#NO BODY TELL HIM OKAY?

[valscodblog]

.............

people of tumblr. i have something to say.

I HAVE BURNT MY FAVORITE PAN :C

i was tryna make some rice. (scary rice guy on tiktok dontfind me please, this aint even tiktok-)

AND OMFG

i forgot to TAKE OFF THE FUCKING HIGH HEAT i used to get my water boiling and uhmmmm.....

i burnt my pan :C

why was i using a pan?

IT'S MEXICAN RICE AND MI ABUELA'S ABUELA'S RECIPE OKAY?!

T_T i need some sleep tbh-

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

...Turns out gay sex actually was the solution.

(This is basically a redraw, come read the real deal over at Tiger Tiger)

[quadrantadvisor]

Thinking about DP x DC Jason Todd being a revenant again. Here's my scenario. Jason gets called that by some ghost. He's like "what the fuck is that supposed to mean?" He's heard the term before but he doesn't know any actual lore. He googles it. He scrolls past the Leonardo DiCaprio bear movie. He opens the wiki. Sees the words "animated corpse" and gets a chill diwn his spine. He starts reading the first section.

He closes Wikipedia.

That night he has a nightmare that his family buried him, again, this time with precautions. He wakes up in his own grave, full of stones, too heavy to move, to scream.

[happypeachsludgeflower]

So, in PIDW, there was obviously wife plots that could bring back the dead (mushroom body being one of them), and since we know Airplane is a hack that reuses concepts over and over, there’s probably multiple wife plots that could work, so like, where’s the PIDW fics where Liu Qingge somehow comes back to life, memories of Shen Jiu trying to save him intact, and goes to hunt the asshole down so he can repay his life debt, and along the way accidentally clears Shen Jiu’s name of all his crimes and now everyone is convinced Shen Qingqiu is a saint.

[gods-perfect-idiots]

something something blood-soaked hands cradling your face something something

anyway here's the post btw

[sapphicmuppet]

I’m sorry as of now in the series Jace Stardiamond they could never make me hate you. Bro has been so stressed this year literally let him be evil as a treat. He’s a single mom who works two jobs and loves his kids and never stops with gentle hands and the heart of a fighter. He’s a survivor.

[eldritch-sanctum]

I have this headcanon/theory that Greed and Hohenheim have met before. When Hohenheim meets Greed before the Promised Day, they do seem to have some familiarity but IDK.

So it goes like this, many years ago Hohenheim went to the Devil’s Nest bar to get drunk as one does. Upon arrival, Greed freaked out and ran off due to Hohenheim resembling Father. Greed then knew something was off when he checked back, and Hohenheim noticed his fear. Greed became curious and started to ask him some questions, because Hohenheim felt different from Father.

Hohenheim comments on his hand tattoo, and then says something like “I take it your father hasn’t treated you well.” Which opens up the conversation between the two acknowledging who the other is.

Some time after both get drunk somewhere private and Greed is like “I wish you were my dad.” to Hohenheim.

I would really like if they had a private conversation after Hohenheim explained his story to him, Ed, Darius and Heinkel.

[painom]

Hello! Can I just say that I really appreciate you doing this? I've always been a big fan of your analyses and your ability to get to the root of the characters. Thank you for continuing to let us read your wonderful thoughts and stories.

On your old blog, you discussed your headcannons for Lyney, one being his tendency to forget things like where he put his wallet because him and his mind are very busy. Unfortunately, I didn't save the post (my biggest regret ahhhhh!) and I would love to read your analysis once more. If it's okay with you, could you go over your headcannons for Lyney again? The old, the new, whatever's on your mind and whatever you're willing to share. Thank you so much!

Thank you for the kind ask, anon! Here you go!

New Lyney Headcanons

Self-focused - Though he never seems like it, those that know Lyney well know that he’s often running low on sleep. And really, he has no one to blame but himself. During the day he’s often distracted with magic shows, helping people, little tasks around the hotel, running missions for Father, and much more. And at night? He can often be found alone in his room planning new tricks, arranging missions for his siblings, studying to become the next “king” of the House, and things of the sort. If Lynette and Freminet didn’t keep an eye on him, no doubt he would stay up the whole night if given the chance! Those two welcome all the help they can get. 

Relationship-focused - When it comes to his relationship with you, Lyney never lies. You know he would never do that to you. And sometimes, the knowledge almost lulls you into a false sense of security. Yet you know better. You’re smarter than that. Where Lyney doesn’t lie, he omits. Half-truths so easily fall from his mouth as drops of rain from the sky. Your comments of concern are often brushed off and your questions redirected. As much as you try, you know the truth. He doesn’t want you to know. He doesn’t want you to shoulder his burdens with him. 

old lyney headcanons below!

Would Lyney be honest with you?

With his outgoing and fun personality, it oftentimes is easy to get caught within his flow. Lyney is the charming sort, after all, that one may very well forget that he is subject to the same struggles as the rest. Get to know him well enough, though, and you will quickly realize that this is not a fact he wishes others to know. More than a desire, he needs to be seen as someone in control, as someone without weakness. That’s his role as the big brother. And if that means lying, avoiding, and omitting the truth to accomplish it, then an accomplished performer like himself will do what he must. 

Does Lyney prefer to pursue or be pursued?

With a penchant for flair and dramatics, it’s clear to see Lyney prefers to pursue the people he’s interested in. Really, it’s one of the things he goes all out. With a trick up his sleeve, he won’t hesitate to dazzle you with flowers pulled from nowhere and fireworks from his tophat. He wants you to be enchanted. He wants you to be impressed! You are, aren’t you? You like it, don’t you? So focused on charming you that he often loses sight of much else. Fun fact, should you attempt to turn the tables, however, you can expect his mask of self-confidence to fall to reveal a rather flustered expression beneath. 

Headcanons

Self-focused - If there’s one thing that’s true about Lyney, it is that he is a very busy person. As a person with multiple masks and roles, his thoughts are often preoccupied with House missions, performances, new tricks, and things of the like. So, much to the dismay of others, it’s easy for things to become buried under the multitude of other tasks he needs to take care of. How often the simple things become forgotten—where he last left his wallet, tea time with his siblings, the sale on storybooks at the bookstore. During those times, he really can’t help but appreciate his siblings and their ability to keep him on track. Really, he doesn’t know what he’d do without them!

Relationship-focused - It doesn’t hit you at first, but it doesn’t take you very long to notice how hard Lyney tries for your relationship. Normally this would be a good thing, but it is different with Lyney. Every day he tries to charm you. Every day he attempts to enchant you. You tell him he doesn’t need to try so hard, but that only seems to light a fire beneath him to do even more. You see it in his eyes. He needs to know you are still in awe of him, that you like him as much as he does you. And then it sinks in, doesn’t it? He doesn’t trust you. He doesn’t trust your feelings for him. He’ll never show his true face to you.

old tags for this post: #okay let’s talk lyney for a bit i think the biggest thing to know about lyney is that at his core he is an insecure person insecure and anxious #imo he’s extremely attached to his title of ‘big brother’ that he needs to fulfill the duties if such he needs to protect his siblings and be a person others can rely on #this belief is so strong that he refuses to rely on arlecchino for help and snaps at freminet for trying to get him to open up #he really cares about the way he’s perceived #remember when the traveler found out he’s part of the fatui and he spends his time bending over backwards to try to get them to trust him ‘like me! like me! please. i’m trustworthy i’ll never lie to you please!!’ #honestly imo that’s just one if his faults like lyney is unstable #idk what possessed arlecchino to make him her successor like he’d crack under pressure #lynette is a way better option #but anyway bc of these things he would not trust his partner in a relationship #he wouldn’t rely on them he’d never feel secure which would prompt him to keep trying too hard to ensure he’s still the person he thinks you fell in love with #the most important thing to remember with lyney is that he is a performer and the face he shows to the world is essentially a mask

What’s Lyney’s breaking point in a relationship?

It’s hard to imagine, really. With how much Lyney may seem in love, the idea there’s a point a relationship would be too much for him is hard to believe. But when you really think about it, his breaking point is simple. As strong as his feelings may be for you, his devotion to his family and its cause outweighs everything else. Should your relationship with him ever reach a time where it encroaches upon that which is the most precious to him, then there’s nothing more he can do than let you go.

old tags for this post: #i think the key thing to take in here is that lyney cannot function without his family he is extremely reliant upon them to the extent that he will become unstable without them #just look at the archon quest when wriothesley captured his siblings any and all logic completely went out the window #lyney is an anxious insecure mess and the only thing that holds him together is playing the role he has to as big brother #if your relationship with him ever reaches the point that you transcend into being counted as his family.... he will have no breaking point #the breaking point will be his mind or body. whichever breaks first

[saintvainglorious]

Fics I Enjoyed in January - DC Comics Fic Rec List Part 2

I am still neck-deep in DC fandom this month and the fics have been so so good. Unlike last time, I am too tired to write mini summaries/reviews, so I'm going to feature my favorite quote from each fic instead.

My first DC Comics fic rec list is here!

Floor Plans by @oh-mother-of-darkness (Teen & Up, 1k, 2016) “I really didn’t want to die,” he finished. “I was kind of hoping if I laid here long enough, I would remember what that felt like.”

Losing two brothers in six months takes an emotional toll.

almost right by @bitimdrake (Teen & Up, 3k, 2020) He desperately wishes that he didn’t know what Dick’s cheekbone feels like under a gauntleted fist.

Bruce sucks in a breath, hand raising to fix the cowl. Dick flinches back.

but more with love by @danishsweethearts (Teen & Up, 3k, 2022) Dick wakes up one morning, groggy from a dream that he thinks might’ve been about the circus and also about his favourite car and also about how lonely he is, and realizes that he can’t remember what his mother’s voice sounds like anymore.

O Robin, Robin, wherefore art thou Robin?

The Mechanics of a Hug by @sohotthateveryonedied (General Audiences, 4k, 2017) “You know… that crushing sense of depression? Like,” Dick chews his lip. “It’s. A physical weight. Makes it hard to breathe?” “Yeah,” Tim says, soft. He smiles, wryly. “I sort of hoped you didn’t, though.”

“So,” Tim ventures. “It's… what, a cuddle pollen?” Bruce just shrugs. “Something like that.”

No Pain, All Gain by @sohotthateveryonedied (General Audiences, 1k, 2020) Tim’s eyes go even wider. “You stole my organs?” “Technically,” Jason chimes in, “the doctors stole your organs. We just gave them permission.”

Bruce checks Tim’s IV. “Are you in any pain? Do you need more morphine?” Tim’s pupils are so wide that only the faintest ring of blue can be seen. He watches Bruce the way a five-year-old watches cartoons. “I’m all good, B-dog. All Gucci, like we cool teens say." His words are slurred almost beyond recognition, but Tim doesn’t seem to notice or care. "I could fight Superman right now.”

The Wind Sits in the Shoulder of Your Sail by @birdchildsnest (Teen & Up, 7k, 2020) “Oh my god. Bruce. I can’t even tell if you’re serious. When everybody finally eats the rich—they’re going to eat you first.”

At least, back then, Tim had barely been a teenager. He could almost forgive his own volatility. And he’d been smart enough (scared enough?) not to tell Jack that he didn’t need him. What was his excuse now? Bruce was his dad (at least, in the legal sense), but (surprise, surprise) it turned out that Tim wasn’t any better at being a son. Or Tim and Bruce still have some things to sort through after the adoption.

I Left My Conscience On Your Front Doorstep by @dustorange (Teen & Up, 21k, 2022) He doesn’t want to be loved if being loved is like this.

"I think I'm leaving," Dick whispers. "I think I'm not coming back."

bad boys bad boys (whatcha gonna do) ♫ by @drakefeathers (Teen & Up, 20k, 2014) "They live their lives thinking they can charge through the city with the right to hurt and kill and destroy as many lives as they want. And they do it all without a shred of remorse." “But—” Damian begins, brow furrowed in confusion. “Isn’t that like you?”

a Jason and Damian as Batman and Robin AU!! featuring a bunch of graffiti, a rival dynamic duo, and Cat Jason (a cat named Jason).

The Biggest Mistake by @oh-mother-of-darkness (General Audiences, 1k, 2016) “I could ground him anyway, if it would make you feel better.” “He only said it because I called him ‘a garbage can so ineffective it actually became garbage.’”

"You know what really needs to be addressed? Bruce's truly terrible treatment of Damian." -Me, on a daily basis

been a number and a name by @wynterstars (Teen & Up, 35k, 2023) “Turns out if you just say ‘spacetime’ until people’s eyes glaze over they don’t really question anything you say. Also, somehow nobody expects me to be able to actually do enough math to explain it.”

On a field trip, Robin has a close encounter with the newest super in Metropolis, only to discover the hard way that Superboy secretly works for Lex Luthor. They agree to work together on a plan to free Superboy from Luthor’s hold, but Robin isn’t sure how far he can trust him—and his developing feelings only make things more complicated.

clean it like you mean it by @wynterstars (Teen & Up, 70k, 2024) "Wait, ugh, you're not my dead dad, right? If I'm getting a dying vision of my dead dad I want a do-over because he suuuuucked."

When Gotham's crooks have to scrub down their lairs, who do they call? Jason Todd, Gotham's first and only underworld crime scene cleaning specialist. He's spent his life dodging the Bat, but after a chance encounter he saves Robin's life. Tim Drake finds himself drawn to the conflicted rogue, and soon Jason becomes Robin's street informant. But they can only stay on opposite sides of the law for so long before something breaks.

3:16 by @wufflesvetinari (Teen & Up, 70k (WIP), 2023) “Try to decouple one thing from the other. I’m proud of you, but ice cream isn’t my grand statement about whether you’ve been good or bad today. Good things are good. Happiness is precious. Sometimes you just want caramel chocolate chip.”

The knife pushes thin along Dick’s carotid artery, cupping the indent between neck and jawline—forcing him to angle his chin. The metal is warm, pulled with execution speed from under Damian’s pillow. “Okay,” Dick says quietly, tracking the intricacies of his own heartbeat—counting the space between breaths. “Guess I did need a shave.” (With faltering steps, Dick and Damian become Batman and Robin.)

wolf-king of rome by @mysterycitrus (Not Rated, 25k, 2024) “You go after Joker, but you don’t kill him, because it’s not about the Joker dying, it’s about Bruce breaking his code for you. It’s about Bruce loving you enough to change himself for the worse. It’s about your idea of grieving.”

Jason doesn’t fear Dick Grayson. Fear itself has changed shape for him, since his return from the Pit - it tastes of dirt in his mouth, of drowning, of fire and blood and laughter, more than a tangible face. Still, he’d be stupid not to be cautious. Dick liked playing on an uneven field, and would do anything to keep him off balance, so he just had to stay focused. That’s the nature of the armistice, both waiting for the other to make a move. It’s like balancing on the head of a pin.

Declensions by @dustorange (Teen & Up, 13k, 2018) “Do not tell them your name. Do as I did to survive. I lied. I have always lied. Make one up. Do not let them have you. Say your name is…is…is…Richard Grayson. Or something. They are going to steal you; do not give them anything to steal.”

“My father,” Dick says, “worked the rope. It cut him. His hands were never clean.”

Passiontide by @bigdvmnhero (Teen & Up, 5k, 2025) Despite its faults, the day had tried to be good. He felt young, like someone's son.

On the 96th day Bruce didn't call, Dick remembered their old game. Three things he knew: 1) In three months, it would be Dick's death anniversary; 2) Bruce was still missing his check-ins; 3) Here Dick was, persisting. Imagine the things I'd survive, Dick thought distantly, if I loved Bruce less. Or: Agent 37 and his various crises of faith, on Day 277 at Spyral, Day 150, and Day -0.

the time you won your town the race by @silverwhittlingknife (Teen & Up, 4k (WIP), 2022) Tim. Tim is Dick’s. Death sharpens, clarifies these things. Who will receive the body, decide on the funeral, receive condolences, make all the decisions that matter. No one has questioned it, not even Tim’s friends. There’s a terrible clarity about death. If Dick said, let’s burn everything he owned, Alfred would do it.

He doesn’t know exactly what Tim would say. But he knows what Tim would do. Tim dies. Dick doesn’t take death for an answer. A Red Robin 12 AU.

door, opening by @cowboysorceror (Mature, 70k (WIP), 2024) Dick, with the keys to every locked door Jason has ever tried to open, tucked inside the cradle of his skull; all of that, snuffed out like a candle.

It’s barely audible, but he knows what he heard. A short, four-note whistle, chirping down – E, C#, then jumping up to A, F#, a little trill on the finish. He waits a moment, head turned slightly towards the dim shapes of storage containers between him and the ramp, eyes straining against the blackness. Long, stretching seconds. There it is again. His gloved hand, prickling with cold, closes into a fist. It’s a wood thrush. A small North American songbird that doesn’t sing at night, doesn’t live in the city. He knows what it means. It means hold, steady, not yet. It means wait for me, I’m behind you.

[moongothic]

Seen a few people too many discuss the concept of Dragodile Baby 2 and my hot take is that there's no way in hell Crocodile would ever detransition just to go through nine months of horrible dysphoria again, let alone go through pregnancy ever again (or allow Ivankov to even touch him, what if they died and weren't able to trans Croc's gender again afterwards? Hell naw, ain't worth the risk)

But this leaves an opportunity for a Funnier Option:

Dragon wants another baby? Sure, but it's his turn to carry it >:)

[vaguely-concerned]

varric giving rook his shaving mirror to keep kind of hits different when your rook is a trans man I have to say

[the-bi-space-ace]

See, I hold back when I write. It could be far angstier than it is. I could be handing out forehead kisses left and right. Forehead kisses as someone cries and bleeds after a battle. Delirious from blood loss and pain and needing reassurance. Forehead kisses when they know their squadmate is going to die. A parting gift. One last way to comfort them, to remind them they’re loved.

I’m just saying I could make things more painful than they already are.

[hanzajesthanza]

geralt and ciri and having a bigass scar on their face as a reminder of hatred and revenge ❤️ i know geralt’s scar was invented just for this book, but the fact that he hides it with his headband, oh, that nenneke gave him… like ciri tries in vain to hide her scar, combing her hair in such a way… and ciri’s scar is unable to be hidden. whereas geralt probably hides his well, since we never heard of it before ;). maybe it is because they are a vicious cat, and a calm, composed wolf…

now i just want to see child ciri, examining geralt’s face and his strange eyes on their way to kaer morhen—during which he surely took his headband off. once or twice. looking up at him with her huge child’s eyes, at his weathered face… witnesses below his hairline an ugly scar from ages ago, but doesn’t ask about it… he has so many anyways…

[anna-scribbles]

h-how do you ever finish any of your work? genuine question because you seem to be productive despite your agreste syndrome and I need to learn your ways. but also how do you ever finish any of your work

unclear. last night i stayed up and finished a report worth 25% of my grade at about 5am, arrived on time for my 9am lecture, and spent about half of it zoned out while thinking about seventeen year old emilie agreste. and i was one of the most active participants in the class discussion

[thomaskong]

Remembering how devastating triage was when it hit peak angst and suddenly getting very scared for where 4 minutes could be headed

[whomeidontknowthem]

Eyes on me – an interactive whump story. Part 5.

Previous part. Masterpost.

Content: institutionalized slavery, imprisonment, dehumanizing language, it/its for an inhuman whumpee, pet whump, whipping, blood, physical abuse, withholding of food, training, torture, intimate whumper, carewhumper, mentioned pet death, tell me if i missed something

Lord Teelo didn’t strike. 

He lowered his arm, eyes never straying from holding the creature’s terrified gaze. The room reeked of blood, now streaming down the lord’s fingers in a warm waterfall. He worked hard on pushing his fury back, taking it under control as many times before. He was in control. He would show it, careful and persistent and levelheaded. He would make sure it remembered the lesson forever. The crop was not meant for punishments, it was too short, too soft – he hadn’t meant to punish it. He was going to be a kind and gracious owner. It had left him no choice!

He opened the door, finding the redheaded guard still in the corridor.

“Get a proper whip,” he ordered. “More chains – gods damned handcuffs, whichever idiot thought of leaving it like this?! And a knife, scissors – or whatever, something to file its atrocious claws.”

The guard stared at him, not in the face – at his arm. Lord Teelo felt it – the consistent drip-drip-drip of his blood. He didn’t feel the ache yet. Nothing but the quiet, cold fury he couldn’t wait to unleash at the world. Haltingly, the guard started, “Should I bring someone to take a look at–”

“I have told you what you should do,” his voice came out as a hiss.

“Yes, my lord,” the guard saluted and hesitated only a moment before running down the corridor. 

Lord Teelo closed the door with a loud crash. He paced inside, steps echoing around the room, as the pain slowly started to radiate out. He hated it. Oh how he wished he could slice the thing’s skin just this moment, not waiting for anything and anyone. He picked up the crop once more, stoped before the creature – it cowered to the very corner between the wall and its cage, never letting its eyes away from him. Oh, now it was looking. It dared to look! 

“You think yourself smart?” the lord hissed. “Think you did something good for yourself? Oh, no, you’re gonna regret this. You’re gonna regret this so much.”

The pain seeped into his consciousness with every heartbeat, radiant and nauseatingly familiar. He held a handkerchief to the cuts until it filled with deep red. He threw it away – it landed in a wet disgusting lump on the table, by the bowl of wet disgusting meat. Oh how the lord had tried to be a nice host, how he had tried to accommodate this, this– 

“Damned, ungrateful, hateful beast!” Lord Teelo roared. The glass of the bowl nearly slipped from his bloodied fingers when he grabbed it, and then shattered to thousands pieces to the side of the creature’s head. Its dinner fell onto the floor, useless. Oh, it wouldn’t get any, it would have to work, to beg for any crumb from then on – it would regret, regret it so much!..

The door slid open soundlessly after a short knock, letting in the heavy footsteps and the clanging of metal. The lord turned on his heels, facing the guard. “And why in the world have you not brought a damned healer!” he hissed. “Can’t you see I’m bleeding out!”

The guard blinked. “But you have–” 

“YOU DARE ARGUE WITH ME?!” 

He was struggling to breathe, chest heaving with effort. The blood was still warm down his arm, still bright on the broken glass and light wood of his floors. How could the idiot not understand!

There were chains in the guard’s arms and a leathery length of the whip. Lord Teelo snatched it and demanded, “Chain it up!” The guard hesitated, opened his mouth. “NOW!” 

He did. The lord watched as he came to the beast, careful with his steps, cautious of it. It squeezed itself deeper into the corner. Lord Teelo could see it shaking. He was delighted to see it shaking. The guard reached out, the first cuff prepared, and Lord Teelo watched from a step away as it lifted its hands up, close to its chest. Its teeth were bared, pupils wide and eyes wider. It tried saying something, but what came out was only a mess of sounds with no meaning. 

The guard squeezed its arm even as it tried to avoid it. It whined and fought back, tried getting out of the grasp, tried pushing him away, tried and fought and struggled as he cursed under his nose. Its claws went through the skin of his palm ripping out a sharp hiss. It managed to raise its hind leg as the cuff clicked around its wrist, its claws scratching against the metal in an effort that only delayed the inevitable. 

Lord Teelo had little patience left. He stepped forward, connecting his heel with the middle of the creature’s tail. It yelped, flinched backwards – its head connected with the wall, and before it could regroup the second handcuff was in place. After that, restraining its legs was only a matter of time.

“Turn it around,” the lord ordered. Chains clang as it fought in an ever increasing panic. “To the wall, yes… yes, just like that.” The locks rattled, forced closed. The guard let the key fall onto the ground, forcing the creature to kneel. It hid its tail between its legs, whining as its head was pressed into the wall. “Is the chain short enough? Will it be able to move?”

“I don’t think so, my lord,” the guard answered. 

Lord Teelo played with the whip, trying it out. “Good. Go fetch the healer– wait. I need – something sharp, something – to secure on its tail. See how it hides it? I need something it can’t hide from.”

The guard looked puzzled. He eased his hold in a test, and the creature threw its whole weight backwards, fighting the chains. They held. Kneeling, with its tail hidden and only back visible, it looked strikingly like a human. “Perhaps clothespins, my lord?” It wasn’t what he had in mind. What he wanted – it wasn’t that. Not this easy, tame solution.

“It would work,” he drew out. He would go to the smith when he had time. He had an idea, oh, that would be a genius idea. “Just this once."

He flexed his left arm and rubbed his right. It hurt as all deaths, but it had stopped bleeding. He failed to crack the whip the first time but managed it the second, inches from the creature’s back. The guard bowed, taking it as a sign to leave. 

The creature mumbled and mumbled more, sounds a meaningless mush falling from its tongue. If Lord Teelo was generous, he could see it as an apology; he would not even entertain the possibility of giving in to it, of course. 

The second crack was right by its ear. It flinched and curled up further but couldn't hide.

It wailed when the whip connected with its back – so loud, so quickly, taken by surprise. Lord Teelo bared his teeth in a smile and struck again, violent purple already flowering on the gray of its skin, and struck again without waiting – three, four, six, twelve hits in a row, as it flinched and writhed and cried out.

He paused afterwards, and saw as it tensed, first, its whole body shaking with the effort of breathing, hiccupping in what sounded almost like sobs. He waited, watching how it trembled more and more. He let it marinate in the anticipation, the fear coiling and coiling with no release, the stinging of its sore back growing as its patience ran thin. 

When it raised its head, just barely, as if to look, the whip snapped through the air again. 

It screamed out. He didn’t give it time to recover. 

The lord hit it with no pattern, pausing and continuing at his leisure, until his arm grew heavy with pain and the creature nearly silent. Lord Teelo could only hear its labored breathing, air forced out of its body with every strike. Its back bloomed with purple that gave way to red when the skin opened, the new lines covering the rainbow pattern in an unstructured, repulsive mess.

Oh, he nearly pitied it, trembling pathetically in the corner. Then he rubbed his arm and the sharp pain was enough to remember why he didn’t. 

He struck for the last time, lazily, with his left, and then a few more for a good measure. When a polite knock announced the guard’s return, he felt pleasantly tired, like after a good work out. He called out for the man to enter. 

The guard did and the healer, an old woman the lord knew for most of his life, followed in. She looked the room over with stony, unreadable expression, and Lord Teelo met her gaze with a nice enough smile. “You’ve got your toy,” she stated and that was all the attention the creature got from her. 

She made a quick enough work of the wounds: cleaned and bandaged them up after applying that miraculous numbing cream the lord appreciated since early childhood. The creature would appreciate it even more, he thought, glancing at the pathetic thing. It had shifted at some point, stretching its legs just a bit but keeping its head hidden. Its body shook violently, trembling so much it in itself looked tiring. 

“Should I look it over?” the healer suggested, all business. 

The lord huffed, “What would the point of a punishment be then?” 

The woman looked him over with that annoying, unreadable gaze. “Call me whenever you change your mind,” she bowed and left when he dismissed her. 

Lord Teelo tried the clothespins with interest, forcing the spring to coil and then letting it go softly around his finger, just a tad, until it started hurting. “Good enough,” he concluded finally and got up. 

The creature flinched when his boots stopped by its form but didn’t try anything. “Poor thing,” he drew out and crouched, ran his fingers along its back lightly, brushing fingertips over the painful ridges of future bruises. Its breaths hitched, but it didn’t make a sound. “And all you needed was to not act like a brainless brat to avoid all this. You have no one but yourself to blame, silly thing,” he told it. It didn’t answer, shivering under his touch but not attempting anything stupid. 

“But maybe you can learn,” he hummed and moved his hand down to where its tail started. It tensed even further, if it was possible at all. “Let’s just make sure the lesson sticks, huh?” It curled up even further as he tagged on its tail, releasing from under the creature’s body. He flickered it back and forth and rubbed between his fingers and was satisfied when it sobbed and shuddered but remained motionless otherwise. 

“Like this, yes,” he muttered. With the softest touch of his second hand, he stoked its head. “But look at me now. Eyes on me,” It didn’t understand. He caught a fistful of its fur and tagged. “Eyes on me.”

Too drained to resist, it lifted its head as he guided it. “Eyes on me,” he demanded again, and it either guessed or truly learned – its gaze settled on him, focusing to the best of its ability – and, oh, what a pathetic mess it looked, eyes bloodshot and wet in ways he’d thought only a human's could be, dark lines from where it pressed into the floorboards marking its cheeks. There was something red around its mouth – did it bite itself, the poor thing? 

Lord Teelo clicked his tongue, smiled softly and released its fur. It settled back instantly, curling up again. Its tail remained in his hands. 

He picked up the first pin. 

It must have assumed at first that he was just playing like he had been, – at least, it didn’t seem to tense up too much, nor expect the sharp pain when he released the spring around its tail. It shuddered, head whipping up, staring at him once again. He smiled. Picked up the second clothespin. 

It tried to get its tail free – oh, it tried as much as it could without hurting him, but he tightened the grasp and played with the pins as it couldn’t help a new whimper, and hushed it and urged it to sit still. “That’s for you to remember the lesson better,” he told it pleasantly. It must have cried, body shaking again, and tried to kick just once, the movement stopped halfway through by a short chain. 

Lord Teelo wondered how many pins would be good for it – should he go with the whole set the guard had brought? He settled on five, at the end, a nice even number not even halfway through what he had. He was feeling rather merciful and forgiving, and it sounded just so pathetic. 

He called the guard in to urge it into the cage when it was done. It didn’t even try fighting, following the man's tagging and pushing until it was inside, drawing its limbs close and curling up to fully fit. Nearly immediately, its fingers itched towards the pins, human-like thumbs ready to work on the problem. Lord Teelo snapped his fingers to get its attention.

“No,” he said, words dripping with finality. He reached through the bars and tagged its tail outside. “The clothespins stay here for the night,” he told it. It probably didn’t understand – there was so little thought in its eyes. He let go of it hoped for its sake it understood what he meant. He didn’t want to have to punish it so soon for their lack of common language. 

When he went to sleep, the shaky breaths and the rare clanging when it tried to settle more comfortable sounded like a lullaby to his ears.

In the morning, his arm stung mercilessly and unendingly, and no melodies of birds and gentle sunrays could make his mood better. He turned lazily, letting his eyes fall onto the cage. The creature was curled inside of it, eyes shut tight and ears flickering restlessly. Its tail fluttered too, freed at some point from the pins, one of its hands curling around it protectively. 

Lord Teelo felt stuck between endearment and irritation. He moved and the cuts on his arm ached, and irritation won. 

“Hey… you,” he called and realized he hadn’t come up with a name. He should think about it as some point, he decided grimly, and banished the thought of the last pet he’d named, back in childhood. That was a just a cat, a stupid spoilt creature with too much attitude. The lord remembered the way it looked, painted red and unmoving, after crossing one too many lines. 

The creature didn’t move at his call, either. He picked up an extinguished candle from his bedside table and threw it towards the cage. “Hey!” 

There was no reaction. With an undignified groan, he forced himself on his feet and towards the cage. He rattled the key across the bars, the way that always seemed to get the creature’s attention.

It didn’t react. It was outright ignoring him! 

Had it learned nothing?!

He reached through the bars and tagged on its tail, finally getting some response in return – it flinched weakly and grimaced. Slowly, its eyes fluttered open, but didn’t settle on the lord. They looked as if through him, unfocused and dizzy, and a pang of worry cut through the just rage when they closed back and its chest heaved, struggling for breath. 

Something was wrong.

He reached through the bars and towards its forehead, forgetting for a second it wasn’t a human. The skin under his fingers was blasting hot and sickly wet. It moved closer to his fingers, all but nuzzling against him. 

Something was terribly, terribly wrong.

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