#I FEEL SO IMPOLITE BUT IM RIGHT!!!!!?

[chickenchirps27]

Y’ALL I WAS FIGHTING FOR MY LIFE DURING THIS GROUP QUIZ I KNOW THIS CHAPTER LIKE THE BACK OF MY HAND AND I DIDNT WANT TO BE LIKE AN “erm ACTUALLYYYYY” type of gall but I WOULD LIKE TO MAINTAIN MY GPA THANKSS BYEE

[dolicekiss]

slight drabble ♡ about will fucking graham because im horny and he's the prettiest man i have ever seen and i think he'll fuck me good under stress

CW; noncon, dominant will, bratty reader, filthy unprotected sex, primal instincts, degrading, hair pulling.

Will Graham had enough on his plate, especially with the constant feeling of being a failure nipping at his core. He didn't need a bratty bitch like you to add more to that beautifully decorated plate, yet here you were. Using your tongue to spew out all sorts of petty things directed towards him.

At times Will would imagine himself grabbing you by your hair and slamming your face right down on the table. Bending you over and fucking some manners into your tight little cunt right there but then he'd inhale a breath of air and let it all go.

Too bad that wasn't going to happen today.

“You fuckin’ piss me off.” Will grunted, taking a step forward.

You smiled in victory. “Yeah? Telling me all that like I care.”

Will ran a hand over his face in frustration, hoping you'd stop. It wasn't like he didn't try to bite back his own quips but he simply couldn't. You were too tempting — he couldn't back out from putting you in your damn place.

“Did no one ever teach you basic manners, you impolite little girl? You're this close to getting it.” Will had taken another step while you stood besides the book shelf, coursing through the files.

Everyone knew Will Graham was a petty bitch but you, you were his fucking competition. They all knew it was either going to be you or him. You both couldn't survive together.

“I'm terrified.” You mocked, an ill mannered giggle slipping.

Something inside him snapped when he heard you let out that fucking sound of ultimate victory. Before you knew it, Will had slammed your head into the book shelf while his body pressed up against you. His hands tangled in your hair.

“What the fuck?" You gasped out, feeling pain blossom in the side of your head. Will didn't care anymore.

These were only the repercussions of your own actions. Will pulled you by your hair towards his wooden table and bent you over it, all while you struggled. Tiny fists punching at his hands.

“Let me go!” You whined, throwing kicks and punches everywhere but Will was stronger. He was rougher as he slammed your frame down on the table once more and held you in place with one singular hand. “Fucking asshole, let me go!”

His other reached to unbuckle his belt and pull out his cock. It took him a few seconds to pull up your tight knee length skirt and slide your panties aside to drive himself into your cunt. You cried out and Will groaned, feeling the wetness of your warm pussy drape him.

“So fucking tight and wet. Do you get wet by talking back to me?” Your tears profusely streamed down in rivulets but he didn't care. Instead he found himself to be enjoying your cries and pleas.

The same fucking bratty bitch who was now stuffed with his fat cock and crying from it.

Will pulled your face up by tugging on your hair, his other hand gripping your hip tightly. His hips snapped at a rough pace inside you and your cunt throbbed from the ache. Will’s cock had stretched your little cunt out like no other.

“Fucking slut. The whole of FBI should know how big of a whore they've hired.” He spat, the sound of his skin smacking against yours reverberating throughout the walls of his office. “Pathetic thing. That mouth runs a lot, doesn't it? How about you use it now, but for something better? How about sucking a cock, my cock once I'm done with your slutty little pussy.”

You could only sob, drool accumulating around your mouth as your mascara streamed down. Feeling his cock drill into your pussy was too much for you, especially when he hadn't even prepared you.

Will growled, his beautiful curls clinging to his forehead due to the perspiration. His blues swallowed by blown out pupils. A predator ravaging its prey. His cock throbbed from the sheer self control he had held onto in your presence.

But not anymore.

“Runnin’ that mouth around only tells me you wanted this. Christ, what a fucking cockslut you truly are.” Letting go of your hip and hair, Will reached over and shoved his fingers into your mouth.

Holding you from behind, he fucked you silly and you felt yourself choke a little from the way he was holding you. By shoving his fingers into your mouth. Saliva and drool covered his fingers but that was the least bit of Will’s concern.

He let out a laugh, feeling himself come near. “Yeah–fuck yeah. I'm gonna cum, I'm gonna cum inside this greedy pussy and then I'll make you walk around with it inside you.”

You were all over the place. Hair strands sticking to your face, fingernails grazing against the wooden table. Scratching the material and your knuckles had gone completely white. This had thrown you off the edge. You disliked Will Graham’s sassy personality but this? You never expected this to happen.

“Oh—oh pretty whore. I'm close, I'm so fuckin’ close—” Will stuttered, letting out whines now as he felt your velvety walls clamp down on him. His balls were hot and ready to pump you full of his cum, so he did. Loads of white erupting inside you as Will’s breathless whines and growls filled up the room.

Your whimpers and cries were drowned down soon when he forcefully clamped his hand around your mouth. He couldn't have you moaning like a bitch in heat for the whole of the agency to hear. Especially when he'd taken you in such a primal, immoral manner.

When Will was done, he pulled his cock out of you and spread apart your ass cheeks with his thumbs. Watching as your gaping hole spurted out white, hot cum. Relishing in the sight of it.

As he stepped back from you and fixed his cock back into his pants, you lost balance due to your wobby legs and fell down to the floor. Will stared at you, broken and abused. Precisely done hair now a total mess with strands sticking out, black smeared around the eyes and spit surrounding your lips.

Tears had stained your flushed cheeks. Your soft cries expressing the assault you'd just faced by the hands of your colleague.

“Talk back to me next time if you wish to get your throat fucked too. Brain dead little whore.”

[teezingsiyeon]

#FUNNYMOMENTS

wooyoung: siyeon is a great older sister

yunho : she takes care of us so well!😅

mingi, in a quiet voice: she bullies us.

siyeon, aggressively shoving the food in her mouth: YO SEONGHWA TRY THIS

seonghwa, visibly worried: . . .

san, in a high pitched voice: ooh look at me! I’m siyeon, I’m the delicate little flower of ateez uwu🎀

siyeon:

san: pls don’t hurt me

wooyoung: I don’t even think that’s cooked nuna

mingi: if we eat that we’ll die

siyeon, aggressively stirring the pan: THEN DONT EAT SHITHEADS ‼️

siyeon: who’s the best older sibling in ateez

jongho, smirking softly: you

siyeon, tearing up: bro…🥹

siyeon: YEAH, THATS RIGHT YEOSANG, BEAT HIS ASS

yeosang, visibly confused: I don’t wanna beat his ass tho

yunho: IM SPIDER MAN PEW PEW!

siyeon: IM THE HULK! HULK SMASH!

hongjoong: im getting angry.

seonghwa: siyeon, we close our legs when we sit, it’s impolite and unladylike

siyeon, spreading them further:

mingi: there’s only one princess in this group💅

siyeon: try me bitch💅

siyeon: it’s okay if you broke the fridge, that could totally happen

hongjoong: okay, but they gotta learn to be careful next time-

siyeon, pushing 99z behind her: don’t listen to him guys

interviewer: how do you feel when you see your members dancing so sexily on stage? doesn’t your heart flutter?

siyeon: I feel bad tbh, I think, “gosh, they must be desperate to make money”😔

[parkerluvsu]

okay wrote a request for chiropractor!art or some type of body worker!art a few nights ago very late and stoned so sorry if it was messy or phrased impolitely. if you would be so kind as to bestow some of your artistic talent upon the proposed concept, i would be very grateful, obviously no pressure or rush. please and thank you!

if you’re open to it, picture art being immediately smitten upon seeing you. you’re a little taken aback by his appearance and charm, but resolve yourself to focus on tending to your long aching body and focusing on pain management and healing to whatever capacity you may achieve.

little do you know, art is growing exponentially enamored. he was initially smitten by the way your eyes met his, your voice when you greeted him, and countless other little wonders about you.

he is the picture of professional, externally. no one needs to know he anticipates your sessions all week. schools himself into not losing his composure over the forced proximity prompted by the setting. he grows obsessed with trying to untangle and pinpoint the layers of your smell when he’s all up in your space. he’s being so normal about pushing up your legs as far back as they can go, slowly gaining more and more ground. he definitely doesn’t think about the ways he can bend and fold you right here right now, or the positions he could use his profession to help you work up to. he doesn’t feel his ethics hanging by a thread every time another lovely sound is pushed out of you. tells you to breath makes intense eye contact while coaching you through breathing in spite of overwhelming pain when addressing a tight spot. tenderly talking to you through any pain. touching every inch of you, to get to the root of any discomfort only, of course. he has immense respect for you, especially considering you’ve been carrying immense pain so gracefully for so long.

he knows he can’t date a patient but that doesn’t mean his mind can’t wander…

wonder what he thinks about… gets up to…

anyhow, thank you for entertaining this ask and full respect however you choose to engage with it or not.

thank you good sir.

holy fuck 😭😭 i mean what can i add to this perfect ask?!?!

im imagining that you didn't exactly know that your chiropractor would be a man.. i mean all your previous ones weren't, so when you walked into the clean, organized office and were met with the most gorgeous man you've ever seen.. yeah, you were a little surprised.

but you tuck those feelings deep down and try to be professional, telling him how it hurts when you raise your arm too high, and how your calves keep cramping no matter what you do. and art listens, nodding his head every once and a while and taking little notes on his clip board. but despite trying to he professional, you can't help but look away when his pretty blue eyes meet yours.

then he gets to work, telling you to lay on your stomach while he digs his thumbs into your leg muscles, and you're fighting the urge to make absolutely embarrassing sounds, but art couldn't even notice that if he wanted to.. he's in his own world, letting his hands massage and bend your legs gently, the soft skin sending him almost into a trance, sometimes interrupted by thoughts of rubbing lotion into other places on your body.. wondering if you're this soft everywhere.. wondering how far he could take this without you noticing his erection in his pants.. but art is a professional.. he wouldn't put his job on the line just to get his dick wet.. but that doesn't stop him from thinking about it..

in the next session you two have together (which art has been not so subtly preening himself for), art works on your shoulders, asking you to sit up while he presses his palms into your shoulder blades, biting his lip when you make a noise of discomfort, torn between wanting to comfort you, and wanting to hear more..

after he books your next appointment, art sends you on your way with his signature sweet smile, before shutting himself in his office and cancelling all of his appointments for the rest of the day.. definitely not because hes rubbing the sweet lotion that he always uses on you at your appointments into his hands.. groaning and spreading his legs in his chair to grant himself better access to shallowly thrust his hips into his hand.. the pink head of his cock peeking out of his fist every once and a while.. when the thought of your noises from earlier that day pop into his head.. arts a goner, shooting white rivulets onto his navy blue work pants.

cleaning himself up, art sends you an email insisting that it would be in his best interests if you would have a session with him 2 times a week.. of course just to help you feel better quicker, not because he needs more inspiration for those lonely nights alone at the office <33

[tanadrin]

Imagine one day a new social trend starts spreading. It’s something unbelievably dumb. Not harmful per de, but truly silly to believe. Let’s say, I dunno, healing crystals start going mainstream. Everybody’s talking about their crystals. It becomes impolite to criticize people who believe in healing crystals. They become a big part of people’s personalities, and people on TV start talking about them, and one day years down the line politicians are debating funding for crystal-based medicine. And through it all you are sitting there going, what the fuck is happening. I thought we were all on the same page on this. You want to get along and be friendly and open minded but you cannot pretend to believe in healing crystals, this is nonsense, and when the topic comes up you refuse to lie about it. This eventually starts to have social consequences—they’re that popular!—but what can you do? You cannot pretend a lump of quartz can cure the flu or whatever. It’s just all so unbearably embarrassing.

I think what the centrist/liberal/center-left reactionary turn driven by culture war stuff feels like. And I think the key emotion is probably cringe. Not hate, not fear, though those emotions may reinforce the turn. I think in a lot of cases people who imagine themselves pretty open minded and flexible have as part of their worldview something they thought was bedrock social consensus—on the level of “healing crystals are silly woo”—so bedrock maybe that it didn’t even need to be a conceptual boundary they actually policed in their minds.

For instance, when she started her anti-trans turn, JK Rowling made a big show of not being really anti trans, just arguing that Some People Had Gone Too Far. She wasn’t a frothing religious reactionary, after all. And I believe that’s probably true! I think Rowling probably did have a mental model of sex and gender with a little bit of give in it—of the “we can humor the odd weirdo” type. But as the discussion of trans rights in the UK got more serious over her lifetime, trans people went from “the odd weirdo” to “a recognized minority,” and eventually this ran against a bedrock belief that on some level men are men and women are women and never the twain shall meet. To act otherwise was just too embarrassing. And she wasn’t going to embarrass herself in the name of political correctness.

Other people whose brains have been eaten by the anti-woke mind virus (as @eightyonekilograms calls it) have something going of the contrarian in them, who enjoys yelling “up yours, woke moralists!” or w/e. Im thinking of ppl like Glenn Greenwald here, or Dave Chapelle, people who seem not to feel alive except when people are mad at them. That’s a separate but interesting dynamic. And there are people like Graham Linehan who become totally unhinged through this process of auto-radicalization, moths drawn ever closer to a particular source of validation within their chosen reactionary subcommunity, until they are truly parodies of themselves. That is also an important dynamic, but it’s one that only takes hold after the initial turn has begun.

I think the role of that feeling of cringe, that refusal to entertain an idea because it is too embarrassing (even if it does actually have a decent body of research behind it, unlike crystals) is important to think about, because I am interested in how to get people over it. I know that feeling has affected my own thinking over my lifetime. I wasn’t raised particularly conservative, but I had to learn not to cringe at a lot of feminist thought before I could appreciate it and learn from it. I explicitly didn’t have that cringe when it came to gay people for whatever reason, so it never entered my mind that it might be a problem. I remember being surprised to learn when I was very young that some boys wanted to marry other boys, but my response was “huh. Go figure.” Because for whatever reason I had not picked up that this was something I was supposed to be grossed out by. A general doctrine of empathy, of trying to understand people on their own terms, can help forestall some of this stuff, but it’s not foolproof in either direction—I don’t want to believe crystals have healing powers if it becomes socially popular to do so, just because it is socially popular to do so! And if they do, I don’t want to not believe they do just because it is socially unpopular!

(Obviously the crystals thing is not a one to one metaphor for the trans thing, so don’t read too much into that. Maybe astrology would have been a better analogy. Also I’m not talking just about people whose reactionary turn is predicated on trans issues—I think this dynamic applies to everything from gay rights to the Tridentine Mass. But trans issues are a handy example bc, as the adage goes, somebody posts once about trans people and they never post anything normal again. I think the classic rapid-onset trans derangement syndrome is closely tied to the fact that gender norms are a really deep element of many people’s social-consensus-based worldview, and so challenged to that worldview are felt as really cringe.)

I’m curious if other people who grew more liberal in their thinking over time had a similar experience of having to overcome what was basically a feeling of embarrassment at certain ideas.

[dollfaced-erin]

𝔻𝕣𝕒𝕘𝕠𝕟'𝕤 ℂ𝕣𝕒𝕕𝕝𝕖 (Blade x F!Reader x Jing Yuan)

PART 18

PART 1 , PART 2 , PART 3 , PART 4 , PART 5 , PART 6 , PART 7 , PART 8 , PART 9 , PART 10 , PART 11 , PART 12 , PART 13 , PART 14 , PART 15 , PART 16 , PART 17

A/n :

i'm trying my best to schedule myself, but reading all the rqs i have, im getting pumped up to write again ! though i am having some trouble writing some rqs and it either may take me some time to think about it, or i'll really be stumped looking at it... these days i havent been feeling much motivated so i've been taking time for myself to reconstruct words and redevelop nice and pretty sentences again. I...also am feeling like changing the pictures i use for dragon's cradle...i'm not sure how to though...dw, i'll canva through it ! PENACONY 2.2 IS DROPPING TOMORROW AND IM SO EXCITED-- (this is pre-2.2 dont come at me please,,,) ROBIN WANTERS WILL BE HAVERS TRUST !

Taglist :

@rebeccawinters , @nayukiyukihira , @pix-stuff , @fluffy-koalala , @swivy123 , @starxao , @kaoyamamegami , @kimura-uzuri , @rsvye , @seikouryuu , @just-here-reading , @matsulovesyou, @sincerely-aaronette , @prettyliliy , @chibiduck , @hermosacolibri , @la-diablas-thingz , @farelady-fate , @everi-eve , @shadowfoxey , @helloyuki , @immahuman , @samptlay , @boomie-123

Vidyadhara elegies are the traditional music of the Vidyadhara people. The Vidyadhara use only simple castanets for musical instruments, relying on extremely diverse sets of melodies.

Originating from their folk songs, the style is generally that of mournful dirges. Vidyadhara elegies can be said to represent all of the most tragic aspects of Xianzhou culture, as Vidyadhara players tend to sing about loves lost and pyrrhic victories.

"The previous High Elders have all met with a fate worse than death..." Said an old voice, troubled by the troubles that have been plaguing him ever since his rise onto the position.

"From the first Imbibator Lunae...they have all met their demise in a way no one would expect. The challenge to overthrow them is just getting audacious by the day !" Exclaimed another voice, a woman, perhaps trying to convince someone with her thoughts and principles.

Yes...there was always the threat of assassination from all corners, and if he didn't choose well and right before his time came, be it naturally or by the hand of a forsaken soul, the Luofu shall be plunged into peril without the proper head of a scion to properly guide them...

The horned man thought deeply about this, his gaze looking out the window. His bright and intelligent eyes were gazing up at the moon, as if asking for the guidance of the entity that graced his name. He was supposed to be the wise one, guiding his people and stirring them away from chaos and destruction that may befall upon them. Be it in his time or another...he had his responsibilities set out for him.

So the dragon sighed softly, hoping that none of the Preceptors had heard his little act of impatience and negativity, apprehensive that they may assume that he was finding this all a hassle for him to think about, or even find his improper and impolite behavior discourteous.

It was...too much for him to assume alone. The matter now was in his hands, and not those before him. What he did now would paint portraits towards his ancestors and previous incarnations, and stain the names of his future reincarnations...

He looked beside him, where there was a beautiful young woman, sitting, minding her own business. On her hand was a lovely ring, a sentiment that she was taken by her betrothed. Her (h/c) hair gleamed under the moonlight's grace, letting it shine brighter that the waves of the deep ocean that submerged Scalegorge Waterscape.

Her bright eyes landed on his troubled figure, gracing him with a smile that washed away his worries, akin to a waterlily floating on the surface of the water of an untouched lake. She got up, silks embroidered by the masterful hands of the Vidyadhara craftsmen cupping his cheeks lovingly.

"What's troubling you, my beloved...?" She asked sweetly, her glossy lips still gracing the smile that he wished to protect with every fiber of his draconic being.

Though she wasn't a High Elder, and didn't possess much abilities that were deemed extraordinary to the eyes of the Preceptors. But she was the one that managed the quell the rage that continued to flare in his heart, calming him down with a mere caress of her smooth hands, smoother than the moondrop flowers growing in the silence of night.

To him...she was wiser than anyone else of their caliber.

Being childhood lovers, she watched him grow, she was by his side when he received the eye of abysm, she stood proud in the crowd once he was declared the full-fledge Imbibator Lunae.

His beloved wife.

"My...moon..." The saddened High Elder whispered, his hands rising up to cup her gentle hands that caressed her cheeks. "I...am deeply sorrowed..."

"I must choose the next descendent for our lineage..." He said, leaning into her healing and comforting touch. "Perhaps...we could choose the egg together...?"

"Like...choosing our own children...?" The wife asked, almost jumping in place in surprise. Her (e/c) eyes were wide, almost elated at the prospect of...children.

It was a foreign concept to them, since Vidyadhara's aren't able to reproduce like regular Xianzhou natives. But imagining it...

"Yes...just like--huh ? Children ?" The Imbibator Lunae said, blinking his eyes at her with confusion. Was she serious ? No, that cant be...

"Wait, not one child ?" "Huh, why just choose one when we can have two ?" "But what about the Dragon Heart ?"

"What about it ? One could have it, and we could ask the Perceptors to bind them as siblings, or...perhaps, grow them together to be siblings."

"Siblings..." Imbibator Lunae thought, remembering that Xianzhou natives and Foxians had that concept. It clicked in his mind. His lover had a point, and he had come to realize something.

This...burden of being the Imbibator Lunae...was too much for one person to handle. One responsibility too much for one soul. He...wouldn't be able to protect himself if he was too occupied with the affairs that concerned him more than his own being, like his beloved...

Even the past High Elders had met with a demise no one could foresee, meaning...that there was also no one else to back up and they only had one goal. His stress was thankfully managed by the presence of his beloved, which had grown by his side since she had broken off her shell. But what about the past Imbibator Lunae...?

It was...too much for one person. Too easy to overthrow.

But before the couple could properly choose their heir...the beloved...had fallen before he did.

In his arms, he held the dying and distraught woman in his arms, a gaping hole in her chest from the knife that pierced her without warning, leaving it to penetrate her body before she managed choose their heir together.

Today was supposed to be a joyous day...a day where the two of them would hold hands and walk with the Pearlkeepers to look at the eggs that gleamed brightly, hoping to find potential that would help the Luofu prosper more than in his time. But as they turned their backs, they were blinded by the threats that still lingered to take the couple down, and not even Cloudhymn magic could save her now...

The Imbibator Lunae roared in pain and despair, holding his beloved's dying body close to him, knowing he had to quickly rush her to the egg and let it heal her. But he just...wanted to see her one last time, and give her one last kiss.

The dragon bent down its mourning self, lips pressed against its mate's forehead one final time as tears streamed down his eyes, now dull after the tragic robbery of his beloved from his embrace.

He...couldn't survive this world without her. He couldn't bear the days where she would no longer stand by his side, holding his hand, cupping his face with her small and warm palms. He couldn't bear the days where she wouldn't smile at him, where she would no longer be able to press her lips against his.

No...he couldn't...

So he decided to take the final step, and return his beloved into the egg the Pearlkeepers had kindly provided for her, quietly leading the mourning husband to give his wife her final goodbye.

"I'll see you again, my beloved." He whispered, kissing her forehead with tenderness he had never shown her, not even on their wedding day.

"And...my heart will always be with you. Because one the day we met...you have stolen it, and had always kept it safe. So I'm giving it to you, to remember that only you will ever have my heart, be it the one pumping blood in my body, or the one that my power stems from."

"Without you here by my side...what is all this power for if I cannot protect the one I love...?"

"My dear...Saltator Lunae..."

So he chose his new descendent.

And thus...was born two dragons with beautiful horns on their heads, the older brother's arms curling around his newly hatched sister protectively. His grip was tight, arms holding her close and his teal colored tail coiling around her small form. Their embrace was too heartwarming, not even the maids dared to separate them.

Perhaps this child wished to protect her, vowing deep in his heart to never let anything happen to his precious baby girl. A dragon who had horns just like him. A little smile was etched on his face as he inhaled the scent of lilies that radiated from her soft tufts of hair even though he was deep in slumber.

The Preceptors had to hold a meeting amongst them, trying to figure out what to do with these two set of children. It seemed that they had inadvertently inherited the power of the Permanence, both with the outstanding traits of the true heir to power.

"But the boy was hatched first before the girl ! He is the one with true power to the throne !" One argued, quickly hushed by the other. "But the shell he was cast off from wasn't the one which the past Imbibator Lunae had instructed us to watch over so carefully !"

"The girl is the one with the heart. The one that had passed those trials and irrefutably inherited the power of the Dragon Heart. Both...succeeded in the Transmutation Arcanum..." the oldest of them said, his voice ruling over all other reasons.

"The boy had hatched earlier, with horns and the potential reeking from his form no one dared doubt." Said the wise Vidyadhara elder. "Even the inspectors from the Xianzhou Fanghu had acknowledged that power and potential seeped from these two eggs..."

"But no one...could have ever anticipated the birth of two individuals with draconic traits." Said another. "Everyone had experienced the tremor of incredulous potential, yet we merely betted on which would be the true successor..."

"What if...their fate was to rule together...?" said a woman's voice, loud amongst the chatter and discussion.

"The previous High Elder once wrote in a will, that shall it be a boy that was hatched from the shell, his name Dan Feng, and if she was a girl...name her Dan Jia." The wisest of them all spoke, his voice thundering through the hall as they began to rise to a conclusion.

"But those were the terms for the egg so closely guarded..." He said, little confusion at what was apparently happening.

"Born first, we had called the boy, who bore an uncanny resemblance to his predecessor...as Dan Feng." The old clan member reminded. "And for the egg that had been announced as the next heir...with the dragon heart in the small vessel...she will be named Dan Jia."

"For the first time in the Xianzhou history, let there be two High Elders ruling on the Luofu, siblings, who would equally rule and succeed in aspects failed." He said, rising upon his seat at the head of the table. "One destined for power to eliminate the abominations of celestial bodies, and the other, protecting the heart that stems greatness for them both !"

"The boy is named Dan Feng, the Imbibator Lunae as his predecessors once were...and the girl...shall be named Dan Jia. Saltator Lunae, just as the couple that reigned before they were born."

The table of Preceptors began to clap, finding this new embodiment of power astounding and magnificent, never seen before. Their sounds of clapping was thunderous, almost disturbing the pair that was sleeping a couple rooms away.

"Ngh..." muttered the young boy, curling around his little sister even further, hiding her in his chest to prevent the sounds from hurting her ears and frightening her.

The paper written for the will was yellowed, yet the words on it were still clearly visible to be read. It was preserved despite the passage of time, reflecting the man who sat by his desk, holding the brush in his hand.

"Imbibator Lunae is for the man who enjoys his drinks, watching the moon that gazes so brightly upon him. But where lies the joy of drinking such fine liquor without a desirable dancer ? For the Saltator Lunae would accompany him in his darkest days, moonlight bathing her skin and showing him the way."

(Y/n) looked at the soldier, kneeling before a Foxian healer who had...an unnerving smile on her lips. She didn't have a good feeling about this. Why wasn't this healer laying him on the ground, treating his wounds ? Or why was she standing over him, as if waiting for something to happen...?

The soldier looked as if he was really experiencing torment, his head cradled in his hands as if it were about to burst. Yet the healer did nothing, merely watching as his progress began to deteriorate.

Before (Y/n) could warn and pull March back, the unaware girl began to take her hand and rushed towards the pair.

"Here ! There are still survivors !" March said, almost relieved to see that there were still living people despite the blood battleground she had just witnessed earlier. Perhaps it was a sight to behold, as she wasn't as trained on these grounds as Welt or (Y/n) was.

But Welt seemed to catch on quite quickly, his gaze sharp as he observed the scene before him. It was as if he knew that something was indeed amiss, the same something that (Y/n) was experiencing.

"Hmm...?" Hummed the woman, turning around to face the group that had approached them. Her gaze seemed to be pleased for a bit, before it turned into a scowl. "You're not the Knights...what is your purpose here ? It's dangerous."

There was something in her tone that made (Y/n) feel uneasy. She sounded like she was...worried, but there was a certain hiss in her voice that made (Y/n) sure that she wasn't happy with them intruding in her...business with this knight.

"We're reinforcements sent by the General. Where's everyone else ?" Welt asked, trying to keep the situation under control and calm. Well...with this situation, it wasn't hard to see where it would eventually end up.

The Foxian woman scoffed, crossing over her arms as she heard what Welt had just relayed. "Tsk, resorting to short-life species as reinforcements...hehe, Jing Yuan is really running out of options..."

The taunting and worrying smile was back on the 'healer's' lips as she mentioned that Jing Yuan was possibly running low on manpower to properly eradicate the current problem. And it seems that she hadn't yet noticed that (Y/n) was with them.

It was expected, since communication the the Alchemy delve has been cut off since a few system hours ago. There would be no way for them to know of the current issue happening on the other bodies of the Luofu, such as (Y/n)'s awakening.

"They're here to escort me. The General and the Master Diviner had laid out specific orders for them to tread safely, as well as ensure my safety to tend to the casualties." (Y/n) said, stepping forward to face off this 'healer'.

"You...who do you think you--" The angered look on the woman's face was quickly replaced with shock and fear as she realized the horns that grew from (Y/n)'s head.

"You cant be..."

"All of you ! Run !" Cried out the Knight who was still weak on the ground, battling his own pain that seemed to be almost unbearable for him. "She's a disciple of Sanctus Medicus !"

All color began to drain from everyone's skin, leaving them pale and terrified at the 'healer' lady before them. March's grip on (Y/n)'s hand tightened, indicating that this was not the outcome she had expected to be. A direct face off with the supporters of the Plagues Author !

"Silence." The woman hissed, looking at the fallen soldier. "If my healing worked, you'll become one of us. Then..."

She looked at (Y/n), the grin almost impossibly widening on her face.

"It wont be just me they'll be running from."

It all happened too fast. As if on cue, the fallen Knight began his gruesome transformation. Branches began to sprout from his skin, tearing it apart. His armor began to be one with his skin, almost molding entirely with his being. His body began to surge with incredulous power, rendering his senses numb and murderous intent increasing tenfold.

"Lady (Y/n) !"

"GET BACK !"

(Y/n) quickly pushed March behind her, taking up front with Welt by her side, who came to terms with the situation faster than the younger women. With a nod to the brunette, (Y/n) produced her glass hand fan from thin air, the weapon of choice materializing in her hand quicker than light. Welt held his cane, ready to unleash the power of the black hole that he had kept sealed, hoping to never unleash its full potential.

The knight began to rush towards them, tears in his eyes as he tried his best to land his lightest attacks for as long as he remained conscious, for a soldier's dignity lies in their death. Losing control and his mind...would be a warrior's worst nightmare.

His attacks were still deadly and heavy, but he had no control whatsoever over his doings. Though he was experienced with enhanced abilities, (Y/n) and Welt did their best to fend off the regretful man, hoping to put him to rest in the calmest and most humane way.

"Please...I'm sorry..." the man pitifully cried as (Y/n) parried his attack with her fan, swiftly landing a kick to his side. The dragon woman was indeed merciful, and she had her sympathies for the man who had lost all hope of regaining his former pride.

But why couldn't she get close in and quickly put him to rest...?

Unlike the Exhalting Sanctum...she didn't have much memory of herself to full deploy and outlet her power. But now that she was aware...why wasn't she...

She felt like there were still a reign of shackles tying her down...

"Why are you apologizing ?! Didn't you all come here to the Xianzhou to seek immortality ?!" The woman screeched, watching from the backlines as more celestial beings of abundance began to advance towards them.

"You don't have to appease Jing Yuan ! The Disciples of Sanctus Medicus can grant your every wish ! To be immortal like the Natives ! To have a long and prosperous life like the Vidyadhara people !" She cackled, eyes glinting with malice and insanity as she watched the group begin to get surrounded.

(Y/n) was busy fending off the lost soldier as well as getting herself surrounded left and right by borisins and their shadow kin. Though how many times she had launched attacks, she was never able to fully push them back. She was at a loss, she was afraid and worried...

She understood now. Why she couldn't blindly charge in...

She was afraid of losing control of her power if she used it without her brother by her side...

Welt was by her side, exerting himself to his greatest ability to never cause harm, potentially plunging everyone into deep danger if he lost control. March and Stelle were backing them up, with March using her bow and Stelle with her bat, coursing with the crackling power of destruction.

They were all fighting...they were all in danger...

"Please, Lady (Y/n)..." the soldier begged her. "Let me meet the end I deserve."

"Let me die with honor..."

"Honor...?" (Y/n) whispered, her voice coming out in breaths of white, cold from the ice she produced. But the man before her nodded, hoping she'd do the best thing she could.

She was afraid...hoping to never misuse her power in fear of destruction it entails. But he was right. She had people she must protect, whether or not her brother was there to properly keep her power in check.

"I understand."

With a small smile on her lips, the dragon lady began to come close to her companions, hoping that they'll be within her protection. With a single rise of her fan, just as she had done with Yanqing, rose an illusion of an ice lotus, trapping her companions to keep them safe.

"I'm sorry." (Y/n) whispered, looking at the infected before her, before her eyes began to glow, and her tail appearing behind her. She never wished for her power to be out of control, yet to protect, one must go through lengths far beyond boundaries.

(Y/n) held her fan tight in her hand, close to her chest. With a single swing of her fan, water from the sea surrounding the delve began to rise, turning into waves as it began to sweep away the entire colony, picking up the borisins and the disciples in its way, pulling them off to the edge with their powerful forces.

For those who managed to withstand her waves, she cast upon them winds that would cut through them and hinder their sight. With a single stroke of her fan, she sent amplified ice blizzards, cutting through their regenerating skins time and time again like tiny razor blades, faster than their demonic abilities.

With fingers to her lips, her pointer and thumb forming a circle, she blew on the tips of her fingers to send out her ice, freezing those in her path, starting by freezing the droplets of water on their body, piercing deep into them, and freezing the fluids that coursed as a source of life.

It was like the sea. So gentle and soothing, yet with forces so strong to pull enemies deep into the heavy and dark depths. Some place so comforting like a warm embrace, yet terrifying with depths of unknown danger.

Once the waves had washed off the pavilion, all that was left...were the frozen bodies of the loyal worshippers of the Plagues Author. It was cleaned out from the remaining infected lives that were threatening their own, reminding her of the sins that would be washed away by the sea when they were reborn...

"Woah ! Looks like the frozen statues of the antimatter legion back on Jarilo-VI !" March excitedly said, looking at the figures encased in ice for as long as (Y/n) willed for it.

The young pink-haired woman then turned to look at (Y/n), wanting to know more and perhaps ask about if she could do the same as (Y/n). But as she turned around, (Y/n) was already walking into the 'exhibit' of her power.

"Lady (Y/n) ! H-hey, where are you going ?!"

Then she heard little voices as she walked past the frozen statues...

"Brother...shall one day we cast off our old shells...would we be able to find each other again...?" Said a young child voice from afar.

"Maybe...my little moonflower. We'll never know..." Replied a slightly more mature voice, explaining to the young child in the kindest way possible.

"But should you ever forget me...the things you've done in this life is bound to make you remember little by little, no matter how hard you try."

Before her was the fallen Cloud Knight, who begged her to end him in the most honorable way. He was on the ground, kneeling, trying to control the plague that threatened to run rampant despite his exhausted state.

"It seems...that even you...haven't found the path yet, my Lady..." The knight said, laughing bitterly, yet still respectfully. "Leave, my Lady, for they have 'converted me'. I don't have much longer..."

"I'm here...to give you one last gift..." (Y/n) said softly, cold air leaving her thin lips, frosty like the gaze in her eyes.

"One...that may even help prolong your path to your fated end." She said softly as she knelt before him.

She was tired, having exerted most her powers into summoning the tides, still unused to properly controlling it over the centuries of unending dormancy. She wanted to rest, perhaps even curl up while she cuddled her tail like a child. But now wasn't the time for it.

There were duties to be fulfilled...

Swiftly lifting up her hands, she exercised hand signs of various meanings as if it were her second nature, much more precise than that blind woman that existed before she broke those shackles binding her down.

The only way to progress in life...was to accept and adapt.

Her pointer finger and middle finger together held up before her, she shut her eyes as she began to trace the spores that existed within the man's body. With swift and precise movements, she immediately moved swift as the wind, and as piercing as a dragon's talon.

Unlike the woman that had just awoken, blind and foolish to the world that revolved around her, tossing smiles and laughter like the fleeting leaves in the air...she was no longer shackled, nor bound.

Unlike her past...she would never act foolishly again fearing the recurring pitiful demise of a dreamer who lived to dance and love.

(Y/n) stood up, a soft sigh leaving her lips as she dusted off her clothes. The team approached her side, looking down at the soldier before them, lying on the ground as if he were taking a nap from a grueling shift. Her eyes softened, the feelings of mercy and regret ebbing away at her soul.

"What...happened to him ?" March asked softly, holding Stelle's hand for comfort.

"Did you...give him his final embrace, Lady (Y/n) ?" Tingyun slowly asked, trying to step around the bubbling waters.

(Y/n) didn't turn around to face them, but instead parted her lips to give her response, a hand raised to her ear to gently touch the trinket that hung from her pointed organ. "Nothing. Just...soothed his pain a little."

Then she took in a deep breath, looking forward, as if regaining her peace by touching the windchime. "Right. Should we stumble upon a recuperation camp, let's inform them of this one. At the very least, they would be able to send this one to the Ten-Lords Commission."

Along the path, they stumbled across more bodies that have been swept up in the clashing of worlds. Divine celestial beings on the ground with wounds healing at an impossible rate, fallen bodies of the Knights that have half transformed into the forsaken, life leaving their beings before their twisted methods were complete.

There were even some which (Y/n) had them stop in the middle of the way to provide relief, either putting them to sleep to induce the pain, or freezing their cores and helping them relax as they healed after fierce and relentless battles.

But one thing caught her eye. That amicassador.

The Dragon Lady's gaze never left her being, always keeping her in the outermost corner of her sight. There was...something odd about her. Perhaps the striders of the trailblaze would've never noticed, but she sensed...a cosmical energy emanating from that Foxian girl.

There's just something...off with this girl. The way she talks, her interests, her stance during the fight earlier. Something wasn't right.

She didn't have much time to ponder. Due to their thundering steps of different weights and paces, they began to alarm the individuals standing guard past the wall they were about to round.

"Who goes there ?! Show yourselves !" Called out a clear voice of a male, sense of urgency and alert in his tone.

Cloud Knights. They had really reached their temporary base.

Welt took charge, walking ahead of them to confront the guards. "We come in peace." He said, almost making the rest of them snicker in amusement with the way he walked up to them with raised hands.

The guards, of course, didn't seem to take this lightly. But there was relief shining in their eyes when they see the esteemed guests of the General of the Xianzhou Luofu escorting the long awaited Dragon Lady.

"Saltator Lunae !" They sighed in relief. "Quickly, in here ! It's dangerous outside."

"You knew we were coming already ?" March said as they were escorted by one of the guards into the camp, the other standing guard. March was quite curious to how the Cloud Knights weren't that much fazed by their arrival.

"The Master Diviner prophesized your arrival. We were ordered to wait for you under any circumstance." He assured with a steady nod of his helmeted head.

"So...the Master Diviner is already here ?" (Y/n) asked, storing away her fan since she deemed it to be safe for her and her companions.

"Yes. The Master Diviner ordered us to remained stationed here and went to scout ahead." He affirmed again. "They're saying the Disciples of Sanctus Medicus have returned-- they haven't been seen for an age. The troops are anxious."

"I...can imagine." She said with a slight nod of her own head.

"It's good you arrived. The Master Diviner said the Knights weren't to move out until you arrived." He said, but then remembered one more important note.

"Right. While you are here, and we're awaiting the next orders of the Master Diviner, there is something that needs to be clarified." He said seriously, looking at the group. "This is as far as Lady (Y/n) will follow you, esteemed guests of the General."

The group gasped a little, but they were by no chance much surprised. They knew they were missioned to just escort her, but was it just until here, or would they re-group ? But it was the General's orders.

"May I ask what happens from now on ?" (Y/n) asked, a little curious to her next course of fate that awaited her.

The Cloud Knight nodded, standing straight before the honorable woman before him. "Yes, my Lady. General Jing Yuan himself had ordered us to have you wait here. He will come soon, and lead a separate path from the Master Diviner."

"As far as we are informed, you will be joining him on a more confrontational matter."

For some reason she felt a tingle spark up her spine. For some reason she was anxious. For some reason...she was scared.

Something bad was bound to happen.

[str4ngr]

STARTERS [ SIMON 'GHOST' RILEY ]

cw: none, strangers to lovers, first meeting, not beta read, might be military inaccuracies because im not in the military, medic! fem!reader. notes: i've worked so hard [exaggeration] to make this look cute but ik its gonna devolve in 0.5 seconds. this is part one of a series. words: 1,065.

"This won't be easy."

A fair warning, a meager one too, from your new, technically, superior, Kate Laswell. You had accepted her offer as a combat medic, seeing as their next mission was supposed to take months. But those months weren't even this year, they were the next.

This year, it was your mission to become familiar with your crew, have a starter and a taste.

Considering you've dealt with plenty of irritable, ill-mannered patients in the E.D. before, it shouldn't feel so stuffy when you enter the base. You I.D. card was scanned, and you were permitted entry past the intimidating security guard who's eyes nailed you like you were his prey. You might've been.

Heels clacking, you rushed to your new office,

MEDICAL WING

A sign read, in red, right above your head. You wanted to feel like you were walking into a new life, but the stares and exhausted attempts at a smile the veteran nurses tossed you made a breath you didn't realize you were holding leave.

Luckily, offices were assigned, and yours was on the first floor.

Empty and quite sad, you tossed your backpack and purse onto your desk, which didn't even have a chair, and put your hands on your hips. Laswell had told you that they wouldn't be back until evening, it was morning.

It felt like walking into your first job, gingerly taking your steps to the staff lounge where you introduced yourself to the nurses who were lounging. They returned the gesture graciously, luckily understanding of your nerves.

Soon enough, your actual superior came to greet you, smiling and laughing with the rest of the staff as she raved about you. As soon as basic information was given, you were tossed out of your nest, bidding you a good flight. The ED never waits for anyone after all.

⚬

As your first day ended and your night began, you sat in your office, which you finally got a chair for, to sift through paperwork. Boring things never really last for long, and as much as you'd like to one-go your work, it definitely wasn't happening. Especially when your sweet nurses and the other doctors bombarded into your office, playfully asking, more like dragging, you to come with them to the mess hall.

It's impolite to say no, isn't it?

It was fun. It was like being in high school again, smiling and giggling before everyone leans into to whisper, bursting back out into laughter. Oh, and it was juicy. Real juicy, juicier when they mentioned him.

"Ghost?"

You ask, tilting your head as you raise a brow, "What kinda' callsign's that?" There was a strange inkling of familiarity of the name, just right under your nose. The nurse who was telling the story went wide-eyed, grinning at you,

"Oh, honey, he's the one with the skull mask."

The mask. The fucking mask.

Everyone could see it, how you face paled like snow, your head dropping as you gawked at them. They all laughed at your reaction, it was quite comical, though they found it funnier for reasons different than yours, teasing, "I haven't even said the story yet!"

Well, Laswell did. God, were you stupid? He was from Task Force 141! They all, allegedly, saw him in the gym, allegedly lifting double his weight, and allegedly you were blushing at the idea of the number, allegedly. And that was essentially the whole story. The nurse beside you poked as he cooed at you,

"Aw, does the doctor have a crush on her first day?" Laughing as you smacked his arm playfully, a stupid grin on all of your faces. The conversation moves on, talking about the soldiers that got into a fight, and how funny it was when one got a rhinoplasty. It felt like you were half-present, like a fever dream as your thoughts swirled together. Maybe your shift was a little too long.

But you couldn't stop thinking about him, your fork spinning the lukewarm pasta as you blandly laughed with your caffeine-high colleagues. Was he really that fascinating?

You couldn't stop thinking about him, your fork spinning the lukewarm pasta as you blandly laughed with your caffeine-high colleagues. Was he really that fascinating? Your mind ran with every though, you hadn’t even seen him today, and yet here you were imagining him, strong, tall, muscular. And of high status? he sure seemed like the pear most imaginative women would like.

But you can't expect him to be a perfect romance lead, especially the more you listened, seeing as he was quite the topic.

Everyone else seemed to just know him, know him in the sense that he was a figure of admiration. The strongest, the fastest, the most intricate, coolest man on one of the greatest task forces affiliated. They knew every little intricate detail of his service. But you didn’t. You don’t even know what they mean by a ‘skull mask’, was it a full skul? does he do face paint like a 3-year-old? You've never seen him, not that you were reluctant to the chance to.

Maybe you were insane, especially since there was the entire rest of the task force for you to get familiar with too. Well, he was one of them so you should go one by one, right—

"Ya' like to talk, dinnea ya?"

You twitched at the voice, "Scottish," You thought to yourself, "John 'Soap' MacTacvish." Laswell had some comments about him, mostly about his inability to speak understandable English, and his refusal to get a military standard haircut, aka he has a mohawk. But it wasn't just the Scot, the devil answered when his name was called.

Simon 'Ghost' Riley.

It was almost as if he knew who you were the moment your eyes met, like a fuse set off between you. Brown eyes, deep like dark chocolate, and cold like the tundra, and more magnetic than any other man you've ever seen, he stared at you, speaking to his friend,

"Seems like they do, Johnny."

Gravelly and low, almost inaudible if it weren't for your fixated ear, his voice whispered to Soap, his eyes never leaving yours. Soap, or Johnny as Ghost had so endearingly called him, grinned, plopping beside you,

"Aye, yer that new medic Laswell's been talkin' 'bout?"

You blink a couple times before you smile, nodding as you introduce yourself. Soap smiles back, polite yet inked with a bit of his eccentric personality, taking your hand into a firm shake. You smile up at the masked figure,

"You must be Ghost, right?"

He gave a bland grunt, not that you expected much more from a quiet man. Soap grinned, ignoring Ghosts lack of proper manners to introduce himself. With small conversation, they left, almost.

Although he walked away, he never left your mind, and you never left his.

⚬ ☠︎︎ ⚬

i think i'm just gonna set the reader to female bc ik i'm eventually gonna do suggestive bits so it'll be easier in the long run. lmk if you have any ideas for simon. [or the others i wrote about!!] also lmk if i should make a taglist. [part two]

EYES THAT HOLD SECRETS

directory

[heartshapedbubble]

omg i was answering this req and when i saved it to my drafts I COULDN'T EDIT IT??? so i deleted it in hopes to remake it BUT THE ASK WAS GONE fuck you tumblr :(( im so sorry anon you know who you are

aesop carl, qi shiyi and frederick kreiburg w/ a singer s/o hcs⚰️🪈🎼

aesop carl⚰️

...you'd have to do most of the initiation with him. aesop carl is not impolite, not at all, but the crippling anxiety overcoming him makes it hard to go beyond a "hello" or any other introduction. he has a lot of nice things to say to you, romantic even, but during the first couple of months you'll have to basically yank them out of him

aesop is horrible with words, and would rather just hide away and hope you notice how he feels about you. in his eyes, the simple things he does with you - small talk, exchanges of handkerchiefs and drinks by the table, midnight walks when everyone's asleep - are acts of confessing his love. to him, trust equals love, and love equals assistance and communication.

something that he's even more afraid, though, is singing. talking can be quiet, unnoticeable, blending in with everyday noises, but singing is always noticeable. the change of pitch can be caught even by an untrained ear, and the ensuing confrontation, to him, is terrifying.

you fascinate him, a lot. unlike him, you're not afraid to set your voice free, letting it echo through the room and spin around you like a ribbon. kind of like an aura, it attracts passerbys and always leaves them standing in awe, even if it's just for a minute. that kind of confidence is impressive, and he himself finds it rather enchanting.

as you train your voice on the podium, enjoying yourself and twirling around in your flowy robes as if there's nobody around, the last thing that's on your mind right now is a potential secret admirer somewhere nearby. the secret admirer being aesop, of course. he's crouching in one of the loges, partly sick to the stomach because someone might walk in on - or even worse, you may notice - him, partly enjoying your outstanding performance.

qi shiyi🪈

she thinks you two make for a pretty nice duet ;)

you two clash at moments, as she enjoys and is used to the more "formal" arts such as opera and your field of interest is musicals, but overall she's enarmored by your talent and your charisma. jazz, rock, ballad or aria, a strong voice does not go unnoticed.

once she softens up to you, you'll notice just how much she enjoys your voice. as you comb her hair, she asks you to sing something for her. when you two are fast asleep, her head is on your chest, listening to your soft hums as she's lulled to sleep. calls you her songbird as she wraps her arm around your waist and spins you around in your brand new costume.

here and there she'll dust off her old flute and play a nostalgic melody or two. it's even better when enrichened with your singing, and it motivates her to jump back on her feet and do a little three-step as she plays

frederick kreiburg🎼

he's not a wunderkind, but being surrounded by music from a young age he has quite the trained ear. he can quickly differentiate between a powerful mezzosoprano and a rich, dark alto. a lot of insinuations and jokes have been made behind your back about how you two are perfect for each other, but he just rolls his eyes, not bothering with empty gossip.

thanks to the unisolated manor walls, at one point he'll hear some vocal exercises coming from your room

am i losing my mind again? he thinks to himself, looking around in wonder. he stays in the hallway for a little longer, trying to find the source of this haunting voice - and it will take time, oh, indeed, but eventually he'll knock on your door and unintentionally kick off your relationship

as expected, he enjoys playing alongside you. motivating him to crack his knuckles and sit in front of the piano again is hard, but the both of you know your irresistible smile will not leave him any other choice....

mostly picks out german lieder from his collection of sheet music, but of course, adapts to your wishes - something more energetic works great as a warm up

he's the happiest when he performs alongside you on the podium. nothing makes his face light up like when he watches you sing from behind the piano, gesturing towards the audience and slowly dancing to the composition unraveled by his fingers, basking under the golden spotlight.

[princesssmars]

when you hear a franctic knocking at your door and find a crying victoria covered in blood, you're stuck in place as you take in the sight in front of you.

victoria never cries.

you usher her in and have her stand in your hallway, trying to think lf the best course of action in a hurry so she wont have to dwell in whatever happened. you gently guide her to the bathroom, telling her to clean herself off while yku took her clothes to wash them while you made her something warm to eat. she nodded without a word.

she'd told you before what to do in emergencies like this, infrequent 'work related accidents' that she hoped youd never have to deal with but wanted you to be prepared regardless. it's why she was so hesitant to accept your first invitation for coffee, why she insisted you stay in an inconspicuous but cozy apartment she half paid for with complicated locks and hidden security cameras she could access with a tap on her phone.

she insisted on protecting you. from exactly what, you weren't sure. but you trusted her, trusted her enough to relentlessly scrub away the dark red in her pantsuit with soap and baking soda as her meal cooked on the stove. a hefty serving of peas and carrots stew - bazella w riz - that she once confided in you was her favorite dish as a child. after you manage to scrub a good chunk of the blood away you set it in the dryer to warm for when she leaves in the morning, pulling out a set of pajamas you bought for when she stays over. the brown fleece set matching the white one you were currently wearing.

you set the clothes on the side of the bed that faces the bathroom, the sound of the shower still audible. at this point, she's been in there for half an hour, but you won't disturb her. you know she needs some time to be alone before she can open up to you.

just when you turn off the eye for the finished stew your ears picked up the gentle click of the bedroom door followed by the soft plap-plaps of her slippers before you feel the heat of her chest on your back and her arms ensnared around your waist.

"im sorry. about all of this."

"its fine. you know its fine."

she goes quiet again, silently watching you pour the stew into a bowl before setting it down on the coffee table, patting the seat next to you on the couch. you'd normally insist she eat it at the dining table, but you decided to be lenient just this once.

she leaned forwards as she scarfed down the food, probably the most impolite you'd ever seen her. when you told her so she just mumbled out a 'm'sorry' before eating some more.

once she finished she let out a sigh as she leaned back into the couch, gripping your arm when you started to clean up after her and pulling you back down. you smile, about to lecture her for being so clingy when she speaks.

"tony. i killed tony."

your smiles fades. you wait for her to say she was telling a not so funny joke, that she hadn't actually killed her closest friend from her time at red river. but she doesn't, just stares at the empty space on the couch between you.

"i...im sorry. i know how much he meant to you."

she softly nods, hand coming up to wipe away a stray tear.

"you're comforting me after you just washed my friends guys out my clothes?"

you move in closer when you hear voice get low, guiding her head down to lay on your shoulder and bringing omenof her legs to settle over yours.

"of course i am. i know you wouldn't have done it without a reason. you did have a good reason, right?"

"yes. yes, i did. he would have exposed me he..he almost killed me."

her hand twitches, a tell tale sign that shes nervous.

"then you did what you had to do. no matter what happens, im staying here. by your side. ok?"

her head moves to look at you, taking her hand from yours to tilt your head so she can place a gentle kiss to your forehead. she guides your head to rest on her fhest, laying back in the couch with your bodies entangled.

"ok."

[lyavee44]

Saudade [LEON S. KENNEDY X LUIS S. NAVARRO]

oh man, i never posted a fanfic before. im SCARED.

english isn't my first language, so i apologise for any errors in advance. and PLEASE correct me so i know better in the future!<//3

ngl it's a teensy tiniest little bit out of character, i got too silly

ion even ship them but i thought this would be really fun to write

word count - 25k

cw - COVID-19 is actually a B.O.W. (😭), mentions of death, suicidal thoughts, kidnapping, vulgar language, umbrella sucks ass, bad worldbuilding, sort-of coming out on both parts, fluff, angst if you squint, i forgor that benford kicked the bucket in 2013 so pretend he didn't 🙀 i already resurrected luis + re6 storyline is trash let's ignore it for the sake of old man yaoi

────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────────

This time, it can be different. It has to.

That is exactly what Leon told himself so many years ago before being sent off to rescue Ashley Graham. True, it sure was different. Nothing in his life could've prepared him for such an awakening, for having sunshine gently cascade over his face just for an eclipse to come moments later. Nothing could've prepared him for the harsh drop that left him chilled to the bone, blinded, and lost.

It's not as if he never loved before per se, he's had his fair share of flings - more or less serious. He's never been in so deep, though. He's never been one to believe in feelings to develop so quickly, either. Or rather, he didn't let himself get those feelings to bloom. Too risky to even think about it. Potentially harmful to himself and the other person. Forget it, Kennedy.

He knows there's more to life than just what he's grown to get accustomed to over the years. The stench of blood and gunpowder was practically undetectable to his nose at this point with how often he's caught onto it. It felt as if any firearm he got his hands on was molded perfectly for his callous palms, it felt natural. And yet, he knows this isn't it. This isn't what life is about, it's not about ending other beings for the sake of saving more. "Saving the world by destroying it, ain't that backwards?" is what he said to someone years ago as well. Goodness, it's been so many years and they're pouring through the cracks of his fingers. They're slipping away faster than his sobriety with every sip. Where did the time go...?

The agent sat there on his bed, right at the coffee table. His hand felt glued to the shot glass, the back of his throat beginning to burn more and more with the sting of pure vodka. He didn't even bother to buy his favourite booze, brandy, he didn't feel particularly deserving of a decent treat. If anything, he was miserable. All the years went by faster than the shots he's been downing for the past hour. While he isn't much of a lightweight, his head was fuzzy. All Leon wanted right now was to never leave his own eerily empty four walls anymore. He didn't want to bother, he just wanted the world to shut off.

And just when he was about to pour another round, his phone rang. The blonde groaned, his brows furrowing. He reached for the beat up device, checking the caller ID.

Hunnigan.

"Great," he rasped out, mumbling quiet expletives and then taking a few deep breaths. He knew better than to be impolite to his fellow support agent. She wasn't at fault for any of this madness anyway. She was just there to team up with him, and he had no business in having her deal with his low humour.

Clearing his throat, he finally picked up and hesistantly raised the phone to his ear, speaking in a groggy voice.

"Hey there, long time no speak." he tried to sneak in a chuckle, but all that came out was a short, wheeze-like scoff. The last mission he's been assigned to was maybe a month ago, and they hadn't spoken since.

"Really funny, Leon." the woman chided him in her low voice, although her retort held a hint of fond amusement. Despite everything, she cared for him like a friend would, professionalism aside. Speaking of which, she cleared her throat and forced herself to talk about what was at hand.

"Listen, there's something brewing. It isn't looking so good. It's-"

"No shit, Ingrid." he cut her off, his voice more impatient. He mentally cursed himself for snapping, although he already know what was at hand. Just another time he's gonna be getting his hands dirty for the sake of everyone else.

"Come on, Leon! What's up with you now?" Hunnigan exclaimed, already getting fed up with his attitude. "We've got something at hand that isn't looking like a regular B.O.W. It's not mutating phenotypes like the regular ones, it's more like... It's..."

"Sorry, I'm sorry." He cut her off once again, although it was uncertain if he was chiming in or apologising for his earlier behaviour. "No, it's just... Nevermind. Tell me about this."

"Thanks," The other agent huffed in response, shaking her head on the other line.

"It's as if they're coming up with someone to just straight up weaken or kill people." She finally explained as vaguely yet efficiently as she could, radio silence on the other side almost deafening her.

"Leon...?" She felt his hesistation, and it only served to frustrate her further.

"Yea, yea, m'still there," He mumbled, his voice holding a slight tremble to it. While he always kept a level head and quick wit in which he secretly prided himself in, he felt like he'll crumble any second now. He didn't know what was up with him this time, this dread...

"Leon!" Hunnigan yelled, her brows furrowed. "Turn on the video chat, I gotta see if you are in a decent state at all."

He flinched, hating the way it all got to him. He let out a grumble and clicked the video chat feature, his broken front camera displaying him in a slightly blurry picture. And yet, the redness to his nose and cheeks was obvious. Not only was he tipsy, but he seemed... shaken.

"There you are. Now, just listen. I don't know what the hell is up with you, but i wanna see you at the headquarters in half an hour. Not a minute later." The woman's brows were scrunched together, her red, round glasses gently slipping near the tip of her nose.

"Yes, ma'am." He gave her a weak smile, letting out a loud exhale when she nodded and ended the call. He hid his face in his hands, letting out yet another shaky breath.

***

"...And as you can see, it's not a regular bioweapon. All we know is that the Umbrella unit in Wuhan is probably responsible for this. We probably will have to send you and a few other agents to China for further investigation, and hopefully have you eliminate the risks." Hunnigan spoke in a levelled tone, holding a bunch of documents in her slender hands as she finished giving him an overview of the situation, although it was still too vague to take action properly. Leon stood there, really out of it. While he was showered and wearing clean clothes, he felt nasty. He was so tired, so guilty over snapping at everyone, even the kind young man at the lobby. 'God damn it Kennedy, what has he done to you?' he thought, only registering what she was saying. He spared a moment to think about the whole ordeal though, a spark of realisation dawning on him.

"Does that mean they want to... eliminate civilians in an unassuming way? With just a mutated flu, is that it?" He suggested, pointing at one of the reports on his colleague's desk.

Ingrid's eyes widened, she glanced at the document and back at him in bemusement.

"Now that's a... dark scenario. A scarily fitting one at that," She responded, her voice holding a hint of nervousness.

"Didn't we have scarier stuff out there, though? A deadly cold is still better than an ARG-esque rendition of The Walking Dead." He scoffed bitterly, shooting her a glance. Holding onto cynical humour was his only grip on sanity, the last desperate scratch at the border of being in his right mind. He was terrified deep inside, like that boy he used to be. The poor, shaken young man, covered in sewage and blood, forced to kill and hopefully not get killed. He's been running scared for so many years. It all got him want to just have it all flip backwards and let him aim the glock at his temple. He missed the cheery lad he used to be. The spring in his step, the spark in his navy eyes that restored hope in everyone's hearts is long gone.

And yet, his own heart pumped with this foolish, childish virtue.

"Leon," the woman spoke in a quieter tone, putting her hand on his shoulder. "You know you've got this. You've got it all this time. You have this resilience in you that inspires many." She tried reassuring him, patting his shoulder softly. While it was rare for her to drop her façade of stoic professionalism, she sensed it's not something worth being cold over. Like they say, a friend in need is a friend indeed.

"Yea, inspires Benford to make me a slave." He mumbled, although his expression softened at her touch.

"Thanks, Hunnigan. I... I appreciate it. We're in this together, ain't we?" He shot her a more determined look, the corners of his lips twitching up just a little bit further up. The woman nodded, a small smile making way to her face as well.

He really felt grateful for having solace in her, it seemed as they understood eachother without speaking a word. She truly was a friend to him, teaming up with him through the trenches of this rotting world.

Life couldn't be that way until the end. It has to be different someday. It has to.

***

It's been quite a bit since Hunnigan called him in, and there was no actual news. The president dialled him a few times and spoke about this as well, although he was just as confused and frantic as they all were. The ordeal sparked unsettlement in the HQ, and it soon was to spread like a sickening virus to the outside world.

Figuratively and literally.

"Agent Kennedy, I'm afraid it's going to be something we hadn't seen before, I-I need to inform you beforehand that it's a worldwide crisis..." President Benford spoke frantically, it was a bit unlike him. Leon was watching the news while on the phone with him, trying his best to focus on both.

"The countries of British Islands are currently in lockdown due to a pandemic spreading, the citizens are advised to not leave their houses without protective masks on," There it was, the thing everyone was whispering about at the DSO headquarters. It was a hush-hush topic, as no one knew for sure. Or rather, no one wanted to be sure of something like this.

"Well yes, I can definitely figure as much. The UK is already quarantined, ain't it? What about China, then? Wouldn't that make a potential mission harder to even initiate?" The man spoke up, fiddling with an empty glass in front of him. He surprisingly wasn't drinking this time around, though. He secretly hoped that the mission would've been handled differently, without his involvement. It was hard to imagine a different scenario, though. It's the sad truth - whenever there's real danger, he's gotta step in.

"No. If anything, it'll be a bit easier. Civilians will stay home, and your job will be limited to entering the Umbrella facility. You might be sent to Wuhan along a few agents that'll be chosen for the job. We won't make the team larger than maybe three units at best." The older man explained, all while Leon was rubbing his temples in annoyance.

"Sure, easier..." The blonde blurted out quietly, biting his lip. He didn't know what's been getting into him lately, something akin to a midlife crisis of some sort. While still strong and energetic, he was a wreck mentally. Like a reanimated corpse. He shuddered at the imagery, the picture hitting too close to what he's been dealing with during T-virus outbreaks.

"I will pretend i didn't hear that." The president replied in a stern voice, clearly displeased with the agent's demeanour. They were friends, but also on boss-employee terms. That came first, unfortunately.

In no time, languid days of downing whiskey and eating store bought lasagna were cut short before Leon knew it. The man was currently being transported to China with a few other agents. While they did technically form a team, he knew he'll probably have to do most of the dirty work including sneaking into the labs while they corner the scientists. His earlier apprehension and apathy was replaced with a newfound determination: he knew it's just a matter of time for a virus outbreak to come to fruition, and it's not even clear what kind of virus it really is. Nothing he's been dealing with before, yet nothing he couldn't handle. Right?

***

Wuhan, China - 01/23/2020

The blonde man's finger tapped against the barrel of his handgun nervously. It was rare for him to fidget, but something about the whole ordeal was off in general. Day of the Wacko, he thought to himself.

As him and the team were discussing details of breaking in while hiding between a field of some large containers, they came to a conclusion that the three younger agents should hide in strategic spots and eventually corner anyone who gets on Leon's tail, who's going to be responsible for investigating and essentially just sneaking around the enemy's lair. Exactly how he knew it'd go. While he was tired and annoyed, he didn't trust anyone else to do this quite like he did.

"Roost to Condor One." The slightly noisy sound of a leveled mezzo-soprano voice came from his COM, successfully cutting his pondering short.

"Condor One here, we're near the facility's rear gate. Obviously just trying to break in through the gate itself is not the way, we're trying to figure out if there's a way through the sewers, perhaps." Leon responded, keeping his voice hushed as he spoke to Hunnigan. However his attempts to stay discreet were cut short as one of the rookies shouted cheerfully that he found a sewer entrance that could directly lead to the facility. The older agent facepalmed discreetly and another young rookie chided her teammate, her tone also hushed despite the sternness.

"We've got to go there soon. Condor One out." Leon hang up, waving his hand at the rookies and trotting closer to the canalisation entrance in the ground. He wasted no time in asking the young woman for help with moving it aside, she seemed quite toned compared to the other two men they've been working with. Once they could enter, they immediately rushed inside the sewers, the last of the agents clumsily pulling the cover back on once he slipped in as well.

The way inside Umbrella's building wasn't exactly pleasant. The stench of rot and filth was unbearable, it was a real challenge to not slip on some of the disgusting, miscellaneous things on the concrete. Other agents whined under their noses, and Leon couldn't help rolling his eyes.

"When I was your age, I tumbled around worse smut." He quipped, trying to lift the mood. All he got in response were stifled chuckles, and he mentally cursed himself for his choice of words. His embarrassment was short lived once they found a ladder that could lead to the building's rear gate.

Everything else went pretty much according to plan, even Leon's silent vow to not scold the everliving shit out of his colleagues. They were clumsy, they seemed too careless. They're still kids, they've got to learn the ropes, you used to be just like them, he repeated in his mind.

While they managed to break into a cloakroom and get their hands on janitor attire, the older agent began to look for somewhere more private so he could dial Hunnigan. The whole ordeal was so vague, he didn't even know what the hell's he looking for.

"Condor One to Roost, we've successfully broke in. I'm currently trying to locate a lab, although I'm not exactly sure what I gotta look out for," He whispered while tucked away in a bathroom stall, constantly looking around for cameras. Chill out, it's illegal to monitor bathrooms... So is creating bioweapons, and yet here we are, he paled at the thought.

"From the info gathered from a spy, you should head to the third floor and look for room number 3048. That's the place suspected of having a potential new bioweapon hidden there." Hunnigan responded, catching onto his quiet voice and figuring she better be careful as well.

"Copy that. I'll go right away. Condor One out." He hang up, shoving his COM into his pocket and sighing. He carefully listened for a clue of his team's diversion starting so that he could leave and head straight to the point. The plan was to get the attention of scientists on something insignificant so that he could get to point B.

A creaky moan reverberated through the halls, and concerned voices echoed. He chuckled to himself, amused at his colleague's theatrical display. The blonde quickly snapped out of it though, double checking if he's got everything on him and beginning to head straight for the third floor.

It was surprisingly easy, all he had to do was evading a few oddly placed cameras making his way up some stairs. Looks like they're not exactly fit. Tch, the elevator's for pussies, he mused to himself. He was quiet as a mouse, reaching the third floor without even wheezing from extertion it must've taken. The hall was darker than the other ones, and just a few doors had light peeking through the cracks. The most dim, barely visible brightness was right at the spot he was just meant to find - lab 3048. Bingo.

The agent quietly sneaked closer, looking around for security cameras. To his surprise, there was only one, and it only recorded the other end of this hallway. As he walked, he stopped in his tracks right at the large, white door. Was he supposed to just barge in and get attention on himself or what? His hesistation and also his perfectly seamless approach was ruined by his COM ringing, making him hiss out a panicked curse as he quickly spoke to the device, his voice oddly high and quiet.

"Not now, Hunnigan! Not now!!" he pleaded, hearing someone behind the heavy door scrambling frantically. Before his informator even responded, the entrance was swung open by someone.

This encounter had this person fall back to his chair, slumping in it while breathing heavily as a few of the messy documents on his desk were sent flying to the floor.

"Leon, what are you doing here?!" the person shouted, his eyes blown wide.

The agent stood there, not even reaching for his gun with how shocked he was. However, his stunned expression quickly gave way to fury as he stormed to grab the man by his shoulder, pinning him harshly to the desk's corner as he grabbed his firearm and pointed it at his head. The man hissed, his brows furrowing, even though he only flailed a bit to try and squirm away.

"Luis, what the fuck?! Was that whole ordeal staged? Are you still working with that mad woman?! You bad fucking liar, how could you do this," he rasped, his ocean blue eyes piercing into the Spaniard's brown ones in utter rage. His grip on his shoulder never lessened, mercy barely holding onto him by a thread.

Luis Serra Navarro. There he was. Not blown up somewhere in the Valdelobos mine, being remember by Leon as a remarkable example of self fueled redemption and determination. There he was, putting utmost care to working for the very company that ruined many lives, ruined Leon's life, crawling back to eat from their hands like a pathetic bitch. Yes, that's what he is, a bastard mutt that betrayed him.

And yet, a twinge of something bright tugged at his heartstrings. He's alive and well. Right in his arms, just inches between them. This childish hope alongside a whirl of questions flied around his head like a bunch of wild bats, the more regretful and frustrated ones mixed with the more... exciting ones, in a way. Did he miss him? What was he up to? Has he thought about him? How did he stay so sweet?

"Amigo, let me explain-" Luis wheezed out the plea, his expression full of remorse. He yelped quietly, his eyes squeezed shut when Leon only snarled in response.

"I am NOT your amigo. What the hell is that supposed to mean? Is that some sick joke? Was the cash worth more than your honour?" he mocked him sternly, gripping his shoulders until his knuckles were white. Deep inside, he was terrified and basically screaming at himself to drop the gun. He didn't want to shoot, not at him. Betrayed or not, it's still Luis. Very real and very much still himself. His soft brown locks pulled into a tiny bun at the back, the perfectly sunkissed skin, his stubble grown just a little more than usual. Just like he remembered.

"Mi vida, please! I-" the scientist coughed, shaking. He looked like a wet dog, to put it lightly. His state was worrying. The eye bags he normally had were way deeper and darker in hue. His hair was messy and a bit oily. His normally syrupy lips were chapped. Did he really remember them as syrupy? God damn it, but they never kissed. Why was he even thinking like that?!

Sighing, he lowered the gun and slightly lessened the grip on Luis' arm. He nodded at him, although he was moments from snapping again.

"Back in the mines, it was a terrible deal with me. Ada-"

"Of course it's Ada. Is it all her bribery? Don't you have your own mind, your own view?" Leon cut him off with something akin to resentment and sadness in his voice, scowling as he shook the handgun menacingly.

"Sancho, Sancho... don't think about it like that. She paid good money for saving my life. They restored most bodily functions, although my nervous system is still quite, uh, jodido." The Spaniard offered a bashful grin at the last part, hoping to light up the mood. However his next admissions weren't so cheery.

"I'm gonna be straight with you. It was either getting back to working for those bastards, or death and no chance of ever starting over." Luis deadpanned, his head hanging low. He looked ashamed and miserable, his defeated expression making him almost unrecognisable.

Leon's hand trembled as he lowered his weapon down to his waist, then hooked it in its place and came up to engulf his long lost friend in an embrace, earning a loud squeak from him.

"Ay, ay! Careful...!" The brunette whined, a bit surprised, although in a pleasant way. He quickly melted into the clumsy hug, patting his back.

"I'll get you out of here. You'll see." Leon spoke in a hushed tone, repeating reassuring words to his long lost friend, lost love perhaps. He never believed in feelings developing so quickly, yet everything they did together only ensured him that they've got to stick together.

"But-"

"No buts, Luis. Listen, you're better than this. You know you are," Leon whispered against his neck, pressing his cheek against his. He hoped it wasn't too... obvious. It'd be weird if he swung that way. Or if himself did as well. Doesn't he sway there already?...

The Spaniard shuddered, his head spinning. He was truly touched, his hand slowly trailing down to hold the agent by the waist.

"Listen, we can cooperate. I will tell you everything about the project, as I'm sure you're there for our little... cold." He began speaking, his lip all bitten from unease. He was grateful to run into his old mate again, yet the circumstances only reminded him of the time when he was still a fishy creep to Leon.

Leon loosened, pulling away with a confused expression before realisation downed on him, his jaw agape.

"So you're responsible for the COVID-19 outbreak...?"

"No, well, yes, but not quite," The man fumbled, with the hem of his labcoat, looking away.

"I was forced into the project under the threat of my past being exposed to the general public. I wouldn't hired in any other lab. I would probably be turned in for cooperating with terrorists. I didn't want to rot in Alcatraz or some other hellhole, but being cowardly isn't so great either..." He rasped, his voice full of remorse.

The blonde man looked down to his friend's gloved hands, the sterile scent of the lab mingling with his spicy, tangy perfume made him dizzy. In an oddly pleasant way at that. He scoffed quietly, raising the man to his feet.

"Listen, I have a plan. I'll pretend to capture you and deliver you to the US. Then I will convince the president to make you work for the S.T.A.R.S. researcher team."

"So I'll technically be held hostage, is that it...?" Luis sneaked in an uncertain giggle, shooting Leon a worried smile.

"No, dumbass. It's not a bad fate, trust me. I can absolutely get you out of legal consequences. My connections better be useful for once," Leon huffed, giving him a pat on the shoulder. He was determined to save his friend, score in the eyes of Benford, and maybe even...

He bit his lip, turning his head aside stubbornly and grabbing handcuffs from his belt. Luis shot him an alarmed look, but Leon only gave a nod in return and gestured him to stay still.

"Just let me do this. And dramaturgy will be much appreciated," He quipped, coming closer to restrain the brunette man, his hands behind his back now. He let out an indignant huff, shooting him a playful glance.

"Now that's one way to shortcut a date, Sancho."

Leon spluttered, giving him a smack to the hip.

"What- nevermind, let's just go. Pretend you're resisting," he murmured, grabbing Luis' wrists and dragging him to the exit, he also had his pistol ready to open fire, his focused and stern expression back in its full glory.

"Ah-a, there he is. Leon The Professional." Luis chuckled, winking smugly. All he got was a scoff in return, his wrists getting yanked harder.

"Just shut up. I wanna kidnap you properly," he muttered, squeezing the scientist's hands together.

"So much for a compliment..." Luis complained, pouting like a child.

***

The next few hours were a whirlwind of shooting up the damn place, successfully taking out quite a few guards and securing the SARS-COV-2 sample for further information. The other units cheered, shooting mockery at Luis every now and then. The Spaniard clenched his teeth, sitting through the constant jabs to his ego. Leon wasn't exactly pleased either, wishing he could just hold him instead of keeping a hawk's eye on the cuffed man. Hold him? What the fuck? He shook his head, unaware of the fact that a certain brown-eyed Hispanic 'hostage' was returning his concerned, fond gaze.

***

"Kennedy, what were you thinking? Bringing an enemy to the White House, is this some kind of joke?" president Adam Benford lamented, constantly pacing his office as Leon stood there awkwardly, holding his friend by the cuffs firmly yet gently.

"He could be a valuable asset, look at it like that," he began to nervously defend his plea for hiring Luis as the US government's bioweapon researcher, although the words he uttered burned. He didn't like referring to him as an 'asset', not even one bit. It gnawed at him to refer to his be- his friend in such a condescending way.

"Sure, because he knows all about it firsthand." Benford pointed out bitterly, glaring at the sheepish Spaniard before him. His head was hanging low, deep breaths escaping him.

"I... Mister President, I truly want to help. I was blackmailed, and I wish to-"

"Death is a better fate than rotting away in Umbrella HQ!" Benford deadpanned, the following silence hanging so heavy it could fill a deaf person with dread. Luis flinched, his head turning to the side as if he's been slapped.

Leon's brows furrowed, his grip on Luis' hands lessening just a bit. No, he isn't having it.

"You're not wrong, yet you must understand that Doctor Serra isn't a bad man. He was a great comrade back in Valdelobos, and..." He retorted defiantly, not relenting. He was dead set on freeing his friend at all costs.

"He betrayed you, Agent Kennedy. It's not what a good person would be up to." the president spoke with a desperate tinge to his tone, doing his best to just lead his best unit away from such a reckless idea.

"There's something you don't know, though. I was there when COVID-19 was created. It's not as complicated to me, I... I could figure out a vaccine," Luis spoke up at last, his voice scratchy from the scarce use of it for the past ten hours or so.

"In the eyes of a global pandemic and so many casualties so far, you're just now thinking about taking action? Is it remorse, or just a bastardly calculation to save your skin?" the president was seething, his words coming out as a low growl through clenched teeth.

"Adam, come on!" Leon begged, resorting to a first name basis with the representative figure of the United States himself. They are on good terms, sure, yet he's still a higher-up. Not only to him, hell, to everyone.

Benford sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. It wasn't going to be a quick chat, that's for sure.

***

After long debates, weeks of house arrest and special force surveillance on Luis, a decision has been made. He's been assigned to cooperate with doctor Rebecca Chambers, a skilled genius among the S.T.A.R.S. scientists. Beat up, neglected in terms of health, with his old stab wound still restricting his movement somewhat, Leon made it his mini mission to nurse the Spaniard back to health. Well, he had nowhere to go, and he was assigned to look over him, keeping it in his apartment was the wisest choice...

Luis Serra Navarro was a free man who started a new life. Proud of himself and yet still guilty of contributing to the worldwide crisis, he worked like a busy bee to create an optimal kind of vaccine. Doted on and looked after by his amigo, he couldn't help but feel warm inside at the mere though of him. The blonde man's hair was already darkening as he aged, his bushy brows were always furrowed, yet he looked somewhat boyish still. Angelic, if he was allowed to think that. His Italian heritage came as a great surprise to the Spaniard, resulting in light-hearted teasing and playful quips in broken Italian. Luis' jokes sometimes brushed against the thin line between banter and flirting, and while the subject of them was pretty clueless, he did get that weird flutter sometimes.

***

Sitting with his legs crossed by the large window, Luis stared down at the dusky sky, sun setting behind many buildings of Washington DC. He sipped tea, unwinding after a long 24 hour shift of relentless work over the coronavirus shot. Leon was in the middle of cooking up a decent carbonara. His hispanic roommate often scolded for not knowing his way around the kitchen, saying how it's disgraceful for an Italian to suck so bad he could burn water in a kettle. While not letting it show much, the agent's ego was deeply wounded. He was dead set on proving he could replicate the hearty meals from his childhood. Whew, his childhood... Rough and cold, being tossed around and shoved aside as he was born into the Kennedy mafia, confessing it all to Luis was quite the hard candy, to put it lightly.

After twenty minutes of quiet noises reverberating through the small apartment, Leon was slowly stepping closer to his friend's side. Shaking his head, he forced himself to sit on the floor as well. He hated being 'improper' or however he put it, but his beloved's habits felt like the law.

Speaking of which, his eyes lit up at the sight of toasty food and his... saviour, so to speak. He hummed in approval when he sat by his side, nodding and whispering softly.

"Muchas gracias, mi estrella. It smells scrumptious." He smiled fondly, grabbing a fork and taking a bite of fresh carbonara. His eyes widened, and he hummed while shoveling a few more forkfuls of food, much to Leon's amusement.

"Did I improve that much?" he asked in a teasing tone, eating his portion more slowly.

"It's delish, Sancho. You've come a long way, I'm proud of you." Luis sighed in contentment, practically inhaling the food.

His words made Leon's heart stir, a bit of hesistation giving way to a shoot of confidence. He didn't know what got into him all of a sudden. He set his plate on the floor next to them, earning a puzzled hum from the Spaniard. The small noise morphed into a soft yelp when Leon leaned in closer, his forehead pressing against Luis' with his eyes half lidded. They stared deeply into his hazel ones, a low purr escaping him.

"So did you, Don Quixote. I'm proud of you as well," he whispered, his nose brushing against his. The blonde's freshly shaved beard contrasted with the brunette's scruffy stubble, making for a nice completion. Like polar opposites, they gravitated towards eachother. Leon's cold navy eyes were full of this spark that everyone thought was dead and gone.

"Dios mio..." Luis whispered, enamoured and captivated with the sight before him. He took in every small scar, every mole and birthmark, everything about the Adonis' offspring before him.

Leon's hand cupped his face, and he planted a tiny peck on the tip of his nose. It was barely there, yet it held more than just a pleasant gesture. It meant closure. It meant tenderness. It meant something that they both didn't dare to say out loud.

***

Leon was never exactly up for forming a family. He's quite good with kids, also he adores and loves women, sure. Both him and Luis have a reputation of being cheeky and flirty all the time. And yet, this feline magnetism in both of them didn't clash, it merged. With Leon's tenderness that mixed with smugness and Luis' carnal and candid demeanour, they completed eachother. And that's what made it a match made in hell we call our planet.

────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────────

[eternalfrowning]

Hi!! So I've been following your blog since middle school and it's TG days, and now I'm in university for art and you've always been one my biggest art inspirations and muse! So I know this sounds crazy and maybe jealousy-filled and envious, but sometimes I feel like I can never ever reach your level? Like aside from the technical aspects, the way you have mastery over your style, approach to color, "soul" that embodies your art... There's something in it that makes you feel emotion.

Meanwhile I feel like a robot who can only draw and paint technically well, but my art doesn't inspire feelings. It's always the same things with no variation and I'm always scared of getting out of the box and being truly free. Like I'm simply not creative. It's just that no matter how much I improve in art, I feel like it means nothing at the end at all because there's these hard limits regarding creativity set upon me. Even in university, my classmates have so many creative designs but nothing ever comes up in my mind. Do you ever feel like that? How do you get over it?

Hello Anon ! I'll begin by saying thank you so much for your message, and for trusting me with your words and raw feelings about your art journey ; i hope i can be a good listener here, and help you a little..!! im honored my blog has been a part of your path for so long, and still be a place you like today.

(It's a pretty long reply so i cut here!)

Now, to reply directly to your last questions: yes ! I do/did feel like this ! And the 'how to get over it' has no clear answer, it's a personal one, but all these feelings are natural i think, but not absolute, it goes away, it comes back, it becomes minuscule.

It's interesting because what you describe liking about my drawings, are things that is/used to be such difficulty for me, and such fears !! Colors are still a real struggle, and, i'm opening my heart here, because you were kind enough to open yours, i'm always deeply scared my drawing doesn't say anything, i fear it holds no soul, i worry it makes the viewer feel nothing. It's always something in the back of my mind. And i feel no expertise in my techniques! So your enjoyment about my drawings is a very pleasant surprise to me, and a tiny slap in the back of my skull that says : 'chill sometimes!!!! it's okay, you're doing great!!' , and, i hope i won't sound impolite, i'm saying this with tenderness, but maybe that's what you need to hear too !! So i'm saying it to you Anon ! You speak of yourself very harshly, with like a severe sentence over your head that tells you what you're capable of or not, a sword of Damocles awaiting to strike and stop your body from drawing. It's too mean and wrong. Take good care of yourself, it is you who matters most! I had a terribly shitty time in art school, i don't know how is your university, but i hope it's not making you feel bad, i hope it doesn't crush day by day your relationship with your art and with your self. The way you kindly describe your enjoyment about my drawings over the years, and the way you're serious about what you do and what you'd like to do, tells that it is deep to you, that it is something you hold dear ; if i can keep on giving advices here, i think maybe connect again to that, your enjoyment; you like drawing ! Also, i probably just heard one single interesting thing in art school, but it helped : '…it's just line on paper.' At that time, i was having a nervous breakdown in the classroom, the teacher was flabbergasted, and blurted out that to me. I was working on a large format and my mental health was IN THE GUTTER, i felt my life was on the line with every little buildings i was drawing, my whole body was trembling ! But, between very unrespectful and crazy statements, here she was right. We can be serious about what we do, and still remember that it's just lines on paper, pixels on screen. We can go back to it tomorrow, we can erase all of it, it's okay. It doesn't matter as much as us waking up, drinking a good glass of water, drawing a smiley on our skin to cheer us up!

More precisely about what you said about creativity, i had the same feelings in art school, i thought my classmates were so much smarter and creative ! And they ARE brilliant, i met wonderful brains there !! We talked together about how i felt behind, and for example my friend was surprised because they were really admirative about my drawing ! The confusion was mutual haha ! I still feel inadequate sometimes, but we all have our own aspirations and interests, and it's actually so much fun to share, have mutual inspirations, together. Did you talk with classmates you trust about your struggles ? You would be surprised!! It's interesting to hear what other people have to say ! Do you think they feel nothing when looking at your drawings ? Did they say it to you ? Or is it something you believe in the back of your mind only ? And even if they did say something like this to you, did they provide fertile feedbacks ? Also, the fact that art inspires feelings or not, or the fear i talked about earlier that haunts me sometimes..i think we can agree it's so subjective!! Something you love, something you want to cherish all day and keep below your pillow because it makes you feel so much and strongly, can be a complete 'whatever' to someone else aha, and it's just like this, and it's the very same 'something', it's okay, it's good like this actually!

Creativity, from what i understand, is a difficult thing to define and characterize, honestly. But i'd say, while there is this tiny spark of indefiniteness inside a process, the little squeeze in the chest where you feel you're getting something coming up, the bubbly things you want to process and tell in your drawing, it's not all there is to creativity in my opinion! These 'ideas' can be fuel or the sparks in your drawing motor yes, but creativity is most importantly the choices you make ! You said you have technical skills, and improving, and it's this technicality that can guide! A lot of artists think of themselves more as crafter, or even 'robot' sometimes ! It's automatisms over automatisms, choice over choice over choice, to get something as close as possible as the goals we had in mind, as close as what we like or imagine or need. Be rigid! there's nothing wrong with it.

That being said, you mentioned that you're drawing the same things. In what sense ? If you portray the same subjects and you're not happy with it, it could be good to change subjects, draw whatever !! Your interest will spark in space you wouldn't imagine ! And, if it doesn't, coming back to what you know with other things done will revive old flames.

What seems to hold you back is fear (and deep fatigue if i can add this, i'm serious take care of you). We know how much seriousness and love we pour into drawing, it's personal, but it's not a reflection of our self in absolute, it doesnt say anything about you, your value, what you can or can't do. For real, the limits most of the time are on the technical side, and it seems you have this covered, i trust you to ease your brain into trying new things for you, trying things again with an unserious mind also, look at how fun your brush hitting the canvas is, mix mediums, or don't haha! And, if it's difficult to do it 'mindlessly,' once again it's about choices ; 'i deciced the light should hit there because it's the main subject', 'i decided this color meant /thing/ that's why it's there', 'i decided the lines should be thicker because it's a reference to /this/ and it made sense to', You can be very free inside your own box, truly ! You will expand your world without realizing it! I hope i make sense, and didn't say too many stupid things. I talked a lot once again, and a lot about me ouargh but since you asked about my experience, i hope it's okay, and that you can find some points useful to you. For now that's what i can give !

I'll finish all this by saying thank you again, and wishing you all the best in your path, in whatever form it takes. Don't hesitate to contact me again if you feel like it, or to talk about it with classmates and people you trust, and take a step back when needed. You got this!!!

<3

[dragon-in-a-fez]

Hi again dragon-in-a-fez! I have a question. I'm taking a course on childhood abuse and trauma at my college, and it's been a little tense but peaceful. My professor (has a child/developmental psychology PhD) has mentioned that the majority of parents do NOT abuse children, although child abuse is not rare. I did share with him studies of how violent discipline is still common around the world*, and we both agree spanking is obviously abuse. But he still says no, the majority of parents are not abusive, and I can't make general statements.

Today we had a class about sexual abuse and we discussed a little on how we could possibly know or decide what is abuse. We both mentioned if the kid feels discomfort or pain as one criterion, as is the case with spanking. And by that standard also, he mentioned if a parent is giving a child a shower/wiping their butt after pooping, the parent is not abusive if they have to touch the child's genitals but get no sexual pleasure out of it, and the child doesn't feel bad. But then he mentioned how there are things we make kids do that he says are not abusive, like having them do homework or go to bedtime. He then went from there when i asked him about making a child hug/kiss a parent/relative. He said that's totally different from sexual abuse since parents are resoonsible for teaching children socially acceptable behavior and norms. We also mentioned how sexual abuse is defined when it's deemed "inappropriate" (with the implication being that is what society and social norms say).

But i have some problems with my professor's takes, although i admit he knows 100x more than i do. Im just a student. First of all, since when did social norms ever dictate right from wrong? "Socially appropriate" doesn't rqual right, "socially inappropriate" doesn't equal wrong. Second, social norms and the very idea of what is "socially approproate/inappripriate" can be easily weaponized against chilldren. After all, parents/adult control society and are the ones dictating social norms in the first place. For example, like i just said, its still socially appropriate to make kids hug/kiss against their will, as well as to spank them. Its seen as socially inappropriate and bad manners for kids to refuse hugs/kisses. Its socially inappropriate for kids to say fuck or shit, but its socially appropriate to slap or spank kids who say fuck/shit or for any other perceived offense, or make them ingest soap. Its seen as socially inappropriate/impolite to talk about sex, especially with children. Even tho that knowledge could very well save children from abuse.

But anyways, Im no expert, though im still a lil skeptical of what my professor has said. How would you respond, as a professor in children's studies? I look forward to your take on this, and I trust your expertise. Do you think you can cite studies/reports too? I think my professor would be happy to look more into what I've been saying. Thanks for listening!

/*https://publications.aap.org/pediatrics/article/137/3/e20154079/81439/Global-Prevalence-of-Past-year-Violence-Against?autologincheck=redirected

http://globalreport.knowviolenceinchildhood.org/global-report/time-end-violence-childhood/

well, for starters, the last time I saw a survey of parents that asked if they'd ever hit their children, 58% said yes (this was in the UK - it's higher in the US but admittedly my knowledge there is based on older data). so you can't simultaneously acknowledge that hitting children is abuse and believe the majority of parents aren't abusive. like, that's just math. that's one where you can probably find data pretty easily.

the rest of it isn't going to be so data-driven. let me take a step back and explain what I mean.

one of the things I encourage my students to do is challenge how we decide what is child abuse and what isn't. historically, that determination has been made based on a question of whether something will harm development or lead to worse outcomes for a hypothetical future adult. (this goes back to the earliest child protection laws, which were framed as religious duties not to endanger the child's immortal soul.) this is still the way child abuse is often operationalised, as a question of "this thing is abusive if it will make the kid a worse adult in some measurable way".

to me it's obvious that that's bonkers. what we should be doing is defining child abuse the way we define other forms of abuse: as improper treatment of a person, in relation to that person's human rights to dignity, safety, and self-ownership.

I think your professor is probably stuck in that former mindset, and their logic is going something like: we don't have objective evidence that making kids hug people causes lasting harm into adulthood, and culturally we believe it does make kids grow up into adults who can connect with others, so the net impact on development is positive, so it's not abuse.

when someone has that mindset about spanking, it's (comparatively) easy to push back on, because all you need to do is point to decades of strong research evidence that spanking is developmentally harmful. so it's theoretically possible to get them to understand that it's abusive without actually needing to challenge their overall mental framework of abuse.

for something like consent to affection, the counterargument is more difficult. it needs to start with: you have to rethink how you're making your determinations about abuse. you have to see abuse not in terms of developmental harm, but in terms of denial of personhood. for someone who's been mired in a developmentalist view of childhood for a long career, that can be really difficult. I don't know that I have any specific advice - except to remain steadfast in your person-centred framework of how we should treat each other, and understand that you're not wrong and you're not alone.

[fairytaehl]

lgief rewatch ep. 2

continuing my rewatch... i wont repeatedly explain myself every time, and ill provide links to the ones ive already done, probably wont be able to update them since i know ill have to reblog for extra commentary due to the 30img cap limit </3 the episodes will be linked to the fully reviewed ones with all reblogs.

if youd like to discuss lgief, feel free to send me asks, chats, or reply to any of these posts.

ep 1 / ep 2 / ep 3 / ep 4 pre-festival / ep 4 festival / ep 5, 5 part 2 / ep 6

guys. its such a pretty shot. its so minimal and not anything unique but capturing yao through the flowing curtains... ugh. chef's tongue kiss.

i like the juxtaposition here between yao having told him in ep 1 that he was still whining even though he claimed to be hurt, meanwhile yao is saying that in the past fight he never made it a fuss and was fine to move on with their duties, so she should be doing the same. its cute the way they bicker and care for each other. true sibling behavior.

and yes, of course, any time ziqi can mention pushing fuyi out of the picture, he sure will. though yao is right, she doesnt want to overstay their welcome, even if she does need some time to recover. also... yaos voice is so pretty during these lines. i dont know what about it, but her relaxed composure and cosmopolitan nature is just so nice.

loveeeee how he basically reveals his real reason for wanting to stay (not that it doesnt connect right back to yao, but lets be clear, he has a mystery to solve, and asking her to recover was just a coverup) and when yao wants him to elaborate he just walks away to ponder and she sips her tea. how often is he elusive like this that she just lets him speak half-truths and such?

eyes <3 dont look at me like that im shy...

only posting this because his side profile is ruining my life. blah blah jaw so sharp it could cut a man yaddayadda. its true.

im not sharing screenshots of it, but i want to comment on miaomiaos interaction with her dad following this scene. i can only imagine how much it was hurting her to see her dad again, but in this universe where, in the book, hes killed for being a corrupt official. as we see later, she would rather sacrifice herself to spare her dad. its not exactly survivors guilt because she wasnt in harms way back then, but it basically is, and i feel so much for her. she continuously says all these words of wanting him to just be safe, happy, and healthy, and i wonder how much of a burden weighs on the real life miaomiao's shoulders because of this. she felt it was her fault because if she didnt get into a fight, her dad wouldve never been called in the first place, and now all she wants is for him to live well, nagging him about his health and being the concerned daughter he deserved, since he was robbed of that. ugh, my heart... how was lin yu so cruel when she had a father like this?!

her shaking her thumb as she thumbs up is so funny and cute. she's such an excitable and hyperactive person. my adhd queen.

maybe if you didnt mention fuyi like that he wouldnt refuse to drink... but ah, getting scolded by said man is his just desserts. and yao follows suit with a silent look. hes such a chiiiildddddd.

and its so lovely how fuyi drinks yao's cup because shes injured and miaomiao is eating it up because she ships them. buuuut judging ziqi so hard for his impoliteness.

[even she was weirded tf out meme]

going to reach my photo cap soon, and im afraid this episode will require more than one reblog... final version link will be edited in here.

[directdogman]

You say that Randy would disintegrate if he tried to beatbox, is there anything else that would reduce him to dust?

Uh. For science, y’know?

i imagine that any process that would naturally turn a normal human to dust would MORE than work on randy. maybe even much faster.

maybe, like, if you locked him in a REALLY dry wine cellar for a few hours on a really hot day with no water down there. that'd do it, i bet. he'd feel it too impolite to impose on his hosts by cracking open a bottle of their expensive wine and would instead just fall down, groan "ourrrghhh im so parched......" and then waste away like he'd been thanos-snapped. trust me on this one, i can picture it in my head right now

[coolskeleton59]

Hi Parchment!! how are you doing? i hope you're doing well!

i just want to give you a little gift. two of them, i mean.

and sorry if i'm disturbing you or something, i don’t want or mean to be impolite. (i am just not used to send asks to people at all and i feel rather nervous to do so for some reason. that's why im also rambling so much right now, by the way...)

anyways, i drew two little doodles of you while there's nothing much for me to do currently. i really hope you like them!

I LOVE THESE! THANK YOU SO VERY MUCH!!!!

[bwobgames]

Previous First

"Heavens, close the door!!"

"Oh, Im so sorry. I didn't think it would get inside -"

"I understand, but please, stand somewhere else!"

"Ah- yes! Right away!"

" Well, that's a bit funny. I should go back to my snackie business- nevermind he's coming over here."

"Hey, Oliver..."

"This guy is cold, and his eyes are a bit red

Could he have been...

Smoking the devil's grass??? Funny cigarettes?? María and Juana?? Galactic brownies??

Oh, never mind, he just brushed a tear, it was crying. Whoops.

I hope this doesn't get awkward "

"You... by any chance you dont happen to remember me, do you?"

He seems a bit hopeful

"I... I don't know who this guy is.

Did I forget him from somewhere? College, maybe?

He seems to doubt that I remember, I'll just be honest"

"I'm sorry, I don't remember"

"Well, now I feel like a dick"

"Ah, that's fine! I expected it to be honest. It's not your fault"

"So we've met before?"

"Oh, yes, just once, though, so that's probably why you don't remember.

Im... very good at remembering"

He looks away for a bit, something sad passes through his expression

"But, yeah, we've met. I'm a... a..."

"A private detective! Just like you!"

"Wha-! Really?!"

"Yeah! We investigated the same case a while ago, and we talked once, but it was a very stressful investigation, so you probably dont remember. I have been seeing your name in other cases, and, well, I guess I'm a bit of a fan"

"Could it be the case of the ballet dancer?"

"...Yep, exactly"

"Oh, that was such a tiring case! I still can't believe the culprit was the dad all along!"

"Haha, yeah... crazy"

"Did you also go to the region's academy? Or are you from the capital?"

"I'm ... from the capital"

"Aah, this is so exciting!! Another detective? From the capital? A fan of my investigations??? Oh, I hope I'm not bouncing, but there's just so much happy energy in me!"

"Oh, how could I be this impolite? I haven't done the official detective to detective greeting."

"A warm hug between colleagues! The union said so!"

"This guy seems a bit surprised. Has his union not implemented the greeting hug? Maybe things are different in the capital"

"Well, this guy looked like he needed one."

"Huh, usually I'm a bit uncomfortable with physical touch from strangers, but this is nice, must be the bond between fellow professionals!"

"I want to talk to this guy! I should invite him to somewhere more private"