#and the benefits have been so great!! like my sense of smell is so much stronger now and again I don't stinky

[kissyoourknuckles]

i haven't had a cigarette in like a month (maybe 2? I didn't really keep track of when I stopped) but today I want one so fucking bad, and like it's not like I haven't wanted one in the past couple months, believe me I have, the want is just stronger today.

[r0-boat]

Hiii, I just noticed your blog and really impressed by your... spicy stuff 👀 Hope that you can accept this request hehe 👉👈 (oh and sorry for any grammar, English is not my first language 🥹)

I absolutely love your headcanons about demons in WHB is animalistic, so what if the kings (and Lucifer) have that time of the month where they completely act like an animal (biting, marking,...) and MC didn't know about that, so MC got tricked by the nobles and being lead (?) to the room where their kings are destroying everything because they cannot find their human (maybe the kings got tied down too or just be sealed inside the room).

Okay I really wanna know what will happen after that 👀 Hope that it will be spicy 😋 Thank you and have a great day ❤️

Demon Rut headcannons

Whb Demon Lords x Gn!reader

Nsfw

Cw: everyone's a slut, The demons are yours and they want you. Slight mentions of demons fucking other demons just to let off steam, demon gangbang.

You know that little private room that looks like it's in a club on the summoning screen? I think that's where their sessions take place, where they're all dressed up in nice for you, only to rip off their clothes seconds later and make a beeline to your body.

That room in that special club for elites only are reserved for the seven lords and you to be used as they please.

I totally think demons have rut, they can fuck and cum whenever they want but during that time of the month when the sexual appetite is heightened to a point where they can't even think clearly. The sense of smell and taste. They will use toys, their subordinates anything! to get them off but it's not enough they need you. From your time you've been in hell and from maternity waiting for you, they've been holding off, and now that you're here... And they can sense you, smell your sweet scent of human and sex they can no longer hold back.

Bold of you to assume that the Lords would share. Some of them wouldn't mind but Satan and Levi who are notoriously more possessive??

Perhaps if they just need you so much that they are willing to share you just to have you at the moment. Without help with potions or magic, You will not survive Even with just the five of them at once. I don't even think you'll survive Mammon with just him during rut.

At first, they'd hate the idea of sharing you, but after the first time. They would kind of like seeing you squirm on another demon's cock. Seeing you get ruined and covered in demon seed would be a sight to purged in their minds, something they would jerk to when you're not here. Something that they'll definitely start doing more often. Not only as a way to prove their worth to you but for their own pleasurable benefit of seeing you soaked with tears, cum, and your own juices. As well as bragging rights to the other lords the next time they see them.

Expect clashing of horns and claws and teeth because only a test of their strength can determine who gets the fuck you first. And using you to test their virality and stamina will determine who gets to keep you for their rut. These demons will go for hours, days until they are tired, until they throw in the towel to the other. They use how many times you come how many orgasms they could milk out of your human body as a dick-measuring contest. Even after bragging about how many times you squeezed their cock while cumming as a badge of pride as their subordinates look at them in awe.

"oh yeah? Well fuck you Satan because last rut I made them cum this many times."

*cue Satan lunging at them with their teeth and claws*

That teasing and play fighting is all in good fun because they know they share a similar interest in being excited to see you next time in another demon's lap, squirming for their touch. Cooing about how much you like their cock and how human cock isn't good enough for you, huh? How they're so lucky to have someone so hungry for demon cock, have delicious your juices taste, how cute you cry for them.

Maybe they'll even start asking you to wear little pretty Lacey lingerie so they can tear off or play with their tongues and teeth. Maybe there's subordinates will catch wind of their lords escapades with you. An excitedly wait for one day their Lord will ask them to come with them. They know that the Lord is in control, and they are just there to be your toy.

And after every rut session, you're treated like a literal princess with aftercare; why do you have to lift a finger. They know that they pushed you beyond your human limits. And they are eternally grateful You indulged their sinful desires and gave up their body to be used and destroyed.

This sex dungeon-like club also doubling as a little hotel room with a full bathroom with a huge pool of bathtub as well as another bedroom with a giant bed for sleeping or other sexual escapades if the Lord's desire. If they ever want alcohol, sex toys, or condoms, they will be brought to them in a care package like basket. And as well as to their dislike, a little locker for the human for other demons store their presents in. It's like you don't already have a permanent residence in hell with a mailbox chocked full of flowers and chocolates and anything you desire.

[captainlondonman]

TRUCKER

David  was almost beginning to panic. He was trying to get back to college and had been at the layby for some time trying to hitchhike but car after car and truck after truck had passed. He had made sure he was well dressed in a good pair of chinos and jacket as most of the time that always helped get a lift. Some had waved at him but most had just not even looked his way as he stood with the sign clearly showing where he wanted to go. It was getting on and there was a good distance to go before he got to the college.

Suddenly coming over the brow of the hill he saw a large truck and immediately stood further out waving his hand with the sign showing so the driver could see. The driver flashed his lights and slowed down to draw into the side of the road. David felt a huge sense of relief as he walked to the front of the truck, the driver rolling down the window.

‘Hi mate, I’m going your way so if you want a lift get in.’

‘Yes please, thanks so much.’

‘Climb on in then.’

The trucker swung open the door and David climbed into the passenger seat. As he did he was suddenly aware of the stench. It was a stale mix of cigarettes, beer and unwashed body. For a moment he thought perhaps I should just decline and wait in the hope of getting a car ride rather than this. Not sure how I can cope with this smell the whole way back.

At one point he thought he could throw up as the stench percolated his throat but the trucker seemed quite friendly and he thought he might try and roll down the window a bit to get some fresh air in.

‘So mate what’s your name and what are you doing?

‘I’m David and I am heading back to college, 2nd year.’

‘Well then I’m Brady and as you can see I’m a truck driver, been doing the job for years.

David turned to look at the  driver and take in his appearance.

The guy was a burly well built 6ft. with massive arms, tattoos all down one arm, heavy hands, a large round face with a thick 3 day growth, his plaid shirt was opened half way down his chest showing a forest of dark hair and a thick gold metal chain around his neck. He was wearing camos and well used rigger boots. As David’s eyes ran down the body he noticed that the guy had a long outline of cock  down one side, clearly commando. This was not a man to mess with. The trucker took out a cigarette and lit it puffing away without using his hand, the ciggie just hanging on his lips as he let out the heavy clouds of tobacco smoke. As the smoke filled the truck cabin David knew he had to cough.

‘Not the smoke from my ciggie is it?’

‘No ,no of course just having been standing outside for so long.’

‘Just as well as I love my smokies.’

The two guys talked and the trucker asked what he was studying at college

‘Mathematics.’

‘Fuck me’, the trucker replied, ‘a real clever dick. Never been good at that sort of thing. I love the open road. Suppose you never have thought of being a trucker?’ Brady asked with a smile.

‘No, not exactly, I’m probably more a desk bound person.’

‘Great shame mate as I could do with a mate as I travel around. You meet all sort of guys on the road and there are some good times, know what I mean?’

David didn’t dare ask what he meant but assumed a few beers and pool games.

Several times as David turned to answer a question  he noticed that Brady would put his hand down between his legs and give his cock a soft stroke. David wasn’t sure if it was for his benefit or just a general thing as many guys did liking to stroke their dick and balls but he was certain that the length had increased a bit and looked more meaty.

After half an hour Brady turned the truck into a layby.

‘I need a piss and  a short pit stop. That all right with you? You probably could do with a piss as well. We’ll just go round the side of the truck so no one sees us.’

The two men climbed down from the truck and stood at the side, David feeling very uneasy about taking his cock out in front of someone he did not really know.

‘Don’t be shy boy. Let me go first.’

Brady unzipped his camos and stuffed his hand far down inside , widening his stance and then pulling out a large thick dick, especially thick at the top, with his large hand around his shaft he pulled his dark foreskin back to allow the heavy pink head to pop out. Stretching back with legs wide apart he let out a large arc of steaming pee.

‘Shit I need this, just look at how far my piss is going.’

 It seemed to David almost never ending and as the flow slowed down the trucker let out a mighty fart.

‘Sorry mate but I always let out a whopper fart when I finish pissing.’

David slightly turning away took out his good 6” cock and started to pee but was never going to make as much and let his piss go straight down onto the ground

Brady was giving his cock a good shake and turned to David,

‘Try and get you pee further way boy otherwise you will be splashing those nice chinos of yours.’

Brady stuffed the cock back down his camos but it was clear he had not shaken himself enough and David saw a large pee stain stretch out at the head of his cock.

‘Well while we are here best we have a ciggie and a beer. Let me get them out of the truck.’ Stretching inside he pulled out a packed of cigarettes and two beers.

‘I’ll light up one for you’ Brady said as he took the first puff and handed it to David.

‘I don’t smoke, I’m sorry.’

‘You don’t smoke? No one rides in my truck without a smoke mate. You smelt the inside and you made no complaint so at least give it a go. I don’t like being refused.’

With the trucker looming above him David gingerly took the cigarette and gave the smallest puff he possibly could.

Brady laughed. ‘That ain’t a fucking puff and don’t hold the ciggie like a fucking fairy. Now look watch me. Brady took the ciggie between his yellowed thumb and first finger and drew a large breath.

‘Now that’s the way. I tell you, do this and then take swig of beer and you will feel quite different about it all.’

Terrified at what might happen if he refused, David held the ciggie just like Brady and drew letting the smoke rush down the back of his throat immediately following it with a large swig of beer.

David felt the whole inside of his body warm like a large hot wave going from top to toe. To his surprise it actually felt good. How could it be when he hated smoking and generally when out he drank wine.

‘Not bad eh?’ Brady smiled.

‘Er no, I can’t believe it. Do you mind if I finish this cigarette off. I really like it especially with the beer.

‘That’s it lad, puff and swig away. It’s what we truckers do.’

As David continued puffing and drawing deeply before exhaling and then a good mouthful of beer, the warm feeling continued to surge through his body and not least all the way down to the tip of his cock. He was almost starting to feel horny and his cock was inching down his leg. He was worried about tenting but for him it was more important to finish the cigarette and beer.  As he took one large swig so he let out an huge burp. He was not embarrassed. It seemed the right thing to do as he smeared his hand across his mouth

‘Tell you what boy you almost do it was a true trucker.’

‘Yeah its great. But my shirt and trousers are starting to feel really tight on me,’ David said unbuttoning his top three buttons to allow more space and then undid his belt.

‘Sure looks tight to me and I have to say though that cock of yours seems to be enjoying this. A good bit of tenting going on.’

‘I don’t know what’s going on but every puff and swig my body seems to be getting bigger.  What’s more my cock is getting really itchy and making me feel almost horny.’

‘Good trucker stuff eh?’

David could feel the seams of his shirt straining and not only did the trousers seem tight but they were becoming short as well.

‘Tell you what Davey why don’t you take all your clobber off. I have some of my stuff that you can put one for now. Have to say but none of it has been washed for a good while but I reckon you will be OK with that. Go one strip off and put on my stuff.’

Brady leaned into the cabin and took out a dirty oil stained vest, a pair of camos, what were once white socks now yellow and a well worn pair of rigger boots.

David took off his clothes but by this time he felt his cock on fire and stiffening by the second. Brady threw the vest at him. David could smell it before he caught it., he could see the yellow sweat stains under the arms and the high body odour.

‘Go one take a real good puff before you put it on.’ Brady said

As David took a puff he looked at his hands. Both hands were bigger with dirty nails and the right hand had yellow nicotine stains. But it was not just the hands he noticed his arms were no longer pink, they were deep tanned brown with dark black hair forming a matt all the way up to his shoulders. The shoulders had bulked out and the hair continued over the shoulders and down his chest, hairs sprouting all the way  up to his chin. As he put on the vest it suddenly smelt great, he loved the sweat marks and he took in the pungent body odour just has he had smoked at his cigarette.

His chest puffed out and he could see a large pair of nipples clearly showing though the fabric but he now had a beer belly. His waist line had gone.

‘Now get those camos on lad. You’ll feel that cock of yours get bigger as it slides down inside and you will feel those piss stains as well as my cum marks. A guy on the road has to wank.

That’s it. Now look at those chunky legs on yours and shit man that is one thick cock straining inside those camos. Now use the belt and tighten so you can feel that beer belly of yours slip over.So how are you feeling Davey boy?’

‘I know my name is David but why is my body looking like a trucker?’

‘Just take those meaty hands up to your face now.’ David took both his now stained hands up to his face and was immediately aware that he had a bushy handlebar moustache that almost came over his mouth and down both sides. The rest of his face had a heavy two day growth but it was almost more of a shock to discover his hair had gone and instead was a shiny shaved head.

He now put on the stinking used socks and his rigger boots standing at least as tall as Brady if not taller.

How did he feel?

This was not him, the cute student boy on his way back to college. He knew he now looked like a trucker, a dirty trucker smelling of sweat and ciggies, a rough and ready trucker, but shit it felt good and all he wanted was to draw deep on another ciggie, belch and fart.

‘Hey Brady got another ciggie?’

‘Sure thing Davey, let me light it for you.’

As he took the ciggie in his hand, holding it like Brady had told him. He was about to take a deep puff when Brady said

‘This is it Davey mate no going back. Its trucker time.’

‘I am a trucker mate and a fucking good one’ David said as he took a deep puff.

At that point his voice changed to much deeper and with a strong accent. David was now 100% Davey

And a horny Davey with this thick dick straining at his camos

‘Tell you want Davey that cock of yours is too good not to suck. What say you flip it out for me and while I get down on you, you just keep that ciggies in your mouth and enjoy.

‘Hoped you would fucking say that, my cocks ready to burst and I need a good deep throat to take it all.’

‘Don’t worry about that mate my mouth was made to suck dick. Here let me unzip and feel that prick of yours as I take it out.’

Brady quickly undid the flies and put his hand in grabbing the full thickness of meat.

‘Shit man that cock of yours in throbbing.’

‘Throbbing for that mouth of yours,’ Davey replied so get it out and into yer mouth.’

Brady pulled out the thick cock

‘Jesus its thick the whole way down and what a fucking bush of pubes you’ve got. Keep smoking mate I’m ready.’

Brady got down on his knees and let his spit ooze out over the cock head and then used his tongue to slowly lick all around the cock head, feeling the rim before the full shaft. His hand was gripped around the shaft and he could feel the veins throb as he guided the head towards his mouth.. Davey stood with his legs astride, his arms folded and his ciggie drooping down from his lips as he inhaled. he let out a fart

‘Having me cock sucked always makes me fart. Hope you can smell with my hairy armpits mate. Now get on with the suck. Don’t just bloody rim I want to see that mouth of yours up at my pubes.’

Brady opened his mouth wide and breathing carefully let the cock enter  and start slowly to move down the back of his throat.

Davey taking one hand top hold his ciggies and exhale, took his other arm and grabbed Brady’s head.

‘Let me guide you all the way in,’ he said. ‘Let me control how you suck me. Let me feel those lips of yours press round my shaft. Now get your hands around my arse. I’ll let down my camos so you can feel my strong  hairy cheeks. I want you to grab all the hairs and my arse and make sure you get a couple of finger up my crack. I like to feel my hole being opened slightly so I then push further and further down your throat. That really turns me on.’

Now that Davey was controlling Brady’s head and his mouth  he was able to have both hands free to massage Davey’s hairy arse and he could feel the soft opening of his hole as his finger pushed passed the opening and into the hole.

Feeling the finger inside him, made Davey pull Brady’s head into towards him, the cock moving all the way down. At last Brady could feel the curly pubes against his face

‘What a fucking sucker you are mate. That mouth of yours was made for my dick. Get a fucking move on as I’ll need to light up another ciggie soon. All this makes me puff more.

Now take your mouth almost out and I’ll force you in. Then we can up the speed. Keep fingering my hole I love it.’

Davey now had both hands on Brady’s head pushing and pulling ever more quickly and the more he did the more Brady’s hands worked the hairy arse until 4 fingers were well and truly up inside.

‘Fuck man me arse feels great with those fingers up. I’m almost ready mate. Take yer mouth out of my dick now and I’ll finish myself off. I want to see my spunk over that face of yours.’ Brady sat back his eyes firmly fixed on Daveys cock. It only needed a few quick strokes for Davey to release his spunk. ‘Now take my spunk and let me see it over that face of yours.’ Great arcs of spunk shot out at Brady who tried to swallow as much as possible the rest over eyes and nose, great globs of spunk rolling down his chin and stuck on his beard.

‘Shit man those balls of yours have been building up.’

‘Sure thing mate I was needing to empty and what a fucking mess of your face.’

‘No probs man I’ll wipe off what I can and then I can stink of your spunk. Suits me. And tell you what man my cock is aching after that but you and I ain’t finished. Remember you are my mate and mates serve and help out.

As Davey spat out the ciggie, he puts his dripping cock back int the camos, a good sized stain appearing and then he lit up another ciggie.

Brady made a call

‘Is that you Mick? Just to let you know I have a new mate. You will like this one. He’s got the lot. Knowing you, thought you might like to meet up for a sandwich at our usual place. We can be there in the next hour.’

‘Sounds too good to miss mate. I’ll be there. Feeling horny just at the thought.’

‘You ain’t the only one horny. See you.’

The two guys got back into the truck.

‘So Davey mate, gonna see a chum of mine as he wants to meets you. Known him for ages and I think you will like.’

In the meantime keep one of yer hands on my crotch  and give us a bit of a rub. I’m still hard after that blow job I gave you.’

‘I can do better than that’ Davey replied. ‘Let me get that cock of yours out and give you a suck as we drive along. Truckers love cumin when they drive and don’t tell me you are any different.’

Davey unzipped the camos and pulled out the long hard cock.

‘Shit that’s a good one you got there mate a real 9”, straight as a ram rod. Bet that’s felt when it goes up a crack.’

‘Never had any complaints.’

‘No fucking wonder, with that cock you have to be a good fucker.’

‘I sure am. Now get that head of yours down and let me have the blow job you are promising. Love you sucking and all those cars can’t see what you are up to.’

Davey lowered his lips onto the cock head and let his spit ooze out and down the shaft.

‘May not be able to get it all the way down in this position mate but once my lips are clenched around that shaft of yours you will be ready to spunk.’

Davey opened his mouth wide and started lowering his head down the shaft, one hand around the base of the cock stroking the big heavy pair of balls.

‘That’s it mate give me balls a yank and good squeeze, brings out my spunk like a fucking rocket taking off.’

As Davey let his mouth slide up and down the shaft with increasing speed so he yanked the balls down as much as they could go.

‘Fucking hell mate me balls as bursting with the strength of that grab. That’s it suck and pull. ‘Jesus I’m ready to shoot. I’m cumming.’

As Brady leant back in the seat Davey took his mouth out but held tight to the balls and Brady let out a great stream of spunk, the white juice spouting up and hitting the windscreen of the truck.

‘Fucking hell, what a load of spunk you got there. I luv seeing it smash the windscreen glass. Just as I wanted to happen.’

Davey leant back over Bradys cock and took the remaining cum into his mouth.

‘Nice and salty.’

Brady replied, ‘Better clean the window so I can see out. All those drivers will be wondering what’s covering the glass. My fucking spunk. Not long until we meet up with Mike.’

The two guys pulled into a layby with another truck already parked up in front. There was only room for the two trucks so none were likely to interupt Brady’s plans.

Mike was standing outside the toilet waiting giving himself a gentle rub as the two blokes

 approached.

‘So this is your new mate.’ Mike said ‘I see what you mean Brady.’

Mike was a good 6’ 2’ well built with muscular legs and wide shoulders. Tattoos down both

arms which bulged out from his T shirt. The T shirt was short revealing a hairy base to his

chest and well worn jeans showed a well used crotch where the denim was starting to fray.

Davey could make out not just the line of his cock but see the head try to push its way

out of the frayed jeans.

‘Shit am I glad that you asked to meet up. Ever since your call my cock has been twitching

and looking at you Davey boy its gonna be some sandwich.’

‘What’s all this about a sandwich.’

‘Well Davey you are the filling and Mike and I the bread so let’s get inside as I’m needing a

fuck after your blow job.’

The three men entered the urinal area which stank of stale piss.

‘Shit, I love this place and the smell makes me even more hard.’ Mike said rubbing his cock

harder. Looks as though you have a big one down there Davey. Let me have a rub.’

Davey lit up a ciggie and said ‘help yourself mate. If I am the filling then you are bit of bread

  Im gonna take so hope you like big thick cock.’

‘Fuckin do Davey. When Brady called and suggested we meet I got my big black rubber dildo

 out and let it slide up inside me while driving so my hole is well prepared for whatever you

 got down there.’ As Mike rubbed Davey’s dick, it got harder and harder inching all the way

 down inside his camos until it was hard as a brick.

‘Fuck it is big, bigger than my dildo but at least my hole is now nice and open for you.’

‘Turn and face the wall,’ Davey demanded, ‘and hands up and stick that arse of yours out.’

 Davey then put his nicotine stained hands around Mick’s waist and undid the buttons on his

 frayed jeans pulling them down to his ankles.

 ‘Nice furry arse you got there mate just as I like.’ Davey then gave both cheeks a good slap.

‘Warm them up for you mate.’

Davey stood back and unzipped his camos pulling out his thick meaty cock letting a good

 gob of spit onto the shaft. Putting both arms around Mike he let his throbbing cock find

 Mike’s hole. His hole opened up to take the dick, Mike’s arse moving back so he could take

 the full length.

‘Fuck man that’s way better than my dildo. I can feel your cock throbbing as you push it up.’

‘No bloody wonder with a hole as wide as you’ve got Mike. As Davey pressed his hairy chest

 against Mike’s back , Mike turned his head and said

‘Let me smell your hairy armpits. I love sweaty hairy pits and you’ve a great amount of hair

 hanging down there.’ Davey lifted an arm and Mike’s head buried into the pit licking the

 hair and taking in the unwashed smell.

‘Fucking hell you’ve not  washed for days. Such a fucking turn on.’

Meanwhile Brady was watching and stroking his own cock.

‘Seeing you two lads going at it is so fucking great. My cocks on fire here needing to shed

 some spunk and that arse of yours Davey is ripe for the taking.’

Brady unzipped Davey’s camos and dropped them then took out his long rigid cock. Now it’s

time you become the real filling , stretch your legs apart for me but keep your cock in Mike

 as he fucking loving your dick and armpits. That hole of yours needs no spit its time I take

 you raw.’

‘Stop the fucking talking Brady and fuck me. My arse is ready for you and once you are up

 me to the hilt, I’ll give Mike a fuck he won’t forget.’

As Brady pushed his cock further up Davey’s hole he put his arms around Davey’s chest and

 started to massage his nipples through the vest.

‘Fuck mate, you know I like me nips worked on through the vest. Makes me so fucking horny

 and quit the massage give them a good nip and that will make me stick my arse more for

 you and make me push me cock all the way  up Mike’ss arse so my pubes are tight against

 his hairy arse.

‘Jesus Brady yank at his nipples even more as it sure is making him fuck me up to the hilt.’

‘The only one who’s snot having his cock worked is you Mike,’ Davey said bringing his hand

 round to grasp the long shaft. You need a good wank while I fuck you and I love me hand

 round a guys shaft while he has my cock all the way up him. Keep smelling my armpits you

 dirty bastard. Not bad eh, my stinking armpits, my hand jacking you off and my cock about

 to give you a sea of my juice. Cum on Brady let that cock of yours slide in and out but when

 in I want to feel if almost coming out my mouth so thrust well.’

The two fuckers were hammering each other with their pricks while Davey’s hand rubbed

 harder and harder up Micks shaft.

Davey shouted.

‘Hey men fucking and being fucked I’m about to come so let’s all shoot at the same time,

 and your cum I wanna see shoot against the wall and leave as a reminder to those that

 come in after us. Keep going on my nips Brady.’

Both Mick and Brady shouted, ‘Yeah we are ready man let’s all cum.’

And with that all three truckers let rip with spray after spray of cum

‘Fucking hell this is the best fuck ever.’ Davey shouted.

The three men slumped against each other and slowly withdrew their cocks from the holes,

the last drops of cum spilling on to the floor.

‘That was some fucking sandwich mate.’ Mike said. ‘Glad you called me, just what I was

 needing and a great trucker you now have.’

‘Yeah Mike I think he is the best yet’.

‘Tell you what I wouldn’t mind having him with me.’

‘I ain’t giving him up that easily.’

‘Maybe I have a say in all this. I’m now a dirty trucker and that’s thanks to Brady but for me

 now life in on the road with ciggies, beer and a good fuck. So I’ll tell you what I think you

 could do a bit of sharing with me. Mike’s hole is fucking amazing and Brady you fuck like a

 pro though I wanna have a go with you being up against the wall soon. So for the mo I stick

 with you Brady but Mike be ready it will be your turn. Then we are all happy.’

‘Sounds good to me,’ Brady and Mick said in unison.

[skyloftian-nutcase]

@here4dragons, this is for you, sweetheart <3

(mood music - "Motion" by Peter Sandberg)

Abel sighed tiredly. He'd lost track of the time again. But honestly, this time alone was the only part of the day he could relax, in a sense. Ever since his promotion to being captain of the royal guard, he'd been running around nonstop. He'd never really contemplated how much work went into just being in charge, but he absolutely despised it.

It wasn't as if he weren't grateful, honored for this position, of course. He still wasn't entirely sure how he'd managed to get it. A small, insecure part of him wondered if it was simply because the king had found out that the princess' appointed knight was his son. Link's fame was certainly growing ever since he'd rescued Princess Zelda from that rogue guardian. Abel still felt his stomach squirm uncomfortably, his heart swell with pride but shrivel in fear at the sight of his boy cradling his broken arm after deflecting the shot.

It had been entirely too chilling a reminder of the dangers Link was going to face.

But the boy had been fine. He would be fine. He was an amazing warrior, a better swordfighter than anyone, and he was only sixteen. He'd be seventeen soon, and he would continue to grow and improve. It would be all right. He would be alright.

Abel paced his quarters. The private room was one of the few wonderful benefits of his promotion. It gave him time to himself, something he felt like he never really had anymore.

But sometimes, even the quiet of his room wasn't enough. He had his window open, letting a cool breeze inside, listening to the crickets chirp, watching the fireflies lazily float by, but it wasn't enough. So he sighed again and took a candle, heading outside.

It was amazing how quiet the castle could be at night, given how lively it was during the day. There was usually a constant hustle, royal scientists scrambling about with notes, servants moving quickly to ensure everything ran smoothly, soldiers patrolling, guardians' gears whirring as the large metallic beasts tested their legs, nobles tutting about trying to get the attention of the king, citizens from near and far coming with petitions and pleas.

It was tedious. It was exhausting.

Abel was a man of action. He'd always preferred just being a knight. When he'd been assigned to the castle, he'd viewed it as a great honor, but also...

He'd never wanted it. He'd seen enough politics in the Domain, but even there he was happier. An assignment like this, being captain of the royal guard... he imagined it would have made his father proud.

His father. He couldn't even remember what the man looked like anymore. Just what his rotting body had smelled like. Just how his mother's cries had sounded.

Abel swallowed, his throat dry as he made his way outside. His candle attracted the attention of the fireflies, and they flitted about slowly, reflecting its light on their bellies, winking at the man. Abel smiled at them, smiled at the gentle trickle of water from the nearby fountain, smiled at the cool breeze that brushed the warm flush of worry from his cheeks.

He took a deep breath in, trying to soak in the moment, grateful for little occasions like this.

His promotion was so new, so strange, so different. He wasn't just a knight alongside everyone else anymore. It was freeing, it was terrifying. He had so much riding on him now, had others looking to him for guidance and help. The king sometimes asked for his advice. The blasted King of Hyrule.

Abel sighed a little, pulling a letter out from where he'd tucked it into his belt. He'd received it this morning, but hadn't had a chance to read it all day, as busy as he'd been. Finding a bench, he settled down and opened it, reading its contents in the moonlight as the fireflies made daring little dashes for his candle beside him.

My love,

I received your letter a little while ago and only just now had the chance to reply! Oh, you wouldn't believe how busy it's been in Hateno lately! So many people have been passing through. I think that new dye shop is really doing something for the village, it's pretty amazing!

Lyra is doing great. She found a stray cucco and adopted it, so now I have to constantly clean up after it, but she loves it very much. She named her Mipha, and I have to laugh every time I hear it, because somehow I think the princess would be fine with it but Link would not haha! Lyra is so free spirited, it's such a joy spending time with her. I know she misses you very much, and I've got her working on her very own letter to send you as well.

Speaking of princesses, though, can you tell me how Link is doing with his new assignment? I haven't heard from him in a while, and I know I shouldn't worry, but well. I do sometimes. And I know you do too. But I pray for you both every day. I know Hylia is looking out for you, beloved.

I just wanted to say again how proud I am of you, Abel. You have one of the highest ranks in all of Hyrule! Can you believe that? I knew you could reach such heights, but I still have to wrap my head around it sometimes! You and Link are so magnificent, I'm sometimes just baffled that I even know you two, that you're my husband and he's my baby boy. I am so blessed to have you two in my life.

I love you so much, Abel. I hope to hear from you soon.

Love, Tilieth

Abel read the words again and again, bringing the letter to his chest and closing his eyes. The parchment crinkled in his gentle grip as he tried to hug his wife through the words, as he could feel her hugging him in return. Then he smiled in anticipation, pulling out the second letter, seeing the far clumsier handwriting and feeling his heart flutter with joy and excitement at it.

Dear Papa,

Mama let me actually write my own letter this time, and I wanted to include some feathers from Mipha so she could say hi to you too! Anyway, I wanted to say hi and I love you. Mama's food is really good and I can't wait for you to come home and have it and so you can see Mipha. Also it's really hot right now, so I hope it isn't hot where you are. Because it's to hot I feel like a carrot in Mama's cooking pot. But not a tomato because those are gross. And I'm not that red.

Mama talks about you getting some new job, so I wanted to say good job. But I don't think it's as hard as Mama's job because she's always working. So you should send her flowers.

Papa, I was wondering when you were coming home? Do I need to write to the king? Mama says he's why you and Link are still gone. And I know you guys leave a lot for knight duty but you didn't used to be gone for this long. It's been like over a year since I saw you, and I think the king doesn't know that, so you should tell him. If you can't because you're busy, that's ok. I can tell him too.

Anyway there's this new die shop that Mama loves and I think you should take her to it. She took me to it and it was really cool. Lots of people like it! We should get Link and make him splash in it. Blue is the best color, so he should swim in blue paint. I don't know why they call it die because that seems like a bad word for it. The clothes don't die or anything. But I guess they look different, so they die to how they used to be. Something like that.

Papa, I love you. I miss you. I want to hug you, so please come home soon!

Love, Lyra

Abel found himself chuckling as he finished the letter. Goddess, he missed his daughter. Lyra was just as quirky and silly as Tilieth, and she encompassed Tilieth's social boldness with Abel's force of will. That girl was going to be a menace when she became a teenager.

She was right, though. It had been a long time since Abel had gone home. His longest assignment had been at Zora's Domain, spanning years, but that was before Lyra had been born. He'd always been able to see his family at least once a year since then. Now...

He couldn't complain, honestly. He shouldn't. He was proud to serve his country, honored to be able to have such freedom to help others in this new position. And he could see Link so often. It was a blessing.

He smiled again at the letters, holding them to his heart. He would see his wife and daughter again soon someday. He would bring Tilieth flowers. He would play with Lyra and her little pet. He would go to the dye shop (and teach his daughter how to spell dye). And he would take Link with him.

Someday. Perhaps when this crisis was over, when Princess Zelda discovered her powers.

In the meantime, he would treasure these letters. He would write whenever he could. And he would fully utilize the honors given to him so that he could help Hyrule as much as possible, whether he deserved this prestige or not.

I love you too, he whispered in his heart to his beloveds. And then he looked up at the sky, face glowing in the moonlight, heart lighter, and he prayed in thanks to Hylia.

They'd be alright, in the end. They'd be alright.

[bodhranwriting]

Finn and the Arsonist by Bodh M.

In three years of running the only cat sanctuary in Middle Besser, I’ve heard a lot of their odd tales about how they ended up here.

Getting into fights is a common one. Getting trapped in wells happens more often that you’d think. Inattentive families, owners needing the space… the list goes on. I try not to judge people’s situations too harshly. After all, my main witness is going to be a little biased and cat-senses don’t always translate well to human, as you’d expect. But there are definitely pickups I’ve done that have made my blood boil, if you don’t mind me saying.

But I’ve never had one before that made me scared and certainly never had one involving one of my closest friends.

It was a stinking hot day in the middle of summer when a small child barged open the door to the Respite with a terrified cat yowling at a pitch to match the temple bells.

I had been dozing at the counter, sweat sticking my sandy curls to my forehead and a new bandage wrapped around my arm – one kitten had not wanted to take her medicine – so I damn well fell out of my chair as a screaming feline was dumped a fingerbreadth from my face.

“I found them in Gert’s Alley,” the girl said helpfully, in lieu of greeting. She was probably nine or ten; a scruffy little thing in a faded blue dress with adorable tight black coils and a missing tooth so her next words came out as a lisp, “He theemed thercared. Look at all the blood!”

Dragging myself up from floor and trying to wipe the sleep from my eyes, I blearily focused on my newest patient. She (and definitely she, I noted as she wriggled out of the blanket) was a gorgeous black Kysi with golden eyes and the huge ears typical to her breed. As she backed up, hissing, I reached out a hand and concentrated, drawing up warm reserves of the little magic I had from my chest and into my throat.

Translation spells, in my experience anyway, always had a taste. I’d never been particularly good at them: it was almost easier to just do the hard work and learn the language. But translating my tongue to that of cats was like clicking your fingers might be to someone else. Easy. Not requiring much thought at all.

Cat tastes like buttermilk. I don’t know why, but there seems to be a connection to what I taste and what I’m trying to speak. Bee tastes, almost boringly, of honey. Spider has a dusty texture. Rat, for some odd reason, is hazelnut. I haven’t worked out that one and neither had the teachers out in the Hartland’s. I think one of my classmates who fell into the academic trap – track, sorry – is compiling research on it.

(I answered her very impersonal letter a few months ago and never heard back. Hope I helped. She did bully me into passing my star-reading exam, after all.)

I took a breath, the flavour rising into my nose, and attempted first contact. “Easy there… I’m not gonna hurt you… what’s your name…?”

The cat hissed again, but only for show because she answered quickly, “Smells-like-this. But upright call me Smoke.”

“I’m Finn,” I said, almost more for the benefit of the still-watching urchin. I projected an imitation of my scent into her mind: a kind of mix of cat fur, woodsmoke, and lye soap, and asked, “May I touch you? I need to find where you’re bleeding.”

Smoke hesitated and then lay down. “Yes.”

Carefully, I reached forwards, letting her sniff my hand. “Could you get me a bucket from the pump?” I asked the girl.

She nodded with great dignity and vanished outside. I turned my attention back to Smoke. It was funny: she was far better fed than a stray ought to be –

“Know your smell, upright.”

I jumped. Swallowing hard, I managed to keep the connection strong enough to ask, “You… do?”

Smoke curled up under my hand. “It was on take-off furs. And blood not mine.”

Ice settled in my stomach, cold fingers squeezing my guts paper-thin. “Whose is it…?”

Her tail thrashed, ears flattening against her head. “My upright.” The flash of fangs made me jerk my hand away. I was panting and I didn’t know why.

“What happened?”

Smoke sat up again, fixing shining golden eyes on me. She raised her head like a queen, crossing one paw in front of the other.

“Uprights invade territory. Smash door. I fight. Upright feeder does too. I run when they lay red flower.”

“Red flow…” Suddenly, the buttermilk soured to smoke and ash as my mind made the necessary translation. Terror thumped through my chest. “They burnt the house?”

I grabbed the cat by the scruff of the neck as she bolted from my shout. She tried to claw at me, but I didn’t even feel it. “What does your upright look like, Smoke?”

“Put down!”

“Please, tell me. What do they look like?”

“Upright! Smell like this! Not white-yellow fur like you. White-orange fur! Cloud eye! Make pretty noise a lot!” She meowed as I dropped her, landing perfectly on the table as I fell into my chair.

“Gert’s Alley… that’s where you were found?”

Smoke leapt to the ground and gave me the feline equivalent of a shrug.

I was up and running down the street before I even realised I’d processed the information.

[mythologyfolklore]

Liù'ěr Míhóu joins the jttw gang, or: How to redeem an all-hearing celestial monkey with a superiority complex and a seriously bad attitude

(A/N: TW: mention of genocide, self-harm (kinda) and mutilation)

Chapter Twenty-nine: The Great Sage speaks with the Little Sage

.

Later, as the two groups made their beds, Liù'ěr Míhóu approached Zhū Bājiè with an unusual request: “Hey. Mind if tonight I rest on that big belly of yours?”

Zhū Bājiè looked at him like he'd just gone even crazier. Understandable.

Just when the six-eared monkey thought he'd broken the pig's brain, the latter finally asked: “But … what about my snoring?”

“I've grown used to it and found it has the benefit of drowning out all the background noise and giving me something to focus on. And since you don't toss or turn in your sleep, I don't have to worry about tumbling off.”

Bājiè's face grew even more doubtful. “And my stink doesn't bother you either?”

Liù'ěr Míhóu shrugged: “I'm gonna tell you a secret, Third Brother: I have no sense of smell to speak of.”

“Aha.” Bājiè shrugged as well, then lay down and tucked himself in. “Alright, if you wanna, go ahead. It doesn't bother me.”

Liù'ěr Míhóu immediately climbed onto the the pig's giant rump, yawned and sprawled on his elder brother like a starfish.

“So”, he started right away. “You saw what I saw, right?”

Bājiè grunted: “What, the sensual tension between these two and that the great Èrláng Shén has feelings for our Eldest Brother, while Eldest Brother is feeling … something for the Illustrious Sage?”

“Oh, good, we are on the same page here! Do you also think this is kinda stupid?”

“Absolutely. These two gotta sort their shit out, Youngest Brother. Doesn't mean everything has to be sunshine and rainbows afterwards, but sorting out their shit would help them a lot. You know what I mean?”

The macaque chuckled: “Oh, yes. Sadly, it won't happen anytime soon that they sort their shit out and by the time they do, there will be a lot more shit to sort out.”

Bājiè groaned: “Ugh, they're both idiots!” The monkey felt him tense. “Please don't tell them I just said that.”

Liù'ěr Míhóu patted the belly beneath him in reassurance. “Don't worry, your secret's safe with me.”

“Thanks.”

“And I agree; they're both emotionally stunted dumbasses. Though in my opinion Èrláng Shén is even more of an emotionally stunted dumbass, because he'd rather repress his own feelings than get his head out of his arse, apologise and try to start from scratch.”

The pig chortled.

The macaque became pensive. “What a sad, sad man he is. He has my pity.”

Bājiè hummed in agreement, then started snoring.

Wow. Never seen someone fall asleep that fast before!

Oh well. That just meant the monkey could focus entirely on the two loveb- uh, the two rivals having a heart-to-heart at the nearby cliff under the moon. Because of course he had noticed how the Monkey King and Èrláng Sh��n had snuck away as the others had been settling down. Dorks.

They were approximately 50 feet away, enough for anyone else to not hear them (except for Liù'ěr Míhóu himself, of course).

It was a bit hard to tune out Bājiè's snoring, but for Liù'ěr Míhóu that wasn't much of a hindrance. He filtered it out to focus on the two men he wanted to listen in on.

For a while the god and the monkey sat in silence. Liù'ěr Míhóu could hear Èrláng Shén's heart race, while Wùkōng's heartbeat was calm.

In the end it was Sūn Wùkōng, who spoke first: “Ninety-eight percent.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Ninety-eight percent. Forty-six thousand. That's how many of my grandchildren are lost. Over 25 000 of my children burned to death, another 15 000 starved to death or left, and a few thousands more were killed by poachers. Just in case you wanted to know.” Wùkōng's voice was flat. But he needed no accusatory tone to get his point across.

When Èrláng responded, his voice was subdued and sombre: “I see. Thank you for telling me. I … I didn't know I killed so many. I didn't even realise there was no army to defeat, until I saw all the dying civilians.”

(Liù'ěr Míhóu could hear the nigh inaudible crunch of his fellow disciple's claws digging into the rock under his fingers.)

“… You didn't know I had no army.”

“No. When I received my order to exterminate your kin for your crimes against Heaven …”

“What did they say?”

“Huh?”

Wùkōng sounded impatient: “What did they tell you? How did they word it?”

A sigh. “… 'Go and wipe out that accursed monkey's troop'. That's what my uncle said. Considering your crimes against Heaven, that would have meant wiping out your entire clan. Since you have none, I though it meant your army, as it does for humans. It was only after the crime was committed, that I learned from Golden Cicada that 'troop' is the monkey equivalent to 'clan'. But of course by then it was too late.” A bitter snort. “I would have asked them to give me fifty whip lashes for every murdered civilian, but I didn't even know how many monkeys died. So I had Golden Cicada burn my back with Samadhi Fire instead.”

“I didn't know you knew Golden Cicada personally.”

“They were my best friend from my childhood, until they reincarnated.”

“Oh.” There was the sound of someone shifting along the ground. “Can I see it? The scar. I just feel like seeing proof that you felt some of my babies' pain-”

There was the rustling of clothes, as Èrláng Shén complied with the request. “Here. Can you see it in the dark?”

“Yes.”

A few seconds of silence later, Èrláng Shén gasped, his breathing trembled and his heartbeat quickened.

Sūn Wùkōng sounded focussed, as he examined the burns. “This looks really bad. Much worse than the burns I got from Hóng Hái'er. Or Shàncái, as he's known now. Maybe you've met him? Guānyīn's newest disciple?”

“Yes, I have met him. Of course it looks worse, Golden Cicada and I had much more time to perfect our True Samadhi Fire.”

“But it's been 500 years, these burns should have been healed by now! Or did Golden Cicada not …?”

“No. I asked them not to. No one healed your subjects, why should I have that privilege? Golden Cicada didn't like my logic at all, but they complied.”

“… Does it still hurt?”

“No.”

(Liar.)

“I don't believe you. There is no way that doesn't hurt.”

A slightly annoyed groan. “Alright, fine. It hurts like Dìyù, especially when a living furnace of a person touches it! Happy?”

“No, but it's better than a lie. Isn't it uncomfortable, when these bandages rub against the skin?”

“I'm not taking them off, just so you can-!”

“I don't want to see your breasts, dammit! What the fuck, gawking at naked people is gross!”

“Well, tell that to all the creeps I've caught spying on me, while I bathed!” A short pause. Then an amendment: “Or don't. Because I killed them all. And no one will ever find the bodies, because I made a quick buck selling them on the black market.”

(Liù'ěr Míhóu could hear the sinister smile in Èrláng's voice.)

The Monkey King chortled: “Yeah, that sounds like something you'd do!”

“Hey! They had it coming! Unlike …” He didn't finish that sentence, but it was clear, who he was referring to.

(Awkward silence, part three.)

Then Èrláng spoke, solemnly: “Great Sage. I want you to know, that I never once have been proud of my actions. Never. If I could reverse them and bring back your grandchildren, I would.”

There was a gulp and a slight hitch in Sūn Wùkōng's breath, before he replied in a clipped voice: “… Good.”

Suddenly there was a sniffle, which seemed to concern Èrláng. “Great Sage?”

“Can you swear to never hurt them again?”, Sūn Wùkōng croaked, clearly trying and failing not to cry. “I-I'll give you anything, anything you want, if only you promise me! Promise me, that you'll never hurt my babies again!”

“You don't need to plead, nor offer me anything at all, Great Sage. There are only two things I want in this world and you cannot give them to me.”

“ … Oh.”

“But I can give you this: I, Yáng Jiăn, Èrláng Shén, the True Monarch and Illustrious Sage, swear; that I will never again enter your territory with harmful intent, never again harm anyone under your protection, nor forget the wrong I did. The heavens, the earth and the Dìyù are my witnesses. And if I ever break this oath, then … uhhh …” His solemn tone turned awkward, as he couldn't think of a punishment.

But the Monkey King seemed to have an idea: “If you break your oath, your pretty hair will fall out!”

“M-my hair?!?”

“Your hair!”

“D-does it have to be that?”

“Well, your hair seems to be very important to you, so yes!”

After a sharp inhale, Èrláng conceded, teeth-gnashingly: “… Fine. If I ever break this binding oath, my hair shall fall out. Happy?”

“Quite.”

“… My beautiful hair …”

“There, there”, Sūn Wùkōng cooed mockingly. “Let this be an incentive not to break your promise!”

Èrláng grumbled: “Yeah, yeah, laugh all you want! I'd love to see your face, if you ever lost all your fur!”

The Monkey King mock-gasped: “But Little Sage! Without my fur, I would be … naked! Do you really want to see me like that?”

“… I walked into that one, didn't I?”

“Yeah. Yeah, you did.”

(Liù'ěr Míhóu struggled not to laugh out loud and alert everyone to his wakefulness.)

“…”

“… Well? Something else to say, Little Sage?”

Èrláng seemed to be thinking, whether he should say it or not. (Judging by his heartbeat, which was getting quicker again, he was flustered.)

After a while he mumbled: “You know, I hope we can battle again one day. Without any arrests or Lăozi ruining it, of course. I … I really enjoyed fighting you.”

When Sūn Wùkōng, there was a smile in his voice: “Yeah, I admit that was pretty fun. Tell you what, if I ever feel better about you, I'll let you know and we'll have a friendly spar. Just you and me, without that old man being a buzzkill.”

“In a barren landscape, where we can go all out and engage in immortal combat and never give in, until finally one or even both of us collapse from exhaustion, or has to leave because something came up?”

“Obviously.”

“I'd love that.”

“And don't worry; I won't make any inappropriate sex jokes on the battlefield again!”, the monkey teased.

(Liù'ěr Míhóu was confused – inappropriate sex jokes on the battlefield? He hadn't heard anything of that! – but decided to keep listening.)

Èrláng Shén groaned: “Ugh, don't remind me! I can't believe you did that! A bustard, are you kidding me? Of all the transformations! You might as well have held up a sign that said 'slut and proud'!”

(Ohhhh, that kind of inappropriate sex joke!)

The Monkey King snickered: “Well, actually I'm not interested in the act itself and never was, so I'm not a slut, but I love myself a good joke! You should make a few too! Everybody loves a man with a good sense of humour!”

“I do have a sense of humour!”, the three-eyed god protested. “Just because it doesn't align with yours, doesn't mean it isn't there! You know what's funny to me? Getting my hands on someone who's wronged me or someone I care about, watching them grovel and beg for their lives, as I look down on them and laugh like the war criminal I am, before ripping them to shreds!”

Sūn Wùkōng's heartbeat went faster and his breathing grew a bit heavier.

“Holy fucking shit, that's hot!”, he whispered. “I hear stuff like that from Six Ears a lot, but for some reason it sounds so much better coming out of your mouth!”

(That's because you're simping for him!, Liù'ěr Míhóu thought drily. I'm going to tease you. I'm going to tease you relentlessly, until you're gonna wish for a hole you can hide in, but even that won't save you from my teasing!)

Èrláng chuckled: “Well, good to know that we're both bloodthirsty and battle-hungry madmen.”

“And I'm not ashamed to admit it! My Shīfù hates it though. 'Stop murdering people, you crazy apehead, killing is wrong', wah, wah, wah! I just kill the people, who are trying to kill him! Thing is, if he knows they're demons, he doesn't complain, but as soon as he thinks they're human, it's torture time! Sure, he has promised me not to do it again, but he's said that before and broken his word, and I don't believe him anymore! Was Golden Cicada like this?!”

“No”, answered Èrláng. “There was not one false joint in their exoskeleton. They had several shelves full of scrolls and books filled with promises made, just to make sure they wouldn't forget. But they could dish out some nasty punishments to people they felt deserved it. Aside from the True Samadhi Fire, they also possessed several powerful magical treasures.”

“What happened to them?”

“Golden Cicada entrusted them to Yùdĭng Zhēnrén for safe-keeping, to not be given to anyone but their 10th reincarnation. In other words, they belong to your master, if he wants them back. And my Shīfù is much more watchful and cautious with his possession than Lăozi and all the idiots, who can't watch their own pets.”

“Don't remind me! Ugh, they're so annoying! First the old man's assistants ran away with his shit, became demons and tried to eat my master, then the old man's bull ran away, turned into a demon and tried to eat my master, and don't even get me started on that time Guānyīn's goldfish got away, turned into a demon and-”

“Tried to eat your master.”

“Obviously. But I called her and she got him back. Looking back it was kinda funny, though. Bājiè got his arse handed to him by a goldfish!”

“He did?” Èrláng burst into laughter: “Hah! Oh man, I wish I had seen that, I really do! I will totally tell Cháng'é! She's going to love this!”

“But wait! There are more funny stories! You ever heard of the Empire of Women?”

“Of course, why?”

“Okay, so-”

He then proceeded to regale his former nemesis with the story of how his master and Bājiè had gotten themselves knocked up by a magic baby river.

(Èrláng Shén found it just as funny and ironic as Liù'ěr Míhóu had)

[fincalinde]

lwj, for the meme?

Not the Lan bro I was expecting but here goes!

a song that reminds me of them

This doesn't remind me of him because I wouldn't want to ruin it for myself, but I can imagine a sad montage of interregnum LWJ set to I Am Stretched On Your Grave. Anyway, my proper answer is Frostrósir by Eivør. It's in Faroese, which I do not speak, but I pinched something from here:

Each sigh from a lonely soul Every word that was formed without sound Now seems like a frostbitten affair Dressed in the guise of lifeless flowers

what they smell like

We have an answer to this in canon and it's sandalwood, so I don't have much to add.

an otp

I mean, it is the central point of the novel. But even aside from that, LWJ is consistently only ever interested in WWX. I'm not saying he shouldn't be interpreted as gay, but I am saying that even if he is gay it's secondary to his actual sexual identity which is Weiyingsexual. I'm not treading any new ground here.

Personally I don't find Wangxian interesting, but I at least believe they love each other and are compatible in the sense that they are both selfish in slightly different ways that mesh well for their own private universe. Not so great for others in their orbit, but part of that is authorial fiat so I try to be fair about what I hold against them.

I don't think CQL successfully executed the changes it made to Wangxian in having them click and partner up from the beginning, but I do think it was necessary to at least attempt to rebalance the relationship. In MDZS, WWX genuinely does not reciprocate LWJ's feelings in his first life beyond a very deeply buried and not particularly inevitable spark. His first life is really centred on his relationships with JC and JYL and they are the tragic 'romance' (in the traditional sense). LWJ only gets upgraded during the second life. Kind of awkward to do your sweeping romance if it isn't a romance in the 35+ episodes of flashbacks, so I don't blame them for trying. And I do like the Colin Firth vibes WYB brought to his LWJ.

a notp

Aside from not finding the idea of LWJ with anyone else convincing, let me take the opportunity to pettily sideswipe at Chengxian and shoving LWJ in to make it what? Wangchengxian? Is that what it's called? Either way, nooooooo thank you. You can't get much more fraternal than WWX and JC's idiot bickering, and even if they weren't such classic stupid boys together, JC and LWJ loathe one another with the kind of loathing that does not give way to a rendition of I've Grown Accustomed To Her Face. (Incidentally, in the original stage version Eliza walks out on Higgins never to return, and it is awesome.)

favorite platonic/familial relationships

Obviously it's his relationship with LXC (and by extension LQR?). Just absolutely fascinating. Their rapport is very sweet, as is LXC's protectiveness and gentle trolling. LWJ is not a particularly good didi, but LXC both doesn't notice and doesn't mind.

Actually, someone once made a meme for me in relation to this, let me dust it off and drag it out:

More seriously, though he was also raised with harsh discipline, in comparative terms LWJ is the spoilt baby of the family. As is often the result when we encounter morally rigid characters in MDZS, he is also in many respects hypocritical. Clearly I have a lot of negative things to say about him as a brother to LXC, but I'm not interested in demonising him and what's really interesting about it is that by and large this uneven dynamic works for the Twin Jades. Right up until it doesn't.

When LXC really needs LWJ to come through for him, he just doesn't. I'm not even talking about LWJ's behaviour leading up to and during the Temple, which is objectionable in the sense that he refuses to give JGY the benefit of the doubt that LXC extends to WWX. No, I'm talking about the fact that he bods off for literal months after LXC has just been through the worst experience of his life and lost his closest friend and partner. And I don't want to hear it about LXC being the elder and having a responsibility to take care of LWJ. LWJ owes consideration to his big brother and clan leader, even if that consideration might take a different form.

Here's a thought experiment. After WWX's first death, when LWJ has been whipped 33 times by the discipline whip and dragged himself to rescue LSZ and branded himself in drunken grief, can you imagine LXC bodding off for three months without a word to have picnics with JGY? It's inconceivable isn't it.

I didn't intend for this section to become a hit piece on LWJ and he obviously does love his brother, but in terms of actions it is somewhat of a one way street. The fact that LXC has no other expectations doesn't protect LWJ from my croc-hatted judgement face.

a headcanon that is popular in the fandom but that i disagree with

Righteous LWJ. Oh, please. In MDZS, righteousness goes hand in hand with hypocrisy, and though I doubt MXTX the human being intended LWJ to be read as thoroughly selfish, the (translation of) the text she wrote is a depiction of a profoundly selfish man. And that's not a bad thing, because his selfishness coupled with the occasions when he is genuinely altruistic makes him more interesting than if he really were a moralising ice cube with a ribbon tied around it.

the position they sleep in

Official Lan Position, and postcanon I probably don't want to know.

a crossover au i’d love to see them in

I'm going to be lazy and suggest X-Men AU again just because his secondary power would definitely be organic diamond form like Emma Frost. I don't think he'd also be a telepath, but the idea of that is funny because he could read WWX's mind and know for certain that WWX isn't (currently) into him. But as a serious answer, organic diamond form as a secondary power and then primary power the same as Alison Blaire. I see no reason why his mutant name wouldn't be Dazzler too.

my favorite outfit they’ve ever worn

I think he only has like one outfit. I'm sorry, I'm not cool enough to be able to distinguish between different varieties of plain white robes. In CQL I prefer first life LWJ because they put that massive ornament on second life LWJ's head to make him look older and taller but actually they created an unfortunate perspective effect where he just looks even shorter.

[thetragicallynerdy]

game night - jim/ed modern au style

(This ficlet is set in the modern au, aka the Jim/Ed tattoo artist/flower shop au, a long mainly sad au where Jim and Ed find each other at bad times in their lives. This part is a soft part, though.)

"So I can steal your shit."

Ed nods and taps the desert tile. "If you roll a 7, yes."

There's a gleam in Jim's eye that tells him they'll be trying to roll as many seven's as they possibly can. "Sweet. And I'm trying to build houses and shit?"

"And roads. Armies too, if you buy development cards."

"Buy the fucking development cards," Izzy cuts in drily. "Best way to win, in my opinion."

Jim squints suspicously at him. "Uh huh. And I should focus so much on development cards that I don't build castles and shit, is that right?"

Izzy smirks and crosses his arms. "Far be it from me to tell you how to play."

Ed's attention gets pulled away as Fang and Ivan make their way back into the room, both carrying an assortment of food and drinks. Beers, tortilla chips and salsa, and fresh cut veggies that Fang insists on serving because 'game night can be healthy too!'

"Only listen to Izzy a little bit," Fang cautions, handing Jim a beer, cap still on like he knows it'll make them safer. "He gives good advice, but in a way that benefits him."

Ed tries not to pay *too* much attention to the way Jim immediately pulls a knife out of their waistband and uses it to pop the cap of their beer bottle off. It's entirely too hot, and if he stares too long at the way their hands hold the knife then Izzy will notice, the observant fucker.

"I give excellent advice," Izzy protests. "Would I lead Jimbo here astray?"

It's only recently that Izzy, Ivan, and Fang have started calling Jim 'Jimbo,' and it makes Ed smile every time. Makes Jim smile too, even though they try and hide it. He wonders if they have anyone else in their life that likes them enough to call them by a nickname.

"The first time I played, Izzy told me to not worry about building near him, that he wouldn't be in my way at all," Ivan tells Jim, pointing a carrot stick at Izzy. "Fucker blocked me in with roads and settlements within five turns."

Izzy gins like a shark that just smelled blood in the water. "And I taught you a valuable lesson about alliances and how they can be broken, didn't I."

"Taught me not to fucking trust you," Ivan laughs, giving him the finger. "Not stupid enough to fall for it twice."

The gleam is back in Jim's eye, and it almost mirrors Izzy's. Ed grins at the sight of it. He can't wait to see how quickly they pick up the game. They're smart as fuck, and he's seen how vicious they can be when they want to. He hadn't realized how *competitive* they could be until the first time he'd brought over a deck of cards. They're going to give Izzy a run for his money, Ed just knows it.

Ed is good at Catan too - damn fucking good, he has the mind for tactics and a great sense of the game - but he usually gets bored as fuck half-way through and loses as a result. But if Jim is around, then maybe Izzy would finally lose a game here and there. Or even better, maybe Ed would finally find something worth keeping his attention for a whole round.

"So are we putting money on this or what?" Jim asks, leaning towards Izzy and tapping the table.

"That's the spirit," Izzy rasps, grinning even wider. "Twenty bucks -"

"No!" Fang buts in, exasperated. He glares at Ed. "Edward, you brought us another one? No gambling here!"

Jim sits back and pouts, while Izzy glowers at Fang. "If none of you want in, then just Jim and I -"

Fang just shakes his head firmly. "No gambling, love, you know the rules." When Izzy grumbles he leans over and plants a kiss on Izzy's cheek, which makes Izzy shut up, and also turns his face beet red. As if they haven't been basically married for the better part of five years. "At least not for money, or anything worth money."

"Fucking fine." Izzy glares at Jim. "Whoever wins owes the other a pack of smokes."

Jim grins, holds out their hand, and just like that, the bet is made. "It's a bet, motherfucker." 

--

"Read 'em and weep, motherfuckers!" Jim crows, slamming a knight card onto the table, followed by a handful of other development cards. Two victory points, and they already have the longest road -

They lean over the table and swipe the largest army from Izzy's hand. He squawks, but they're faster than he is, and they're already back in their seat, grinning wider than he's seen in months.

"You've played before," Izzy accuses, pointing a finger at Jim. "You cheating fucker, you -"

Jim laughs. "Nah man,  I've never played before. What, you think this game is *hard*?" They lean over the table again, holding out a hand palm-up. "Now pay up, man."

Izzy's nostrils flare. "Double or nothing."

"This is why we don't bet," Ivan snorts, standing up and stretching before he leans over to press a kiss to Izzy's head. Just like before, Izzy's cheeks turn a brilliant shade of red. "Give Jim the smokes they won, babe."

"They cheated!" Izzy protested, waving at Jim and looking back and forth between Ed, Fang, and Ivan's retreating back, heading for the kitchen. "We all saw it!"

Ed kicks lightly at Izzy's foot and grins. "Ah, Iz, forgot what a sore loser you are. You're just pissed because you got cocky and Jimbo here outsmarted you."

Izzy glares at him, then rolls his eyes. "Fucking dick. Fine." He bares his teeth at Jim. "Well played, Jim. I'm going to have a smoke, then I'll get you your fucking pack, and then we're playing another round so I can kick your ass."

"Can't wait." Jim has the audacity to wink at Izzy, and Ed can't hold back the laughter anymore. Izzy rolls his eyes, then heads for the backyard. Fang makes a retreat too, carrying empty beer bottles and the chip bowl for a refill.

When the room is empty Ed leans over and wraps a hand around the back of Jim's neck, bringing them in for a kiss. Their mouth is still curved into a smile, and he loves it, loves seeing them happy and carefree for once.

"Gotta be honest with me," he whispers when he pulls away, grinning so they know he's teasing. "Have you played before?"

They shake their head, whisper back just as conspiratorially. "Nope." Their grin widens. "But I did bring loaded dice."

Ed laughs so hard he falls off his goddamn chair.

[gwydionmisha]

Personal: This Person Just Uncleaned My Apartment

I think I need to tell you about the Cleaner, because OMG, but for that you will need context on my pain/meds situation.

So less pain does not remotely equal no pain.  My hip joints were a mess Wednesday, and only a little better Thursday.  My shoulder joints, and thus my arms, started to go bad Thursday.  The fundamental things wrong with my body aren't fixable, but the new meds are doing a stellar job on what I think of as the secondary pain, IE: everything else not joint or tendon or in their immediate vicinity.  It is far more effective than the muscle relaxants I've been using for decades at this since it's hitting the nerves and not just the muscles.  It also adds to the tired.  So much to the tired.  Bonus: on the new dose, I get dizzy if I don't rest enough, and the heart palpitations hit longer and harder when they hit.

Dramatically better means for an extreme chronic pain/chronic illness perspective, not from a remotely healthy person's perspective, if you follow.  I was into about a month of unbearable torment when we tried the one pill dosage.  I'm still not sure my system can handle the two pills, and I plan to stick to this dose.  They are supposed to last eight hours, but I get an extra four hours of partial coverage per pill, and like I said the side effects are scaling up on me.

So right now my balance sucks, I'm exhausted, and my shoulder joints scream at me if I try to do anything remotely strenuous with them, you follow?

So far I've had four different cleaners turn up, two of them twice.  Three of those are hard and thorough workers.  One of those will not wear her mask.  I put up with it because I am wearing mine and turn on all the fans and I'm scared if I don't take her, no one will come.  (see five skipped cleaning appointments in a row).

Cleaning is a hard fucking job and they are underpaid, get no benefits, no set hours, and have to pay their own travel costs including for the ferry if they are coming from the reservation and that is a lot of gas.  I respect cleaners.  I've done it, after all, amoung the many shit jobs I had over the years.  I trust them to know what they are doing.  This has been the case in three instances.  Most of the conversation with those three cleaners has been things like: Where does this go?  Where is (whatever) kept?  What should i do next?  I refuse to micro manage.  In my experience, micro managing is dramatically less efficient and just insults the person doing the job.  I know I hated it, when I was the person being micro-managed.  This works great for Goth Millennial and for the other three cleaners on the other four occasions.

I'm sure you are sensing the big but here.

So the cleaner who came today, turned up the other time she was here high as a kite.  I don't mean a little buzzed, which is fairly normal in this town and this state.  Weed's been legal here for ages.  People with shitty service jobs occasionally come to work a schootch high.  It doesn't matter in the grand scheme of things if, say, your barista's a little buzzed.  I don't partake myself for a host of reasons, but most of my friends since... I'm going to say 1985, have/do.  A little high is no big deal.

Orbiting Pluto without a suit is.  She was way out of it girl at a party who's friends have to watch her like a hawk high.  She was barely coherent high.  She drove here.  O.o.  She drove home.  This terrifies me.  after some consultation with my friends including them seeing the mess she made and me acting out vignettes, our best guess is she must have dramatically misjudged an edible.  (It had to be vape or edible.  I would have smelled smoke.  Edible makes the most sense for both the degree of Jesus fuck high and the thinking she was fine when she left home, but waaaay not fine when she got here.  Surely she would have cancelled otherwise, right?).

So basically instead of my working away at the aggregate or tumblr queue programming or whatever, it was a lot like baby sitting a toddler who would not shut up, only the toddler would make more sense and the mess would have likely been confined to things in a toddler's reach.  I had to go around after she left and actually use the forbidden to me for safety reasons ladder to save a bunch of my cups and glasses from the accident I could see happening the second Squirrel opened a dish cupboard because he had jammed them in their so precariously that the door was the only thing preventing them falling.  Goth Millennial came the next day and had to take everything out and restack it.  I could live with the fitted sheet being inside out, so we left that for today.

I did not turn her in to the asshole agency because 1. worker solidarity.  I never went to work on a substance, but I've worked so, so many shit jobs and the Asshole Agency is terrible.  2. I was pretty sure it was a mistake involving an edible. 3. I was big on giving people another chance when I was teaching.  On fuck up shouldn't lat for ever unless that fuck up was malicious or really damaging to other people.

Well, fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice shame on me.

No, she was not noticeably high this time, though I couldn't rule a mild buzz out.  She also had a shamefaced and subdued demeanor that clearly told me she knew how badly she'd fucked up last time.  She said she'd signed up for me on purpose instead of her other option because I was really nice to her and my apartment was full of interesting things to look at while she cleaned.  My apartment is full of interesting things to look at and I suspect she liked me because I was consistently kind to her when she was a mess last time and hadn’t turned her in.   She really is sweet and nice and she is clearly trying her best but not remotely the sharpest tool in the shed.  Which can be fine.  I've known a lot of good workers over the years with significant developmental or accident related challenges and they did fine.  She wasn't in that category, but I realized she'd need extra supervision compared to the others.  I underestimated how much.

She did walk right up to Tavy and start petting him right away like last time which again confused and alarmed him.  Sure, Squirrel and I and a couple of the Millennials can do that because we are his particular friends, but he barely knows her and and she would NOT stop doing that last time no matter how many times I told her he was a biter and apt to maul when he was worked up.  I was so proud of him because he did not attack her the first three times, and honestly the forth time, I would have bitten her too in his place.  

Tavy was noticeably wary of her.  He did want to watch what she was doing, but he remembered her.  (By contrast, the other cleaners he'd watch from a distance for a while, and then follow around and in a couple cases, get me to pick him up so he could get a better look.  He really took to the GNC person who came once, and kept sniffing their legs).  He did let her pet him without biting her, and she was together enough to stop when I told her he was down, and leave him alone for the rest of the two hours when I said he was in a mood to hang out and watch but not interact.

I got her through the linen change okay and last time she was so high she forgot we had a dishwasher after she'd emptied it and it took her most of her shift except the linen change, but the dishes looked and smelled clean, so I set her to that and did not remotely supervise her enough.  This I did not discover until evening, but we'll get to that.

Then I set her to sweep and mop, which... Like I've worked a lot of restaurant jobs, often with people in a supported worker with severe intellectual challenges.  I've never seen one who'd been doing it for years who couldn't do it correctly.  She said she'd been doing this for several years.

Assuming makes an ass out of me, doesn't it?

Oh gods the mess she made!  I should have known it was too hard for her when she started prepping for mopping before sweeping.  So I told her to sweep first, which she did.  I told her to dump the water in the sink, not the tub, which turned out to be very, very lucky.  (The tub is the most expensive thing I own.  A city program that remodels for elderly and disabled people paid for it.  I will never be able to afford to fix or replace it.  There are super strict cleaning directions for a reason, because the mechanism is delicate.)  I told her to use the liquid all purpose cleaner under the sink.  I should have got it out and prepped the bucket myself, but bending hurts and I was exhausted and dizzy and my arm situation was deteriorating.  I should have done it anyway, because this is So.  Much.  Worse.

She used a ton of water.  Like way, way to much water in a way that suggested she did not wring the mop and/or she was dumping puddles out of the bucket.  It was a terrifying fall risk situation because this was the end of her shift and I really really needed to get ready for bed as soon as she left and forage delivery was late so I had to go drag it in, just as I'd given up and settled into bed.  So I'm dizzy with unreliable legs, using both hands and going careful back and forth over this swamp of a floor with a weird gritty, soapy texture.  Which is... not what you want in a cleaner for elderly and disabled people.  I could fall and end up in the hospital under those conditions.  And it;'s not like I could want a couple hours for it to dry.  There was no point in washing my feet in the bathroom, so I kept using wipes on them before getting into bed.

Then I woke up to pee and realized just how bad it really was.  *head desk*  My best guess is she used Ajax, which is stored under a bookshelf in the bathroom, not under the sink.  Like a TON of Ajax.  The kitchen sink and nearby counter was caked with it and the floor was tacky and gritty and full of muddy footprints.  I couldn't leave it like that.  I cleaned the sink.  I took the other mop with the disability friendly easy to wring it out attachment which had been to complicated for her head and wet mopped it all again, frequently rinsing and wringing it out, until my arms basically gave out and I had to wash up and take a nap.

It's still incredibly dirty.  I feel like crying, because I can't feel clean unless my feet are.  I've been skating around on damp towels, but though my hip joints are a lot better this evening, I wear out fast and it hurts quite a bit if I do it too much.  I hate leaving a terrible mess like this for the millennial, but I simply can't mop any more with these arms.  I'd have been so much better off giving her something else to do, but I couldn't think of anything else simple enough for her, and I know from last time she will not leave early no matter how much I tell her she can just clock out at the end of the hour.

At this point I was debating what to do.  I had settled on calling Monday and asking them to put her on my no list without giving a reason, because I simply can't go through this again.  It's too hard on my body and it's incredibly could seriously injure me dangerous.

Then I went to feed the Empress Livia and discovered something worse.

I'm medically fragile.  Amoung so many other things, I have an immune system that is far more interested in own goals than fighting pathogens.  I can and will catch anything you expose me too.  Anything.  I also have a dicey digestive system.  Anything I use to prepare food or eat or drink needs to be really fucking clean. We prewash for grease and stuck on food then run them through the washer to make sure the soap and anything else is off.  yes, I know this is bad for the environment as it uses extra water, but it’s a serious safety issue for me.

I was very, very clear on directions because I remembered last time.  “Wash the dishes and then put the in the dishwasher.  The dishes in there are dirty, so don’t put them away.  I will run the washer after you leave.”  Did she do that?  No.  Were the dishes cleaned and dried, which would be reasonably acceptable as an alternative?  No.  They were jammed in with the clean dishes, soaking wet and covered in soap bubbles six or seven hours after she left.  We'll have to go through all the pans tomorrow.  I pulled the pans and dishes I remembered were in the sink yesterday.  I have no way of guessing with the glasses and flatware and I don't know which things Squirrel put in there.  

I am exhausted and I hurt and I've been pushed way past the limit of what my body can handle in a day and I can't trust my dishes or the glass I'm drinking out of and I can't get the dirty Ajax grit off my feet.  I'm going to go take a bath, but my feet will be dirty again the second I touch the floor.

She's another poor person.  I feel like a class traitor just putting her on my no list, but she could theoretically kill an elderly person with her mopping, and I can't decide if I should say something, because anything I do will be a terrible option.

This person literally uncleaned my apartment.  I just....

Look, I know it’s a free service, but this is so very much worse than when they don’t send anyone.

[strayslost]

GETTING TO KNOW YOUR MOOTS BETTER !

Fill out the info sheet below & tag your friends to do the same ! Repost , don’t reblog !

🌊 🐇

Name / Pen-name : Meri!

Pronouns : She/her (okay with they/them too!)

Country / Region : England.

Timezone : GMT

Age / Age group : 25, as of this month!

Favourite colours : Pink, turquoise/teal, yellow, cream & brown, and maybe green too???

Favourite foods : How can you expect me to choose!! if I listed them all I'd be here all day ;~; I suppose a couple are cheesecake, custard (and sweets/cakes generally tbh), spaghetti bolognese, salmon... I've gone too braindead to think of more, sorry :')

Non - RP Hobbies ? : Watching/reading anime, manga and visual novels (when I've got the executive function for it), music, video games, decoration/design, and working on my own stories/songs! I'd love to stream someday, but I'm a bit too nervous to start atm, haha. Same with blogging about some of the things that are important to me - I'd love to do more in that regard, but I'm not really sure where to start.

Favourite animal : BUNNIES and sea creatures in general!! In particular, octopi, sea otters and sea turtles have my whole heart <33

Any allergies ? : I actually have had an allergic reaction to something like. once in my life, but unfortunately I have no idea what it was to, otl ;w; so uhhh. I guess my answer is a "not really"??

Favourite Season : Ooooh, I can't choose. Aesthetically, maybe summer or winter, with autumn close behind. In practice, I'm terrible with temperatures that are too hot or too cold, though!

Scents you like : Vanilla and coffee! Though my sense of smell is pretty bad generally, I'd say these are my favorites.

Coffee / tea / hot cocoa : Tea (with a bit of sugar!). Hot cocoa can be great too, and I don't like the taste of coffee, but I do benefit from the effects of caffeine, so I tend to drink lattes instead.

How long have you been in your current fandom ? : for BSD, it's only been about a year! Actually, I'm pretty sure I got into the series sometime around December 2022, since that's when I first made my Chuuya blog?? It's pretty quickly risen to the spot of my favourite piece of media ever though, at least currently, so congrats to BSD are in order, I think!

Do you prefer to ‘ wing ’ your threads or discuss plots with your partner during or ahead of time ? : I enjoy both! I think my favourite thing to do is to have or discuss a general idea for the starter/thread, for example like... "my muse is time traveling from the future to meet yours", or "my muse discovers a secret yours is hiding," so like basic plotting, and then just seeing where things go from there. But I absolutely enjoy winging it too/just seeing what happens, and I love just as much when my partners have something they particularly want to explore and let me know, so I'm pretty flexible in that regard, I think! (aka send me your wishlists >:) )

Are you okay with getting to know your RP partners outside of writing / becoming good online friends or even offline friends ? : 100000%, honestly I would love this so much! But full warning in advance, I am... very bad at being active and replying to messages quickly in general, otl. I don't have many friends irl as a result of this, even though I really would really like to make more... unfortunately my functioning issues in most areas of my life are pretty bad and this extends to maintaining conversations too. HOWEVER, you're absolutely always welcome to message me whenever you'd like, even if I haven't replied to your last message yet! I find that this can help prompt me to reply to my old messages as well, and I can promise you that my slow replies are absolutely not an indication that I don't want to talk with you or of how I feel about you - I'm just very awkward and find socializing hard, but that doesn't stop me from really enjoying talking with you nonetheless!! (This applies to my RP reply speeds too, tbh) There's way more I could say on this but I might make it it's own post tbh, this section is already getting too long. tl;dr i love you all, let's be friends!! <33

Finally , what are your favourite genres of RP ?: I'm not so good at defining genres, so instead I'll say - I love angst and conflict between characters but also resolving conflicts too, seeing characters get to know and relate to each other better... I'm a big fan of threads with supernatural elements, in particular those that are shocking to the characters, and of secrets being revealed generally too! Exploring character's insecurities and beliefs and having them change their perspective is great as well... basically, I'd say I enjoy "meaty" threads with lots of emotions or action over like slice-of-life, casual interactions, but even those can be fun if they're well done, honestly!

Tagged by : @chaosbled ( thank you so much!!! ;w;)

Tagging : I haven't been logged in enough to know who's done this already if I'm honest so I'm just gonna say anyone who wants to and hasn't done it yet - say I tagged you! <3

[eolewyn1010]

Dragging Frankenstein - Chapter 4

Onward and downward, but before we get down to brass tacks: I know Shelley talks her way around the actual process of making the Creature, but. The Creature needs to sleep, needs to eat, needs to recover from wounds - everything we know about this guy indicates that he's made of organic, "living" matter. So I will go with the traditional reading that all the corpses weren't just delivering reference material, but also building material to Frankenstein. Which means, yeah, I'm gonna mention the rotting issue, and no, I'm not talking of Victor's decaying morals.

“found even in M. Krempe a great deal of sound sense and real information, combined, it is true, with a repulsive physiognomy and manners” – ooookaaay, this is making me mildly sick. Although with the way Mary Shelley writes it, she strongly implies that Victor’s attitude is wrong, so I’ll give her the benefit of the doubt. (And kick the little shit against the shin.) DELUSIONS OF GRANDEUR: 3

“two years during which I paid no visit to Geneva” – okay, WHAT. You don’t even go home for Christmas?? Your siblings, your father, your preciousest Elizabeth??? Egotist.

Ok, fine, he makes a lot of progress. Only serves to blow up his ego tho.

Not to be morbid here, but Victor studying the dead and decay is the first point where the story really had me in its grip and I fully bought into his dedication to science itself, not to the glory in it. Good shit.

“like the Arabian who had been buried with the dead and found a passage to light, only aided by one glimmering and seemingly ineffectual light” – ???? Is this something one should know? I’m kind of afraid to research it; I suspect some gross cultural misrep. Or is it Biblical?

How very practical that Victor has a morally sound reason not to share the secret of creating life, so nobody can ever confirm or deny his singular-in-history brilliance. DELUSIONS OF GRANDEUR: 4

“how much happier that man is who believes his native town to be the world” – how does Victor manage to criticize himself and his own attitudes and still come across as belittling?

“give life to an animal as complex and wonderful as a man” – sorry, I have to. DAS GAY: 13

Hey, he’s not building a woman there.

Incidentally, a woman would get him to the way more obvious process of creating life; why is he studying corpses but not pregnancies? Is that icky to get his hands on or what?

“I resolved to make the being of a gigantic stature” – not to be gross here, but I think Victor fantasizes about getting absolutely ravished by a tall, strong man.

“having spent some months in successfully collecting and arranging my materials” – aw, what a sweet phrasing for defiling corpses.

“A new species would bless me as its creator and source" – DELUSIONS OF GRANDEUR: 5

God-Adam-Lucifer delusion, go!

Also, a man. He’s trying to build a human man. From human materials. This is not a new species. It’s not an act of creating something that wasn’t there before. The original idea is the process of creation, not the resulting creature.

“No father could claim the gratitude of his child so completely as I should deserve theirs” – there’s so many things wrong with that. First of all, manipulative as all shit. Second, do you make a child to have them indebted to you? Third, with the homoerotic undertones of Victor desiring to create a beautiful man, this gets a very unhealthy one on the INCEST VIBES: 4

“renew life where death had apparently devoted the body to corruption” – uhm. Isn’t that what he needs to do now, too? How do the parts for his man-in-the-making not decay further during the process? Especially since it’s in a tower room during the summer. The stench must be hell. How is nobody noticing him sneaking around carrying body parts and his room smelling absolutely horrible? Huh. People get up to some weird shit in college, I guess.

“tortured the living animal to animate the lifeless clay” – aw, he’s such a sweetheart. How comes he’s not missed at university? He’s probably not attending lessons anymore; how can he stay around?

“It was a most beautiful season” etc. – ok, how would he know? He says he’s not paying attention to anything. Shelley, that’s a POV error. And he doesn’t even reply to his father’s concerns. IT’S ALL ABOUT ME: 3

The attitude tho. “I then thought that my father would be unjust if he ascribed my neglect to vice, or faultiness on my part, but I am now convinced that he was justified in conceiving that I should not be altogether free from blame.” – okay, WHAT. 1st, robbing graveyards is very much a vice, Victor. 2nd, you are absolutely to blame entirely. 3rd, he’s right, you are neglecting university. Where does Victor get off painting himself in such a saintly light?

“if no man allowed any pursuit whatsoever to interfere with the tranquility of his domestic affections, Greece had not been enslaved, Caesar would have spared his country, America would have been discovered more gradually, and the empires of Mexico and Peru would not have been destroyed.”

I. WHAT.

…I choose to be a highly offended historian about this, and move on. Also, because he thinks it’s so very simple to just apply his personal faults to all of human history and therefore solve all problems, this gets a glaring IT’S ALL ABOUT ME: 4

“But I forget that I am moralizing” – HA! I’m in incredulous giggles here.

“I shunned my fellow-creatures as if I had been guilty of a crime” …honey, you are. Multiple crimes, actually. And counting. Self-awareness whomst?

Whew, this chapter was dense. And so is Victor.

[bodhrancomedy]

The Beginning of the Winning Option: Finn and the Arsonist!

In three years of running the only cat sanctuary in Middle Besser, I’ve heard a lot of their odd tales about how they ended up here.

Getting into fights is a common one. Getting trapped in wells happens more often that you’d think. Inattentive families, owners needing the space… the list goes on. I try not to judge people’s situations too harshly. After all, my main witness is going to be a little biased and cat-senses don’t always translate well to human, as you’d expect. But there are definitely pickups I’ve done that have made my blood boil, if you don’t mind me saying.

But I’ve never had one before that made me scared and certainly never had one involving one of my closest friends.

It was a stinking hot day in the middle of summer when a small child barged open the door to the Respite with a terrified cat yowling at a pitch to match the temple bells.

I had been dozing at the counter, sweat sticking my sandy curls to my forehead and a new bandage wrapped around my arm – one kitten had not wanted to take her medicine – so I damn well fell out of my chair as a screaming feline was dumped a fingerbreadth from my face.

“I found them in Gert’s Alley,” the girl said helpfully, in lieu of greeting. She was probably nine or ten; a scruffy little thing in a faded blue dress with adorable tight black coils and a missing tooth so her next words came out as a lisp, “He theemed thercared. Look at all the blood!”

Dragging myself up from floor and trying to wipe the sleep from my eyes, I blearily focused on my newest patient. She (and definitely she, I noted as she wriggled out of the blanket) was a gorgeous black Kysi with golden eyes and the huge ears typical to her breed. As she backed up, hissing, I reached out a hand and concentrated, drawing up warm reserves of the little magic I had from my chest and into my throat.

Translation spells, in my experience anyway, always had a taste. I’d never been particularly good at them: it was almost easier to just do the hard work and learn the language. But translating my tongue to that of cats was like clicking your fingers might be to someone else. Easy. Not requiring much thought at all.

Cat tastes like buttermilk. I don’t know why, but there seems to be a connection to what I taste and what I’m trying to speak. Bee tastes, almost boringly, of honey. Spider has a dusty texture. Rat, for some odd reason, is hazelnut. I haven’t worked out that one and neither had the teachers out in the Hartland’s. I think one of my classmates who fell into the academic trap – track, sorry – is compiling research on it.

(I answered her very impersonal letter a few months ago and never heard back. Hope I helped. She did bully me into passing my star-reading exam, after all.)

I took a breath, the flavour rising into my nose, and attempted first contact. “Easy there… I’m not gonna hurt you… what’s your name…?”

The cat hissed again, but only for show because she answered quickly, “Smells-like-this. But upright call me Smoke.”

“I’m Finn,” I said, almost more for the benefit of the still-watching urchin. I projected an imitation of my scent into her mind: a kind of mix of cat fur, woodsmoke, and lye soap, and asked, “May I touch you? I need to find where you’re bleeding.”

Smoke hesitated and then lay down. “Yes.”

Carefully, I reached forwards, letting her sniff my hand. “Could you get me a bucket from the pump?” I asked the girl.

She nodded with great dignity and vanished outside. I turned my attention back to Smoke. It was funny: she was far better fed than a stray ought to be –

“Know your smell, upright.”

I jumped. Swallowing hard, I managed to keep the connection strong enough to ask, “You… do?”

Smoke curled up under my hand. “It was on take-off furs. And blood not mine.”

Ice settled in my stomach, cold fingers squeezing my guts paper-thin. “Whose is it…?”

Her tail thrashed, ears flattening against her head. “My upright.” The flash of fangs made me jerk my hand away. I was panting and I didn’t know why.

“What happened?”

Smoke sat up again, fixing shining golden eyes on me. She raised her head like a queen, crossing one paw in front of the other.

“Uprights invade territory. Smash door. I fight. Upright feeder does too. I run when they lay red flower.”

“Red flow…” Suddenly, the buttermilk soured to smoke and ash as my mind made the necessary translation. Terror thumped through my chest. “They burnt the house?”

I grabbed the cat by the scruff of the neck as she bolted from my shout. She tried to claw at me, but I didn’t even feel it. “What does your upright look like, Smoke?”

“Put down!”

“Please, tell me. What do they look like?”

“Upright! Smell like this! Not brown-black fur like you. White-orange fur! Cloud eye! Make pretty noise a lot!” She meowed as I dropped her, landing perfectly on the table as I fell into my chair.

“Gert’s Alley… that’s where you were found?”

Smoke leapt to the ground and gave me the feline equivalent of a shrug.

I was up and running down the street before I even realised I’d processed the information.

I’d really love to see which story appeals. It’s a good exercise for me to get over creative burn-out (and I’m so burnt out).

[castlebyersafterdark]

But it's fascinating looking at what he decides to post and share. Because sometimes I think... why do that? I look and it makes me happy but I wonder, why these moments?

wahhhh the thoughts in THIS post are soooooo up my street! only today i was tempted to post something recreational on social media for the first time in years (i only use it sporadically for my work) and i had a little talk with myself about exactly what you asked: who is it for?

this is a question i ask myself about so many things in my life, from what i wear today to what i want to do with my whole life. its a great question! a good psychology question.

ive also had people i love say its nice to see what i chose to post on insta back when i did (mainly in covid times), theyre seeing through my mind and wondering, just like you are about your fiance, vinny (🥳). i always find it interesting when you can see some artistic influence in their posts, if they dont sound like the person you know irl.

and honestly, today, it was a feeling of WOW this is a beautiful day and beautiful pic, and i want to cement it somehow by putting it online. its almost like the act of sharing is addictive, even though i never felt that great when i noticed the views ticking up or even the comments. lets face it, most social media comments are boring af. i much prefer long form chats with friends, and on here lol! i didnt post it in the end. what would it have been for?

so let's swing this back to our boy noah. i am not someone who ever posted thirst traps or even pics of my face, i just always think it's got an 'I'd like validation please' vibe that makes me cringe. but many do post themselves! and noah is a public figure. his face and personage is his brand, so if he wants a presence and maybe more modelling gigs, posting his face is a good idea. but i do also think the boy has a little vain streak that someone like finn, for example, doesn't. no shade because its always connected to deeper stuff - possibly insecurity, very human, very valid! to me, noah's possible insecurity manifests as a need for the attention. whereas finn's manifests as avoiding attention. so this year, noah leaving sm has been a great change and growth for him - can i live without this?

and likewise finn has been leaving his comfort zone by diving into things (like modelling and perfume ads) that clearly feel fish out of water for him. theyre both fascinating.

so i looked at that finn acc noah followed, and it seems to be one of the more lowkey ones - it doesnt have an obvious searchable username like FINN WOLFHARD FANS or something lol. its niche. so thats... yeah. haaaaaaaaa. and its also fan engagement rather than posts of finn's professional photoshoots and stuff, so noah clearly appreciates the Real Finn. 🤭 but theres also pics of finn with other friends and castmates a lot. so it almost seems like the equivalent of scrolling a crush's FB wall, seeing what theyre up to without you. cos finn doesnt have an acc where he posts his life, does he? and we all know there's like zero pics of noah and finn hanging out together lol. so noah won't be spying pics of him and finn together. maybe his camera roll is already full of that 🤭 but otherwise, smells like doomscrolling. oh boyo :(

once again i cannot stop rambling.

Getting to this one finally!!!

It is very worthwhile pausing and re-evaluating what we share and why - all good points and insight. Social media is a good tool for showcasing work if you have a talent or field that benefits from a visual - I sometimes miss having an art account that was public, but I think I also like keeping it as something private for those close to me until maybe one day I change my mind and decide to do something with it. I go back and forth and right now I sit with keeping my hobby a hobby, no temptation to make it more than it is. I really kinda simplified my life in the last few years if that makes sense? Choosing when and what to share publicly has been a big challenge but something centering as well. Different needs for different people!

The act of sharing IS addictive, and I can admit that about this blog in general. Me at the beginning, eating all my words, "I don't want to make it too personal, but..." and here I am now, sharing so much. It was a discomfort with the fandom, though, and not knowing what this corner would be like, and the jarring nature of having people actually send me messages where before - it was kind of isolated on this site and when I sought online interaction, it was always a bit hostile on places like twitter or reddit. This ended up being so so different. Every day, entirely unexpected.

Swinging over to the boys! Funny, I was someone who in the past posted for attention. I'll say it! Thirst traps and all the cringey like, part of why I won't share myself online anymore - if my friends share candids on private accounts, totally fine. But having my life hyper documented, by my own hand, just really freaked me out at one point. All done with that. So it's interesting being a big fan of celebrities where we hang on the edge waiting for a glimpse, and I do!! I totally do! Being a public figure for sure - that's kind of necessary to a degree. And a little vanity is ok - can go overboard. Balance. Sharing things, keeping other things personal. "Can I live without this?" That's everything. Healthy.

Think you're right about the fan account, there's an angle there I hadn't considered. Because let's say there is/was something there with him either crushing or wanting to enjoy looking at his guy - where else is he going to look up a bunch of photos of him? Google isn't personal. There's a fan-curated space with everything good all in one spot. Crush scrolling. Relatable. So human. But with the privilege of having your famous crush also crushed on by many so they do the work gathering info for you hahaha

Love to ramble, no one here should ever apologize for rambling!!! I am the crown prince of rambling ceaselessly hahahaha

[farmhandler]

I've returned from the grave to bring you a McKirk wip. To my followers: I know this is left field. I'm sorry. I have several wips going on at any given time and usually I don't post them early, but I figured why the hell not. I'm not doing anything else on this blog! Heed the tags

Very small teaser for my horny McKirk one-shot.

---

It was a popular assumption—more like a long-held belief—that there were no alphas in Starfleet. Hell, there were barely any alphas in the entire galaxy. Less than one thousand, last Leonard had checked, and that was being generous with the psi-rating and not accounting for any other mitigating factors.

No; the idea that there were no alphas in Starfleet wasn’t wholly true. There were five. Leonard knew this because he’d checked—more than once. It wasn’t a matter of public record, but becoming the CMO for aboard Enterprise had its perks.

“Bones!”

Jim’s voice came before the man himself, walking into the medbay with a purpose.

“Bones!” he repeated, walking right up to Leonard and spinning him around. His attire made him appear more like a man possessed; his hair was horribly askew, his zipper was undone, and Leonard didn't even need to turn around to smell the scent of post-heat radiating off him.

“Wh—Jim, do you have any idea what time it is? Let go of me!” Leonard stepped away from Jim, who remained undeterred, grinning at him like he’d struck gold. “Alpha shift just started. What are you doing awake?” Leonard continued, and couldn’t help but add, “and what are you doing coming here, smelling like that?”

“Alpha, ha.” Jim smiled privately. “Since you’re commenting on the way I smell, what do you think?” He cocked his head, clasping his arms behind his back, looking pleased as punch. Probably thought he was being subtle about it, too. “I’ve been told it smells nice.”

Leonard snorted, moving away from Jim to continue calibrating his tricorder. The damn thing had been acting twitchy all week, and they only had so many; he didn’t want to have to send for replacement if he could help it.

“It does,” Leonard finally said. He wouldn’t be an alpha if it didn’t smell nice. Real fucking nice. The kind of nice Leonard wanted to sink his teeth into. But he’d gotten so used to the smells of other omegas in various states of heat that none of it bothered him anymore. Much. Leonard always kept a hypo-spray of general-purpose suppressants on hand should any issues arise.

Only a few relevant people knew Leonard was an alpha. Leonard didn’t try to keep it a secret. They—alphas—were an insignificant and patently useless subset of the population. They weren’t required for procreation efforts and had no advantages physiologically outside of said efforts. Sure, there were ancient studies that purported alphas benefited from an advanced hypertrophy, but to what end? Society ran just fine without ‘em.

They didn’t even need alphas for soul bonds anymore. Temporary, minimally invasive bonds benefits omegas in the short term and allowed them a greater freedom.

He lifted the tricorder into the air and began scanning Jim just to see if his calibrations had made a difference. Jim wrinkled his face, eyelashes fluttering over baby blue eyes with disdain at the abrupt examination. He tried swatting Leonard’s hand away, which Leonard caught.

“Bones, why are you scanning me?”

“Tricorder malfunction. And to your earlier point, you know damn well I’ve got a great sense of smell, Jim.” He tried not to think about how close his thumb was to Jim’s wrist. For a high psi-rated alpha like him, leaning too close to said smell-factory might make him feel dizzy.

“Don’t any sudden moves to pick up a hypo and you can scan me all you like.” Jim smiled, all easy and genuine affection. He only got like that before and after his heat. Leonard could drown in that smile; he wasn’t built to withstand it.

“You’re lucky I don’t hypo you for the sake of it. Did you know how going into heat fucks up that fancy little ecosystem you’ve got going on in there?”

“You’ve only told me a few dozen times,” Jim drawled, still smiling. He swatted Leonard’s hand when he lowered the tricorder towards his abdomen. “You can put that thing away now. I’m not hearing any suspicious beeping.”

Leonard huffed. He set down the tricorder on the nearby biobed and then realized with a start he still had Jim’s wrist in his hand.

“Sorry,” he groused, taking a step back. “Yeah, and you’d well remember it, Jim. Aside from the downright chemical smell that comes off of you once a month, omegas go from practically psi-null to C30 in the blink of an eye! Thank god we’re not a telepathic species, because you can imagine the chaos this ship would be if that were the case? That sugary sweet, homemade apple-pie only your mama could make tempting you, only instead of just the smell alone, it’s sending those signals directly into your goddamn brain.” Leonard tapped two fingers against his temple. “With words and images attached.”

“Apple pie?” Jim raised an eyebrow. “You know, Bones, it's cute your accent gets thicker when you’re ranting.”

“How many omegas are on this ship, Jim?”

“A few dozen,” Jim said, moving to lean against the nearby wall. Leonard noticed Jim regarded him with a slow, vertical sweep of his eyes as he paced.

“And there are psionic scent chemicals spewing all over the place at any given moment.” Leonard spun around and pointed a finger at him. “Your body chemistry goes out the window, along your sense of reason. And all it takes is a few hours and an—”

“—assload of discharge, followed by fluids plus proteins—also known as lubrication—for several hours, up to a full day,” Jim finished. He crossed his arms, blinking tiredly. “Yeah, Bones, everyone knows what it is. No, Bones, no one thinks it’s sexy when you put it like that!” Jim yawned and scratched the back of his neck. “Maybe you do, I dunno.”

“I’m a doctor, not a creep. I’m just sayin’ it’s…” Leonard paused, gaze sweeping up and down Jim’s form. He brought his hand to rub at the side of his face and realized he could smell Jim all over it. His hand moved to his mouth, dragged down slowly over his chin.

“You should be in bed, Jim. Post-heat earns you at least half a day.” He smirked. “I’ll even write you a doctor’s note.”

[bluemoonperegrine]

Wolf Be Upon Yeet: Part IV

The origin of this series' title is revealed FINALLY.

For anyone who's unfamiliar with this insanity, @vicarious-rebel and I chatted via DM about the Werewolf By Night and Moon Knight crews in her headcanon which includes Elsa’s pet eldritch horror Stony, which had been the Bloodstone but is now literally a monster. Here are part I, part II, and part III. See the very end of this post for links to Stonyverse fics.

On with the show, which gets positively absurd!

Vi’s text is black. bluemoonperegrine’s text is blue. When I can't remember who wrote what, the text is purple.

We previously established that Jack's favorite snack is salmon paste, which is literally pureed salmon. Healthy and delicious! 😂

I can see Marc just trying to cook salmon for himself and werewolf Jack is prowling nearby. He has to constantly shoo him away or distract him while trying not to overcook/burn the food.

Marc grills salmon when he thinks Jack is off running errands or something. Then suddenly, hungry werewolf.

Marc: dammit throws 1/3 of the steak at the wolf, who catches it in midair and swallows it whole

Jack comes back from grocery shopping and immediately smells salmon, sides up to Marc and does the puppy eyes thing Marc: Jack, no Jack: pls? Marc: no Jack: (puppy eyes intensifies) Marc: fuck… fine!

omg, Jack workin' those green puppy dog eyes. Resistance is futile.

He'd bat his lashes. Totally.

His eyes are his greatest weapon and he knows it. Closely followed by his smile.

What if Steven is immune to Jack's puppy eyes bc he himself has puppy eyes energy?

They have puppy-dog-eye-offs IDK who wins really

Now I'm imagining Marc going to great lengths to keep his salmon to himself. After checking Jack's schedule, he checks weather conditions. Takes the grill downwind from the manor.

Doesn't matter. Jack will sniff out the salmon.

Jack can be a formidable persistence hunter when it comes to his fave treats

It's a tie obviously, they both puppy eyes

Jack: "I can do this all day" puppy dog eyes

God help anyone who gets puppy eyes treatment from both of them at once. Insta kill

I can imagine Layla or Elsa "deploying" them both. "Boys, go get 'em."

Have you seen the clip from Mozart in the Jungle where they riff on Gael's eyes? Never fails to crack me up. Rodrigo is such a drama queen.

"WhY aRe YoU sO dRaMaTiC???" he says and falls to the ground sobbing dramatically. Self-awareness: -100

I'm working on my Stony fic now. Doing my damnedest to not let it turn into something… long. IT DOESN'T HAVE TO BE LONG, DAMMIT. channeling Rodrigo: "Why why WHY does everything have to be LOOOOONG?"

because the characters are greedy YES it's their fault 😂

Jack is just an enthusiastic cook and wants to feed all his friends. Prime mom friend behaviour.

Yep, and providing for his pack. He's psyched to learn new dishes because he's 237 years old and hadn't been to Ethiopia before.

He has a long list of dishes he can make and he just wants to make it Longer

He's the kind of cook who can just whip stuff up based on what's on hand. If he's totally new to something he'll look at recipes. After that he's just throwing stuff in a pot and it all works out 99% of the time.Jack is intuitive AF in my mind

It's def heightened by his werewolf senses but even without them he's still pretty good at guessing things/reading people

I think he and Jake have that in common bc Jake has certainly had to learn how to gauge people but maybe he's much more suspicious than Jack.

Jake assumes the worst in people. Jack doesn't. He's not naive, but gives people a chance.

Jack wants to give people the benefit of the doubt, whereas Jake is in full-blown Protective mode all the time

Yes. That was Jake's job for most of the system's life

Jake is the mother hen whether he likes it or not. He'll never admit it.

Jack, on the other hand, is pretty open about being a mom friend. He's spent so much time alone that he looooves having a pack to take care of and be with

Jake: fuck all of y'all (one of them bumps their toe or something) Jake: (internally screaming, cue the kill bill sirens)

Jack and found family ❤️

Can you imagine the mother-henning from Jack if one of the MK/WBN crew got sick? Like the flu? omg In my headcanon Jack never gets sick, but still has allergies that make him sneeze a lot.

If Jack so much as hears someone sneeze or cough One Time, that's it. "here's a blanket, drink this tea, get some rest, eat this soup" it's almost overbearing but he does it out of genuine love and concern so it's not like anyone can hold it against him

After he tucks them into bed, he's in the kitchen making chicken soup from scratch and whatever Mexican equivalents are

Plus Marc is most in need of mother henning in those times bc he's gonna be adamant that he's fine and Jack's just not having it.

He needs it and wants it but hates that and tries to deny himself that. Jack just bulldozes through all of that and takes care of him and Marc secretly is all ❤️

Elsa is similar in my headcanon, but not as extreme

Marc: (through clenched teeth) I'm fine (meanwhile he's had a migraine for three days, his nose is stuffy and he just started coughing) Jack: no, you're not (mother hen mode activated)

I'd say Elsa would be similar but in her case it's out of pride (I'm a Bloodstone, I will not be defeated by a mere cold) Jack: Elsa, please Elsa: oh, fine but only because it's my favourite tea

In my Elsa headcanon it's about needing to be invulnerable, not needing any support. (although she does)

She does strike me as a bit hyperindividualistic

[I'm omitting an emotional scene from one of my fics here.]

Jack doesn't understand some of Elsa's behavior, but accepts it. Sets boundaries as needed. And Elsa is totally baffled by him, but grateful.

Mostly she wants to go beat something up.

Elsa: I don't talk about my feelings, I go beat someone or something up about them

Elsa: AND IT'S WORKED PERFECTLY FOR 40 YEARS THANKYOUVERYMUCH

Jack just pouts and shakes his head, "but it's not healthy" Elsa: grumbles

time passes Elsa: Talk later, okay? I'm gonna work the body bag for a bit. Jack: smiles

Jack accidentally catches Stony's eye and freezes Marc: (sigh) Elsa please get Stony, he's scaring Jack again

Elsa quickly trains Stony to not enter the wing of the manor with the kitchen. It's a total no-go zone so Jack doesn't lose his mind.

Idea for a crack fic: Since Jack freezes when Stony stares at him, the gang figures that's one of his powers. So they go on a mission and try to use it.

It doesn't work. The monsters don't care that Stony is staring. The battle doesn't go very well, but the gang wins in the end.

Jake: You're telling me that ONLY JACK freezes from Stony? It's all in his head???

Jack: retorts in agitated Spanish, including something about people living in glass houses throwing stones

Elsa and Layla have to calm everyone down

Yep, with Jack freezing up every time it's understandable if they think it's an ability and not just the resident werewolf tapping into prey instincts he didn't know he had

Jack: Puta madre! I'M AN APEX PREDATOR!

Everyone else: laughs

Steven: actually, you're TWO apex predators

Jack: Right?!?

Jake: snickers

Marc: you'll be the first apex predator to freeze up out of fear Jack: you watch your mouth Marc: careful or you won't get salmon

Comment on a GREAT wbn fic on AO3: "Jack is such a brave cinnamon roll I just want to hug him ❤️ "

I want that on a bumper sticker.

I'm trying to imagine what they'd binge watch on TV

Universal monster movies and Jack's just riffing on them "that's not accurate" "That's what everyone thinks, but actually…" "Dracula is not that cool, come on! Bela Lugosi is hot tho" "dracula has a mean left hook" "cReAtUrE FrOm ThE bLaCk LaGoOn"

In my MK s2 the gang watched Ancient Aliens on the History Channel and had a ball jeering it. Steven got a little incensed at the inaccurate Egyptian stuff, though. But he got over it quickly

MK/WBN crew watching dracula Marc: oh hey that reminds me (calls up Dracula) You still owe me money, bitch

Steven: WITH INTEREST Jack, rubbing his hands: you know, if you want help with him I could chip in

Jack, under his breath: I hate that guy it's personal for him 😂

Marc and Jack hating on Dracula be like You know that whole time travel thing about going back in time to kill hitler? Jack would totally do it to off Dracula

Jack: you can't curse my family if you're Dead

Elsa: practical to an extreme Jack: head-in-the-clouds poet You know, it's kind of like Spike being a vampire. It was genius to make William a soft, sappy poet

it's even better because Jack gets all poetic in life-or-death situations like the whole crypt scene, he talks about family and then he drops the "We could die here" oh so casually

his whole hand-wavy thing describing family being an atmosphere gotta love how he talks with his hands like that

What was it he said? "It's an option. Not my choice, but an option."

WTF, man. 😂

Definitely said like someone who's lived a long, long time

"we could definitely die here but eh, it could be worse I guess"

There are things worse than death. Monsters have seen it 😬

We need a lot more Ted, and definitely them working with MK and Layla!

Jack would so not be phased by Khonshu and Taweret he's be mildly surprised, maybe. Then be impressed by their costumes

another crack fic idea: Jack, having seen way too much in his long life: ok so the thing that gives me hell every month is governed by a mummified pidgeon-headed skeleton, whatever

"cool suit tho"

for reasons, the WBN and MK crew encourage Jack to write poetry. Some of it's good, some not so much. It takes practice.

Jack gets writer's block and gives up.

His friends arrange for Stony to scare the crap out of him. Writer's block goes poof

also "I didn't think the moon would be so petulant"

within a year of Stony hanging around Jack's gray has gone all white 😂

Jack: my salt and pepper hair is losing the pepper

He thought he'd been long-suffering before. Enter Stony 🤣

His friends assure him that he looks great all white. jack still pouts sometimes. Glares at Stony

Jack being all dramatic abt things he's been through and then he sees Stony and goes "I'd still go through it again in place of dealing with That"

In my WIP there's an alternate universe for a little while--I won't get into why--and Jack remembers original him. He soon discovers that alternate him dyes his hair. He's like "Seriously? That's lame" (paraphrasing)

"That's some weak game, me"

fun headcanon time: Elsa once gave Jack a few pairs of her old leather pants bc she couldn't fit in them anymore and to everyone's surprise they fit Jack perfectly

Elsa: I can't squeeze into them anymore but I like them so I don't wanna just throw them away and you're skinny af so here

"Jack, where's my black [something]! You keep stealing it!"

Jack: I'm not skinny. I have a swimmer's physique. (OK, he wouldn't say that. IIRC Niles said that in an ep of Frasier and it was hilarious.)

Elsa: give me back my jacket Jack: no, it's comfy and you can't even close it anyway Elsa: I don't care, it's a fashion statement, now hand it over Marc: Jack, are you wearing Elsa's clothes? Jack: purses lips Jack: it's not what it looks like, I swear Jake: it looks like you're wearing Elsa's jacket and those leather pants are more her style than yours, amigo

Steven: And you both look fantastic in it! 😁

Steven wants to take everyone clothes shopping. Marc and Elsa would rather fight horrible, nasty creatures than do that

Marc and Elsa, the stubborn not-this-mundane-shit duo we didn't know we needed

before long Steven and maybe Jack would be clothes shopping for Elsa. They find really cool stuff actually

Elsa likes it but doesn't want to admit it Layla helps them out bc she and Elsa are the same size and that's how Elsa and Layla end up with lots of matching clothes

It's like an extended cast version of Three's Company (sitcom from around 1980 if you're not familiar), but without the homophobia

Sometimes something just looks So Good on Layla and she likes it so she buys one for herself and one for Elsa

Layla: Jack, I know that's Elsa's because I have the same shirt.

Jack: 👀

Out of convenience and wanting to travel light, the three expect to borrow each other's clothes… too much. So they run out of stuff to wear on a mission.

OK, this is getting really silly now

and to come full circle, Jack rarely steals something of Marc's and that's usually by accident bc Marc gave it to him post full moon shenanigans so he's not naked/cold

Jack would not admit it but he likes Marc's white hoodie the most bc it's very soft

and it smells like his friend

he makes "sweater paws" with it yes the familiar smell is def a comfort

[Omitted because I can't find it 😢 : an image of a small and fluffy white dog whose hair is sticking straight out in all directions due to static electricity.]

Jack after being shrunk by a witch's spell (it'll wear off eventually) and being scared by Stony for the 1000th time

his hair will never be the same again imagine Elsa putting tiny Jack in a terrarium or one of those giant doll-houses

tiny Jack growls ferociously and adorably.

He's an ankle-biter and Kenough ankle-nibbler I'm laughing and crying over here

his tiny jaws aren't even strong enough to leave a lasting mark his struggles are adorable to watch tho

I hated the dollhouse my mom tried to get me into when I was a little girl. She tried her best and had good intentions, but we're very different people. She enjoyed putting together these splintery bits of wood to make tiny furniture, then sand them.

I wanted to get back to putting Barbie's black boots on Chewbacca to make him super tall and beating up Darth Vader and Barbie.

it wouldn't take Jack too long to give up and curl into an adorable ball of sulkiness.

Ted would scoop him up, scold Elsa, and take him away until the spell wore off. He wouldn't let Stony near. he can't have his BFF having a total breakdown. ❤️

oh yeah Ted is definitely not risking Stony getting near tiny Jack

Seriously, I have vivid memories of playing with those OG Star Wars figures.

I lost Luke's lightsaber pretty quickly and was sad. He and his dad had to take turns with dad's.

he could actually get eaten like that

I think at this point Stony wouldn't eat him, but best to play it safe

Stony can still be a lil shit tbh, he'd try it just for sport

omg, tiny Jack with a huge salmon steak bad Stony! Bad! No pukwudgies for you!

Jack just slamming his face in the jar of salmon paste

Marc: I thought it was bad enough when you were regular sized but this is something else

I once volunteered at a ferret rescue.

You haven't lived until you've seen eight baby ferrets with unopened eyes placed around a paper plate with some sort of meat-based soft food. They were fuzzy little worms of nomming eating their way to the center.

Just like tiny Jack would be.

Jack wonders "What did I do to deserve this? And why have things gotten so weird all of the sudden?"

That's what you get for being soft and lovable, my guy and now pocket-sized

Also your ferret mention now got me thinking of Jack tipping over into the jar of salmon paste and just goes "oh well" and starts munching into it Looney Tunes style

Someone later finds the empty jar with a sleepy Jack in it

He's being responsible. Cleaning up after himself until the food coma hits

Elsa tries to make him a purse dog and fails because Jack is a miniature whirling dervish of nails and teeth.

Elsa went from monster hunter to monster gatherer

collect them all! I'd say this is going full circle, but it's mostly spiraling into higher levels of absurdity

How else would we reach "pocket werewolf" territory? I just imagine Jake yeeting pocket werewolf Jack at someone "wolf be upon ye"

He so would! but "wolf be upon ye" (upon yeet?) in Spanish

Tiny jack running in circles around everyone's feet because he wants to go on the mission and help his pack

careful, you'll get squashed

everyone is very careful not to step on tiny wolf jack

Jack: I wanna help Marc: (takes him and puts him in his shirt pocket) there, keep watch Jack: takes his watch duty very seriously (and adorably) just imagine his tiny howl of alarm everyone is momentarily distracted by how cute it is and then they see the danger everyone: Aww!

Someone tries to pick Marc's pockets and get a surprise bite from Jack

The thief yanks his hand back and Marc punches him in the face. Then he holds up still-snarling Jack. "My li'l buddy here's a werewolf, so see ya at the next full moon, pal."

Thief: wets himself

(but it's okay because Jack can't infect others with lycanthropy in my headcanon) The thief doesn't know that tho, so he's freaking out The thief chains himself up for the full moon and is like WTF when nothing happens

but relieved and pissed at Marc and Jack

That sounds like a backstory for a new MK villain It's like MK crossed with Venture Brothers. "I'm gonna find that tiny werewolf if it's the last thing I do!"

Joke's on him, the werewolf is no longer tiny.

The guy's going to monster bars asking about tiny werewolves and getting weird looks. He's thrown out on his ear.

The gang is in there. Maybe Marc is elsewhere at the moment.

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

Stay tuned for part V next week. There's more Tiny Jack Adventures to come!

Stonyverse short fics

“Of blood and stone” by Vi

 “Something Awful This Way Comes” (ao3 link) by me

"In which the Bloodstone is a little shit" by Vi

"The Only One Left" by Vi (no silliness in this one)

[ddwardiswriting]

Chapter Four: The Suitors

I made my way through the halls of castle Octavian. My Uncle had the hall decorated in gold and red, the colors of House Octavian. Shields hung adorned with red and gold counterchanged hunting dogs. This was the symbol of the House. The carpet was a rich crimson. The air smelled of a riot of perfumes, body odor, alcohol, and talc. People were wandering towards the great hall. I caught snippets of conversation as I moved through the crowd.

“I invoked my precognition gift on this party. But all I could see was that somebody gets slapped.”

“The alchemist delivered your little blue pills this morning, so you’d better not eat too much. I expect you to be ready for the after party!”

“I made an offering to the Quintuple Lords of Misfortune. We should have protection against bad luck in this venture.”

“Did you hear about the attack last night? Something mauled a blacksmith at his forge last night, before dawn. The guards suspect either a werewolf or a barghest. But last night wasn’t a full moon, so it would have to have been a hereditary werewolf.”

“I heard that Duke Leon’s ship, the Verity, saw action yesterday. They chased a suspected smuggling vessel, but the vessel escaped using a fog potion.”

“Helen, we need more canape in the grand hall. Get some from the kitchen.”

I listened with interest. Moonlight Hearts took place in a fantasy world. But except for alchemy and werewolves, the fantasy had seemed like window dressing. But now, I lived in this world. And understanding how the magic and the supernatural worked would be important. It would matter how it affected my day to day. Lynn had described the setting as low magic or low fantasy. I wasn’t sure I agreed.

I’d listened to a conversation about the alchemical version of Viagra. I'd heard somebody describe a fantasy smoke grenade. That sounded pretty high fantasy to me. Werewolves skirted the line in my mind. And offerings to gods or what not seemed pretty normal for low fantasy. 

I reached the top of the grand staircase and stopped. What was I going to do? Trapped in a video game, what could I do? I’d decided to be the best friend. But what did that mean? To me it meant supporting the heroine and helping her get what she wanted. Whatever that was. So what was I going to do? I decided that I’d best start by getting to know the suitors, that was the purpose of the game after all, marrying a suitor. I knew the four of them well enough. But unlike when I played the game, now I had to actually interact with them, not simply select canned responses provided by the game’s writers. That would be a challenge. So that was my goal for the moment, meet the suitors and get a sense of them as people and not game assets.

I paused to look down on the great hall. The walls were the color of heavy cream. Wall hangings in gold and red accented the cream color. The families of House Octavian lived on the Castle estate. My uncle, Baron Giles, was lord of the house. Membership in the house granted people benefits. It granted a place in Castle Octavian and the surrounding manor. I looked out over the assembled people. I could see my father, Lord Jean Octavian, speaking with my mother, Lady Evelyn. I could also see the suitors for the game. They stood talking with each other, amidst the families. 

Prince Wulfric had his hand on a court sword as they spoke. He was the only noble wearing a weapon, I noticed. He wore black riding boots of some sort, although I couldn’t see details at this distance. He wore a ring on his right pinky, which I suspected was a signet ring. He was attractive if you liked violent bad boys. He wore a goatee and kept his long dark hair hanging loose. He wore a monocle, despite being far too young to pull off the effect. He grinned like a predator and leaned forward like a vulture. But he had the mass of a bodybuilder and filled out his breeches and tailcoat. Men weren’t my thing, but I could tell when one was good looking. Lynn would have called him a lumbersexual. 

Beside the prince stood a thin muscular man in a Hyperborean army dress uniform. The second man wore a saber at his hip. He had a drooping handlebar mustache. He had shaved his skull completely bald, exposing tattoos on his temples. He wasn’t one of the suitors. I didn’t recognize him. 

Duke Leon Delmar stood a full head above the others. His skin had acquired a deep tan and he wore his blonde hair long and tied back in a braid. He wore the blue uniform of the Yssian Navy and black riding boots. He also wore a ring on his pinky, and I noticed stud earrings with some sort of clear gem mounted. I noted a startling number of awards on the uniform. And I found myself wondering if the duke had earned those medals. As a member of the royal family, he might have awarded them to himself. He looked like a gymnast who worked as a lifeguard. And his features were those of a Greek God.  

Count Vincent Metternich was the shortest of the men. From this distance, I guessed he was shorter than I was. I thought he was five foot ten. He was a dark-skinned man, with black curly hair kept long in beach waves. He wore a black Spencer jacket. He wore this rather than the traditional tailcoat of the Agarthan nobility. He paired the Spencer jacket with white trousers. He wore black leather hunting boots that fit under the trousers. He wore silver earrings that were either stud or huggie style. Vincent was the closest the game came to a character who was average in appearance. And even here, the Count was still attractive, with an aquiline nose and high cheekbones. 

Countess Fiona Myrddhin stood a little shorter than Amy. I guessed her height to be between five foot and five foot three. She wore a lapis lazuli blue sleeveless gown with a pair of cool pink four-inch stiletto sandals. The gown had a dramatic plunging neckline. She wore a matching cool pink sash across her hip, bound with a gold cylindrical ornament. I stared. I knew what Fiona Myrddhin looked like, but now I was seeing her in person. Her father was Yssian nobility, but her mother was Scythian royalty. Her Scythian heritage was clear on her darker skin and black hair. She wore cool pink lipstick and dark purple smokey eyeshadow. Her skin was beautiful, and her décolletage was stunning. Her body was a symphony of swooping arcs and curves. She was stunning with her graceful neck and shoulders. From the scandalous low neckline on her dress down to hips on display due to her form fitting dress. She wore a gold choker necklace and white opera gloves which accented the dress. 

“You’re staring,” Somebody whispered behind me. I turned to see Amy walk past me down the staircase with a tray of drinks. I blushed again and shook my head. This is what happens in a world populated by characters instead of real people. Everyone here was attractive or- more often- beautiful. That’s what game designers like. I knew from experience watching the game. The only plain or ugly people were either villains or comic relief. This upset me, but it was also useful. For instance: Mildred, my mother’s personal maid looked like a bulldog sucking on a lemon. Mildred was the oldest and most senior of the maids. She was not in charge on paper. But in practice, she was in charge of the female staff in Castle Octavian. I watched her smack the back of Amy’s head, and gritted my teeth as Amy flinched. I’d reprimand Mildred, but it would do no good. As my mother's private maid, she answered to mother first. And mother outranked me. I was higher in the line of succession, but she was still my mother. Or rather, she was still the rival’s mother.

I saw the rival’s two sisters. They were the nice ones: Catherine and Katarina. I was the evil stepsister in this story, even though I was a cousin. I would hesitate before calling them smart. In the game they were walking talking valley girl stereotypes. But they provided useful gossip to the heroine. Catherine wore a sapphire blue mermaid tail gown with terrifying pump heels. She had her strawberry blonde hair in a perm that screamed to the eighties. Katarina wore a cranberry red A-line evening gown. He had paired that with white sling-back heels as tall as her sisters. Both stood at least five foot nine inches, with the heels they cleared six feet.

The heroine wasn’t here yet. Which I guess made sense. In the game all the main characters were present when the player arrived at this scene. I began descending the staircase. I took my time and ran over what I knew about each of the suitors. The two big fish of the lot were Prince Wulfric and Duke Leon. 

Wulfric was the eldest son of King Hardrada of Hyperborea and first in line for the throne. He was infamous among the nobility of the region for being a sadist and a bully. He’d been engaged once already, to an Agarthan duchess, but she had died in a carriage accident. People had whispered about the accident being a lie to cover up the prince’s misdeeds. People whispered that he liked to strike servants and commoners on a whim. People said he had killed five nobles in duels. 

Leon was a duke, and younger brother by fifteen years to the current King of Ys: Godwin Delmar III. Like Prince Wulfric, he was royalty. Unlike Wulfric, his power outside his own duchy counted for very little. Ys was a constitutional monarchy, administered by the house of lords. The King was a figurehead. The dukes ruled through the house of lords. Within their own duchy, a duke’s power was absolute. Outside it, they had little more than their wealth. But Leon was also commander of the Royal Navy. And he was duke of the duchy where our castle resided. So that would weigh on the calculations. By all accounts he was also a sweet guy. And I knew from watching Lynn, that Leon was the nicest of the four by a wide margin. 

Vincent was a count and Fiona was a countess, making them equal in status. Vincent being a foreign noble meant that he was useful for alliance building. The heroine’s father was a baron, lower rank than a prince or duke, but higher than a count or countess. But taking Vincent for an alliance with Agartha held strong attraction. Agartha was the only nation in the region able to match the strength of Hyperborea. Fiona’s big selling feature, aside from being stunning, was that her county capital. Myrddhin City was the busiest port in the Boro Sea. Ships from Hyperborea resupplied in the port of Myrddhin City. They then headed south to Agartha. And Agarthan ships did likewise as they sailed north to Hyperborea. 

So, to recap, Wulfric had the highest position in the aristocracy but was an abusive monster. Leon was royalty in a kingdom where royalty didn’t matter much, but ruled the region where we actually lived. Vincent would allow for an alliance with a foreign nation and had the advantage of not being Wulfric. And Fiona controlled the richest port city in the region, but was otherwise small fry. 

I reached the floor and considered my options. 

If I was going to be honest with myself, the idea of trying to court Fiona appealed to me a lot. She was a noble and I was, now, a noble. The match was acceptable, and might be the only way I could escape marrying a man. And since I might be stuck here for who knows how long, I didn’t want a life trapped in a living hell. Fiona was something of an ice queen in the game. She seemed to have trouble talking to people. She could be blunt and hurt people without realizing she had. And I wasn’t sure that I had the social skills to romance her in unscripted real life. Listen to me. Real life? This?

What was I going to do? Well, first things first, I was going to meet the suitors. Then I was going to become my new cousin’s best friend. I would support her quest for whichever suitor she wanted. I would help her get her dream and stop the game from killing me in the process. Unless she wanted Fiona. Maybe. I didn’t know yet. 

- - -

By DD Ward and Margaret Lovelace

ddwardiswriting.blogspot.com