#and i mean that. listen boone was gonna do all that with someone and frankly it's not his fault locke is the most cult leader esque...

[livvyofthelake]

rewatching some lost season 1. white rabbit specifically. what was ian somerhalder's job on this show... just be useless and gay and then die? if so well done but damn that's it? i know it's kind of insane that he's been dead for so long and i'm still obsessed with him like i know this makes me sound like a man fan especially since i definitely talk about him way more than ana lucia and shannon. i know that. i read these posts too ok. but it's not my fault his gay ass is always at the scene of the crime ok i put this episode on for jack so i could talk about jack my best buddy jack. and then who's dumbass had to be saved from drowning 2 minutes in? yeah. anyway jack lost one of the tv characters of all time.... guy who cannottttt give up or let go or move on everrrrrrrr it will kill him. <3

[unicyclehippo]

prompt - beau is so very tired of feeling helpless / "i have no magic. all i have are my fists." (sometimes i think a lot about the multiple times beau's lamented that there's nothing she could do in a fight because she doesn't have magic)

‘to you, master wizard with the heart of flame,’ the silver dragon says, rows upon rows of gleaming teeth and an intelligence—a kind intelligence, even—in those enormous eyes, ‘a boon, for freeing me from these bonds. if i may,’

a sliver talon lifts, touches to caleb’s brow. they are sooted and sore after fighting their way through the tunneling depths of the sorcerer’s lair and when that talon touches to his skin, wounds begin to close and dust and grime and mudded blood-and-dirt seas and flake away as though they cannot stand to be in the presence of this dragon.

caleb’s eyes—already wide—widen further. they flash over with a silver gleam, and he breathes out shakily.

‘never again shall fire harm thee. never singe your hair nor burn at your skin. and when you call for her, she shall answer with fervour.’

‘t-thank you, oh dragon of silver,’ caleb murmurs, bows.

the dragon rises slowly from its nest, it’s captivity bed. it is slender, though whether that is natural or due to being held for so long, there’s no way to tell. its forelegs clutch at the edge of the nest and with a long, sibilant hiss that cracks and carves up from its gut like a pained groan, the silver dragon hoists itself up. steps with cavern-shaking steps down into the chamber. for though it may be slender, it is also immense—the talon that had so gently tapped caleb had been easily almost as tall as nott.

‘and for you,’ the silver dragon breathes. ‘glittering jewel, healer,’

‘jester. jester lavorre, um, your majesty?’

the dragon laughs a laugh of pealing bells, grand and silver. the sharp face seems to curl into a smile. ‘i am no majesty. simply a traveller.’

‘oh well, you know, maybe one day,’

‘perhaps,’ the dragon agrees. it bows it’s head, turns so that it may examine jester with an immense glowing eye. the pupil is entirely consumed by the sclera, the entirety of the eye mercurial gleaming silver.

they rely heavily on branding, dragons.

‘you are my kin,’ the dragon says after a moment. ‘you embrace the cold, as i do.’

‘oh! yes! i thought you were going to say we were long lost relatives or something, that would be so mysterious and incredible!’

‘it would indeed. i will look into it,’ the dragon promises. the creature is so immense and strange and frankly terrifying even weakened that it’s impossible to tell if they are just appeasing jester or if they mean it. ‘may i?’ when she nods, the dragon lifts their talon again. there is a flash of silver where it meets jester’s forehead and then gone.

‘what - what did it do?’

‘i have not the ability to grant flight. but wherever you may go, a friendly wind shall follow.’

‘a friendly wind,’ jester repeats, awed. ‘like, a fart?’

caleb and most of the others wince but the dragon booms its laugh again.

‘freed at last,’ it says, no shortage of wonder in its voice, ‘and a reason to laugh. it feels good.’

the dragon moves forward, slowly, toward the centre of the chamber. nott stands there and they exchange quiet words for short while, something beau thought impossible with the size of the creature. after a moment, the dragon pulls a small scale from the side of its neck—small meaning it is fully the size of a dinner plate in nott’s hands—and nods to her. to fjord, a breath of air so cold that when the fog has faded, icicles cling to his hair, his eyelashes. he tries to blink them away and then, with a smile, lifts his hand and seems to pull at the icicles—only to find that while the ones on his face did respond, so too did the immense icicles that cling to the ceiling. pulling a face, fjord releases the spell, thanks the dragon. to yasha, it plucks a hair, a strand of its whiskers, and says something to pull tears to her eyes. she is quick to tie the strand around her head like a headband or circlet. it gleams the same silver as the dragon.

‘grave keeper,’ the dragon says, seemingly delighted, when it sees caduceus. ‘what brings you so far from your charge?’

‘i am - looking to heal my home.’

‘heal it? from the sight of you, i would name you clay,’

‘you would be correct,’ caduceus agrees, smile blooming as he ducks his head. ‘and what may we call you?’

‘zoelfir. a name i owned long ago.’

‘zoelfir. good name.’

‘mm.’ the dragon pulls in a great breath, eyes half closed. ‘how fine it is to be free! how fine it is to hear my own name. you have done me a great service today.’ the talon comes up, pauses long enough for caduceus to nod, and the flash of silver. ‘to help protect your home, when it is righted.’

‘i appreciate your saying when, zoelfir. that’s very nice of you.’

‘i have faith, master clay.’

with that, an a benevolent smile, the dragon slowly stretches out their wings. the leather creaks and groans like sails in the wind but finally snaps out to their full span and with a roar the dragon pushes up off its hind legs and, wings beating a few times, weak and then stronger and stronger, zoelfir the silver climbs on a cold wind up the massive chimney of this space and into the biting cold of the storm above.

‘wow! i can’t believe we saved a dragon, you guys!’

‘do you think it makes up for the one we stole from?’ fjord asks. ‘balance and all that.’

‘you know, i don’t know. i could ask the traveller.’

‘i think they are too separate for anything to change, any animosity to be eased,’ caleb says. his eyes are still glowing faintly as he examines his hands. for a moment, it almost looks as though there is flame in his very veins but then the moment passes; a trick of the light, probably. ‘what think you, beauregard? you are very quiet.’

beau blinks. looks over to caleb with an oddly serene, blank expression. ‘i think we gotta figure out how to get out of here.’

‘yes, but first,’ nott announces, popping up between them all, ‘pillage! zolly-‘

‘zoelfir.’

‘- said most of this shit belonged to the sorcerer and he doesn’t want it. she? they? zolly doesn’t want it so we’re welcome to take as much as we want! how cool is that!’

‘ah. were there restrictions to this grand gift?’

‘nothing that came from zolly. no scales, no blood, no teeth,’ nott tells caleb, gnashing her own sharp teeth. ‘other than that... as much as fits into the bag of holding, i guess?’

‘incredible.’

//

beau takes the second watch that night atop the mountain just inside the mouth of the cave. the others have long since fallen asleep and she’s tempted to do the same—exhaustion weighing heavily on them all. to fight the temptation, beau steps out of the magic hut and hunches, shivering, against the cold of the night and the storm.

the fog and snow parts in the distance. beau grabs for her bo and gloves—but the lack of crackling energy in them tells her they’re still dormant. she slips away from the hut, forward, to see what it is.

the same parting comes again. this time, beau can see it is more like a billowing, and she looks up in time to find zoelfir descending, wings buffeting the thick fog as the dragon looks for a safe perch. the claws crunch down upon ice and rock and zoelfir shakes out their body, spines and scales clacking with a metallic chorus as they do so. as the body shifts, and the scales sing, the body begins to contort and shrink until the gigantic form is only huge, and then much smaller—the size of an ordinary human. and beau loses them once again in the closing wall of fog until she hears the tap of boots.

the form zoelfir has chosen is female, seemingly at first glance. not too terribly tall, with vibrant silver hair that would only look aged from a distance. up close, as the dragon enters the cavern, it almost glows. the eyes, too, are still silver and retain their ability to see in the dark; they find beau where she stands and the dark skin the dragon has chosen creases with a wide smile.

‘good evening.’

‘hey. dope transformation.’

‘thank you.’ zoelfir holds out their hands, opens and closes them a few times into fists. ‘it is strange to have such small blunt appendages but it is not for always. simply to join you all for discussions, if i might.’

‘huh? oh, yeah, i’m sure everyone’d love that. just knock on the dome, caleb’ll let you in.’

zoelfir cocks their head to the side. ‘you say it as though you do not intend to join.’

‘someone has to keep watch.’

‘your eyes cannot see in this. what would be the point?’

‘i promised?’ beau suggests with a shrug. ‘i dunno. something to do. makes everyone feel safe.’

‘surely with my assurance that i saw nothing, you may join us?’

beau stiffens. looks down at the cold hand zoelfir has set on her elbow. ‘no. thanks.’

the dragon recoils slightly, pulls their hand from beau. ‘very well,’ they agree. ‘i shall go speak with your friend the wizard. excuse me.’

beau listens hard to the footsteps, the low hum of greeting as the others awake and welcome zoelfir into the hut. then, she hears someone leave.

‘beau?’

jester. of course it is.

‘are you coming inside? zolly said you were shivering out here.’

‘i’m fine.’

‘they’re going to tell us about how they got captured and about this really cool place in the north. fjord thinks it was that place that’s now a ruin, you know, just above where cad’s home is in the woods? but we don’t really know how long zolly has been caught here.’ jester moves a little closer when beau doesn’t respond or turn to look at her. ‘beau?’

‘sounds fun.’

‘yeah!’

‘i’m gonna keep watch.’

‘oh. really? all alo—do you want me to stay with you?’ she shuffles the last few steps closer to beau. nearly but not quite touching. beau can feel the warmth of her beside her and she knows she’ll have to head back into the hut soon if jester of all people feels warm.

‘no. no, go in and talk to the dragon. not a lot of people can say they’ve done that.’

she can see out of the corner of her eye the deep frown that crumples jester’s face. mostly confusion.

‘right, which is why you should come in too! zolly said there’s no one out there—‘

‘i’m not going in. someone has to keep watc-‘

‘beau, we’re safe, that’s silly,’

‘it’s what i can do!’ beau snaps, whirling on her, shaking off the hand jester set on her elbow. the exact same place zoelfir had set their hand. ‘i can do this!’

‘of course you can,’ jester agrees immediately. ‘but - ‘

‘please.’

jester looks fully dismayed now, which is the last thing beau wanted, and she steps in close enough that she isn’t touching but she feels like she is. she’s almost of a height with beau which means that beau has to turn her head to the side when jester moves in so that they don’t collide. she looks out into the flurry of white and feels her eyes sting with the wind.

‘is everything okay?’ she asks, setting her hands on beau’s waist. the light touch makes beau’s middle tense hard and she winces, feeling the pull of a vicious wound, only half healed. ‘i know it was a hard fight and not your best but,’

‘not my best?’

‘well,’

‘i didn’t land a single hit. i didn’t do fuck all to that sorcerer. i have my fists and a stick, jester, and that’s -‘ beau blinks a few times, shakes her head. with each shake, it’s like the fog is clearing and she sees what she’s been ignoring for - fuck - a while now. ‘it’s not enough.’

‘what do you mean?’

‘i mean i’m a human!’

‘caleb’s human!’

‘caleb can summon fey creatures and fireballs from the sky. he’s different from me. i just punch things.’

‘why are you saying it like that? it’s a good thing! you - you’ve saved our lives and, and for the truth out of avantika-‘

‘and for her fucking neck snapped right in front of us! that’s - i’m not saying it wasn’t what she deserved but that’s on me.’ beau scrubs at her face with the palm of one hand. steps back from jester and the hands still on her waist. ‘i can’t heal. i can’t shoot fire or control water or fly. let’s face it - the only reason i’m here is because i’m too much of a stubborn asshole to realise i’m way out of my depth.’

jester stares at her for a long moment. then, ‘why are you saying this now? why not earlier? why not - we can get you a magic sword or something, beau, or a familiar or you can join up with the traveller and he can give you powers and - ‘

‘jes. jes, no,’

‘why not? this is something we can fix!’ jester seems to realise what she has said at the same moment it hits; her eyes go wide as beau’s flutter shut, as beau takes a step back like she’s taken a physical blow. ‘that’s not what i meant.’

‘you’re not wrong,’

‘no, no i am, i am wrong,’

‘jester. we all know it. i’m not—‘ beau braces herself to say it. her throat feels tight and rough like she’s been screaming, or crying. ‘i’m not special. everyone else in this group is a hero - a wizard or healers or someone who literally fucking died and is remaking her body. or a literal angel. i’m just—some deadbeat criminal who became a librarian. even the dragon knows it.’

‘what do you mean?’

‘you can’t have missed it. they gave everyone a boon but me.’

jester had missed it, obviously. not that beau can hold it against her—it was obviously a big deal and distracting as all hell.

‘i get it. i didn’t help save them, not really.’ beau shrugs. shivers. ‘i’m - pretty tired. i think i’m gonna turn in early.’

jester just stares.

exhaustedly, beau just sighs. ‘g’night, jes. sleep well.’

[deadmomjokes]

ooh I'm so curious about your boon now. how myc of it are you willing to disclose? what's the setting? how does magic work?

I’m so flattered anybody’s interested in it at all! ^.^

I confess, I’m super, irrationally paranoid about idea theft, so I don’t share a ton of details outside of my writing group and alpha/beta readers, but I’m trying to get past that, so I’ll share a little bit and see if I can talk my anxiety down to sharing more later. Basically I say this to apologize for the fact that I’m being a bit vague here. It’s not because I’m offended you asked or anything, I’ve just got some issues of my own.

So the basic premise in a really shortened, simplified, and condensed version is as follows:

About 15 years before the story begins, there was a war with an evil sorceress. She basically converted all the other magicians to her side and they were just absolutely annihilating everyone. Three countries formed an alliance and ended up taking her out. Huzzah, day saved! The story picks up right before a big festival in honor of the 15th anniversary of the alliance’s formation. The alliance, while originally a military compact, has kind of spread into a trade compact as well.

The main character is the right hand to the King who initiated the alliance in the first place. His name is Ayris. He has no last name (other than his title, “Kingsman”) because he more or less washed up on shore and the King found him. He was kidnapped as a child from his home country by some of the sorceress’s goons and had his memory wiped and they intended to bring him to the Sorceress as a kind of sacrifice. Because he’s super magic. Only after they left is when the alliance was formed and so they had no idea that the war had ended and their boss was dead. They get home and go “oh crap,” and the King rescues this little boy and goes “oh crap” because this kid is magic, and people are kind of super duper against magic right now on account of the fact that magic folks just tried to wipe them all out. But he’s a big softie and doesn’t want anything to happen to this kid so he takes him in to keep him safe. Over the years, he realizes Ayris has a talent for fighting and is super smart and super observant, so he promotes him from ward to his bodyguard, and then to a kind of all-around advisor.

And that’s where Ayris starts his journey: Content with being his King/adoptive father’s right hand man, and hiding his magical abilities because if anyone knew he’d more or less get burned at the stake.

The complications?

First, one of the nations in the alliance is super xenophobic, and they don’t like that Ayris is a “foreigner.” Even though the poor kid has no memories other than the country in which he now lives. But he ~looks different~ too- he has dark skin, white hair, and blue eyes, in a country full of tan-ish average white folks- so there’s no hiding the fact that he’s not originally from here. So he’s got to deal with all that while still acting as the King’s right hand, which means he cannot avoid the xenophobes’ leader because he’s gonna be right there with the guy the whole time.

And, of course, we have the Big Problem: The Sorceress managed to survive, as most evil magicians will, of course, and she’s back because she has a score to settle. Specifically with Ayris’s King, who dealt the ‘killing’ blow. Which, another major subplot: Ayris does not know that. He has a Batman code about killing. He refuses to take a life, and as far as he knows, the King shares that determination, because he’s very vocal about talking things out instead of resorting to violence. All that is a very formative concept for Ayris. So when he finds out that his King saw no other way to deal with things and resorted to straight up killing, he has... a LOT to process. Because....

The issue is that the Sorceress needs batteries, essentially. She’s almost out of power just from sustaining her spirit for a decade and a half. So she subsumes all the kids who had been born magic and didn’t know it since her downfall, only surprise! When she reaches out to snatch them, she finds a grown man! Ayris is all like, “Excuse? Who are you and what do you want with all these small children?” and she’s like, “Excuse? I ate all the magicians last time.” and he’s like “I beg your pardon?” Because it turns out that after she turned the magicians to her side, she decided that was too much a liability and so she snatched all their powers, killing them. Why did she decide they were a liability? Another subplot! A few of them resisted her and tried to break free of her control, but it went horribly wrong and only one of them survived, but was totally severed from her magic powers. We actually meet that character- she’s a major foil (and hardcore frenemy) for Ayris.

BUT ANYWAY

The Sorceress and Ayris are now more or less linked because of the way magic works in this world, and she’s bent on turning him or controlling him because he’s pretty dang powerful. (Which is why her goon squad kidnapped him in the first place.) She has all kinds of tricks and is basically pushing buttons from the inside to break him down, so he’s dealing with an evil lady in his head who’s attached to his powers. So of course the easiest way to isolate and mess with him would be to mess with his magic and make it hard to control. So he’s trying to keep the King safe from her hit squad, make nice with the xenophobes, and hide his powers despite this chick messing with him and trying to out him. They also have to find a way to get rid of her before she builds her army up again and goes for Round 2, and find a way to get her out of his head before she manages to take him over like she did to all the other magic folks last time.

As for how magic works, it’s described in text as a second world laying over the top of this one. Most people exist in only one world, the one you where your body is, and that’s where their soul lives, too. But some people are born with part of their soul in the other world, called the Tapestry. These people have the ability to manipulate things in the physical world because of this connection to the Tapestry. They also have an inherent connection to everyone else who is a part of the Tapestry, hence how the Sorceress can consume peoples’ power and influence them so easily. Of course, doing anything to influence or harm others in the Tapestry was always taboo, she’s just the first that managed it on a large scale and escaped the punishment.

Powers could be more or less unlimited in type and scope, but because you still exist in the physical world as well, you’re bound by your body. What happens to you in the physical happens to you in the Tapestry, and vice versa. So if you kill someone’s Tapestry self, their body dies. If you hurt someone’s physical body, their Tapestry self is also hurt. (The sorceress managed to discover a way to separate her physical and Tapestry selves, and that’s how she escaped death.) But the point is, doing magic takes energy from your body, so the more and bigger you do, the harder it is, and you could, in theory, kill yourself if you tried something big enough.

Most magicians have a specific kind of magic that comes most naturally for them, so they would often specialize. Anyone can do any kind of magic, but individuals would often train in what “called to them” most. So one guy might specialize in telekinesis, another might specialize in all things water, one might specialize in healing humans, etc. The only kind of magic that was forbidden was altering or influencing peoples’ minds or will, and that’s what made the sorceress evil- she felt drawn to/called by Feelings, other peoples’ emotions. She was a natural empath, and wanted to turn that into manipulating how people felt and thought in order to settle conflict, but that was forbidden. She didn’t want to be controlled, so she ran away from the others, started exploring and experimenting on her own, and started messing with things that she shouldn’t have and ended up kind of warping her own sense of justice and morality by toying with things she couldn’t control or understand. So now she’s bent on domination and subjugation of people who won’t willingly listen to her, all in the name of trying to bring peace and balance and justice (which was the code of the magical order she belonged to).

I know that’s long to be a summary, but this is a very, VERY long and complex story. To the point that this is going to be two books minimum. I’m about 15 chapters into the first one and working on the first round of structural edits so I can get on to writing the back half of it (more like the back 3/4, like I said, this is going to be a LONG story).

Oh, you also asked about setting! I confess to yet another late-Middle Ages European base, but culturally I tried to diversify more. The country of Xenophobes is a polytheistic theocracy with notions of manifest destiny that they’re just barely holding back on because they’re friends with the neighbors now. The country the story takes place in is culturally not super religious, and highly tolerant for the most part, which is why it’s so sad that everyone turned against the idea of magic. The third country straddles the line between the hyperconservative and frankly quite annoying theocracy and the (moderately agnostic) more liberal, understanding nation to their south. They also have a pantheon, but they allow religious freedom (also, fun tidbit, their King is gay and has a husband and an adopted son); however, they don’t allow women in combat (whereas the country Ayris is a part of does), and the people are generally more skeptical of foreigners than Ayris’s country is (except their king; he LOVES Ayris and is more or less the fun uncle).

So yeah! Book One is Ayris discovering a lot about himself, magic, and the past, and dealing with the fallout from that, and trying to find a way to protect himself and his King. And Book Two is the bigger, multinational conflict and inevitable war, and Ayris dealing with the sorceress attacking him personally and trying to find a way to stop her while the world starts falling apart around him. I don’t want to say too much more because some Stuff Goes Down in the first book that’s influential to the second one, but also kind of a surprise at this point.

Thanks for listening and letting me gush. I’ve been working on this story-- the concept, worldbuilding, and then the actual writing of it-- for a cumulative 8 years now. It’s my baby almost as much as my actual baby, and I’m very protective of it and also terrified of letting anyone see it. The mortifying ordeal of being known and all that. (Luckily my writing group is super helpful, patient, and kind!)

[heamatic-a]

Because I’m a heathen for Hanzo x Cassie, please do all for the nsfw meme! (Bonus if your answers all involve my fire boi 🔥 )

In-Depth Sinday Meme

What is your muse’s favorite place(s) to be touched?Herhips and navel are especially sensitive. Grabbing her there,caressing, nibbling, kissing: if he wants to make hersquirm, that’s the way to do it. Her neck is also very sensitive.Kiss her at the junction between neck and shoulder and she willliterally melt into Hanzo’s arms in an instant, no questions asked.

Are there any foods that are likeaphrodisiacs to your muse?Natural honey. There’s justsomething absolutely sensual about honey that will turn her on nomatter what. The taste, the texture, the way it’ll flow slowly fromthe dipper, it’ll invoke eroticism that could very well be enoughto drive her wild – give her a honeycomb andshe’ll melt along with it. Honey contains boron which is known toregular hormone levels and nitric oxide which is released in theblood during arousal.

Are there particular scents/soundsthat turn your muse on?Possibly, the reasons she so oftenimagines her fantasies relating to Hanzo to be around the Fire Gardenand its surroundings is because she feels the scent of the JapaneseMaple is very soothing and calming to her, but also does serve as asort of aphrodisiac to her.

Does your muse enjoy dirty talk? Dothey like to do the talking or being dirty talked?Oh god,yes, a lot. She likes it when her partner does the dirty talking, likewhisper things in her ears, either before or during – even after.It doesn’t have to be “dirty”, just the tone used is enough forher, so when Hanzo speaks to her in that poetic way, even, she justabout goes crazy with it; even more so if it’s whispered in herear.

What are some subtle gestures thatget your muse in the mood?Most subtle would be eye contact,longing and lasting – she’ll usually take it as a sign; a caresshere and there, a kiss. She’ll take it as an okay to take thingsfurther.

How does your muse communicate toothers they they’re in the mood?With touch, mostly. It’snot unusual for her to give a hug to someone she’s close to – butwith Hanzo, if she’s in the mood, she’s constantly touching hisshoulders, brushing off against him, caressing his face, and althoughit’s not always for that reason (sometimes it’s for reassurance, like inour sleep thread), she’ll caress his hair; that generally meansshe’s ready to take it further.

How does your muse flirt?Thething with Cassie is that her mannerisms sometimes make it seem likeshe’s flirting when she isn’t necessarily. She’ll wink, do the‘i’m watching you’ gesture during a spar, but depending on theperson, it means something different. Doing it to Hanzo, it’sdefinitely flirting. Doing the same to, for example, Takeda, is notat all flirting but friendly teasing.  

How does your muse approach someonethey want to sleep with?She rarely does. She does have afear of rejection that’s enough of a problem to warrant herstepping back unless the other makes the first move. I’m talkingabout the first time she gets with a partner, of course, becauseafter that, she’s a lot more open and will be more prone toinitiate it.

What are some physical things yourmuse does when they want someone to sleep with them?Shegets very touchy and handsy. She’ll give a caress, hold hands, touch hisshoulder. Get closer to him. She’s not very touchy to begin with unless it’s with someone she’s very comfortable with, so inHanzo’s case, she was already giving hints she was willing to takethings further, but pulled back momentarily because she didn’t knowif he would respond.

How does your muse approachone-night stands versus long term partners?She doesn’t doone night stands. If she sleeps with someone, it means she reallylikes them and wants to pursue the relationship further. She’s notbeen lucky in that aspect as most of her partners left after a fewmonths at best, but with Hanzo she hopes it’ll last much longer.

Is your muse very physicallyintimate?Cassie is very physical by nature. She likes totouch, she likes to feel. She’s a glutton for it, in fact, and herhands will always be at work when they’re together in bed; it’s aneed for connection that drives her, and her show of affection isdone mostly with touch.

Is your muse very emotionallyintimate?She certainly can be. She shows it by taking careof her partner as much as she can, not just during sex but outside ofit too; slipping sweet words here and there, little hints that sheloves them and admires them.

Does your muse enjoy cuddling aftersex?She likes the intimacy after, really enjoys theaftercare. It can be something as simple as spooning, or cuddling, orit can be cleaning/washing each other, for example.

What are the requirements for yourmuse to sleep with someone?Her requirements have been morenumerous with maturity. It used to be that she simply enjoys theperson’s presence, but now it needs a much deeper connection thanthat. She’s wasted too much time with people who didn’t reallycare for her enough to stick around. It doesn’t have to be LOVE,per say, but she must possess a fine amount of trust in the person toget there nowadays.

Does your muse use protection? Ifso, what kind?She’s had the coil for about three yearsnow. The pill’s side effects didn’t cut it for her, although shewas on it for several years.

What is a fantasy your muse has?Oneof the fantasies she has with Hanzo is where she would tie him up bythe wrists, above his head, with something like silk or a softmaterial; and she would be the one to take care of him the whole waythrough; to touch and please him until he literally begs her forrelease. >>

Is your muse noisy in bed? Hownoisy? What makes them reach that level?She can be. Shetends to moan and squirm, but she will keep her voice at a certainlevel unless she’s brought to orgasm, at which point she can becomemuch louder while it lasts.

Does your muse enjoy teasing? Givingor receiving? How long can they stand it?She doesn’t mindteasing. It can be fun and pleasurable, but she much prefers givingthan receiving. As for how long she can stand it, it depends WHAT itis, but usually she gets impatient quickly.

How does your muse respond to peoplemaking advances on them?If she isn’t interested, she’lllet them know very bluntly. She’s very firm about it. If she is,she’ll be quite amiable and return the advances as said above,where she would become a lot more touchy in her own advances.

What is a kink your muse has? Howwould they bring it up to their partner?Anal penetration.Would she even bring it up to Hanzo? Not now, perhaps much later downthe line, but she knows it may be a taboo subject with someone likehim. If she feels he’s becoming more open to different ideas, shewould bring it up beforehand, but otherwise, she probably wouldn’t.

What is one sexual insecurity thatyour muse has?She’s generally pretty good with that, butshe does get somewhat self-conscious about the scars she’s gottenover the years while fighting, especially those left by Shinnok which are much more prominent. She hasa few in the back, and one across her belly.

What kills the mood for your museinstantly?Don’t belittle her. Insults, threats,humiliation, disrespect, she won’t have any of that, and will morethan likely kick her partner’s ass over it. In the case of Hanzo,she highly doubts he would go down that path, so she isn’t evenworried.

What gets your muse in the moodinstantly?One thing would be during a good friendly spar.She likes the idea of being spent and sweaty, and the whole thingturns into a something more that drives them back to Hanzo’s livingquarters. Another thing would be when they have one of those meaningful talks. She feels she can open up to him about anything, and he will listen to her and be there for her. It’s a huge turn on for her to have someone be so open like that, someone in whom she can confine, and vice versa. Basically, it goes back to trust all over again.

Does your muse enjoy roleplaying inthe bedroom?

She’s never tried it, but shecertainly wouldn’t be against it.

Does your muse prefer gentlelovemaking or rough sex?

She doesn’t mind either or, what’smost important to her is the connection she shares with her partnerat the time of them coming together and what both are most comfortable with. If Hanzo wants to be rough, she’ll be okay with it, if he wants to be gentle, she’ll be just as open to it. 

Is your muse the type to fall inlove from having sex or to leave it be?To be honest it HIGHLY depends on herpartner and how she feels about them prior the act. Generally, no,because her partners rarely stick around for very long. She’s notbeen very lucky relationship-wise and only held a relationship for afew months at a time. So she never really gets attached. However, inthe case of Hanzo, she’d liked him a while now, and frankly, noone’s treated her with as much care and respect as he has, so Iwouldn’t be surprised if she wouldn’t have fallen entirely forhim by the time they’re done in our thread.

What was your muse’s first sexualexperience?Shaun Boon, a few days after graduation. Theyhooked up and she thought they would last, but unfortunately itdidn’t go past a few weeks.

What was your muse’s best sexualexperience?This is gonna sound cheesy as all hell, but it’sprobably her first time with Hanzo, especially because it was one ofher fantasies come true; he takes such good care of her and so she’skinda on cloud 9 right now.

What was their worst sexualexperience?Again, Shaun Boon. Both were inexperienced, andhe didn’t much seem to know how to proceed. He was too fast andeager, and he hurt her when he entered her the first time and shehonestly did not have a good time. It took her a while after that to get with someone else.

Does your muse enjoy kissing?Caressing?Very much so. One of the things that will turnher on really quickly is kissing. Soft or hard, it doesn’t matter,the longer they kiss, the more turned on she will get. As for caressing, it goes back to how much she enjoys touching, so yes, she enjoys caressing a lot.

What is your muse’s favorite partof sex?That connection that comes with the firstpenetration. She’s extremely sensitive and quite often, if she’sbeen stimulated enough, she can be pushed to orgasm with the firstpenetration alone.

What is one area they’re great atduring sex?Worshiping the other. She really likes to give,she’s a giver by nature, and while she enjoys receiving, she feelseven more at ease when she gives attention to her partner.

What is one area they could use improvement in duringsex?Where she can have a big mouth in general and have arebuke for just about anything, she tends to be more shy in bed, soshe doesn’t talk as much. She knows she needs to talk more to addto the involvement. She’s just afraid of saying something thatwould kill the mood.

[storytellingape]

mad about you

1521 words; clydeland

After Morgan, Stensland’s life sort of falls apart. ‘Sort of’ is actually putting it mildly. What happens is nothing short of catastrophic. First, he’s fired from his temp job at the furniture store. Then, after failing to pay the rent for the fourth month in a row, his landlord kicks him out. The worst part of it all is that he winds up through no fault of his own in Boone County, Wes Virginia: broke, friendless, and with no clear recollection of how he’d wound up there.

When Stensland tries to recall what might have led him to travel halfway across the country to what can only be described as ostensibly the middle of nowhere, what comes to mind is only a grey haze: flashes of memories too vague to whittle together into a concrete narrative. Liquor had been involved, naturally. As had been tears.

For a month he lives off Doritos and tins of Campbell’s mushroom soup before finding gainful employment at an innocuous little bar called Duck Tape where the job description remains largely unclear and his list of tasks ranges anywhere from entering a list of rolling expenses into a spreadsheet to mopping up vomit from the grimy bathroom floor.

Mostly he just stands around watching his boss, Clyde, serve drinks at the bar one-handed. He’d lost his hand during a tour in Iraq and now wears a prosthetic arm though by no means does that make him any less adept at making cocktails or driving stick shift or punching people in the face when they’re being a dick.

By all accounts, Stensland has no business working at the bar but for some reason Clyde keeps him around even if he can’t mix drinks to save his life and has the tendency to hog the jukebox whenever his favourite song comes on. Stensland can even barely hold his liquor: two shots and he’ll spiral into a bout of self-loathing, four and he’ll start taking off his clothes. It’s become a bit of a problem with Clyde having to wrangle Stensland off the pool table and lock him in the backroom until he promises to at least put his pants back on.

Then there’s  the problem of Clyde himself which vacillates between horribly annoying to downright embarrassing. He’s got most of the qualities Stensland enjoys in a person: nice without being too nice, a good ear for stories, with a handsome face that rakes in tips.  And he has an accent - jesus - so that when he forms words slowly and very carefully with his mouth, Stensland’s spine sings just a little. In short, Clyde is a good guy and Stensland could date him if he weren’t dead inside and doomed to a life of heartbreak — would have, maybe, in another life; they would have the cutest children.

*

Duck Tape is just like any other small town bar: dim and cosy, with pool tables and an old jukebox, a counter top that’s never not sticky and a bathroom that hasn’t seen better days since 1987. The profits come and go and so do the number of customers though Stensland has learned over time to remember names and faces, telling apart first timers from the crush of usual patrons, haggard guys clad in denim from head to toe often with the gait of the road-weary. Usually they’ll be trickling in late from work and seating themselves in their favourite corners.

Clyde makes strong drinks, has a generous pour, and he never forgets a face. He’s a good listener, smiling at all the right intervals, offering a drink on the house whenever the situation calls for it.

The first month, Stensland keeps dropping things and ends up almost breaking the ice machine. The second, and he’s close to having a breakdown, his arms aching all the time from lugging boxes of this and that to the store room. By the third, he’s still somehow employed but no less frazzled when Clyde has him working behind the bar, handing him bottles and refilling drinks. But he gets used to it, eventually, and gets better at deflecting wayward hands flitting in the general direction of his arse, falling into a rhythm of waking up late in the afternoon to choke down two coffees and work a twelve, sometimes fourteen hour shift.

Often, he gets home at seven in the morning, full of breakfast/dinner courtesy of Clyde. Clyde drops him off because he’s got a car, and because, he claims, it’s not out of the way at all, even though he lives in an opposite direction altogether; they listen to Motown on the radio with the windows pulled down, the wind making hell of their hair, and drive through sleepy roads still empty of traffic, sometimes talking, sometimes not.

He can get used to this, Stensland thinks as he tips face-first into bed after barreling straight through the front door, too tired to change out of his clothes. He listens to the soothing rumble of Clyde’s car driving off, kicking off his shoes and shimmying under the covers; then he’s asleep within seconds.

*

Stensland doesn’t have a lot of friends in Boone County; his entire social life revolves around Clyde and his family: there’s Mellie, his sister, gorgeous just like him, and tall, and Jim, who comes around  the bar for free drinks sometimes bringing his precocious five year old daughter along.

On Sundays, when the bar is closed, Stensland sleeps in and wakes only to piss, shower, and eat because he’s hungry. Sometimes if he’s lucky, Clyde invites him to family barbecues, the location of which changes from time to time depending on whose turn it is to host it. This time it’s Clyde’s, and Stensland shows up bringing nachos, only because he’d feel like an interloper otherwise. Clyde’s house is small, but charming, a bungalow with a shingled roof and wrap-around porch, an actual white picket fence. There’s a bouncy castle set up in the lawn for the kids, and Stensland can already see Clyde slaving away at the grill even from a distance away, taking intermittent sips from a beer bottle and waving away bees. He’s wearing an apron over his clothes. He shouldn’t look good wearing it. But frankly, the man can wear a blanket and still look good, so the sight of him makes Stensland feel a bit faint though no more than usual.

“Hey,” Stensland says as he approaches, dodging a wayward kid on his way to the bouncy castle.

Clyde offers him a small smile. Stensland dies just a little. “I was lookin’ everywhere for you. I thought you were gonna flake on me.”

“Me?” Stensland laughs. “Never.” He sets the bag of Nachos on the table next to the array of other foodstuff: bowls of corn chips, some dip, plenty of coleslaw, a mountain of cornbread. “Need help with the grill?” he offers.

Clyde raises his good hand. “Nope, I got this. Now you just sit there and look pretty and enjoy yourself because you’re my guest and not working today. All right?”

Stensland flushes at being called pretty. Clyde doesn’t mean it of course; it’s just an expression. Still, it makes him oddly shy, and he bounces back on forth on his heels before confessing, “I don’t know anybody here.”

Clyde doesn’t look up from flipping a beef patty. “You can sit here then, if you’d like. Keep me company. I don’t know anybody neither. It’s mostly Jim’s friends from high school.”

“What about your friends?” Stensland asks.

Clyde just shrugs one shoulder, like that answers it. “There’s beer in the cooler.” He points to it with a spatula, and Stensland lets out a triumphant noise when he pops the lid off a Corona. It tastes like shit, but at least it’s free.

Free keeps him from going hungry. Stensland barely has any savings. He’s subletting a room/apartment in someone’s backyard, a square featureless building that had formerly been storage space, with terrible insulation and only one window looking out into a grey fence. The landlord sometimes forgets to unlatch the side-gate, resulting in Stensland having to climb inelegantly over the railing more times than not, with Clyde watching from the car and offering to help, giving him a boost that sometimes results in Stensland kicking him in the nose or straddling his face. Stensland’s whole living situation is shit, but it’s the only one Stensland can currently afford. He has a roof over his head, a mattress and an electric kettle. He can’t really complain.

[voidy-classpects-blog]

I have a session analysis request, but it's super big (10 players) so I understand if you choose not to do it. The players enter the session as two groups that worked against each other for a long time. Group one: Heir of Doom (the leader), Thief of Mind (Heir's right hand), Mage of Void (Heir's ex-partner), Maid of Space, Witch of Light (Maid's sister). Group two: Knight of Hope (the leader), Sylph of Time, Seer of Doom, Maid of Mind, Rogue of Breath (Maid's brother). Thank you!

Oh boy, this is a big one. This one’s been sitting in the inbox while I answered other asks at my slightly-faster-than-a-snail pace, and I’ve been thinking of how this session would turn out. I’m assuming that your players enter the session still working against each other, Let’s take a look at this clusterfuck of a session, shall we?

Heir of Doom, one who passively manipulates or is manipulated by Doom. Oftentimes becomes their aspect. This is a tough title to have, especially for the leader of one group. They’re a powerful player, despite the flaws. The rules always seem to bend around them, and they can bend the rules for their teammates too. But, eventually, they’re going to become Doom. This could mean a variety of things. They could become a reaper-like figure who spreads death wherever they go. They could become intrinsically connected to the fates of those around them. Or, most ominously, following Mituna Captor’s example and becoming sacrifice/death. Sacrificing their life, sanity, or some other critically important thing in order to save their teammates. Either way, tragedy is just waiting for the Heir of Doom. If they die, I would personally look to the Mage of Void or Maid of Space for leadership. The Witch of Light is an arrogant person, frankly kind of a know-it-all sometimes, and the Thief is… well, a Thief.

Thief of Mind, one who steals Mind for their own use. In a session fraught with difficulty, a huge clusterfuck of a Sburb game, this is one of the biggest problem players. Thieves are arrogant, selfish, and egotistical no matter the aspect. They are often widely disliked by teammates, but always advance the session in critical ways nobody else can. The Thief of Mind steals Mind, the aspect of logic, intellect, justice, and karma, for their own use. They’ll be one of the smartest players in the session, but at the cost of Mind for everyone else. This risks being critically problematic, especially if they should steal Mind from either the Heir or the Maid, who are the critical players on the Thief’s team.

Mage of Void, one who understands Void by experiencing it. So, this is either going to be a really useful player or someone who makes almost no impact at all, depending on the greater factors of the session. If it’s a session full of greater-scope shenanigans, such as the Furthest Ring and the Horrorterrors, the Mage of Void is one of your greatest assets. They know everything about the Void. They’re the eminent expert on anything Void-related. They know what secrets people have, and they can hide their secrets flawlessly. Personally, I’d hope for some greater-scope shenanigans in this session. Worth noting however is their prior relationship with the Heir. If they broke up on poor terms, and the relationship is still contemptuous, then the Heir may not want to listen to the Mage. The Mage’s advice falls on deaf ears, with few allies.

Maid of Space, one who creates/creates with Space. This is a great Space player to have. As your session’s Space player, they’re tasked with breeding the Genesis Frog and creating the new universe. They’re the creation class of the creation aspect, so frog breeding comes naturally to them. They’ll have an easy time with the most important job in the game. Or, they would, if your session’s Time player wasn’t on the opposing team…

Witch of Light, one who manipulates Light. And here’s your Witch. Witches are frankly overpowered players who almost always impact the session in huge ways. Combined with this being a Light player, the aspect whose players are always important to the session, the Witch will definitely be very important. I’m not entirely sure how they could impact the session. But Light is the aspect of knowledge, fortune, luck, and importance. The Witch will probably be a major boon due to the luck part in particular. They’ll be able to manipulate the amount of luck that teammates have. This is especially useful with the Heir of Doom, who will almost certainly die if particularly unlucky. With the Witch around to manipulate knowledge and luck, not only will the Heir’s chance of survival increase, they can also offset the harmful effects the Thief has on the session.

And here’s the second group.

Knight of Hope, one who exploits/weaponizes Hope. Knights’ sessions always have a lack of their aspect. There’s simply not enough. Thus, the session won’t have enough Hope. This is… problematic, to say the least, especially with the nature of your session. A lack of Hope means the players aren’t very motivated. They don’t see the point. It must be a doomed session anyway, right? The Knight needs to help their teammates overcome this. Keep fighting, use what Hope you have and at least try to win the session. That’s what everyone needs to do.

Sylph of Time, one who creates/heals Time or with Time. As the Time player, the Sylph needs to help the Space player breed the Genesis Frog and stop the timeline from becoming doomed. The Sylph is especially good at the latter part. They can heal Time. Potentially even healing the timeline! Doomed timeline? No, it’s okay, the Sylph is here. Everything’s gonna be okay. However, they’re on the opposite team as the Space player. This is an issue, since the two cardinal aspects need to work together to win the session.

Seer of Doom, one who sees Doom and uses it to guide others. Here’s a critical player. Your session has a variety of factors working against it. The Heir of Doom has a potentially ominous fate ahead of them, there’s a Thief present in the session, there’s not enough Hope, and the most important players are on opposite teams. Who can fix these? Well, the Witch of Light probably could, but also the Seer of Doom! They can see that if your session keeps going the way it is, it’s doomed. No chance of victory whatsoever. Everyone dies and fades into nothing unless you Scratch, and even that’s a difficult endeavor. The Seer needs to tell everyone about this, on both teams, and get them to put aside their differences.

Maid of Mind, one who creates/creates with Mind. A very useful player for this situation. Everyone is probably going to be a little averse to the idea of teaming up with the opposite team. The Maid of Mind will create logic, showing everyone that it’s the best thing to do. Your session stands zero chance of victory if you can’t get everyone to team up. The Maid of Mind will need to work with the Seer to convince everyone to put aside their differences and be friends. Sburb, at its core, is a team game. You cannot win Sburb as a competitive game. That is the simple truth of it.

Rogue of Breath, one who steals Breath for the use of others. The Thief of Mind is a very problematic player, and if given too much freedom risks dooming even a unified session. The Rogue can steal the Thief’s freedom, restricting what they can do, and giving that freedom to other players. A simple supportive player, but very useful for mitigating problems stemming from other players.

Overall? This session’s success rate is heavily dependent on if and when the two teams can get together. The earlier the better. The lack of Hope in the session is going to be a problem, as will the fact that there are two teams to begin with. But your chances are actually pretty good. If your session can achieve complete unity, then you’ll definitely win the session barring any massive, unprecedented issues. The MVP of the session is the Seer of Doom, for being the one most likely to unify the two teams to begin with. I will say that unity will still be difficult, considering the two leaders. Hope and Doom are like oil and water. They don’t get along at all. Players of their aspects do not get along. It won’t be too big of an issue, but still something to watch out for. I’m going to give this session a 0/10 if they can’t get their act together (again, you cannot win Sburb if you play it as a competition), and 7/10 when unified. The biggest problem for a unified team is the general lack of offensive presence. Only the Heir and Knight are especially noteworthy in terms of attack power. Everyone else is mainly supportive, so large-scale team battles might be a little difficult.

And there you go! That was a fun session ask. Really crazy though, so try not to let everything completely fall apart. 

[limitedrevolverworks]

[>>>]

“Aaand that’s about it. What’s your verdict, Doctor Sakuramiya?”

You’ve never really been the kind of person to bite your nail nervously, but that’s what your body resorts to in a futile attempt to feel at ease during the tense pause that follows your recounting of this afternoon’s earlier events. Funny that... you’ve always found the concept of parents who feel envy towards their children nonsensical, yet here you are now, wishing you could brush off a serious talk like this on a mere whim. Wishing Tomoyo was the one talking your ear off about this super duper cute drawing of a dinosaur a kid at her kindergarten school drew or something like that, instead of silently pondering on your exposed weaknesses.

If there’s a silver lining to take solace from, it is that going over your talk with Kyouya has significantly cleared your head up. Not completely, no, but there’s a concrete difference between a tangled mess of threads and a neatly rolled yarn ball. You’re still far from coming up with an answer to the question you’ve posed yourself - what to do about Kyouya’s situation, okay, but you’ve stopped feeling like punching holes through a wall to relieve your stress. That’s gotta be something, right?

“Mmmmh! Alright, I got it.”

Calm down, woman! Sit up straight any faster and they’d have to unscrew your head from the ceiling. Aaah, can’t help it, can you? Even sitting seiza-style on the couch and all. It’d be quite a scene for anyone entering now, but fate has decided to be merciful for the first time today and let you hear your friend’s pearl of wisdom without impediments. Insert dramatic drumroll here...

“You... are definitely overthinking things.”

“Ah?”

That’s it? is what you’d be yelling at your innocent phone, if you weren’t too busy being paralyzed by sheer disbelief that the friend you trusted so much to solve your own problems for you would betray you with such nonsense.

“Himawari-chan... you always, always do that. ‘I messed up badly! It’s my fault for being selfish!’... Having thoughts like these is so like you! Worrying that you didn’t care enough just means you cared a little too much.”

Too much...? No, that made no sense at all! It was your fault! You were too caught up in your selfish projections to notice what was actually going on with your kid, right?! Otherwise you wouldn’t be so worried about what you should do or even if you should do nothing to ensure his well-being and... oh. Oh.

“See? That’s a mother for you~! Thinking of her children even while preoccupied with herself.”

“But... b-but...!”

“No buts, you big silly crybaby!”

Who’s cry---oh, you are crying. Sniffling like a real infant, at that, and you didn’t notice until someone else pointed it out for you - over the phone, to boot! Ooh, that stings even more than the tears reddening your eyes.

“Whaddo I dooden...”

“Well, you should know already! Look, the only question you should be asking yourself now is: do you love Kyouya?”

“‘Ccouse I doo!” Don’t yell just because nobody’s in the house to listen to you, Miss Lawyer.

“There you go then! Just follow your heart and tell him your honest feelings. A mother’s job is to tell her children what to do. It’s up to the children to decide whether to listen or not. Forcing your hand is a no no! But you wouldn’t do that, would you, Mawari-chan?”

“I...” Sniff! “ I guess.”

“Yep, because the Mawari-chan I know has a rough mouth, is quick to resort to her fists and overthinks simple things a lot, but she’s also kinder than an angel.

“Oh shaddap. You fogget dis angel married a debil.”

“Naturally! Who else but an angel would have done that, after all?”

It’s a good thing Tomoyo’s laugh sounds so soothing, because yours at the moment sounds like an attempt at choking your own throat. Frankly, however? You don’t give a damn. You’re alone in your living room wearing a mask made of your own tears, bu the laughter you’re sharing with your dear, dear friend is the most genuine you’ve had since what feels like forever, and it seems to last just as long.

“Feel better?”

“Mhm, yeah. Thanks, Tomo. I knew it was a good idea to bother you.”

“There’s nothing bothersome about hearing from my cherished friend Mawari-chan. Well...”

“Just a little bit, right? Sorry, I swear I’m gonna make up for it somehow. I owe you at least that much.”

It’s easy to imagine Tomoyo shaking her head with that tranquil smile of hers on the other side of the conversation. You’ve witnessed it up front too many times to miss the cue even when you’re so far apart.

“It’s fine, Mawari-chan. If you really feel like repaying this non-existent debt of yours, make it so that your next call will be to deliver some great news, okay?”

Listen to her, the woman who has the gall to call people other than herself angels. That she hasn’t married yet is just proof that nobody’s a great enough match for her. It’s only fair that you spend the long, long remainder of the call listening to whatever her brats have kept her so peppy about, and by the time you’re exchanging your heartfelt goodbyes, you feel rejuvenated. Looking in the mirror, after you’ve rinsed your face at the end of it all, you don’t see the weight of a billion doubts dragging your eyes down. It’s just you, the mother of your son, newly reminded that the world hasn’t ended just because of a difficult development in the latter’s life.

Nice timing too, because by the time you’ve gotten back to the living room, you find a portion of the floor in the middle of getting devoured by a miasmatic agglomeration from whence emit two ethereal protrusions most darkly. Your fingers curl into fists filled with empty air and determination that increase with each layer of unreality stripped away by the two shapes which, eventually, are revealed to be your Valdios VonVermillion, your husband dearest, with his pale hand placed atop the shoulder of your son Kyouya.

“A moist boon to the eyes parched by visions most dry: my beloved, I make my return to our humble abode with the dearly spawn of our bond.”

With a grandiose flourish, his mantle dissipates the tangible traces of obscurity that still cling to his gaudy suit and your child’s much more modest clothes, after which he takes a single step back that bears the significance of a thousand. That something is amiss is only made more evident by the fact that Kyouya’s cherubine visage is marred by the slightest hint of unease. Oh, how admirable your little boy seems, when he steps forward in such bold yet humble fashion! It’s obvious that, in the face of his intention to speak, you can only seal your lips and block the words that had been brewing behind them.

You squat in front of him instead: your eyes are more or less at the same level. There’s an unspoken agreement between the two of you already, as if the both of you feel aware that you spent the better portion of this afternoon reaching something resembling a mutual conclusion you can agree upon. Now, you have but to vocalize it.

“Hi, Kyouya.”

“Hello, mom. I thought a bit about that thing we talked about in the car.”

“Me too, actually.”

“I see.”

He casts his eyes down. Following them, you spot the fingers curled so tightly around the hem of his uniform, they might break their carefully painted nails anytime now. It’s a vision that speaks a lot more sincerely than the trademark smile unsupported by the gravity of his gaze. You can’t stop yourself from placing your own palms atop of his, and having a sincere smile waiting for when he raises his head again, so he can take some cues from it and reinforce his own. Looks like it worked just fine, even if his eyes seem ever so slightlty damp.

“I have decided to redefine the priorities of the group a bit. I think that it would be too dangerous to let things go back to how they were before it formed... I really do think that forming our group was a good thing! So from now on, we’ll try to steer clear of questionable activities and try to focus on stay on the clear side of things. Would... that be fine by you?”

It’s a wonder how you could have doubted for a single millisecond that your boy could have turned into a terrifying stranger all of a sudden. Why, it takes a single glance to recognize him: it’s the Kyouya you’ve raised and loved ever since you heard his first cry, the kind-hearted boy who truly, almost foolishly belives in the same justice that his mother fought to protect so, so long ago.

So, Himawari, would that be fine?

“Dammit kiddo, ‘long as you don’t make the teachers and me worry like that again, you can go blow the town for all I care. Now c’mere and give your mom a hug before she changes her mind.”

Too late to escape, Kyouya! No amounts of whiny Moooom’s will save you from this sappy ex-tomboy’s deadly Cheek-to-Cheek Smooshing Technique. Not that you look as displeased as you sound... is that a tear, perhaps? Quick, wipe it away or you’ll have suffer a killer Bear Hug Combo Climax! Mmh? What’s she whispering in your ear now?

“Also, don’t blow the town please.”

“I’ll try... unless it gets filled with crooks. In that case I’ll... nononono!”

“Why, you!”

.

..

...

....

.....

Ah, how sweetly the stomach named heart churns as it feeds on the feastful sight of the woman who holds the beating organ hostage tickling the unripe sides of your heir. The conundrums of his plane are mysterious now as they ever were, but ever fonder you feel yourself growing for quaint little moments like these, building blocks of a magnificent castle named ‘love’... yes, you are a slave to love. You, Valdios VonVermillion, can say without a shred of doubt in your wicked soul that you would renounce your former apocalyptic self thrice again, if you were granted the chance to live but a single of this and other such droplets that make up the tumultuous ocean which your life has turned into.

Smile! Grin! Indulge! Selfishly drink of this sight and rejoice that humanity shall forever be denied a happiness that is yours and none else’s! Ah, if only, if only they were granted the misfortune of awareness! To be granted knowledge of the joys which you robbed them off with your unholy matrimony! Your wife! Your children! Your life! Treasures the likes of which would make the Seven Hells burn green with the blazing flames of envy! To live for! To die for! Yes, there is great joy even in the mere act of accepting one’s seat in the sidelines instead of sharing the spotlight with the main actors of this mushy charade! To merely add your guffaw to the merry orchestra of your woman and your child’s laughter--

“Also, making a clique was totally dad’s idea.”

“Oi.”

A-ah, tempting terror! Suave ire! Five mouths agape with silent screams dot your shoulder, where your loveliest’s digits have burrowed like the spears that torment those who sinned the sin of deception. Your reflection in her gaze is a lost soul burning in flames hotter than those belched by Lord Asmoday’s throat after partaking of a smosgasboard of Hell’s finest cooking, her grip tighter than the vises that imps use tooooouch ouch ouch the pain! The pain! The world loses all sense of self as up becomes down and where once was bone is now pitch black nothing, cursed be the wicked art of Judo and its malevolent flips! Oh, to be a devil and suffer punishment! Forgiveness dies in the throes of scorned embraces! Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa not the wings! Anything but the wings! Love may be blind, but it sure knows where to press and bend to bear regret where once grew wicked delight...! Dear, please, have some mercy on your beloved half! No? Oh, okay then...

It shall be a long, blackest of nights, it would seem, to call the curtain on this tragicomedy called daily life...