#if you are climbing in china and are not a mountaineer

[fuckyeahchinesefashion]

How cnetizens descending the mountain: many mountains in china are very high and steep, so going downhill tends to hurt the knees more than going up.

[autiebiographical]

Well, 2024 was certainly a year.

For my partner and I it was filled with mourning. My partner lost two grandparents and I lost my step-dad.

Losing my step-dad honestly broke me. A man who was a second father to me for 30 years. He passed away when I was in the final stages of editing my book so he never even got to see it. I know if he had he'd show it to anyone and everyone to the point he'd probably start annoying people.

"Look at what Theresa made! All those years of drawing and now they've published their own book! I'm so proud!"

You know the term "Pebbling"? The act of penguins giving each other pebbles to show affection. The neurodivergent community has kind of adopted it as giving a loved one a small token to show you they care. That's what I used to do with my step-dad when I was a kid! I didn't really know how to show him that I cared so I'd give him cool looking rocks!

He kept all those rocks. So many years passed and he kept those rocks. When I moved back to Canada from China my gift to him was a rock. It was a small rock from the mountain I had to climb to get to The Great Wall. He'd show it off to everyone.

Thanks for just letting me blather on. It's been over a month but I don't think I've fully processed his passing. I still half expect him to pick up the phone when I call.

Anyways, Happy New Years! Let's hope that 2025 isn't a disaster.

[semisolidmind]

what made bad end wukong fall in love with the reader?

she wasn't scared of him.

at least, not at first.

so i imagine that reader (who gets isekaid to ancient china with no memory of her past life) meets the monkeys back when they're still just funny lil troublemakers, fighting the celestial realm and causing mischief. perhaps one day, wukong is bored and decides to disguise himself as a normal monkey to mess with some village folk. knowing they'd all just run in fear from the monkey king, being a normal monkey gives him some leeway to get into more mischief with fewer consequences. macaque, ever his loyal shadow, goes along with him.

oddly enough, macaque meets her first.

perhaps he got more than he bargained for while stealing and got attacked by a dog whilst in normal monkey form. he (literally) runs into reader, who's returning from foraging in the forest. she saves him, much to his chagrin, picking him up and shooing away the dog. not wanting to ruin his cover, macaque keeps up his disguise. she'll just...bandage him up and let him go, and that'll be the end of it, right?

she takes him back to the house of the moderately wealthy family she's staying with (she's sorta a maid servant to pay for her lodging), setting him down gently on the small table in her quarters while she goes to get her medical supplies. he helps himself to some of the fruit from her basket while he waits. she comes back with strips of cloth and a bowl of water, along with some medicinal salves.

she speaks to him in gentle tones to coax him into coming closer, and macaque, who even in this form heals quickly, uses magic to slow his healing process. he's curious about what she'll do. whenever he flinches or spooks (playing the part of a scared monkey), she waits for him to come back to her, gently encouraging him and never raising her voice (which he appreciates immensely).

macaque, touch-starved nerd that he is, doesn't push her away. he realizes how easily he could just...turn back into his true form and scare her, ending this whole charade, but...he doesn't really want to. she's being very gentle with him, and he's enjoying it (not that he'll ever say it).

reader, once she's finished, scratches him softly, praising him for being a good patient. after that, she allows him to take more fruit, opens the door that leads out into the forest, and waves him goodbye as he goes. when macaque gets back to wukong, he...leaves some parts of his little sidetrack out. no need to bring trouble to her door when all she did was help him.

he continues to visit her in his normal monkey form, showing up when the family is away and hanging around reader while she does her chores. she talks to him, lets him climb on her shoulders, and feeds him whenever he visits. macaque is enjoying the attention, and soaks in the calm atmosphere that's often lacking on flower fruit mountain. he begins seriously considering revealing himself as a demon, if only to stop having to disguise himself.

macaque's dissapearances are interesting enough to get wukong's attention. where is his second-in-command going? what could be so interesting that he'd forgo pillaging and troublemaking?

wukong transforms into a fly to follow macaque. he's a bit confused when he arrives at the house, but quickly catches on when he sees a monkey that can only be macaque sitting with a young woman as she repairs a basket. oho, so his second has a crush, does he? that's hilarious! wukong takes a guess at what happened that day at the market during the time he and macaque split up. he wouldn't normally care if macaque wanted to hang around with a human, but this one seems interesting (if only because she seems so...average).

soooo, why not play this game too?

"Oh, hello there," reader says. "Are you this one's friend? Heard about the free food, I bet."

wukong shifts into the form of a normal monkey, playing the part and approaching cautiously, curiously. he sees macaque freeze at the sight of him, and he smirks. he isn't sure why mac wanted to keep this girl a secret, but he's gonna find out.

so, he jumps up on the porch beside reader. she greets him kindly.

"Yeah," wukong and macaque think simultaneously. "Something like that."

the evening goes fairly well considering. though macaque attempts to put himself between reader and wukong every chance he gets, the king makes an effort to get in his way whenever he can. he pretends at being another adorable, playful monkey; hanging off her shoulder, weaving in between her feet as she walks, stealing food...

yet she never gets angry at him, and that catches his attention. wukong's being annoying and terrible, and reader is taking everything in stride. she's more patient than he expected.

"Hah! I think I'm starting to get it." he laughs to himself.

meanwhile, macaque hasn't stopped glaring daggers at him the entire evening.

the monkeys leave later that night, sent off with a wave by reader. the monkey king confronts his general as they travel through the forest.

"So. When were you planning on telling me about her?" his tone seems casual, but there's a sinister undertone that immediately puts macaque on edge.

"Didn't think you'd care, to be honest," he attempts to keep his tone cool, but it's too late. wukong has already seen right through him.

macaque doesn't immediately share his friend's laughter. if he shows his true self to reader, he wants it to be on his terms, in a way that won't terrify her. he doesn't want to give up her company just because wukong wants a laugh.

"Y'know, I'm starting to like her," wukong muses.

"Maybe next time we can transform back and scare her." he cackles. "That'll be funny, won't it? See how she feels about having the Monkey King and his right hand man over for dinner!"

"Sure," macaque chuckles, attempting to hide his nervousness. he starts to plan on how he'll reveal himself, and how to do so without wukong's interference.

—

the next time he visits reader, she's sitting at her table having dinner. macaque watches from the treeline, wreathed in shadows. he left while wukong was having a meeting with some of the other generals, hoping that it'd buy him enough time to explain the situation to reader before wukong could notice him missing.

he isn't sure what the best way of approaching her would be. if he goes up to her now, as a demon, she might be scared and try to run. if he goes as a monkey and then turns into a demon before her eyes, the same. she's only ever known him as her little companion though, he reasons, so he may have to lead with that and hope she understands.

macaque prays that this isn't the end of their companionship.

he transforms into the monkey that reader recognizes, jumping out onto the porch and in through the open doorway. when he goes up to her, reader greets him kindly, as she always does.

"Hello there," she says. "I haven't seen you in a while, how have you been? Not getting into too much trouble, I hope?"

'You have no idea.' macaque thinks. he allows her to gently scratch him under his ears, leaning into it. he'd like to stay like this, but...he has to let her know.

so he backs away until he has enough space, takes a deep breath, and allows his form to change. he hears reader gasp softly as he grows and shifts, his clothing appearing as well. when he's finished, he raises his gaze to reader.

she's taken aback, pressed against the wall and staring at him with wide eyes. her breaths come a little quicker.

but she hasn't screamed. hasn't thrown her dishes at him or called for help. no, she just seems a bit stunned. perhaps she thinks he'll attack her if she moves.

he supposes he should introduce himself.

"My name is Macaque. The Six-Eared Macaque, to be precise." he sighs. he hangs his head slightly, closing his eyes.

"I apologize for tricking you, but after you helped me that day at the market I simply wanted to know more about you. I've come to value your company and hope that my true nature does not change your opinion of me." he finishes, raising his eyes and letting out a breath. he can feel heat in his cheeks, and he hopes his manners will cover how nervous he is.

reader says nothing for a moment. she's having a hard time processing, but she supposes she shouldn't be too surprised. demons disguise themselves in order to get close to humans all the time. she can only hope her little friend doesn't have a gruesome fate planned for her.

"I–" she stutters. "I suppose I should fix another plate, huh? Or do you prefer fruit in this form as well?"

a tense moment of silence passes.

and macaque can't help the laugh that bubbles forth.

this woman might be the death of him, he thinks.

"I wouldn't mind a plate, honestly," macaque says fondly through his laughter. "You have questions, I'm sure. I'll...I'll do my best to answer what I can."

the two spend a few hours talking. macaque tells reader about flower fruit mountain, keeping the true nature of his family and fellow soldiers vague. as much as he'd like to tell her everything, it'd only put her in danger. he especially can't tell her the truth about–

"Aw, you told her without me? And you didn't invite me to dinner? I'm hurt, bud."

macaque freezes. he and reader turn to look at the figure emerging from the darkness of the treeline, whose loose posture and languidly sweeping tail can't hide the menacing aura radiating off him. even reader can sense she's in the presence of something powerful, though the approaching demon has forgone his armor in favor of simple clothing. macaque notices that he'd hidden his tell-tale facial markings as well.

"I thought we agreed we'd tell her together?" the new demon muses as he steps into the room. he plops himself down at the end of the table, putting himself between reader and macaque.

"It's really not fair. You didn't even introduce me! Your best friend and brother! And here I thought you knew better," the ginger-haired monkey admonishes, sending a teasing look in macaque's direction. his dark haired companion glares back silently.

the way his king's personality brightens doesn't fool him for a moment.

"Who is–" reader starts.

"My name is Wukong!" he says jovially, taking her hands in his. "It's nice to be able to actually talk to you now! And here I was worried my brother's careless reveal would make you afraid. It's good to see that's not the case!"

reader takes a moment before the realization sets in. she can tell by macaque's tense posture and mannerisms that it'd be best if she treads lightly here.

"Are...Are you the monkey from last time? Would you like some dinner as well?"

Wukong smiles and nods. "Yes, yes I am! I'm glad you remember me. And I'd love to join you for dinner! Has brother told you about our home yet?"

—

macaque spends the rest of the evening walking on eggshells, waiting for the moment he'll have to jump in to save reader. but that moment never comes. wukong is acting like the perfect guest. he's being even more polite than when his fellow demon sovereigns visit, and they actually have power.

that's saying nothing of how utterly charming the monkey king is being, macaque thinks bitterly. he's been cracking jokes and flirting with reader, and it's working on getting her guard down. macaque is kicking himself for not mentioning how two-faced his "brother" can be earlier.

however...wukong hasn't shown any signs of annoyance or impatience. aside from a smug look whenever he gets reader to laugh, he hasn't given macaque any signal to drop the good guy act.

is he...is the monkey king not planning on hurting or scaring her? but...no. no, he must have some angle he's playing at. he's gotta be waiting for something, but what? for reader to say the wrong thing? for her to show some sign of "disrespect" that he can punish her for? why does wukong keep playing the respectful dinner guest after everything he's hinted at doing?

it's only after macaque really looks over at wukong does he get his answer.

the monkey king is listening intently to a story reader is telling, smiling softly and leaning toward her. his tail curls slowly, contentedly behind him. his eyes are focused entirely on reader, and macaque can see how dilated his pupils are as he watches her speak.

...what?

macaque can't believe it. there's no way.

does...does sun wukong have a crush?

his fear is confirmed when the king makes a comment on reader's story, making her laugh. wukong's smile, still horribly gentle, widens and his fur puffs up a little in happiness.

macaque feels dread pool in his stomach.

his dear mortal friend is in more danger than he thought.

[djtommotomlinson]

last november i was in china when my little brother called me and told me to come home. over summer my nan, my mums mum, had passed away before i had managed to get back to see her and my mum, my best friend in the world, had a heart attack soon after. i was with her then. we went to the funeral. she got better. we saw robbie williams live. we went out drinking and to the beach and watched coyote ugly and la la land together, our fave movies.

when my brother called me to tell me mum had cancer i knew it was bad. i lost my best friend to cancer when we were just 16 years old. thats never a good word. but its my mum. and to quote her days after her own mums death 'i always knew one day my mum would die but i never knew she would, like, actually die'.

i knew in the back of my head why i was going home but i didnt believe it. i watched spiderverse for like the third time on the plane. i went to grab my suitcase and laughed when i realised i was at the wrong shanghai - gatwick conveyor belt. who knew there were two at almost the same time.

then my brother, my baby brother, who is 30 next year but was 28 and always our baby brother, called me and my life is never ever going to be the same. i knew the moment he called. and i sat on the floor at gatwick airport shaking and people kept coming over to ask if i was okay and finally my sister and my aunties, my mums sisters, arrived and they were let into the baggage area when they explained and picked me off the floor.

i dont think this is a grief that has settled yet. i was meant to see louis that night. i havent listened to a song by him since despite his music getting me through some of my hardest times. my denial, she'll walk through the door and say this was all a joke, phase went on for months after we planned and executed a funeral and wake on the beach in malta. i made a great playlist, i wrote a great eulogy. i did that but it didnt properly sink in why.

i still, almost a full year on, wake up and think about messaging her to tell her how im feeling and check in on her.

my mum used to send me one direction news she found on facebook every day. harrys got a new album emmy did you know? and i was like no mum wow thank you (of course i already knew). she loved niall and we were going to see him live together. she wasnt a big fan of louis' music but ached for what he'd been through. i woke up the day after hearing about liam expecting a text from her checking in because she got me 1d tickets in 2014 for my 23rd birthday and she brought me merch and the dvd of the movie -

my mum who hated the beatles because they were too mainstream but loved what i loved because i loved it and was passionate about it. god she would have been crushed for me today. she would have been heart broken.

and i think this has hit me like a train not only because everyone who knows me knows how much i loved liam as if he was my own friend, but also because this past year has been so full of grief i dont always know how to get out of bed. my dads mum passed a few months ago. my family are wrecked with it. this past year has been a nightmare we can't get out of.

i always related to liam as someone who was bullied at school and as someone who suffers from mental illness and has suffered from alcoholism, thankfully, for me, something ive managed to come back from and im sober and i always hoped for that for him. its such a hard fucking mountain to climb and i didn't have to deal with the fame side of it and this whole other thing he had to carry. i always wanted him to get better but in the back of my head i had this feeling, i had this fear that i would one day log into tumblr and see the worst.

i still cant, and im sure for a long time won't, believe this real. thats one of my boys. we were very much meant to get old together. i wanted to see him get better. i cant begin to comprehend the fact he wont have that chance. this still doesnt feel real to me man. thats my boy.

just a few days ago I was in a convenience store and they were playing heart meets break and i was jamming and excited to hear my boy in a store. i keep remembering its happened, and i look at the photo on my bedside of me and my mum at the robbie williams concert and i could really do with her right now. a link to a facebook article and her over use of emojis - a shocked and crying face and a broken heart. because what else can express this?

i know i didnt know him but i always had the comfort of knowing of him, of listening to his music and watching his videos and feeling less alone in a cruel and lonely world.

its okay to be a fucking mess, if you can take time out please do. i wish this world allowed more of that. after my mum everyone had to go back to jobs and life and it still blows my mind that i was walking down the street then and today and everything was the same. the world should pause but it doesn't.

at the end of all of this, one day this might settle and make sense but right now it doesnt at all and thats how these things work. i love you all, this is not something i thought we would have to face until we had all grown old and spent all of our money on reunion tickets and seen our boys grow old and live their lives.

give people you love a hug, tell people you love that you care about them, work out problems and differences if you can and make the most of it. you never know how much time you have.

[papaver-decervicatus]

Cat/Mouse/Den: Pt. 2, Mus Rusticus

After months of tense flirting and teasing with the mountain of a man she only knows an König, Mouse finds herself in a life-or-death situation while on patrol in the Alps. Maybe her new admiration isn't as one-sided as she thinks…

CW: Obsession, stalking, canon typical violence, intrusive thoughts, unsanitary wound care

Authors Note: Wow! The response to this fic has been incredible, heartwarming, and just baffling to me! I cannot express how happy I am to share this with you all!

Being completely objective, this chapter requires some suspension of disbelief, the circumstance is not totally likely but alas, I am here for fun.

My college classes are starting up soon, so expect slower updates moving forward. As always, please feel free to leave a comment/reblog with a message saying you want to be added to the taglist or just interact in general!

Cura ut Veleas❣️~ Caedis

PREV | Pt. 2, Mus Rusticus | 4.1k words | Mouse POV | NEXT

He’s a vision, he’s hard to miss on the horizon, he stands out like a mountain lion against his fellow men. He sways his hips wide, the trusty Glock Field knife he keeps on his belt shines like a beacon. It’s such an outrageously cocky move, to keep glinting metal on his person when she’s sure he’s supposed to be stealthy. He’s tall as a tree and broad as a train and always has some hood covering his face. He’s sniper candy, he’s so obviously right there it makes her dig blunt nails into her arm in frustration. He’s hard to miss, should be her straight shot. 

But he never is. 

She never gets the barked orders, the confirmation. She’s asked a hundred times. When it’s in the forest, it’s less warfare and more stakeout. She’s not paid enough to know what she’s looking for, but she always sees him. And she’s always been told not to shoot. She stops asking at some point, but like everything else with this man, she doesn’t quite remember when. Her life is a blur of missions and off time and him and nothing else.

It’s been months since the ravine and she’s seen him just about everywhere she’s been. When SpecGru was gathering intel on KorTacs drug affiliations, she saw him in the haunted deserts of Sonora, Mexico where she lies in the dirt redder than blood and coyotes sing her to sleep. She gazes down at him atop crumbling 16th-century Byzantine marble when she picks off the guards of a weapons supplier in Belgrade, Serbia. In the ancient and verdant bamboo forest of Yibin, China, hunting down spy affiliations, she camps across a creek from him for a night. 

It’s a small world, but not quite small enough for her to believe just how they keep running into each other. No matter where she ends up, their eyes always meet. 

The eyes of the apparition with bloody tears on top of an executioner's hood always flick right towards her, even when she’s under a ghillie or some camo or nothing particularly obtrusive at all. She’s even taken off her scope once or twice to reduce glare, to see if the monster still turns her way then. To see if the cat is following a laser pointer she’s unwittingly putting out. 

He does.

Always finds her.

No matter what. 

He would’ve been a good sniper, in another life. If he wasn’t built like the trees she climbs for her shots. 

Very few things are constant in her work. Very few people stay, very few people know. It’s awful, but she starts to hope to see him on the fields. Like he’s some coworker she’s been flirting with in the coffee lounge. 

But he’s not her coworker. Quite the opposite, he’s a soldier on the other side. The enemy. He breaks men’s spines on his knee like toothpicks. He hums with visceral energy, like mud, blood, and guts. He disembowels men like fish. He walks like a monster with three legs (and at some point about three months into their little game, she touches herself thinking about that third leg.) He swings wide, he keeps his knives sharper than cat eyes. 

His stare is constant, glacial, beautiful. 

She wonders what the rest of him looks like, with such a beautiful set of eyes. Beautiful thighs. Beautiful shoulders. He must have some reason for the mask, but she can’t help but think (or hope) he’s a good kisser under there. That his hands must be larger than life, that his skin must be warm. That his teeth must feel good if used in particular places with caution and moderation. 

She’s sure if he ever caught her, the cat would sink his teeth right in. 

She finds she wouldn’t quite mind getting chewed on by him when they accidentally pick up each other’s radio frequencies in the field. They should be encrypted. They shouldn’t be able to, but the cruel stars align and they make their pacts. 

It’s a game of cat and mouse.  They’ve got their own little rules, too. 

They don’t talk about work or positioning, he always knows where she is but never tells anyone on his team. Once she reaches out, he never gets any closer. Like it’s a game. Like they’re playing hide and seek and he knows he opened his eyes too early so he’s closing them again and pinky swearing not to tell. 

He must not tell, because SpecGru has yet to fall into an ambush. So has KorTac, though. If anyone knew they’d have their heads, but no one else does. The secret stays between them and their radios become the divining rods of close encounters. 

Mostly it’s just breathing on each line, mostly it’s just- 

“König?”

“Maus?” 

“Mhm.”

“Hmm.”

And that’s it. And they breathe at the same time, and he looks up at her in the trees or in her towers or wherever she is. And she hopes he’s thinking the same terrible things that she is, and she hopes that he keeps striking out at base camp and bars and wherever just like she has, and she hopes that he’s lonely like she is. That he has nothing else to focus on so she takes all the space in his head like he does hers. 

She knows she should get a shrink or a good fuck to stop fucking thinking about him like this, but sometimes he whispers a joke into his radio and she laughs, and sometimes she tells him about the book she’s been reading, and sometimes he shows her his favorite knife tricks, and sometimes she tells him stories of before she was in the military and he always laughs and asks questions to show he’s actually engaged and he cares and- 

She doesn’t know when she started missing shots. When she started covering his ass the three or so times he didn’t recognize some hostile getting a bit too close for comfort. 

When the fire is heavy and the mission is condensed into a 100th the size of their usual open field rendezvous, she’s seen him in action. He can handle himself, he can more than handle himself.  Some terrible part of her hopes, though, that he is thankful for her. Cover fire from a traitorous Angel in the trees, makes for a good romance novel but a terrible dynamic in war. And that’s what this is, right? It’s war? But what for? 

She doesn’t know. She’s not sure she wants to. So she keeps their little secret and she prays that he stays safe when she really can’t risk covering for him. To that point, though, he does himself no favors. He fights like he can’t get hit. 

When they’re alone he’s the perfect gentleman, he gets no closer than when she reaches out to contact him first. When they’re not, it's a whole different story. He runs into the middle field like if he can just reach her, he can keep her. If he can carry back his conquest, well… kings get their war spoils, don’t they? It’s a terrible secret she keeps alive only in her heart, but she hopes one day he finally will. 

She’d never shoot one of her own, to save his hide. But when it’s one of his own going after his neck, or when one of hers needs cover too, or one of some other guys on him, it’s easy. 

The Mouse saves the King. 

But a game is no fun with only one player. 

The King also saves the Mouse. 

It’s November, it’s somewhere in the Alps. She’s had quite the pleasure of seeing him so in his element, so proud, broad-chested, and covered in the swagger of a mountain as it walks with its own. The snowfall constricts her view but not his movement. He’s practically prancing around like a snow leopard and despite the temperature it’s warming her up a little to think about how happy he looks down there. 

“Are you gonna get me, kitty?” She hums into her radio, lips curling into a saccharine smile, when it’s just them alone in the cold. His eyes find her immediately after she’s made contact. Like always, they breathe in and out at exactly the same time once those terribly fantastic eyes of his meet hers. 

“Haha!” His whole body shakes like an earthquake when he laughs. “No. Just…” he stops for a moment like he’s catching his breath or remembering the right word, “-watching.” He says, hand reaching to his mask, lifting it up just enough so she can see a red, red, mouth and sharp, sharp teeth turning in a cruel, Cheshire Cat smile. He languishes on a stump, playing with his signature knife, downright admiring her from far away. He pulls his mask back down, but the outline of his exhales still turn into clouds in the snow. 

They breathe in tandem. Their hearts must sync. 

Today is unusual because he is actually working at something in his grasp. Usually, his beloved knife is his dancing partner, his muse of movement, the loyal companion of his oversized hands. 

Many times she’s been lost in the beautiful dance of his hands and his knife, as he flicks it up and catches it with ease. Every time he does so, her heart clenches in her all of a sudden seemingly too-small chest as she fears it’ll come down and slice him. She knows how sharp he keeps his many knives, she knows how terribly it would go for him should it ever fall out of its practiced battle dance. The knife, of course, never does. When he gets bored of tossing it, he starts doing little tricks. He balances it on his index finger, he spins it between the fingers on his massive hand, he can even juggle it between his hands without a moment's hesitation. What’s worse, is the whole time he does it, he is watching her with a relaxed posture. Like he’s showing off like he’s saying “Don’t you see how good I can be with my hands? Don’t you want to invite me over? Don’t you ache to know just what I’ll make them do for you?”

This surgical precision never ceases to amaze her because she’s seen him around his comrades. The steady hands she so admires (and yearns to touch her) disappear and shake like leaves the second he has to talk strategy or cover for others outside of immediate battle. He’s a capable soldier, he’s a great commander, he’s an excellent strategist, sure. But he’s never at ease enough to make his knife dance like this, never like he is with her. His hands shake without adrenaline and with the company. 

His hands never shake when the two exist like this, though. No, the shy soldier boy who won’t look anyone in the eye doesn’t exist to her. Like a fairytale, the second the two see each other, he disappears and instead, a man of ferocious devotion finds himself in her sights. He waits for her. He never once gets closer to her than the moment she reaches out to him first. 

It would almost be romantic. If it wasn’t war and she wasn’t herself and he wasn’t himself. 

Her comm line lights up, ripping her away from her inattentive, lovelorn adorations. Apparently, there’s an enemy scout that’s inching treacherously close to her position and slipped past someone further ahead of her. If he gets beneath her, she’s D.O.A in her tree. 

She sees König’s body tense a second after hers, the way she’s come to recognize he’s received a transmission. He stops his idle patrol and puts down the something he was working on in his hands. Quickly, he tucks it into his pocket. He’s ready to hunt all of a sudden, the relaxed air of his body falls away with all the quickness and ferocity of an avalanche. She knows to pity the poor soul on the receiving end of that look in his eyes and-

Is it her this time? Her heart stutters to a stop. 

The snow is picking up, she can’t see much of anything but she sees him blur into motion. Towards her spot. 

“Keep moving and I shoot,” she says to him. In warning. Begging him not to. She’d miss his comfort if he does make her. 

“It’s right under you, Liebling.” His voice rasps through static colder than the snow on the ground. 

She realizes she’s stranded on her branch, there’s a widow’s maker close enough to her perch to mean she’s screwed if she moves too quickly. She doesn’t have enough time to maneuver out of the tree safely and she’s a sitting duck for someone else’s shot, so long as all they’ve got is short range. If it were longer range she’d be dead already. She’s going to fall to her death or get shot at from below. It’s a shame, but she’s a little happy that it’ll be König, her cat, that’ll catch her corpse. 

She sees the would-be assailant on the horizon and she brings her gun to her cheek. He darts frantically between trees, careful to only go far enough that she’ll have to re-aim as he darts out again. He’s gaining a substantial amount of ground as she finally has a good enough line of sight to execute and-

Her gun jams. 

With all the futility of a mouse in a glue trap, she begins to shake and replace everything she can afford to in such little time to make her rifle usable. The man on the forest floor uses all of the seconds she cannot afford to waste as it becomes clear that he will reach her before she can either get down or get her gun unjammed. 

But by the time she’s gone to pray and say her goodbyes in her head while frantically looking around, she hears the footfalls of a desperate man crunching snow and she sees red spill out. 

König’s massive hands cradle one of his very own, dead. She sees the outline of hardwired explosive packs on the corpse’s chest, apparently a suicide bomber? Alone in the Alps? 

For his part, the giant doesn’t seem the least bit displeased with his kill. He wipes his bloody knife on his pant thigh and sheaths it like it’s nothing. He’s got another man’s blood all over his lower half, he sliced that poor bastard clean between his third and fourth ribs.

“Threat eliminated. My position is compromised, I’m moving.” She says to her comm. 

“Rog, Mouse.” Someone in command responds. 

She, very slowly, makes her way down to the carnage near the base of her tree, sniper rifle at her hip like a mother huddles an unruly toddler. When she’s only 12 feet in the air instead of 40, König spreads his arms out to her. It’s snowing. Hard. He doesn’t move, arms outstretched like a tree.

“Maus, I‘ll help you!” He says. 

It’s the first thing he says to her outside of the buzz of the radio. 

It’s her name. Or, the only one he knows her by. 

And the first thing he says is a promise. A promise of help. A promise of aid. 

She shouldn’t trust him. 

She tosses her gun to the pillowy snow, against all safety protocols and everything she’s ever known. He doesn’t move for it. He’s got a rifle of his own, well- not a sniper's rifle, on his back. Maybe he doesn’t need two?

She unhooks her cabling. 

It’s snowing hard. 

She kicks off the tree and into the air. 

It’s snowing really hard and dawn is breaking. 

He does, indeed, catch her. 

He audibly gasps when she lands in his arms. He doesn’t move, she’s much too small and light to move the man. He just holds her. For a moment- in the air. 

“… klein,” he all but whispers and puts her on the ground. His hands don’t start trembling as she expects them to.

She doesn’t know what that means and goes to pick up her gun and makes a quiet mental note to find a German Dictionary or self-teacher or something if this weird romance is gonna keep up. 

“What’s this guy's story?” She motions to the left. Where there’s the stump of a man who should’ve been her death. 

“Traitor, against both sides. Al Qatala. Made off with classified files.” He rolls his shoulders, completely unconcerned. 

It could be a lie. It could’ve been that this man just has a weird obsession with her and couldn’t stand to see her get taken out by someone that wasn’t him. 

Well, if that were the case, why’s she still around? He could just kill her. But then again, couldn’t she have killed him multiple times over? 

She doesn’t think he's lying. He’s affected by some things, not by others. He’s much too jittery and anxious of a man to lie so easily to her. She recognizes she’s putting a terrible amount of trust in the enemy, but if it’s gotta be anyone, she’d rather it be the man who sometimes radios her terrible jokes instead of some stranger. 

But now they’re as face to face as over a foot and a half of height difference will let them be. There’s still the hood on his face which is haunting, but this monster-  he’s scarcely made a move to her that hasn’t been some perverse version of love or care. 

She realizes she’s thankful for him. 

Stockholm syndrome, she decides. Even though this is the first time they’ve been within 80 yards of each other. 

“Thank you.” Is what she says instead, breathless and quiet, almost like she’s sorry she has to say the words out loud. Almost like they’re bad news like she’s telling the kids they have to put the family cat down. 

“Bitte schön,” he says, gentle and warm like a wool blanket. His hands are drumming on his thighs with nervous kinetic energy and he looks intently at where he grabbed her, maybe he’s worried he hurt her? But he’s not trembling. She tries not to think about it, that he’s not trembling. Her face is red and her heart is fast but for all the wrong reasons.

Before they part ways and go back to their little lives on opposite sides of some silly war she’s sure is not worth the human toll, he reaches into his pocket. 

He brings the little thing to his hood and places it right where she reckons his lips are. 

Their breaths puff into billows of smoke. 

They breathe in time. 

It’s bloody from his pant legs when he presents it to her, holding the tiny object in two forefingers and thumbs. She cups her hands in front of her like a child begging the family pet to drop an injured bird it found in the backyard. He drops it just like that pet, a few inches above her hands to avoid bloodying her hands directly. Like it would be a shame. Like he cares about tainting her. 

It’s a piece of light wood, whittled into the shape of a mouse. 

She holds the thing in the palms of her hands and they ache. It is so small, so hard for even her to hold. His field knife, the one he loves so much, is massive but she knows it was the one that he used to make it. She did research one day, trying to discover what sort of blade it was. It's a custom Glock Field Knife, with a near mirror-perfect patina and two whole inches larger than the standard issue. She also thinks he wrapped the handle himself because she cannot find that stark red chord on any seller’s website. It's a monster of a knife, for a monster of a man. It’s not made for woodworking, for whittling, for creation– it's a thing of utter annihilation and destruction. Yet, he changed its nature. He utilized his most favored possession to carve intricately into fallen birch wood. He’s given a second life in the shape of her name to what would rot without his attention. He has created, against all odds, something beautiful and delicate out of a brutal tool and doomed material. For her.

She is dumbstruck by this man. She has no words for him, for herself, she wouldn’t have any for anyone who asked either. Suddenly, the Alps aren’t so cold even though it is verifiably snowing. 

When he turns to go she thinks how much his hands must’ve hurt to make this little thing and she can’t just let him go, not empty-handed. 

“Wait!” She calls to him. 

He stops and looks back at her. She fishes around in her pockets and curses her nearly-frostbitten fingers until she finds it. 

She tosses it to him. 

He opens the little leather pouch and she sees his smile through his eyes as he recognizes what it is. It’s her pocket whetstone, with the crown she doodled onto the leather holder with charcoal. 

Her lucky charm. 

She shouldn’t trust him, she’s really got no reason to. But this man, he’s saved her life. He likes knives more than she does, hell, uses them more than she does. There’s really no reason for her to have it (just like there was no reason for her to put his symbol into the leather.) His glacial eyes melt while looking down at the object and she’s never known the winter wilderness to be so warm. She tries not to think about the way her heart speeds up when his eyes soften looking at the object. 

“I will only use this from now on, Maus.” He says, voice quiet and reverent. Like he holds the keys to his kingdom when he holds the cheap piece of rock. 

“Don’t. It’s- it’s not a great one. Just. My charm.” She shrugs. She wants to say ‘It’s a piece of shit and useless, just like I am. It’ll fuck up your knives. I know you love them. Don’t ruin useful things on my account.’ 

“All the more reason to treasure it.” He replies, simple and unburdened.

God. She wishes he wasn’t so charming. There’s no going back. 

She feels like she’s in his jaws already, totally caught. He seems not to realize that he could march off with her and go anywhere and she’d just let him. He walks away and it genuinely hurts when his form disappears into snow and trees and leaves no trace like he’s a fairy tale. Like he’s not real and never was and cannot be. 

And with that, the King had saved the Mouse. He turned and left and she moved her position before returning to base camp. 

The next time she sees him, about a week later, she sees him sharpening his massive field knife with the tiny whetstone on his comically large thigh, and in response, she thumbs at the wooden effigy in her pocket. They laughed into their radios to each other. Her cheeks flush red. Her thighs clench around nothing. She dreams about those big, big, hands, the ones that cradled her in the air, pinning her down and leaving black and blue bruises all over her hips and thighs. She thinks about that red, red mouth tracing said bruises with a gentle tongue. She thinks about the hands caressing her neck, the mouth kissing the top of her head. The hands, holding her at the hip snug to his massive frame throughout the night. The mouth, hushing her to sleep and promising to be there in the morning. 

She’s got nothing for him, though. Other than her body and the vain, ridiculous, impossible dream that’s enough for him. He doesn’t seem the romantic type. She doesn’t think he’d settle down. She doesn’t know him at all, not really.

But, she does have something for him. The answer to a question from what feels like lifetimes ago. 

“It’s because I’m quiet.” She whispers into her radio, half hoping he won’t pick up. 

“What?” He hums back. 

“Mouse. Because I’m short and quiet in the field.” 

“Really?” He asks back. “That’s it?”

“Yep.” A heartbeat too long of silence passes between them. She chews the inside of her lip to bits, waiting for a response. “Your turn,” she prods gently. 

“Because I am not.” Is his response. 

“Really, that’s it?” She chuckles into her radio. 

He just laughs on the other end. And now she’s really got nothing else to give him, save a rare book recommendation, a laugh in return for his bad jokes, and her sharp eyes always trained on his form in her scope. She’s got nothing to give him that she hasn’t already given him, and nothing he couldn’t just find elsewhere. 

But God, she wants him all the same. 

It’s dangerous to be at war. 

It’s dangerous to play cat and mouse. 

Even more dangerous to fall in love on top of those two. 

taglist!

@kneelingshadowsalomee @sprout-fics @bucca2 @dead-cipher @gallowsjoker @lostagoodcigar 

[hcdragonwrites]

River (Jttw-Monkeybuisness)

Ok I wrote another thing for @jttw-monkeybusiness there art inspires me and makes my brain itch and honestly I love Sophie to death so here you go!

And yes I suck at naming things when they are snippets of stuff I just usually name it what it’s about.

‘Getting water should be easy’ Sophie thought.

However it seemed that whatever gods were watching their trek today through China must have been bored and made this their entertainment for the evening.

Force the girl Buddha had plucked out of time to get water. Well it was unfair to assume it was the Buddha but whatever magical force actually had pulled her out of her time? Well that being was a massive dick. Sophie strained her arm, feeling the sway of the tree branch she clung to bobbed under her weight.

The banks of this river were steep as Trip and the group were making their way through mountains. The steep sides slide right into the dark water, rushing by in silent swirls of black- and offering no safe place for any traveler to easily reach it. The tree branch that Sophie now climbed upon, hung low enough off the steep riverbank, almost kissing the water with its bark. Moss had begun to grow from its limbs from the constant moisture. It offered Sophie a perfect opportunity.

She had both legs and arm hooked around the branch as it swayed, one free hand straining forward and dipping the water skins into the dark flow.

Jesus it’s freezing, she thought as her fingers dipped beneath the black current. Must be a runoff from a snow melt… If she fell into it she would be soaked and cold to the bone. Sophie shook herself, scattering that intrusive thought.

‘Only two more skins to go…’. She yanked the first one up, muscles burning. She lay flat, stomach hugging the branch and trying not to slip. Sophie wasn’t the most athletic person but she wasn’t a pushover either. Getting water was something she could do. Maybe she couldn’t fight Gods and humble the heavens like Wukong. Maybe she couldn’t breathe underwater and spear demons like Sandy.

Pigsy- well he was a fighter but mostly she had seen him run either away from a fight, pick a fight with Wukong, or fight to run towards women. Most of the time those women were demons in disguise that Wukong warned about. Sandy and her had a betting game going on silently between themselves as to which women were women and which were demons that wanted to devour Trip or herself. Mostly Trip but sometimes she would be mentioned.

So far the score was tipping in Sandy’s favor(who guessed mostly that the women they ran into were real women)- but only because the last village they had been in had been plagued by a child devouring rat demon. It was a morbid kind of way to make light of a situation that just kept recurring as Pisgy never learned.

Tripitaka even had his own abilities to commend, if some of those abilities didn’t translate over to combat. Staying still, meditating, being able to see the good in everyone - Sophie could hear Wukong now, thoroughly ripping into Trip for that belief- those were all traits that helped.

Sophie- a Girl out of time- was determined to have her own uses.

And if that was just doing minimal tasks then she would be GRAND at them!

She uncorked the last water skin and dipped it beneath the water as twilight began to descend into the gorge. The water turned black by the lack of light made Sophie’s stomach twist just a bit. There’s nothing in the water Sophie- nothing at all.

Her reassurances fell short. She had seen too much of demons and gods and magical mojo to really believe that nothing was staring up at her.

What happened next was a factor of several things. The first of those things we can lay blame at the feet of one Monkey King.

Sun Wukong had been given the task of collecting some fresh meat for the stew Trip was preparing and had sent Wukong to find some. The meat was mostly for Sophie and the rest but Trip would also partake. Being a Buddhist he usually kept to a strict vegetarian diet of noodles and soups. However, even he understood that on the road the pilgrims did not have much choice in diet.

So Wukong had gone, easily catching several rabbits and a large goose from further down the river. After his return and depositing them at Pigsys feet to be cleaned and prepped, Wukong was disappointed in the lack of praise. Usually bringing in a haul of food would give him some thanks- however the person that usually did the thanking was … missing.

“Where is the Reader?” Wukong demanded, arms crossing and tail lashing in annoyance.

Pigsy looked up at him from beneath bushy eyebrows. “Sophie,” Pigsy drawled, taking the first rabbit and cutting it clean of its pelt, “went to fill the water skins.”

“Alone? No one thought to go with her?” Wukong made a scoffing noise. Between her and the Monk there had been too many occasions where a demon had taken them as bait to lure out the infamous Monkey King. Didn’t she know by now that she couldn’t just wander off?

“She is not a Child, Brother.” Sandy interjected. The great water demon was sitting cross legged at the fire, stirring the pot. As Pigsy quickly and methodically cleaned the animals, Sandy was just as quick in adding them to the stew. The aroma was already becoming tantalizing. “She wanted a task and was given one. You know she does not like to be idle when there are things to do.”

“I wasn’t saying idleness was the correct answer.” Wukong picked at an invisible dust mote on his sleeve and flicked it away. He was feigning boredom when in reality he felt an itch under his fur. It was his responsibility to keep the mortals safe on this quest.

That included Trip and Sophie. The monk was easy to keep in one place, unless there were people that kept begging for help. Which - happened more than Wukong would care to admit.Sophie was … not so easily manageable.

That stupid women wanted to be as helpful as possible. Whether that be fetching supplies in town, carrying messages for the monk, or even tending to Yulong, she was always trying to keep busy. Which wouldn’t have been a problem for the Monkey King if it didn’t make his fur itch terribly so.

The itching would only go away after he knew she hadn’t gotten eaten by some wannabe river god.

“She needs to wait until I am back. Then she could have asked me for my help and I would have obliged.”

“I think the monkey likes Sophie.” Pigsy mock stage whispered, earning a murderous glare from Wukong. Pigsy flinched back, rubbing at the phantom pain on his head from the last time he had egged Wukong on a bit too much.

“She is only down by the river.” Sandy peacefully interjected before Wukong to react to Pigsys tone. “Just past the bend- I made sure she knew not to go farther.”

At least Sandy knew how danger inclined the mortals in their group were.

Wukong turned and left the camp, walking to the river not far off. The women wasn’t too far away to warrant an escort- she had learned from the last couple of times of almost being devoured or snatched up to not wander so far- but his fur wouldn’t lie flat on his shoulders. It itched terribly so. The sooner he could see her, the sooner the itching would go away.

As he came around the bend he saw her. Sophie was clinging to a tree that looked like it could be swept away into the river at any moment, legs hugging the branch as one hand dipped into the water. Her hair hung down, almost skimming the black surface. Wukongs fur stopped itching and he smoothed it down. Since no one but he was near Sophie to see, and she being too occupied by the river to even notice, he decided to indulge himself and stared openly.

When she had first joined their pilgrimage he had been pissed. Another human to take care of, to babysit, to feed was not what Sun Wukong, Great Sage Equal to Heaven, had signed up for. If he was being honest with himself, none of this pilgrimage was what Wukong had voluntarily signed up for.

Sophie was strange to boot. Fair of skin, eyes and hair, she looked like a spirit from some heavenly court. However she did not act like any women in the Jade Emperor's Palace, because on one of the more ridiculous of their days where The monk had almost been married to a demon queen and Wukong had to break through and kill a little too much, Sophie had let loose a string of curses that were so foreign and colorful that the Monkey King had been momentarily shaken from his indifference at her to turn and inquire to what those phrases even meant.

It had been the start to something Wukong would never admit openly to. It had grown since that day as he learned that, while she may look pretty, she was no women in courtly garb or village outpost. She had a sharp mind, always asking questions and trying to figure out the why and the how of everything. Why did Wukong have a staff that could shrink and be tucked in his ear? Where had Wukong learned to shapeshifter? How had he been able to master duplicating himself with just a bit of fur and spit?

Sophie was open about questions of herself- where she had come from, what she had done before (something about being an artist) and why she looked the way she did (this last bit was rude on Wukongs part and had had the monk use the circlet around his brow as a reprimand. ‘We don’t ask why they look a certain way Wukong," he had said. The Monkey king had not meant it rudley- more or less he just wanted to know where in the world other people like her existed - that looked like her.)

She didn’t like blood so that was a bit of a downside. But an upside was she wasn’t afraid to go toe to toe when the Monk was being so incredibly and unreasonably unfair in his punishments. Wukong didn’t kill too much. Just enough.

Wukong hadn’t had anyone stick up for him like that.

So Sun Wukong decided to play- though no one else would see it as such. Tormenting and teasing and egging and goading were usually not considered human equivalencies of play. On Flower Fruit Mountain those had been the height of games and pastimes. Finding the little things that would itch someone’s skin, that could in turn get right beneath the armor of good words and embarrass the person enough to stumble out of their rehearsed facade and reveal the true self was a specialty of the Monkey Kings. He had done so with all the attendants in Heaven, with all the would-be demon conquerors that marched onto his doorstep. Dig at something long enough and you will find what makes them tick

So Wukong poked at Sophie’s person. He took things from her bag when bored and kept them away (it wasn’t hard and he didn’t have to even make himself bigger to do so). Wukong would try and goad her into playing pranks with him, sometimes even dragging her halfway through one before letting her know that it was a prank. He would answer her questions, insult her intelligence by calling her stupid women, and challenge her on her moral standings. He did everything in the monkey fashion that would be considered teasing and mildly bullying to figure out who she was.

He didn’t realize till it was too late that this had become more than a game to him. He was enjoying this.

Wukong didn’t get to watch her openly. Pigsy would think him infatuated with her and then he would become insufferable. That couldn’t happen. So Wukong would steal glimpses, brush shoulders, take hidden moments like when Sophie had turned to him, eyes shining and bright, and had begged to be lifted up so she could pet a few monkeys perched within a tree. Wukong could still feel the weight of her on his arm, the smell of her. She had been so enamored with the monkeys above that he didn’t have to worry. He could watch her without disguise.

Like he was now. Her face was screwed up in concentration, lip between her teeth as she corked the water skin and swung it onto the bank. She may be a weak mortal but she had good aim. Sophie placed the last one in the water, blue eyes glittering in the twilight. He would have to teach her how to properly hang. She was so limited in movement on that branch, clinging to it like a cat. It was improper and she could still easily slip into the water and be lost. It was a good thing Wukong was here then.

So it was, in part, the Monkey Kings fault for what happened next. And in part, Sophie’s mind is at fault. Wukong was as silent as a tiger, walking up and onto the tree without a sound. And as he was silent and watching, Sophie’s mind was loud and preoccupied.

She only had one more skin to fill but her mind wouldn’t let go of the thought of there being some beast or creature watching her. Waiting for her. It was just like the irrational fear children get when they swim into the deep part of a swimming pool- that somehow someway a shark would come from the clear cemented depths and devour them.

Only- this wasn’t a clear swimming pool. And this wasn’t some childhood fear anymore. Sophie had seen Tripataka almost go underwater from a river monsters grasping hands. If it hadn’t been for Sandy at that time, the monk would have drowned. She shivered. The sooner she got back to camp and away from the spooky dark water and the night, the better.

“There!” She felt the weight was sufficient enough and quickly corked the water skin. Sophie could get down now, off this tree and back into the warm and comforting light of the fire. Maybe she could ask Wukong for another of his stories- well histories as he called them. He was good at telling stories- if they were centered around himself. She went to throw the water skin, already calming down—

Eyes.

Glowing eyes watching her from above. Something human shaped in the foliage—

“Fucking shit!”

Panic set in and instinct. She flinched back, dropping the skin—

And slipping headfirst into the water. The cold shocked her body, screaming for her to get UP GET OUT DANGER- and she kicked back to the surface, spluttering. The current however was stronger than she thought and was already yanking her down to begin with. Her clothes were a weight that the water happily tugged down, mangling it with the current.

Something shot out and grabbed her around the middle and pulled.

OH GODS THERE IS A WATER DEMON THATS IN HERE! Sophie swung out, flailing wildly to get free. Her hands hit something but it was like hitting stone. She would not end up as someone’s meal or bride or servant or anything else. The thing that had a grip on her didn’t let go. But it didn’t haul her under- it hauled her up. As she breached the surface, she spat water from between her lips, her hair blocking her face.

She breathed in just enough air to start threatening.

“WHOEVER OR WHATEVER YOU ARE, JUST KNOW IF YOU EAT ME YOU WILL REGRET IT.” Sophie breathed in more air so she could get louder- if she was loud enough maybe Sandy or Pigsy would hear. If Wukong was back he would definitely hear her. She had to fight until she could get enough air in her lungs to holler louder. She swung again, connecting to what felt like a face- but it was like runing her hand into a brick wall. “I HAVE A FRIEND WHOS THE BEST MONKEY IN THE WHOLE WORLD WHO WILL SKIN YOU—“

Another hand caught her wrist, holding away. Sophie would just have to swing her free hand around and —

“Stop fucking flailing women you will bring the whole branch back into the river !” The person hissed and Sophie paused. She pulled the wet hair out of her face with her free hand.

“Wukong?”

The Monkey King was holding her close, one arm wrapped around her middle and the other holding one of her previously flailing wrists. His eyes were narrowed to angry yellow slits.

“You idiot who else would it be ?” His face was wet from where Sophie must have obviously punched him and splashed water at him.

“What are you doing out here- I thought-“

“I came to fetch you since you were taking so long and everyone was worrying about you.” He adjusted his grip, and hopped off the branch and back onto solid earth. “Then you had to go and dunk yourself into the river like a fool and I had to fish you out. I was also able to get the water skin you almost lost. ” He held up the skin, tossing it onto the bank.

“I didn’t dunk myself in the river !” Sophie pushed off of Wukong and he let her go, crossing his arms. “If you weren’t spookily hiding in the branches with your glowing eyes I wouldn’t have panicked and lost my grip!”

“I can’t believe you hit me…”

“Of course I would hit you! I DIDN'T KNOW IT WAS YOU!” Sophie shouted.

“You should know me enough by now that I’m not like every other gripping demon out there!”

“Wukong how would I know when I’m half drowning in the water and I can’t see you?!” Sophie countered. He rolled his eyes, collecting the cast off water skins she had thrown onto the bank, grumbling about mortals and being blind.

“What were you doing?”

Wukong didn’t reply to her, his tail twitching agitatedly. Sophie looked down at herself. She was drenched from head to bare foot in water. Her skin was already starting to break out in goosebumps as the sun sank behind the mountains, casting the gorge into shadow.

“Why were you hiding in the branches?” Sophie pressed, collecting her shoes and holding them in hand. She would have to be careful walking back not to step on anything. Putting her shoes on now would only get them wet from her pant legs being sodden. Wet shoes were also not fun to walk in and they had a long trek tomorrow. Trip wanted to get to the next monastery and have as he liked to call it “an honest meal” which mostly consisted of mushrooms, noodles and broth. Trip was a vegetarian by nature but on the journey he did at times have to make sacrifices.

“Again I wasn’t hiding. The great Sun Wukong doesn’t hide.” Wukong replied, combing his wet fur back into place. “I was coming to fetch you and bring you back for supper. It’s not my fault you didn’t hear me.”

“Did you call out to me?”

“I was making enough noise a deaf and blind beggar could have heard me!” Wukong patted his pant leg where the majority of the water had gotten onto him. It wasn’t as bad as the full drenching Sophie had taken.

Sophie could smell the lie even as Wukong ignored her angry glower.

“Bull-bull s-shit!” She challenged but it came out between chattering teeth. Fuck it got cold fast.

Wukong paused in his own musings, hands pausing in inspecting himself and turned. He peered up into Sophie’s face, so close that he was almost nose to nose. The Monkey King looked at her eyes, down to her lips, then across the rest of her.

“Um… Wukong?”

“You're cold.” Wukong tapped his own lips, and pointed out the raised goose flesh on her arms. “Blue lips and bumps mean cold” His voice was much softer now. “Stupid women.”

He stepped back, hands crossing over his chest again. He looked her up and down then demanded “Take that off.”

“Excuse me?!”

“I’ll turn around, just take off your wet shirt!” Wukong shouted back. “You have those dry … er, shorts right?”

“Yes back in my bag.”

Wukong nodded once.

“Good. Take off your shirt.” He turned around, good to his word.

Sophie did so- shivering as the cold air clung to her skin. The cloth was heavy with water and she sighed. It wouldn’t be dry until well into tomorrow- she would be forced to wear her ‘otherworldly’ clothing. It was fine by her but if they stopped by a village it also meant she would have to wait outside. Sophie had learned the last time that walking into a village with odd clothes could be one of several different reactions, all mostly negative and involving the villagers calling her a demon or witch. Or throwing rocks at her. As she peeled herself free from the sodden clothing the night air kissed her skin and sent her teeth chattering harder. “D-done.”

Wukong hadn’t turned around but he had divested himself of his own robed shirt, holding it out and behind himself. Sophie tried not to stare at his back too long.

“Put it on.” It was kindness Sophie wasn’t expecting. Wukong, the last time he had given her his shirt to wear, had been an order from Tripataka. She had to wash her clothes after a heavy rainstorm had her falling in mud. Of course she had had no spare tops- they all needed to be washed from the travel smell and the dirt. So Trip had ordered Wukong to give up his shirt. It hadn’t been willing kindness but Sophie had still taken it as that.

But this? This was unexpected. Sophie opened her mouth to reply when Wukong continued, “I can’t believe I’m going to have to wash it again of your stink.”

Well so much for kindness. Sophie thought. First the monkey had scared her into the river. Then he had rescued her and blamed her for falling in? All because she couldn’t hear him? She didn’t believe that- not for a second. Great Sage Equal to Heaven Sun Wukong had not been walking loudly. He hadn’t even tried to call out to her to get her attention. What had he been doing when he was on the branch? How long had he been there?

Well, Sophie thought, I should be more aware of my surroundings- or at least not let my mind run away with the rest of my senses.

Though in all fairness if Wukong had wanted to sneak up on her, she would never have known. He was too quiet for his own good and it played into how well he could slip frogs into Pigsys blanket roll.

Sophie shrugged the shirt up and over her head, feeling the residual warmth from Wukong already transferring to her skin.

“At least you won’t get sick and worry the Monk.” Wukong said. Sophie tapped his shoulder and he turned. Without asking, he grabbed her sodden shirt and held it out in front of him.

He may have caused her to fall in. He may have been trying to scare her or something else. But he had pulled her out of the river. He had given her his shirt- free of an order. Sophie was beginning to read the guilt through his actions. Whatever Wukong had meant to do- he hadn’t meant to do that.

“…. Thank you Wukong.”

He grunted, holding Sophie’s shirt in one hand like someone would hold a gross bug.

“What would you do without me? You are completely incapable of keeping yourself safe. Too weak to fight, and too uncoordinated to even balance properly. What were you doing using only one arm for the water? You should have hooked your legs over the trunk instead. ” Wukong walked only a pace ahead of Sophie, slowing whenever she winced over the ground. At least the ground was only slightly rocky here.

“Maybe I wouldn’t fall in rivers because the person that is so worried about my safety didn’t just scare me half to death.” She shot and Wukong merely grinned wider.

“ It seems you forget how to say ‘You are Welcome Wukong’ ! It was just a dip in the water and I was right there to keep you from drowning.”

“Uh huh.”

“ It was needed.” He sniffed the drenched clothing and grimaced, a twinkle of mischief in his eyes. “You did stink.”

“Oh hahaha let me laugh it up- not like there’s soap and a bathtub waiting at every spot we stop.” Sophie rubbed her arms, pulling her hair back from her face to tuck behind her ears. “You stink too when you come back from slaughtering half a hoard of demons ya know?”

“I take care of myself. Unlike you.”

“I thought you were some river monster coming to drown me and eat my bones you ass.” Sophie tilted her head and squeezed some water off the edges of her hair. She was going to need a brush, the bits of hair already curling and tangling together. “Lurking in the shadows above me is not a way to reassure a girl you aren’t there to devour them.”

“All the more reason,” Wukong crowed, “Not to go without an escort. If you are going to go anywhere, you have to take me with you. You are in a King's care after all. It reflects badly upon my own standing as King and guardian of this pilgrimage if you end up between the teeth of some demon. Mortals like you and the Monk should know this by now.”

“Sandy knew where I was.”

“And look at the good that did you.”

There was no popping Sun Wukongs bubble of pride- he had already wrapped this story up as a great rescue of some kind. He didn’t grin about it, but Sophie could see he was indifferent to the chaos he had caused her. She wished she could throw him sometimes. Maybe he would think twice about scaring her if she could dunk him in a river.

“…stupid monkey.”

Wukong turned at that, grinning now with all teeth. The game was afoot now in full force and he felt it.

“What we’re you saying as I pulled you up? Something like “A friend whos the best monkey in the world?’”

“If he really was the best he wouldn’t have half drowned me.” Sophie pointed out, sniffing. They were nearing the fire, and the smell of Sandy’s stew was enough to make her stomach give an audible gurgle.

“I didn’t.” Wukong corrected, helping her over a bit of prickly thorn bushes without being promoted. Maybe he did feel a smidge guilty then. He usually had to be begged to assist - or ordered by Trip. “ You slipped. It’s not my fault you can’t hear or see, stupid women.”

“Keep telling yourself that Wukong. Maybe you’ll make it true.”

As Sophie entered the camp she was bombarded from all sides by the concern of her fellow pilgrims. Sandy rose from the fire- a bowl of stew already being shoved in her hands. Pigsy threatened and yelled at Wukong enough that both of them started to get into a spat. Tripitaka had to stand, to command them to stop before it escalated from mere name calling to physical fighting. Trip then held out Sophie’s bag and she gratefully took it and dipped behind a bit of greenery several paces beyond to change out of her drenched pants and into the comfy pajama shorts and a comfy hoodie. When she came back Pigsy was still growling out threats while a disinterested Wukong cleaned his nails. He looked up briefly at her then away.

“When we reach the next village we will grab you a spare.” Tripitaka spoke around a bowl of noodles. He had opted just for noodles tonight, leaving the meat to the rest of the group. His smile was kind and apologetic. “Sophie you will probably have to wait outside the village till we can get you a replacement.”

She nodded. She could risk going into the village with her regular attire on but … being chastised and poked at by the villagers was not a pleasant experience. Once was enough for her.

“When you guys go into the village could you ask for some healing balm- or maybe a big hat?” Sophie looked to Sandy. “The sun is really starting to burn my skin and I only have so much left of my other world stuff.” Trying to describe the items in her bag at times left different reactions from the group- or more questions. Sophie didn’t want to answer those questions at the moment, hungry and cold.

Sandy nodded, passing a bowl to Wukong on her right. “I will ask for you, Sophie.”

As the group dug into their suppers and then settled for the night, Sophie was glad the fire was banked high. The chill was being chased from her bones and, even if the ground wasn’t comfortable, she looked on the bright side. She hadn’t been eaten. As Wukong took the first watch and Pigsy already was snoring, Sophie closed her eyes—

And woke to the stars still shining in her face as something bumped beside her head. She startled up, blinking out the sleep that clung.

“Hello-?”

“Shhh.” Wukong was crouched beside her, his tail being the culprit of what woke her up. His face looked tired with sleep, the scowl deeper and more furious. He shoved something into Sophie’s lap. She looked down. They were new clothes- a robbed top and pants.

“If you tell the Monk I stole it, I will give you a thorough washing in the river.” Wukong hissed, pulling at Sophie’s bag and rummaging through the contents. Well there he goes again, just digging through my stuff. It didn’t bother her anymore since Wukong rarely kept any of the items of hers he pocketed. He pulled out the coin string, taking some of the bronze rings. “I’m taking some of these so it looks like I bought them. Got it ?”

“So you are feeling guilty for startling me into the water.” Wukong opened his mouth, to argue, to plead his case that no he was not feeling guilty he was Sun Wukong and he did not feel guilt, when Sophie smiled up at him and laid back down.

“It’s ok. Your secret is safe with me-“ she grogely replied, laying back down and curling over the clothes. Sophie patted the ground beside her. “Your watch is over right?”

“Yes.” His head was cocked to the side, like a dog confused.

“Good. Get some sleep.” Sophie closed her eyes. She didn’t hear him move off but she knew he had settled just a bit away from her.

“And Wukong?”

A grunt from behind her- already settling into his spot, back to her.

“Thanks. I forgive you for almost drowning me.”

“I didn’t drown you.”

“I’ll take that as ‘your welcome’.”

[coolstarfishbarbarian]

Naked apron(About what I'm doing these days）

I traveled to Yunnan Province of China these days. The day before yesterday, I went to Cangshan Mountain and climbed to the top of the mountain at an altitude of more than 4,000 meters. I don't want to climb the mountain anymore. I'm too tired.

I found a lot of beautiful flowers. Let me show you.

[crystal-cloudzz]

sbg headcanons (part 1/2)

ashlyn 🎧💚

-shes only cut her hair once, she hated it

-shes used to want to do a sport, but in one class, she got introduced to ballet and fell in love with it

-i don't know why but I have a strong feeling she'd love apple, grape and raspberry flavoured stuff

-every time when she was younger and saw a dog she begged the owner for it (they said no)

-she already has lots of freckles. She gets even more in sunlight

-shes a beach and mountain girl

Aiden 🔪💛

-has depression but got very good at hiding it

-used to sh

-has insomnia

-sprayed chemicals into eyes once by accident

-hes an avid great wall of china Eiffel tower burg khalifa skyscraper tree climber, he climbs to the peak then jumps off

-his parents keep forgetting his birthday, and his dad even keeps forgetting his name (he calls him aaron)

-once had a really good friend then moved

-hes the type to suggest to Netflix and chill then put on how to train your dragon 3 and pass you 7 tubs of chocolate ice cream then says "eat up :D" with a creepy grin

-has a fear of being left alone

-used to be sucidal

-hes a smileycore bitch, like with the drugs aspect and everything

-"oh it doesn't hurt, I'm fine" *arm literally snapped in half, twisted 360 degrees behind his back

-cant cook for shit. Not even 5 minute noodles are safe

-very self destructive

-hin dying his hair is a coping mechanism

-has a bad relationship with his parents (mainly his dad)

-his latest b-day party was when he was 5

-attention deprived

-touch starved

-once add raw meat to get attention (it worked, he never did it again afterwards)

Ben 🎤🤎

-trans male

-sofia the first (that's it. That's all I'm saying)

-has a way with animals, it's like he's telepathic with them

-no but he's actually Sofia the first I have so much proof for it I have an entire au for it

-cant cook either, can only bake

-makes the best cakes and you can't convince me otherwise

-hes the reason Aiden bounces off walls all the time

-always one of the last to be found at hide and seek (except when Lily's playing. Then he goes easy on her)

Oh btw Aiden and Tyler are my favourites if you couldn't tell by the abundance of Aiden hcs

[p-redux]

I say he is in Nepal, either at base camp, or less likely, scaling Everest. Your opinion on this theory?

Hi, Anon, as I said in a previous post, I have a slight obsession with all things Mount Everest, have read the books, watched the movies, the TV series, and every year when it's the push for the summit in May, I follow climbers on Instagram, and watch their treks up to the highest mountain on Earth. Soooo, I do have some knowledge on this subject. Here's my take...

I know Sam has said in interviews that one of his bucket list items is climbing Mount Everest. And he was supposed to star in that Everest movie. The thing is, climbing to the SUMMIT of Mount Everest is only done in May, usually mid May due to weather constraints. And the prep dictates you have to start 2 months before to acclimate to the high altitude. I'll talk more about that down below. IF you are able to spend the two months in either Nepal for climbing from the South side of Everest, or Tibet (controlled by China) for climbing from the North side of Everest, you will be climbing to almost 29,032 feet, 8,849 meters. This is literally the altitude that jet planes fly once they reach cruising altitude. Sam has this pesky thing called a contract to finish out the remaining seasons of Outlander. I highly doubt his Outlander contract, and the insurance company associated with it, would allow him to take such a risk. Every year, people DIE climbing up or on the way back down from the summit. And some people don't die, but they get severe frostbite and lose fingers, toes, tips of noses. It's not for the faint of heart, and it's not for handsome actors who need to keep their beautiful appendages intact for filming Outlander. Unless the writers can work on a storyline involving Jamie Fraser missing a few, um, things.

Having said that, it IS possible Sam could trek to Mount Everest BASE CAMP. This is the area at the base of the mountain that all climbers go to to prepare to climb higher up, and eventually to the summit. BUT, some people who aren't making summit bids, simply make Base Camp their one and only destination. And that may be a compromise Sam makes with Outlander producers. Base Camp is still REALLY, REALLY high. It's at 17,598 feet, 5,364 meters. Sam isn't putting himself in too much risk at Base Camp...unless there's an avalanche. Sadly, there have been avalanches there and many people have died, as a result, the last one being in 2015.

Everest Base Camp in Nepal is trekked either for the Summit bid season February to May, with all summit bids happening in May. OR, it is trekked JUST for the Base Camp in late September to November. We are now in November, so it IS possible. 👇

BUT, you don't simply hop on a plane and get plopped down at Base Camp's 17,000 feet altitude. You could quite literally die from High Altitude Cerebral Edema and or High Altitude Pulmonary Edema due to the low oxygen levels. Soooo, IF Sam wanted to trek to Mount Everest Base Camp in Nepal, he would have to start acclimating at least two weeks before. All travelers going from Nepal's capital, Kathmandu at an elevation of 4,344 feet stay there for a few days, and then they do a 14 day trek up the mountains, to allow their bodies to acclimate to the altitude and the lower oxygen levels. 👇

Sam would have to allow himself at LEAST 3 WEEKS to make the Everest Base Camp trek. 2 weeks to climb there and acclimate, and then you want to spend at least a week there camping and just being there. Then you have to allow time for the return climb back down. This isn't a weekend excursion.

As for whether Sam is actually trying to climb to Mount Everest SUMMIT. That would be a definite NO. Not only from an Outlander insurance and contract issue, but also because it's not summit climbing season. 👇

And for people who want to climb to the Summit, they have to make a 2 MONTH commitment. The summit climb entails the two weeks to climb to Base Camp. And then at least 6 weeks, climbing up and down from each of the higher camps. I think there are at least 4 camps that climbers stay at, higher and higher on the mountain, until they reach the Summit. 👇

So, if a climber wants to go for a Summit bid, which is always in mid-May, they would have to start in mid-March and literally be on Mount Everest at the various camps the whole two months. It's a huge commitment. Most companies charge around $40,000 for the whole expedition. The reputable ones assign each climber a Sherpa to guide you. The Sherpas are natives to the area and they are expert climbers who are born in the area, therefore their bodies are completely acclimated to the high altitude. The expedition companies hire them to help climbers up the mountain. They set all the safety ropes, set up the camps, make the meals, and deal with the inevitable emergencies along the way. No one should climb without a Sherpa. Also, most companies will only take on a climber for a Summit bid if they can show previous experience in climbing at high altitude and have summitted a few of the highest peaks on Earth. That's not Sam. So, if anything, Sam would probably only be allowed to climb to Base Camp.

As you can see, I'm really, really into all things Everest and could keep writing all day hahaha. But, I'll stop here. I hope that was helpful info, Anon.

[spacetimewithstuartgary]

From Sky and Telescope Magazine

The highly anticipated Comet Tsuchinshan-ATLAS will come into evening view for Northern Hemisphere observers starting October 11th.

Note to Editors/Producers: This release is for viewers in the U.S., Canada, and elsewhere from latitudes 25° to 50° north. This release is also accompanied by high-quality graphics; see the end of this release for the images and links to download.

For the first time in years, we're about to see an easily visible comet. Friday should bring the first evening glimpse of the comet, low in the west during twilight. The comet will appear higher in the sky and become easier to spot through the weekend. By early next week, it will be at its best for viewing.

For tens of thousands of years Comet Tsuchinshan-ATLAS (pronounced choo-cheen-SHAHN), also known as C/2023 A3, has been falling in toward the Sun. Astronomers discovered it in early 2023 as a tiny, distant speck in large telescopes. Having just swung around the Sun on September 27th, it's now passing its closest by Earth, coming within 44 million miles of us on October 12th. For the next days, it will be showing off during its brief time of glory in the Sun's warmth and light.

How to See the Comet

"As soon as October 11th, ambitious comet spotters may pick up the comet during twilight just above the western horizon," says Sky & Telescope Contributing Editor Bob King. "Binoculars will help you see the comet throughout its appearance."

About 40 minutes after sunset on Friday, find a spot with a good view down to the western horizon. The first thing that will catch your eye will be the bright planet Venus, the Evening Star — that's your starting point. Hold your fist out at arm's length; the comet is about 2½ fists to Venus's right. The comet will still look tiny in Friday's twilight — like a hazy star with a small tail — and will set while twilight is still in progress.

But that's just the warm-up.

The next evening, on Saturday, October 12th, Tsuchinshan-ATLAS will be a little higher and easier to find, and it will remain in view until a little later in twilight. Every evening thereafter, the comet will appear higher and more obvious. As twilight fades on Monday, October 14th, it will be two fists to the upper right of Venus (if seen from the northern U.S.) or to the right of Venus (if seen from the southern U.S.). As twilight turns to night, the comet will remain in view, its long, straight tail pointing up from the horizon.

The following few days should provide the best views as the comet gains height in our skies — despite light from the waxing gibbous Moon.

Around October 20th, a window of true darkness begins to open up between twilight and moonrise if you're far from the skyglow of city lights. But by then the comet, now high in the sky, will have started to fade and shrink. It will diminish into the distance in the following days, becoming invisible to the unaided eye later in the month even under ideal, dark-sky conditions.

Comet Origins & Fate

The comet came by its name from its discovery at both China's Purple Mountain Observatory (tsuchinshan means "purple mountain") and South Africa's Asteroid Terrestrial-impact Last Alert System (ATLAS). The two teams picked up the comet independently in early 2023, when it was still beyond Jupiter's orbit and some 50,000 times fainter than the faintest stars visible to the unaided eye.

The comet's solid nucleus, the source of the whole show, is a dirty space iceberg, probably just a few miles wide. It fell in toward the Sun from the cold and dark outer solar system, originating in a region referred to as the Oort Cloud. As the comet nears the Sun's warmth, some of the ices in its nucleus (water, frozen carbon dioxide, and other volatiles) evaporate. The ensuing haze of sunlit dust and fluorescing gas forms the comet's visible head and streaming tail, which can be many millions of miles long.

In September, Comet Tsuchinshan-ATLAS was visible to the unaided eye before dawn in the Southern Hemisphere, then before dawn in the northern parts of the world, brightening all the while. It swung around the Sun on September 27th and, fortunately for us, enters the Northern Hemisphere's evening sky while still glowing brightly. But as it recedes from both Earth and the Sun, it will dwindle relatively quickly — there's no hope of seeing it with the unaided eye on Halloween evening. It will probably remain visible through binoculars through early November. Its orbit is only weakly gravitationally bound to the Sun, so it will spend future ages coasting ever farther out of the solar system, probably never to return.

TOP IMAGE: The bright Comet Tsuchinshan-ATLAS will first become visible in the evening sky on October 11th, appearing between Antares, the brightest star in the constellation Scorpius, and Arcturus, the brightest star in Boötes. While opening night will have it competing against twilight, it will be both higher in the sky and more visible against darker skies on subsequent evenings. Sky & Telescope illustration

CENTRE IMAGE:

In this image taken from Namibia on September 30th, the comet was positioned over the eastern horizon at dawn. It was as visible to the unaided eye as in the photo. In the days to come, the comet will be visible over the western horizon in the evening. Gerald Rhemann / Michael Jaeger

LOWER IMAGE: This close-up photo of Comet Tsuchinshan-ATLAS, taken from Namibia on September 30th, shows both its ion tail (blue) blown back by the solar wind and the dust tail (white) blown back by the Sun's photons. Gerald Rhemann / Michael Jaeger

[sifu-kisu]

In reality - you really only need to know a single routine. - as long as it addresses the 4 ranges of combat.

Courtesy of Sifu Eric Hargrove

(Sifu Kisu edit)

"Ten Routine Spring Leg"

particularly its positions, skills and exertion of force, which helped me

greatly to further replenish and raise my skills. Due to the instructions given

by the famous masters and through twenty-odd years' practice of my own

while serving the Shaanxi Provincial Wushu Team as a coach, I have realized

that the

"Ten Routine Spring Leg" requires a solid technique with focused

force exertion and rhythmic body coordination. It is a comprehensive

traditional boxing which consists of body work, steps, handwork and foot-

work, together with exertion of force, used either in attacking or in defense.

Indebted to my teachers for their earnest instructions and because of the

persistent practice for several decades by my own, I have accomplished

certain results, which I am writing in this book for reference for the Wushu

lovers.

The Resume of the "Ten

Routine Spring Leg

The "Ten Routine Spring Leg" is a traditional Chinese martial art with a

long history. It was originally one of five major sections in the Northern

school: In ancient China, many pugilists were specialized in this skill, which

spread Far and wide all over China, particularly in Henan, Hebei, Shangung

and Shaanxi provinces, as well as in some overseas lands.

The "Ten Routine Spring Leg" is one of the most favourite sports of the

Hui nationality in our country. As a Chinese Wushu proverb goes:

"From Beijing to Nanjing, the best players of Spring Leg come from the Islam (Hui religion)."

Therefore, some people call it "Huihui Spring Leg"

The founder of the "Ten Routine Spring Leg" was Chashangyir, used to be called

Chamir (1568-1644), a Hui native of Xinjiang, Northwest China in the Ming

Dynasty (1368-1644 AD.).

In the prime of his life, it happened to be the years when the Chinese coast in the Fukien and Zhejiang provinces was harassed by the Japanese pirates. The rulers of the Ming Dynasty massed their troops to resist the enemy. Chamir joined the army and went down to

the south. But as the transport at that time was so poor the troops had to

walk such a long way to the southeast in very harsh conditions. While

climbing mountains and crossing rivers, Chamir contracted bad colds and

was laid up before he could reach the front. He was left behind to

recuperate in a mountain village in Guanxian County, Shangtung Province.

After a few months' treatment he was fully recovered. It was autumn, just

the time when the local peasants finished their harvest and started practising

riding and shooting on their threshing ground. Having seen this, Chamir said

to himself: the village people had looked after me, a stranger from afar, with

meticulous care, shouldn't I do something useful to repay their kindness?

Thereupon, he taught the villagers the "Spring Leg"

and the "Ten Routine Boxing", which had been devised and performed by himself for many years.

These skills were warmly welcomed by the country folk. Thereafter, more

and more people learned this boxing and it spread far and side. Later,

people named the "Ten Routine Boxing" as "Chaquan"',

taking the tirs character "Cha" in Chamir's name. The boxing originally consisted of 28

routines which were put in alphabetical order, according to the Arabic

language which were then commonly used by the Hui nationality. Later, the

28 routines were synthesized into "Ten Routine Spring Leg". So this is the

origin of the "Chaquan" and "Ten Routine Spring Leg"

and it also explains why the birthplace of the "Ten Routine Spring Leg" is Guanxian County, Liaocheng, Shangtung Province.

[khr-guilded-cage]

The art of escapism

In the meantime, Yuka thrived in the art of escapism.

For all she did fought a few of battles, garthered her power and allies, did a little politics, the Vongola demanded and demanded more and she wasnt about to feed a leech.

No matter how many times the Vongola demanded her to stay in Namimori or Italy, to train, and to take her duties as their heir, she simply ignored them, slipping away into a world that was hers to explore. Every time they cornered her, she just laughed, slipping through their fingers.

Leading her would-be pursuers on merry chases, then coming back after a few days or weeks.

They wanted her to stay forever, to never leave, to spend every waking moment by their side. The Vongola demanded all her time, pulling her into their world, forcing her to be constantly present, to stay on the pedestal they had built for her. They wanted her to stop living for herself, to abandon her private life in favor of their endless expectations and personal messes.

But Yuka had a life of her own, one that wasn’t abandoned for the Vongola. She wasn’t willing to surrender herself entirely, not to their plans, not to their pressure. She had her own adventures to live, her own experiences to chase. Her life didn’t begin and end with them. The world was far too vast, too exciting for her to be confined to their pedestal, no matter how much they demanded her presence.

She was not some trophy or a tool to be used, constantly on display for their ambitions. Yuka was carving out a path for herself, and the Vongola would have to accept that she didn’t belong entirely to them. She would go where she wanted, live how she wanted, and they would either learn to respect it or watch as she slipped further away, like the wind they couldn’t catch.

Her adventures weren’t just fleeting—Yuka fully immersed herself in them. Whether it was exploring ancient ruins, climbing towering mountains, or diving into the depths of unknown oceans, she found herself in a constant state of exhilaration, thriving on the adrenaline that only freedom could provide.

Her escapism became an art form—she mastered the art of evasion, playing hide-and-seek with Reborn, Nono, and the rest of the family. They tried everything to bring her back into their fold—coercion, threats, reminders of her responsibilities—but she would always outsmart them. The dark-haired kunoichi wasn’t the type to be trapped by obligations or the legacy. As much as they demanded, she refused to be caged by expectations.

Her travels were many. She wandered from country to country, a shadow in the night, never staying long enough in one place to be caught. One day, she’d be in the bustling streets of Paris, the next, trekking through the jungles of the Amazon. She collected stories like souvenirs, laughing with strangers in distant lands, experiencing life without the burden of rules. Yuka was a wanderer in the truest sense, always seeking something new, something exciting, something far away from the suffocating control of the Vongola.

And yet, the more she ran, the more the Vongola tried to pull her back. They’d send Reborn to track her down, sending cryptic messages and arranging meetings. They’d try to reason with her, speaking of family duty, responsibility, and the future. Yuka would toy with them, making a game out of evading their every attempt, always a step ahead. When Reborn would finally catch up, he would find only an empty room, a trail of laughter in the wind, and a note, teasing him: "Catch me if you can!"

She didn’t need to fight their battles, carry their burdens, or conform to their vision of what an heir should be.

She was learning, evolving, and mastering new skills in her own way. The Uchiha found her own teachers—unconventional, masters who taught her fighting styles rooted in freedom, unpredictability, and stealth. One day, she might be training with a lone warrior in the remote mountains of China, mastering a forgotten martial art. The next day, she could be in the midst of a bustling market in Morocco, exchanging techniques with a street fighter who specialized in using the environment to their advantage. Everywhere she went, she soaked up knowledge like a sponge—no rules, no restrictions. Every fight, every lesson, was a chance to adapt, grow, and reshape herself.

Outside Vongola-approve's grasp and limited teaching, denying Reborn's tutorage no matter how much the petty hitman demanded.

Denying Reborn the title he desired and granting it to every interesting fellow she meet.

"He is unworthy." She answered when asked. "Not even close to gaining my respect."

[maximumwobblerbanditdonut]

Everest or Khumbu is a region of northeastern Nepal on the Nepalese side of Mount Everest. It is part of the Solukhumbu District, which in turn is part of Koshi Pradesh, and was officially named on 1st March 2023, replacing the previous temporary name of Province No. 1.

Mount Everest is part of the huge Himalayan mountain range, which stretches across five countries: Bhutan 🇧🇹 , China 🇨🇳 , India 🇮🇳 , Nepal🇳🇵, and Pakistan 🇵🇰 . Everest itself is located between Nepal and Tibet, marking the northeastern area of Nepal and the southern border of Tibet.

Both Tibet and Nepal also claim Mount Everest and share that distinctive tag of having the highest mountain in the world. Despite these similarities, Tibet and Nepal have remarkable differences. These differences are obvious in their culture, religious practices, topography, weather, travel highlights, travel policies, and the ways of life of their people. You’ll readily notice these similarities and differences if you are going to visit both or either of the two.

The peak was named after British surveyor George Everest in 1856 by The Royal Geographic Society. The story goes that in 1852 Radhanath Sikhdar, a mathematician working for the Great Trigonometrical Survey of India, discovered what he thought was the highest summit in the world. Several years later this was confirmed and, despite the mountain already being called Chomolungma "Goddess Mother of the World" by the Tibetans and Sagarmatha "Goddess of the Sky" by the Nepalese, the British decided to name it after Colonel George Everest, head of the survey (although he was always rather embarrassed by the honour).

Mount Everest, is known as the roof of the world and has come to prominence for more than a century. Previously, it was known as Peak XV. For over 150 years scientists have tried to establish the exact height of Mount Everest. To settle the matter once and for all, Nepal has ordered a new survey of the world's highest mountain.

One of the real dangers on Mt Everest is the crevasses. Deep, hidden cracks in the glacier that can turn deadly in an instant. In some sections, ropes aren't set, and climbers are forced to jump across with crampons, boots, and heavy loads.

Especially on the descent, these jumps can push you to your limits, and one misstep can come at a high price.—Everest is undeniably full of risks, but for you, it's in those intense, adrenaline-fueled moments that You feel most alive. This is the adventure You live for.

There are diferences: Climbing Mount Everest and trekking to Everest Base Camp are about as similar as scuba diving and paddleboarding.

Everest Base Camp is not the same as Mount Everest. Trekking to Everest Base Camp (EBC) and climbing to the summit of Mount Everest are vastly different experiences in terms of difficulty, duration, preparation, and altitude challenges. You can’t compare a base camp trek to a summit climb. One is a 2-week hike and the other one is a project taking years of training, months of preparation, and a mountain of cash.

There are two base camps on Mount Everest, on opposite sides of the mountains: South Base Camp is in Nepal at an altitude of 5,364 metres (17,598 ft), while North Base Camp is in Tibet at 5,150 metres (16,900 ft) while the summit is at the top at 8,849 meters. The base camps are rudimentary campsites at the base of Mount Everest that are used by mountain climbers during their ascent and descent to the top of the mountain. South Base Camp is used when climbing via the southeast ridge, while North Base Camp is used when climbing via the northeast ridge. They are also visited by hikers (Sam, is a hiker on his way to Everest Base Camp not to climb Mt Everest) Everest Base Camp can be for anyone, but with a caveat. It's not a walk in the park, and you'll need to prepare physically and mentally.

Thousands of tourists do that trek every year. New Everest tourists are also not that interested in the mountain, culture or experience. The new Everest tourist is just interested in getting their picture side a rock that says Everest Base Camp.

If your experience consists of just seeing Mount Everest without climbing. You’ll take an overland trip to Everest Base Camp (EBC). The trek to (EBC) doesn't require mountaineering experience or technique. However, You should be fit and active and have put in hours of training required to walk up and down hills for 13 days in a row with a heavy rucksack.

Supposedly SH is doing the Everest Base Camp with a guide and a Porter. He will carry his daypack during the trek, carrying a hydration bladder, a light down (rolled into a pouch), rain jacket, energy bars, medicine kit, and of course wallet and passport. Since he has a Porter to carry his other stuff, He would carry a 30L day pack on the trek. It weighs no more than a 20L backpack and gives you flexibility should you ever want or need to pack more.

Your list for Everest Base Camp would be long - Sunglasses and spare sunglasses, both polarised and preferably glacier glasses. Sunhat, warm beanie. Thin inner gloves, down mittens. Good walking boots or approach shoes. You don't need mountain boots for EBC. Lightweight slip on shoes for when you are in camp. Waterproof jacket and trousers. Down jacket, at least 600 fill power. Walking poles (for stability, to share the work between arms and legs, and to protect your knees)

Base layers, prefer Merino wool for anything close to my skin. It’s comfortable, warm, lightweight, wicking and doesn't smell. You will need 3–4 pairs of underwear, socks (preferably both thick outer and a thinner inner) and T-shirts, and 1 or 2 each of a thin long sleeve top, a pair of long johns (these two you will mainly use as pyjamas until you get above 5,000m) and a thicker jumper. With Merino you can wear each one for several days before it gets smelly. 2 pairs of walking trousers. Alcohol hand gel, toilet paper, soap and towel and a long list.

A trek to Everest base camp is a very realistic opportunity for most people who enjoy the outdoors and have a good level of fitness and stamina.

But, It is not just about fitness it is about the type of fitness and also the cognitive tools you need. EBC involves a lot of your anaerobic energy system and a chunk of your aerobic system. At an elevation of 5364 m, Everest Base Camp is accessible to most people in good health and good physical form.

It is important to build a very strong endurance base to have the correct physical condition for the specific trip you are doing. and understand the specific terrain. Every trip is different. Some trips are mostly all stairs, like Everest Base Camp Trek. Other treks are more trail with different angled terrain. The Everest trail has a lot of stairs and steps up and down and a lot of downhill trekking. For that, it is good to understand this terrain along with the daily elevation gains helps map out what you need to be doing in your training.

The Everest Base Camp trail starts at 9,350 feet (2,850 m ) walking up to Everest Base Camp at 17,598 ft (5,364 m) above sea level typically takes 12/16 days to reach these heights. Despite being a trek which is accessible to most people and not just experienced mountaineers, the trek to EBC should not be underestimated. Trekking in the Himalayas is a serious challenge which requires significant preparation.

You can't see Mount Everest in all angles from Everest Base Camp (EBC): located on the opposite side of the mountain from the summit, so the viewing angle doesn't allow you to see the peak. To see the summit, you need to climb Kala Patthar, a steep hill near EBC. Kala Patthar is included in most EBC trek itineraries.

South Base Camp offers views of the Khumbu Glacier, the world's highest glacier. The scenery at EBC is stunning, and you can see Everest's summit for much of the trek. North Base Camp offers an unobstructed view of Everest.

Distances are not as important as the elevation gains you will encounter on the trail. It is crucial to understand both the elevation changes and the number of hours you will be exercising each day. Every day's hike involves approximately 500 mt (1,640 feet) of elevation gain, so you need to be comfortable training with a weighted rucksack for these types of climbs daily.

Hiking through mountainous terrain can be a long and challenging journey. Some people tend to underestimate the mountains and overestimate their abilities. Additionally, they may lack proper training or preparation if they fail to pay attention to essential details, including acclimatisation. Trekking is generally considered safe, but there are risks such as altitude sickness. Unfortunately, illness can also play a significant role, as getting sick at an inconvenient time during the expedition can hinder progress. Altitude sickness affects individuals differently, and some are luckier than others in avoiding it. As one ascends, particularly above 11,500 feet, the body requires more time to produce red blood cells to adapt to the higher elevation.

The distances can be up to 21km (13 miles) a day. Most days are less than this. You must be used to walking these kinds of distances regularly with added weight in your rucksack to give better conditioning to your legs at sea level or at home. Adding extra weight to your rucksack at home will push your body harder and give you better conditioning for when you start Trekking above 10,000 feet.

Experience at altitude can prepare you for these conditions, but training at sea level no matter how hard, gives you no idea how you will cope with the trek. Hiking to the base camp is an incredible experience that might make you want to go back and try to summit one day.

Nonetheless, Going from Base Camp to the summit of Mt Everest is something entirely different! Can take up to two months. One needs to be extremely fit, very well acclimatised, in excellent health and have a good sponsor to do that. Most who try are forced to return without reaching the summit many die in the attempt due to extreme weather conditions, technical challenges, and more. If you have not been to high altitude before then don’t even think about it.

Climbing Mount Everest is a much more intense and time-consuming expedition than trekking to Everest Base Camp: Everest Base Camp is at a more manageable altitude of 5,380 meters above sea level, while the summit is at 8,848 meters. This is very, very high. Much higher than any mountain in California or Colorado or the Alps.

Reaching Mount Everest is an extraordinary personal achievement, but having the wrong mindset can overshadow that experience. If you focus on competitive expectations—like who reaches base camp first or how many days it takes compared to others—or if you are driven by commercialisation and the desire for publicity in the race to the summit or base camp, this mindset can lead to disappointment by the end of your trek.

It is unthinkable to approach the summit of the world's highest mountain or to arrive at Everest Base Camp with a haughty and self-centred attitude. The Mt. Everest region is filled with expeditions from various countries, and each climber and/ or trekker carries their dreams.

Don't try to be a hero, on the EBC trek. You must rely on your guides. Sherpas are the true heroes of Everest, working in extreme conditions. It is shocking to see how little experience some people have when an expedition goes wrong on Mount Everest or when trekking to Everest Base Camp. Many fail to observe the best ways to minimise the dangers involved in such challenges.

So in short, the two don't even compare.

This trek into Ama Dablam has it all. Culture, adventure and world class mountain viewing for people who want to enjoy the best of the Everest region along with making the trekking days shorter.

How do supplies get to Everest Base Camp?

Supplies are transported to Mount Everest Base Camp in a variety of ways. All equipment and belongings have to be carried this distance by porters, yaks, mules or helicopter 🚁 carrying your load towards Namche bazaar in Syangboche of Solukhumbu district to the Mount Everest base camp.

PORTERS

Sherpa porters carry loads of equipment up the mountain. They also play a role in waste removal. If you moved into Everest Base Camp for weeks need a constant supply of goods. You burn fuel, eat food and use up supplies. You also generate rubbish and solid human waste – all of which is removed from Base Camp under the supervision of the S.P.C.C. – the Sagarmatha Pollution Control Commission. In the Everest Region, no roads – just footpaths – So with no wheeled transport, you rely upon other forms of transportation to get the goods.

Porters are an important part of the supply chain and waste removal system. In the old days, we had “Sherpa Mail Runners” who carried letters and dispatched messages by foot to and from Base Camp. These days you tend to rely more on the internet to communicate, but it is still possible to get items delivered from Kathmandu by Sherpa Runner in less than three days. The items are flown from Kathmandu to Lukla where they are picked up by a “runner” and carried to you.

YAKS

Instead of using runners, you use yaks when possible. Yaks are constantly moving in and out of Base Camp. They are an important member of any adventures team in Nepal who deliver supplies to people at Base Camp. Often when you trek in Nepal, yaks accompany you playing a very significant role in allowing you to maintain your high level of comfort at camp.

Yaks are constantly moving supplies to and from Base Camp. Some of the yaks arriving at Base Camp

TEA HOUSES

Small hotel-like dwellings along the trails provide food and lodging for trekkers. It is important to consider, that It’s not the best idea to drink alcohol when trekking at high altitudes. Most teahouses sell alcohol so availability is not a problem or if you carry your whisky flask with you ( it would not be a surprise if Sam brought his whisky, which seems his custom business card) However, it is recommended to avoid alcohol once you get above 3,000m. If you prefer to have some alcohol, you can have some until Namche Bazaar then after you better not drink alcohol as it is gregarious** You may get AMS (Altered Mental Status) and other problems. Avoiding alcohol is not mandatory but if you can is better for your safety.

Staying in tea houses is an enriching experience as the Everest highway (as popularly known) is visited by trekkers from many countries On your days of trekking, you get various opportunities to interact with them, sitting around the dining area with much-needed chimneys keeping all of you warm.

Namche Bazaar (3,500 m) is the staging point for expeditions to Everest and other Himalayan peaks in the area. Located in Khumbu Pasanglhamu Rural Municipality in Solukhumbu District of Koshi Province in northeastern Nepal.

After a long day of trekking, a warm teahouse with hot food is just the ticket!

Almost all teahouses have a kitchen. The good news is most food is vegetarian and gluten-free. The main dish in Nepal is Dhal Bhat, (Nepalese Lentil Curry) which is lentil soup with rice. It is no surprise that this dish of plant-based nutrition is what fuels climbers and trekkers in the most strenuous environment in the world: carbs, protein, fibre, vegetables, vitamins, and spices. It is the most perfectly balanced meal.

Nepali Dal Bhat is the national dish of Nepal. It is simple everyday dal served with rice - a comforting and delicious dish to serve any time of the day.

HELICOPTERS

There are helicopters at Base Camp every day – even on our bad weather days. They are flying for all kinds of reasons, but it is not impossible to get a much-needed item of communications equipment or medical supplies on one of the flights. There are two separate landing zones at Base Camp now, one in the lower sections of Base Camp and one high, right next to the icefall.

📍Sam's adventure doesn't take him to the summit of Mount Everest but along the trail to Everest Base Camp. He will be trekking to an altitude of 17,000 feet above sea level, which is the height of Everest Base Camp in Nepal, while the peak of Mount Everest itself reaches 29,032 feet. He will spend several days in this unfamiliar area, but his journey will not go above the base camp.

High Altitude trekking brings a few challenges, but nothing that being very aware of your own abilities and condition won’t make easier. It’s not a race, people will overtake you, people will drift behind as you walk along the trail, but don’t be afraid to take an extra rest day if you feel the altitude getting to you, Don’t try and stick to a plan to much, but feel exhausted, then stay the night in one place. There is no hurry in the Himalayas.

"If you're thinking of trekking to Everest Base Camp, good luck!"

—————–

Note:

** gregarious ——Anyone who has read Jon Krakauer's famous account of the 1996 Everest disaster, INTO THIN AIR, will remember the story of Beck Weathers: the gregarious Texan climber who went snow-blind in the Death Zone below the summit and who spent a night out in the open during a blizzard that took the lives of a dozen colleagues and friends. A best-selling account of the expedition was dramatised in the 2015 film Everest.

Posted 15th December 2024

[the-californicationist]

The Good Death -- (Rudy/FMC)

Rodolfo Parra x Female OC

Sergeant Major Rodolfo Parra finds himself in the middle of the Caatinga forest of Brazil, looking for a stolen weapons cache. When he comes across a beautiful hitch-hiker wandering alone in the middle of the night, he gets a little more from the village than he wants to.

TW: mentions of rape, dubious consent, femdom, light bondage, edgeplay, kidnapping, canon-typical violence, hauntings

January summers in the Caatinga forest were as brutal as they came. It was an unforgiving landscape, full of cactus and scrub brush, layered with the sharpest shards and rock faces, designed to cut and slice. To make matters worse, the weather was deadly. The Caatinga would climb to almost 37 degrees celsius at the sun’s cruel zenith, and it would drop only ten degrees cooler by midnight. 

Sergeant Major Rodolfo Parra was nothing but sweaty. He could feel it between his toes, under his arms, beneath his balls — he was losing pounds of water a day and struggling to drink enough to rehydrate himself. Training in these conditions was brutal, but he wasn’t here for the Exército Brasileiro; he was on a reconnaissance mission.

According to Los Vaqueros’ intel, the Las Almas cartel had accepted a weapons’ cache from China, shipped through Brazil, and set to arrive at the Port of Houston in just thirty days. Rudy’s mission was to locate and tag the cache, and he was running out of time. 

Being asked to find something lost in the Caatinga was like being tasked with finding it in Hell, although, Rudy thought, Hell may have been milder.

Arial arrays had helped him narrow down his search to a few key hiding places, but it wasn’t just the terrain that was unforgiving. Beneath the forest lay a complex network of caves and tunnels, as dangerous as they were beautiful, and searching through them would be almost impossible. 

But, Rudy wasn’t one to give up so easily. He was heading to the village of Nossa Senhora da Boa Morte. There was a local guide who had seen some unmarked crates near a gorge in the area, and he had agreed to lead Rudy to them. The drive out to the village was long, pitch black, and full of foreign sounds. Rudy missed his well-known mountains of Monterrey, and he was anxious to be back with his team. 

Suddenly, his truck lurched to a stop, and it felt like he had hit something big. 

“A la verga!” Rudy grunted, slamming on the brakes. 

He wrenched open the door with a loud creak and went out to check the damage. He kept one hand on his gun just to be safe. There was nothing in the road. He circled the truck just to be sure. All of his tires were in tact, and they all seemed free of damage, so he got back in the car and shut the door with a loud bang. 

As soon as he did, something flashed, white and sharp, in the road. It was almost like lightning, but there was no rain and no sound. He could only hear the idling of his vehicle. As he stared at the road illuminated by his headlights, Rudy tried to focus his vision. He thought he could see something just in the shadow of where his headlights couldn’t reach. 

He drove forward, slowly, inching his way up to the object, only to discover that it was a human form. A woman. She was facing away from his truck, staring out into the blackness of the Caatinga, unmoving. Her dress was long and white like a bride’s, whipping around her body in the night wind. 

Rudy rolled down his window, trying out what little Brazilian Portuguese he had,

“Ei! Precisa ajuda, senhora?”

She didn’t answer him. He decided to stay in the truck, crossing himself before slowly driving up to her. He kept his window cracked and pulled out his gun, steadying his nerves.

The woman turned to look at him, and she seemed… unnatural, somehow. She was beautiful, that much was certain. In fact, Rudy wasn’t sure he’d ever seen such beauty. 

“Precisa de uma carona? A ride? Do you need help?”

Perhaps she didn’t understand his terrible Portuguese accent. He tried to ask her in English, and she smiled. It was unnerving, but Rudy didn’t feel threatened. He pointed to the other side of the truck and unlocked the door. She walked around the front of the truck, the white of her linen dress blinding him, and she climbed in beside him. He kept his gun in his lap. Rudy may not have felt like he was in danger, but he certainly wasn’t trusting. 

They rode in silence for the rest of the journey. He had tried to ask her things, and he wasn’t sure where he was supposed to be taking her, but he planned to ask his guide to translate when he got to the village. 

It felt like hours had passed, but they finally made it. Rudy pulled into the small ranch where his contact was located, and he stepped out of the truck. He knocked on the small wooden door of the house and waited, angling himself so he could still see the woman in the passenger seat. 

The guide came to the door, and Rudy recognized him from the video calls.

“Boa noite, meu amigo. I’m Rodolfo Parra with Los Vaqueros.”

“Claro. Good evening, Senhor Parra. I’m João. Welcome to our village. Come in, come in.”

João’s English was excellent, so Rudy didn’t continue with his Portuguese, but he did ask for help, 

“Sorry, can you help me translate? I seemed to have picked up a hitch-hiker and —”

“A what?” João seemed confused. 

“A rider. She is in the truck…” Rudy turned around and found no one there. 

She was gone.

“There was a woman…” Rudy ran back to the truck and opened the doors, looking for her. 

“A woman, you said? Was she wearing a white dress?” João asked in a knowing tone.

Rudy turned back to him, his eyes glassy and wide,

“Yes, but…”

“You showed her a kindness, amigo. Perhaps she will show one back to you.”

“Who is she?” Rudy asked, taking his bags into the tiny ranch house.

João shut the door behind him and ushered him inside. They sat at the kitchen table together, and the old wooden chair creaked loudly, complaining about Rudy’s heavy weight, his muscles and bones not meant for small farm chairs. 

João took a bottle of cachaça from the pantry and poured some for himself and his guest, telling Rudy the story,

“She is a bruxa. Long ago, back during the times when there was still conflict, much before either of us could celebrate um dia da Independência, there was a beautiful woman. She was so beautiful, some say she had been blessed by the Virgim Maria herself. She fell in love with a native man, but he was Tupi, not Portuguese. So, thinking she was fair game, a priest raped her on her wedding day in the chapel on the hillside.”

“Madre de Dios…” Rudy drank his wine, only half-believing this ghost story. The woman in his truck had been very real. She had smelled like sweat and dried herbs. She was real; she had to be.

“She died, and her Tupi lover was slain. The next night, the chapel burned to the ground with the priest inside. Ever since then, this village has respected her as an omen. She does not appear often, but when she does, we make sure to heed her warnings.”

“What warning does she have for me, then?” Rudy asked.

“Eu não sei, senhor. But, whatever it is, you’d better listen.”

A week passed like a slow train, long and heavy, the heat and the pressure billowing around Rudy and all of his attempts to locate the cache. He was running out of options. There was one final location he’d not yet checked, but it was nearly inaccessible. Rudy asked João how to traverse the ridge that led to the potential site, but he wouldn’t allow it.

João shook his head,

“No, you cannot go there. It is too dangerous, even for you who knows the mountains well.”

“I have to. This is my last chance,” Rudy insisted.

“You’d be better off coming in from above. Use your expensive drone! I can draw you a map up, but you won’t be able to come back down. The rocks are too brittle. No one has survived.”

“I don’t have a choice, amigo.”

João sighed, but he produced a map anyway. He also loaded Rudy down with supplies and equipment, in hopes that some of it would keep him alive. 

It took Rudy most of the morning to even reach the first flat part of the large ravine. He decided not to make camp, eager to complete the climb. Unfortunately, it was near dark until he made it to the next stopping point, a small cave cut out in the side of the large, gray gorge. 

There was something so beautiful about how haunting it was in the Caatinga, but Rudy couldn’t help but feel like he was being watched the whole time he made his ascent. He camped for the night, and tried to rest as much as he could. 

When he awoke, he was shocked by his surroundings. The daylight revealed that it was not a small cave at all but the opening to a wide, hellish pit. If he had rolled over in the night, he may not have woken up at all. Rudy crossed himself, gathering his gear and heading back to the ridgeline. 

The cache was there, right where he thought it would be, and right where João had spotted it as well. They must have used a helicopter to drop it in, and Rudy saw the large metal clip had been cut instead of detached. How they planned to get it out, he had no idea. They’d dropped it in a hell of a hurry, though.

Rudy planted the tracking devices, hiding them as best he could, and then surveyed his downward climb. He tried to get his footing on the craggy rockface, balancing himself on the sharp shards, but to no avail. Once he started to apply his weight to his foot, the rock would crack and crumble beneath his toes. 

Hours went by, and he’d barely made it fifty yards down the cliff. It would be nightfall soon, and if he was stuck out there climbing in the dark, his chances of survival were low. The climbing anchors were unstable, and he’d needed too many of them, making the cliff unpredictable and unsafe. 

Rudy spotted a shallow, flat ledge just below him. If he could just make it there, he might be able to rest long enough to try again. 

He placed another anchor, and when he released his grip, he fell. The last thing he saw was the carabiner snap as he tumbled into the darkness.

“Ah, you are awake,” a voice called out to him in the darkness. 

Rudy tried to open his eyes. His ears were ringing, and it felt like a hammer was pounding into his head. He was in agony, and for some reason, immobile.

He tried to sit up, his eyes adjusting to the light. But, he was tied down. As he regained more of his consciousness, he realized that he was trapped on a long, wooden table. Above him, old lanterns glowed dimly in the night, and there were wooden beams that arched upwards into a high ceiling. 

Rudy gasped when he felt a cool compress soak down the back of his neck. It was her, he knew it. He could smell her scent; that sage and vanilla. The woman in white… the bruxa.

Her hands traveled up his spine, pressing the wet cloth hard against the base of his head and then around to the scratchy stubble on his jaw. Rudy felt the sting of adrenaline rush through his body as his eyes followed her, wide with anticipation. She’d stripped him bare, and his skin glowed in the low firelight, illuminating shining scars and old tattoos. As she circled him, stalking around him, she traced the outlines of them; his Los Vaqueros tattoo on his arm, the Virgin Mary on his back. She never took her hands off of his body until finally, she came around the front of him so he could see her in full view.

“What’s your name?” Rudy asked, trying to buy himself some time. His captive training kicked into high gear. 

“I have had many names. First, their god named me Eve. Then, his people named me Lilith. Then, their children named me as a demon. What would you like to name me, Rodolfo Parra?”

“Whatever you want. Please, let me go,” he bargained with her, looking around for anything useful.

“You will go…” She grabbed his face roughly, “When I am done with you.”

“Okay,” Rudy breathed in a low whisper, his voice husky and dark, “Okay. Whatever you want.”

She let out a warm hum of approval, seeming to enjoy his surrender. She smiled, kissing him full on the lips, letting him taste coconut and cinnamon and that same familiar sage that haunted him in his truck. 

“You are what I want, Rodolfo… What will you say to that? Can I still have… whatever I want?”

Rudy swallowed, his spit thick in his mouth, tasting her flavor as it slid down his throat. He nodded,

“Y-yes.”

She didn’t respond with her words. Instead, she mounted him on his wooden altar and all around him, hundreds of candles suddenly came alight, dousing the room in an orange, unearthly glow.

He gasped, and she slapped her palm across his mouth, stopping his breath from escaping. His eyes tracked her every movement. Rudy had never been so captivated by a beauty like hers. It had been a while since any woman had even touched him, and he couldn’t deny that he was hungry for whatever she had in store for him — no matter how occult it was. 

“Just a little fun, meu amor. You honored me by taking me back to my village. So many men drive right by, fearful of a woman… or what they may do to one… but not you,” she pet his cheek softly, releasing his mouth, “Were you not afraid?”

Rudy shook his head, following her lips with his, letting her kiss him languidly. He sighed,

“No, I am not afraid of you.”

“Many are,” she moved her mouth down his throat, planting little warm kisses across his jugular vein, over his bulging Adam’s apple, down his chest matted with hair, sweaty and filthy from his climb. 

He tugged at the straps across his wrist, threatening to touch her, his desire building, 

“I don’t scare easy, bella.”

She laughed at him, but there was no malice in it. If anything, she seemed amused. Then, to Rudy’s sudden shock, she began to rub the wetness between her legs back and forth over his nearly-hard cock, smearing herself all over him. She was still in her dress, but because of the candlelight behind her, Rudy was treated to a nearly transparent view through it. 

She dragged her soft folds up and down his dick, slicking his swollen head and sliding back down his generous shaft, pulling and pushing at his velvety, uncut skin. His breathing became more than labored; he was feral. He wanted to touch her so badly. 

“Porfa, bella.” Please, pretty girl. He begged her, “Dejame tocarte.” Let me touch you.

“You are touching me, Rodolfo Parra,” she laughed again, throwing her head back and humping herself across him at a quicker pace, torturing him with her softness, feeling the way he shamelessly bucked his hips up toward her. 

Then, she lifted away from him, leaving him only to feel the cool rush of air as it skated across his sensitive skin.

He gasped,

“No, please…”

“Shh, shh, shh…” She ran her hand down his cheek again and kissed his mouth, letting him explore her tongue with his, tasting each other in sloppy, lurid movements.

“Please, please…” He couldn’t help but beg her. He was so close, and she had yanked him away from the edge. 

One of her hands snaked its way between her legs, reaching for him to jerk him off. The other pulled down the top of her dress, exposing her breasts to him. She wasn’t sure if the face he was making came from her touch or her display, but she didn’t care. She leaned forward just enough for him to barely reach her nipple, taking just the peak into his mouth, straining for more. 

Then, he let his long tongue loll out of his jaws and loop itself around her tight nub, teasing her and making her gasp from her own pleasure. 

Every time he would get close to the edge, he could feel his cock swell with pressure, setting itself up to shoot its heavy load, she would immediately stop everything she was doing. Eventually, he became a grunting, whimpering mess. Everything she did turned him on. She licked down the center of his chest and it made his cock twitch. When she kissed him on the neck, he thought he might come from just that if she didn’t have such a cruel grip around his cockhead. 

Finally, she lowered herself onto him fully, letting his head pop gently into her soaking hole, and then… she just settled herself there. She didn’t rock forward or back; there was nothing but infinite warmth cascading over him like the fires of all of the candles around him. He was burning alive within her core. 

“Mi amor! Porfa!” He whined, his voice high and ragged, steeped in pure desperation. 

Each chance he got to thrust up inside of her, he took, greedily. But, every bit of reprieve was doled out to him by her, his new master. She was in full control of his pleasure, nearly to the point of pain. His balls were tucked so tight up against his body, he thought they would crush themselves into nothing, desperate to be emptied.

“Do you need to come, Rodolfo?”

“Yes! Please!” Rudy thrashed at his bindings, trying in vain to fuck her with what little leverage that he could, making little noises of discomfort and defeat as she held him steady, “Mmgh, ungh… please… ahh…”

“That’s too bad…” She pretended pity with her tone, removing him from her body and laughing at his screaming protests.

“No! No, please! Don’t… don’t leave me. Porfa, bella, it aches…”

“Your complaints are so loud, tsk tsk… Is that any way to treat your bride?” She chided him playfully, showing him a sinister smile before turning her hips and positioning them over his mouth. 

She slowly lowered herself down onto his lips, and he began to eat her with a feral passion. Still, he was begging. By working his jaw against her as fervently as he could, he was making a case for himself, trying to show her that he would be good for her, that he could make her come. He shoved his tongue against her flesh with a furious need, fucking her as best he could with it and tasting himself on her skin. 

Rudy could feel her muscles clenching for him, and her skin warmed. Then, he heard her delicious cries, shouted out in complete abandon, echoing across the high ceilings and reverberating back to him, trapping him in a cycle of her pleasure. It was so overwhelming that he felt himself falling over his edge as well, coming into nothing, heavy ropes of his own fluids pooling onto his chest and belly, settling in his navel, sticking in his hair. 

When he awoke, he did so with a start. He found himself back in the farmhouse, the sun beaming through the filthy windows. João was standing at the foot of his bed in shock. 

Rudy was unsettled by his presence, but could only stare back in confusion. 

“Amigo…” João whispered, “You are alive?”

Rudy swung his legs over the edge of the bed, finding himself completely dressed. He turned to João and asked him, 

“What happened? What day is it?”

“You… well, you were lost. It had been three days, and we thought the worst. Your friend, Colonel Vargas is here now to collect your things.”

Alejandro stood in the doorway, his eyes red and full of a particular sort of fear and relief all at the same time. He pulled Rudy up into his arms,

“Hermano! What happened?”

“There was a woman… she…” Rudy tried to explain, but he couldn’t. He was having a hard time even remembering what had happened to him. 

But then, he could taste her. He could smell her. He could feel her skin as it slid across his. Everything about her surrounded him until he was dizzy.

“Ah! A woman? Well, that explains it. Vamos, you have a fuckin’ mountain of paperwork, pendejo. Haha! A woman… Dios mio…” Alejandro laughed his way out into the hall.

João and Rudy stayed in the small bedroom, staring at each other, knowing the truth yet unable to speak it.  

Reblogs and comments deeply appreciated!

AO3 Link

[commajade]

hi im trying to learn more abt north korean refugees from the korean war or more generally conditions in north korea during the war and its been like...rly challenging to find resources since the search engines will conflate them with defectors and what resources i do find tend to be "there were north koreans refugees. there were alot...a lot of them died...some did not" and not about why they fled or what was happening in north kroea at the time. i can make inferences from what i do know, but i was wondering if you had any resources or recommendations on where i could look since ive found ur dprk resources super informative & helpful in the past!

hello!

during the war, there was not yet a concept of a korean person being from the north or the south and that's probably a reason why you can't find specific resources if you're searching in that direction. generally, refugees fled to manchuria, china, russia, and japan. they tried to farm in these regions, tried to become educated and learn skills and crafts, and/or were part of anticolonial organizing efforts. the migrations to these areas began much before the war and there were sizable korean populations in these regions as early as the late 1800s and the 1910s.

a notable example is find very interesting is that there were enough communist koreans in russia and climbing the political ranks of the government at the beginning of the 20th century that in 1937, stalin had every korean person rounded up and sent to central asia (kazakhstan, uzbekistan, etc) under suspicion of them being japanese spies. which i personally think inspired the US to create japanese internment camps.

my understanding is that the borders to manchuria and china were not heavily enforced before the war and military occupation of the area so it was very common for people in the northern areas of the korean peninsula to travel back and forth for trade and live across the border for agricultural conditions.

for wartime conditions in the region, the northern half of the peninsula was bombed more severely than the southern half and the southernmost tip of the land is the only area where the trees on mountains are the original ones and not newly planted after the war (usually by the park chunghee administration). agriculture is more difficult in the north because of the terrain and the majority of the flat and fertile farming soil is in the jeolla province so the north was more likely to develop communist style industry, so the U.S. focused on flattening any man made infrastructure in the area. many people fled across borders and many people hid in caves in the mountains because the peninsula is very mountainous with many caves. for resources, i don't have anything more specific than what's already in my dprk tag! check the dprk study guide for further reading.

overall, many people fled korea from the late 1800s to after the war in the 1950s because of japanese labor exploitation and cultural persecution, artificially produced famine conditions because of japanese resource exploitation and then the effect of the U.S. bombings on the environment, and the sheer death and destruction of the bombings and ground military troops.

hope this is helpful and lmk if u have more specific questions i can answer!

[ionlymadethissoicouldleaveanask]

In the nook of a valley that looked like it was ripped straight out of a postcard for “Adventurer’s Paradise,” Vannak-134 and Riz-028 stood awkwardly side by side. The scene was something out of a nature documentary, except the majestic beasts here were two supersoldiers in state-of-the-art MJOLNIR armor, not exactly blending in with the scenery.

Vannak, towering and clad in dark blue that screamed 'I’m here to party, but also I might accidentally demolish your house,' wore his EOD-variant helmet like it was part of his skull. Riz, on the other hand, was a study in black and subtlety, her armor sleek and adorned with a helmet that was more 'mysterious avenger from a sci-fi serial' than 'standard issue.' Those antennas on her head? They screamed 'I'm listening to your secrets, but also, I can't get good radio reception here.'

They were supposed to be scouting, or patrolling, or some other military term that meant 'walk around and make sure nothing explodes.' But there they were, staring at a waterfall as if it held the secrets of the universe, or at the very least, the secret to breaking the ice and admitting, "Hey, I kinda like you."

"Bet I can beat you to the top," Vannak said, breaking the silence with all the subtlety of a grenade in a china shop. His voice had that deep, rumbling quality, the kind that in ancient times made people think, 'Yep, that’s a leader,' or 'Maybe he’s a god,' but now just made Riz roll her eyes so hard she might've seen her brain.

Riz turned, her posture all 'challenge accepted,' but with an air of 'I’m also judging you.' "Wanna bet?" she threw back, her tone light, her dialect crisp with a hint of mockery, as if she was saying, 'Oh, we're doing this again? Alright, Shakespeare.'

The air between them, usually charged with the electricity of unspoken things and the lingering question of 'What are we, really?' was now laced with the anticipation of their ridiculous challenge. It was their thing, finding the most absurd ways to compete because apparently, talking about feelings was too mainstream.

"Okay, hotshot," Vannak chuckled, the sound muffled by his helmet, "loser buys dinner. And not just any dinner, but something from the black market of the mess hall."

Riz’s laugh cut through the sound of the waterfall. It was clear, almost musical, if music was made by sarcastic supersoldiers. "Deal. But when I win, I want one of those steaks you swear are 'just as good as real meat.' You know, the ones you talk about with the same reverence most people reserve for holy relics."

"You’re on," Vannak shot back, his stance ready, like a knight of old, if knights were into futuristic armor and making bets instead of jousting. "Prepare to be disappointed when it's your turn to raid the kitchen."

They squared up at the base of the cliff, the tension palpable, if you ignored the fact that this was all over a race to the top of a waterfall. "Ready to eat my dust?" Riz taunted, bouncing on the balls of her feet like a boxer ready to enter the ring."In your dreams," Vannak retorted, with the confidence of a man who has absolutely no idea if he can actually make good on his words.

Then, they were off, scrambling up the cliffside like two oversized mountain goats with an affinity for heavy metal—music or armor, take your pick. They climbed, occasionally slipping in their haste, the sound of their armor clanking against rock mixing with the constant roar of the waterfall. It was a symphony of chaos, a testament to their stubbornness and perhaps, a metaphor for their approach to personal issues—climb first, think later.

Halfway up, Riz nearly lost her grip, her foot slipping on a wet rock. Vannak reached out, grabbing her arm in a move that was part knight in shining armor, part 'oh no, we’re both going to die.' For a second, they locked visors, the world narrowing down to this moment of accidental intimacy.

"Thanks," Riz muttered, yanking her arm back like it was on fire, her tone a mix of gratitude and 'I'll never live this down.'

"Don't mention it," Vannak replied, his voice a weird blend of smug and genuinely concerned, like a puppy that's just saved its owner from tripping but also kinda caused it in the first place.

The race resumed, with more caution this time, as if they’d both been reminded that, yes, gravity still existed and, no, their armor couldn’t fly. When they finally reached the top, panting and probably a few dignity points lighter, they collapsed side by side, looking out over the valley below.

"So, about that dinner…" Riz started, breaking the comfortable silence.

"We'll see," Vannak replied, his tone light, but his unspoken words heavy with the promise of more than just a meal....

This was excellent. Your gift for imagery continues to astound me, and the ridiculousness of this event was so fun! I love the idea that Riz and Vannak are so bad at talking that they’d rather beat each other up than ask each other on a date.

The pining is adorable and the competition is even better. I loved it all.