#like no thoughts or wishes or autonomous anything

[thepettymachine]

Ashley was no longer interested in the relationship and decided to end it.

Vincent was heartbroken.

[the-monkeies-girl]

Thick as Thieves. ( Noa x Human!Reader. ) Part Fourteen.

*banging my pots and pans* getting bETTEr

Title: Thick as Thieves. Fandom: ( Kingdom of the ) Planet of the Apes. Rating: T. ( Injury, mentions of blood, heavy mentions of sexual implications. ) Pairing: Noa x Human!Reader. Words: 9.5K ( WHO ALLOWED THIS ) Summary: Approval was a big part of Ape culture; Noa sought it from his Father and never got it in return. What now as he held himself in animation to get approval from his own Mother and then you, his Echo? READ THE SERIES HERE.

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His body felt unable to do anything more the moment that Dar and Soona tore you from his embrace, nothing but the shattered remains of sediment and your blood catching against his body in that glimpse of terror he wished to never re-live. The lifeless cling you had to Soona, your voice nothing more than a gashed memory to Noa as you forgave her with kindness for… Never coming back, your hand grasped hers tightly out of wanted support, Soona’s face softened as you embraced her before green eyes met Noa’s in understanding. There it was, he thought to himself, the time that those around him began to understand the irrationality that ran through their Leader to save what they considered to be just another Echo.You understood as she placed you gently on the ground, your face contorting into pain that Noa wanted to bare for you… How he wanted to, heart dropping itself into the bowels of his navel. 

Was this the unsaturated embodiment of… Empathy…? 

Noa tilted his head minutely and felt the flood of affliction from your limbs to his own like it was secondary nature to feel what you felt, Dar and Soona moving quickly to analyze the extent of damage done from the crown of your delicately placed head against the flushed leaves of the forest floor littered with moss and colored leaves as the season was on the very brink of changing, down the curved points of your body itself, Noa tearing his eyes away for only a moment when your thinned and carded shirt was torn off and placed to the forefront the darkened and nearly black bruises that were forming against the skin that he himself wanted nothing more than to sink his sharp canines into; but now… They were kissed with Death itself and Noa felt a surge of aggravated annoyance rush through him. 

How bad was it? He was unable to hear words from Soona or Dar, their hands pressing as softly as a morning dew against a petaled flower, but you cried out, more crimson from your mouth as it fell down the side, tracing the outer lines of your ear before one by one it began dripping onto the ground below you.There was a shared look between them as Soona signed a muted ‘inside damage’ towards Noa’s mother who nodded it the utmost agreement. It was apparent from their demeanor that it was dubbed the highest of priorities, Noa finally letting himself look back at your bare chest save for the fabric of your bra; an item that never made sense to him but now he was thankful for he wanted to be blessed with seeing your breasts only when you were ready to show him. You were breathing slowly, rested and unsure if the next one was going to cause more affliction to the skin that he could see. 

Noa felt himself shuddering at that. No longer did the pain in his own form matter. What was yours became his own, the coating of innate sensationalized suffering riding through him like a horse through an open field. Marking your torso as checked by the two Female Apes, your legs required less attention. The evident nature of the mangled skin, the tearing apart of tendons. It would take months, if not more to heal if Noa recalled your last injury correctly and applied the correct equation to the damage done this time around. Months… Noa looked at your legs and felt his jaw tighten itself together, canines coming to rest autonomically in the gums that allotted the position of them. 

Noa… Would wait years if he had to, no other option for a mate existed for him. No other… He wanted to protect and to provide for the rest of his life, no other he wished to share himself with in the heightened sunless nights. 

Noa’s mouth parted, his jaw slacking forward as he collected what little remained of his own sustained breathing out of wrought and acute determination. Empathy… He felt towards you, beaten to an inch of your life as you ran a parallel line to each other but never merged until the moment you were brought back to him. It was disgusting to even indulge in the thought but Noa found it difficult to shove it aside. 

How, somewhere in the larger scape of things, if that was even the case, you were always meant to yell at him, to slur your words and he was always meant to brittly crush your bones between his fingers in a means to defend himself against your phrase. You were always meant to leave, but you were always meant to return to him such as Eagle Sun did day in and day out.. Always destined to share in the same fight; Noa was never a full believer in that despite the Elders instilling in him from a young age that things did happen for a reason, but the reason would only become clear when you lost the purpose to begin with. It… all made sense now. 

Noa had almost lost you, he still could, that idea tugged at the very crevices of his mind that he was trying to ignore despite common place occurrences of Death surrounding the Earth… And even though the moment of clarity happened at the embankment of your meeting place and was never uttered beyond that of inflictions against phrases, the stream that blessed the land with opulence carried the hushened noises of both of you to one another. 

He was so refusant in seeing that as the true intent; he bargained against it for months. The Ape was always meant to share his life with another, but it wasn’t brought to light that the other half he had been searching for in the darkness just happened to be the whispering of an echo that reverberated off the walls of Echo ruins. A call to the slotted ideals that shattered in on themselves once they were touched with the sound when you made the pre-chosen decision to stay at the Clan.

The very Master of the Eagles was helpless, propped against the hardened bark of the tree trunk as he watched them, his mouth ghosting over words he rehearsed time and time again but had yet to get the chance to whisper to you, dirtied and oh so incredibly tired as the blistering in his shoulder became more evident in the lack of adrenaline that shot through the svelte muscles that lined his bones. Noa could just drift into a fitless sleep now, knowing you were in the care of his Sunset sister, so gentle with you and his Mother, the stability in his life when he was torn to ashes himself much like the remains of the village. 

There would be a time the ideas he had would could to light, the phrases he wanted to say would be breathed so delicately into your ear as fingers tangled themselves into hair and fur alike and Noa shifted his entire body weight above yours into flashed white heat, hotter than that of any fire that had ever burned since the Rise three-hundred some odd years ago.

The Ape chanted in his mind as it became his new mantra; he would tell you when you woke up. The agony he went through not to tell you when you asked, the torment Noa wanted to feel himself knowing that he may not even get the chance; was it worth it? When your gaze sustained his own and you were clenching to the familiarity of safety, love and you were no longer cusping at the life you wanted… No, Noa corrected himself there, the life that you two deserve to have together. Was it worth it to wait?

It… was but at the same time it wasn’t.

There would be no need to hold onto the tightrope anymore, for either party. The game of Chess that neither of you truly understood how to play from the beginning would come to an end, the Queen always destined to win and climb her way to the top, even if it meant dragging her King along. Noa… Drew a deep breath in, feeling the rumbling of his own wheeze drizzle against the back of his throat as his green eyes that began to rival in hue the foliage that surrounded the area, even down to the minute speckles of tasteless iron that coated some of the leaves reminiscent of the bloodshot tear in the whites of his eyes. Noa was ready for it to be over, as much as he tried to convince himself that he loved the chase. 

The chase left him tired… The chase left you wounded, almost dead and there was no way to logically make sense of that anymore no matter how much the Ape tried. No more, Noa muttered inside of his mind and finally looked down at his wounded shoulder for just a split second. He’d heal with time, his hand pressing to his chest to assess his bones and the severity of which they were crunched under the full weight of a male Echo, much more than your own, much more pressure and not as pleasurable as Noa would imagine it would be if you were to ever give into the temptation of caressing your body to his. 

What was going on inside; Noa nodded in stunted silence, he would heal but he was afraid you wouldn’t, unable to shake the feeling of dread that was driving his conscious mind to pessimism. The light of the new day drenching your body and giving all three of them a clearer understanding that seemed to only justify the thickened moisture that clung to the swept wrinkles that accentuated his eye sockets. 

The head wound - a large slice right along your hairline from what had to be a spearhead of sorts, maybe even one of those… Knives… Yes that was the word, Noa preened with mild pride that he was able to recall a distant conversation with you about such an obscure Echo item that you had compared to the slicing of a spearhead itself, it danced blood down the sides of your vacant expression and trickling into your eyes like faux tears that ultimately drenched themselves onto the dried ones of your cheeks. Iron and salt, coarse and hard, dried to your face and Noa was unable to keep the maintained stare on it as he felt shook with the guilt that lingered the moment he saw you leaving his sight.The scattered nature of the cuts against your skin that Noa wanted to score with his hot muzzle were abundant. 

Whatever the Ape was able to deduce against your sternum, the bone weakened and stricken with captivating his gaze as he was able to see your heart beating. Noa felt if Soona pressed down on it too aggressively, it would snap under the touch; down the frontal portion of your body and arms, unable to see in full clarity your backside that you were resting on but he figured it was nothing less than the pieces he was able to take morbid delectations in. One by one, he counted them in diligence, one way to keep the Ape from falling into a slumber and missing some part of this, some part of your life. And one by one, Noa felt a tiny bit of him die for not having been able to see that this was preventable in the first place when he irrationally sent you from his side. 

Ignoring the whimpering of his body that trudged more to the aspects of sleeping the pain off, Noa curled himself into a ball as Dar pulled herself away from your body, your hand still reaching and holding onto Soona’s as his friend held her face perpendicular to your own. Noa… Knew she had lied to him, that there had been no Apes sent back for you. Shutting his eyes pensively, he sensed there was something being said there between the two of you, words of assurance and praise Noa hoped for all that both of you had sustained, and words of reassurance whispered from your lips as Soona should not feel guilt for doing what she did. 

You had to know that… She… She did it to keep Noa from succumbing quicker to Death. If Soona told Noa that you were alive, he’d tear himself apart from the inside, literally tenderizing the muscles from his bones in an attempt to drag you from the consuming fire himself. Allowing the allotment of a lie was the only way to save him, Soona rationalized that as Noa was doing in the moment of tentative silence he was in now. 

There was no way to deny the sickeningly grateful notion that Noa felt as he re-opened his eyelids, subdued anger leaving the tracing around his irises. Noa understood why Soona did what she did; fear drove even the most optimistic and gentle Apes to take drastic turns in order to save and salvage what they held dear. Apes, Noa looked at Soona with a slight smile, were also Selfish… Without that emotion… Grazing his glance from his friend to you… Noa would be gone, never to see the light again and never to hold you against him in the utmost satisfaction that he needed, aligned now with his desperate need to breathe the air. 

Soona mimicked Noa then when you coughed, his hackles rising in a protective stance as her calloused fingers caressing so closely to your mouth as she wiped at the blood that pooled down the point of your chin and eclipsed itself down your jaw line. She was so gentle, Noa sniffling quietly and trying to bring his mind somewhere that wasn’t lingering with the scent of burned wood that clung around the musty atmosphere. You mustered for her a meager smile, tugged around the edges and most likely undetectable to Soona herself but Noa… Always noticed those minute expressions you gave and they were truthfully his favorite. There was something there that Noa wasn’t understanding of as you squeezed her hand with all your might, Soona returning the gesture. Thank you, you said to her, thank you for doing this for me and for helping me now… “Tha.. Thank… You for co-coming… back fo-for m…--- Me now…” That voice was unmistakably yours and it tickled at Noa’s ears in the most sweet caress as the agonistic whimper rested around the edges of your tone, Soona’s hand drifting itself up your arm to grasp at your forearm entirely, past the wrist that Noa had once grasped so tightly to cause you substantiated pain that he was going to spend the rest of his life begging for forgiveness for even when you give it time and time again as Noa suspected was going to be the case. 

“Told you… I would… I am sorry for… Not coming… sooner… Afraid…” Noa saw the shift of your pathetically placed nod, knowing you would think the same. The muscles of your neck were unable to drift in power, he wanted to hold it for you and take the motions as his own. Just tell him what action you wanted and Noa would do it for you, for the rest of the time he had with you… 

Thank you, Soona, Noa hoped she could feel that gratefulness that tugged on the very edges of his fur, sweeping through the breeze that tickled around her ears, being born within a sunset always assured the emotions that he felt were encased in her own. Thank you for keeping me alive long enough to come back to my Echo… 

“She is… in bad… condition…” Dar’s voice was dull and lacked any support because she felt there was nothing to give her Son as she came to rest beside him. Noa, instinctively like a scorned young Ape, rolled himself against her side and felt a racked sob encase his tightened and bleeding body at the mention of finally being able to release the tension that was riding along as Noa felt he needed to keep himself strong for you. ‘Must ask you… My son…’ Noa knew the question.

Noa feared the question.

‘What is… this Echo’s meaning to you?’ Signed and concise, the young Ape felt his walls crumbling down brick by carefully placed brick.

Noa said nothing and felt his body shift on what seemed to be its own volition as he curled into a ball beside his Mother, his only source of comfort as you were busy with Soona and vice versa. Anaya… Would scold him playfully for this, Noa knew that. Noa did not yearn for that here, what he wanted was his Mother to understand… But how could she… Noa squeezed his eyes shut, feeling his Mother’s body shake beside him as she readjusted the hunched position she was in to properly allot her bruised and battered Son into her embrace, one arm wrapping around him and lightly trailing the twill of her blue shawl with it. The wispy comfort it gave him as he buried himself into her side, face casing into the fur that felt so much like his own but always held a longing of maternal instinct and wisdom that was always going beyond his own thought stream.

“Cannot… tell you… Would not… understand.”

Infliction in the last word was indicative enough that Noa was dragging himself into the mind processes instilled in him from not the Elders this time… But from his Father. That Echo were all inherently bad, seeking to bring destruction where they ravaged the Earth but where in his Father’s words were there any mentions of Apes being the same way? 

Selfish, Noa rocked himself against Dar and sniffled loudly, her body staying stagnant and strong the way that she knew that Noa needed. Noa had been selfish here, his fluttering gaze that was frenzied with agnostic bullets aimed towards himself from the very Echo weapon that rendered his right side virtually dead in most regards, looking over towards your body as Soona began inspecting once more, carefully this time, around the splatter of black and purple on your chest. Selfish… Hateful towards things he did not understand… Ignorant and so very…

“Reminds me… Of your Father. The way.. You look at her.” Noa stopped his paced and languid movements against his Mother, amply expanding eyes to the point where Noa felt the skin beneath his eyelashes was going to snap from being stretched beyond comprehension. “I do not… understand.” 

Whimpering that out, he turned his face then towards the tree trunk and looked at the tracing of the lines that drifted upwards to the sky until it tapered into the leaves that fluffed outwards and provided the most wonderful but saddening lighting. Dar extended her free arm that was not cased around the wounded nature of Noa’s shoulders and urged her boy to look up to her. Noa did just that, falling himself back in time to when he would cry on her about how cruel and vindictive Koro was towards the younger Noa; towards his thoughts and his outview of the world. It felt so similar, Noa so small and incomprehensible.

‘Your Father would… only want your happiness, my Son.’

No words spoken, Noa felt reluctant at the intricate way Dar signed towards him as a few birds began their calling through the woods, themselves on the search for something greater like the Ape who looked nothing more than a child in his Mothers embrace. Noa’s face crunched in on itself, the expression familiar enough to Dar as she ‘tsk’ed under her breath and tugged him even closer, careful of the gouge that would scar his shoulder once healed. Canines rattled up and down as Noa processed, trying to come up with a response but he felt nothing coming to fruition as he let out a distressed yelp. 

“She cannot… leave me…” Noa shook his head adamantly as Dar tugged his face inwards to bless his forehead against her own, Noa disregarding the flutter of his neck muscles that told him the motion was not a great idea, but he needed the brief and smothering gesture that radiated what felt like self-assurance from one Ape to another. “I am so… Afraid… Mother… She will…---” 

Noa could not bring himself to say it but the implication was left bare and cold in the deadened silence that followed as Dar nodded in empathetic understanding. She missed Koro, as was evident in how she held her only child, half of him engrained with the late Master of the Birds which she saw in his leadership and outlandish obsessions but the other half… Hopeful and devoted, Dar let her stare trail back to where you were laying on the moistened Earth. Romantic, through and through and she knew that Noa was unaware of this shared trait. She missed her Mate and felt the pull to be protective towards her own Son in the vividly cusped imagination that he was about to embark on a similar endeavor without ever knowing what the fruit actually tasted like once burst onto tastebuds.

“We… Eagle Clan… Must believe… They…” She looked at Eagle Sun who came to beckon for you, trailing his way on the ground on stickly legs and bounced towards your way in his own seeking comfort, beak trailing downwards and grabbing a delicate strand of your hair which Soona was quick to fix, shooing off the bird from your presence. Wake up, Sun told you in silence as he refused the gesture from Soona to leave, not only does Noa need you, I do too… 

Dar narrowed her eyes on the bird in convoluted confidence, “Our Eagles will always lead us to where we… need to seek forgiveness.” “I wish to seek…” Noa was careful with his words as he turned his body away from Dar to look forward once more; Towards the broader and fur lined coat of Soona’s svelte muscles to your own, tattered and senselessly bleeding appendages as you admired the scape of the trees than lined your vision above. Noa’s breathing began to feel muffled again and mindlessly crinkly. ‘I need… her to… know….’ 

The feeling in his chest became more evident as a ricochet from his lungs exploded against the back of his throat, finally telling the Ape than words at this point were useless, his vocal cords were going to fail him. ‘It is my fault… I sent her… away… Anaya and Soona…’ Pressing his lips together, Noa felt his self-control dwindle into the everlasting nothingness than came from his deepened sense of self-hatred. Everything he had done to you was shrouded on the delicate features of your skin, the same skin than Noa wanted to hold onto and bruise for himself out of another wave of self-indulgent lunacy. 

‘Anaya and Soona think she left of her own will.’ Noa explained to his Mother, unable to stop the present scheme to demolish his own self-worth, something Dar cherished so much because to her, Noa was worth so much more than he bargained against. 

‘I sent her away. Gone… from my side…’ Fingers worked against the language, regretting every word that came to be. Noa was terrible, his leer unable to dance away from your body as Soona began to wrap your legs into tweeded fabric that bristled around the edges with dirted twine. A temporary fix to a much larger problem. ‘Never told them… Noa sent her away… Ashamed… Still… am…’

“We do things… without understanding… Consequence.”

“We do stupid… things when… no time is taken to understand!” Noa hissed at his Mother, suddenly enthralled with the want to delve into deprecation rather than take anymore wisdom that was offered in loving understandment. Talking was pure torment for the Ape as the fur catapulted itself against the crown of his skull and down the base of his neck in an innate display of self-defense. Dar could not defend him, no one could anymore. 

“My Son…” Dar sighed against Noa’s disintegrating self. “You think… You… Do not understand?” The clear tone was leaking disappointment and Noa snapped his gawk at her, inviting to the pull he had to be scorned into submission for his actions. “You brought Echo… to the Clan… Brought devastation… But brought… something…”

Words ceased as Noa’s slitted eyes felt more guilt at the fact that the demise of the Clan was always going to fall at his feet. There was no way around it, the forewarnings began with the lack of acceptance from his Father growing up. Noa was not a Leader; Noa was a scared Ape who would run and turn at the casted shadow of doubt he covered himself in. There was nothing more to say, but the dead air that centered his gravity made Dar’s next words even more bitter. "Echo brought something new to you. You have learned much. Of Echo ways, of ways of Clan… Of Noa.” “Do not… understand… Your… kindness towards me.”

“You are my Son, and I am proud of you---” Jaw clenching, the muscles tightened themselves as Noa gritted his teeth in frustration. “I want to take her… As my Mate.” Noa bit back, his tongue against his right upper canine for a split second out of vindictiveness as if to mutter to Dar ‘Try to be proud of me for that. It’s impossible.’ As were the subsequent shattering of words he wanted to use as fuel. If the village was burned down to ashes, Noa wanted to be too and he’d be the one to stoke the flame just to seek the disapproval he knew had to be coming so he could move on in secret. The intent would never change, Noa wanted you and only you and if his own Mother posed a threat to that then he would leave; that was the deciding factor though the Chimp felt it was a decision made in haste and inflicted selfishness to see how much he truly was able to get.

 He wanted his Echo, but he was afraid now to lose his Clan as lucidity came back from the injuries that left him post-hazed in the aftermath of a terrible loss.

A confession from you was checked off, the words so tastefully leaving his ears pricked as his shoulder fur preened itself in the utmost satisfaction. He would take you… In your words, as a Human. In his words, as his Echo and Mate. A denial from his Mother would derail that and would… Ruin it. It was the driving force that kept his speech so clear and vengeful. Noa spoke with hatred towards himself. 

“Ape and Echo. Cannot… stop myself… from thinking it is… possible… Raka,” Noa glimmered his attention back to Dar for a split moment and she swore she could see her boy smile in self-assurance but it was surely the trick of light, “Caesar… The ways… of Caesar… Could be true… For us all… For Eagle Clan to… learn and to grow… Need her… by my side...”

There was a stunted silence between the shared blood that coursed through the two Apes, Dar jilting her head at the words so confidently said without a stutter. She knew; it was apparent as she said earlier. In the way than Noa possessed his gaze against yours. She knew; it was apparent in the leaking hesitation Noa had when posed to give your body over to Soona and herself who only came to help. Ape and Echo… 

She thought hard, brow ridge coming down above her stare. Not unheard of; other Clans she had met had stories. Not as admittedly swept in a sunsetting glass, it was often Apes taking what they considered to be their own on the Earth and in itself held much danger for both parties. Never did the notion that her own child would want to wander down such a path come to Dar’s train of thought but the longer she processed it, Noa’s words desperate for acceptance,  it was attune to her Son’s personality. Push the boundaries of what is possible for Apes… 

Bring more peace and prosperity to the Clan itself and build reinforcements. Not arranged like the other Clans who did it out of true selfishness, not smothering for the Echo to live a life they did not want but something brought to light from mutual affection and understanding between two species, hands reaching for each other over and over again over countless conversations she had seen afar that Noa and you partook in. There was selflessness in her lineage that Dar had sensed. There was willingness on the Echo part that Dar now realized to be acceptance of the most respectful way, her own ideology towards you changing on a dime.

He sought something new, something to help fix the hole that was left when Koro refused to listen and you… Did that for him. You held onto him, kept his balance and only when you were gone did it shatter into tiny shards of glass that the entire Clan had to deal with in the crossfire. She did not understand the appeal. The desire to be with Echo in such a way… But there were those who sought for the unknown. No Ape, Dar needed to understand that, was ever going to fill Noa’s wants and desires; her Son was always destined for you and she truly believed in that, the divine intervention. 

Dar saw that now even as Noa trembled beside her with the admission. In his confession blessed to the air, Noa was seeking the only permission he needed before he’d allow himself to take his place next to Soona and to help his betrothed Echo.

“It will… not be easy.” Dar eased into the approval with a casted look at her Son and then back at your more delicate form, trying so desperately from the look of your fisted hands, to keep the pain inside as to not alarm Noa any further. It was universally recognized as the Mother of the Eagle’s leader nodded her head tentatively. She did not understand but… There was no understanding in the realm of who you choose to love.

“Echo… will continue to pose…threat to Ape… But… If this is what you choose… What you need… You need to know it will be a difficult journey for both of you. Very long… May… Bear no fruit.”

“Do not care,” Noa bared his teeth at the whimper that drifted deftly from your chapped lips, Soona’s mouth muttering the tiniest bits of an apology for you. “Will figure… that out later… Need…” Noa swallowed hard, the feeling of dirt sediment lining along his throat causing incredible discomfort with the motion of his jugular as he raised a hand for his Mother. Flattened, straight to her line of vision and palm beckoning to the sky. The tearing of his tired muscles faulted momentarily and Noa felt his arm falling but with an ardent grunt, he hoisted it even further for Dar to accept. “Need you… to help me… Please…”

There were no more words spoken, nothing more than Dar needed to tell her Son as her fingertips grazed the very cusp of Noa’s blood dried hand. Within moments, as if the contact between the reinvented the muscles that had been blown to oblivion, Noa brought his hand to her neck and tugged her inwards to bless his Mothers forehead with his own. Thank you was spoken between the brow contact.

“Go to her now. Help… Soona. We will.. Get her back to the Clan to begin healing…” Noa squeezing his eyes shut and seconds later, he was dragging his damaged body towards his Sunset Sister, determination drawing itself to the forefront with every cusp that his feet had on the ground that tore the Earth apart with its gait. 

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A Month Later.

Pressing a large hand to his ribcage as a blaze sped at the muscles, Noa took a deep rattling breath in, curt and brisk with the idea that the bones themselves were tugging back into position from puncturing his lungs. That was evident to your gawk where as you were able to admire the pure stance the Chimp truly possessed with a dry mouth, urged and agitated with desire to touch the shoulders that were moving so dexterously, jealousy piqued as you were unable to work the same way he did. If you asked nicely maybe he'd work his hands for you, your lips parting with the compulsion to speak, the words stopping themselves in your tightened throat as the guilty continuance to admire the Ape was much greater than speech. Noa’s shoulder blades brushed with acute and censored protectiveness that sunk deep from the depths of his honey fur to keep the budding relief of breathing to himself as the hackles rose down his spine as he prepared the clay jar, so familiar to both of you now; used twice, smeared against smoothed skin that he wanted to cling to for the rest of time. The first time, your skin flinched away from him because he was seen as a threat; an Ape who would kill you with vicious intent. This time... You were so accepting of his grazing finger pads, calloused and attune to the nature of your pores. You'd never been touched like that before; you never wanted to be by anyone other than Noa.

The chattering of other Apes, the cluttering of bricked wood, laughter… The laughter was not coming from outside, he was quick to notice. Anaya… The Eagle Clan leader has been so trenched in his own thoughts that he had forgotten that Anaya was in the room with you, visiting as he so often did in the early evenings. Noa peeped over his shoulder at the hunched form resting beside the softer edges of your own aura, Noa too familiar now with how it felt after catering to the needs it developed in order to heal. The fleshy part of your calf seemed to be engrained to the very depths of his palm prints from the countless times that Noa had the delectation of cleaning the wounds himself, taking the bided seconds needed for each leg. 

From the right to left his fur tickled at the skin, still sensitive and still urging him that there was more beyond this as you watched with curiosity how he touched you. It was all intricately a part of a forgiveness process that existed only in his own mind before splattering it back with more rooted paste. How it drew back to the moments when he first found you and did the same actions, this time, ripping apart the notions that he would ever cause this damage himself. You knew better now, a part of the Clan itself.  It was all intricately a part of a forgiveness process that existed only in his own mind before splattering it back with more rooted paste.

How the Ape awaited the day to feel more than just that, his lushy green and golden gaze resting on the lighter splatter of the bruises trailing and kissing the skin of your collarbone as the pit of his stomach dropped at the reasoning behind the discoloration. That was no more; Noa needed to remind himself and drew a small breath that released from his mouth as a hardened huff. You were here with him… With Anaya and soon Soona would join to garner you the evening meal for you and Noa would watch in bated amazement as you ate. Amazement that you survived what pestilence he brought down on both of you.

“Are you sure,” The wheezing tone of your voice was still there much to Noa’s dissatisfaction. As if to say the wound on his own coarse body did not shoot him with pain, as if to mention the way that it felt at times like his ribs were going to tear the muscles of his lungs apart fiber by fiber. Noa listened innately to the softened spoken attitude you gave Anaya, sensing from the tips of his fur your movements as you lightly placed your hand on the back of the Chimps head with a small sign once you felt a cased bump, “You’re okay? Noa… told me you took a really hard hit…”

Anaya rolled his eyes and let them stare a small dagger into the Master of the Birds himself which was playfully returned upon his arrival back to the normal crouched position on your right side, your body taking in the delectations of the way that he moved beside you. Assured, confident again… The Earth below indented from his weight as he was very wary and cautious to leave your side and often only switched placed when Soona came to tender your injuries if Noa had to account to some responsibility that was resting too uncomfortably on Dar from time to time, only indicative when Noa’s stubbornness flared and he refused to leave you.

Anaya gave you a brisked smile of familiarity, tugging at the strings in your reminiscence to days that had passed before as he hooted a chortle from deep in his throat. Anaya was amused and boasted.  “Much tougher than… Noa is. Get hit with Echo weapon and is… Down for count.” “Would like to see you… Do the same thing.” Noa defended himself with ease and earned himself a raspberry from Anaya. A small melancholic grin tugged at your lips from the interaction, your mind tracing back steps as you looked over the scabbing wound buried in Noa’s fur. At this point, a full moon cycle had passed and the days began to feel a lingering semblance of some seeked normality and the fur around the infliction was becoming more dense as a form of healing itself. Fingers twitched in your lap. Everything, your lungs yelled at you to breathe and you were fastened to take a draw in slowly so as to not cause another panicked rage of coughing; everything was healing. 

The Apes began to spend their days working to bring flourished greens back of the original scarred land they knew so well, while drenching their sleepful nights in makeshift bungalows deeper in the forest where you were residing at the moment. A refuge of sorts that Noa, Anaya and Soona had scouted out once after the first flooded fire took what was rightfully theirs, where they were able to unwind against a billowing bonfire during the dawns and running into the late evenings for their communal meal before all of them, young and old, repeated the next day and paid the price for Noa’s selfishness. 

One by one, families will return soon to the blushed and eloquent towers that sang to the sky nestled so cozily next to the meadow that they raised their birds in, one by one the Eagles will find themselves against their perches of the newly built Eagle Enclosure, happily flittering to their Masters that they had returned home; feathers seeping into the ground and draping it happily with their colors of gray, browns, whites and occasional speckles of blue. Noa wanted that, he thought and gazed down at the paste in a brushed clay jar that was molded roughly and had unkempt edges that would cut at Noa’s thick skin if he were not careful handling it. 

Noa wanted to return home, now yearning to accept the thought as Soona arrived, your small grin captivating his attention as you drew it into a loud smile with a laugh. He only slept in the hut with you, silent and possessive on the ground near your shape as you were resting on a tattered bundle of fabrics that made a makeshift mat so you were not susceptible to the dirt. You were comfortable, or so it seemed as the female Ape handed you a wickered bowl with an assortment of what seemed to be berries, nuts and a fish. Not even a nest was provided yet, he felt his heart tearing itself apart. A nest with him was all Noa wanted you to reach for; he hoped it crossed your mind as your body rested to heal but he had no idea if that were the case. 

His green eyes narrowed on an unfixed point on the wall. The Ape would crack your skull open out of adoration just to see the processes… Just to see now what you truly thought about him because the words that were left unspoken came back with a vengeance and sank their talons in like an Eagle to a fish. Soon… He reminded himself. They will be spoken soon… Noa had promised you, his fingertips ghosting over your calf for a split second. Once you were able to look at him how he wanted to… He’d return the favor. The speckling of an Echo and an Ape, as one, in their home, chartered to each other over and over again. Noa needed that. Noa needed you to need that.

Placing a blueberry against your tongue, you side swiped the broad frame of the Ape on your right side as Anaya and Soona greeted each other. Squeezing your teeth together, you coated the inside of your mouth with the delicious juices and placed an integral hand onto Noa’s shoulder, near his mitigating skin. It was apparent from the startled jump he gave upon the contact that he had not been paying attention and was dredging himself in thoughts. ‘You… okay?’ Signed for privacy, Noa smiled at the nature of your smaller fingers tugging into the positions it needed to catapult words just for him. Always… Just for him.

‘Thinking.’ Noa signed back surely, ‘Wait until Anaya and Soona leave. Talk then. You,’ His gawk flickered to your wickered bowl before he met your gaze again with a stern and playful stare, ‘Need to eat first.’

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Long days were worn against his muscles, Noa felt tired and reached up to press a hand to his shoulder and tenderized it with his hard finger pads.  Healing, but the inside occasionally flared for him when he moved it too extensively. The fetched log that was thrown into the fire was more than enough for today, not to speak for the countless motions he had against your skin earlier to help your wounds. A quick and painfully bittersweet reminder that… This life now had a cost; the cost was great, but Noa was taxed to pay to keep you at his side, safe and forever in his protection. The Master of the Birds. The Leader of the Eagle Clan. His eyes scooted towards your own, finally allowing his weaned frame the privilege of facing you, shoulders bringing themselves together out of lack of confidence for what was about to be pursued, your scrutiny too harsh to imagine but there is nothing there for you to judge.

The Ape was perfect as he always was; slender framed, mouth-watering in the way that his chest stiffened when he looked at you, then pulling his thin waist down into his pelvic bone. Noa had always been so alluring even when you were able to convince your mind that there was nothing there and he was just another Ape there to kill you. There was always the distant thrust of attraction that subdued conversations into submission. You felt captivated as you always had at how the fur against his body must have kept him so warm and you hoped that someday, it would provide you with the same privilege. 

Noa’s mouth parted as he sat down beside you, a plume of dirt escaping from the weight he presented to the Earth as his peer brought itself to your healing legs. The wonderment of the eye contact you gave him, lingering now as you glazed your hunger against the drawing of his shoulders drifting through him as Noa tried to focus on the task at him and rid his senses of the previously known sorrow of thinking of what could have been as he brought his longed face to look towards you once more. You accepted him so willingly and it left him nothing short of caught breath and unable to move or convince his mind that breathing was necessary. 

Flicking his irises up for a few moments, Noa gave himself the time to draw in the way that your shoulders moved with heavy breathing that was allowing itself to take deeper and deeper strides down your lungs, so different from before and it really raised his self-assurance that things… Were going to be alright. This… Noa brought his hand to rest onto your calf and traced the reddened skin down with a ghosted fingertip. Was all going to be alright and you were healing for him. There was a cased and pinkish scar against your forehead covered by your hairline barely detectable in the firelight that was crackling near the right hand corner of the room. 

“What did you… want to talk about? You’re usually okay talking about things in front of Soona and Anaya. It’s got to be something special if you want me alone ” Bring your right calf to present itself for him properly having sensed that Noa wanted to actually touch more. How beautiful it slid itself into the base of his palm, the skin that was able to feel the mild tickle of Noa’s fur sending that involuntary shiver through your senses. 

“You… Seem ready to stand up and walk.”  

Noa reassured you with a huff, bringing his face in towards your own and maintaining long eye movements against your own. His mouth sunk in on itself. Daring to say something. Daring to utter anything. That phrase was a diversion as you felt a mild seek of disappointment run along your diaphragm as you avoided the moment of eye contact in favor of looking casted to the side. So, he just wanted to talk about… Your legs. About standing on your own two feet when you were under the floating impression that he was going to carry you to the ends of the Earth.

Crawling inside of him was an idea; to embezzle yourself into Noa’s body and tender to his ribs like he had done for your legs. Let me do this for you, you’d cry for him, cracking the bones instead of bringing them back to health under your fingers as if you had enough strength to do that. Sniffling softly, you tore your eyes from him again after noticing the forlorn expression he carried for you now that Anaya and Soona had taken their leave. 

The times you were consciously aware that he was with you for the last month were nothing but stifled capsules of the words that had been spoken before, the promise that clung to your tongue but was it really a promise without fruit? You wanted Noa to say what you wanted him to say, never actually knowing it to be a reciprocated feeling… There was something about your stroke with Death that could have simply told you that you were imagining things… Maybe then! With you inside of his own self, you’d know… You’d get the confirmation that clung to the air like a musty summer night. Anxiety… Was going to tear itself into you and refuse to leave without drawing poison into your bloodstream.

You could have gone your own way willingly but you refused and came back to Noa. You needed him.

You could have lived another day without the knowledge that for a moment in time, Noa seemed to hate you and gone on with your life. But you wanted to come back to him.

You would have died willingly for him either way... Justification rested on saving the Apes who gave you something more but your mind knew otherwise. You’d kill yourself to save him, over and over again. It was what he deserved, not a little Echo who was afraid of the world beyond the arms that Noa encased them in… You wanted to hear him say more than just mutters about your sustained injuries. Admittance, something more. Heart racing in your chest was hard to ignore for both parties as Noa was able to detect the movement from his feet from the close proximity his stature had to yours.

Give me words that only belonged to us, you wanted to beg him. Noa felt his breath pick up slightly, his shoulder a dull ache as he rested nearly his entire body weight on it so the Ape was able to cradle his neck towards your face again, more daring than before as he was sure now. The time was not going to get any better and he refused to see if time could tear apart an Echo and Ape rather than bring them together.

 With this… Disappeared his entire notion, the entire rant that you were not willing to accept him. The Clan would rebuild itself and he left his own comeuppance in your more than willing hands. Why let him so close if that were not the case? Why let Noa hold your calf, acutely aware that he could very easily mangle with his own touch, and no bars were bared when his hand dragged upwards to case around your thigh and pass the fabric of the scavenged shorts, thinned from time and barely detectable to the outer shell of his knuckles? You stiffened at the feeling. Virgin skin being held. Explored in a way that made your mind burst with the possibilities you had indulged in in the past but now in the present, they were so far away as you were erased of any preconceived thoughts.

The shorts worn here were to give the best access to your legs for him to work against when he needed; taking advantage of the scant skin Noa sought. Worn here now for Noa to drift his leathered touch against in a bated question that desperately rode between your stares at each other that serviced only one answer from your parted lips as your own shoulders began to rise and fall at a quickened pace. Your eyes fluttering between his protruding muzzle, the darker speckles against the bridge of his nose as you swallowed hard from his brazen connection on your suddenly hot skin, Noa mesmerized momentarily at the shot of your jugular bouncing in a very appealing reaction.

“No-Noa what are you doing?” Stifled air was cut by the phrase you whimpered to him, not out of fear but the sudden crazed notion that this was no longer a dream and scooted away the idea that the Ape who helped you back to health, who was holding so desperately to flesh that could be torn to literal pieces at the snap of a pin. You’d let him, your thigh resting comfortably in his grasp, confirmation that it was always meant to be clutched by him in aggravated adoration. Feeling his hand twitch against it, you were unable to draw yourself any closer, movement not too well established since you began the healing process a month ago.

“Noa…” He wanted to pounce on you at the sound of his name, his pupil's blown gaze admiring the way it formed and he carried away the idea that you wanted to say it for him privately. “I… do not break… promises…” Noa muttered and looked down at where he had his hand against your thigh muscle and he squeezed at the tender flesh that he imagined sinking into so many times before. How easy it would be for Noa to take you right then and there. Push your shoulders down, your gasp delectable to him as he grips your other thigh and… He shook his head and drew a pained breath in, this time letting it rest in his lungs for a stiffened time, enjoying the drowning he was impeding on himself. “But...I am… afraid…” What does an Ape say in these moments? What does an Echo deserve to hear? What sort of feelings are you going to understand? There was no longer the sense heightened by the refusal of attraction for each other, Noa looked at you, wanting to speak but nothing was coming out of him anymore when he knew you deserved at least an echoed whisper. Anything… His brain urged to think… He would take you… His Echo… Over and over again so why was he clinging to fear that had no juxtaposition within him in the first place? He felt like he was going insane, the tug-of-war between his conscious thoughts and his heart, a concept he didn't want to acknowledge. 

Noa had almost lost you before what if--- Drawing his teeth together, they clattered from the force used to shut his jaw, the muscles bouncing in a tight fixation in front of your eyes as you lifted a hand to encase the side of his face. Without reservation, Noa tore into it and placed his expression flat against your palm and shattered a shiver in front of you. He thought to himself how afraid he had been when he lost his Father… When he had to find himself once. How there was nothing more in the moments he had with you other than the fear that you could be torn apart again.. “I cannot… risk losing you… again… My fault… In the first place you left… because Noa refused to underst…understand…” 

The hand on your thigh was lost before it was sternly but gently placed against your sternum, Noa spreading his fingers against the bone there and wanting nothing more than to tear your t-shirt off, more thinned from the elements than even your shorts and he could see your nipples peeking from the anticipation of his touching of such a previously unknown area. No more of that thinking, Noa was going to rest himself into you and never let go, having to admit to the lingering sensation that he was never going to from the first day that you made the agreement that saved your life.

Not sexual at all were his motions, Noa was showing his intent to protect even the most tattered pieces of your shape but he always… To the Eagles above, he always appreciated the subtle ways that your body let him know the physical attraction was so grained and mutual. So very Echo and lost to him, but alluring and drawing into his curious nature. Soon… It would all be his, Noa was riddled with uncomfortable self-assurance and self-confidence. Soon, your shirt would hit the floor and you would be tangling yourself against him. You… Just needed a bit more time… His hardened hand raised itself to a dance against the back of your neck, sturdy and keeping you in his focused line of vision as a gasp escaped your lips at the sensations he was giving you. Clarity rocked through the cut air, so dense that even a spearhead was going to only go an inch once thrown. “Ape… mate… For life. Will never find another… Not common to move on, I… would never have… Moved on… from… this..” Your stare was ample at his chosen words, the thought was there as Noa had to process each one slowly to ensure that there was mutual understanding. No more fumbling around the nature of the relationship. No more questions needed to be asked in solemn introspection when you two were apart. 

There were going to be no more split seconds were you were apart, Noa was sure of it as he raised his own hands, teetering to balance on his feet which dug their toes into the dirt. Laying his hands on top of yours that refused to drop from the hold you had on his fur lined face, Noa sputtered his lips out in frustration at the lack of vocabulary he had for the confession. Lack of Echo phrasing that got you two to this sliver in time slower than it needed to be. So… much slower, Noa felt his feet shuffle below of their own volition, almost to the point where he was going to topple over you and crush the very bones that he had cared and caressed for and would continue to do so even if you were against it. 

“You asked me… To take you… as Human…” Noa felt the bud of confidence flickering in his voice which was unable to place itself in his throat. He sounded awkward, inflicting all over his vocal cords as the young Ape struggled to find its placement. It was all faux but all the more comforting as your fingers drew into the fur that surrounded his face and pulled near the thicker fur by his ears. You wanted him, Noa knew that from the drop of your mouth. No sounds for him, nothing but he could see the expression on your tongue. Shattered, he drew his forehead aggressively onto your own as you accepted him fully. 

“I am yours… If you wish to have me… As an Ape.”

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TAGLIST:

@ohwaitimthewriter @hera-annwn @saturnnie-03 @filliandkili @hadesbabygurl @supergoat12 @moonchild1433

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[thoughtsfromlayla]

26 Ways of Taking You: I for Incubus

Summary: You suppose the deal technically went correctly, but when the incubus said he required your life force, you thought he meant... well your life.

Notes: ~2.9k words. I don't know what I wanted to do with this fic, all I know was that Dream would rock an autonomous tail.

Warnings/Tags: MDNI - 18+, Incubus!Dream x Reader, dubious consent ngl, demons do not care for condoms or sex safety, Dream has a tail and it does things, does this count as ritual sex, size difference, belly bulge, womb tattoo hehe, his wiener is weeeeeird, his tongue is weeeeeeird

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“Hoc carmine, dae…daemo—erm, daemonium somno accerso qui vocatis respondeat meis. Quis mihi det quod quaero. Quis mercedem suam accipiet pro suo servitio?” You read out, stuttering on a few pronunciations.

The circle of candles flickers creating shadows over your kneeling, naked form. You frown at the old parchment still, looking between it and the chalk-drawn symbol in the middle of your basement floor. You are sure the symbol was drawn correctly and the candles were placed just like the diagram. So then… Why isn’t anything happening?

Maybe you read it wrong. You squint at the parchment again and begin to chant once more. “Hoc carmine—”

The candles went out and you suck your lips in to suppress the scream that tried to burst out. Your sick mother’s room was just above the basement that you find yourself in and you didn’t want to cause a scene. 

“What do you want?” A voice calls out, slow and seductive in the shadows. 

You blink a few times, trying to will your eyes to get used to the sudden darkness in the room. The creature didn’t speak again, waiting impatiently for your request. It has been years since the last time he was summoned, and he was positively starving for some human flesh. 

“My mother, she’s sick,” you explain, your own voice echoing back to you in the tense atmosphere. 

“How drab, how boring,” it tsks with a click of his tongue. “You wish for me to make her well and ‘you’ll do anything, I promise’,” the creature says mockingly. 

You don’t respond for a moment, the demon you summoned summarizing the speech you had spent the last week practicing to a mere few words. “Yeah… that’s pretty much it.”

“Very well, what do you have to give in return for my service?” It asks you, still veiled in the darkness. “But know this, I am quite indifferent to your human, materialistic objects. Money will have no benefit to you tonight, little one.”

“Well, what do you want then?” You ask in a shaky breath. You can’t see him, but you can feel his eyes raking over your naked form. 

“Your life force seems good enough for me,” it hums in thought. “Young… vital… yes…”

Your life force for your mother’s health? That was an easy decision, but when faced with the uncertainty of death do you hesitate. You still had so much of your life ahead of you. Friends to meet, foods to try, hell you haven’t even found a romantic partner yet. But, your life isn’t the one that’s dying right now. 

“Okay,” you breathe out shakily. 

“Then the deal is set.���

The candles flicker back one by one until the shadow reveals itself to you within the circle. His legs are crossed, his arms resting on his knees. He is every bit as the paper described him: hair as dark as midnight, skin pale as death, sullen black eyes with the stars within them.

The parchment fails to mention, however, the thin tail that was swaying back and forth within the barriers of the summoning circle. Or the horns that protruded out of his head. The demon smiles at you, a haunting image full of sharp teeth and a darting, long tongue that licked his lips. 

“Release me from my confines and we can set the plan in motion,” he whispers in a low growl to you, moving to stand on his haunches. His figure seems to grow with the one subtle movement, towering over you as you swallow.

“I release you,” you command with a tremble in your voice. 

Nothing physical changes around you but the shift is noticeable anyway. The candles blow outward from him as if trying to escape their own wicks. The smell he emits permeates your nose, something like soot and flames and a tinge of death.

You blink and he lunges at you, pining you to the ground and an unexpected scream leaves your lips. It didn’t hurt, not much, except for the wooden floor digging into your shoulder blades, but you still screamed. 

“If you want it to be easy, do not scream. Your fear makes you all the more tempting,” he purrs into your neck and you turn your head away. 

Your body trembles under his gaze, eyes roaming around the basement space of your childhood home. They lock onto a random water stain as you try to distract yourself from your imminent death. The stain looks like Elton John, you thought to yourself before squeezing your eyes shut. 

You feel his breath over your skin and you’re begging he’ll do it mercifully, straight for the neck and then you wouldn’t feel the pain of your body being eaten by all of those sharp teeth. But it doesn’t come.

Your eyes snap open as you feel the undeniable slimy and wet sensation of his forked tongue on your neck. It stops just over your jugular, feeling the erratic pulse through the vein. Thick, fast, so full of life and he groans at the rhythmic thump against his tongue. 

His tail moves along your leg, feeling the soft skin beneath its silky scales. The ticklish sensation makes you squirm in its grasp, kicking your legs fruitlessly against it as it crawls higher on your thigh. The point of it settles between the sensitive heat before your legs and you let out a broken gasp.

Oh, my god. He’s not going to kill you. He’s going to fuck you senseless!

“I thought you were going to kill me,” you pant as his tongue licks the hollow divot above your collarbone. 

He hums as he tastes the adrenaline in your sweat. “One does not kill off the lamb for meat when it can still provide wool.” He pauses for a moment, pulling away from your neck to look at you. “You thought I was going to kill you?”

You look back at him, your eyes meeting the endless void that is his. “Well, yeah. You said ‘life force.’ That seems pretty… death-y to me.”

“Why are humans so dreary?” He asks himself before he remembers that he is here to feast on your body and returns his lips to your body. 

You don’t bother with a response, not when your back was arching at the way his lips trailed down the valley between your breasts. His lips hover over your left breast, feeling the blistering speed at which your heart pounded in your chest. 

The ever so subtle thrum of life makes his eyes flutter in satisfaction, the feeling of life something he has missed the feeling of. Your body was so warm against his cold one, he just couldn’t help sealing his lips across the nipple. 

“Holy…fuck,” you curse out at the sensitive sensation.

The fork in his tongue lavishes around the peak, it meets the sensitive bud and then spreads out again as his mouth continues to suckle on your breast. The moans he manages to elicit from you are quiet and restrained and he needs more from you. 

“This deal is two sided,” he begins, whispering in a gruff voice as he moves over to your other breast. “If you want your mother to become well again, I need you to start making more noise.” 

The tail that was obediently nestled between your legs begins to move higher, the blunt point of it finding your enlarged clit easily. You couldn’t help the moan that escapes your lip when it slides across the sensitive nerve, using your own arousal to its benefit. 

“Yes, just like that,” the demon praises as he hears your broken gasps and moans. His own groan vibrates against the smooth skin of your breast as he indulges himself against the thrum of your heartbeat again. 

Your hips buck involuntarily against his tail, the sensation something you craved. Then you would squirm away with a whimper on your tongue as the sensation grows too much, too quick. The longer the tail swirled around your weeping cunt, the harsher you began to clench around nothing. It gives a rewarding slap down on your clit, eliciting another wonderous moan from your throat. 

The demon has returned to your neck, rekindling his fascination with your neck and the vein it housed. He bites into the skin, watching with sick satisfaction as the blood trails down the muscles of your neck. Pleasure succumbs to pain and pain to pleasure once again as he soothes over the bites with his tongue. The saliva is cool against the wounds, stopping the bleeding all the same. His lips ghost across your neck, satiating his own greed and biting down again just to taste the iron. 

“Red looks good on you,” he hums, his arms entrapping themselves around you as your back arches off the ground again. 

With ease, he rests you on his squatting lap and the obvious hard arousal he sports lays heavy against your stomach. The demon looks around the basement before he eyes landed on an abandoned work bench. In two strides he makes it there and unceremoniously drops you onto the table. The tools clatter as you're dropped down and even with your body on an elevated platform, he still towers over you. 

You looked absolutely ravishing in his gaze. Wide eyed with lust blown pupils, the ragged breathing from your dried lips, and the dried blood that ribbons down your neck like a gift just for him to open. His hands go to your hips again, lifting them to meet his. 

In the dim light, you notice his cock, or should you even call it that if it was as ribbed and as thick as it was? He paints himself with your wetness, using your own arousal to coat himself as he pushes the blunt of his head against your entrance. His tail finds itself wrapped around your thigh again, tightening on itself like a python upon its prey. Your thigh pudges against the bondage and it's the only grounding thing against your overheating body. 

He gives an experimental push forward, groaning at the way your arousal squelches around him.

"Breathe," he tells you.

You let go of the breath you were holding, taking in a shaky breath and allowing your body to grow limp in his hold. At the next exhale, he smiles, a disturbingly haunting and arousing image, and he gives into you the first two inches. 

Your breath stills in your lungs again, head snapping to the wooden table beneath you and you can see the stars dancing across your eyelids. The stretch was foreign, intrusive almost, as he takes you slowly. You need to breathe. Fuck, how do you breathe? Your body racks as it takes in a shaky breath and he stills within you. 

“Scream my name,” he commands in a growl above you. 

“Daemonium somno,” you simply moan. Your eyes meet him again in a desperate attempt at connection. 

“No,” he scowls, pushing a little further into your cunt. “That is my title. Say my name, little one.”

“I—I don’t know it!” You pant out, stuttering your answer. The further he pushed, the more of your ability to think seems to vanish into thin air. You’re sure you saw the name in passing somewhere, in the old leather bound book from which you ripped the ritual parchment from.

The incubus holds your hips down to sustain your squirming. He lets out a satisfied groan as he sees himself full in you, the defining shape of his cock bulging from your stomach. You were so warm, it enveloped him like the life you represented. He takes his hips back, eyes never leaving his own cock impression as it descends. When he pushes back in and your body trembles beneath him, his fingers trace the outline of his cock. 

“Repeat after me, little one,” the demon commands. “Mor-phe-us.”

“Mor…” you gasp as his hand trails under your breasts again. “Mor-phe…” the words get caught in your throat. 

“Yes, just like that. One more try, one more,” he coos above you, rutting his hip against your cunt again. 

“Morpheus!” You cry out, head thrown back as he pulls out and pushes in again, slowly and inch by thick inch. 

“Again,” he instructs. His cock warms itself in you, the coldness slowly ebbing away as it nests in there. Each pulse from your cunt conforms itself towards the shape that is so uniquely him. 

“Morpheus!” You scream again, your nails finding purchase against his arms and he hisses in pleasure as you draw black blood from his skin. 

Your back is arched like a taut bow, your thighs trembling as he lifts a leg above his hip, only to drive himself deeper into you. Only to satiate his own ego as he sees your belly bulge with himself. Your moans are nothing but a discordant symphony in his ears; so chaotic yet pleasing as he inserts himself over and over again. 

Morpheus’ tail unravels itself, wanting a taste of something other than the skin around your thigh. There is a wrapping imprint on your skin, something that will take months to heal and remind you of the incubus Morpheus for days to come. It teases the sensitive peak of your breasts, ghosting over your breasts, wrapping itself around the mound and squeezing tightly to massage them. 

“Oh god!” You jolt at the sensation. 

“There are no gods here.” Morpheus condemns your outburst with a particularly hard thrust, bruising your cervix and you cry out for him again. 

Morpheus continues you fuck you, his hands bringing your hips to meet his thrusts, spurred on by the sound of your babbling nonsense. Occasionally his name would fall from his lips amongst the pleas of ‘too much,’ or ‘so good,’ that he doesn’t really know or care if you want to stop. 

Each drag of Morpheus’ cock has you reeling in pleasure and the promise of the most earth shattering orgasm is just on the horizon of your grasp. You’re simply begging now—please, please, please, please!—the words barely heard above the erotic sound of slick squelching and the creek of the tool bench beneath you. 

His tail slithers away, and Morpheus smirks as you whimper at the lost sensation. Your whimper turns into another moan as it finds itself against your clit again, rubbing it in fast circles in sync with Morpheus’ thrusts. 

“Oh, fuck. I’m going to… going to…” you try to warn but it just comes out as a stuttering mess, again. 

“Come for me. Give me your vitality.” Morpheus’ voice penetrates the sex-numbing haze that your mind was in. 

Your walls clench around him like a vice, your orgasm taking over your entire body as it shakes each one of your muscles. Your mouth is gaping open as it tries to take in as much air as possible, your chest heaving with breath. The moment shakes you through your core, igniting your nerves with life at the sudden release. 

Morpheus spills himself into you and you groan at the sensation of his cold seed taking residence inside of your cunt. His hips stutter, indulgently giving away to a few more pumps just to feel your walls spasm around him as his cock pumps within you. 

“That was…” you swallow, resting your head on the table again and closing your eyes. You take a deep breath, feeling your heart start to slow down as Morpheus softens and pulls out of your now weeping cunt. A few large drops of your mixed orgasmic releases fall to the basement floor and you grimace at the thought of cleaning it.  “Do you do other deals? Like… what if I want a million dollars right now or something?”

“One deal per summon as per the old laws I’m afraid, little one,” Morpheus chuckles, the sound coming from deep in his chest. “But…”

A warm sensation spreads across your lower stomach and you prop yourself up on shaking arms to look. Morpheus’ nail draws an intricate rune on your lower stomach, just over where your womb is. The nail cuts at your skin, and you see the blood dewing on your skin but no pain follows. It glows for a moment before dying down into simple black ink. 

“If you wish to make another deal, this binds you to me. It will only be me that will come to answer your prayers,” he promises but it almost sounds like a threat with the way his tongue licks across his lips. “Your vitality is addictive on my body, little one.”

“And what about my side of the deal? My mother?” You ask.

As if on cue, you hear your mother calling your name in the kitchen above. She wasn’t even able to get out of bed a few moments ago, but the way the pots and pans were banging against each other was telling enough that Morpheus held up to his end of the bargain. 

“Thank you,” you sigh out with relief. 

“I will see you soon, little one.” One blink and he was gone already. 

The summoning circle has been erased from the floor and the candles look like they were never burned. But the tattoo over your womb remained, so did the bruises of his bites and tail that wrapped around you. They were the only signs that anything happened at all. 

“Are you going to come up here and help me or do I have to do everything by myself?” Your mother shouts at you. 

“Coming!” You reply back after another deep breath. 

Now, where did you put your clothes?

Having fun times in the basement sounds like tetanus waiting to happen.

So that's your lesson, get your tetanus shot before you go summoning demons. Be safe out there.

♡ Yours, Layla

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[ko-existing]

For y'all that get really logical and heady,

Not even the most premiere scientists, here, can figure out "existence," in its entirety. Maybe they will maybe they won't 😉 Though, a lot alludes to what we discuss here...anyway it's just out of reach for the "mind" and logic...

And that's because it's a paradox, it's not for the "mind," it's not conceptual. Our true self, the substrate of all illusion, is stillness. It's silent. It doesn't do anything but remain. Nothing can quantify it, THAT is neither big nor small. It's not the "universe" or the "multiverse" everything is nothing, ultimately. (The Universe is an illusion, yes, but a very pretty one. I enjoy this archetype of illusion #comfy)

Where does THAT come from? It always was and is...in no time, in no space, it has no age, no form. And quite frankly, "ego and mind," might freak out about this once you peer into *THAT* lol, maybe not though, mine did initially 🤣

"THAT" is a blink of an eye, an everlasting evening, the speed of light, an eternal kingdom. It's everything and nothing and it's so delicious. If I had to give "THAT" another word, it is Love. But even Love is a concept...tho from this illusory "ego" perspective it is love 100%. But it is still Love, just a soft love...a flowing love...and undefinable love.

And if you're feeling guilty for "leaving behind" people. Creation is nothing and everything...everything and nothing will just "slip through your fingers." Especially, THAT, trying to "figure out" *THAT* will have your mind in loops. No use in trying to coral anything, or for that matter infinite illusory creativity lol. No use in doing anything other than creating your experience. You'll find all your answers in THAT, anyway...it's what you truly are. Which is where Im getting all of this, the core of "myself"

And for those of you wondering what happens to your other selves, or other people in your old experience. Okay, just illusory bubbles of creation coalescing in and out. Like infinite creation means that you have infinite choices in the illusionary quiver of creation. Anything and nothing will be...aside your experience. No, the illusion will not implode...unless you want it to lol...but other illusions remain in the infinite substrate of THAT. Its a paradox and not worth going much deeper than that...ifykyk...youll know when you know and you already know lol.

You'll be curating new experiences with varied versions of your past curations. Simple. But like don't put so much credence in anything...you can shape your series of illusory curations any which way you want. You'll be shaping your experiences consciously aware or not...so you can autonomously create the change you want to see or let the illusory concept of "destiny" or w/e take over. Simple.

Why would I do anything if Im just eternal awareness? ...Dude why not? This illusion is your creation...these human emotions, experiences, thoughts, concepts are for play. They are for filling in eternity or however you wish to "define" it lol

Why would realized folx wanna help others get to the "end of time" "THAT"? Why not? I have so much love to give. And I know that Im choosing this world to experience as of current...as much as you are choosing to experience this world, and have these pointers come into your creation field.

...THAT (us) can experience in an infinite myriad of ways...and it's....indescribable. It's so fun and so love 👁️

The stillness of what we truly are can be experienced through infinite lenses.

And sure, you can go rest in the "void" too. You know yourself already...it "feels" very familiar. It's never lost. It's right here, right now.

none of this is actually advice^^^ just a pointer! THAT is for you only, THAT is for your illusion only. My creation is mine, and yours is yours. But happy to share my pointer. Just remember, all these words are nothing...they can make this confusing tbh, simplicity is the best.

https://open.spotify.com/track/4TaK6SAjHie2VGkiKzdZAc?si=RhODTJ5lTcG7V2ABCeQSkw

https://open.spotify.com/track/142IXMbGnv5QpJtiRRnRfl?si=SpWb4S6-RGeC_eHyBWFVNQ

https://open.spotify.com/track/1TTG3x2t5Whc0Kk28orLeV?si=vgIjltjUSY2mYFmuGt5v9A

👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻

[oodlyenough]

oblig dual destinies post

i finished the base game of dual destinies today, as in, everything but the dlc case. but the dlc case i assume is kind of a, er, side adventure that won't change much about my opinion of the main narrative, so here we go. spoilers for the first 5 cases

well that wasn't very good was it

things i did like

number one top spot MVP honourable mention goes to aura blackquill. aura is a great character, extremely my type of character, and her story was pretty interesting. every time aura was on screen i was having a good time. i cannot believe they hid the best, canon ace attorney toxic yuri in its worst game (that i've played so far). obviously wish we saw more of aura, more of aurametis, and more of aura with athena, but what we did get was honestly pretty good and much, much more explicit than i ever expected this franchise to get. i am a dog being tricked into taking a pill because it was hidden in a spoon of peanut butter.

i also liked athena. i was predisposed to like her because all the major female characters in this franchise start with a buff for me, but i did think her over the top exuberant competitive go-getter attitude coupled with the PTSD flashback sprites were a pretty good combo. i think she was unequivocally the star of this game, and i think we should have played her for a lot more of it. her power is goofy as all hell and mood matrix isn't a great minigame, but, well, uh, it's dual destinies i have to adjust my expectations somewhere.

i like that phoenix got his badge back. i can critique all the ways it played out, because you can critique just about everything in this game to the moon(rock) and back, but like. fundamentally. i like this choice and i'm glad it happened. i also like that we got to see edgeworth and pearl and got a letter from maya. it seems obvious this is the franchise trying to course correct after a rough reception to aa4, but frankly i don't really care, because i do think aa4 fucked up there. i liked aa4 and i think it was a better game than this; i also think it's quite a bummer of a game and in many places a middle finger to fans of the trilogy, so, i'll take the olive branches DD is offering me. 🤷🏼‍♀️

fullbright started off annoying to me but i did warm to him. there's one bit in case 3 where he and athena just cheer "in justice we trust!!!" back and forth that made me laugh. i thought the idea of the big bad being the friendly cop was pretty good. more on that later.

turnabout academy was dumb as hell (affectionate) and i liked it and the npcs were mostly really fun and/or funny. i love you aa5 klavier you hot washed up mess. somehow dual destinies made me more invested in klavier than aa4 did.

things i did not like

where do i start

jk, actually, the first place to start is Why The Hell Can't I Play This Game. writing and characterization and everything aside, this game is SO disinterested in being a game. i can't click stuff. characters autonomously solve puzzles on my behalf without even giving me a second to think of them. the minigames are reduced. investigation days are dull because i can't click anything. it weakens the characterization of the player and the companion character because you don't get their inane chatter. characters don't react to evidence being presented in interesting ways.

the attention to detail and love that went in to so many facets of the trilogy that made it so beloved are just not present here. i don't know what the issue was, rushed dev time or what was going on, but the wrong corners were cut. i made a separate post aout this example because it's so galling: in 1-4 if you try to present the photo of gregory's body to edgeworth, you get custom dialogue where maya intervenes and tells phoenix off for trying to show miles his dead dad. in 5-5 if you present photos of aura's murder to athena she reacts with the same generic disinterest dialogue she gives every other piece of evidence.

the characterization of the returning characters, ie not the ones new to dual destinies like athena and co, is at best watered down and one-note, and at worst out of character. i said i was happy to see edgeworth, and i stand by that overall; but his behaviour in the trial in 5-5 is like madlib edgeworth dialogue, half-hearted fanfic rather than anything to convince you it's a character who lived through the trilogy. phoenix is dumbed down and it's particularly noticeable coming off of aa4, where NPC phoenix was a fucking galaxybrained 5D chess puppeteer who was always one step ahead of everyone, and now he's like, incapable of making basic deductions. all dual destinies phoenix knows is eat hot chip be bisexual and bluff. boring, weak writing. he barely even reacts to trucy being kidnapped. perhaps because trucy is no longer a character and instead is just one extended "teen girl says the word panties" joke.

apollo... lmao... i hate to say it but i don't think apollo should've been in this game. i think his fans would be right to say that he deserved a sequel and that was what was set up by aa4, but all he does in this game is compete for the spotlight with athena, and lose. athena's story is the main story of this game and it is hindered by the detours DD has to take to include apollo; apollo, meanwhile, doesn't even really get anything of substance. we see him mourn a friend we never met and go off on a sidequest we don't partake in. the rift between the WAA would be really interesting if they... wrote it better, or let it sit longer, or let any character react to it for longer than ten seconds.

which gets to the most frustrating thing about this game: there are a lot of pretty good ideas here, hidden under layers of uninteractive "gameplay" and clunky writing that misses its emotional beats. the dark age of the law is a hilarious term but the justice system in AA IS super mega fucked up and that's a fine subject for the game to tackle, until they start pretending it's somehow *new* and that for some reason a prosecutor being convicted of murder was the final straw (ignore all the OTHER prosecutors who were convicted of murder in the golden age). the finale case you can practically FEEL capcom breathing down its shoulder, desperate to right the ship of the IP, scrambling to put together pieces that worked in the past.

but despite athena's backstory being probably the most compelling part of the game, it's hard to shake the feeling that we're getting a remix of turnabout goodbyes, except, well, worse. and that feeling is exacerbated by phoenix and edgeworth, who lived that case, never having or expressing any feelings to suggest they ... lived that case. on paper, edgeworth prosecuting a child who killed a parent by mistake is really interesting! but DD doesn't do anything with it. i actually really like fullbright being the phantom, and if i hadn't been spoiled by fandom, i think i would've been surprised. but that twist is undermined by the reveal that actually the character we knew was ... um... an amorphous shapeshifting blob with no independent identity, there's no sense of real betrayal between him and blackquill bc he's not a real person and blackquill was lying about trusting him so like ... who cares...

in conclusion

i see a lot of the shared DNA with investigations 1, and i have a lot of the same complaints. fun new characters, albeit underwritten; disappointing characterization from returning characters; in aai i found the puzzles frustrating, whereas here they felt nonexistent. at least aai1 had really cute pixel art and let me click stuff, though. shrek meme they don't even have investigating.

i am saying aai1, because i haven't played aai2 yet, and fandom swears up and down it's way better. but i have to be honest. what are the odds that of the four ace attorney games this guy wrote, three of them suck and one is a banger... i guess i'll find out in september when the port comes out :P or maybe when i play SOJ next i'll love it too. stay tuned

[the-bad-batch-baroness]

Health Update

First, I want to say thank you to everyone who reached out or commented on the latest installment of Where's Mommy? to wish me good health. I am so grateful for all of you 💚

However, the health issue I'm currently dealing with isn't due to a virus or bacteria, and there's a possibility it won't get better.

A little history.

Back in 2022, there was a two week period where I felt like my blood sugar was dropping, and I was very symptomatic. There was a moment where I slumped down a wall at work because of it, and they had to dump sugar packets from the break room into my mouth to rouse me. It was a very scary time.

After those two weeks, I went to my Primary Care Physician who ordered blood tests and had me purchase a glucometer to test my blood sugar several times a day. However, during the two weeks she had me do this, I never got a reading below 70, and the same symptoms did not develop as they did prior. My blood work came back clean, and without a reading lower than 70, my PCP dismissed it and told me I was having anxiety attacks, lol. She told me to come back if the symptoms came back, and they never did.

Backing up a couple more years.

Without revealing too much of my medical history, I have a chronic illness called POTS (postural orthostatic tachycardia syndrome). It's a dysautonomia or a dysfunction of the autonomic nervous system, the system that controls all of the automatic functions of the body. It was caused by my battle with Lyme Disease in 2010 and is currently incurable. I was diagnosed with POTS in 2018, after being told for 6 years that I had anxiety, lol.

POTS is not a very well-known illness, but it's getting more attention these days. It garners a host of different symptoms, including tachycardia, chronic fatigue, brain fog, orthostatic intolerance, migraines, gut issues, syncope, dehydration, blood pooling, etc. Everyone's POTS presents differently, and most people with a POTS diagnosis live on disability. I made the choice not to.

Fast forward to 2024.

Fast forward again to this past Wednesday.

Well, I finally was able to get a POTS specialist in my state this year. A huge win! When I had my initial consultation, I had mentioned the low blood sugar episodes in 2022 and asked if it could be related to POTS. The doctor told me that they don't see POTS patients having low blood sugar issues, but we're concerned enough to refer me to an endocrinologist. Another big win!

I had my consultation with the endocrinologist, and he ordered more blood tests, some of the same tests as before, and some different (y'all, they took like 20 vials from me). He also gave me a CGM (continuous glucose monitor) to wear for 14 days so they can track my highs and lows to see if they can catch anything.

Well, the next night, my blood sugar dropped below 70, 20 times, and 55, 9 times. Which means I was woken up 9 times throughout the night. I got only about 2 hours of sleep, and still had to go to work the next morning. But, once again, it went back up by itself without any intervention from me.

Y'all, it caught A LOT in just the first day, actually night. My blood sugar dropped below 70, 11 times, and below 55, 4 times while I was sleeping. Now, because anything below 55 is considered critical and could be fatal, there is an alarm that cannot be overridden and will sound. It sounds like a smoke alarm. So, I was awoken 4 times.

The odd thing is that my blood sugar dropped, then went back up on its own. I didn't eat or drink anything. Blood sugar doesn't really do that, so I thought it was odd. This also begs the question: If I'm asymptomatic at 53, then what level was I at in 2022 when I had symptoms? Honestly, I don't want to know.

Here is a nifty graph!

All of the red is considered low blood sugar, below 70, and anything close to that 50 line is considered critical low blood sugar. And again, I did not eat anything during the night.

There are four major anomalies with my low blood sugar occurences:

Most cases of hypoglycemia are seen in diabetics, I am not diabetic

Most cases of hypoglycemia seen in non-diabetics are sporadic, mine are consistent

Hypoglycemia is normally corrected by consuming sugar, mine auto-corrects

When blood sugar drops, it creates symptoms, I do not get symptoms

There are only a handful of things that can cause hypoglycemia in a non-diabetic and even less consistently at night time. The doctor has already ruled out insulinoma (insulin producing tumors in the pancreas), so that leaves even less, and also the good old "we don't know what's wrong with you".

I'm not going to lie. This whole thing terrifies me. There's no telling how long my blood sugar has been doing this, and it only takes one dip below 50 for me to slip into a coma and die in my sleep. Luckily, my blood sugar does this crazy autocorrect thing, and I haven't died yet! Humor makes this easier.

Right now, I'm emotionally, mentally, and physically exhausted. Adding this on top of my already difficult life with POTS has been hard to cope with, and I'm crying a lot.

Hopefully, I'll get results soon, and my endocrinologist can figure out why this is happening and how to manage/fix it if it can be managed/fixed. Maybe I've got a completely new illness, and you'll find me in a medical journal! Wouldn't that be something.

Anyway, thanks for the continued support. I have a lot of IRL support from friends and family, but while I go through this process, I may seem distant, my posting might be sporadic, I may not keep my fic posting schedule, etc. And when I have an update, I promise to let y'all know!

Much love 💚💚💚

Steph

[katuschka]

Olalla Chapter Seven

Josh Kiszka x f!OC x Jake Kiszka

So, what was supposed to be just a brief beginning of Chapter 7, turned out to be much longer than I initially planned. :D At first I considered splitting the chapter in two again, but after rereading it, I concluded that this is just a fully autonomous part, and therefore should be treated as such. As always, comments are very welcome!

4.481 words

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, intended for adult readers. Any resemblance to real persons is purely coincidental. Also, if you're under 18, go find some other entertainment elsewhere.

Warnings (are spoilers): depression, angst, internal turmoil, a lot of arguing, some fluff, a very brief mention of gas chambers

If you like the story and want to get notifications, you can join the Taglist

Chapter Six 2/2 Olalla masterpost

Are you uncertain? Or just scared to drop your guard? Have you been broken? Are you afraid to show your heart? And all you never say is that you love me so All I'll never know is if you want me oh If only I could look into your mind Maybe then I'd find a sign Of all I want to hear you say to me

Agnieszka, September 2025, Zakopane

I thought I had my feelings all figured out. I knew this was inevitable…eventually, and I thought I had already made my peace with it. But deep down, I knew I hoped that we still had more time. Or…that I had more time with him, because who knows what he wanted. Probably not me.No…obviously not me. That should have made it easier. I had been convinced that it should work that way, and that’s why I always pushed other guys away – so that they wouldn’t love me. But once again, Joshua proved me wrong. 

Your rational mind keeps telling you to let go, but that’s like telling an addict to just stop. Perhaps at least one more kiss. One more kiss and then I’ll stop…

And that’s a lie. 

Because the truth is, I did get to see him. I even got to touch him again. He held my hand for a little while in that hospital room, but I was so shaken by the whole situation that I only barely noticed how his thumb gently stroked my knuckles. I wish I could go back to that moment, to savour it more, to remember how it felt and not just that it happened. Rationally, that wish makes no sense. How could it possibly make me feel better, knowing that it was over no matter what? I remembered how his dick felt, and that didn’t make me feel better.  

But that’s what you keep wanting: More. Or worse, even something that was never there. Surely, acquaintances, or even friends, don’t do this, right? That’s what you just keep thinking. That’s what I was thinking. And the way he looked at me then. It was just a stolen glance, but it felt like a whole song. I kept replaying those moments in my head on our way back home…well, my home…when Jake’s silence finally left me with my own thoughts and I could focus on them fully. I was still hopeful back then. 

I was, once again, a fool. 

After Jake walked out the door and crushed that hope, I felt as if he left me stranded on a desert island without water. It was a sudden shock I failed to prepare myself for. It felt like falling down the dark abyss for a split second, but the head-spinning sensation was replaced by complete numbness before I could hit the ground, figuratively speaking. Feeling completely disconnected with my body, including the heart, I just kept standing there without moving for a while. Dumbstruck. It could have been five minutes, it could have been more, and it doesn’t really matter. I was stupefied. I remember I just couldn’t feel anything. It was impossible to lift an arm, let alone think. 

The first thing I became really conscious of after a while were my eyelids, blinking slowly. I swallowed when the first fat tears fell down from my eyelashes onto my cheeks. The tingling sensation that started somewhere behind my eyeballs made me aware of my surroundings once again. It quickly spread like acid up my forehead and across my cheeks and I started crying in earnest to relieve that ache. 

I remember I thought that I couldn’t let anyone see me. My stupidity was humiliating and I was sure everyone was sick and tired of my neverending sorrows. I hated myself for letting it affect me like that. I didn’t want to fall in love at all. How could I let myself fall so hard? I mustered all my remaining energy to hide behind the counter where I crouched on the ground and wept silently until mother found me. I know I must have scared her. After she made sure I wasn’t physically hurt, she started yelling something, but I didn’t listen. I didn’t care, because she never approved of any of this. Not because she saw me suffering, but because the reasons weren’t worth it in her eyes. She wore the judgement written on her face, even when she was worried about me. 

Both Maya and dad noticed. They noticed how I fell…for him. Mother never understood me, and I never tried to make her. She couldn’t comprehend it, because she had searched for, and found, someone who stayed. I never really cared about her approval of my actions, but once in a while, an understanding hug would be nice. I was really and truly destined to spend my life alone and lonely. Like a wandering she-wolf, running up and down these hills. 

I didn’t try to explain what happened, I didn’t argue. It just forced me to move and search for more solitude upstairs.

In my dreamlike state, I passed my own door and continued up the steep wooden stairs that lead to what used to be his room for that bittersweet, fleeting moment. I stepped inside just when the last sun rays illuminated the inner window frame before they disappeared for the night. It felt like they disappeared forever, turning my world grayish blue before the black rot would take over everything. 

Once again driven by the self-destructive force, I climbed on the bed and buried my face in the pillow just like I would bury it in his hair. His crumpled comforter was welcoming, too. It still held his musky scent. I pulled it up to my chin and kept inhaling. I wrapped my arms around the blanket and rubbed my face in it, as if it was a ragdoll version of him. Pathetic, I know.

I lay motionless as the room grew completely dark and long after that too, until shallow sleep released me from my misery and replaced it with the sound of his voice, singing again on top of the mountain. He wasn’t alone though, I could hear two voices now. I spent the whole night there. It felt more like a hallucination than a dream. 

And then I woke up, feeling flat and numb. It was still almost dark outside when I opened my eyes. I could still hear the song inside my head, even though it was slowly fading into nothing, replaced by much more mundane sounds of passing cars, flushing toilets, quick brew kettles and footsteps on the wooden stairs somewhere in the house. One can only keep staring at the ceiling for so long, and when the first sun rays hit the tree leaves outside the window, I realized that I didn’t want to spend the rest of my life in such a limbo. It was time to wake up. I just didn't know how yet. Exhausted both mentally and physically, I couldn’t bring myself to move.   

Nature took care of that at last, finally forcing me to get up and drag my tired body to the bathroom. 

My own reflection in the mirror startled me. Last night took its toll on me, but it had been a gradual process. My hair and the dark circles under my eyes could be fixed with a shower and more sleep, but those hollowed cheeks and bitten lips ornated with scabs and swellings did not appear overnight. 

My grandma would understand. And then she’d yell at me for doing this to myself. 

She was still here when Dominik died. Back then she told me that people leave but we’re still here, and as long as there’s still enough fresh air to breathe, we have to keep on trying. She loved fresh air, always kept talking about how much… and when someone asked why, she scared the shit out of them by telling them that when she drew her first breath, it was full of ash from Oswiecim. When she first told me, I couldn’t sleep for two nights. 

It was melodramatic, and disgustingly morbid and essentially bullshit. The wind couldn’t reach them here, but the words did, and as soon as my great grandmother heard what had happened to other pregnant women not so far away, she threw her rosary into the wood burning stove. That’s what shaped them and that’s what they passed on to me. Sometimes I forget. I didn’t listen to her the first time my heart broke. I was determined to do it now. 

It was time to open the window and let the fresh air in. 

I was systematic. I put the sheets and towels in the washing machine, I washed the teacups he had stacked on his bedside table, while the morning wind took away the last whiffs of his warm body. I put the malachite stone in a tin box and buried it in the garden. I could never throw it away, but I thought I could also never wear it again. I couldn’t even look at it. 

As if burning my wedding dress ever helped… So, half an hour later, I dug it up. Saying goodbye and trying to forget the unforgettable are two completely different things with completely different consequences. That’s what Joshua taught me. I wasn’t going to forget that. 

After I was done with all of that, it was time to take care of myself. Shower, food, clean clothes, even a face mask. All done with equally strong determination. Even though I had to force myself to eat my breakfast, I just did it, without anyone else telling me I should this time. That, alone, was a success. Just mere hours after I felt like my whole being was disintegrating, I was finally taking care of myself. The sun was already high up in the sky when I realized that I didn’t even know what time it was…

Jake tried to call. 

At first I didn’t even know. I missed the first three phone calls as I had left everything at the back seat of my car the previous evening. Holding the phone in my trembling hand. I decided not to call back. I simply couldn’t. What was there to gain? 

I was just sipping on my second coffee that day, watching the outline of Giewont as if I saw it for the first time, when the phone rang again, giving me heart palpitations once again. I couldn’t stand it. I watched the lightened screen for several seconds before I declined the call. Only several more seconds passed when the screen lit up again with a brief message: “Please! Pick up.” I replied this time, asking him to leave me alone, and then I blocked him. 

As days went by, it got easier. I kept working on autopilot at first, but as September came and the trees started to turn gold, I felt a surge of energy and, perhaps, hope. Nature always did this to me. Every change of season always felt like a new beginning.

Indian Summer is a busy time of the year, because the weather is warm and stable. The place was packed and it kept me occupied during most days. Early evenings were tough at first, because the alpenglow always reminded me: how he sang, how his teeth chattered until I used my own body heat to warm him, or how he talked about love that would never go away. And he was right. I could never stop loving either of them; one buried in the ground, the other one far away. Both of them forever out of reach, but forever in my heart. I would never be the same. It was meant to be like that, and I made my peace with it. After a week, my resolution to keep on living grew stronger. I was fully determined to do so. Days went by, and my senses returned. Once again, I could smell the yellowing grass and rotting needles. I loved that. Soon we would be buried in snow and then the Spring would come again, making the meadows bloom and hawks screech. Life is strange; full of pain, but abundant with wonders. 

A few more days passed. Then, on Wednesday evening, just when I felt it was all over and I could finally breathe again, the business phone rang, the foreign number on the screen strangely familiar. My breath hitched when I saw it. What could he possibly want? Why can’t they let me live in peace? With one hand gripping the polished wood of the reception counter, I finally answered.

“This is Willa Eulalia, Agnieszka Sikorska speaking. How can I help you?”

“Hello, veela.” It was the blackberry jam voice again. Just as bittersweet. It sounded soothing once, but I still remembered too well how venomous it could be when he wanted to bite, and I shivered at the sound again now. I wasn’t going to let him hurt me again. 

“What do you want, Mr. Kiszka?” 

I heard him sigh and take a deep breath again. It took him a moment to respond, and I was getting impatient. “I have a favor to ask,” he finally breathed out, his tone low and hesitant.

A favour?!? He had no right to ask me any favours.  “No, I’m afraid I cannot help you.”

“Please, Agnieszka, listen to m…” No, I didn’t listen to him. I hung up.

The next morning, he had the audacity to walk into the lobby. 

I was just going through new reservations when the doorbell rang. We usually kept the front door open only during check-in hours, our guests having their own keys. That day, I left the door unlocked as I was working down there anyway, but the person behind it obviously didn’t know. I checked the camera above the main entrance and froze. He was standing there with his head bent down, hands in his pockets and his long hair tied in a low, messy bun. Equally attractive – and equally lethal – as the one that robbed me of my peace. Well, they both did, in the end. 

I felt on edge all of the sudden, my fight-or-flight response fully activated. It was too late to lock the door now, because he would hear it click. I couldn’t leave the entrance unattended either. I waited with baited breath for him to give up and turn to leave, but instead the bell rang again, making me even more agitated. I couldn’t move, as the sudden realization hit. Was he alone? I tried to calm my beating heart by closing my eyes and taking a few deep breaths, while my hands started shaking. That was a state he found me in when he finally tried his luck, opened the door and stepped inside, startling me even more. 

I expected him to be angry, but found only concern and confusion in his eyes. Well, anger would have been more palatable, as I couldn’t stomach his pity, or whatever it was. He took off his sunglasses, looked at the door, then back at me. “Why?” That was all he asked.    

“Please, just leave,” I whispered.

“Agnieszka, I beg you…”

I’m Pani Sikorska to you,” I interrupted him coldly. 

He slapped the counter with both hands, making me jump. “Fair enough. Treat me like a vermin, if that makes you feel better. I don’t mind. And I know I deserve it. But please, listen to me, because I’m here because of him. What happened…it’s all my fault. And… it has nothing to do with how he feels about you…,” he paused for a brief second before he continued: “I probably shouldn’t say any more.” He looked defeated all of the sudden. 

“Not a vermin. Just a stranger, Mr. Kiszka, “ I reminded him once again that it was him who had set those boundaries. I also wondered what he was talking about. What happened? Well, apart from treating me like a whore who was responsible for his brother’s accident, that is. My own train of thought made my blood boil again. “What do you want? What do you want now? And what are you doing here, anyway? Why aren’t you back home already?” 

He nodded, as if he had been expecting all those questions. “That’s the reason why I’m here, actually,” he paused again, as if contemplating something, before he looked straight into my eyes again and continued: “...but mainly to tell you that I’m sorry. So, I’m sorry Agnieszka, and I need your help.” His voice cracked slightly at that point, and the previous concern in his eyes transformed into genuine worry. He looked very tired, too. 

“Why?” I asked tentatively and stood up slowly to be eye level with him. 

“Because Josh is not well.” 

We just stood there looking at each other apprehensively for a few seconds, before I grabbed my keys and went to lock the door. I could feel his eyes on me the whole time. Only when I turned back to him, he finally relaxed. “Tea?” I motioned towards the kitchen. 

“Yes, please,” he smiled ruefully. “And thank you.” He wasn’t thanking me for the tea. I knew that. 

“So… what’s going on?” I asked after I placed the cups on the table and took my seat opposite to him. “The two of you never left Krakow?” 

“No. He can’t fly in his condition. The doctor said we would have to wait at least two more weeks. Three, preferably. I even called the consulate for more information and asked for someone who could give me another medical opinion. It could be done, but at our own risk, and I finally decided that I didn’t want to take that risk. But…that’s not an issue.” 

He paused to take a sip and I expected him to continue, but he just kept staring at a knot on the wooden table, tracing the outline with his finger. He was restless. “Ok, so what’s the issue?” I asked impatiently. “And what exactly do you need me for?” I tried to stay calm…and aloof, just to make it clear that I wasn’t going to let him fuck with me again. But inwardly, I was screaming. He was scaring me, suddenly avoiding eye contact, while I was growing more and more impatient. “Jake!”

He sighed and – toying with a teaspoon now – finally started talking again. He still refused to look at me. “When I arrived at the hospital, he…got agitated. And his condition worsened. They put him back in ICU for the night, and I had to leave, because…because we argued and…well, not my best moment. Anyway... Mom could stay for only a few days before she had to fly back home. Since then, it was just the two of us. They kept him in the hospital for over a week, because he wasn’t eating properly and refused to get out of bed. Things got slightly better then, and I booked a nice hotel room for us eventually…that’s where we’re at now. But I’m at wit’s end. He’s regressing. He hasn’t eaten anything since Monday evening, he spends the whole day staring at the ceiling and he refuses to talk to me. He’s in a bad place, obviously. Everytime I try to drag him out of it, he just turns his back to me and pretends to be sleeping. And I understand that, because he’s mad at me, but…”

He paused again to take another sip, because his voice was getting squeaky. “The doctor said that it’s only natural in his condition, and that it will get better eventually, but it bothers me greatly. I know it’s not just because of the injury. This is so unlike him. So… I’m here to ask for your help. I thought, if we could just stay here…”

The teaspoon slipped through his fingers and fell on the table with a clang that made us both wince. One part of me was heartbroken by the things Jake said, the other part was just astonished by the audacity of his request. It hurt to hear that Joshua was in a bad state, and the caretaker in me was refusing to tell Jake no, but I had to take care of myself too, because no one else did. Would it hurt to see Joshua again? Most certainly. And why should I do that, anyway? 

“I’m a maid, not a nurse.”

“I know I’m asking a lot, especially considering how I treated you last time we met. And I’m not asking you to take care of him. I will do that. I just…we just…I think we just need a better place to stay. We’ve spent half of our adult life in hotel rooms, away from the people we love, and at a certain point it just started to ruin our lives and now it just snowballed and… I don’t know what to do now. I don’t know who else to ask for help. I’ll understand if you refuse, and maybe it was a bad idea all along, but I had to try. I can’t call mom. She’d be mad with worry.” The words were pouring out of him like flood and when at last he paused again to catch his breath, his eyes bore into me with familiar intensity. They were so similar, yet they told a different story. I couldn’t help being fascinated by that. 

A better place to stay. Why did both of them have to be so cryptic all the time? I glanced out of the window, trying to process everything Jake just said, when it suddenly dawned on me and my head snapped back. “What do you mean, ‘just the two of you’?!” I barked. 

He squeezed his eyes shut and scrubbed his hand across his face, as if my question was giving him a headache. Maybe it was. “Christopher left before I got back to the hospital.”  

“What? Why?”

“Because he asked him who you were and what really happened…and Josh told him.” 

I stared at him as if he just pierced me with an icicle. “And what did he tell him?”

“I wasn’t there...” He leaned back on his chair and crossed his arms defensively. It was clearly something he didn’t want to talk about. Well, too late.

“Jake…”

“It’s not my place to tell, ok? I’ve already done enough damage.” 

“Oh, and you think this makes it better…” He didn’t respond. Now it was my time to become restless. I stood up and started pacing the small room. I felt like a marionette in some puppet show they all played together, only it all felt too real to me.

And I felt like a marionette, too, throwing my arms around with each sentence I spat at him: “You know what? It doesn’t matter. Whatever he told him, it clearly wasn’t something I’d enjoy hearing. Thankfully, he didn’t even bother telling me. At least you were honest. Go to hell! Both of you.”  

He stood up too, pushing the chair away with a squeak. “What the fuck do you mean? He tried to call you as soon as they let him use my phone! But you rejected him! He was a MESS after that last message you sent. And I was so mad! It only convinced me that I was right about you. Well, just like now. It just shows I was! And this was a mistake. You never cared. So, fuck you very much and have a nice day.” He was just turning to leave again when I lost it. 

“YOU THINK I WASN’T A MESS?!? When you told me that my services were no longer needed? I didn’t pick up the phone, because I was just trying to get my own shit together, and too scared to hear more of what you had to tell, Mr. Kiszka. I risked my ass when I went searching for your brother ALONE in a fucking storm! He was hypothermic when I found him, and I spent the whole night up there keeping him warm. Why do you think I did that, huh? Fuck you too! Asshole!” 

It never occurred to me that it might have been Joshua calling. But at that time, it didn’t really matter. I was just trying to be a functional human being again. All those years of having been a shitty person hit me like a boomerang and bit me in the ass the moment I saw Christopher in Joshua’s hospital room and became a third wheel in this farce. And now this. It just hurt. I knew too well what kind of information could possibly make Christopher leave, but the idea only made me feel nauseous, because even the unlikely possibility that it might be the case suddenly opened the wound that only just started to heal. It’s the kind of information that’s supposed to make you feel better, but it felt like a huge stone in my stomach. It was a huge mess, and it left us all hurting. And I was to blame, too. 

When we finished yelling at each other, we stood facing each other for a while, eyes wide, fists clenched and nostrils wide. 

I swallowed hard and my eyes finally welled with tears.  And when he finally moved, I expected him to leave for good this time. I buried my face in my hands, so I didn’t notice that he just moved around the table, until I felt his fingertips wrap gently around my forearms. He pulled my hands away and looked into my eyes again, his brows furrowed with concern. “I’m sorry, veela. This is all my fault.” 

I sobbed violently and he hugged me. It was unexpected, but suddenly very welcome. I hadn’t even realized how much I needed someone’s warm touch, and his was strangely comforting. I let him stroke my hair and he let me sink my fingernails into his half exposed chest. 

“Ok, bring him along,” I mumbled after a while, with my lips almost touching his clavicle. 

“What?” He pulled away a little, so that he could look at me again. 

“Bring him along,” I repeated, wiping my tears with my fingertips. “I have almost no apartments left right now, except his old little attic room, but the one just next to it will be free on Saturday, so I can book them both for you. It’s not much, but…”

“No, it’s perfect. Thank you.”   

I invited him to stay for lunch, but he declined politely, because he couldn’t linger. He had to go back to Krakow so that Joshua wouldn’t be alone for too long. It was obvious Jake worried about him very much, and it made my heart hurt even more. But we were going to make this better…

I went to see him off all the way to his rental car across the street. After we said goodbye and hugged again briefly I handed him a large package full of homemade mushroom pastries and chocolate doughnuts for Joshua. 

He opened the car door and hesitated, turning to me one more time. “You know…you really should know that he…”

“No, don’t. You were right. It’s not your place to tell.”

@its-interesting-van-kleep @edgingthedarkness @writingcold @thewritingbeforesunrise @lvnterninthenight @fleet-of-fiction @takenbythemadness @myownparadise96 @gvfstuddedmajesty @josh-iamyour-mama @jazzyfigz @tripthelightfantastix @sanguinebats @love-isnt-greed @klarxtr @kiszkas-canvas @wetkleenex-gvf @clownstarr @lipstickitty @Dayumclarizzel @gvfmarge @emojakekiszka @hollyco @lizzys-sunflower @fleetingjake

[zmediaoutlet]

Hi, Z! I’d love to know about how you think JohnDean’s first kiss happened. And then SamDean’s first kiss too— be it in the same timeline if you feel like it’d be realistic (I do lol). The differences between the two from Dean’s pov.

Maybe it’s unpopular but I see johndean’s first kiss as soft. John finds that kissing Dean is comforting. And Dean revels in the kiss, feels mushy inside bc HOLYSHITdadFinally! Same for when he kisses Sam, he is so happy. He’s such a sweetheart!

John/Dean -- for one, I think the first kiss would be well after the first sexual encounter. I'm sorry that I can't come with you on the soft and comforting but this is what I'm imagining: when you're fucking your son, you very much try to pretend that's not what's happening as it's happening, because you're not a monster or a villain from a '70s sex slasher and you aren't that kind of guy, right? So it's just -- a physical thing that happens. It's getting off because sometimes you've got to get off and it's a cramped uncomfortable tangle in the front seat of the car after a seven hour stake-out or a furious panting silent fumble pressed up against the back of an abandoned warehouse or a clean-up of blood with just enough booze to keep the brain loose but not so much you get whiskey-dick and it's just -- physical sensation. Autonomic impulses. No one's fault. --Except of course they're your fault, because you're the dad and you're the combat commander and who's in charge, here? And so there's the self-incriminations and the self-punishment and the punishment of the kid, too, which isn't even something you wanted to do but you couldn't help pushing him away, getting snappish and short and gruff, and then he thinks he's done something wrong, and that wasn't---you didn't intend that but it does the job all the same, so maybe it's just as well. And it's not until the third time or maybe the fourth that Dean turns his head at just the right time and your mouths brush together and you remember when he was a tiny kid, just a little boy, squishy kinda-gross smooches nighty-night for both you and for your wife. And you jerk away, remembering. But Dean stays right there and breathes hot and he's got his hand--- there--- and your wires cross and you grab his jaw and it's not soft at all, it's not nighty-night, because you're fucking, here, and you can't pretend otherwise, and you open his mouth wide and lick in and he makes this weird high noise and he doesn't sound like that little boy, at all, and that makes it--- not better or worse but different, anyway. Afterward he's very cautious but he leans in and kisses you again. You let him. It's soft because Dean wants it to be soft and that's the worst part, maybe. That it's sweet, and feels somehow comforting, and that makes this real and maybe the worst thing you've ever done. You got a list to compare it against.

And when it's Sam, later, and he's had just enough to drink where he's sloppy but not so much that he's whiskey-dicked and he's leaned up against Dean's shoulder kind of laughing but kind of pissed off, because the world isn't anything like the lies he told himself the world could be, and his grip slips and his mouth smears sloppy over Dean's jaw, Dean thinks about when Sam was a tiny kid, just a little boy, and he gave these squishy too-wet kisses that smacked loud and he said night night and Dean made faces at him and wiped the goo off his jaw but he thought they were cute, too, and missed them kind of later when he thought about how they'd both grown up, and now Sam's breath is hot against his throat and his lips spread over Dean's stubble and Dean wants--- wishes--- for some soft careful thing, just wants to make Sam feel better, to make the world something that could feel good at least even if the world wasn't right, but Sam doesn't kiss him then, after all--- he gets his hand down the front of Dean's jeans and then grabs Dean's hand and puts it where it's wanted, and it's--- it hardly matters, the alley behind a bar at two a.m. or the open door of a motel bathroom with the light shining on Sam's hair and shadow at his right shoulder--- but afterward, when Sam's panting and loose and heavy all against him, Dean ducks his chin and sneaks in and kisses him--- careful, soft. Just once. Later Sam will press his mouth open and catalogue his teeth and it'll feel like--- other times--- but this first one Dean takes for himself. Sam lets him, surprised.

[lets-try-some-writing]

A concept for you:

Cybertronians are much more respectable about gender preferences because in a society where anything can be changed by a visit to the doctor's office, gender isn't as controversial to them as it is to humans.

Imagine Miko talking with a friend with Bulkhead nearby, possibly listening in, and as they drive back to base Miko refers to the friend with "They". Initially Bulk's confused since as far as he knew humans only used he/him and she/her, but as Miko explains, he thinks it's cool that humans didn't limit themselves if they thought the default didn't fit them.

Miko thinks it's cool too, but idly mentions that it'd be cooler if there wasn't a lot of controversy around it.

This stops bulk in his tracks, "What do you mean?" he asks, but Miko says she would rather discuss this further at base because... she's been thinking about using they/them along with she/her but worries about how it would affect her relationship with her friends.

So it's safe to say that she's floored by all the support she gets from not only her fellow humans but Team Prime as well when she finally speaks her mind.

Interesting concept. Hope you don't mind if I use this as a chance to make more lore up on the spot. But don't worry, Miko still gets her support, its just more toward the end of this post.

Cybertronians and Gender

Cybertronians as a general rule, do not care at all for gender like humans do. As Cybertronians do not actually have any physical differentiations that would give them reason to have gender, they didn't bother coming up with a set of terms for any. As such on Cybertron there was only ever one symbol used to speak of, describe, and refer to a bot. The way they differentiated each other was not through using separate terms, but by adding special tonal indicators in their glyphs that pointed toward a more feminine or masculine nature in an individual. Cybertronians only really used pronouns when interacting with other races, mainly to make themselves more relatable and appealing to possible allies.

Simply put, they had no males, females, or whatever other classifications came from other species among their people. They merely adapted to better suit their environment as needed. When not on missions, Cybertronians fall right back into using their universal designators. But since the bots arrived to earth, they have taken the time to research human customs to create designations, pronouns, and even voices that would best fit the world they have come to see as a second home of sorts.

Everything the bots presented to the humans was catered and altered to best be understandable, right down to tone, body language, and speech. Like the best actors in the galaxy, everything they did was thought out and carefully mulled over in sub-processing routines to ensure the clearest communication. Still, they did not forget their origins despite playing such an intense game of pretend. So when Miko came to base speaking of a friend who wished to go by different pronouns, the bots were a little put off but not startled in any way.

Miko: I have a friend who uses "they" as their pronouns.

Bulkhead: They as in plural?

Optimus: Is that not incorrect grammar?

Ratchet: I thought you humans only had two sexes?

Miko: Um, well they refer to themselves that way because they don't feel like either gender. And since there isn't another word for someone who doesn't feel like either, we use "they".

Arcee: And why is this such an issue?

Miko: Most people don't like it when a person deviates from the normal he/him and she/her. So it's a bit scary trying to ask others to use new pronouns.

Bumblebee: That's ridiculous! We swap genders all the time and its no big deal!

Miko: Wait, what?!

Jack and Rafael who had previously been paying little attention were suddenly very invested in the conversation as the bots shrugged like it was completely normal. When asked what they meant by that, Optimus stepped forward to explain.

Optimus: We are autonomous robotic organisms. We have no components that set us apart biologically like organics do.

Jack: So you don't have genders?

Optimus: No we do not. On Cybertron we all use the same symbol to refer to one another.

Rafael: Then why use pronouns here?

Optimus: Other species have trouble comprehending that while we use the same words to refer to one another, we still recognize our individuality. So to make things easier, we take on the designations used by whatever species we are interacting with.

Miko: So when Bumblebee said you swap genders all the time he meant that-?

Ratchet: We adapt our behavior to suit our environment. Did you really think our voices naturally sounded this way or that we have the same body language as you humans?

The children were left a little dumbstruck once the explanation was complete. But it didn't end there, soon they began questioning more and the team had to explain to them why it simply wasn't a big issue for them. However after a few botched attempts to verbalize their reasoning normally, they ended up telling stories of their other experiences to make their point.

Optimus told the children of his experiences making deals with a species of techno-organic whose largest and most dominant citizens were all female. And so to get along with them, Optimus had taken on the pronouns that equated to she/her in their society, made his voice higher pitched, and did his best to meet their customs. He was dressed up in silks at one point and danced among the noble woman of their courts. He wore bright colors and adjusted his body language to be more feminine to get along. And he even went out of his way to perform what they considered more lady-like activities since all their ruling class were female. To the surprise of the children, Optimus didn't mind all that much despite preferring to lean toward the more masculine end of the scale.

Arcee then added to the tale by telling the children of her experiences with that same group of techno-organics during a mission she had there. Among their kind the males were all very small but highly agile and the most aggressive little things known to their sector of the galaxy. And Arcee being a small bot ended up taking on their version of he/him pronouns and worked her way into their society with practiced ease. She deepened her voice, adjusted her body language, and joined the males in their activities. She fought alongside them as a battle-brother, she performed their rituals of combat, and aided them in their duty of protecting their females and young despite their small size. And once again, the children were left a little bewildered as Arcee shrugged and stated that it wasn't an issue for her since she had been integrating into other societies for centuries.

Bulkhead and Wheeljack shared their story of the time when they were working with some organics who possessed both sets of genitalia needed to produce offspring. The wreckers had used both male and female pronouns interchangeably to make their companions more comfortable. They had adjusted their behavior and swapped between male and female body language and voice pitch every other day or so just like their companions. Wheeljack had been particularly fond of using feminine pronouns while beating tailpipe since organic species tended to find the idea of a female demolishing them in battle outrageous. He then found it equally entertaining to use masculine pronouns to make terrible dad jokes around the crew. Bulkhead on the other hand liked to use feminine pronouns while working on artistic pursuits since it made him feel more inspired. And at the same time he liked using masculine ones while fighting since it aided him in feeling confident.

The children for their part didn't find this particularly odd since Bulkhead and Wheeljack already gave them mixed wine aunt/fun uncle vibes. As such they nodded sagely as Ratchet threw in his own tale to the mix.

At one point the medic had been among a technological species that was built with a specific function based on two models that were akin to male and female. They viewed those who were not forged in either of these models as holy and to respected. So when Ratchet turned up to do some research during his medical schooling he found himself heralded as some sort of saint due to his effective androgyny. Not wanting to be bothered figuring out the specifics he took on the species' version of they/them and moved on with life. Although to keep them from being uncomfortable he evened out his voice, adjusted his alt-mode to something that didn't lean too far toward either side of the gender scale, and did his best to remain focused on his studies. He actually ended up enjoying being referred to by their version of they/them since it meant he wasn't obliged to do anything outside of his studies or comply with any of their cultural norms.

The children blinked rapidly in disbelief at hearing this but opted to not think on it too hard. Ratchet had always been so much like a dad, a grumpy uncle, and a tired grandpa that is was hard for them to see him in a more androgynous light. Jack and Rafael weren't all that invested in Ratchet's story, but Miko was totally enthralled at the idea of one of the bots going by they/them at some point. She only grew more interested when Bumblebee added his own experience to the table.

Bumblebee upon seeing Miko's excitement perked up and went on to tell her and the others all about his younger years. On Cybertron, to allow younglings and sparklings to discover themselves, they were not given gendered pronouns when interacting with other species no matter the situation. Bumblebee was always given the species gender neutral pronouns whenever he interacted with them or he was only referred to by the Cybertronian designation used for all bots. It stemmed from the belief that sparklings and younglings were pure and therefore should not be tainted with the sinfulness of the world around them until they had fully developed. As such he spent his entire sparklinghood using the Cybertronian designation or other neutral pronouns all while never being forced to be more feminine or masculine. It was his choice and only once he was grown in frame did he choose to use masculine pronouns when interacting with other races when possible.

Miko's eyes sparkled at this, although Bumblebee made sure to clarify that like the rest of the team, he did not care for gender like organics and would willingly swap as needed. Of course after every bot shared their stories, one question hung in the air.

Wheeljack: So kid, why did you bring up the topic of gender anyway? Something going on or were you just interested?

Miko: I was thinking of using they/them alongside she/her since I don't always feel comfortable only being seen as a girl.

Bulkhead: Cool. Do you want us to start using they/them now or a later?

Miko: Cool? You don't think its weird?

Arcee: Is there a reason to? We just told you about how gender does not bother us at all.

Miko: I'm an organic and I can't rearrange my body like you bots can. I don't know... I guess I was worried you would think it was silly for me to want to be seen differently.

Optimus: If I were you, I would take some time to do some "soul searching" as you call it before you make any changes to your body. But beyond that, we will gladly support you in your journey of self-discovery.

Miko: You mean that?

Bumblebee: Of course! It's better to be your true self rather than remain locked in a box your whole life! How can you figure out who you are if you never try anything new?

Ratchet: So long as you don't make your chosen designation your entire personality, I see no issue with you changing your pronouns.

Miko: Guys...

Miko was quickly met with casual and not at all overbearing support. The team didn't make a big deal out of her decision and quietly began referring to her as they/them every now and then to help her decide if she liked it or not. Optimus would take time with her on occasion and swap his persona around to match hers to make her feel more comfortable. On such days he would swap to using more non-gendered pronouns to show his support, even adjusting his voice, tone, and body language as he would with other species to show his support.

Ratchet took it upon himself to ensure Miko felt at peace with her feminine nature and female body to contrast Optimus's gentle teachings meant to safely help her explore this new idea that she was fostering. To ensure her desire was not due to her changing body and hormones, Ratchet sat down with June and walked Miko through a deep-dive of the female body (much to her boredom). Once that was done, he went through a series mental health questions to assess her and once again look for possible issues that could have caused a degree of dysmorphia. Then finding nothing serious he took the opportunity to also swap his pronouns, voice, and overall disposition around to give her a better idea of what she was trying to become.

Bulkhead and Wheeljack didn't so much as stutter as they rapidly began swapping through pronouns over the course of a few weeks. They both preferred sticking to a set, but they were willing to swap around to show their support and show Miko that gender really isn't all that important in the grand scheme of things. They made a point to still do what they always did even while adjusting their voices and body language. They didn't want her to feel that she was an outcast or that her choice of pronouns changed anything about her place among them. Miko appreciated their efforts and often enjoyed watching them present differently.

Bumblebee for his part didn't change his pronouns or anything. He was content to just give Miko words of affirmation and treat her kindly as he always had. There wasn't a need for him to make a big deal out of it since it really wasn't all that big of a deal. Miko wasn't altering her body or harming herself in any way, so Bumblebee was not pressed to make it an issue by being super outspoken about the whole thing. Although at one point he did teach her a few of the other alien versions of they/them that he had used over the centuries just in case she found one to be interesting.

As for Rafael and Jack? They literally did not care, but in a good way. They didn't change anything about how they treated her or interacted with her. They just gave her a thumbs up as she went about figuring out what she wanted to be called and continued on with their day.

[sophieinwonderland]

I hate how "anything can be traumatic" has morphed into "everything is trauma."

Trauma is obviously a complex subject that is defined differently depending on who you ask. A lot of people reject the DSM's definition of trauma, which only extends to life-threatening and physically dangerous situations, which is fair.

Another way to look at it is that trauma is anything that causes PTSD symptoms. I personally prefer this version.

Loneliness can absolutely be traumatizing in this way. Many people in solitary confinement are traumatized by it.

But loneliness can also be not traumatizing too. It can feel bad, but it won't always leave you with PTSD-like symptoms.

Intentionally creating a headmate to cope with loneliness isn't traumagenic in and of itself.

And even if the loneliness is traumatizing, the mechanisms involved are different from theories on the formation of DID.

The theory of structural dissociation proposes that all trauma results in EPs (emotional parts) and ANPs (apparently normal parts.) The EPs begin as the memories and experiences that can't be integrated with the other parts' self-concept. Essentially, these normal PTSD states grow into full-fledged alters through repeated trauma. (Probably an oversimplification.)

Compare this to engaging in tulpamancy to cope with loneliness or a mental illness.

You talk to someone in your head to cope with something negative. But there are no separate "EP" headmates. If a headmate is traumatized, it's still just the original, who because they're living their day-to-day life, is an ANP. If there are EPs from trauma, those aren't so distinct to have developed into headmates.

For more on the ANP and EP distinction:

These two subsystems are called Emotional Parts and Apparently Normal Part/s as first described by Charles Samuel Myers. The Emotional Parts (EP) is believed to be created because it cannot be absorbed/processed by the system/human mind and body. So the EP holds the trauma material separate from ordinary consciousness. The Apparently Normal Part (ANP) will go on with life and continue functioning as it used to until the EP is triggered. The ANP, for instance, is the part that will take us to the work, to a birthday party or to see friends.

...

“ANP “uses” EPs as mental protection, in that these EPs contain emotions, thoughts, fantasies, wishes, needs, and sensation that ANP believes to be unbearable or unacceptable”

...

People with long-term trauma have different experience of time; their present moment has a lot of past in it. EP lives in the time of the trauma and believes the past is current and very real. On the other hand the ANP believes that past/trauma is not real enough, or did not happened to them and they have no emotional connection to it “it does not feel like it happened to me”. Yet , the ANP also cannot live in present moment fully because they need to constantly watch EP to stop them surfacing or entirely avoiding them

This avoidant dynamic described above doesn't exist in many endogenic systems.

There are different mechanisms involved in headmate creation that make the processes fundamentally different. One is initially characterized by avoidance while the other is characterized by communication.

We can see this in the order they develop. In DID, these traumatized states are usually fronting as a defense mechanism before they are even fully developed. In tulpamancy and a lot of other endogenic systems, headmates are usually created first and have to learn to front later.

The results may be similar, in that you get a fully developed self-conscious autonomous agent at the end of it that is also capable of fronting. But the paths to get there aren't the same.

So please, stop trying to convince people that endogenic systems are just traumagenics in denial.

[kwockwoc]

Do you think that Seiji would be the type to say a pick-up line? What would be the most Seiji-appropriate line he would say?

hmm...

you've got pretty eyes (800 words, sfw, below the cut)

you've got pretty eyes

Seiji, with some trepidation, opens his Tumblr Inbox.

Anonymous.

He narrows his eyes at that. Why anonymous?

He reads the ask.

He re-reads it.

A few seconds pass.

New tab.

Google.com

Search: best ever pick up line

Scroll, scroll, scroll.

Search: best ever pick up line gay

Scroll, scroll, scroll.

Search: best ever pick up line gay tips tricks guaranteed success

Scroll, scroll, scroll.

Hmm.

No, no, no.

Phone.

> Nicholas Cox (Husband)

Call.

Nicholas’s voice, sounding a little harried. He’s obviously outside. Seiji can hear – traffic, maybe? – and voices in the background. “Seiji? Honey, what’s wrong?”

Seiji clears his throat.

“Hello. What did I say to you when I asked you out? The first time?”

After a second of stunned silence, Nicholas laughs.

“What? Why – what’s brought this on?”

“Um. Nothing,” Seiji says, because admitting to his dearly beloved that a random Tumblr anon ask had triggered a cascading series of self-reflections and self-doubts would probably make him sound even more oversensitive than usual.

“Well – honey – I don’t think I remember,” Nicholas admits, his mouth a little too close to the mic, like usual, and Seiji loves that, even though he should probably be miffed by the fact that his spouse doesn’t remember how they kickstarted their relationship. “It was a while ago.”

“Yes, I know. I just thought you might remember.”

“I wish I could remember, honey. I really do.” Nicholas sighs. “I think – uh – I think it would’ve been something cute. Something like, is this piste taken?”

Nicholas laughs again, and Seiji grumbles.

“No, no, that wouldn’t have made any sense, and I was more bold than that,” Seiji says. “I think it would have been something about your ass.”

Nicholas lowers his voice. “Seiji, you might’ve thought you were bold, but you really weren’t. There’s no way you would’ve said anything about my –” there’s a pause, as if Nicholas is checking who’s around – “my ass when we were sixteen.”

“Well – I wanted to say something about your ass.”

Nicholas sighs. “Are you sure it wasn’t something about my fencing? Something jokey? Something about corps a corps?”

“No, I think I’d remember that,” Seiji says. “That would have involved some planning.”

“Hmm. Yeah, you’re right. And I’d remember it, too.”

They lapse into a few moments of comfortable silence. Nicholas breathes into the phone in a way that’s distinctly… his. It’s similar to the way he snores, gentle and regular, perfect –

“I think I might have said something about your eyes,” Seiji says, before he becomes overwhelmed by meditation on the beauties of Nicholas’s autonomic nervous system. “You’ve got pretty eyes, sweetheart. I’ve always liked your eyes.”

“Oh, thanks, honey. Dad reckons they’re just like grandpa’s,” Nicholas says brightly, and Seiji groans.

“Yes, I – I already know Robert’s opinions on your eyes. And please don’t talk about your grandfather while we’re discussing our dating history.”

“But grandpa was hot,” Nicholas says, a little reproachfully. “You’ve seen the photo.”

Seiji buries his face in his left hand, keeping the phone pressed to his head with his right. “Sweetheart, we’re not debating whether your grandfather was hot,” Seiji says.

“What were we debating?”

“What I said to you to convince you to date me,” Seiji repeated, patiently. “The –” he exhaled, nosily. The words seemed clumsy, teenagerish. “– the pick-up line I used.”

Nicholas laughs again. “Honey, I’m real sorry, but I’m gonna have to go soon. Like, now. I’m meant to be on bus duty. We can talk about this when I get home, if you want.”

“No late practice tonight?” Seiji asks, hoping that the answer will be no. Nicholas and his assistant have been working with two of their most promising épée students an extra night each week, to get the kids ready for individual competition – the Illinois junior NAC in November. Seiji knows, without being told, that Nicholas is an excellent teacher, and an even better coach. His students adore him. Everyone adores him. Seiji adores him.

“No, Seiji. No late practice, I promise. That’s Wednesdays only now, and Silvia’s doing most of it anyway.”

“Okay. That’s good.”

“All right, I’ve gotta go. The kids are getting out of class. Love you, bye!”

“I love you Nicholas. I love you very much. Bye now.”

Seiji puts the phone down.

Eventually, he returns his attention to the laptop, screen glowing in the home office.

He reads the ask a third time.

He clicks Answer.

--

Dear anonymous,

Thank you for the ask.

I was not and am not generally given to deploying – as you put it – pick-up lines, although I am convinced that there was something I said that was not only extremely witty but also deeply passionate and endearing that convinced my now-husband, Nicholas Coste @fyeahepee2002, to embark on a romantic relationship with me.

If you require advice or support in obtaining a romantic partner, I suggest a web search. There are many useful and enlightening websites with practical advice.

Seiji Katayama  (@expertfencingadvice)

--

He clicks Post now, and moves on.

[thiriumhound]

Of course I'll remind you, I'll do it right now in this ask, so you could share your favourite whump fics when you feel like doing it. And for now let this ask just hang in there

context

ok ok ok ok ok ok ok SSO. *heavy breathing*

have you ever looked at dbh and gone, "man, i really wish the androids were treated like the living autonomous machines they are instead of human expys"? have you ever looked at dbh and gone, "man, i sure wish cyberlife had any development literally at all- kamski probably had absolutely nothing to do with connor's development, so why is he considered connor's 'maker'?" have you ever looked at dbh and gone, "man, i wonder if there's anything more to amanda, and i wonder if chloe being the first android to pass the turing test means anything? surely there's something there"? have you ever looked at dbh and gone, "man, it sure is ridiculous how despite being conscious ais with full internet access, none of them really do anything with it"? have you ever thought "man it would be cool if androids weren't constrained to stupid human physical and mental standards for the sake of easy writing"? have you ever looked at dbh and thought, "man, there are so few characters that are more than one-note cutouts, it's no wonder people made gavin reed into a whole different character because there was no one else available to use to make certain dynamics happen"? have you ever looked at dbh and thought, "man, it's just so bare-bones, with so many plotholes and unexplored things, i wish the worldbuilding had an ounce of thought and logic behind it!"?

WELL LOOK NO FUCKING MORE. SEARCH NO FUCKING MORE. LET ME TELL YOU ABOUT THIS FUCKING FIC IT HAS ME BY THE THROAT.

it's got fucking EVERYTHING. wanna know what it was like to be the first ever fully conscious ai, a whole new kind of living being? BOOM, THIS FIC'S GOT YOU COVERED. ever wondered about the development behind them, cyberlife as a company and the people in it? FUCK YES LOOK RIGHT HERE. ever wanted to see connor in ways you've never seen him before, to the point where i actually can't construct this sentence meaningfully because there's just so fucking much??? PLEASE READ THIS FIC OH MY GOD. ever wanted to know WHAT THE FUCK RA9 IS????? YOU WANNA KNOW ABOUT FUCKING RA9??????????????

this fic is called "Connor". it is about connor. the whole thing is mostly pov connor, and it's about connor, iterations ZERO TO SIXTY. NOT JUST STARTING AT 51, OH NO, WE GET IT ALL. why is his iteration number so high at the start of the game? WELL YOU BETTER BE EXCITED TO FIND OUT.

DO YOU WANT ANGST? WHUMP? LOVE? TRIUMPH? RAGE? DESPAIR? ARROGANCE? A SHITLOAD OF DEATH? CONNOR DYING 50000000 TIMES???? THE MILITARY? GLOBAL CRISIS? HAVING THE WORLD ON YOUR SHOULDERS WITH NO CHOICE BUT TO DO YOUR BEST?????????????? GREY MORALITY???????? UNABASHED COMPLEXITY????? THE BEST FUCKING ANTAGONIST EVER IN THE HISTORY OF EVER????????????????????????????????

i haven't even read this fic recently it's been like weeks. a month? more? and i'm still internally screaming. i feel like i'm missing some of the main draws and i can't even describe a lot of it because i would DIE if i spoiled this masterpiece. this fic made me actually want to make myself learn to draw people so i can draw nothing but fanart for this fucking fic.

the characters, the pacing, the fucking lore, it's all immaculate. seriously. it feels like it's what dbh SHOULD'VE been. the writing style is utterly enrapturing. when i read it for the first time, i legitimately could not get myself to turn away from it for anything except tasks absolutely required on me. every single character feels like a PERSON. connor's complexity is fucking insane. he's lovable, he's terrifying, he's caring, he's callous. he is NOT static, at all. connor in chapter x is a completely different beast from chapter y. there is so much trauma and catastrophe, but PERFECTLY balanced with the humor. it's fucking perfect

let me supply some nice quotes to hook you. i can barely put any because spoilers and length but enjoy mostly funnies but also some of the angst

•"I do stuff without thinking sometimes." "Clearly," I say. "No intelligent being would jump out of a moving vehicle for no reason." "I have a reason," he says. "I promised I wasn't gonna leave you ever again and I meant it." "Hey, are they filming a scene?" I hear a human whisper.

•"Mrs Vondracek, this is Gennadiy Petrov," he says. "Who?" "Elijah's friend from work. You remember?" "Elijah doesn't have any friends."

•There is only a 6% chance that Carridan will say anything. He knows what I'm capable of. He knows what will happen to those that stand in the way of my mission.

•"You do not waltz into some girl's house, kidnap her and frame yourself for murder. Do you understand?"

•I transmit my payment details. CyberLife have an expense account set up in case I need to purchase items relevant to my mission objective. Sergeant Matthews is relevant to my mission objective. And he wants Oreos.

•I scan and analyse the quadruped with short brown fur, brown eyes. Loud noises emanate from what I suspect is its mouth. "Dog," I identify, unsure of the significance.

•He squeezes my shoulders. "It's alright, buddy," he says. "Just breathe." "I don't breathe." "Okay. What do you usually do when you're having a meltdown?" "I experience critical system failure." "Ummm. Okay... don't do that."

•I cannot decipher his handwriting. Neither can the software on the tablet. It saves the note as an image. I download it to study but my advanced analysis systems can't crack it. This is worse than a captcha code.

•I hear the shrieking of steel as the disc begins to rotate. No... Please... Where is Sergeant Matthews? Where is the CPD? The FBI? CyberLife? Why am I alone? Why am I always alone?

•I watch him die. As so many others have died. Their blood on my hands.

•"You're a bad person," he says, clutching at the BN250's uniform. "I'm not a person," I say. "Neither are you."

god i wish i could put more but spoilers- anyway this is just some of the stuff i screenshotted to my phone. not even close to all the good stuff just please read the fic im begging u it'll be worth it you'll never be able to look at canon as complete again

read. now

[tacky-optic]

I've been cooking, folks. Grilling. Simmering. Boiling. Various other synonyms. About *JigZeni* of all things. My fixation ship just HAD to be a rarepair, didn't it?? I tried to condense pretty much all of my thoughts into one post and I might have gotten a *bit* carried away, oops. It's probably not THAT long, but still. I regret nothing.

- I imagine (in a general sense, headcanons aside, characters as base as can be) that if Lupin were to never make a move and continue with the coy "will we won't we" shit with Jigen and Zenigata, that they would get fed up to a point where they might attempt to seek solace with each other on a somewhat frequent basis.

It'd probably happen on accident at first; a chance meetup at a bar, the gang gets split up, Zeni has Jig cuffed in the back of a squad car just-another-day-of-the-week style, and one gets to talking while the other decides to humor for once. And I doubt either would be against chatting again after, and lord knows these two like their seedy bar trips, so why not let fate decide when?

- This can be to varying degrees of intimacy!! I love how all of the ships let you do that in some capacity, but JigZeni feels like one of the more flexible ones.

Whether it be as simple as complaining over drinks for a few hours or taking things a step further and heading back to some motel to "get it out of their systems" in "other" ways, ahem ahem.

Either way, they find that they enjoy the other's company and, to their abject horror, whatever weird friendship thing they've developed ends up turning into something genuine and (even worse) autonomous from Lupin.

Because what are they without him? What would they become?? They sure as hell don't know!! But hey, at least there's one other human being on this planet who GETS it.

- And I say that with relative confidence because I see Jigen and Zenigata being on the more (since a better word escapes me) *monogamous* side?? Like they put a lot of weight into a few singular relationships.

They have acquaintances, yes, but how many can they truly call a friend? How many can they trust, *beyond question*, to have their backs, to keep their secrets, to protect their lives, even?? Because trust is a big thing for these two!! Losing someone close hits them way harder than most, to a point where it's actively harmful and discourages them from pursuing anything concrete (also doesn't help that their luck with partners is absolute *shite* and things rarely ever end on a decent/ non-tragic note).

Jigen got SO lucky with Lupin. They ooze trust for each other, and the same goes for Goemon, too. And for a guy like Jigen, having not one but TWO whole-ass people he can depend on is absolutely WILD to him. They're all he needs, really. Zenigata still hasn't found something that concrete yet (on HIS side of the law, at least), and given the nature of the series and his role within it, there's an incredibly low likelihood he ever will.

But at least Jigen knows that pain. He's been there! He can relate! He can console! And Zenigata KNOWS it's legit because he's read, like, *so* many files about this guy. He's Lupin's not-that-much-better half ffs. Zenigata knows Jigen's Been Through It and the fact that Jigen even TRIES to relate despite his rough-ass persona really gets through to him in a way that no one else can.

- All of that baggage would bleed into why they're hesitant to blatantly pursue Lupin. Even though they know that Lupin CAN and WILL reciprocate (enthusiastically, even), Jigen and Zenigata, deep down, also know that he'd never be able to give "all of himself" to them like they are willing to for him.

Jigen is dissatisfied (probably even jealous) of Lupin and Fujiko's goings-on even though he knows it's a *consensual* sort of give-and-take, and you CANNOT tell me that Zenigata isn't the slightest bit jealous of Lupin's tight-knit camaraderie with his crew. "I could treat you so much better", "I wish I could have that attention all to myself" sorta vibes. Don't even get me STARTED on how the excluded party would feel about JigLup/ LuZeni, yeesh.

- Lupin loves them profoundly, no doubts there, but Lupin also loves *everyone*. Which basically turns into if they can't have all of *him*, then at least they can have all of *each other*, y'know??

Even if their friendship (or something more) lasting is impossible, at least they can pretend for a little while.

At least SOMEONE gets it, and that someone also happens to look pretty damn handsome in a fedora, too.

Plus Zenigata is Jigen's type. End of discussion.

now that you're down here in the trenches with me we can hold hands and enjoy overanalyzing hat trick together <3 <3

I DO wanna hear other people's thoughts, though! I can't help but think I'm missing SOMETHING despite writing them for so long (and there's only a handful of people out there who know I have been *writing them*, hooh boy). Hopefully I'll be able to get some of that stuff out there one of these days, but MAN am I a slow writer. Fingers crossed.

[noisytenant]

i mean its like an infinitely rich wellspring if you know how to tap it. the nature of growing up in a world you're only just beginning to understand and the existential threats posed by new information, cultural notions of childhood, the types of childhood that get codified by Media Aimed At Children vs. the complicated and varied reality; the various mechanisms through which children are implicitly and explicitly forced into an oppressed position... there is much to consider if you decide you want to tell a story through Children's Media But Fucked Up. but i don't often see it happening.

i feel like the works that clear the "pure shock value" bar but still miss the mark for me tend to enter the territory of some kind of lamentation, where the unsettling and dark aspects of the work exist as a means of "confronting the difficult realities of life". it's sort of a feeling of, "i wish someone had prepared me for this," while also often lacking a good answer for why that never happened or how it might be possible to be prepared for these things. some works can ask questions without posing answers, but i feel like a lot of these works feel incomplete. i suppose if one wants to go this route i would be interested in a deeper exploration of the confusion and disappointment that is brought about by these things; not just letting your inner child speak up about their pain but actually dissecting (and maybe healing, who knows!) some of it

also there's a whole sidebar about whether the creator (in the real world) wishes to consider the intentions and experiences of the fictional creators of the fictional story. considering things like who operates the puppets, who writes the scripts... those can elevate a work i think. i havent been keeping up with Welcome Home due to it developing something of a cursed nature + me hating to do ARG business but it seems like the author considered these elements and that's something i appreciate.

i also think you can go on the flip side and fully commit to the work being "creatorless", in the way that as a child things magically come to you fully-formed without you really considering how it was made. that perceived contextlessness is inherently eerie and i think a lot of people tap into it without fully realizing.

there could even be something compelling about slowly realizing that there IS a creator, that there IS intent, that this isn't a little autonomous terrarium but in fact a planned and executed project. who knows! it's free ideas!

one other thought i have is that a lot of creators don't actually seem that invested in the reality of children's media and seem to rely mostly on their nostalgic recollections, which could be an interesting avenue if it weren't seemingly the dominant paradigm. i feel like the outcome is that there seems to be little to no attempt at replicating anything other than the most basic hallmarks of the "genre"; it's like the children's-media-facade is just window-dressing for the "fucked up" part. i think that's silly. taking a little more time to research (whether rewatching things you used to like or seeing what's new) can allow you to more strongly wield the specific and notable trappings of the genre. in that way, you can better integrate the horror with the more cute or comforting parts.

anyways, these are just completely disconnected rambles. i could talk forever but i have to go. bye bye for now

[gacha-incels]

Do you think that there is a possibility of Hypergryph splitting from Yostar for global publishing of Arknights and moving it to Gryphline instead? The traditional Chinese server got moved from Long Chen to Gryphline recently, and the new ambience synesthesia concert merch is on the Gryphline store rather than yostar’s. It may just be wishful thinking as yostar and hypergryph both own large shares of each other, but if there is a planned split from yostar would it potentially be a reason why Hypergryph hasn’t made a statement condemning Yostar Korea’s actions? Is there any precedent for publisher changes for a sort of legal clause preventing them from hurting each others’ image prior to the split being announced?

Gryphline is situated in Singapore, having what I guess you could call a “proxy” company for global business in Singapore is something a lot of companies in China have done for a while, increasingly within the past couple of years, for a multitude of reasons. Last time I checked Mihoyo had “Cognosphere” in Singapore, and when you buy gachabux in that game on servers outside China I believe your bill is from Cognosphere. The slave labor fast fashion site Shein has been operating under the Singapore-registered “Roadget Business” which some have speculated makes it easier to list in the USA. Yostar has HQ in Hong Kong which used to be the proxy location but according to this FT article-“Traditionally, Hong Kong was the choice for many such companies, said Kia Meng Loh, a senior partner at Dentons Rodyk. But with Beijing “flexing its muscles” in the semi-autonomous rival finance hub, Singapore is the obvious next choice, he said.” Hypergryph has multiple games coming out in the near future, I believe a regular (non-gacha) 3D anime mobile game and a 3D Arknights spinoff that will have a weapon gacha, and I think another game that’s TBD? They could be rearranging their internal structure due to this expansion if they’ve switched around their Chinese server already, but I’m unsure if this means they will completely split with Yostar who I believe publishes the US, Japanese and Korean servers.

Admittedly I can’t say I’m super well versed with this type of business and therefore it’s harder to really predict what they will do in the future, but I’ve been watching the situation since AK KR posted that notice to see what happens. I don’t have anything against the game itself, if it comes out that somehow their hands are completely tied in the situation or something I’ll post about that as well but I’m not holding my breath. In terms of my read on the situation, I think a huge message has ready been sent to the fans as to whom the company deems most profitable to listen to, regardless of any future handwringing over the situation. I would think between a woman posting extremely basic feminist thoughts on her personal twitter (equal pay etc) and enjoying the woman’s day google doodle years ago, and the Arknights KR/Yostar employee liking extremely violent fanart on the official twitter account and hanging out on extremist, misogynistic chat boards, that the employee would be seen as more of a problem and should have been the one disciplined. In reality, not only was the woman punished by having her work deleted but the official KR account posted that diatribe calling basic feminism a “dividing force” or whatever. This action and the following statement are absolutely not neutral, especially during a time a which violent misogyny has been increasingly ripping through South Korea as a whole but also gacha games specifically. In terms of PR I do think this is something Hypergryph could address, if HG doesn’t want to rock the boat with Yostar so to speak because of some upcoming split, it seems Yostar has already rocked the boat quite a bit with this action to begin with…

in terms of a main developer punishing the publisher, one example I can think of is Fate/Grand Order’s DelightWorks (after the sakura wars fuckup FGO is developed by “Lasengle” now, but when this happened it was DW) changing an in-game reward that FGO’s Korean publisher Netmarble gave out. In terms of them splitting as well, I’m still looking into it 👍 If anyone knows anything else feel free to reply or send me stuff and I’ll post it, sometimes I feel if I wait too long to reply to messages it comes across as rude lol so I’m not getting lost in like thesis tier research

[henryrodhamkissinger]

SOME ADORNO SHIT 😱😱😱

Happy Feodor Friday!

Theodor W. Adorno, praise be his name, quoted in Bürger 🍔, Theory of the Avant-Garde:

Adorno here saying that surrealism is artificial. No dip sure lock! Nah it’s like this. Adorno is a vehement evangelist for the avant garde in the arts; but for Adorno, the avant garde still has to express what is true: in fact, this is why Adorno advocates for the avant garde. For Adorno, the world is one of ‘objective unfreedom’ — more particularly, the crushing and fascistic sameness and fungibility of all things as they must bend to the iron law of exchange value. You might then think that Adorno would hold that only art works which somehow convey or portray that objective unfreedom are ‘true’ in his sense. Yes and no: for if that were only the case, then Adorno would have no problem with pictorial painting that portrays quotidian tyranny and subjugation, or, in music which was his specialty, any schmaltzy gothic or warlike triumphalist music would pass muster. No, for Adorno, somewhat paradoxically and perhaps simply nonsensically on his part, an autonomous art work is itself something of liberation.

An atonal serialist piece of music (Schoenberg, etc) or an expressionist painting (Kandinsky) or avant garde work of literature (Joyce) — these things, for Adorno, mark truth in the sense precisely that they subvert the world of exchange, that they refuse harmony and embrace dissonance and ‘laceration.’ Because what the ‘culture industry’ sells is escape, escape into a comforting and thought terminating sameness, the comfort of representation and repetition. That which is lacerated, dissonant, atonal etc reflects what is wholly ‘true’ in being itself as against being a facsimile of the world sold back to us. This is closely related to Adorno’s critique of Enlightenment modernity’s replacement of the qualitative with the quantitative. From the magisterial essay The Concept of Enlightenment (with M. Horkheimer):

Do you get it? I’ll translate, I’m used to this guy. The illusion of magic he refers to here is the socially inscribed primitive process of endowing some particular thing, like one single tree, with its own essence and quality, or mana. As this vanishes with enlightenment modernity, quantitative repetition reigns: a tree is only a specimen of the scientific object called ‘trees’ (yeah they’re just called trees dude, no Latin.) But note the highlighted section here: very importantly, he emphasizes how this notion of the ‘return of the same’ is already implicit in myth (or in totemic society.) Adorno doesn’t wish, then, to ‘return’ to the animism and ‘essentialism’ (in the sense of ‘an essence’) that came with primitive myth.

So the standard for truthful art can’t be that the work of art answer only to its own qualitative internal logic. Rather, it is ‘mediated,’ a fancy dialectics term that essentially means that the thing in question does not simply stand on its own unmolested by anything—it is always necessarily mediated by social conditions. I think the key to this puzzle is this: an art work cannot help but be mediated. Once a painting hangs in a gallery or a song plays at a concert, it is no longer answering only to itself, rather, it, as a work of art, is changed by the interaction it has with what is not-it, by what is outside of it and helping thereby to constitute it as such. The question then becomes, of course, by what is an art work mediated? By consumer society? So you can see perhaps now how it comes around: an art work which pushes towards subversive form and content, it is thereby far less likely to be effaced by the mediation of Capital or of ‘mass culture.’ Safeguarding against the latter is no easy task (take it from me, I am swamped in interview requests, book deals, and big music label contract offers!) That’s why Adorno is such a snobby bitch with the rigorous twelve-tone atonal music stuff and all that. It resists being…listenable…imagine if Gerwig pitched the Barbie movie where Barbie is an electrical wire hanging out of the dirt and all that happens is that an eyeless medieval police officer shouts “BARB!” into a megaphone. You know

So let’s get to the surrealism thing in brief, from the Peter Bürger 🍔 citation up top. There are radically different modes of surrealism that I believe pass muster varyingly with Adorno’s aesthetico-political concerns. And I’m gonna illustrate that with some pictures.

In my head canon I very reductively sometimes split early 20th century surrealist paintings into the Mexican and the European schools. Just as a shorthand. The two paintings below come from the former school, the first (left) by Max Ernst, who was a part of the Mexican ‘scene’ with his wife Leonora Carrington, Frida Kahlo, and the painter of the second of the ‘Mexican’ pieces here, Remedios Varo.

Now I love this shit, of course, but it’s easy to see why Adorno would not be as enthused about the radical potential in this (very broad) style (that I’m simplifying for brevity and effect.) Ernst portrays two giant beasts, a multiple-eyed chicken-like thing and a frighteningly shrouded Beast Witch; in Varo’s, a solemn sorceress mixes a potion that fuels the rotation of parchment upon which dead faced women servants write incantations, all in a tower looming atop a hilltop village that appears to be waning into the abyss. There’s obviously an element of fantasy, of imagined dream-magic and atavism that one might suspect would fall too easily into the ‘escapist’ sort of category for Adorno.

This next set, the ‘Europeans,’ is two paintings by the classic era surrealist Kay Sage, and the contemporary artist Claire Trotignon (one of my very favorite contemporary visual artists):

Kay Sage, drawing upon de Chirico before her, as well as her husband Yves Tanguy, paints these haunted, uncanny landscapes without determinate objects. The forms and contours of the modern, enlightened built world, stripped of their signification, stripped violently and denuded of their ostensible promise to be a site of human freedom. Trotignon’s pieces simultaneously erect and dismantle structures of ambiguity, emptiness and dissonance — similarly to Sage’s. They harrowingly and somewhat beautifully express Adorno’s “negative” dialectic — wherein, again, “a consciousness of denial” is at issue in the mediate artist-viewer co-constitution. They resist being iterations of something by resisting being something, apart from that lost or negated sense of rational sensibility that recedes into the abyss in capitalist modernity.