning his hands up above his head in the way he liked and trying not to blush every time they came back to find their sheets changed and freshened. Running his fingers through Logan’s hair. Logan’s head on his chest, listening to Finn read aloud. Walking through small towns with curving, winding streets to get lost in. Buying a very expensive bottle of wine and drinking by the water. Kissing the flavor of Logan’s fig ice cream right out of his mouth. He was summer.

Now, Finn put his head into his hands and pressed the phone harder to his cheek. He could still feel him. Finn saw him everywhere.

“Remus is alive. Are you with him?” Finn let out a breath that was more a sob. He pressed a hand over his mouth. “Are you there? Because if you are, please—please come home. Come home.”

But no. If Logan could come home, he would have. No. He would have by now. Finn stood up so fast that the chair wobbled on its rear legs. No, no, no—

“No. I’m gonna come find you.” Finn knew he was probably breathing so heavy, crying too much maybe to even be understood. He sniffed and took a breath and said it again. “I’m going to come find you, baby, don’t worry. I’ve got you. Always, remember? I’ve got you. Yeah.” Finn wiped at his face with the sleeve of his sweater. One of Logan’s go-bags—a back up—was in the closet in the box with the spare sheets. “I’ve got you.”

“No,” Sirius said.

Finn’s ass was half frozen from sitting on his stoop, and he stumbled a little when he got up. “I’m coming with you.”

Sirius didn’t move. He just looked Finn over with those gray, unreadable eyes. For Finn, after the accident, it had been like losing friends, only without a fall-out or a fight. Finn was no longer privy to Sirius and James’ lifestyle. The connection was gone. He was exhausted. He missed Logan so badly that he wondered if he would die some nights, throwing on shoes and a scarf to do something, to go somewhere, because surely something was wrong in his chest for it to hurt this bad. Lily had come around sometimes, even James, but their faces had only hurt him. He’d thrown himself into his classes but without caring about them.

The only person left was Leo, knowing Finn was hopeless in the kitchen except for the occasional basic. But he was more than that. He was Logan’s closest friend on his squad. Maybe even Finn’s closest friend, too. They spent their evenings with Leo more often than not, and at first Finn had thought it was sort of like a rookie thing—Leo was a bit younger than them—and Logan thought he was lonely, but then he’d gotten to know Leo. When it wasn’t Finn and Logan, it was the three of them.

Sirius didn’t look the same. But Remus hadn’t exactly been his boyfriend. At least, Logan hadn’t thought so. He’d only been trying to get one of them to take the first step towards something more. But that was still something to be taken away.

“Jesus, Finn.” Sirius said. He shook his head and rubbed at his eyes. “Finn. God. Maybe we shouldn’t have told you.”

“No.” He sounded childish, desperate. “Sirius, please. Please, I can’t do this. I can do—” He looked around him, but he wasn’t sure what for. “Life. World. Normal. Whatever you want to call it. I can’t do it without him and now I can’t do the waiting for him. Not alone. Please.”

“No.” Sirius pushed around him, keys jingling gently. Finn heard them scratch at the door. Smelled the fish and chips he was holding. A few doors down, carolers were singing.

“I’ve been swallowed whole by losing him,” Finn said softly.

Sirius stopped, one foot on the step above the other. A wind picked up, all sudden and rough, like it knew the air couldn’t be too still between them. If it was, it would solidify and they’d never get through this. Finn would never move again, not until Logan touched the back of his neck, his cheek, and brought him back to life. I’m right here.

“I mean…” Finn looked down. “Losing him. Dead. Gone.” His voice caught and he had to breathe through it. “If he’s not then—Sirius.”

Sirius’ back was tense. His jacket looked too thin for the weather and he wasn’t wearing a hat or a scarf. Finn watched his shoulders rise and fall. Finn looked one way down the street—carolers—then the other. He always did this. Imagined Logan was somewhere near by, half in shadow, watching him. Not dead.

Sirius’ dinner crinkled in his hand as he turned around.

“It’s not all luxury and glitz.” Sirius narrowed his eyes a little, wary. “I know that’s the part Logan treats you to, but it’s not.”

“Okay.”

“You gonna be fine with that?”

“Yes.”

“Maybe we have to camp out on the roof of a building.”

Finn tried to hide his wince. “Okay.”

“All night.”

Finn grit his teeth. “I’ll do anything.”

“No food.”

“Will it help us find him?” Finn swallowed. “I mean them. Remus and Logan.”

“Maybe,” Sirius said. “Or just Remus. Logan might really be dead.”

Finn closed his eyes. That word. That word.

“Are you prepared for that?”

“No,” he said. “That doesn’t mean I don’t want to know. That doesn’t mean I don’t want…I don’t know, his—his body.” But did he? Did he want to see that? It haunted him. Real, and true haunting. One second he’d see Logan’s smile and the next some horrible, gray version of his face.

“Most likely there won’t be a body. And if there was one, it would be…remains. Finn, it’s been months.”

“Then a confession. I don’t know. I just want—”

“I know what you want,” Sirius said. “I want it, too.”

“I have to come,” Finn pleaded. He took a step forward. “Sirius.”

Sirius took a step forward, too, meeting him on the steps. “These people we were dealing with when it happened—you cannot hope to understand them. They’re deranged. Worse than that, they’re wealthy and deranged, and we don’t know very much about them. We know they control a large blackmarket network and they’re only getting more powerful. We know they deal in weapons, and we know they have sleeper agents everywhere. Finn, you can’t trust anyone, do you understand? They got Logan, but who knows what Logan told you.”

“Are you saying I’m being watched?”

“Of course you are. By us and them.”

Logan never told him much. He let Finn smooth the crease in his brow. He let Finn bring him tea or his sugary, sugary coffee. He let Finn spoon up against his back and told Finn how that made him feel safe—one of the few moments in this world when he wasn’t worried about looking behind him. Logan let him make love to him, fuck all the weight of the world right out of him until he was weightless and slick with sweat and his own come. Let Finn hold his hand while they walked to dinner and home again. But he never told him anything. Not really. A country name here, a surname there. Nothing that meant anything to Finn. Never enough for him to put anything together.

They will never have a reason to need you, Logan would whisper in the dark. I will never give them one.

Who is they? Finn would wonder.

“No one can know you’re with us,” Sirius said. “You have to get your own flights.”

Finn nodded. “Okay, I can do that.”

“We leave tomorrow.”

“Good.”

“Hello there!” came a jolly voice from behind them.

Finn swore he saw Sirius’ mouth say fuck under his breath. Finn turned to see that the cluster of carolers had made it to them.

The man simply grinned at them, before turning and raising his hands in signal.

I’ll be home for Christmas… they began, and Finn turned back around fast, looking up at Sirius.

Sirius held a finger to his lips and, before they were even one verse in, turned and went inside.

You can count on me…

Tomorrow, Finn said. He didn’t even feel guilty about leaving the carolers mid-song. Tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow.

If only in my dreams…

[kingofthe-egirls]

INTROVERT: LUFFY x OC

(cw: food mention, eating, est relationship, reader is a devil fruit user)

(a/n: basically im an anti-touchy introvert sometimes)

Songs: "Supercut" by Lorde

words: 805

'cause in my head, in my head I do everything right

when you call, when you call i'll forgive and not fight

because ours are the moments i play in the dark

we were wild and fluorescent

come home to my heart

****

Love isn't so bad after all, you think.

You're watching Luffy jump around the deck, chasing Chopper and Usopp in another game of tag. You'd join in, but you've already run twenty laps around the Sunny, and now you have a stitch in your side.

You huff, hand on your hip, trying to puff out air on the opposite step as your stitch, slowly pacing around next to the citrus trees. Nami takes such good care of these, you think, seeing the soft, tended grass around the tree roots. A few ladybugs hum through the air: bugs allowed as aphid-devourers. No stowaway pests allowed.

"Nami!" You say, seeing her standing among the trees. She ducks around a branch, harvesting a few ripe tangerines. She smiles, and tosses one your way. You portal it to your hand: a small oval circle opening in space and time, halfway through the tangerine's arc.

It lands in your palm with a satisfying thump, dropping out of the horizontal portal you'd opened above your hand. Flicks of blue sparks hover, suspended in midair, before you close the portals shut.

"Nice," Nami compliments, surveying your devil fruit usage. She rips open a tangerine, swiftly peeling it with expert strokes. You watch her long fingers deftly separate the slices. She pops one into her strawberry mouth. You stick your thumb under the skin of your own citrus fruit, feeling the fizz of the juice spurt into the air.

"Food!!!" Luffy gasps, suddenly by your side.

"Ah!!" You scream, still not used to Luffy's little jump scares. He giggles, swiping your tangerine before you have time to react.

"Sorry, kitty," he grins, chewing next to your ear with a loud, open mouth. You glare at him, marching over to Nami to grab an extra tangerine replacement. He crinkles his nose at you, smiling at you with eyes like crescent moons. You roll your eyes.

He's lucky he's cute.

"You owe me," you tell him, letting Nami peel your tangerine for you. He slumps over in defeat, waddling toward you with his arms hanging loosely in front of him. He whines.

"Aww, c'mon, kitty! Ya let me share your food all the time," he headbutts your chest. He looks up at you with puppy dog eyes. He slowly lifts his hand to try and swipe your new tangerine, but you swat it away. He grumbles, rubbing his knuckles, but steps away.

"You're an animal," you tell him, and turn to huffily walk back to your cabin.

****

Luffy creaks open the door to your room.

"I brought ya a dumpling," he stage-whispers, his voice carrying across the moonlight room as he steps across the wooden slats. He has a plate in his hands, the smells of sweet pork and barbecue flooding your senses. You smile, breathing in the scent with your eyes closed. Your bed folds under Luffy's weight as he sits on the side.

The light pouring in from the porthole on the west side of your room silvers Luffy's shoulders. He's shirtless, in nothing but his lightweight red shorts, and his sandals. You push at his feet, trying to get his dirty shoes off your bed. He snickers, but he moves. He stretches out a gum-gum hand to plop a warm, steamed dumpling into your mouth. "Mmmn," you moan, eyes fluttering shut.

"Like it?" Luffy bumps your shoulder, thumbing at your cheek. You wriggle out from under his grasp, needing room.

"'Lone time, Luffy," you complain, slurping at the excess juice that runs down your fingertips. Luffy whines, leaning his weight against you. You shove him off you. "Mean it, Lu!"

"Vasya," he narrows his eyes, feeding you another dumpling. There's six more on the plate. He groans, frustrated. "What's wrong?"

"I just--," you huff, crossing your arms as you chew, "I'm used to being on my own, Luffy, remember? Raised by wolves?"

Luffy snickers, "So cool."

"Sometimes," you agree, taking a dumpling and feeding it to your darling captain-lover. He chews, humming happily at the savory taste. His feet tap together like a monkey's.

"Not used to so many people around," you stumble through your words, trying to find the right ones. You shift, your cotton shorts brushing over the skin of your thighs. Luffy's warm hand shortly follows suit. He squeezes your leg, and feeds you more food.

"Need alone time, kitty?"

You nod. He hesitates.

"Even from me?"

"Mhmm," you twist your lips, "M'sorry."

Luffy sighs, stepping up from the bed.

"Hmmm, okay! Can we play tomorrow though?" He stretches his arms over his head, empty plate in hand.

"Probably," you say, sleep heavy on your eyelids. Now that your belly's full, your body wants to sleep. "No more tag, though..."

You trail off, weight already settling back into your pillows.

Luffy quietly closes the door behind him.

[furymint]

FFXIV Write 2024 | header | wc: 465

Brave set a steaming pot down in the gathering's center. Sweat trickled down the black iron from the heat, and it ran to stain droplets into the raw wood table. She stretched her arms to shake off the strain, then something popped in her back. Arcian was the first to commiserate an apology.

The other Bells around the table gave their thanks instead. Few of them had the energy to do more than wait in the Alliance commons while Brave ducked into the mess galley to find something to settle them with.

Not one of them was a soldier—as they so often were reminded—but that did not entitle them to any civilian comfort. If they wanted to eat, they'd need to feed themselves.

Usually there was food ready for them in Castrum Oriens, but a disrupted supply meant even the Adders went without full meals this sennight. "Disrupted" was no kind substitute for the truth: a massacre followed by an inferno, so the pack chocobos' feathers raised a stench that harassed the Eorzean front for malms.

Brave explained with a laugh that the meal before them was scraped together with the only three ingredients she could find: flour, chicken, and water.

"Water," Elliot declared, "is not an ingredient."

Haru smacked him on the arm. "Just shut your mouth."

"I mean... Maybe?" Norhi tilted her head.

Brave pinned him with a dead look. "I boiled the bones into a stock, so yes. Water. With chicken dumplings."

"And no seasonings?" asked Elliot.

"Can we please just forget him?" blurted Arcian.

Wyda grinned. "Does the fire to boil it count too?" 

At this point, Brave dunked a ladle into the pot and served herself a bowl. "Look. I'm too hungry to care about the philosophy behind my soup. Have it or don't."

"Don't—I mean, wait!" Elliot stumbled to his feet, whipped his legs free of the bench, and flew out of the mess hall.

Yumi started a silent count with her fingers until he returned. Forty-four seconds. "I never thought he could run that fast."

Elliot leaned one arm into the table, panting, and smacked a wax paper puck to the table with his free hand. "A tea cake," he proclaimed.

Wyda pointed her spoon at him. "Drinking tea and eating supper at the same time—that's way too efficient for you, Carambole."

"But it's flavor!" he protested.

For the first time, the room considered what he said. The doubtful sat beside those who had nothing left to lose.

Brave shook the wax paper from the tea cake and lofted it for inspection. "...Does anyone hate the idea?" she asked.

No one protested.

"All right, Elliot—you win. Three ingredients." Brave tipped her bowl back in the pot and crushed the teacake over the sorry stew.

[bleachbleachbleach]

Happy biiiiirthdaaaaay Hitsugayaaaa お誕生日おめでとう！

Would you like to start your day with tea with your vice-captain:

Presented here in my cup that in 2020 was re-christened "the Hitsugaya cup <3" and will likely remain so forevermore, and in a duck cup my co-blogger gave to me this year, and which I immediately put into fanfic as "Matsumoto's weird cup" because I absolutely love it. I would excerpt the scene, but it turns out Hinamori's thoughts about the cup are interspersed within a lot of other stuff, so just know that it's Matsumoto's Weird Duck Cup.

For lunch, can I interest you in some oyaki??

Oyaki are a regional food from Nagano, which is an interior mountain region in Japan, a few hours west of Tokyo. I've been there exactly once, but I absolutely loved it, because MOUNTAINS and SUBARU COUNTRY:

Because of this+its westerly general location+Hitsugaya and Hinamori's names I model my version of Junrinan off of it (though the main village we see is in the flatlands, not the mountains themselves). I also HC that Isshin sent Hitsugaya off to Actual Nagano for his Gotei hazing/30-day walkabout in the Living World, because he knew it would feel similar to Junrinan.

Oyaki are dumplings, traditionally cooked with irori, or those traditional square stove pits you see in the middle of people's houses in old-timey anime. I do not have one of those so I made mine the way you'd make any other dumpling, in a frying pan on a stove, frying first and then steaming. You can freeze them to re-steam later, which is what I did this weekend. These ones have miso eggplant and bamboo shoot in them, because that's what I had, though the only oyaki I have written into fanfic have pickled mustard greens in them.

I would excerpt that, but Hitsugaya is not actually in most of that scene, doesn't say a single thing when he is, and the narrating POV (Kensei) doesn't care about him. So I will instead say that in the scene, the gang is making oyaki at Matsumoto's direction, because she's a well-traveled No Reservations type who's familiar with Junrinan cooking. It's an intentional choice and an act of care, and even if no one else in the scene knows it, least of all the narrator, Hitsugaya does.

And to round out the day, an afternoon potato snack?

Yaki imo aren't particularly Hitsugaya-related, I suppose, except that it's a fall/winter thing and his birthday is just before the winter solstice, and right at that turning point. And I did write him and Orihime eating potatoes together once. *I* associate them with walking around in the woods when it's cold as shit, which in my mind is Just Junrinan Things.

So I went for a celebratory birthday potato walk on Sunday! And got lost in the woods for a while. I say this as though I didn't have an Avenza map the entire time, but the trails are often less-trail like than 'there are blazes on trees sometimes' and it took a while to re-find the blazes in the dark. I had a second emergency potato with me should I have needed it, though!

[brainyxbat]

Chopper's Kingdom On the Island of Strange Animals - Pt. 1

After their hot adventure on Alabasta, the crew was looking over a new map. "The island of the King's treasure?" Zoro asked.

"Yes," Nami replied, "It's called Crown Island."

"Nami-san, you are the best," Sanji praised through some cooking.

"The treasure must be magnificent!" Usopp cheered, as he tinkered.

"You're sounding like Nami there," Venus giggled while watching him, not noticing the navigator's unamused look towards her.

"Let's go already!" Luffy beamed. "I'm pumped!"

"Let's not," Chopper, the newest crewmember, chimed in, and everyone turned to him in surprise.

"Why not, Chopper?" Zoro pumped a pair of dumbbells.

"We can't just leave treasure, and not steal it," Nami added.

"But there'll be pirates there!" Chopper exclaimed.

"You're one too," Usopp pointed out.

"Ah! I forgot..."

"Hey..."

"But what if you get really hurt?"

"That's what we have you for," Usopp walked around him, and proudly held his hand out in his direction.

"Yeah, but..."

"You worry about stupid things. Worry about the monsters!"

"Monsters?" Chopper's eyes widened at that.

"Vampire penguins, and man-eating clams!" Usopp held his arms out like Frankenstein's monster. "Violent fried octopi, and carnivorous dumplings!"

"Yeah, right," Nami muttered.

"Don't scare him!" Venus scolded the sniper. "But if we do find a vampire penguin, can I keep it?"

"No!" Nami snapped.

Chopper quickly backed up, before bumping into Luffy. "Oh, sorry-"

"A monster!" He screamed at his crude drawing.

"Hey, I'm not a monster!"

"You're too scared," Zoro reprimanded, "You need to fight with us."

"I fight bravely, if I really have to!" He retorted. "Remember Mr. 4, and Ms. Merry Christmas?!"

"Just don't run away when it counts," Sanji advised, as he served Nami and Venus their meals.

"I'm a pirate now," Chopper glared, "I won't run away!"

Just then, out of nowhere, they felt a huge rumbling, which rocked the Merry. "What's going on?" Usopp and Chopper panicked, hopping back and forth.

Everyone rushed outside, and there was a trail of geysers bursting out of the ocean. "Land ahoy!" Luffy reported. When the trail headed straight for them, Zoro jumped back in shock, bumping into Sanji, before they were launched straight into the sky. Nami gripped the railing, as Venus and Usopp tumbled along the deck, and Sanji stayed on the stairs.

Luffy held onto the tangerine trees, and grabbed Usopp and Venus when their grips loosened. "Underwater volcanoes!" Zoro exclaimed, the three bouncing back and forth with Luffy's rubber arm.

Just then, the geyser disintegrated into steam. "Look there!" Nami pointed.

"It's forming a circle!" Zoro gawked at the steam rocketing all around the island.

"A circle?" Luffy jumped in to see for himself.

"Is that...?" Usopp watched from the rope ladder, "Is that...?"

"Doesn't it look like...?" Venus pointed out, but trailed off, just above him.

"Yes," Nami now had an excited glint in her eyes, "I'm sure of it."

"It's Crown Island!" Luffy cheered. From the sky, they saw that it was a lush green with plentiful foliage, a reddish mountain, and a waterfall behind a rainbow. "Woohoo! What a nice looking island!"

"Sorry to spoil your fun," Zoro cut in, and on cue, they began falling straight down!

"Chopper!" Venus screamed when the reindeer flew away, bumping into the crow's nest, and ripping the flag off in an attempt to stay put.

"Chopper!" Luffy stretched his arm out to grab him, but he was too far away, before the Merry crash-landed on the ocean, knocking everyone out.

"Hey, everyone all right?" Zoro asked around after it was calm again.

"I think I'm dead," Usopp groaned from the rope ladder, upside down.

"In that case, so am I," Venus agreed groggily, slumped over above him.

Sanji blinked deliriously, before perking up. "Oh, Nami-san... I've died, and gone to heaven." His head had landed cozily in her lap, while she was in a short, white dress.

"Get off me!" She punched him away.

"You're cute when you're angry!"

"You there." Luffy and Zoro turned around at the strange, gravelly voice. They turned to see a large, green bird with a bald head perched on a hippo with dark red fur, and a gold nose ring in the center. Next to him was what appeared to a ram. "What do you want here?" Sanji plopped down in the sand in front of them.

"W-what?" Usopp stammered, "The bird talks?"

"It's a parrot," Zoro pointed out, "Parrots speak."

"Not on its own like that!" Nami exclaimed.

"Human tongue is no problem for me. But I have to admit, only I and Raventi can talk like this."

An ecstatic Luffy jumped down, and sprinted up to him. "Wow! This island is so cool!"

"Who are you?"

"Hey, have you seen Chopper?"

"Chopper?"

-

Elsewhere, there was a tree with an open trunk on the side of the mountain, with a trail occupied by a line of strange animals. The tree occupied the deceased body of a lion-qilin hybrid creature with large, golden horns, and an orange mane. Before him, stood a human boy in a loincloth, and a small, dark blue bird with round eyeglasses, and red and yellow feathers on his head. "Chimerion..." The boy muttered sadly.

"Mombambi," The bird turned to him, "Our king has fulfilled his duty, and died. You can't mourn forever."

"I know, Raventi."

As they walked out, an elephant with a short horse's mane, and ring-like ears rung a huge shell with a log. "When the crown envelopes the isle, heaven shall give us new blood."

"But is that really true? Will we really get a new king?"

"I think so. The elders have always said so."

"An animal king from heaven? There's no way."

On cue, at where the other animals were gathered, a small reindeer in a black cape came tumbling down, and landed butt-down on the sharp rock. "Kiiiiiiiiii-!" He screamed out, taking on a large, muscular build.

"It's saying "king"!" Mombambi exclaimed, after running over with Raventi.

"From the heavens!"

"Kiiiiiiiiii-!" He screamed again, before collapsing, turning small again, and stumbling on his hind hooves.

He opened his eyes to see the animals dancing around him in celebration. "The animal king! It's our king!"

"Animal... king?" He almost whispered, utterly confused, and glanced around. "King? Where?"

"Amazing!" Mombambi gushed. "He can speak human tongue!"

"Are you the animal king?"

"Stop joking! You're the king of all!"

Raventi approached him, as Mombambi danced with joy. "The legend was true! It's our new king!"

"King?" Chopper gawked. "I'm the animal king?!"

[purble-turble]

Anon who write the dark shadowlionpeach ficlet. Got more inspired so I did a part two/second oneshot and even took the time to edit it for more then two seconds, hope it’s not too annoyingly long!

Azure Lion liked to think dinner was going pretty well.

The food was hot, fresh steam wafting off of the soup. The dumplings looked delicious, if untouched. The silence was deafening, but Azure Lion figured that just meant it was peaceful.

Yellow Tusk Elephant was politely drinking his liquor while avoiding eye contact with everyone in the room. Golden Wing Peng was actively staring at everyone in the room, his head visibly swiveling around to eye down his chosen target. Demon Bull King was looking at his plate like it might bite him. Macaque was slumped back in his chair like he didn’t have a care in the world.

“Okay, so are we just… not going to mention the giant ass elephant in the room!?” Peng finally snapped, slamming his hand down on the table. Yellow Tusk winced.

“Well, I mean we could,” Macaque started as a grin threatened to tear his face. “But I think it’s uncalled for. Yellow Tusk hasn’t done anything.”

“You know damn well that’s not what I meant!” Peng squawked as he pointed at Macaque, face red despite his sobriety.

“Brothers, please.” Azure Lion cut in, holding his hands up in a desperate bid for peace. “We invited everyone over hoping to have a nice meal. Life has been trying, and it has been so long since we could come together again like we used to.”

“Oh yes, we’ve all just been so busy, what with our personal lives getting in the way of these little get togethers.” Bull King snorted before sniffing at his drink.

“It couldn’t possibly have anything to do with being trapped in a scroll for hundreds of years!” Peng ground out.

“Brother-“

“And that’s not the elephant in the room either!”

“Again, Yellow Tusk hasn’t done anything-“

“Macaque I swear I will eat you-“

“Brother-”

“No, no you do not get to “brother” your way out of this!” Peng slammed his hands down onto the table, causing a loud snap.

“…I made this table myself.” Azure muttered, staring forlornly at the crack. Macaque snickered at the heartbreak on his face as Yellow Tusk continued not to make eye contact.

“This isn’t normal!” Peng finally howled. “And I’m not just going to sit here like it is!”

“Peng, please-“

“Centuries, Azure! Centuries we sat in that stupid scroll as the world passed us by! And now that we’re finally free, you’re sitting here and playing house with the very traitor who got us trapped there instead of going after the Jade Emperor!”

“He is not a traitor.” Azure explained, trying to maintain his composure. “He has a sickness-“

“He does not!” Peng screeched, tossing his hands around like he didn’t know what to do with them.

“I really, really don’t.” Wukong spoke up from his seat, nestled comfortably between Azure and Macaque.

“Great, now you got him started.” Macaque groaned as he slumped into his seat.

“I have been saying I don’t have a “sickness” since you assholes kidnapped me-“

“Liberated-“

“Kidnapped me from my fucking island!”

“Wukong,” Azure started in a gentle tone, reaching out for his love’s hands. “Flower Fruit Island is not safe for you now! The celestials know where it is; and could have hunted us down easily if we tried to stay there. We needed to go somewhere safe for you to recover.”

“Recover?” Wukong asked, tugging his hands away from the other. Azure felt his heart tremble at the loss. “I don’t need to recover!”

“Oh, Wukong…” Azure whispered as he stared down at the light of his life.

“Thanks, asshole.” Macaque smiled, words like acid. “You couldn’t be a decent person for one goddamn meal. You just had to rile him up!”

“Rile him up?!” Peng sputtered, “I riled him up!?”

“Brother Peng,” Azure Lion sighed, finally looking away from the agitated monkey. “I realize this is difficult for you to understand, but can’t you see how fortunate we all are? We’re together again, Peng. All of us. And we need to try and be a united front so we can fix this before storming any palaces.”

“Oh for fuck’s- there’s nothing to fix!” Wukong snarled, causing a plate to fall as he got up. “We’re only together again because Macaque is an opportunist dick, I’m stuck with you assholes and Bull King is being blackmailed!“

“See?! He just said he isn’t sick! Again!” Peng yelled, pointing at the Monkey King. “Now can you finally just kick him out so we can-“

“Enough!” Azure Lion roared, his fist crushing the table and shattering it fully. The food flew everywhere, wooden splinters lodging into the ceiling and walls. Bull King was covered in soup, Peng was staring at his fist as his mouth clicked shut, and Golden Tusk was finally looking up from his cup, a wooden splinter going through it as his drink ran down his fingers.

The silence was back; but this time he couldn’t pretend it was peaceful.

The happy little illusion was gone.

Azure took a deep, calming breath. His temper rarely got the better of him, but today it had exploded. He looked down to his right.

Sun Wukong was there, hand being gripped by Macaque, tail looped tightly by the other simian.

Sun Wukong was there, close enough to smell, to touch, to hold.

Sun Wukong was there, by his side, where he belonged.

Good.

“I apologize, brothers.” Azure said, trying his best to make sure they knew he meant it. “I didn’t intend for the evening to turn out like this. I simply wished for us all to be united once more, but I can see now I have rushed things too quickly.”

“You’re not the only one at fault, Azure.” Yellow Tusk spoke up for the first time that night, balancing his cup on the shattered remains of the table. “It’s perhaps… a bit early into our reunions for us to host these dinners once more, but. I did enjoy it. Being with all of you again.”

“Oh, Yellow Tusk….” Azure trailed off, smiling softly at his sworn brother.

“I’d like to try again.” Yellow Tusk started to explain, trying for a smile. “After all, how many of our dinners haven’t ended in some sort of destruction?”

“I’d say we’re on a solid eighty-thirty split.” Macaque chimed in as he squeezed Wukong’s arm. “But it is weird this is our first time breaking a table.”

“…I’ll come,” Bull King stated, after taking a glance at Wukong. “For the next dinner.”

“We’ve gotten off topic.” Peng muttered, narrowing his eyes at the two monkeys by Azure’s side. “But, fine. I can admit the idea of up-keeping our old dinner traditions is appealing.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful,” Azure Lion beamed as he tried not to blink his too-misty eyes. “I promise the next dinner will be much better. Though you’ll have to give me an extra week to make a new table.”

(LinebreaksAreSoSexy.IThinkTheyAddCharacter!)

“Welcome home, beloved.” Demon Bull King smiled at his wife as she came to greet him. Her face was schooled into a look of almost-boredom, but the grip of her embrace was tight.

He hated how her arms were trembling.

“You had a good time with the Brotherhood?” She asked carefully, tone somewhat disinterested.

“Relatively,” he explained, voice typically gruff. “But I am starved. The table broke early into the meal and we weren’t able to save all the food. Of course, Wukong hoarded all of the red bean buns for himself.”

“So that’s why your clothes are filthy.” She looked at the stain on his shirt. “You’ll need to change before grabbing something from the kitchens. I don’t want you dropping muck all over the place.”

“I can deliver the clothes for you, father.” Red Son offered as he walked a little too quickly towards the pair. “I need to check on the Bull bots down there anyways.”

“Were you successful?” He doesn’t ask.

“Don’t bother. I’ll leave my clothes by the bedside and have it taken care of on the regular rotation- you should never wear anything you actually like to these things.”

“Of course, father.”

“I don’t want you going out tonight. Focus on maintenance and trying to get something resembling a normal sleep schedule.”

“Father, I’m too old-“

“You live under my roof, you do as I say.” The Demon Bull King demanded, poking his son harshly in the chest and holding it there.

The Demon Bull King slowly lifted his arm back to embrace his wife, his son gripping at where his father had poked him before looking into his hand.

Hair.

“Do I make myself clear?” The Demon Bull King stares him down.

“Can we use this?” He doesn’t ask.

“…Of course, father.” Red Son bows, a grin on his face. And he means it.

“Now off to bed Red Son,” Princess Iron Fan smirks, even as her son’s face screws up at the realization he really is expected to go to bed at a decent hour. It’s not even three yet! “Your father and I will be in the kitchens.”

“Understood, mother.” And this time he sounds as sullen as the age they’re acting like he is.

Still, as the youngest member of the Demon Bull Clan walks off, he can’t help but start grinning again.

Tomorrow, he’d be going to Pigsy’s Noodles.

Oh my gosh do not ever apologize for writing too much, Anon, because this is freakin awesome!!! 🤩🤩🤩

I absolutely love the inclusion of the Bull Fam having to keep their plotting to free Wukong secret, even in their own home, since Macaque can most definitely still hear them and would know if they were up to something~

[larissa-the-scribe]

Terrarium Lights 3.4

Previously on Terrarium Lights: Gail got plot-twisted and now she's trying to do something to help about it. (Next part >>here)

Most of the other customers had already moved on, so the café was largely empty by the time Gail made it in.

Mrs. Mary Seward saw her as she came in, and waved at her.

They knew each other due to the annual festival held at the lighthouse, and because the Sewards had recently started attending Gail's church—though perhaps it was better to say that they were familiar with each other rather than knew each other. They had talked some, and were vaguely filled in on each others' circumstances, but they were little more than pleasant acquaintances who got along well at after-church lunches.

As such, Gail was both surprised and unsurprised that Mrs. Seward came out to serve her personally, instead of the worker that… did not seem to be there at the moment, actually. Odd. They typically made a point to employ some of the youngsters from the surrounding area.

"How are you doing, Mrs. Goffrey?" she said cordially, pulling a pad of paper out of the front of her apron and smiling pleasantly.

"The good Lord made the sun," Gail replied, sitting down at a hopefully private table further in the corner, "and it's shining as it ought. So I reckon I'm doing well. How about yourself?"

"Busy," Mrs. Seward laughed. "We've had to cut down on some of the days we have extra hands about the place, so it's a bit heavier on us. But business is good. Speaking of which, anything I can get you?"

"One coffee, please," Gail said, "black, no sugar. And if you have any fruit pastries, I think that would go with it well."

"Coming right up," Mrs. Seward confirmed, jotting down things on her pad. She whisked herself away to the kitchen, and left Gail to wonder how on Earth she was going to be able to learn what she needed to. Over-thinking was something she took pains to avoid, but at this precise moment it looked more like she hadn’t done any thinking at all. Another prayer, it seemed, would be in order.

Beside her, she noticed that Samuel had made his appearance, materializing through the doorway as if he had just walked in. He waved at her tentatively, then stuck his hands in his pockets.

Gail nodded at one of the other seats at her (admittedly) small table. Inwardly, she wondered how well she'd manage to deal with a sensitive conversation to someone she didn’t know very well, plus an involved spectator that only she could, but well, it would be rude not to invite him. Besides, it would rather cut down on time (and an elaborate game of mailcarrier) if he could just hear what was going on, himself, and not rely on her second-hand summaries.

He hovered near the table but didn't take a seat.

The last customer (presumably belonging to the one remaining gearmount out front) carried their cup and plate to the kitchen counter, and left with a merry jingling of the café bell.

It wasn't long before Mrs. Seward returned with one of her fruit dumplings and a cup of steaming coffee.

"There you go," she said, sliding the plate onto the table. "Made fresh this afternoon."

"Thank you, Mrs. Seward," Gail replied. The smell of warm dough and fruit—mango, she'd guess—mingling with the strong, bitter smell of the coffee struck her stomach with the force of realization: she hadn't brought any extra food, and she was hungry after having walked this far. "It looks delicious."

Mrs. Seward smiled politely. "Thank you."

Gail patted the table, indicating the seat across from her. "Sit, get off your feet a bit. There aren't any other customers here, and if any new ones come in, you'll see them fine."

Mrs. Seward hesitated.

"How about this," Gail said, "I order one more of the dumplings, and you get a snack out of it, too."

Mrs. Seward coughed a surprised laugh. "I couldn't take your money for food for me to eat in my own café."

"Nonsense," Gail retorted. "I couldn't ask you to sit and share your valuable time with me and not reimburse you fairly. We don't get time to talk often, and I haven't had much opportunity for socialization or chatting with Michael gone."

"Well…" Mrs. Seward sighed. "I suppose that's true. And if I need to get up and working, I'll be able to get back on my feet right quick."

"Of course. I wouldn’t dream of keeping you longer that you’d want."

Mrs. Seward’s smile felt less polite and more genuine. "I'll be just a second."

Gail exerted a great deal of self-control and did not scarf down the entirety of the (thankfully large) dumpling before Mrs. Seward got back.

"Ahhhh." Mrs. Seward sank down into the seat opposite, thin cheeks flushed from the warmth of the ovens in the kitchen. "I will admit, sitting down does feel nice."

"You seem to be quite hard at work," Gail agreed. "Why are the part-timers off-duty?"

"We're needing to save a bit more money just now," Mrs. Seward said, slicing into the dumpling neatly.

Gail was already several forkfulls ahead of her. "Oh? Is the lighthouse not doing so well? Repairs of some kind?"

"No, all of that's going well," she said. Now that she was sitting down and eating, her early reticence had dissipated. "Something else happened that is quite a miracle, so I'm very grateful for it, though at this exact moment it's a bit difficult."

"Oh?"

"Well, it's all a bit strange, but a close friend of my son's showed up again after having gone missing for six years, and we've been needing to pay the doctor to be here regular, since he hasn't woken up for the past three or so weeks."

Gail nearly spat out her coffee. Apparently, she had not needed to be concerned about information.

It, belatedly, occurred to Gail that if something big and surprising had happened—such as a young man appearing at the lighthouse one day—she would likely have had more trouble avoiding the topic than not. She bit down onto her fork with enthusiasm and general gratitude.

Wait.

"Your son?"

"You’re familiar with the annual remembrance festival, right?" Mrs. Seward replied, giving her a quizzical look.

"Well, yes," Gail replied. "We've only been attending since a few years ago, but yes. A festival of remembrance for those lost at sea, and for those brought home again, right?"

Mrs. Seward chuckled a bit, taking a delicate bite of her neatly sliced up dumpling. "Well, it actually isn't specified where they were lost. Your son was lost at sea, though, wasn't he?"

"Aye. David."

"We lost our son six years ago, but it was under unknown circumstances. The next year we wanted to give something back to the community that helped us through such a difficult time, so, in honor of him and those around us who we knew who had also suffered losses, we started the festival of remembrance."

"O-oh." Gail found she didn't have much of an answer.

"But, well, we still haven't found our son. We may never." She pushed her fork slowly into the dumpling, contemplating it. "But, again, we never thought we'd find his friend again, either, so there may be hope yet."

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