#but i LIKE nice clothing

[labyrynth]

i find dishes to be the more sisyphean task than laundry but. your tags. just kept going. and i was so completely enraptured. I've never met someone who hates laundry as passionately as i hate dishes. you almost convinced me to vote laundry instead of dishes because your tales of woe completely swept me away before i realized I'd already voted. you're still wrong, but i just want you to know that your words are utterly compelling.

i’m glad that my plight managed to bring you some amusement :’)

[canisalbus]

[sysig]

Permission to headbutt: Granted (Patreon)

[alibonbonn]

Sketch of a smoking Claudia. She’s going thru a lot, she deserves it, she looks so good in it

[hinamie]

obligatory water tribe alt outfits so i am not held liable if they freeze

jjk atla!au with @philosophiums

[itsmebeff]

they're going to a formal event

the queen and her weird ugly partner

[conscydraws]

My first 15 hours in Death Stranding

[cypryus]

Saw this man and went 👀

Crow belongs to @itsxroxannex

[orukkart]

wake up, sweetheart

it was just a nightmare.

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

had to fix one thing, sorry for multiple posting!

[nashvillethotchicken]

A lot of people in the iwtv Fandom regurgitate antiblack talking points particularly wrt Louis being femme/effeminate/gnc and it's genuinely so disgusting like no, Louis is not making his partners engage in domestic labor when they participate in the businesses and investments they are partial owners of. No, Louis is not being the patriarch of rue royale when lestat leaves the house after beating Louis within an inch of his life. No Louis is not "masculine for his culture" especially when compared to other black men in the same time period. People will actively ignore canon to make Louis into this hypermasculine black brute and Lestatr or armand into these shrinking violets that are oppressed by Louis when he's not that at all. The only times he's ever acted even close to that stereotype is to assimilate into a white supremacist society that expected that of him in order for him to earn a living and to please Armand, which causes him great distress and visibly worsens his mental health to the point of Louis lashing out at Claudia and being so entirely numb that he self harms. Louis is not this hypermasculine black brute and a lot of people try to make him into one bc of unconscious bias surrounding black people (black people have been stereotyped as hypermasculine, angry, overly violent and sexual deviants since the 1700s) or to absolve their non black favs of the actual patriarchal and oppressive violence they enact on Louis and Claudia or a combination of the two. It's disgusting, do better

[mewniemoon]

Coming back from thy break with an ookie spookie eye straining Narinder :)

color palette used:

[qrowscant]

i wanted a machine guts sweater/shirt so here are some color tests

[shittyutmv]

After the washing machine is done we should hang Ink in a cloth tender so he properly dries

there you go . i’m leaving him up there for another 16 years btw pt. 1 pt. 2 pt. 3

ink by comyet/myebi

[satoumafuyuss]

two EXTREMELY clingy mimirs 💤

[rrredgi]

Drew the mugiwara crew in my outfits because I can and because I miss going out dressed pretty

pose referenced from random fashion photoshoots from pinterest

[nonsensenook]

Chapter 2 | Coarse Sands, Red Blood

Synopsis: It was unfortunate timing to get kidnapped mid-argument with the Destined One. A continuation from the first chapter of this take on you, the reader, accompanying the Destined One on his journey.

Word Count: 4,112

Warnings: Violence, Mature Content (Heavily Implied)

Author's Note: This was a fun chapter. Thank you for all the support and kindness you've given the last chapter. I hope you enjoy!

Read on AO3: Link Ch. 1 - Ch. 3 - 3.5 (Optional) - Ch. 4

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Getting into an argument with a silent participant was by far the most testing part of the journey. You wanted to believe you had adapted enough to be a true companion rather than an extra-carry on, but the time your companion’s wasted fussing over you made you feel more like a disobedient, sickly child. 

At first you could forgive him. You had sustained an injury from a Yaoguai mid-foraging while The Destined One was resting. He hadn’t heard or sensed this one hiding when he had scouted the area. Your cry of pain alerted him, he quickly killed the Yaoguai before looking at your wound. The injury you were given on your arm wasn’t deep, but the way the blood was soaking your clothing had him make a new expression you hadn’t seen before. He was careful when he bandaged you up, every small sound you made when the wound stung would have him freeze midway.

You couldn’t heal as quickly as he could. The drink he’d given you lightened the pain, but the wound still stayed. Since then, he refuses to eat until he is satisfied with the amount that you’ve eaten. The worst of this was when he wouldn’t let you help him out in any way other than advising, not even to dust off sand from your equipment. He would silently urge you to only rest while he took care of any and all preparation that was needed. He no longer lets you out of his sight. Things escalated when he couldn’t take the hint that some more private moments couldn’t be shared. Despite the rising tensions and silent exchanges of meaningful looks, you still managed to find yourself waking up next to him. This only added to your aggravation. 

Your wound had long since closed, leaving a scar as a reminder. You know he was doing what he could and what he understood as protecting you. But it only reignited the feeling that you were a helpless human taking up the time of someone with a greater role to play. You tried to convey that you didn’t need to be pampered to this extent. He would take one look at your arm and your efforts would fall on deaf ears. 

This time, you were safely stowed away in an abandoned house near a bridge when he went off to fight another powerful Yaoguai. He’d left you frustrated, still ignoring your pleas for him to focus some energy on himself rather than you or this journey. You worried over how he hadn’t been eating or letting himself consistently rest lately. You didn’t know how he could fight while exhausted. Anxiety gripped you as you remembered how tricky this particular opponent was. 

You simmered in your worry till a cry of pain from him shot you with dread. You left your hiding place to peek out, watching his fight. You saw the Destined One get knocked back from a blow. He recovered, wiping away blood with the back of his hand. He began charging for an attack. It was a reckless charge, one that was punished before he could even land a hit. His moves were sloppy and poorly timed. You could only watch in horror as he suffered blow after blow. He was fighting distracted. As distracted as you were when someone gagged and bound you from behind. You were thrown over a shoulder and stolen from the fight. The last thing you saw before something covered your head was the Destined One on the ground, breathing heavily, covered in his own blood. 

~

You were transported well away from your companion. Your kicking and thrashing awarded you with arms bound to your ankles, but at least one bruised captor. Your ears picked up hushed voices, feet on sand, then wood, then solid ground. Eventually you heard many voices colliding in an argument and the loud crackling of a large fire. 

“This is the human monk said to grant us immortality?” One voice questioned, tone thick with doubt. 

“It does not dress like a monk nor act like one, my bruised back can attest to that!” Added another voice. 

“We already told you, this is not the same monkey!”

“How many monkeys with a staff traveling with a human have you witnessed?” 

Someone pulled the sack off of your head. Blinking in the fading light of dusk, you found yourself kneeling, surrounded by rat yaoguais of different shapes and sizes. Behind you was an abandoned sentry point. A rat guai was stationed right next to you with a large ax handle peeking from his back. In the distance you saw archers watching the entrance ways to this little camp. A bonfire roared at the very center, a fire larger than needed for any ordinary game. You swallowed beneath the cloth that covered your mouth. 

“Does this look like a virtuous monk to you?” One rat guai with a missing ear asked, pointing to you contemptuously. 

Another rat with a missing eye sneered,“How would you know what virtue looks like, you filthy adulterer?” 

A fist connected with a whiskered face. The two rat guais fell into the dirt punching, clawing, and biting. The others around the camp egged them on with fists in the air. You heard some taking bets as drunken laughter mixed in with jeers from the crowd. Your guard was yelling his own insults right next to you. You took the moment to test your bindings, frustrated to find them much too thick to tear and too tight to slip out of. 

You thought of your silent companion, fighting the rising fear that came from the last image you saw of him bleeding on the ground. You weren’t sure what dying meant to him in this world. You have yet to witness him fail to confirm anything. If he were to fall in battle would the shrines hold and restore his soul and body? Are the rules different, and if so in what way? What does death mean for the Destined One? You shook your head, forcefully ridding yourself of these thoughts. You knew just how stubborn that monkey is. He would not fall. You needed to breathe. You needed to focus. 

Escaping unnoticed was a tall, improbable order. You had a lone guard keeping an eye on you and the archers positioned around the camp wouldn’t let you get that far. You had to make a chance. An idea struck you. It was risky, but when was any plan worth trying not? 

The two fighting rat guais in front of you were still rolling in the dirt. The one eyed rat guai then pinned the other down with his knee, forcing its jaws open before spitting into its mouth. The camp erupted into a roar of approval, the winner was awarded with a passed drink. You groaned in disgust. 

“Whether or not the human grants immortality, we’d enjoy a fine feast of a rare game either way!” Cried out the one eyed rat guai. Hearty cheers of agreement rang out. You began wiggling against your constraints, speaking beneath your bondage. The rat guai behind you took notice, signaling the winner of the bout over. The rat guai, the leader you assumed, gave the signal to unbind your mouth. You breathed just a little easier. Taking a deep breath, you cleared your throat. 

“You cannot eat me,” you said, hoping your voice held an ominous tone, “The homewrecker there is right. I was to be a sacrifice to a spurned Yaoguai. My flesh does not grant immortality, but a curse.” 

Several rats exclaimed in surprise, conversations and cries of disgust spread through the group. The leader stepped close, bending down until he was looking you right in the eyes. The rank smell of alcohol and old wounds hit you. His face was covered in old scars, a part of his upper snout was missing, his one red eye watched you unblinking. You showed nothing on your face. 

“A clever lie,” he snarled, “You’re a long ways from a sacrificial altar.” 

“The monkey I travel with interrupted the ceremony and stole me away. But not before the Yaogaui placed its mark on me.” You turned your arm to him. The leader ripped off your sleeve to reveal your healing scar. The dancing firelight illuminated the worst of its features. Many gasped as several took steps back from you. Your tale made your ordinary scar into a mark of warning; you were tainted meat. The leader looked closely at your scar, you hope the expression you saw momentarily was one of hesitation. A voice spoke up from the group, making the leader turn from you.

“I told you, this wasn’t the right human,” the defeated rat from before pointed to the leader.“Would you have us feast on cursed flesh?” Cries of agreement rose from the crowd. Sides were being taken. With the possibility of a cursed meal being on the line the tensions were higher than before. 

The rat guarding you raised a question, “How do we know eating them won’t kill us?” Fear rippled through the group in waves. Some wanted you alive to be consumed, fixated on the potential of immortality. Others wanted you dead, the thought of the curse enough for them to be rid of you. Some were already done with this ordeal, ready to set you off on your way. No one could agree on what to do with you. You saw one rat push another one as debates became arguments. This was it. If one were to pick up a weapon then the rest would follow for sure. They’d tear each other apart. You could find an escape amidst the chaos.

You saw a flash of iron. Someone had picked up a sword. Anticipation turned to cold fear when you saw it slice through the air to point at you. 

“Enough!” The leader shouted above the arguing. All beady eyes turned to look at you at the pointed end of a sword. 

“Vile thing,” he spat out, angling the edge of his weapon to your throat, “full of lies and deceit. I will prove it to you, brothers. I will take a bite right on that very mark.” 

What an absolutely spectacular way for your plan to have backfired. You started moving back only to be pinned down by the rat guai behind you. Your struggles were nothing in his tight grip. Panic sent your heart into your throat. 

“Your limbs will rot off your bones, you will wish for a quick death!” You cried, but even to your ears it sounded too desperate and pitifully unconvincing. 

Your arms were chafing as you helplessly wrestled against your constraints. He opened his jaws, wide enough to take both your arm and shoulder. You saw his yellowed teeth dripping with saliva. In one quick movement, he bit down. You cried out, bracing yourself for the pain of torn flesh. It never came. 

In between the jaws of the rat leader was the end of a staff. You saw broken teeth shatter as gums oozed with blood. The rat leader was forcefully pushed back, howling in pain. The staff was then flipped before smashing against the hand that was pinning you down. The Destined One kicked the rat guard aside, dropping down from the sentry building. A protective arm shielded you while the other corrected the position of his staff. 

Relief flooded you like a newfound spring. He had been alright. He had survived his fight. He had made it to you. He spun his staff slowly, readying himself. Someone gave a battle cry. The Young Sage leapt forward.

The sloppy movements you saw earlier weren’t being seen here. He was precise yet viciously ruthless. He was tearing them apart, executing them in ways you hadn’t seen before. Jaws were being broken, bodies of rat guais were being used as shields against archers, you watched as he kicked a rat into someone else’s drawn weapon before executing them both with a blow from his staff. Their bodies dropped then disintegrated one after the other. 

He’d killed them all save for one. When he dashed to the last enemy. You finally saw his face illuminated by the firelight. Fangs bared, eyes blazing, his expression was carved into unfiltered fury. You watched as he launched himself upwards, silhouetted by the moon, he spun three times in the air with the last spin having him crash his staff down on the final rat, shattering its skull. Not even a moment before the last enemy was defeated his head flicked to you. In several quick strides he was at your side, tearing apart your restraints with his teeth. 

Unbound, your arms immediately found their way around his neck as they’ve done so many times before. Only this time, you weren’t asleep. A sob bubbled up from your throat as you buried your head into his shoulder. The terror of your life being at the end of rat guais tearing at your body was finally allowed to settle in your heart. Just above your fear, you felt elation. You were overjoyed to see him again, alive and safe. You let him go to look him over. 

“Are you alright?” You asked, tears flowing freely down your face. “Were you injured? Have you rested at a shrine?” Your hands went to his body, eyes scanning for any injuries. You were interrupted by him pulling you into a tight embrace. As you buried your face into his chest you heard him let out a long, relieved sigh which shook his frame. 

~

The moon was high as he carried you back to camp in his arms. It took a long time for him to be satisfied from inspecting you, especially with your sleeve torn and wound exposed. You didn’t object when he swept you off your feet. The whole ordeal left you completely exhausted. As he carried you, you recounted what happened with the rats to him. He seemed amused at the made up tale you fed the rats. He particularly liked the part where you said he’d taken you from an altar of sacrifice. 

“You did just steal me from a feast starring my immortal and or cursed flesh,” you said mischievously. “Who can say what I told was a complete lie?” That got a nice smile from him. 

The nights in this barren valley were quick to become cold. Brisk winds sent a shiver through you. The Destined One pulled you a bit closer to him. The waxing moon was high, you listened to the sounds of disturbed sand. In the distance, you heard the call of an owl. 

“On that bridge, when you were fighting that Acolyte,” you began, listening to his steady, rhythmic steps, “you weren’t fighting the way you usually do.” The Destined One kept his gaze forward. Realizing what you knew now made you want to cup his cheek to have him look at you. You touched your torn sleeve instead. 

“I saw what worrying about me did to you-how it,” you hesitated, “distracted you.” The Destined One’s pace didn’t falter, but from the corner of your eye you saw his tail flicking nervously behind him. 

“On any other day I would’ve scolded you, but today I don’t want to be a pot and reduce you to a kettle. If I hadn’t left the place I was hiding this may not have happened,” you took a breath, “But I was afraid…for you.” The Destined One gave you a look that made you want to roll your eyes. 

“Yes, I know of all creatures I could worry about, you should be the last of them. I know how strong you are and you’ve proven your might more than enough times but you’re not-you’re-” you steadied yourself, focusing on the way his hands tightened ever so slightly. 

You continued,“I don’t know what would happen if you were to fall in battle and I never wish to. It’s not that I believe someone as strong as you would, but the possibility of it alone terrifies me.” 

You sighed, letting out a hollow laugh, “That must be what you’ve been feeling all this time since I got hurt and why you started to treat me like a porcelain egg.” The Destined One looked at you. You watched his expression flash from concern to something closer to understanding. 

“I can promise you I won’t be doing something that foolish again. Can you promise to stop thinking the next gust of wind would shatter me?” You asked, hand nervously playing with your torn sleeve. 

The young monkey took a moment to think about it. You waited while contemplating flicking him on the head if he disagreed. Luckily for him, he did agree by giving you a nod. You smiled at him, pleased. You saw his eyes flick down to your lips. It was so fast you almost didn’t catch it. You didn’t have time to wonder if you imagined it either because in the next moment The Destined One tripped. He reacted quickly, finding his balance again as you clung to his robe. Then he straightened up and continued walking like nothing happened. 

You pressed your lips together, failing to suppress a chuckle that escaped you. You looked at your companion, seeing his fur bristle. His usual poker face simply added to the moment. He watched as you laughed, careful with his steps as he returned you to the camp. 

~

The night air had turned frigid. You warmed your hands by the fire then cupped your face to spread the warmth. It doubled as an excuse to hide your expression. With a night like this you knew you’d wake up in his arms again in the morning after your body moves on its own. A thought that filled you with mixed excitement and dread. Since the two of you had returned, you couldn’t stop thinking about what you saw while he carried you back. Your thoughts were a storm raging behind your eyes. 

You looked at your companion on the other side of the fire. The Destined One was as collected as ever, patiently mending your torn sleeve. He truly seemed fully unconcerned, content even. This made you feel even more irritated. 

You wrapped your arms around yourself, the large sleeves extending past your hands. A consequence from him not letting you lift a finger for any task, including washing clothing, was that you had nothing to wear. He’d lent you one of  his robes while he made the needed repairs. The one you were wearing had scarcely been used since he’d upgraded his armor. Even still, you could smell him on you. This thought had you cover your face again in frustration. You’ve had enough of this. 

You got up from the fire and made your way over to the Young Sage. He didn’t glance up from his task. It wasn’t unusual for you to sit next to him to talk or watch his work. You scooted closer till your legs were touching. Again, he was unperturbed. You frowned at his lack of reaction, he was much too accustomed to your proximity. You froze. Realization hitting you like a nice forceful push off a cliff. 

You revisited the mornings, countless mornings where the two of you were intertwined. You remembered nights where you would purposely try to sleep further away from him only to still wake up in his arms, flustered. You knew he was aware of you seeking him out in the night. He never did anything to stop you. No, it wasn't just that he never did anything to stop you.

The final piece slotted into place. A sly smile crept on your lips. You propped your arm onto your knee, chin resting on your hand. 

“I don’t think we’ve been honest with each other,” you said. You didn’t need to do much observation to know he’s listening. He’s always listening to you, even if his obedience could be called into question. 

“Back at the beginning of this journey, when I had joined you, there was this particularly cold night.” You watched him closely. He continued to work, but you noticed the slightest twitch of his fingers. You continued, “I remembered waking up on top of you. I crawled to you in my sleep. I didn’t mean to do it that time or all the times afterwards. I figured you were politely ignoring it for my sake.” 

The Destined one continued his task, though his tail began flicking in that nervous way it does again. You didn’t let yourself take a moment to be cautious or hesitate. Before doubt takes a hold of you, you have to keep going or else this cycle will start again. You sat up, arms crossing in front of you. 

“How many times did I go to you before you started coming to me?” 

The Young Sage froze. You saw him take a moment to think. Then he held up four digits. You flushed. Even though you were the one who asked, finally having him acknowledge it made you feel embarrassed. You shoved the feeling aside. 

“Were you worried I was cold?” You asked. He nodded, continuing where he left off with his task. You swallowed, “Was it only because you thought I was cold?” 

He paused again. You waited. Your heart was thundering in your chest so loud it echoed in your ears. You could no longer hear the crackling of the fire. Truly, this silent monkey makes you wait several eternities for every answer. Finally, the Destined One shook his head. He put down the garment and turned to look at you. You opened and closed your mouth, stuck with finding what else to say now that you had his full attention. He looked at your lips again. This time, he made sure you knew where he was looking. The two of you were moving closer together. Inches apart, you looked into his eyes. Always so kind, always so patient. But now you saw something else, something he'd been keeping well hidden. 

“This whole time,” you said, voice lowered to almost a whisper, “I thought I was imagining things.” The Destined One’s eyes were half-lidded, waiting-expecting. He was less than an inch away. The sound of your heart was deafening. You asked your last question, “Am I still imagining things?” 

Your lips met his. A gentle kiss full of nerves and hesitation. You weren’t sure who had leaned in first, it was too close to tell. Your hands clutched at his robe, the kiss deepened. His other hand cupped your face as you pulled him closer to you. He was warm and tasted like the fruit you had for dinner. He felt like everything you had imagined countless times and more. 

You pulled back first, terrified of the prospect of your heart exploding. He leaned towards you again, chasing you. This kiss was deeper, needier. He pushed you down until your back touched the ground. His hands ran through your hair, lingered on your neck, then slid down your back. Each time he touched you, you felt his nails grazing your skin sending shivers through you. He wasn’t satisfied with just your lips. Hungry nips, bites, and licks went to your neck down towards your chest which was becoming exposed as his robe slipped down your frame. One of his hands held yours, pinning you down as you squirmed and twitched beneath him. The other continued to trail down your body. Your breathing was becoming heavy, you couldn’t control the sounds your throat was making. He was greedily consuming you. It was like he’d finally found a feast after months of famine. You let out a moan as he trailed his tongue down from your chest to your stomach. This made him grip your waist tightly, nails digging a bit too deep into your flesh. You cried out in surprise. Immediately, he lets go, reminded of your delicate human body. 

He made to move further back when you held onto his wrist. “I’m okay,” you said breathlessly. What a mess you must’ve looked: face flushed, hair in disarray, wearing his clothes, and sporting his marks. In his eyes you saw that it still held that same insatiable hunger. With your meager strength you pulled him back. This time, at your request, he didn’t stop. 

~

You woke up in his arms once again before the sun had barely broken through the horizon. You rubbed your eyes, shivering in the cold, quiet morning. The Destined One, well awake, pulled you back closer to him.