#I hope guts skewers him

[altocat]

I see you posting a lot of berserk tonight. do you ship guts and griffith?

Griffith deserves nothing ❤️

[ninibeingdelulu]

how would megumi confess or act towards the girl he’s secretly getting a crush on? ofc both itadori and kugisaki noticed it, thank uuu

How he act when he have a crush on you ft. megumi fushiguro

a/n: tyy anon for requesting, I love this idea so much >.< .I hope u like it

You've been part of the tight-knit quartet since day one at Jujutsu High, instantly bonding over all the intense craziness you were thrown into as first-years.

Megumi was a bit prickly and standoffish at first, but you were one of the few brave enough to playfully needle him until he cracked a smile.

Over time, Megumi began opening up more around you specifically. There was something innately reassuring about your warm, supportive presence that helped soothe the Fushiguro scion's lingering loneliness and guilt.

Itadori and Kugisaki don't fail to notice how Megumi's eyes linger fractionally longer whenever you laugh or gently tease him.

The faintest hints of pink dust his cheekbones as he drops his usual guarded frown into a rare soft smile reserved only for you.

The merciless teasing quickly commences - Kugisaki makes obnoxious kissy faces every time you enter the room, while Itadori not-so-discreetly shoves Megumi or elbows his ribs whenever you're nearby.

Megumi just grits his teeth, ears burning as he hisses at them to shut up already.

You, forever oblivious, just assume the three friends are goofing around as usual. Turning your bright, curious gaze onto them only makes Megumi's heart stutter harder while Itadori and Kugisaki’s cackles grow louder each time.

Any brief alone moments with Megumi are cherished - like when you grab his arm for balance scrambling out of the fissures after his technique backfires in training.

Your hands linger almost shyly yet still electrified by the contact.

Out of earshot, he vehemently denies everything to Kugisaki's ever-present smirk and Itadori's goading - "just freaking TELL her, dude! Stop being a punk!" But the mere thought of confessing makes Megumi seize up, gut roiling.

Until one day on a mission, a cursed spirit catches you completely off guard with a brutal attack as Megumi can only watch in paralyzed horror.

Moments from being skewered, his fear for your life overrides all restraint as he instinctively summons the full extent of his domain.

By the time Itadori and Kugisaki join him, the twisted creature has literally been crushed into dust.

You're clutched tightly against Megumi's heaving chest as he holds you like his life-force itself.

"Don't ever scare me like that," he growls into your hair, lavender eyes squeezing shut as if in excruciating pain. "I...can't lose you too..."

You freeze, finally realizing what your friends had been seeing all along through new senses electrified by his proximity.

Megumi's heart pounds double-time against his ribs pressed to yours.

Itadori and Kugisaki exchange a loaded look and quietly slip away to give you two some space.

Sure enough, Megumi tilts your chin up with shaking fingers, finally meeting your eyes unflinchingly as the words tumble out in a shaky exhale...

[pumpkinbxtch]

hey queen bean!!! 💛 i wanna start off saying i’m so glad we’re moots HEHEHE <333 i was also hoping if i could request a leo blurb or oneshot maybe like,, a quince night with him?? like maybe he got invited and the reader is like his plus one??

I WENT TO A QUINCE ONCE OF ONE OF MY BEST FRIENDS AND IT WAS THE BEST PARTY IVE EVER BEEN TO i think about it to this DAYYY. LIKE THE FOOD?? delish. THE DANCING OH MY GOSH I WAS DANCING ALL NIGHT

okay i’ll stop rambling 🤲 hope we interact more!!!

sunkisses, sunni! ☼ *. mwuah!

quinceañera night ✧⁠*⁠。

— leo valdez x fem!reader

warnings: language

a/n: Hello, Sunni! I'm also happy that we are mutual, I assure you that sometimes you won't get me out of your comments, lol. Here is this little blurb (I don't know how it turned out, I always write this before, but I hope it's okay 😮‍💨) I love when these things are mixed together because I'm Mexican so, it's my things ig. I'm going to stop rambling too, I hope you like it. 😭 mwuahh.

You were pissed, like, really pissed.

But Leo had invited you to that party, and between your pride and letting him go with someone else? NEVER. So, you ended up with him at the entrance of the party hall, fixing your heels.

The way Leo acted like a total gentleman with you killed you, annoyed you, frustrated you, because he wasn't yours, and you weren't his. That annoyance squeezed your guts, and you bit your lip uncomfortably.

Pretending not to care about not labeling your relationship or that everything could stay the same for a thousand years just to avoid suffocating him with the question was so hard. But you couldn't help but live with the constant fear that someone better than you would snatch away the person you loved the most.

— Ready — he said, giving your heel buckle a final check. He was at your feet with that beaming smile, the way his curls fell from his forehead should be illegal for the way it made your stomach flutter. — Does it feel okay?

You huffed and lightly pushed him with the tip of your shoe, making him lose balance momentarily as you stood up. Leo let out a charming laugh that made warmth spread to your cheeks. You were about to turn around to slap him hard and then kiss him.

He trotted to catch up with you and offered his arm.

— Señorita? —he raised an eyebrow.

— Leo

And you hooked onto him. Even though that had already happened, right?

Oh, damn. YOU NEVER HAD MORE FUN AT A PARTY.

— Let's go, let's have some fun — he sang in your ear. You looked him directly in the eyes, and he winked at you. Leo was already lively on his own, but you had never seen him like this, jumping around and giving playful smiles. He was having a good time, and for both of your sakes, you wanted to enjoy the party too.

Indeed, Leo was actually too happy because he was showing you a side of him that wasn't easy to reveal, not because he had issues with it, but simply because you can't find easily people who enjoy pozole, celebrate quinceañeras, or any festivities the way they did.

— Here — you saw him run from a few meters away to your table and extend a fruit skewered on a stick. You raised an eyebrow for an explanation.

— Jicaleta.

"Jica- what?" but oh, Zeus, it was delicious. You never thought a Jicama on a stick with chili would be such a delicacy.

Leo sat back down next to you and nudged your shoulder to get your attention. The expression on your face wouldn't have changed for a million dollars; the sparkle in your eyes was enough to have him giving you one of those looks that you knew meant trouble, so you decided to ignore it.

—What are you looking at? — You huffed, and before you could fully look away, he cupped your cheek to stop you.

— At you — cooed. He brushed off tiny sugar remnants from the corner of your lips. Those tiny crystals stayed on his thumb, and instead of wiping them on a napkin, he brought them to his mouth, tasting a bit of that sweet flavor. In an attempt to hide your nervousness, you furrowed your brow and wrinkled your nose.

—Ew.

Leo rolled his eyes.

— Oh, come on — he scoffed and kissed you softly. With his plush lips on yours, for a moment, you needed nothing more than this moment.

"The grill is open. You can order your tacos, and there's also barbecue."

But Leo seemed to need more food. And he got up, pulling you by the hand towards the forming line.

— Okay, okay. Try them — you groaned.

— Leo, I've already tried the tacos. I'm not doing anything out of the ordinary. — He repeatedly shook his head, so abrupt that you feared for his neck.

— No, linda — he took a taco from his own plate and held it up like a religious act; you could almost see some heavenly light surrounding the food, but it was probably just the party lights. — This is a real taco, not those sold with hard tortillas!

If only you could keep track of how many times you rolled your eyes. Nevertheless, the person playing an undefined role in your life (who called himself Leo) extended the food for you to try, and you took a bite.

The exquisite flavor made you cover your mouth and raise your eyebrows in surprise.

— Fuck — you said with your mouth full. Leo smiled triumphantly and kissed your cheek.

— I told you. Now, squeeze some lemon on it, squeeze some lemon on it!

Definitely, the most peculiar part for you was when the birthday girl started dancing with her chambelanes¹.

— Why is she dancing to us if it's her birthday?

Leo chuckled, still wrapping his arm around your shoulders and his head slightly resting on yours as you admired the girl changing outfits about five times and dancing various music genres in less than 10 minutes.

“Mordida²! Mordida! Mordida!"

Once again, you looked at him for an explanation. You applauded along with the rhythm but didn't understand why the quinceañera looked so nervous and complained at times.

—She has to take a bite of the cake.

You contorted your face in confusion and looked at her closely. Once the girl leaned slightly over the cake, her brother, mother, and father smashed it onto her, regardless of whether she choked. You felt slightly sorry for her until you saw that amidst all the icing and cream, she was also smiling and laughing brightly.

— Does she know that will be recorded? — you asked, looking at the cameraman who was also smiling at the scene.

— She knows — Leo took your hand and kissed your knuckles. Once again, that knot formed in your stomach, and you discreetly pulled your hand away. Slowly but surely, you were getting tired of his deliberate touch; you liked it, but you couldn't ignore your feelings.

It seemed that the elaborate itinerary of the quinceañera had ended, and only enjoyment remained; people were already on the dance floor or chatting animatedly at the tables while some kids ran around with candies in their hands. You were truly having a good time, and you liked learning more about this side of Leo.

— And? — he leaned towards you, and you leaned back.

— I'm having fun — you admitted and grabbed one of those candies on the centerpieces; it was called "tamborcito," it was so small that it was endearing that it was just a lump of sugar and chili, delicious.

The brunette leaned closer to you, searching your eyes, but you weren't in the mood for that kind of game.

Watching couples dance, kiss, and share a moment of celebration created a bittersweet feeling in you; you longed for something you didn't have. His hand found yours, and when you finally met his eyes, there was hardness in your gaze, the same hardness that pricked Leo's chest, giving him the sensation that something was not right, but what could it be?

— I'm going to the bathroom — you said, snatching the opportunity to avoid his questions. He watched you walk away and sank into his chair, letting out a loud groan. "The way she makes me nervous should be illegal," he thought.

Same thoughts, no communication.

You fixed your makeup a bit, wiped the excess sweat from your forehead, and adjusted your dress. You were glad you didn't have to be selling a wound or planning strategies; you were just a girl with a guy. As you dried your hands, you laughed sarcastically. If only you were his girl; you barely wanted to walk back to him.

You watched Leo from the bathrooms as he seemed to nod his head to the rhythm of the music; he looked so cute that it made you throw a little tantrum, taking advantage that no one saw you.

— Hi — a guy said beside you. You jumped, feeling the blood rush to your cheeks.

In the end, he asked you to dance.

Yes. Not Leo, that guy, and you thought, "screw it, why not?"

The guy smiled widely when you took his hand. If your UNDEFINED relationship with Leo would serve you anything, what better than to take advantage with a cute guy.

Meanwhile, Leo was starting to get impatient. How long could you take in the bathroom? He got up from the table with the intention of looking for you, but seeing you dance on the dance floor made his soul sink to his feet. And dances are VERY different at a quinceañera; sure, there's everything, but DANCING was a very different matter. Leo wouldn't have worried if it had been a cumbia or salsa, but bachata? the way that guy held you by the hips and led you while dancing drove him crazy.

His blood began to boil, and he tried to calm himself to avoid losing control over his powers to prevent himself from igniting. He made his way towards you, dodging people and apologizing until a click in his head made him stop in his tracks. With what right would he snatch you from the arms of that man? If he just remembered friends with benefits were famous because exactly, there was nothing to explain to the other.

Moreover, he observed your face, with a huge smile and your eyes focused on not messing up the next step. The colorful lights illuminated your face beautifully. He clenched his fist and returned to his place.

You hadn't stopped dancing with the guy; he was kind and taught you patiently.

You pouted as you walked through the garden of the hall and saw Leo kicking a rock with the tip of his shoe. There was the problem; no matter how attentive he had been or how good a match he seemed, he wasn't him.

Your friend's shoulders brushed against the branches of a bush, and he abruptly stopped.

— Did you have fun?— he asked with a certain acidity in his voice; you knew what he was getting at, but you didn't want to give it importance.

— Tons — you balanced on one foot as you unfastened your shoe. Leo just nodded with his gaze fixed on the bush as he caressed the foliage with his index finger.

You rolled your eyes and dropped the heel to the ground to unfasten the other one.

— Why that face, Leo? — It wasn't your intention to sound so mocking, but you couldn't help but feel a certain pleasure in his jealousy. He gave you a scowling look and huffed.

— I'm not making any face — he tore off the leaf and burned it in his hands. Jealousy was eating him alive.

— If you say so — you pulled a piece of paper from the bag hidden in your dress and smiled.

The guy tore another branch forcefully when he saw you smile and extended his hand, taking the piece of paper from you.

— Hey!

— Did he give you his number?

— And what if he did?

He inhaled loudly and felt pathetic. It was true. He returned it to you, still annoyed, and sat on the edge of the planter as you finished taking off your shoe. Both palms resting on his cheeks with that grumpy expression.

— I have something to say — he said once three seconds had passed, which for him felt like an eternity. You rolled your eyes again and put your hand on your hip, dropping the other heel. You were already barefoot on the pavement.

— What?

— I like you.

You softened your expression, replacing it with one of confusion.

— What?

— I like you, I love you — Leo looked up and gave you a flat, resigned smile.

— Like... what?

Leo scratched the back of his neck and straightened up.

— I like you, I love you, let's be boyfriend and girlfriend.

He thought it had been a great way to declare his feelings, but instead, you crumpled the piece of paper with the guy's number and threw it at his face, poking his left eye.

— Auch!

— Dumbass

And you held back a sob. It was so unfair. He seemed to read your thoughts and stood up.

— Okay, okay, okay. Wait, don't look — he took you by the shoulders and turned you around so you faced away. You heard the leaves rustle and some twigs snap; when he reappeared in your sight, he had his hair tousled and some bougainvillea branches in his hand. His eyes pleading and nibbling lightly on his lips. — Can we finally be together and stop with the nonsense once and for all because I can't stand seeing you with someone else, and besides, you're my best friend? Come on, say yesss

You couldn't hold that serious image for long. You threw yourself into his arms and kissed him on the cheek, for the first time confident.

— You're an idiot.

— I'll take that as a yes.

You nodded frantically and kissed him, this time on the lips, with such force that your red lipstick left a mark on him.

— Damn, finally — Leo celebrated and lifted you in a bridal style, making you scream with happiness. He leaned down with you to tangle the straps of your heels on his fingers and set off towards the car. — I'll take you home.

You raised both arms as if you were on a roller coaster. smiled ecstatically, with flushed cheeks. — Take me home!

¹ chambelanes: are the dancers who the quinceañera, usually they're a mix of family, professionals and the boyfriend.

² mordida: bite

[steddieas-shegoes]

Request

This request came in on my other blog from @mogami-13 and somewhere along the way it ended up deleted from my inbox there. I'm glad I had already copied it into a word doc, so hopefully you see it! It isn't quite the quote you were probably thinking, but I had to make it work for this situation, so I hope you like it still! Prompt: If you are still doing the asks, I just had a brilliant idea. So you know at the end of legally blonde where Elle brings up the rules of hair care? I need that quote with a Steve rescuing Eddie and Dustin from the bat tornado with a lighter and hairspray…

---------------------------------------------------

There was no way they’d win.

Steve realized it the moment he was being choked by vines against the wall of the Creel house.

But they had to at least get out alive so they could all regroup.

When the vines suddenly let them go, Steve had a sinking feeling in his gut that someone had done something stupid.

That someone had lost.

“We have to go!” he yelled to Robin and Nancy, hoping they would follow him quickly.

They didn’t have time. They may have already run out of it.

—-------------------------------------------

Running into the trailer park confirmed some of what Steve was thinking.

The bats were circling something, someone, and he already had a terrible gut feeling that that someone was Eddie.

That Eddie would have never let Dustin be in this position.

That Eddie was going to die.

He could hear him yelling, damn near screaming as the bats continued to dive towards him.

Steve couldn’t quite make out his entire body, but saw him desperately trying to stab at them with his homemade spear.

“Find Dustin,” Steve said to Robin. He turned to Nancy. “Use every bullet you have left on these things.”

“What are you gonna do?” she asked as Robin rushed towards the trailer that had been mostly boarded up.

“The bat is all I’ve got, but it’s better than letting him do this alone.”

They were missing fire.

They needed fire.

“Eddie!” Steve yelled as he got closer, smacking a bat midair when it tried to attack him.

“Steve, go! Just get out!” Eddie yelled back, sounding completely terrified.

“You’re not doing something stupid on my watch!” Steve yelled back.

The fight turned into a blur as he heard a handful of gunshots go off, a few bats falling, but still alive.

Eddie had managed to skewer one on his spear, but while he tried to fling it off, another one started wrapping itself around his middle.

Eddie’s scream echoed through the trailer park, and Steve froze.

That was a scream that happened right before death, right before someone’s last moments.

Steve wasn’t letting that happen.

“I’m out!” Nancy yelled.

“Go find hairspray and a lighter!” Steve yelled as he managed to beat two more bats away from him and Eddie.

He knew Nancy hated taking orders, but he also knew she was smart enough to know they didn’t have time to question anything.

They were used to working through emergencies with very few resources, with their plans not working.

“Steve!”

Steve would never forget the way Eddie yelled his name.

It was like he used what little remaining energy he had, like he was asking for help while knowing it was already too late.

Steve saw a flash of something out of the corner of his eyes, movement by the trailer that could have been more bats or could have been Nancy coming to help.

“Eddie, don’t give up, please,” Steve begged as he swung his bat. “Dustin would never forgive you. I would never forgive you.”

Maybe it was harsh, maybe he could have said something else to get him to keep fighting, but he knew it had to be at least a little effective when he saw another bat get speared on his stick.

His arms were getting tired, and he knew Eddie’s must have been too.

“Found some!” Nancy yelled to them.

Steve ran towards her, not wanting to waste any time waiting for her to get to them and risk the bats taking a bite out of her, too.

It was a large can of hairspray, thank God, but it wasn’t completely full, which meant he needed to use it sparingly.

He held up the lighter and the hairspray, pointed towards the bats, and started to spray.

The first few bats fell quickly, shriveling up a bit as the flames ate at their skin.

But he couldn’t quite get to all of them.

He kept spraying a path to Eddie, needed to at least get everyone back into the trailer to go through the gate.

Eddie was on his knees, blood on his face and hands, struggling to keep the spear up, already dropping his makeshift shield.

He was pale, and Steve could tell just from the quick glance he gave that he would die down here if they didn’t move much faster.

“Nancy, I need you to walk Eddie to the trailer while I spray. Do you have any bullets left?”

“No, gun’s jammed,” she said.

���Of course it is,” he sighed. “Alright, help him up, I’ve got your back.”

Being down here was about trust, something that Steve didn’t have much of with Nancy, but it wasn’t an option right now.

It was trust each other or die.

It wasn’t easy; Eddie was already weak and continued to get weaker every moment. Nancy was doing all she could to keep him upright and moving forward.

Steve was using up all of the hairspray just trying to keep the bats away from them as they moved to the trailer.

He could tell he was running out, knew they wouldn’t quite have enough at their current pace.

He needed to switch with Nancy and carry Eddie or they’d all end up dead.

“Nance, need you to take this and I’ll take Eddie.”

Again, she trusted him. She didn’t argue, she just grabbed the lighter from him, nudged Eddie over to him, and grabbed the hairspray.

It went much faster with Eddie on his back.

Steve had to ignore the pained groans leaving Eddie’s mouth every time he got jostled, knew if he stopped now, they’d never make it.

“He’s bleeding!” Dustin yelled when they got inside.

“Go, Dustin!” Steve yelled as he heard Nancy shut the door.

It wouldn’t hold for long, and it would take some time to get Eddie through the gate.

“No, not without him.”

“Dustin, go, man,” Eddie said from over Steve’s shoulder.

His voice sounded weak, wet, like he was slowly swallowing his own blood.

Nancy pushed Dustin onto the chair and between her and Robin, they managed to get him through.

Robin went next, knew an adult would need to be on the other side to help catch Eddie.

“Steve, his eyes are closed,” Nancy whispered to him before trying to help him readjust in his arms to get him through the gate.

“Eds, stay with us. We’re so close,” Steve begged, not stopping his movements.

“Steve…” Nancy said, her hand on Eddie’s wrist.

“No! No, Nancy, he’ll be fine. Just help me get him through.”

She wordlessly helped keep Steve stable as he got on the chair.

Eddie’s blood was all over him, but he wasn’t going to stop.

Eddie wasn’t breathing, but he couldn’t let him stay here.

“See you on the other side, Eds.”

—----------------------------------------------

The hospital room was empty except for Wayne in the corner, sleeping.

Steve refused to leave until Eddie woke up, so he was sitting by his bedside, hand on Eddie’s in case he woke up.

He hadn’t slept in the near 24 hours since they brought him here, hadn’t even gotten up to clean off in the bathroom in Eddie’s hospital room.

He was gross, and he knew the smell coming off of him was enough to make someone gag, but he wouldn’t leave.

He promised he wouldn’t leave him.

“You look like shit,” a raspy voice said.

Steve’s eyes zeroed in on where Eddie was smirking at him, eyes barely open.

“You and me both,” Steve said breathlessly.

“Well, my excuse is I almost died.”

Steve rolled his eyes, but bit back a sob.

“Wouldn’t have let that happen, Eds.”

Eddie searched his face for a moment before closing his eyes.

“Most romantic thing someone’s ever done for me, ya know,” he whispered.

“What?”

“Using hairspray and a lighter to save my life. How’d you know to do that?”

“The rules of haircare are simple: keep hairspray away from open flames unless you want fire,” Steve shrugged. “Was that really the most romantic thing someone’s done for you?”

“It’s tied with staying by my bedside until I wake up.”

Steve blushed.

“It’s alright, Stevie. I know you don’t mean it like that. Go home and rest,” Eddie said, sinking further into his pillow.

“What if I did mean it like that?”

Eddie’s eyes shot open.

“What?”

“Thought maybe we could go to the diner when you get out of this place. Sound okay?”

Eddie blinked slowly, his eyes still never fully opening from the drug induced haze.

“Eds?”

“Uh. Yep. We can do that.”

“Awesome.” Steve squeezed his hand once. “Oh, and if it’s okay with you, I think I’d like to kiss you when you’re awake next time. Just to make sure you know we’re on the same page.”

“Uh. Okay.”

“Cool.”

“Cool.”

Eddie slipped back into unconsciousness a minute later, and Steve finally let himself relax a little.

They may not have left with a total win, but he was leaving with a date.

[angel-of-the-moons]

May I request Mk 11 Mileena angst please?

Timelost

Mileena x Reader

TW/CW: Angst, death, Mileena's tendency to be feral af, graphic violence

MINORS DNI I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR CONTENT YOU CONSUME

A/N: Okay this one is gonna be short but I came up with a perfect scenario--

😈😈😈😈😈😈😈😈😈😈

Mileena snarled as she climbed off of the shredded carcass of one of Earthrealm's champions. Some blonde human woman wearing a Special Forces uniform. She didn't care, her blood and viscera tasted sweet; even as she wiped the excess from her fanged maw.

The battle was going well, over half of the pitiful army that Raiden and his entourage had assembled lay dead on the battlefield.

The buzz of the adrenaline she felt heightened her euphoria as she turned to see you flip your pike around and skewer that pathetic Johnny Cage as he howled in grief. Apparently, the female Mileena had just disemboweled was his daughter, Cassie. The sight of the blood splashing from him as his intestines fell into his own hands coated you in a beautiful shade of red, making Mileena's heart stutter within her chest.

You were like some primal god of violence and death, a flurry of kicks, flips, and death-dealing blows as you annihilate each target you set yourself to.

"Mileena." Kitana's voice spat from behind her.

"Ssssssister..." Mileena drawled, twirling to face her.

Kitana scowled from behind her mask, readying her bladed fans with a flourish. "You are a disgusting facsimile, nothing more."

"Hahaha!" Mileena cackled, pulling her sais from Cassie Cage's warm, bleeding corpse. "I wanted us to be a family... But I don't see us braiding each other's hair anytime soon."

"Never, Mileena." Kitana growled, her clone's name dripping from her lips like foul poison.

The two women moved like lightning, metal clashing, blades slicing deep enough to cut but not seriously wound, they moved in a violent, macabre dance that was only put to a pause when Kitana landed a very lucky kick to her gut, knocking the wind from her and sending her flying into a foot soldier.

Kitana climbed a top Mileena and grabbed her by the hair, pressing the sharp side of her fan blade to her clone's throat after pinning her arms behind her. "Look at what your mindless violence and hubris has brought, Mileena! Look!"

Mileena's golden eyes glared angrily at the scene in front of her, her heart sinking with horror at what she was witnessing. The former Revenant Scorpion and Kuai Liang began swiping at you with their weapons; Scorpion with his sword and Kuai Liang with his frozen scythes.

You were holding your ground, but that territory slipped with each swipe and parry of your pike, each kick that knocked you off balance.

The worst had yet to come; that final blow, dealt by both Earthrealmers in unison--Scorpion's sword to your chest and one of Kuai Liang's scythes to your gut, your blood spurting in a way that Mileena would normally have found ethereal... had it not been coming from you, her greatest treasure.

"Look at what you've done, Mileena. The senseless deaths because of you." Kitana snarled. "See what mother and Shao Kahn's madness has--"

Mileena couldn't hear her "sister" any longer. She couldn't hear her lecture or heroic speech. All she saw was red at the edges of her vision as time seemed to slow down.

She wrenched her arms free, tipping her head down to dig her fangs into Kitana's arm, her blood tasting foul on her tongue as she shredded veins, muscle and sinew; severing the offending limb with haste as she yanked her fan from her flying palm.

Mileena spun around as Kitana clutched her bleeding stump, crying and sobbing in pain as she desperately tried to stop her spurting blood flow. She raised the pointed end of the fan as Kitana looked up at her, and plunged it into her skull as far as she possibly could, leaning down to tear out her throat with her teeth for added measure.

She turned around, mad with rage, a part of her hoping--praying--that maybe she could save you, force one of their magic-wielding lackeys to heal you before it was too late...

But the way you lay limp on the blood-stained ground, your murderers standing above you, told her otherwise.

And once again, Mileena lunged.

Once their remains lay shredded and scattered at her feet, Mileena stumbled towards you, sobbing hysterically as she dropped to her knees at your side. Her hands clenched and unclenched aimlessly as she looked down at your bloodied corpse, your lifeless hands clutching at the wound to your abdomen as dead, lightless eyes stared widely up at the sky.

She ripped at her hair, tearing bloody chunks of it from her scalp before she clutched at your dead body, rocking back and forth as the battle raged on around her.

At some point, she could hear Shao Kahn's victorious cry. The Titan Kronika was dead, the Hourglass was won; Liu Kang lay dead at he and Sindel's feet. Shang Tsung disemboweled like hunted game.

But none of that mattered, now.

Only you, and the beautiful voice Mileena may never hear say her name again.

[pink-november]

hey are you still doing the character ask game? because i would like to know your thoughts on the voice of the skeptic

i hope you're referring to this ask game or this is going to be really embarrassing /j

anyways, one voice of the skeptic coming right up!

First impression

Ugh, I don't remember if I saw him during the Eye of the Needle or during Den first but I do know I did Prisoner last during my gameplay. He didn't make that much of an impression on me at first, mostly because I went "Oh, he's the logical one. Got the big brother vibes. Neat. 6/10"

Impression now

Oh. He's heart-stopping. Literally. Wow, he's the only voice who did that to us because he wants the best for us and knows that the endless void The Narrator promised us is utter bullshit. He's such a calming presence to someone like Hunted in Den and would take on Stubborn's recklessness and guide that energy to something that can benefit them. He holds the braincell during The Prisoner and I love how he calmly handles the situation there and how much The Drowned Grey frazzled him out so badly. And now with the Pristine Cut looming in the corner, I'm so excited for what horrors Skeptic is gonna face with Prisoner's new Chapter III and his potential dynamics with the other Voices.

Favorite moment

The wink. Wink. This absolute goofball. He literally got that straight face while telling someone a funny joke. Just like me fr. Also love how he goes, "None of this is working! Think. Think!" in Razor cuz my man, you cannot possible hope to reason or outhink your way out of this absolutely normal princess. She skewers you.

Ah, but we can't forget his line in Moment of Clarity, "Can we love something that hates us? Can we love something that hurts us?" It hurts my heart so much to hear him say that ough TwT literally best line in the entire Moment of Clarity. There's just something about this question that makes me itch. Like it's on brand for him to sound skeptical and prod at Smitten's statement before this but I feel like there's some sort of a desperate hope to it too, like he wants to trust and love someone like the princess but had been broken down too much to even attempt trying at this point. And oof, this is gonna go to headcanon territory so I'll stop.

Idea for a story

Since the game hadn't explored much of Skeptic and Smitten's dynamic at this point (Pristine Cut prove me wrong), I think a simple story about them just talking out their feelings and perspectives on the Princess is something I want to do at some point. They're literally parallels in-game, two sides of the same coin, trust and skepticism is very prevalent in their routes, and even their Princess share the same Chapter Three (and Cold)! I want to write something that both questions their nature but at the same time proves them right about their relationships with the Princess and with each other.

Unpopular Opinion

I... don't think I've seen an unpopular opinion about Skeptic tbh... which is good I suppose 😅 (nor do I have one that might be considered unpopular)

Favorite relationship

Oh, definitely Opportunist. Or Contrarian. Either put Skeptic into a wringer trying to decipher and remove Opportunist's many masks or put him in a state of absolute befuddlement trying to understand Contrarian's cartoon logic. It sounds fun. Oh wait even better. He has two hands, he can hold both Oppy and Contra. Too bad he's the one being stringed alongside their shenanigans.

Also... guts trio. What can I say? You gotta love Skeptic and Stubborn and Hunted whenever they're together <333

Favorite headcanon

He's as much as a romantic as Smitten. Just goes about it logically. If there's one thing he never doubts, it's his feelings. He's loyal and his trust is one of the most precious thing you can receive because he will unfailingly stick by you no matter the odds or dangers. He can be a bit of a mess when things go unexpectedly and he might have a hard time navigating when his emotions overrides his reasoning and he might get decision paralysis when he knows he's not thinking clearly and can't bear the results of whatever choice he'll make because of it. He doesn't quite repress himself but it's more like he won't act upon them unless he's absolute certain he covered all his bases and knows all the possible causes to the effects he's feeling.

[snowbellewells]

Belated Birthday Fic for @jrob64

Joni (@jrob64) this is long overdue now, and probably not worth the waiting you've done for it, but I still wanted to give you the story I wrote for your birthday. It takes place in Season 2, after Emma leaves Hook on the beanstalk, but diverges in that Hook carches up with the Savior and the rest of the Princess squad again without Cora. There's some mentioned whump and I hope plenty of hurt/comfort (since you and I both enjoy that so! ;) And I hope you'll still like it, even though it's now well past your birthday. I am so glad we are friends and that this OTP and fandom lead us to meet and get to know each other!

“Consequences”

by: @snowbellewells

The logs and twigs they’d gathered for their campfire were crackling mightily, releasing occasional pops when sap ignited, but giving off the light and heat their weary and mismatched group needed as they wordlessly gathered on a fallen stump and large rock nearby. None of the women spoke. Exhausted and worried, and still not fully trusting of each other, they merely watched as Mary Margaret spun the rabbit she’d brought back for supper on the spit they had rigged up over the fire and listened as Mulan finished assembling the tent they’d soon crawl into once they had eaten at last.

This wilderness was about the furthest thing from an “Enchanted” Forest that Emma could have conjured in her naive 21st century mind, but she was simply too drained to point out the irony to either her mother - she wasn’t even ready to apply that term to her friend and roommate yet - or honest-to-goodness freaking Sleeping Beauty. And it didn’t help that she kept hearing Hook’s voice echoing in her ears, the hurt and shocked betrayal in his tone - and in those dangerously expressive eyes - as he’d pled with her, ‘Have I told you a lie? Why do this to me now?’ She had the sinking feeling that no matter how tired her body might be, when she lay her head down tonight, she wouldn’t be able to sleep for seeing his face as it had looked when she had turned away on the back of her eyelids, and her guilt at leaving him chained atop the beanstalk gnawing at her insides.

Shaking her head clear, Emma reminded herself once again that Hook had been in league with Cora; they had no proof but his word, her gut feeling, and her superpower no one else believed, that he wasn’t still working for the witch against them. She’d done the right thing, Emma savagely scolded her yammering conscience. Nothing was worth the risk of not getting back to Henry - or even worse, seeing Regina’s evil mother find her way to where Henry was. Certainly not a piercing-eyed pirate who seemed to see right through her and make her squirm doing it.

With a nod and murmur of thanks, she took the portion of roasted meat offered to her on a makeshift skewer and nibbled at it gingerly. It might just be that she was famished and too tired to be picky, but it tasted better than expected. Emma was swallowing her second bite, when noise caught her attention from the nearby treeline. She jerked upright, immediately on guard; her state of near-slumber shattered and all her nerves jangling with alarm. Her eyes met Mary Margaret’s as her mother reached for her bow and Emma stood with fists clenched, ready to defend them however she could, whether her gun was any use out here or not. Mulan had abandoned the tent at the sound as well, smoothly drawing her sword and facing the trees in front of them like a deadly sentinel.

The noise of heavy footsteps smashing through the underbrush grew nearer and louder; branches snapped, heavy, gasping breaths were heard, and Emma could only square her shoulders and wait for whatever new foe was coming forth to show itself.

What she wasn’t expecting - and what tore a harsh gasp from her throat on sight - was for Hook to stumble dazedly out of the woods toward them, momentarily leaning against a tree trunk to steady himself, his face obviously bloody and his clothing torn. He took a couple more weaving steps toward them before the toe of his boot caught a root that sent him sprawling face down in the dirt at their feet. And he didn’t get up. Didn’t move or speak. Emma was rushing forward in spite of herself before she could think better of it. Her mother called for her to be careful, and Mulan’s stern face cautioned it could be a ploy, but she paid neither of them much heed.

He still hadn’t moved, and he looked even worse close up. He’d been hurt. Badly. Surely Anton wouldn’t have…  This wasn’t what she had wanted. Was this her fault?

Crouching, Emma tried to shake Hook gently, to stir him back into wakefulness. A groan escaped him breathily, which shouldn’t have relieved her nearly as much as it did. There was nothing for it but to roll him over onto his back. At least then she could see his face and assess the damage.

But when she did, her breath caught a second time, choking up somewhere between her throat and her lungs. She couldn’t imagine there had been many times in the life of Captain Killian Jones when this could be said of him, but he looked terrible. His lower lip was busted, with rusty remnants of dried blood staining where they had trailed down his chin. One eye was swollen nearly shut, and the other was bleary to the point that she wondered how he had made his way to them through the dark. A large gash that had barely closed showed beneath the disheveled dark fringe on his forehead. Dark, purpled bruises and nasty scrapes mottled the skin of his face, neck and collar nearly everywhere she could see. Though she would have never admitted it aloud, Hook’s usually flawless countenance was horribly altered by whatever had happened to him. The shadows darkening his usual mischievious sparkle and daring turned her stomach in a way she couldn't begin to explain.

He struggled to raise his head slightly and blinked up at her as best he could through the usable slit of his eye. “Ah Swan, caught up to you, didn’t I?” he jested brokenly, somehow still teasing her through what must be immense pain.

Tilting her head to study him, Emma struggled to look unamused while inexplicably aching to place a hand to his forehead, brush back the matted hair there, and offer some modicum of comfort. Her fingers moved almost of their own accord, hovering just barely over his cheek before hesitating and pulling back, tingling at their proximity even as she resisted making contact. There didn’t appear to be a single place on him that wasn’t battered and wouldn’t cause him more pain if she tried to touch.

As if reading her concern, Hook shifted restlessly, attempting to lever himself upright and then falling back with a wince and guttural moan of protest. She also noticed for the first time how tightly he kept his hook arm pressed to his side, not sure if the injury was to the arm itself or if he were shielding his stomach or ribs, but it ratcheted her worry for him that much higher. Not certain what to do for him, or what to say, her usual half-annoyed bantering retorts fled her the longer she witnessed his vulnerability. Emma finally settled on simply answering his question, and asking one of her own. “It would appear you’ve caught me,” she acknowledged, then added softer, “But why?”

Huffing out a weary breath, Killian didn’t look at her as he barely shook his head, the motion seeming to express that he didn’t quite know himself. “I guess because, double cross and all, Lass, you lot are the safest choice for company of my rather limited options.”

Emma flushed with embarrassment at his casual mention of what she’d done. Her cheeks burned, knowing the man who lay before her could surely see how she’d colored at the reminder and could only hope that his current state made him less sharply observant than usual. That she hadn’t trusted him or the brief alliance they’d made shamed her, and then made her angry for feeling ashamed. She’d been burned before, and had learned to be more wary. That she had wanted to believe him, and had silently agreed when he’d called them quite a team, had only made her more anxious to leave him behind, to flee before he turned on her and she was left in the dust herself. Pushing the conflicting emotions aside, she tried another tack instead. “But what happene to you? How did…? Surely Anton didn’t…?”  She was tripping over her words now, flustered and chiding herself as she shook her head in frustration.

Biting her tongue until she could regain control, her eyes flew to her hand when Killian used his to clasp it and gain her attention. Though his fingers were trembling with the effort, he held on and answered her slowly. “No, that wasn’t the work of your giant admirer. Your new friend released me once the time you requested of him had passed. Bloody gargantuan numbskull threatened me to leave you in peace, but he didn’t do this damage.”

Emma exhaled air she’d hardly realized she was holding. It didn’t make things right between them, but she was grateful that she hadn’t misjudged Anton’s nature and directly caused the torture Hook had clearly undergone. “But then, who?” she whispered, finally daring to squeeze the hand that held hers in return, while at last reaching out and smoothing a light caress over his brow.

He flinched slightly at the initial contact, but then his eyes fell closed momentarily with a sigh of relief. Emma had to know, though the only other option she could think of had dread settling in her belly like stone. “Who did this to you?” she choked.

“Why Cora, of course,” he intoned, trying to appear either flippant or matter of fact and failing with the shadows that passed over his expression. “Not honestly sure why she didn’t finish the job, unless she thought she had and this old body is just too stubborn to give up the ghost.” He drew in a ragged breath before adding, “At any rate, after letting me know that she would leave me here, unable to ever gain my vengeance on Rumplestiltskin, she made certain she had demonstrated the consequences of choosing to align myself against her.”

By this point, his breathing had grown shallow and labored once more with the effort of speaking. Shushing him with a plea to rest, Emma was eager to check with the others about anything they might be able to do for his injuries. He certainly didn’t need her to keep him talking as she was. Pressing trembling lips together, Emma dashed away the single drop of moisture that had escaped her eye and laid his hand tenderly back on his chest. “Well, thankfully, Cora counted her win a bit too soon. Let’s see if we can help you live to fight another day.”

His unfairly long lashes fluttered, and a small, soft chuckle broke from his cracked lips, but Killian seemd to be rapidly giving up the fight to remain lucid. Emma wasn’t sure whether that was good or bad while they tried to tend to his wounds, but she had to do something. She wasn’t going to desert him again.

****************************************

When his eyes fluttered open some time later, Killian Jones found himself dazed and dizzy, then almost nauseous, with his throat parched and dry. Panic followed almost immediately as he struggled to gain his bearings and found himself weak as a newborn kitten, floundering even to sit up unaided. He could not have said whether it had been minutes, hours, or days since he was last aware of his surroundings, but just as he was not sure how much time had passed, he was also vaguely uncertain of where he was and whether or not he was alone - an even more disturbing condition.

His mind was reeling as he attempted to move, scrabbling around over the dry, dusty ground with his good hand in a frantic search for his cutlass. Surely he must have left it within reach. He had learned long ago, even as the captain of a mostly loyal pirate crew, that enemies were varied and numerous, and that he must never let his guard down without a weapon close at hand. He had a jagged, long-healed gash running under his ribs, which Smee had tried his best - if rather crookedly - to sew closed, but which had taught him that lesson all too well.

With a frenzied sound of frustration in his throat, Killian kept fighting to sit upright, ready to defend himself against some unknown foe, only to have hands grip his upper arms tightly, pressing him back and forcing him to remain on the ground. “Unhand me, you blackguard!” he growled, only to have his vision finally regain focus and the fight abruptly drain from his limbs when he found himself staring up at Emma Swan hovering over him, her touch the one keeping him in place.

“Easy there, Hook,” she chided, loosening her grip as he stilled and grew calmer upon seeing he was not under immediate attack. “You’ve got to settle down, or you’ll hurt yourself even more. We tried to stitch the deepest of your cuts and bandage you up. Don’t undo it all!”

She was fussing over him, Killian realized belatedly, his hazy and addled mind slowly filling in the blanks he had missed. She might be scolding and grumbling as she did so, but she was still frightened for his well-being and more concerned for his comfort than he would have dared imagine possible.

He had known there was a frisson of energy that flowed between them when he’d taken her hand in the giant’s lair, cleansing and caring for the cut on her palm despite her stubbornly self-effacing protests. And he really hadn’t thought he was imagining the way she’d held her breath and her pupils had dilated when he’d eyed her daringly while tying off the bandage with his teeth. Still, he’d been hesitant to place too much fatih in what he was reading from her either. Emma Swan was overly guarded and used to being on her own. Someone had obviously hurt her deeply enough to make her push everyone else away in response. Not only that, but she was an actual royal - the daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming, no less - and the fabled Savior besides. Her light was much too pure and bright to be aligned with his dark and tarnished pirate soul set on vengeance.

All the same, he had cursed himself as seven times a fool when his heart plummeted at her turning and running from him on the beanstalk. He had held out a little hope for them, in spite of his better judgement, or he would not have been so hurt by the betrayal. She was as full of shining enticement, from her flowing golden hair to her sparkling jade eyes, as any buried treasure. He couldn’t help wanting to stay by her side.

As Emma slowly moved to support him, helping him ease into a sitting position while bracing him against her own hip and shoulder, she offered him a water skin and held it up so he could take a much-needed cool drink of water. Killian was stunned to realize that maybe winning her over wasn’t as lost a cause as he had thought. Perhaps Emma Swan already cared more than she wanted to allow herself, and against her own good sense - much as he had found himself doing.

Several quiet moments passed before Killian fully registered that all was still and motionless around them. It was full dark now; the middle of the night, or perhaps early morning, if his view of the moon was accurate, yet he could hear no movements or voice’s from Emma’s royal, bandit, or warrior companions. The fire next to them was dimmed to near embers, and it seemed for the moment as if he and Emma were the only two people under the brilliant array of stars overhead.

Now that he had his bearings and his thirst was slaked, he ventured a glance beyond his lovely blonde Savior’s beguiling face, at least far enough to see that a rough tent had been staked and three bed rolls were occupied beneath its temporary shelter, explaining their privacy, but raising even more questions. Why were the rest of them willing to lower their guard enough to sleep with a virtual stranger and former enemy in their camp? It had been hard to miss the warning and distrust in the Lady Snow’s eyes, at any rate - probably largely protectiveness for her daughter, but still, why grant him this sort of uninterrupted interlude with Emma then? He was clearly in poor shape; maybe they had reckoned he couldn’t do anything to harm them, or charm Emma too thoroughly, as injured as he was.

Killian was abruptly startled from his wandering thoughts when he once more felt the cool, soothing touch of Emma’s fingertips trailing up the side of his face and into his hair. She raked the dark strands back from his fevered skin, calming even the pounding that pained him from the magical beating he’d endured and the rough impact his head had suffered when Cora finally dropped his battered body to the hard ground and left him for dead.

The Enchanted Forest’s lost princess spoke so quietly he had to strain to hear her when she addressed him again, her eyes studiously avoiding his to observe her fingers carding through the mussed, blood-caked strands of his hair. “I’m sorry… truly, I am. It was wrong of me to leave you behind the way I did, and… I should have trusted you. You may be a pirate, and awfully full of yourself, and way too flirty for your own good…” 

At that, Killian attempted to waggle an eyebrow and smirk salaciously to make her smile, only for a cringe to escape him at the motion of his brow and lip.

She noticed, of course, and rather than admonishing that it served him right, as she would have usually done, Emma hissed in sympathy and hushed him with a gentle hum in the back of her throat. “See, this shouldn’t have happened to you, Ho - Killian.” Her switch from his moniker to his real name struck him right in the center of the chest, with as much emphasis as a physical blow. He couldn’t decide if her concern, guilt, and contrition more warmed his heart or troubled him - not wanting to win her over out of mere pity. “That witch only caught up to you, found you empty-handed, because of what I did. This is my fault… b-but… I never wanted you to be hurt like this. I only wanted a head start, to get back to my son.”

If he hadn’t been shocked to his core already, the depth of emotion in Swan’s voice as she made her confession would have been enough to bowl him over. It sounded as though she might be on the verge of tears on his behalf, and Killian could hardly fathom it. Drawing a ragged breath of his own, he wet his cracked lips and managed a sincere response to her heartfelt openness. 

“Darling,” and here he couldn’t help a bit of a rogueish grin at her, despite how it pulled on the broken skin of his lip again. 

She shook her head, but didn’t scoff or interrupt, not this time, and heartened, he continued in all sincerity. “I’m not going to lie to you. I was angry when you shackled me there and left me behind. I’d been on the level with you, was doing my best to help you, and for the first the time in a long time, I felt like I connected with someone genuinely. But I also understand that your boy is your first priority. You cannot let anything else matter as much - or even possibly risk his safety.”

His battered knuckles were beginning to swell, and his fingers ached as he moved them, but Killian still managed to return the clutch of Emma’s own hand and intertwine their fingers with a sigh of rightness and relief. Glancing back up to search her gaze once more, he added, “I understand what being separated from one’s child might do to a person… more than you might think, in fact. I respect you all the more for your urgency and desire to return to him as soon as possible.”

He could see Emma wondering what his words might mean; the gears turning in her sharp mind were obvious, even if she only pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes slightly, watching him a few moments longer. Thankfully, she didn’t press the matter further, but instead released what seemed a lungful of air she must have been holding worriedly and gave him a hopeful smile. “So… you forgive me, then?”

The barest dip of his chin was as far as he dared move his aching head, but Killian assured her without hesitation, “Aye, Emma, I do,” in as strong and certain a voice as he could muster. 

By then, the faintest tendrils of light were beginning to break through the deep indigo sky and soft hints of scuffling and waking from their fellow travelers hinted that they would not be alone much longer.

Though he still hurt all over as if he had been scorched by a dragon’s breath and then crushed by an ogre’s tread, Killian couldn’t help but feel as if his situation had drastically changed. Even more so when Emma Swan’s eyes grew warmer yet; her aspect beaming crookedly at him like sunlight slowly emerging from a bank of clouds. Just before they were joined by Snow White bearing coffee for his Savior, Emma winked at him conspiratorially and leaned forward to murmur. “I’m glad, Pirate. After all, we make quite the team, remember?”

Tagging a few others who might enjoy: @searchingwardrobes @kmomof4 @jennjenn615 @laschatzi @whimsicallyenchantedrose @apiratewhopines @sotangledupinit @stahlop @winterbaby89 @hollyethecurious @killian-whump @artistic-writer @the-darkdragonfly @elizabeethan @donteattheappleshook @booksteaandtoomuchtv @kazoosandfannypacks @justanother-unluckysoul @wefoundloveunderthelight @motherkatereloyshipper @gingerchangeling @gingerpolyglot @jonesfandomfanatic @teamhook @revanmeetra87 @tiganasummertree @optomisticgirl @spartanguard @therooksshiningknight @drowned-dreamer @xarandomdreamx @caught-in-the-filter

[thephantomcasebook]

How fucking gross is it for the casting director to make sure that the gut who plays Blood has a comical sense of humor? I'm just going to drop this show. If they keep pumping up the awesomeness of Rhaeneryas fam.....I'm fucking done. Hopefully the Greens skewer him alive if they find him.

Well, according to the book, Blood is captured alive and brutally tortured till he gives up the entire conspiracy and who hired them. While Cheese gets lost in the tunnels under the Red Keep and starves to death. In "A Storm of Swords" Jaime and Tyrion find his skeleton and the gold that Daemon paid them.

From what I understand from hearsay, Criston catches Blood and Aemond is going to be the one that tortures and breaks him, in the show.

Like I've said for years and years, the ASoIaF Universe is a litmus test of a writer's ability to tell a coherent story without getting distracted by the more nihilistic elements that exist in the world of Westeros. And how quickly, even good writers, end up coming out like edge lord eighth graders whenever they're given a chance behind the wheel.

Just because the world sucks, just because anything bad might be possible, doesn't mean that it has to happen. The glee and joy that too many people have taken in the Nihilism of the world of Ice and Fire shows, to a point, the superficial understanding they have of storytelling.

In a world where all things terrible is permitted doesn't mean that all things should be in your story.

The "Blood" with a sense of humor has several distinct possibilities.

1.) They want to shock the audience by building him up to be likeable and goofy, only for him to show a really dark and evil side once he's got Jaehaerys and Maelor.

2.) They are trying to balance out the horror by making a strange David Lynch or Quentin Tarantino type of surreal farcical comedy within the violence and dark deeds. In the hopes of either making it artistic or providing levity to the scene.

3.) They want to make him bumbling and stupid in order to frame the entire incident as an accident or a dark comedy of errors.

Either way, I feel that the writers are just trying to find a way to have their cake and eat it too. They want to have the hard core dark violence and tinge it with cringe level millennial style irreverent, tone breaking, meta humor.

Mark my words, this isn't going to go down the way they think.

It sounds like the kind of unfunny meta jokes that D&D tried every once in awhile to put in "Game of Thrones" that never landed but for a some stuck up ultra rich liberal jerk offs chuckling to themselves as they discuss the latest "New Yorker" article.

And making "Blood" and "Cheese" some British comedy double act is fucking armature hour writing.

[prunebir]

Is there a reason cinnamon is the only scav that cares about arti? Or were they like: hmmm yes I shall befriend the demon that wiped out 80% of the population.

Well here's my theory that I came up with in the shower.

(oh boy here we go)

Cinnamon was getting back to their shelter as the cycle was 5 ticks away from ending, it noticed a red slugcat running away from scavs with their pups, one got skewered and the other drowned. Just another day cinnamon thought, but a few cycles later it saw the corpses of those scavs. And cinnamon realized the carnage to come. Cinnamon found themself withing LTTMs structure where it lied and waited for the next few cycles. Eventually they came back and found what had happened.

The reason cinnamon is the only one that cares about arti is because they are the only scav that knows what happened. To the other scabs arti was a sadist who attacked without reason. But cinnamon knows. He knows everything that occured.

So is my goofy little theory correct or did I just throw one of the most insane ideas at you at 1000 mph that your gonna make it canon?

holy moly you guys are really interested in cinnamons lore huh

you are somewhat caught up lol probably majority actually

they were one of the scavengers of the toll patrol that arti ran away from with her pups . while the others chased them down , he was the only one that didnt want to engage . he was only expecting the scavengers to atleast scare them off , but seeing one them impale an infant without a clear conscience was something that hasnt left his mind since

he couldnt process what he saw , like at all . cinnamon was somewhat , different than most scavengers . he liked pearls , but not as much to kill somebody for it . if somebody were to steal one , he'd probably chase them down until to give it back ; not necessarily have the gut to kill somebody for it .

cinnamon tried to isolate themselves from tolls after a few cycles since the ideal of a child getting killed was not a very pleasant thing to remember--- especially since slugpups are not like most creatures or animals . once you lose them , theyre gone for GOOD .

cinnamon met arti again after witnessing his tribe get killed , and they were the only ones that got away . he remembered that slugcat--- the color , the eyes , the appearance in general . he knew what was coming . the scavengers bit first , and artificer was coming to bite back harder . cinnamon was loyal , very faithful and trust worthy even to the elites .

theyve met the third time during the battle of the chieftain , as it made their call for other scavengers to sabotage arti during the battle . he knew he stood no chance towards the beast and so he backed down too . shes nobody to mess with , especially with the obvious wrath in her eyes . he was there when she killed their king--- and he was there when they saw her slaughter his kind once more

arti noticed him for a while , and he recognized them from the first time theyve met at the toll--- she couldve killed him there , yet something stopped her from doing so.

cinnamon understood , as actions spoke louder than words . arti is somebody who was struggling . he saw the anguish , and sadness through her eyes . cinnamon couldnt forgive her for what shes done , but he wanted to show that he cared . he understood her frustration and hate , and he couldnt bare to just keep her living with the same anguish . which is why cinnamon is so loyal to her , he wants her to recover as much as she can so atleast she has some hope that somebodys actually there--- even though sometimes she wants him dead

[pahrak-the-sinnoh-slizer]

Rivers Branching (draft of opening)

As he tumbled downhill, crashing against or through at least a dozen trees along the way, Ash could only hope that the plethora of SNAPS he heard came from branches rather than his bones.  He finally skidded to a stop in a muddy ditch and tested his body: it hurt like hell, but he could still move normally.  With a heave, he pushed himself high enough to grab the edge of the ditch, but froze when he realized he could no longer feel the rain.  Looming over him was a tall, lanky creature with face and shell like a turtle, its gleaming yellow eyes locked on him.  The top of its skull was indented into a circular bowl of sorts, currently overflowing with rainwater.  Stooping, it slowly extended its webbed claw.

“Terribly sorry, friend,” it said in a hoarse yet piercing voice.  “Seems I misjudged the incline on that ledge.  Looked like a nasty fall—are you still in one piece?”

Ash grunted.  “Don’t mock me!”

The creature took a step back.  “Oh no, not at all.  I apologize if I came across as such.  Let me know when you’re ready to resume.”

Pulling himself up, Ash took a quick glance at his surroundings.  There wasn’t much to see: hills towered over either side of the valley, and all he could see beyond that was a pall of gray rainclouds.  He glared at his enemy and lifted one arm; in a matter of seconds, a reddish-yellow flower bloomed from his wrist.  “Let’s go!”

A vine rapidly grew from the flower, shooting across the gap ready to skewer its target.  The creature dashed aside and stayed low, changing direction after a few steps, and charged straight at Ash with its claws spread wide.  Ash hopped forward—the end of the vine buried itself in the hillside and retracted, reeling him out of harm’s way.  He rolled into a crouch just as his anchor freed itself, seeing that his foe was still bearing down on him.  A multitude of smaller vines grew from his flower, weaving a thorned glove around his fist, and he led with his shoulder before throwing a deadly straight…that missed spectacularly.  The air fled his lungs as the creature thrust an elbow into his gut.

“One thing I will say is that you’re quite determined.”  The creature slowly circled around him as he writhed.  “A strength to be certain, though one must take care to prevent it from congealing into pure stubbornness.”

Ash stabbed at it with a lance made of vines.  His foe kicked his arm back and grabbed his face—the water dripping from its skin was nearly enough to drown him.  The next thing Ash knew, he was in a heap on the far side of the valley.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk.  Truth be told, friend, I find myself starting to wonder if you truly knew what you were getting into.  I mean really: a land-dweller picking a fight with a kappa in the middle of a rainstorm?  If your aim was to win, then one would think you’d have at least waited for the weather to clear up!”

“Oh, shove it!”  Ash climbed to his feet, wiping blood and dirt from his face.  “I’m not giving you the chance to make it back to the Earl!  One way or another, I’m going to wring you dry right here!”

He formed a bow next, sending forth a volley of arrows.  The kappa swiftly wove around the projectiles.  Just as it prepared to pounce, the next arrow exploded in mid-flight, scattering arboreal shrapnel across the creature’s path.  It managed to stop its forward momentum, but Ash didn’t let up: he kept firing arrows until he saw the kappa stumble and fall directly onto one of the thorny caltrops.  The bit of plant matter lit up, followed by a terrible shriek from its victim.  The kappa rolled onto its back and clawed at it frantically, its skin slowly but surely constricting and shriveling as the moisture was rapidly siphoned out of it.

“Got you!”

Ash ran forward, reshaping his bow into another glove.  Once he was close enough, he leapt at the kappa, summoned all his might, and slammed his fist down.  He struck only dirt.  The kappa flung itself just out of reach, plucked out the caltrop accosting it, and then smashed the human fighter’s skull into the ground.

“Haah…that was…clever…”  It rose slowly, the rain quickly restoring its body to health.  “My apologies: I underestimated you.  Allow me to rectify that mistake.”

Ash’s head throbbed.  He flopped a few inches away, short vines from his flower swiping blindly, but it did him no good as the kappa strode over, picked him up, and bit into his shoulder.  Pain shoved aside all other thoughts as the creature’s powerful beak cleaved flesh from bone, keeping firm its grip even as the kappa pulled back and spat.

“Mrrmm…that’s right, I forgot.  Those primroses of yours leave some truly dreadful seeds throughout the host’s body.  Pity: a waste of perfectly good food.  In that case…”

It bared its claws.  Ash did his best to push through the pain, to dig up some last reservoir of strength, but only a single thought came to his mind: Marisol…

The kappa turned sharply; another arrow was flying towards it, and it slashed through the bolt.  A cloud of spores burst out of the splintered arrow.  Gasping and choking, the kappa dropped Ash and stumbled backward.  Ash hit the ground hard but got right back up.  He began to lift his arm once again, but someone stepped in front of him: a young woman about his age wearing an armored wetsuit identical to his own but with patches of red rather than gray.  Sitting in her hair, glowing brilliantly, was a flower like the one on his wrist.  “Don’t be stupid—get back!”

“M…Marisol?”  He winced.  Vines from his flower were wrapping tightly around his shoulder to staunch the bleeding.  “You’re here already?  How did you stop the other one so fast?”

Marisol didn’t answer.  She kept her gaze fixed on the kappa, who cleared its throat one last time before wiping its beak.  “Well now…that was a bit underhanded, don’t you think?  In any case, I should introduce myself.”  It spread its arms and bowed.  “I am Kamikawa Getsumaru, Baron of the Western Antarctic Islands, here by request of the Earl of the Southern Waters.  And you are?”

Marisol stepped back.  “Not alone.”

A bolt of lightning shot down from the sky just then, striking Kamikawa dead-on.  It shrieked once again as the electricity surged through its entire body, leaving it charred and smoking when it had passed.  Ash’s eyebrows went up.

“I’ll give you one chance,” Marisol said.  The flower in her hair fanned out its petals, slowly extending four long vines covered in thorns.  “Leave.  Now.”

Ash reached for her shoulder.  “Mari, wait, we can’t just let it go!  We—ow!”  A vine lightly smacked his fingers away, making him recoil.

Almost groggily, Kamikawa looked around the valley, but ultimately it took another bow.  “I think…I shall accept your gracious offer.  Well-played, humans.  I look forward to our next meeting.”  And with that, it was gone.

Ash grunted.  “…Thanks.  I owe you one.”

Marisol whirled and grabbed him by the collar.  Her teeth were clenched, and orange light burned in her eyes.  “I’m real fucking tired of you owing me!  How have you still not learned to avoid getting nearly killed in the first place?!”

“I didn’t…”  A range of emotions flipped through Ash’s mind, but beneath it all he could feel a layer of shame providing a foundation.  “It’s…not…”  He took Marisol by the wrist—she was trembling.  “…I’m sorry, alright?”

“No, it’s not.”  She gave a long sigh as she let go of him.  “But…now’s not the time.”

Ash then realized they were not alone.  Standing nearby was someone new: another human, middle-aged if Ash had to guess from his white bear and frayed gray hair.  He wore badly scratched glasses that hid his eyes, and the trench coat he wore looked to be made more of dirt than of cloth.  Ash’s eyes settled on the massive tome tucked under his arm.

“Is that a spellbook?  I guess you’re responsible for that bolt, then.  Thanks for your help, mister, uh…?”

The ragged stranger slowly adjusted his glasses.  Marisol fidgeted too, which made Ash feel very uneasy very quickly.

“It’s been a long time, Ashton,” the stranger said.  “…I do apologize for that.  My name is Garrick Blackwood.  I am your biological father.”

Ash blinked.  He turned to Marisol, who nodded.  He looked at his primrose, which stood eerily still.  Looking back up at Garrick, he began to feel faint, and blurted out the only thing he could: “…What?”

~~~~~~~~~~

~~~~~~~~~~

Ash lay on his back in the tent serving as a makeshift infirmary.  His shoulder was properly bandaged but still bleeding, so he had been instructed not to do anything too strenuous.  That order was impossible to fulfill, however, since Garrick perched like a gargoyle on a chair next to his mat.

“Are you in pain?” Garrick asked.

Utter anguish, asshole, Ash thought.  Out loud, he instead answered, “I’ll be fine.  Something like this should only take a day or two to heal.”

Garrick glanced at the flower on Ash’s wrist.  “Ah, yes.  I’d been told that enhanced healing was one of the advantages granted by the scorch-wither primroses Laverne has been employing.  Remarkable specimen: there have long been theories about sapient plant species, but the idea of one being psychic seemed ludicrous.”

Ash shifted, watching the flower sway gently.  “…Zoe.”

“Pardon?”

“Her name is Zoe.”

“Ah.  I see.”

Rain drummed against the sides of the tent.

“Ashton, I—”

“Why don’t we just cut to the chase?  Where the fuck have you been?  You abandon Oren and me before I’m even a week old, and now, twenty years later, you suddenly decide it’s a good time to drop by for a visit?”

Garrick took a long pause.  “I was searching for something.  I knew it would be too dangerous to bring the two of you with me, so I left you in Laverne’s care.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“If there were any other option—”

���Raising your sons wasn’t an option?  What was so damn important you had to drop everything, huh?”

Garrick opened the book he carried.  “A way to defeat the kappa regime once and for all.”

Ash lifted his head.  “…What?”

“I had a lead,” Garrick said, flipping through pages.  “In my studies of magic, I had gathered enough evidence to suggest that an exceptionally powerful grimoire was involved in High King Kuzenbo’s plan to seize control of the planet.  It stands to reason that, if this grimoire can so completely change the state of the world, it can also be used to undo that change.  But I needed more information: exactly what I was looking for, an idea of where to find it…”  He paused before flipping the next page.  “It took far, far longer than I was expecting.”

After turning the page one last time, he held the book out for Ash to see.  Spread across the open pages were a few photographs of a book changing hands and copious hand-written notes he couldn’t entirely make out.  At the bottom, in large, clear letters, was printed “WUKONG CODEX".

“It exists, without a doubt.  And there are several accounts claiming that, among the eclectic list of spells it details, it contains information about chaos magic—highly effective in dismantling a world-spanning order.”  He snapped the book shut, giving the closest thing to a smile Ash had yet seen.  “With this, we can take them down.  I’ve tracked it and believe it to be somewhere in the vicinity of the Eurasian Delta, so I felt the time was right to share my findings with Laverne and secure her assistance in conducting an extraction.”

Ash stared at the book, dead-silent.  Garrick stiffened.  Before either could say anything more, the tent rustled and Marisol stepped inside; a large, flat leaf had grown from her primrose to shield her from the rain, and it flicked the water outside before retracting back into the flower.  Marisol stayed near the door squinting at Garrick.  After a moment, he rose.

“…I suppose I should let you rest.  We can talk more on the way back to headquarters.”  He raised one hand, hesitated, and then pat Ash on his good shoulder.  “It is…good to see you, Ashton.  Sleep well.”

Ash stayed quiet as Garrick left.  Marisol came to his side and crossed her arms.  “…How do you feel?”

He tried to put it into words.  In the end, all he could do was shrug one shoulder with a sweeping gesture.  Marisol smiled.

“I guess that’s to be expected.”  She reached out towards his primrose, lightly brushing it with her fingers.  “Zoe seems flustered too.  We really need to get her some sunlight ASAP…”

“Did we bring a UV lamp?”

“Nope.  Didn’t think we’d need it since we weren’t supposed to do any fighting.”

“Ah…right.”

She crossed her arms again; he could hear her foot tapping.

“…Right…”

Marisol looked up at the ceiling.  “I don’t want to press the issue right now, but…can I just ask what you were thinking?”

“Oh?  Well, first of all, thank you for assuming that I was thinking.”

She rolled her eyes.

“Haha…I, um…I thought I had an opportunity, really.  I didn’t see that kappa had backup, so I saw a chance to take it out and prevent whatever intel it had gathered from making it back to the Earl.”  He scratched his bandages.  “Seemed like a good idea at the time.”

Marisol’s foot stopped.  “Hm.  And, did you think at all about who else your actions might impact?”

“Yeah, I consulted Zoe, made sure she was okay with it before—”

“That’s not what I mean, Ash.”  She leaned over him, their gazes locking.  “Did you think at all about how the rest of us would feel if you died?”

His heartbeat quickened—he winced as the increased bloodflow seeped out of his wound.  “I…it wasn’t my plan to die, but…if I did, then at least I was helping to keep you safe.”

“So no.”

“I just said—”

“No, that’s not thinking about how we’d feel.  That’s not thinking past the situation you made for yourself!  I would still have to wake up tomorrow knowing that you were gone—I would still have to carry that pain for the rest of my life.  But you never think about anything beyond the fighting!”

Ash scowled.  “Hey, that’s not—”

“No?  Okay.  What if we toppled the kappa regime tomorrow, then?  What would you do with yourself after that?”

Ash averted his eyes.

“You haven’t thought about it, have you?  At all.”

“Alright, what’ve you got, then?”

Marisol turned away, sitting on the side of his mat.  “Plenty!  I’ve already begun gathering samples of various plant life and roughly plotted out where they need to be grown to repair the Earth’s biodiversity.  I want to learn to cook—I could start now, sure, but it’s not like we have the resources for me to learn much other than different ways to grill fish.  And little things: I want to visit an old-fashioned beach, sail on calm waters, run through a field of flowers so big I can’t see the end of it…”

Ash looked up at her.  A dull ache began to form in his heart.

“…I want a house.  Two-story, somewhere rural, with a greenhouse for my botany studies.  Some sort of pet, I don’t know what.”

Ash picked at his bandages.  “…And, uh…any other humans living in Marisol’s Dream Home?”

She turned her head.  “That mostly depends on you.”

He nodded.

“Ash…I know things look bleak.  I get that fighting against the regime is the only way you feel like you have any control—I don’t want you to stop.”  She gently took his hand.  “But the only way any of us are going to get through this, if we want to keep even a shred of our souls intact, is to have something to hope for when the fighting is over.”

The ache grew stronger.  “…Okay.  I’ll give it some thought.”

She smiled.  His pain vanished for a moment.  She lifted his hand, kissed it, and said, “Rest up.  We’ll head back in the morning.”

“Okay.  Good night.”

[kingofthe-egirls]

CAMPFIRE: LUFFY x OC (lore galore)

fox tales

(cw: food, kissing, mention of past nonconsensual kissing between oc and off-screen character, angst, fluff)

(a/n: i write cyclically uk the timeline, it’s fluid. spoilers ahead for sabaody-time skip)

Songs: "don't miss me" by Claire Rosinkranz

words: 992

“Have you ever kissed someone before?” You ask Luffy, who’s stroking your hair in front of the fire. There’s only a few more days til the next full moon, when you can open a portal across a long enough distance to get the two of you back to the Sunny. You’ve heard so much about the ship from him, you can’t wait to make it your new home.

“Yup!” He pops a chunk of barbecued meat into his mouth. He doesn’t continue, though, so you elbow him in the gut. “Ouch!” He yelps, “What was that for?!”

“I wanna hear about it!”

“Okay, okay,” he finishes off the meat skewer in his hand, and reaches for a second one in the flames. There’s a row of sizzling, popping meat you both are sharing for a late night snack.

“It was with Camie,” he tells you, voice going soft. “She’s one of our friends that helped us in Sabaody Archipelago. She went to this amusement park with us, and we were both alone on the ferris wheel. She looked really pretty, staring at all the attractions and rides. I wanted her first time on a ferris wheel to be extra special, so I kissed her. She looked really happy after that,” he chuckles, scritching the back of his head.

You felt a spark of fondness alight in your chest. “I’m really happy to hear that, Luffy. That sounds really nice.”

“It was!” He smiles, before a crestfallen look appears on his face. He turns back to the fire, throwing his empty skewer stick back at the flames. Sparks shoot up like fireflies.

“Did something bad happen?” You hedge quietly, knocking your shoulder into his. He shrugs.

“She’s a mermaid,” he says, glinting obsidian in his eyes, “And the people at Sabaody wanted to sell her. They sell people as slaves, over there.” His nose wrinkles, and your gut twists. His hands clench in and out of fists.

“I didn’t like seeing her like that,” he admits, voice gravelly, “I was so angry I couldn’t think. They had a collar around her throat—,” he inhales a sharp breath, sucking his lips in under his teeth. Roses bloom along his cheeks.

“I kicked a Celestial Dragon’s ass, there. And I got Camie out. That’s when—,”

“You all got separated, right?” You’d heard him talk about “Sabaody” before, but not quite like this.

He huffs, “Yeah. Then that’s when I, um…,” he trails off, and clears his throat. “That’s when I started training.” He throws some grass into the fire, having torn it to shreds in his hands as he talked.

“How long have you been training, before ya got stuck here?” You knock into him again, hoping your sharp-tooth smile will help lighten the mood. It does, kind of. The dark cloud of grief that hangs over his head clears, but only slightly. Your spirit-eyes can see it waving gray and mushy as he moves sometimes, almost like a second skin.

You don’t ask.

Grief hangs around you sometimes, too.

“Almost two years!” He says proudly, puffing out his chest. The X-shaped scar flickers bronze in the firelight. You reach over to touch it, and he stills.

“I’m glad you came here,” you whisper quietly, “And that you found me.”

He smiles, for real this time, and places his straw hat atop your head. You peak out, blushing from under the woven brim.

“Shishishi,” he laughs, and leans forward to kiss your chin. “You look cute, like that.”

****

“What about you?” He eventually asks, after the flames have died down to glowing embers. “Have you ever kissed anybody?”

“Mhmm,” you say nonchalantly, hoping to keep your answer vague. He tugs on one of your tails, sharply, and you yelp. “What was that for??” You whirl on him, but he’s laughing.

“Tell me about it!” He echoes you from earlier, and you groan. He pokes you in the center of your forehead. “What was your first kiss?”

“Um…,” you trail off, eyes sliding to the ground. The image of a broad, burly trapper fizzes in your memory, and you twist your lip. “It doesn’t matter.”

Luffy lets out a disappointed groan, “C’mon, Kit! Tell me,” he ducks his head to make you meet his wide, pleading eyes. “Please? I promise I won’t judge you.”

You frown, eyes glued to the dirt beneath your feet.

“Trapper.”

The one word hangs in the air, heavy and stilted as you struggle to breathe.

“Ah.”

Luffy snaps a twig, and throws it onto the dying flames. The embers lick at the new wood, and you feel your vision start to haze. You sniff, and wipe the back of your hand across your face. “Sorry,” you say, meekly. You shouldn’t have brought up this topic in the first place.

“Don’t be,” he mutters quietly, and then, “Doesn’t count as your first, anyway. Must mean that it’s me, then, right?” He turns to you with the kindest grin you’ve ever seen in your life. An urge to kiss him bubbles up within you, and as it is you turn to bury your face in his chest. He hugs you, tightly and unwavering, the strength in his limbs undeniable as he holds you close. “‘M sorry, Kit,” he mumbles into your hair, “Shouldn’t have asked…”

“No,” you sniff, shaking your head against his chest. “It’s okay. I got away in the end, anyway.”

“You’re strong,” he grins into your hair. His hand goes to the back of your head, stroking softly.

“Yeah,” you sigh, and heave yourself off of him. His hand lingers in your hair, fingertips slipping through the charcoal strands. His hair is darker than yours, jet instead of ash. He leans forward to place a kiss on the tangled ends. You curl your toes up, in spite of yourself.

He has a weird way of making you forget yourself, sometimes. You like it. You hope he never stops.

[women-of-malevolent]

All references to women in Part 20 - The King

No going back now; Arthur couldn't if he wanted to. John reminds Arthur that Faroe might not be here, and they need to be ready to leave if that's the case. Arthur agrees to stay quiet and ask minimal questions.

They walk into the city. John sees a human unspecified-species head. There's blood everywhere, making the ground squish. There are bodies everywhere. John is at a loss for words. Something tore their limbs off, then threw them against the side of the building. Their heads are skewered on lampposts. They're gutted in the streets, torsos removed, they look like they've been dragged.

John says, the victims look like they were trying to escape. The wall of one of the buildings nearby fell on some heads and broke them open. John says this is shocking, unknown brutality to him. He seems unsure if it was the King. Viscera paints the sidewalk as if it was played with. Everything in this city is dead, slaughtered. The trader... John says, whatever attacked these buildings... this is a mass grave. He tells Arthur to leave, but then Arthur hears something that sounds to me like an animal groan, then clarifies into Faroe's song.

They follow the piano to a destroyed ampitheater. Someone is playing piano in the middle of it. It's Kayne so I'm just going to call him that. Kayne dances over the corpses and evades John and Arthur's questions. Arthur demands to know where the music box is. Kayne brings it out, and it's covered in blood.

Arthur asks why Kayne wanted the music box. Kayne reveals that he doesn't; it was just a lure, to bring Arthur here. Kayne says, what he wanted was to meet Arthur and the voice in his head.

Kayne says he wants to know what's so special about Arthur. Kayne watched Arthur grow, graduate, and fall in love, or like. He watched Arthur's parents kill themselves, watched Bella die and Faroe drown. He says, boy, that's a lot of death around Arthur, but he still doesn't get what the big deal is, how did Arthur manage to survive?

Arthur gives his 'I'm all of humanity, reflected...' speech, which Kayne mostly rejects. Then Arthur says he has no answers for Kayne, he doesn't know why he's special. Kayne says, it's okay, it's not Arthur's fault. He thinks he's starting to like Arthur, maybe that's it. Or maybe someone else likes Arthur and is fucking with him. He offhandedly says, "Lillith, you bitch."

Until recently, I'd thought/hoped that the Lillith comment wasn't a literal reference to an actual character that's named Lillith. I thought Kayne was just being insane and threatening. It seemed like an appropriately random and insane thing for him to say. Season 4 has made it clear that, no, unfortunately, she's going to be a major player in this fucking story, and Kayne is her father. So. This is how we're introduced to the elder god called Lillith, her father offhandedly calls her a bitch in front of a couple other men.

Arthur says, wait, you said you saw my daughter and wife. Did Kayne live Arthur's life? Kayne evades the question. Arthur asks, what happens next? Kayne says, I dunno, but John wins ;)

More bickering and cruelty; Kayne says he is starting to like Arthur. Arthur says, he wishes the feeling was mutual, but Kayne is staining Arthur's daughter's music box with blood. Kayne says, here, keep it!

Kayne flexes on John and Arthur by listing their inventory. He says it's a shame that they lost Frank's picture frame. There's probably something here about how many women are reduced to objects that men are honor-bound to protect.

Before Kayne leaves, he gives Arthur a dagger. He says, use it when the time is right, Daniel told him.

John and Arthur decide to make their own choices, and they decide to head deeper into the city. They talk about what they might want to do when they get back home and safe. John says he doesn't know, then opens up about Lilly the nurse. In the hospital, he was angry and frustrated at his helplessness. He couldn't do any of that. Arthur says, you found your humanity, you found Lilly. John says, it wasn't just about her, she was merely a figurehead through which John learned a truth. She was the first human he didn't need anything from, the first time he didn't have the desire or ability to manipulate a person. Instead, he depended on her warmth and compassion, her routines and schedule. He found himself hoping she would come back, and in that hope came the realization that he was alone for the first time. It frightened him. The Dark World is terrible, but it is far from empty. Arthur says, she made you want more out of your existence. John starts to say that the first thing he wants to do when he gets home is- but they're interrupted by an animal in pain (which is their buopoth friend Lilly dying)

I'm gonna confess that I found this scene was very touching the first couple times I heard it. Now I'm mostly just annoyed with the recurring theme of men mercykilling/honorkilling females.

John and Arthur find their buopoth friend Lillly. She's hurt very bad, missing a piece of her stomach, dying. She must have followed them. There's nothing they can do. Arthur frantically checks his bag, looking for something that might stop the bleeding.

Arthur remembers the dagger, and remembers that Daniel told him that life is loss. That's what Daniel said. And Kayne said to use the dagger at the moment, Arthur would know when. Daniel said it, life is loss, everyone will face it. John says, what the fuck did Daniel know? Arthur says, he was Bella's father, Faroe's grandfather. John doesn't care. Arthur says, well, Kayne said! He said what Daniel said! John says, what, you want to kill Lilly because Daniel said that to you decades ago? Arthur says, we can't save her, can we? We either leave her to die slowly or put her out of her suffering. John says he won't accept those are the only options. Arthur says sorry, and waits. John finally says, okay.

John agrees to do it. They can't leave her like this. John will do it so Arthur doesn't fuck it up; he just wants Arthur to do him one favor, say what he says (because he can't control what comes out of their mouth when they interface with the world). He says, and Arthur repeats, "You were a good girl, Lilly. I'm sorry I failed you. I know you can't hear my voice. But I want you to know that you are loved. Goodbye." John says Lilly, and Arthur changes it to Faroe. And then they stab her, and we listen to her bleed out.

Then they cry 😢 Life is loss... 😢😢😢

Arthur says, it was a mistake to come into the city. John says, they would have found Lilly either way. This is his game - he wants them numb and defeated.

They decide to face their fate with the King. On the way there, Arthur opens up about his parents. They killed themselves. Arthur had a difficult time understanding why, and he was numb for a long time. A family friend suggested he find a creative outlet for his feelings, and that's how he found music. Earlier, though, he just found poetry. He reads John the poem he wrote about his family. Then he says, that felt like the hardest thing he'd ever endure, and that made it easier to overcome. If he could get through this, the rest would be easier. But it wasn't. John doesn't respond, just tells Arthur they've reached their destination.

They're bothered by the King's dancers - faceless dancers, heralds of the King, tall and thin figures that stretch and move like ballerinas. They wear (or maybe dance with, flags or acrobatics style) yellow wisps of cloth. They follow the king wherever he goes. At least some of them are women, and they cut Arthur.

Now, confrontation with the King in Yellow. The King is surprised by how much sway John still has over Arthur, even after admitting that he killed Emily, even after blaming Arthur for killing Faroe. Arthur says, yeah, he hates John for betraying his trust, but not for calling Arthur what he really is. The King says, I can see in your face that you fucking hate me, and you're someone to not fuck with... and yet, you love John. Arthur says, I suppose so.

The King says, you're willing to let Parker's murderer go free? Emily's murderer? Arthur says, no! The King says, so John deserves to be punished. Arthur says, no! Why not? Arthur says, because I can't afford to lose another person. The King says, death surrounds Arthur; he's cursed, he ruins everything he touches and escapes untouched. Arthur says, he's not untouched, he's paying! He has no one to count on... except him... The King says, he doesn't care about you! You're just meat to him! Arthur says, maybe, but he needs to trust in something, and he's choosing to believe that people can change.

The King starts physically torturing Arthur. John immediately gives himself up to stop Arthur's torture. Arthur says, he can't defeat the King, but he doesn't have to let him win, either. He takes the dagger that he used to kill Lilly, he calls back on Daniel's words, that you can't defeat death but you don't have to let it win. He says he knows what the dagger is for, says goodbye to John and slits his own throat. The King had promised John he'd leave Arthur somewhere safe, so he tosses him somewhere.

[time-is-restored]

FINALLY got around to finishing 3x2, and i just have to yell abt my absolute favourite part of the way this episode framed roy and trent's relationship. because as trent admits, he started his career being intentionally antagonistic and edgy. but its not like the cynicism wore off over time - remember his first appearance in the press room?

i think that's what's so crucial about all the lingering shots on trent when ted calls roy away to admonish him. because trent has seen this before. he's lived it! he's watching someone's walls get torn down as ted - in barely a handful of sentences - pushes roy to approach trent as a human being, rather than a predator that needs to be scared off. much like ted forced trent to see him as a fellow human, rather than prey.

the moment they share after is quiet, and (as the punchline of the scene emphasises) they're hardly friends afterwards. but there is an understanding there, i think. roy opens up to both ted AND trent with a level of vulnerability he was actively fighting off, right up until that point - yelling at jamie, getting pissed off at an old colleague, and threatening the team w/ violence (which, look, i could be misremembering, but im pretty sure he hasn't done that in a while!). and yet, he talks openly (and fucking HEARTBREAKINGLY) about some really deep and troubling regrets he's experiencing. and trent just listens, like a friend, and specifically not like the reporter he had been when he was younger.

AND THE REASON I NEEDED TO WRITE THIS POST IN THE FIRST PLACE: the fucking head tilt roy gives trent, when ted is being silly with the eye fluttering! what a perfect way to represent their common ground! 'geez, this fucking guy, hey? can't believe HE'S the guy who keeps getting me to spill my guts.' 'i know. can't believe i quit my job for this.' <- they would both commit atrocities for this man.

tldr; i really hope we get even MORE awkward bonding moments between trent and roy, i think their relationship is SUCH a perfect microcosm for just how much good ted has brought into the lives of the ppl around him. esp since ted is clearly struggling to understand his worth atm!!!

(also, omg, the 'ah, ted got you too, eh?' thorough-line is even briefly shared between him and rebecca, in that 'yes.' 'love that.' exchange! pre-ted, she would've blatantly lied, and he would've skewered her for it. instead, she's completely open about her motivations, and he shows her genuine appreciation + amusement. friends!!!)

[nateslehky]

so instead of actually working on my restaurant au fic, i decided to write a review for the made-up restaurant in the fic, mostly as a writing exercise, but also to help me understand what a mackinnon-led kitchen would be like.

in all likelihood, this won't make it into the final product, so below the cut you'll find a review of a denver restaurant with a kitchen operated by a fictionalized version of nathan mackinnon <3

Restaurant Review: Twenty Nine on 29th 

A restaurant opening in a refurbished brick warehouse is nothing new for River North. Twenty Nine on 29th looks to be another standard, run-of-the-mill joint hoping to find its footing in the up and coming arts district, but what it lacks in curb appeal it more than makes up for with what matters the most for restaurants in the end: the food. 

In a kitchen led by head chef Nathan MacKinnon, you’d expect nothing less. Food and Wine lists him among the best up and coming chefs in the nation–and for good reason. 

Mackinnon’s cuisine, previously described as “like an uncut gem, yet still a rarity”, seems to have finally begun to polish. Everything I ate felt refined; MacKinnon’s mind and hands crafting some of the best food I’ve ever had the pleasure of tasting.

Not just in River North. Not just in Denver. But in all my life.

The appetizers and entrées rotate seasonally, so what I describe may no longer be available if you’re lucky enough to snag a reservation, but I’d be shocked if anything leaving the kitchen wasn’t carefully cultivated by MacKinnon and executed to perfection.

To begin, I started with something that came highly recommended by a friend and colleague: the summer soup. Other appetizers called my name, most notably the squash blossoms, but I promised I’d try what she described as “summer in a bowl” and I’m not one to break my promises. 

So shout out to Amy; the soup was an excellent call.

It perfectly encapsulates what it’s like to dine at Twenty Nine. Similar to the restaurant itself, the dish is unassuming both in its description (a medley of fresh vegetables) and its look (a smooth green blend swirled with cream, topped with charred sweet corn and cherry tomatoes, a whipped ricotta crostini on the side), but still managed to blow me away. It felt like velvet on the tongue and the flavors were simultaneously familiar and unexpected. It transported back to the late-Julys of my youth, sun shining high in the sky with my father at the grill.

Summer in a bowl, indeed.

I had not made any promises for what to order for my entrée, so I teetered between the home-made tomato pasta or the scallop skewers, but in the end I ordered neither. A plate sizzled by my ear as I deliberated my choice, and I was met with the spectacle of an entire spatch-cocked chicken on a plate, the smell of its herb-crust too tantalizing to pass up despite the menu indicating it was meant for two or more patrons. 

Boy, am I glad I went with my gut (or my stomach, I suppose). It had a simple yet striking flavor, the accompanying butter sauce coating my tongue with such luxury that I felt as though I was dining at a five star restaurant beneath La Tour Eiffel, rather than among my fellow Denverites between artsy brick walls. 

After the chicken I was nearly too full to try a dessert, but went with a classic: the tarte tatin. Like everything at Twenty Nine, it was executed well, the pastry flaky, the apples crisp, the caramel sweet. An excellent end to an excellent meal.

A soup. A roast chicken. An apple pie.

Three things I like to think I could make in my sleep, and yet, it’s one of my favorite meals I’ve had in a long, long time.

That is how MacKinnon thrives: executing simplicity with striking efficiency, delivering mouthwatering menus that appear on paper like something you’d find buried in the back of your mom’s recipe book, but on the plate come to life so vividly and with such bold flavors that they feel like something you won’t find or replicate anywhere else.

Reservations at Twenty Nine are becoming harder and harder to come by, the cozy booths and tables full nearly every hour from lunch through dinner. The bar is full service and first-come, first-serve, but good luck trying to find an open seat. Like the rest of the restaurant, it is busy at seemingly all hours of the day. 

Plus, you’ll have to work your way around me. I plan to plant myself there until I’ve tried everything on the menu myself.

[differenceenginegirl]

I was tagged by @symbioticsimplicity for a word meme! I'll be using my Twin Devils WIP, found under that tag on my page at the moment. This'll be fun! Tagging @or-what-you-will, @bard-llama, and @mightbeawriter, only if you want to. Your words are Grin, Sing, Shoe, and Water!

First word is Wretched, which I don't actually have any of, so have Suffering instead, as a synonym:

"Laely?" Michael asked of the creature, horror rising in his gut at the thought that this-this mangled being of pain and suffering was his twin, the brightest in the Heavens, as a voice began to whisper 'You did this. You caused him this pain.' "Mi-Mi!" His face lit up, and Michael knew his fears were true. "Am-am I forgiven? Can I return home?" Michael's heart broke at the hope in his eyes and his voice, as he knew he would have to crush it. He would wait until his twin had healed somewhat, but Laely hated being lied to. "No, Laely, neither of us are ever going back to the Silver City. I'm so sorry."

Second word is Angry, which again, didn't have, but did have Anger:

His Father's jaw twitched, and outside, thunder cracked. "You dare question Me? Even after what happened to your twin?" "I do. Now answer me, I will not leave until You have done so." Despite the stirrings of fear in his belly, he stood strong, not letting any of it show on his face. "You claim he just asked a question. He caused the deaths of a number of My children, your siblings, and you still think banishment is unfair?" "None of those who died did so at his hand, or at the hands of his supporters. And none would have died if You had not given me and the Host weapons capable of it!" A little of his anger started to peek through, unable to hold it entirely back. "So it is My fault they died? I would not have had to take such action if he had not started a battle!" Thunder cracked again, the skies outside matching the stormy expression on His face.

Third word is Laugh, again, got close with Laughing:

It took four cycles to reach Pandemonium, already a busy gathering of dwelling-skins and bone huts at the base of a cliff with a large cave about halfway up it. Kimaris told them they were not the last to arrive, and insisted they set up their dwelling-skin near hers. It took about twice as long to set up their portion of the new settlement as it did to strike it, with some Lilim rushing off towards the centre as soon as their skins were up and secure. The twins stuck close by Kimaris, Malhy-Vodek a little overwhelmed by all the busyness and the number of Lilim chattering, laughing, and singing in their language, and Laely not wanting to leave his twin behind. When every dwelling-skin was up, and smoke was beginning to wisp out of the bone hut, she beckoned them to follow her and led them towards the centre of Pandemonium. As they walked deeper and deeper in, the dwelling-skins got closer and closer together, and started to shift from sleeping skins to ones fully open on at least one side, with tables of tools, materials, and other goods, and carefully maintained cooking fires and skewers of meat. It was close, and busy, and Malhy-Vodek could feel himself tensing, the sights, smells, and incomprehensible sounds all getting more and more and beginning to merge into one. His chest was getting tighter and his wings ready to spring him into the air and away. The tight path opened up into a wide, open space before a grand arena, the space near-empty. And he felt like he could breathe freely again.

And finally, Teeth:

The beast was unaware of their approach, until the first swipe of Mar's sword drew a line of black-red across its flank. It roared, and turned a maw full of teeth and dripping with yellowed saliva towards the party, the ash sizzling where it dripped. He huffed out a short grounding breath and darted forwards, swords slashing at places he knew were soft flesh, the beast swiping and roaring with greater rage at each new injury. A few well-aimed stones joined the flashing of golden feathers. And slowly but surely the beast began to weaken. Behind them, another roared. Far too close.

[radellama]

Heya! Sorry to dip, things went crazy. Anyways.

👻🐌💥 for the writing asks if you are still doing those, thanks!

Haha you're all good! Hope you've been well!

👻 Is there a new genre you'd like to write?

Ohhhh, definitely! Since studying film theory for the past couple years (and thinking more broadly in narrative as a whole) I'm really fascinated by genre and the tropes expected from them. I write a lot of angst, and I'm usually writing sci-fi/fantasy/drama/slice of life style things, and I'd like to try every genre ever if I'm being honest LMAO.

What fascinates me most, though, is the way you can blend genres. Like, you know how action/adventure or sci-fi/thriller can just go hand in hand sometimes? I wanna try out various blends or even try to see if it's possible to make new blends/create something decent in a blend that 'doesn't work,' I just wanna try out all the stuff and push the boundaries, for both my fic and original works. Know the rules to break them yknow?

🐌 What is one of your smallest writing goals?

Make notes!! And I've already kinda succeeded haha.

I noticed when I was writing my hylink fic all the way back when, when I inevitably got busy with life I just couldn't access the same headspace anymore and had to drop the fic, even though I didn't want to. I'm still talking and thinking about it all these years later (and I'd love to restart and eventually complete it in future!) But it taught me that I need to make really solid notes so that I can plot everything to my standards and access that same headspace no matter how much time has passed- cause turns out! I'm really slow and nitpicky!

Some of my fics are 5+ years in the making at this point, and cause I like to let things marinate in my head for ages, making notes for stories and actually going more in depth with them so it's easier to draft later is so important to me these days. That's why, that'll be my little goal >:)

💥Is there a chapter, scene, or WIP you're most excited to write? Share a snippet or tell us about it!

Ahhh man.. all of my fics/original stories??

For now, since I've been talking a bit about it with some friends, he's a snippet of a possible introduction for my most recent OCs/original story, Abe and Orc.

[Also wanna preface this and say it's suuuuuuuper work in progress, and I'm not sure I want to write it write it, as I think it might do best in a visual medium like a web comic haha]

~~~

He tossed some game to the bushes near the orc's campfire, staying hidden up in the trees. He watched with a keen eye as the orc investigated the sound, finding the animal carcass and brushing the dirt off of it.

"Thank you." He called out, to no one in particular.

Abe didn't respond, just looked over him.

He watched as he tried to gut the hare, not doing a very good job it of it. Maybe it was due to the sheer size of this orc, with his huge knife and even huger hands, but he was making a right mess of it.

Abe groaned to himself, before jumping down from the trees and making himself known.

Abe pointed his knife at the orc, gauging his reaction. The orc stayed still in shock, sheepishly raising his hands in surrender and placing his knife down.

Rolling his eyes, Abe stomped over to the stone where the dead hare laid, and started to gut and skin it properly for the orc.

He worked fast, expertly preparing the meat in the firelight while the orc watched in fascination. Neither of them said a word, but Abe would keep a cautious eye on the orc while he worked.

As soon as he was done, he ran off into the trees, ignoring the orc as he tried to shout his thanks.

The orc carefully began cutting the meat, and skewering it on some sticks to roast on the fire. He was thankful for the kind stranger, this was this third day on whatever berries and plants he could find, and it simply wasn't enough for him to keep going. Some meat, however small, meant a lot to him.

---

In the distance, down by the river, he saw that kind stranger. Excited, he ran down to the riverbank to talk to him.

As soon as he heard the ground shake with each step the orc took, Abe panicked and reached for his knife. He didn't have time to recognise that it was the same orc from before, only registering a large being bounding right towards him.

He quickly slashed the orc, cutting right across his forearm. As he recoiled in pain, Abe used the time to quickly climb a nearby tree and gain his bearings.

"Ow!!!" The orc didn't try to attack him back, didn't even turn to look for him in the trees. In fact, he didn't even try to defend himself, or protect himself from another attack.

"I just wanted to talk with you..." The orc sounded on the verge of tears.

Abe watched for a moment, before jumping out of the tree and landing behind him. He tapped the handle of his knife on the back of the orcs head.

"You're dead."

The orc instinctively reached to rub the back of his head, turning to look at the small man.

"Why did you cut me?" He whined.

"Why did you come running at me!?" Abe yelled back. When he saw the orcs lip start to quiver, he regretted saying it so harshly.

"I just wanted to thank you. For the meat."

Abe stayed still, unsure if he'd heard right. Not once had he ever heard of an orc that cared enough to use manners like this...

He began to pick up the remains of his clothes by the riverside and walk off into the forest, but before he could disappear, the orc called out to him.

"How can I thank you!?"

Abe ignored him, and walked away.

To his dismay, Abe heard the orc follow behind him as he walked further into the forest. He glanced over his shoulder, and sure enough, the orc was a few footsteps behind. He picked up the pace, weaving through the trees in the hopes that he'd lose the orc, but he was always right behind him when he turned to look.

"Why are you following me!?" Abe spat angrily.

"I want to thank you!" The orc growled back at him.

Abe stopped running, and turned to face the orc.

"I fed you, and I've cut you. Now don't bother me!"

The two of them stared each other down, neither willing to budge. Abe wasn't willing to back down, not caring that he was barely half the height of this orc- He could, and would fight.

But then he noticed that the orc was still cradling his arm, blood dripping between the fingers that gripped the wound.

Abe sighed. "You're going to get an infection if you hold it like that."

The orc looked down at the wound, removing his hand to see the bloodied mess. He couldn't even see where the gash was amongst the blood the seemed to cover his entire forearm.

"How do I clean it?" The orc asked.

Abe waited to see if the orc was joking, but he was genuine. Blood continued to drip from his arm, and Abe just groaned and led the way back to the river. The orc followed closely behind him, kneeling down by the riverside when the man gestured for him to.

He watched curiously as the Abe washed his hands in the water before grabbing his arm and submerging it in the river. He rinsed the blood away and pulled his arm out, quickly slapping some leaves on the open wound.

The orc gasped in pain as the leaves touched his skin, but the human held his arm still between his knees to continue applying the leaves.

"It stings!" The orc complained, but Abe ignored him.

He watched with a grimace as the human finished with the leaf dressing, and reached out to cut some river weed. He used it to tie the leaves to his wound securely, and walked away to put a few steps of distance between them.

The orc looked his arm in awe, it was so simple and resourceful, and even the stinging was starting to subside.

"Thank you."

Abe grunted. "Don't come running at a man while he's trying to bathe next time."

"Sorry..."

The orc watched the as he grabbed his shirt and shook it, quickly turning his head when he realised he was trying to get dressed.

Abe saw him trying to give him privacy, and waited to see what he'd do. The orc just sat with his head turned to watch the river, once again leaving himself fully open. Why this orc trusted him so much was a mystery to Abe, but he had to admit that he was intrigued by the strange behaviour.

"What's your deal?" Abe asked, and the orc turned to look at him with a flustered expression.

"Pardon?" He asked.

"Why are you out here?" Abe asked flatly.

The orc sighed, fiddling with the hem of his skirt. He didn't answer, and Abe watched as his demeanor changed the longer he played with his skirt.

"Do you even know how to hunt?" Abe asked, rather harshly.

"No..." The orc replied, still avoiding eye contact.

Abe sat down on the riverbank and sighed a heavy sigh.

He didn't want to, but a sense of pity was creeping over him. He remembered how hard it was when he first came to the forest - he recognised that struggle with this orc.

"How long are you out here for?" Abe asked.

"Indefinitely." The orc replied solemnly.

"If I teach you to hunt, will you do everything I say?"

The orc looked up in surprise, a wide smile breaking out across his face. "You'd teach me?"

Abe shifted his gaze to avoid looking at the smile, but he could still feel how excited the orc was.

He instantly regretted offering, but it was too late to back down now. He stood up, dusting the dirt off his pants as he looked to the horizon. It would be dark soon...

"Keep up." He instructed, and headed into the forest.

The orc quickly stood up and followed closely, but this time Abe didn't bother looking to check if he was still hovering behind him. He just walked forward, twisting and turning through the forest as the sun set.