#mentions of canonical character deaths

[faggot-greg-house]

house and wilson + richard siken

[fishareglorious]

i do a light chuckle once i remember hofmann and semmelweis are friends but then i remember semmelweis and marcus' suitcase interaction where they talk about her and i am once again inconsolable about this old woman's death

[myimaginationplain]

do you ever think about how Ohkubo extremely casually dropped the fact that Spirit & Kami were teen parents & then proceeded to never expound upon that fact or bring it up ever again despite it explaining a whole lot about them & Maka

[coffeesleep-ooc]

Essay on heartbreak points

Just thinking of LBH pining over SQQ along the novel before he finally gets the man

Pre-abyss LBH wants SQQ, but the thing i see in him is not just wanting him, carnally sexually or otherwise, he wants SQQ’s attention and approval bc he admires him, its as simple as that. Og goods already had his admiration just bc he was a great cultivator, he was elegant and beautiful and worked hard af, it was like…if a polished stone like jade was used to hurt rather than be the soft, warm and flawless concept of beauty - that chinese media usually uses -. But then the cold showed a soft inner core! Yes! Our dear transmigrator took over and confused the hell out of t he poor LBH that still struggled to excuse SJ’s behavior. Then though, SY took care of him with love and with smiles, using mdoern sensibilities to measure things like care and affection…and I think that some of those discrepancies between a hellish setting and a soft oblivious SY must have been quite jarring to LBH. He sees someone that believes in inherent good and is passionate and silly, knowledgeable and kind, and can’t help but want to be close! He admires him so much!!

Still pre-abyss, not only LBH admires the heck out of SY, he is also his shizun, and i don’t forget about his teacher kink but im talking about the dynamics of it instead of anything sexual. LBH knows and firmly believes that his position is way below that of SQQ’s, he is protected and cared for, but he longs to protect and care for as well right? Because he has seen that SQQ is powerful but not above everything, because he is knowledgeable but not all-seeing, because he may be taken advantage of by someone crafty that doesn’t deserve his kindness. LBH pretends to fall and be weak and helpless when it’s convenient for him, but he knows he has to take every advantage he can bc he needs to be strong enough to protect SQQ, because the world has shown him that there are many dangers and that someone not of a peak lord’s status isn’t worth to marry (idk how much about this airplane would have put into his work, but lets remember that ancient chinese marriages were a very foemal and important thing that involved status and wealth, not just love). Let’s remember our bun has also been a street rat and probably saw many things at one point or another! We can only speculate and write fics about that last point, but the street is not a good place to be, especially in a PIDW setting. Also, bc he wasn’t strong enough, quick enough, bc his family had no power or money his mother died, it’s as hurtful and as plain as that for him, even if he knows (does he though?) that it’s not his fault.

Onwards to the abyss! It’s shit. That’s what it is. Shizun who he admires, respects and loves above everything, who told him that nobody was intolerable for the heavens went against every fucking shit he said and coldly forced LBH into the abyss. What the actual fuck SQQ (affectionate), you gave him so many issues fr. I can only imagine how confused the poor LBH must have felt when his Shizun yet again changed tune like this in a way he can’t fully explain this time, even more so, he could try, but it wouldn’t change the fact that LBH is currently in the worst place ever because the person he loves with his whole heart threw him there (and possibly wanted him to stay down there? to become one of its creatures? To die? He has no idea???). LBH has strived to be good, to be worthy in his teacher’s eyes since he entered the sect and he has just gotten proof that he isn’t and will never be even though he had the hope of getting there despite everything. It’s just filled with heartbreak and i think that the system only deducted SQQ’s current total points bc he literally had to die to be deducted any more and LBH can’t have him dead and the system knows that extremely well! It also gave SQQ a scenario push remember? And that was only for LBH’s benefit istg, SQQ had no idea.

and talking about death! Funny thing isn’t it? It’s ridiculous that SQQ dies so many times (srsly bro, wtf - again affectionate) but I believe that the first was the most traumatic for LBH. SQQ doesn’t sneer at him like a disgusting mucus but instead is afraid of him! LBH worked hard to just see SQQ again, to reunite the courage to talk to him and ask him if he regretted what he did, to show him he was a good person and that he had power now, that he could impress him and protect him (he has lost a lot of his own self-esteem base and i do believe that’s part of where heartbreak points come from) the person whom he values the opinion of the most -the only one even- thinks him a beast and an unredeemable demon…and when he tries to peove himself not that, the only thing SQQ does is run away from him, to decide to be silent and refuse even LBH’s (biased) kindness. He wouldn’t even take LBH’s robe! Imagine that you love someone and that someone hates your guts and refuses to even acknowledge that they hurt you, oh, and all this while an evil sword is fighting to take advantage of your negative feelings. Post-abyss is also shit, just a bit better bc LBH has the illusion of control, he thinks he can still control the situation and is slowly losing hope of shizun understanding him. But the illusion shatters when SQQ self-detonates to save him. The one he supposedly hates. LBH is probably just eternally confused in sv now that i think about it lmao *pats consolingly*

post death 1 (actually 2 for SY): LBH thought he knew shizun, then he realized he couldn’t explain everything shizun did. Then he tried to ask, not even for a full explanation, just to know if shizun really did hate him (bc LBH truly doesn’t care at that point what SQQ does or what SQQ’s reasons and actions were as long as he still loves him, smhw he is so…) and got instead a blow up in his face, coupled with other ppl’s accounts of SQQ mourning him like he was actually truly dead, missing him and finally he sees SQQ sacrificing himself for him. This surely must be enough fpr LBH right? Well…not really, SQQ could have been sacrificing himself to protect the ppl around him - LQG is there and we all know that LBH is mildly sus of him at this point, it will get worse later when LQG is the one coming by every fucking day to retrieve SQQ’s corpse so mhm…its possible LBH thought they had something (not necessarily romantic) at some point, or that LQG and the other ppl were important enough to sacrifice his life for. Not only that, but shizun was not rejoicing when he came back, he never said anything. He killed himself in everyone’s pov -but SQH’s-without explanation, in the most tragic and confusing way of all, saying he would repay LBH…lets also remember that repaying someone can mean completely cutting ties and leaving with a clean slate. And the only actual thing he did was show LBH he didn’t have actual control over the situation and that it was possible to be completely powerful and still lose the ones you love and care about. Idk (or don’t remember haha…) the moment LBH started building the bamboo house in the demonic realm, but it says a lot about what he wants and what he dreams about, the most probable things he is feeling at this point is desperation and melancholy, nostalgia. He longs for the days where he was secure in the knowledge of Shizun’s affection for him, no matter what kind of affection it was, but at the same time is bittersweet because he knows that shizun will never love him foe who he is and that drives him mad with heartbreak that is just building up over time. He will also feel incredibly guilty over SQQ repaying him with his life, because all he ever wanted was basic communication but Shen ‘i am so emotionally repressed i can’t even tell what I’m actually feeling’ Qingqiu obviously thought he was being hunted for revenge. So rip LBH, he wanted an explanation or just a simple ‘i regret it’ but what he gets is confusion, a corpse he has to reanimate asap, and incredible guilt + more damage to his self esteem

Then SQQ comes back and doesn’t even try to search fpr him? And everything becomes a huge mess quite quickly. But. Luo Binghe watches his shizun go back to his martial family and interact with them in a way that he doesn’t interact with LBH anymore. LBH gets his face rubbed with the fact that what he strongly wishes for (going back) is impossible because he made the mistake of being born. Which, would demoralize the strongest of us honestly. And uta been so long since i read sv that I don’t remember much, but im sure that LBH can’t even think that SQQ does care for him, the trauma and insecurity, the abandonment issues have grown so big that they are like a bull in a china shop, ready to shatter everything in short range. Its only when SQQ gives his life (LBH does not know this but he is aware that SQQ would not have used papapa to save the world with just everyone) and gives him something he kept for so long - and that LBH himself thinks is precious despite being worthless - that he understands a bit that shozun may not hate him so much. I’m surprised that heartbreak points weren’t so used or that we didn’t get reminded of them through the story, because it would have given us an inkling of how LBH was feeling, but also spoilers and SQQ’s obliviousness, i imagine that at the end of sv they would have been lower than what they were (in truth) at the IAC but not completely gone

finally, i think that heartbreak points could be used to gauge how traumatized poor LBH was at eaxh point in time, but also to measure the state of his self esteem and the level of hope he had according to the way SQQ acted along the novel. I think that the points were all gone at some point (i eont remember anymore -cries- ) but i fullly believe that post canon Binghe still has heartbreak points and a whole lot of issuws that start to slowly disappear as thwir relationahip progresses. The only thing is that LBH still ties his own worth to SQQ’s opinion of him, and he will have heartbreak points again if he misunderstands SQQ st any point (unlikely but still).

Anyways…

THIS POOR BABY BREAKS MY HEART! He was terrible but he was also very human and truly, he deserves good.

Sorry about the rambling essay! :D

[quitealotofsodapop]

more Soft Boiled!

[the little red ribbon in her hair!!! And she has her own version of Macaque's scarf!!]

the red ribbon was meant to be phoenix feathers like Wukong's cap, and I like ti think her scarf may actually be a piece of Macaque's original scarf. the one he wears pre-death is different from his scarf post-resurrection, so maybe after he died Wukong wanted to keep a momento for himself/his unborn daughter. Macaque comes back to life and assumed the scarf, which was a gift from Wukong in the first place, had been rescinded as a show of them no longer being together. that is, until he recognizes the fabric hanging from the shoulders of a familiar black-furred child that just broke his nose mid shadow play.

[Wukong about to get a talking to the second his adoptive family gets a hold of him. Once the monkey recovers from the early labour, and has emotionally recovered from the rollercoaster that was Yuebei's birth ofc.]

I can imagine PIF helping as a sort of midwife through the whole thing, and being very supportive and giving a lot of great advice, having gone through a similarly rough pregnancy not overly long ago herself (I also like to think Red Son, due to the fire causing the pregnancy and birth complication, was also a premmie). aaanndd then the moment Wukong is ok again after Yuebei is confirmed ok she's turning into the most foul-mouthed, harshest, rage filled person in the room. the others don't bother scolding Wukong much, taking softer tones in despite their concern and annoyance, partly because she said it all first, and partly because they feel bad about how utterly devastating her rant was.

[It would be so cute if Yuebei first started crying over something completely normal - for some reason, I'm thinking it's something like Zhu Bajie trying to pull a funny face for her. Wukong is so relieved to hear his baby crying that he doesn't even scold his pilgrim brother for scaring her!]

she's awake, but barely, and still so, so quiet. then, admist the other pilgrims quiet fussing over her, Zhu Bajie tries to lighten the mood by making a face. she starts wailing. Wukong, who was just about ready to go out like a light, instantly is next to the crib, picking her up and both trying to comfort her and himself as he cries in joy and relief. the others have a similar joyous reaction, except for Bajie, who is very wounded by the thought of being ugly enough to make a baby cry.

[Wukong would be so protective of his little Moon Comet Star. She was so sickly and weak as a baby, that he worries about ever letting her leave places he knows to be safe.]

maybe another lasting affect of her brief encounter with the fire is sever asthma. not great for a premature newborn. I imagine it would be something that sticks with you if your baby is constantly wheezing, coughing, unable to really make sounds, struggling to eat, struggling to breath, and maybe even stops breathing entirely entirely at times. And with almost nothing you can do, as back when she was born their wouldn't really have been much treatment or medicine for things like asthma. the constant worry of Yuebei suddenly not being able to breath probably means she never really got to go places, especially without her Baba. heaven forbid is she also has any seasonal allergies. not to say Wukong was a total helicopter parent, but he definitely worried.

Wukong is aware enough to understand that this is not a normal, or ideal childhood, so now that she's a bit bigger and stronger he's really trying to not lose his mind with anxiety every time MK takes her somewhere new off island without him. he even tries to encourage her to go out, so even if he has worries and a few different concerns when MK mentions the noodle shop all got tickets plus an extra one for the his daughter to a shadow play he tries not to stifle anyone's fun.

[That and I can imagine Wukong took her to stay with Guanyin on her unaging island for a while to help her health improve.] + [I bet even with Guanyin, "Cousin" Nezha, and the very rare corespondance with PIF and Red Son, Yuebei spends a lot of her childhood lonely]

as mentioned above, with her having been so sick she def would have spent a lot of time at Guanyin's. she's a renowned healer, and Guanyin is someone he trusts dearly to boot, so going to the goddess is a win-win in his eyes.

and yeah. between not being allowed to go out to new places much due to being a sickly child, and Wukong's reputation and not having anyone to connect with other then busy celestials, there's not much chance to go exploring. the monkeys are fun, but they and her baba treat her very delicately even when playing. her baba is awesome in her eyes, and its one thing for your parent to be someone you can call a best friend, but its a little different when your parent is your only friend. its why, despite not liking him much, she jumps at MK's offer to take her off island and into the city without her baba sometimes.

I feel like she'd make fast friends with Bai He once the LBD fiasco is over.

[Yuebei is gonna have a time when she starts understanding whats really going on with the Noodle Gang, and why her family "suddenly" can't remember her. Wukong blames himself for not explaining it better to her earlier, but hadn't wanted to dump so much loss on his babygirl all at once - it was a lose-lose situation.]

Yuebei learning and coming to understand what's happened probably ends up being the b-plot of an episode. maybe "Amnesia Rules", instead of Wukong getting his memories back by getting hit over the head, it happens because he realizes through Yuebei having an emotional breakdown over the others, and now her own father, having forgetton her and he realizes that she's describing them having reincarnated and he's like "ah! that's what happened." and explains more indepth what that means to her. the others hear of her feeling about "them forgtting her" for the first time during this, and can't help but feel bad and try and help Wukong explain. she probably clings to her baba for a long time after, and stops being as cld to the others. maybe even kinda apologizes to MK for thinking he stole them from her.

maybe. not sure how well the idea works.

[Yuebei doesn't like Macaque, but she doesn't completely abhor the idea of him and her baba becoming close again. She just doesn't want either of them to get hurt again.]

she doesn't protest her presence much, as her baba seems... hopeful (though still a little sad sometimes) when he's around, and she also doesn't hate the idea of having her second baba around. but she also doesn't let him off scott free, glaring over Wukong's shoulder at him when macaque gets to close to soon, clinging to Wukong when he tries to talk to her, not talking much around him even if he addresses her directly, and generally not being very receptive. she probably at some point goes through a "rebelious phase" where she does things to test if he'll "really stick around even if she's troublesome". as far as she knows, he didn't even want her in the first place, or at least didn't care that Wukong was having her, so to her it seems like a reasonable thing to question.

[Azure Lion about to get decked in the face the second he comes around. When did the monkeys multiply? Why is he on fire?]

what can Yuebei say? she's fiercely protective and not happy about someone trying to take away her baba again.

[Wukong is just watching Yuebei tear into their enemies like; "I love my strong little girl." <3]

probably been said before, but no matter the universe; Wukong is a proud dad to all his kids at all times

Prev.

[Macaque comes back to life and assumed the scarf, which was a gift from Wukong in the first place, had been rescinded as a show of them no longer being together. that is, until he recognizes the fabric hanging from the shoulders of a familiar black-furred child that just broke his nose mid shadow play.]

I'm sorry but that is the cutest/saddest gotdamn thing ever. Wukong was so distraught at losing Macaque that he couldn't bare to leave behind his most cherished possession. So he took the scarf. Wrapped it around himself when he felt cold. Maybe even used it to swaddle his new baby girl. Yuebei dragging it around the cave as her security blanket. It being carefully washed and repaired so many times that it's barely red any more.

In the end, Wukong wanted Macaque to be there with him through all of This.

And once the reality sets in, Macaque is sobbing at the sight of Yuebei wearing her beloved scarf as he once did.

And I just love that my reoccurring theme with Macaque in the Egg aus is;

[aaanndd then the moment Wukong is ok again after Yuebei is confirmed ok she's turning into the most foul-mouthed, harshest, rage filled person in the room.]

PIF is terrifying when she's genuinely angry/worried - and once Wukong and Yuebei are safe/healthy post-natal, she starts yelling.

Wukong now finally understands what Macaque meant when he said his "ears are burning". Once the woman calms down, she wraps Wukong into a near-crushing hug, thanking and begging him to never ever do something so stupid again. Even if it saved her baby, Wukong nearly lost his. And PIF would never forgive herself if little Yuebei had been lost to the fire.

Yuebei gets a tearful kiss on the forehead from her auntie before PIF leaves the room, content with the words spoken.

Wukong makes sure to hug DBK when he sees him next, knowing that the Bull feels the same as his wife over the matter.

[the others have a similar joyous reaction, except for Bajie, who is very wounded by the thought of being ugly enough to make a baby cry.]

HAHA! XD Bajie would take it as an insult - but at least his little bro is happy to hear the baby make noise. A loud piglet is a healthy piglet. And little Yuebei was a real quiet piglet for a long time... at least she stops being afraid of ol' Uncle Bajie when she gets a little bigger.

I immediately thought of a scene from Hero is Back where Bajie is trying to calm down the baby Silly Girl by pulling a face, only for the baby to start screaming at him.

[maybe another lasting affect of her brief encounter with the fire is sever asthma. not great for a premature newborn.] + [heaven forbid is she also has any seasonal allergies. not to say Wukong was a total helicopter parent, but he definitely worried.] + [and yeah. between not being allowed to go out to new places much due to being a sickly child, and Wukong's reputation and not having anyone to connect with other then busy celestials, there's not much chance to go exploring.]

Oof. This hit me as an asthmatic preemie myself. Cus so much of my health was compromised as a little kid, I wasn't very active or adventurous - something thats easy to regret as an adult.

Wukong is so scared of how fragile his cub is. He's immortal, he's indestructable - but that means nothing to him if he can't protect his baby. He knows that mint and licorice, and anti-muscosal formulas help people with poor lungs, but the science back then wasn't 100% sure, and he sure as Diyu wasn't letting his daughter smoke datura cigarettes like the western doctors reccomended! At least the Eqyptians had Kyphi - an incense mixture (multiple formulas) that was frequently repurposed into asthma treatments.

All he can really do is to have a fully-stocked pharmacy inside Water-Curtain Cave, and make sure Yuebei stays away from pollen-rich flowers.

Wukong cries with relief in the early 20th century when Ventolin, Antihistamines, and Epinephrine become common knowledge.

Bonus: Interesting article I found on asthma treatment in Traditional Chinese medicine.

[as mentioned above, with her having been so sick she def would have spent a lot of time at Guanyin's. she's a renowned healer, and Guanyin is someone he trusts dearly to boot, so going to the goddess is a win-win in his eyes.]

Yuebei probably sees Guanyin as an aunt/grandparent figure. Hard not to when the bodhisattva is so doting over the tiny girl. Yuebei finds a lot of her lessons and treatments boring, but at least for a long time she had Red to hang out with.

Guanyin knows Wukong wouldn't trust Yuebei's care with them lightly. Even if Guanyin was present to bless Yuebei's arrival, the Monkey King is hesistant to let anyone tend to his little girl for a long time. The goddess is honoured to be so trusted.

[she jumps at MK's offer to take her off island and into the city without her baba sometimes.]

It's the thing that allows her to open up to MK a little more, even with her burning jealousy of how he's spending so much time with her baba + the Noodle Gang family + him getting to have a "normal" life pretending to be a healthy human cub.

She likes arcades but they get very loud for her at times. MK is quick to notice when the "Monkey Princess" (as he calls her) gets overstimulated, and suggests that they check out a quieter activity.

Like a play.

[I feel like she'd make fast friends with Bai He once the LBD fiasco is over.]

Little girl gang! And if Bai He is a foster kid/orphan like I hc, then Yuebei has zero issue letting another sickly little girl into her family. She's very sympathetic and understanding of Bai He's physical limits ever since she hosted LBD - the human girl now aching constantly from her body being forced to move like a puppet. The two jokingly compare how one briefly hosted Fire while the other Ice. Bai He could be considered the more feminine of the two, but they both bond over shared interest in animal science - Yuebei still loves her dinosaurs while Bai He is still a die-hard cat fan. And ofc the inherent chaos that two fearless little girls can get up to when they wander off from their babas' watchful gaze.

[the others hear of her feeling about "them forgtting her" for the first time during this, and can't help but feel bad and try and help Wukong explain. she probably clings to her baba for a long time after, and stops being as cld to the others. maybe even kinda apologizes to MK for thinking he stole them from her. maybe. not sure how well the idea works.]

Ultimately, even if Yuebei understood how death/reincarnation worked, she would still feel "forgotten" as (nearly) every soul that passes through Diyu is made to drink Meng Po's broth and forget their past lives. The little girl still feels abandoned in some way by her Pilgrim uncles "leaving" her and her baba. It's bad enough that Uncle Bull had to go away for a long time, but to lose her uncles, only to see them again in new forms that don't recognize her, devastates Yuebei in a way thats hard for her to articulate.

And for her own parent to be afflicted in a way that makes him unable to remember her? Oh you better believe Yuebei is a complete mess.

When Wukong briefly loses his memory in "Amnesia Rules"; he initially panics, wondering why he can't "feel the Egg" any more - only to look over at Yuebei and have a moment of fractured memory thinking that she must be a projection from the future, or an Egg Macaque made on his own without him.

This assumption continues unaddressed until the gang manages to get Tang back, and befriend Scorpion Queen. As they're about to get Wukong to go back into astral meditation to "reboot" himself, the ginger monkey turns to ask Yuebei something thats been plaguing him all day.

Amnesiac!Wukong: "Are you my Egg?" Yuebei, sadly: "I was..." Amnesiac!Wukong: "Aww. Come here, cub." (*Wukong pulls Yuebei in for a hug*) Amnesiac!Wukong: "If you really are my little Egg many years from now, I'm happy that she grows into a strong, fearless little lady. I'm proud to be your Baba." Yuebei: (*cries into Wukong's shoulder*) "I love you baba..." Amnesiac!Wukong, crying too: "I'm so happy to be able to hear that. I was so scared when you tried absorbing the Samadhi Fire... I thought I lost you. But you're a tough little girl aren't you? You spat that fire right out like it was sour!" Yuebei, aware of her birth circumstances: "Yeah. You tell me that story all the time." Pigsy and Tang, not aware: "What?"

Pigsy and Tang are so emotional over the amnesiac!father-daughter bonding, that they are completely off-guard when the older monkey rattles off some details about the Samadhi Fire that he neglected to let the others in on.

[she probably at some point goes through a "rebelious phase" where she does things to test if he'll "really stick around even if she's troublesome". as far as she knows, he didn't even want her in the first place, or at least didn't care that Wukong was having her, so to her it seems like a reasonable thing to question.]

Ooof!! I love the idea of Yuebei antagonising Macaque "just to be sure" that he's serious about staying around. Macaque honestly tries his best to be patient, but after a while he starts to get super annoyed with the girl's attitude.

Then one stray prank or comment rolls into a genuine verbal confrontation.

Macaque: "What is it about me that offends you so much!? I get it - my and your dad had a few fights and I sorta almost destroyed the world trying to escape the Bone Demon - but I'm trying my best here! I wouldn't have broken your dad out of his possession if I didn't think he was worth sticking around for!" Yuebei, emotional: "How am I supposed to believe that when you left us twice!?" Macaque, realizing: "Twice? What do you mean by- OH." Yuebei: (*trying not to cry*) Macaque: "You... you thought I knew? Kid, I only learned you even existed as a concept when Jin and Yin busted my lip open first thing after New Years." Yuebei: "You have your special ears! You should have known I was there when you-" (*stops talking, buries head into knees*) Macaque, extremely guilty: "I should have. I really should have. But I chose not to listen. I was just so... angry at that monk, at the circlet, even at your baba, I..." *sighs* "Maybe if I had stopped to listen, I would have known you were there. That Wukong had someone he would kill me for. I don't blame him for that." Yuebei, lifts head from knees: "You don't?" Macaque: "Nah. You're a lot cooler than I am. You took the Samadhi Fire head in before you were even born. And when you saw the Bone Demon, you didn't run and hide like I did - you and MK took that witch out. And did I see a certain little warrior take her first war trophy before we left?" Yuebei, avoiding eye contact: "She isn't using it..." Macaque: "To be fair it wasn't getting much use with her anyway. If she had a brain in that skull, she'd know Wukong picks a good troop. I just wished I had known that a few centuries ago..." Yuebei & Macaque share an awkward silence Macaque: "I wanna stick around kiddo. I missed out on a lot when I left. Both times really... But I want to stay. Flower Fruit Mountain is my home too, and I hope someday it could be a home me and your baba can share together again. Even if you don't believe me." Yuebei: (*affectionate elbow jab into Mac's rib*) Macaque, chuckling: "Well, that's progress from the nose busting." Yuebei: (*trying not to laugh*)

Bonus: Wukong hears some of this convo, or it's parroted to him by one of the (sneaked-out of Diyu with Mac) Eclipse twins. You know this monkey crying over his former mate and his baby girl finally starting to get along!

[what can Yuebei say? she's fiercely protective and not happy about someone trying to take away her baba again.]

The only reason Azure gets as far as he does with the Memory Scroll is that Yuebei is either A: Not on FFM at the time, or B: Got Memory Scroll'd in the confusion.

Otherwise, she starts kicking and punching Azure the second she clocks who he is. MK and Mei are gonna have to drag her off of him.

The Jade Emperor and Xiwangmu see this tiny monkey, burning with rightous anger and protectiveness, and just know who's cub she is. The Emperor does however, look over to his wife very briefly to ask if the little girl dragging Azure Lion by the scruff of the neck to Diyu is a lost grandchild of theirs.

[probably been said before, but no matter the universe; Wukong is a proud dad to all his kids at all times]

Wukong loves his kids so gotdang much. Canon or au - him a proud dad.

This got a little away from me - I hope you liked my reply!

[frozenparadize]

Bungo Stray Dogs: Dead Apple (2018)

[the-red-thread-that-strangles]

Rei is late for the first time since he's started working at Poirot.

Neither terrorism attacks nor hostage crises have affected his being on time. Not even a runaway horse managed to keep him.

But he spends one night with Akai Shuichi, and his perfect record is ruined. Asshole.

Despite his calling ahead, Azusa gives him a worried look. He stops briefly to give her a mock-embarrassed apology, turning up the charm. Promises he won't be late again. Then he's off to the storage room.

He needs to fetch his ingredients and get to baking.

Rei's going to find Akai and strangle him, just as soon as his shift is over.

.

Roughly 12 hours earlier.

There's a gun aimed right between his eyes.

That in itself is nothing unusual. The situation could be worse, really.

After all, his own gun is pointed right back at Akai Shuuichi's annoyingly smug face. At this distance, he'll be able to read his movement, react in time. He'd rather talk, but if the sniper fires, Rei will drag him into hell too.

Blood for blood. Mutually assured destruction.

(His excitement is slightly dampened by the fact he's rather certain Akai won't kill him.)

"Caught you." Rei can't help the satisfaction slipping into his voice.

Finally. After three years, their game of cat and mouse is over. He'll have his answers.

The most pressing of which-

"Where's Scotch?"

The words cut into the silence, sharpened by fear. His best friend might still be dead, after all. (If he isn't, why hasn't he contacted Rei?)

It's not like he has much to go on to suspect he's alive, besides the fact that Akai himself came back from the dead. Rei can only hope he brought Hiro along.

Before Akai answers, there's a click. The world becomes dizzyingly bright, expanding past the muzzles of their guns.

Rei blinks the disorientation away. Spots silhouettes from the corner of his eyes. He hasn't met them before, but he's familiar, of course, with the owners of this house. How long have the Kudos been watching them?

While he's busy processing that revelation, Akai holsters his gun. Part of Rei hates how nonchalant Akai is about all of this, exposing himself so easily. Like Rei isn't a threat, won't put a bullet in his head because of a couple of witnesses. (Hates that he's probably right.)

"I propose a trade. For old time's sake."

(The words leave a bitter taste with Rei. They haven't exchanged anything, not goods, not words, not warmth, in years.)

Akai snaps open a cheap flip phone - likely a burner. His thumb hovers over the call button. The fingers of his other hand, long and dextrous, wrap around the barrel of Rei's P7M8, tugging gently, but insistently.

Rei considers his options. He holds no illusions - without his gun, he won't be able to dispatch Akai. But he's more than capable of holding his own for long enough to escape, if need be.

(He could just fire, right now. It wouldn't have to be lethal. Could take the phone by force. But chances are, whatever information Akai has, he'll be much less willing to share it with a bullet wound.)

Rei looks up at Akai, meets his green, green eyes. The part of him that shows genuine emotions, some days. (Not that Rei is one to talk.)

Finds Akai looking...tired. He wears a small smile, but it's worn around the edges. There's no open mockery, no quiet amusement. It's just the two of them, and an offer.

Rei lets go of the gun. He hopes he won't be needing it, tonight.

.

Akai helps him up, his hand warm and steady. As soon as he's upright, Rei lets go - he can walk perfectly fine by himself, thank you very much.

The FBI agent shows him to the living room, tells Rei to make himself a home. After all, the Kudos have promised to give him some privacy, for his chat.

For a moment, the sniper lingers, gaze caught by the phone. Then Akai casts his eyes down, and leaves Rei alone.

Silence, if not for the crackle of the damned fireplace, fills the room. Rei hesitates for a moment. Then he presses 'call' for the only number in the directory.

The phone crackles with static, beeps as it establishes connection, then-

"Hi, Zero."

The world stops moving. Relief floods his system, sapping the tension from his muscles. He leans against the soft backrest, breathing freely for the first time in a good long while.

.

Their talk is short. Rei asks some questions to establish it's truly Hiro, not an imposter (though that would make a very poor basis for the negotiation the Kudos have planned).

Hiro tersely explains some things, although he isn't allowed to give away much. He's in the FBI's witness protection program. That they're talking at all is a massive bending of the rules, authorized only because of Akai's insistence. He claimed it was of critical importance to their mission.

It certainly is, to Rei.

.

The next hours are a blur.

The sofa dips when Akai sits down at his side, the Kudos already having taken their seats on the other side of the small coffee table. (He wishes Akai would sit farther away. That he be less reasonable in his assumptions and demeanour.)

It's somewhat surreal to think that celebrity actress Kudo Yukiko of all people gives him a steaming cup of chamomile lavender honey tea. Good thing working with Vermouth has knocked most of the starstruck behaviour out of him; his younger self would have made a fool of himself.

He can't afford that. After all, they are seeking him out in an official capacity, requesting PSB senior agent Furuya Rei's cooperation.

It certainly is strange for them to reach out through him, considering his known enmity of Akai. But he's a professional - he might be reluctant to work with the man, but it's not his decision to make. He'll relay the offer, unless it's utter garbage.

So he pays attention while they share what they can of their plan to take down the organisation. Listens to their pledge for equal contribution, and their promise of crediting the PSB with a successful operation; an obvious play intended to soothe the wounded pride of the Japanese, after years of illegal activity. But it's the least they can do.

If one were to ask Rei, the offer is certainly worth considering. The PSB has been working the case for five years now, and while they have gathered intel, and managed to place Bourbon as a vital asset, they're barely closer to shutting the organization down than when they started. It's sprawling, interconnected with various businesses, and, worst of all, active internationally. If they don't cut off all its heads at the same time, odds are the members will simply flee to a different branch. Maybe lie low for a bit, and then go about their business with renewed vigour.

It seems like an international cooperation might just be necessary to achieve this task. So he'll be their messenger; it's above his pay grade to decide whether to take them up on the offer or not.

Though privately, he hopes his superiors agree; every day they lose ground to the organization. By this point, Rei doesn't really care anymore whose plan it is that finally does the organization in, as long as it gets done. (And as long as he and the PSB are finally treated with the appropriate amount of respect.)

Still, he can't help thinking they wouldn't be having this conversation now, if these foreign agencies had respected the official channels ahead of time. Maybe Hiro could be hiding in Nagano then, with his brother, instead of being confined to the other half of the globe. In the US, of all the terrible places to be. He shivers.

.

By the time they're done it's very late. Rei is already half-dozing off, despite his best efforts to stay awake. It would be highly irresponsible to drive in this state, so he's asked their hosts for a coffee (he's sure a place housing Akai will have more than enough of it to go around). He'll just rest his eyes for a moment, until they're back.

.

Something light is being dropped on him, almost stirs him to consciousness. But it's warm, soft, and smells of huddling together in an abandoned apartment.

(Of long-forgotten small comforts.)

Not a threat.

Thus satisfied, his body collects its due, and he's dragged back under, into deep, dreamless sleep.

.

Which brings Rei to the reason he's late.

Someone, and he has a very good idea of who it was, put his phone in airplane mode, drew all the curtains shut, and kept the rest of the house quiet.

(Let him sleep for as long as he needed to.)

So Rei wakes up with a start, in a barely familiar place, the digital clock on the wall indicating it's way past opening time for Poirot. Shit.

He grabs his belongings, pistol, clothes and keys and all, and dashes out the door. He swears he can see Okiya - no, Akai, he was right, damn it - look down on him from that favourite window of his. Asshole. Contrary to him Rei has a job, a cover to maintain. He'll get back at him, yet.

.

It should probably worry him that he can perform the drive to Poirot on autopilot. Too many late-night stakeouts turning into impromptu naps, requiring him to drive straight to work after. So much trouble, over nothing. If Akai had just cooperated sooner-

Then, what? Rei hadn't managed to track him down before his supposed death, and the less interaction there is between Okiya Subaru and Amuro Tooru, the better for both of them. He grinds his teeth, barely manages to brake in time for a redlight.

(Hates that he understands the caution, to a degree.)

.

The universe really is conspiring against him, today.

After the lunchtime rush, a certain pocket-sized detective is ushered in through the door, followed by his guardian and her best friend. The kid gives him odd looks all throughout ordering lunch, too sharp in a way that makes the hairs at the back of his neck stand in up. Rei gives him his sunniest smile, and an extra packet of sugar. He's played games with Gin and Vermouth in worse conditions; he won't yield to a particularly precocious six-year-old.

Despite getting more sleep than the last three nights combined, he's not feeling too well. A single good night's rest can't undo weeks of insomnia. If anything, it only makes apparent what he's lacking.

He finds his mind wandering, glad the preparation of food comes automatically, by now. Whisk and mix and pour. Fry, remove from the pan...

"...uro? You seem unwell."

Too-familiar green eyes stare back at him, bags under the eyes and all. Rei barely manages not to flinch.

Of all the people to catch him spacing out, it just has to be Akai's little sister. The gods must truly hate him.

"Ah, miss Sera. I apologize, I was just pondering some new options for our menu." He winks, gives her his most dazzling smile. "The chamomile lavender honey tea cake has me under its spell."

In response, she just wrinkles her nose, unimpressed. Squints at him with those jade eyes that always see through him too easily.

"Are you sure you're not running a fever? It seems a little warm in here already, yet you're working in a sweater."

Rei blinks at that. The temperature seems fine to him. Azusa hasn't said anything about it either.

"I appreciate the concern, but I assure you, I'm perfectly fine. Now, what can I get you?"

One slice of red velvet cake (of course - why did they even keep that on the menu?) and a macchiato later he's rid of her.

For now, at least - she's joined her friends at the window seats, and judging by the way she keeps sneaking glances at him when she thinks he isn't looking, he hasn't seen the last of her yet.

Still, her questions are odd. Surely he doesn't look that terrible?

(Vermouth has taught him some of her secrets; he's been concealing the shadows under his eyes for a while now. Nobody's ever found him out. Why is it now that people notice?)

.

He continues to work mindlessly, unfocused. This damn shift just doesn't seem to want to end.

He just about manages to avoid knocking Ran out for leaning over the counter, into his space. She remains blissfully unaware of the danger she just escaped, smiling brightly, kindly.

"Excuse me, I have a question."

Rei closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, counts to four. Smiles at the girl. "Go ahead", he says, continuing to whisk some cake batter.

Ran leans in closer, conspiratorially.

"Masumi is too shy to ask" - that's a bold-faced lie, if he's ever heard one, and he's something of an expert on the matter - "but she'd love to know where you got that sweater."

Now, Ran's a lovely young lady, always eager to help. It's a pity she's being manipulated for Sera's gain. Because there has to be more to the question, even if Rei can't see it yet.

Of course, he can't tell the girls the truth - Kazami bought it for Bourbon's cover. But the best lies are closest to the truth, so-

"I apologize, but I do not know where it was bought. A friend gave it to me." His best calculated-apologetic smile smoothes the blow, hopefully.

"Oh. I see." Ran visibly deflates. Still, her good manners prevail. "Thank you, though!" And with that, she's heading back to her table.

Strange. What could Sera possibly want with his sweater? If she wanted to track him down, surely there's more efficient ways, and it's not like he doesn't have a dozen similar cream sweaters-

Wait. Cream?

Rei's pretty sure he dressed in black to infiltrate the Kudo manor. He's not been home and he hasn't changed for work.

He manages to supress a groan, but he's sure there's some unpleasant emotion visible on his face.

...he must have grabbed the sweater along with the rest of his belongings in the morning rush.

Now that he's looking at it, it's clearly a little too large for him. It's also warm, fuzzy, soft, and utterly unoffensive. That's probably why it didn't register, before.

The sweater does smell decidedly of Akai - cigarettes and a hint of his obnoxious aftershave. The warm scent of curry is new - though unsurprising, given his foray into cooking. Great. That's why they've been staring at him. Sera likely recognizes the sweater and Conan spends enough time with Akai to know the scent.

His gut instinct is to go change, right now, get rid of the damning piece of connection to the man he has too many conflicting emotions about. But a long-sleeved black turtleneck is hardly appropriate work attire for Poirot. Besides, if he changes now, the pair of detectives watching him will just have their suspicions confirmed.

So he grits his teeth, takes in a deep breath that smells too much like Akai, and gets back to work.

.

Rei does change out of the sweater as soon as he's done with his shift.

(It doesn't help. The scent lingers.)

.

He's tempted to just toss the sweater, but can't help feeling like it would be a waste. It's quality craftsmanship, well-worn but taken care of - this kind of sweater would pill, otherwise.

It really shouldn't be faulted for its owner's flaws.

So he puts the sweater in a bag, intending to have it dry-cleaned and give it back later.

He should really hunt down Akai, too, but if he's honest, he's just too tired. He probably shouldn't even drive, in his condition, but he needs to get to a safe place, to think about the developments of the night.

.

He reports to Kuroda, showers thoroughly, and falls into bed.

.

Rei can't have slept long. The sunset colours the world in blood red hues by the time he wakes up, out of breath, heartbeat too fast.

Visions of smoke and ash cling to him. Explosions, destroying him one by one, until nothing remains but death alone.

Hagiwara and Matsuda, taken by violent flame.

Hiro's remains, crushed and burnt beyond recognition.

Akai's smile, grimly defiant, as he's shot by Kir. He too finds his end in a blaze, lacking glory.

They're gone.

Consumed by the inferno that seems to follow Rei around. Which burns everything he cares about, leaves him freezing in its wake.

(He can't even cry, his tears evaporating in the heat.)

Rei shivers, draws the blankets closer. Hopes for a little bit of cover, a little bit of warmth.

Please. If he could just shake off the nausea. If he could stop his spiralling thoughts. Logically, he knows that's not all true, even if his heart burns. Akai and Hiro aren't dead.

It's a lie, they're alive, it's a lie, they're alive, it's a lie a lie a lie a lie-

A set of sharp barks rips him out of his thoughts, back into the present.

Oh. He's woken Haro.

The little guy stands in front of his bed, ears tucked back and hackles raised. A defiant ball of fluff that cares so much, trying to growl the nightmares away.

(It might just work.)

Slowly, shaking and somewhat off-balance, he reaches down to scoop up his dog. Wiggles the blanket off his shoulders so he may cradle the whining bundle of fur to his chest. It's soothing, to feel the warmth of another living being by his side. They sit, the silence permeated by Haro's huffed breaths. His body heat seeps into Rei's chest, nestles in his heart.

"I apologize for worrying you. I'll be fine, soon."

He's not alone.

Haro nudges his hand, demands to be pet. Rei obliges, of course he does.

He's not alone.

.

Still, the headache is a pain. He won't be able to go back to sleep like this, will need to grab a painkiller.

He makes his way to the kitchen counter, keeping to the walls because he's still somewhat unsteady, carrying his bundle of warmth along.

The dog throws a fit as they pass the bag with Akai's sweater, growling and yapping at it. Despite the circumstances, Rei can't help but smile.

"I'm glad to see we feel the same way about him."

Wait.

Inspiration strikes in the form of a very stupid idea.

Because that sweater, with its stupid mixed scents, reeking of Akai, is proof he didn't just imagine last night's events. Tangible and olfactory and physical proof. If he were to wake from a nightmare, with it by his side...the anger at Akai would surely keep the pain at bay.

It's worth a try.

.

As he goes back to bed, Haro lies down beside him. Rei keeps petting him, one-handedly. With the other, he holds on to a cream sweater that isn't his.

When he breathes, it smells of too-long stakeouts in windy apartments.

Of Rye's extra blankets, the ones he started to bring when he noticed Bourbon always freezing; irritating to no end, how he was always better prepared for cold weather than Rei.

(It smells of Bourbon's cooking, given in exchange for soft blankets.)

Scents of a tentative alliance, as thread-bare as the fabric between them.

Grounded between the warmth of Haro, and the scent of Akai, Rei falls asleep, waiting for the dog days to finally be over.

[harrypoppinss]

Empty promises

Kili Durin x afab!reader

Warnings: heavy angst, established relationship, mention of character death, pre BOTFA

Summary: With the battle closing in and Thorin fighting the dragon sickness, you seek comfort in your one.

—————

The past few days have been rough to say the least. You had successfully made it to Erebor, and it has been reclaimed by Thorin the only problem was that he had fallen into the same sickness that his grandfather had. The dragon sickness from the gold that was claimed by Smaug after the fall of Erebor all those years ago.

The Orcs were near, you had a feeling. Thankfully though, Kili had lived through getting a poisoned arrow in his thigh and he was now in Erebor with his brother and the others that had been comforting him through the incident. Now here you were, wandering the halls of Erebor in search for your one.

You had never known a castle to be so confusing until now, but luckily you had spotted your brown haired boy sitting along the gigantic hole in the wall, gazing out at the lost city of Dale. You walked up behind him, before gently taking a seat beside him and like clockwork, his hand found yours.

“How are you feeling my love?” You asked him, being his knuckles up to your lips as you kissed his hand softly before allowing it to fall into your lap, still grasping onto your own. Kili sighed as he moved closer to you, his head finding your shoulder as your head rested on his. “As well as I can,” he said in a soft tone, his gaze not wavering from the empty city infront of Erebor that used to be so full of life and love.

The two of you sat like that in comfortable silence for a while, the only sound reaching your ears was his gentle breathing and the sound of the crickets singing in the tall grass outside. As you gazed out into the landscape, you couldn’t help but let a feeling of pure fear wash over you. Soon you would all be fighting for you life against Azog and his troops for middle earth.

“Amrâlimê?” Kili said in a soft whisper, making you glance at him as he lifted his head off of your shoulder to meet your gaze. “Yes love?” You asked back, your free hand grasping his other one has your thumbs rubbed over his knuckles. His eyes fell to your hands before he lifted then back up to look at you. “Are you afraid to die?” He asked you, catching you off guard completely. You looked at him like he had grown two heads, he had just been on the brink of death with the arrow and he was asking you if you were afraid to die?

“Well…” you said as you looked back out into the now peaceful landscape that you knew would be filled with blood and death soon. Sighing softly you looked back at your lover, a sad expression covering your face. “I am,” you said after a moment, before you brought both of his hands to your lips this time, kissing his knuckles once more. “But, I’m more afraid of losing you to the hands of the Orcs.” You said as you dropped his hands back into your lap as his eyes scanned your face.

“Oh Amrâlimê,” he sighed with a soft smile as he saw the faint tears building in the backs of your eyes. He reached out, bringing you into his chest as his hand ran along your hair gently. You arms wrapped around his neck as you nuzzled your face into his shoulder, the tears fall from your eyes staining his shirt temporarily. “I will never leave you, not in death nor in glory,” Kili whispered to you softly. “I would rather spend a thousand lifetimes fighting for you than allowing myself to be taken away for you in such a way.” He finished, tears of his own spilling down his cheeks as he pulled away from the hug to rest his forehead against your own.

“Promise?” You croaked out, your eyes meeting his brown orbs as you watched the corners of the crinkle softly as he couldn’t help but allow a small smile to overtake his features. “I promise, in this lifetime and the next.” He said, before he leaned in, placing a gentle kiss to your lips. If only he knew in the end, that the promise he made would have to wait until the next time you two meet again, until the next life when your souls will bound together as one again.

———————

Amrâlimê - My love; love of mine

[emily-mooon]

OK! here's the general idea for this Nordegrim Ghosts AU that has been haunting me:

CW FOR MENTIONS OF DEATH, ATTEMPTED MURDER, AND ALSO A TINY BIT SUGGESTIVE (just a tiny bit though)

Stacey, Scott, and Lawrence inherit this big house from a distant great aunt they have never met after she passed of old age. Scott is in debt so he cant take the house like he was supposed to, and Lawrence wants nothing to do with it, so Stacey gets it instead.

It’s perfect though cause her and Neil, who is also her husband now here, were planning to move houses anyways and were struggling to find a good place. Also since the house is super big, they thought about opening a hotel at one point once the house is all fixed up.

What they don't know is that the house is haunted. the ghosts in question are:

Knives Chau: A teenage girl from the 1950s who was a fan of rock n' roll that got pushed down the stairs by a jealous classmate (not Tamara btw that was her gf) at a party

Julie Powers (IDK her married last name yet): An Edwardian women who got pushed out the window by her husband (who is Joseph in this AU btw)

Stephen Stills: A folk singer from the mid 60s who dies in a fire (people confused him with the other Stephen Stills all the time)

Gideon Graves: A music producer from the late 60s early 70s who was poisoned by a rival producer

Lucas Lee: A Victorian lumber guy who was crushed by a wooden beam during the construction of the houses renovation

Todd Ingram: A 90s Rockstar who died while having sex with his bands drummer (which like in the comic, was also cheating on his girlfriend and it is still Lynette and Envy)

Lisa Miller: A somewhat famous 1930s actress who died while filming a scene

Matthew Patel: An early 19th century poet who died in a duel that was orchestrated by a good friend of his

Roxie Richter(she has no last name in this au btw, putting it here cause I put everyone elses last names here): A Viking who was struck by lighting

Ken and Kyle Katayanagi : Inventors/mechanics from the late 19th century who died in a car explosion along with their dog (who is a dog version of robot 0-1 btw). They live in the carriage house as its far more peaceful than the main house

The ghosts overhear the hotel idea when Stacey and Neil are talking about it and they are not too pleased with it. So they try to haunt them so they'll leave, but ultimately fail.

Then either Gideon or Todd, come across Stacey leaning out the window and decide to push her in an another attempt to get them to leave which in turn, almost kills her. Because of this, now Stacey can see ghosts and forms a close friendship with them. Neil, like Mike and I assume Jay in bbc and cbs ghosts respectively, will have a collage of what they all look like since he cannot see them.

So yeah that's my idea so far! I’m still tweaking things but I’m happy with this rn. I’ll definitely make art for it at some point (and if people want it, an ask blog). Feel free to also suggest some ideas for this au if you have any :]

[captain-gillian]

fic pride friday

Rules: Post your favorite line or passage from as many of your published works as you’d like. Let yourself feel proud of your creations! Tag as many people as you post snippets, so your fellow fic friends can be proud, too.

thank you for the tag @lemonlyman-dotcom i'm using this to try and be kinder to myself in how i think about my own writing

strays (5 + 1 of TK attempting to bring home a 'pet' from a call, Nancy POV)

“Carlos has been talking about maybe getting a cat…” TK muses. Here we go again , Nancy thinks.  There’s no mistaking the look on her partner’s face; she’s seen it more times than she can count—he wants to take this wild animal home. She knows his heart is in the right place, but the sooner Carlos relents and lets him get a cat—or a fish, or a hamster even, any kind of pet—the better as far as she’s concerned because talking him out of bringing home new ‘pets’ every week gets exhausting. “Dude, stop, don’t even say it.”  “You can’t possibly know what I was going to say.” “I know you, TK. You were going to suggest that murder mittens over there might be a good cat for you and Carlos to adopt, but the answer is no.” “Murder mittens? Look at him, Nancy—he’s just a little baby.” TK says, gazing longingly across the room at the tiger cub. “TK, I can’t believe we even need to have this conversation. You can’t raise a tiger in a downtown apartment. Tigers aren’t pets, or did you forget why we ended up here in the first place?" “Oh, but look at him. He’s only a baby. He wouldn’t hurt a fly.” “This week, he’s a baby, sure. But do you know what babies do, TK? They grow up, and then you will be the one calling 911 because your 200-pound murder kitty went for the jugular, and when that happens, I’m not coming to save your ass, dude.”

nothing a kiss better can't fix (soft tarlos)

“Seriously, it’s nothing, TK,” Carlos says as he leans against the back of the 126 ambulance with his worried fiancé methodically checking him over.  “It’s not nothing, Carlos. You’re bleeding .” TK tells him, trying to gently guide him towards the stretcher. “Now, will you please sit down and let me treat you?” “I’m okay, TK. Breathe,” Carlos says, taking his fiancé’s hand. “This is nothing a kiss better can’t fix.”  “Is a kiss better for a certain flu-riddled fiancé of yours, perhaps exactly how you ended up in this situation, dude?” Nancy asks with a raised eyebrow and a laugh. “First of all, I’m not ‘flu riddled’,” TK tells her, putting dramatic air quotes around his words. “And second, how do you know about that?”  “When are you going to just admit I know everything,” Nancy tells him with a grin before adding. “Also, you’re both, like, hella predictable.”

sugar, butter, flour (5 + 1 TK and Gwyn baking)

His father and Carlos have always assured him that Jonah will know her through him, but as they stand in the kitchen, he wonders how he can ever live up to the task. TK is uncomfortably aware of the ache of grief in his chest alongside a sharp streak of guilt. Guilt that he got 28 years of her love but spent so many of them pushing it away, too deep in the spiral of addiction to accept it. Those were years Jonah will never get, and TK wasted them.

and again (nancymarjan)

And then before she can dwell on it any further, the countdown hits midnight, the fireworks start in the distance, and Marjan kisses her. It’s like nothing she’s ever felt before, and while Nancy has never been a believer in destiny or soulmates, right now, at this moment, it’s undeniable that Marjan is her soulmate. 

when everythings made to be broken (introspective carlos/a 4x01 coda)

He takes a deep breath and silently tells himself, “You can do this,” and suddenly, he’s nineteen again and doing whatever he can to be a good son and live up to expectations. He’s standing at the altar trying to convince himself he can do this, that somehow he’ll be able to love her like he’s supposed to—like God wants him to—because his parents need him to, his family needs him to. He’s silently praying that, in time, he’ll be able to love like she deserves. She’s his best friend, and he can learn to love her like this, surely—he owes her that. But it doesn’t work out—despite his best efforts, he can’t love her the way she deserves, so he moves out, and she starts dating again, and he’s ready to drown in his shame. And then she disappears, and as the months drag on without a single credible lead, he goes through all the stages. 

no pressure tagging

@fallout-mars @paperstorm @literateowl

@reyesstrand @welcometololaland

[life-despair-and-monsters-blog]

Kinktober Day 23 & 26: "Bondage/Restraints" & "Voyeurism/Exhibitionism" - For OTP: "Femme Fatale and the Apex" (Sonya x Jennifer)

Tagged by @socially-awkward-skeleton @imogenkol and @josephseedismyfather

Tagging @adelaidedrubman @spookyrares @derelictheretic @inafieldofdaisies @noodlecupcakes @direwombat @voidika @cassietrn @aceghosts @icecutioner @shallow-gravy @strangefable @statichvm @cloudofbutterflies92 @carlosoliveiraa @wrathfulrook @ladyoriza @la-grosse-patate @thewanderer-000 @omen-speaker @alypink @shellibisshe @josephslittledeputy @skoll-sun-eater @g0dspeeed @afarcryfrommymain @strafethesesinners @turbo-virgins and @florbelles + anyone else who want to join.

Prompt based on this kinktober post made by fellow mutual @starsandskies. While the main Kink of this post is "Bondage/Restraints" & some "Voyeurism/Exhibitionism", there's also some minor inclusions of "Dirty Talk", "Orgasm Control", "Praise Kink", "Knife Play" and "Dom/Sub dynamic". I would have put down "Naked-Clothed" but the "clothed" person in question is an almost 10-foot tall cyborg beastie (with a human's brain) whose only covering is metal welded into the flesh so... SHRUG!

Anyway, SimpleGenius here from my Life, Despair & Monsters Blog. Just making my first contribution to Kinktober. I'm not really an excessive smut writer, though with that being said, I have written it on occasion, just never posting it (...until now). This is a oneshot devoted to Sonya and Jennifer just being their kinky selves.

From the mature tag and the title you can probably already guess that this oneshot (which will also be uploaded onto my AO3 as well) contains explicitly sexual content meant for 18+ users only. Minors Do Not Interact!

Here's some more warnings to scare off any stowaways.

CW: Explicit BDSM, Teasing/edging, stripping, (tail???) knife play, the equivalent of thigh riding for these two (but on Sonya's tail), naked female with not kind of non-naked female (there's like barbie physiques/anatomy involved with Sonya), and minor mention of a blood kink (unsurprisingly Jennifer's kind of a freak too). Basically monster-fucking (maybe robot-fucking? Or would it be cyborg-monster fucking???). A mix between praise and degradation kinks. Sexual fantasies. Really freaky behavior coming from these two. But very enthusiastic consent! Also vulgar language. And whatever else there is.

I’ve tried my best to research the sex aspect of it all, and even if I don’t believe it’s all accurate I think I did good with what I could find.

TW: Slight mentions of referenced murder and maybe cannibalism (Sonya's got a human brain inside a very non-human body so I don't know what lines that crosses). And minor implications of a toxic dynamic. They're both possessive people who suck so bad.

With that out of the way, I hope you do enjoy what I've written below the cut. This will officially be my first smut that I've publicly published. I'll be sure to reblog this post with the link to the one that'll be posted on my AO3. Also I'll be publishing another Kinktober Oneshot shortly after this one from my @the-silver-chronicles blog, about the main couple of that series, Silva and Faith. So don't be alarmed by a random ping from an icon you may or may not recognize.

Title: The Tails That Bind

Series: Life, Despair & Monsters (Love Death + Robots)

Character/s: Sonya/Sonnie | The Apex/Khanivore (re-interpreted canon character with OC qualities), Jennifer, Dicko (referenced in passing) and Sir Enigma Malvolio (referenced OC).

Words: 5,635

She heard her before she saw her; the click-clack of heels on marble closing in to their quarters.

Sonya remained where she was though; hanging from the ceiling in the expansive space that was refurbished to specifically accommodate her massive form, the high walls adorned with deep claw marks and scrapes she entrenched her talons and tail spikes into. Certainly, better than the restrictive pod or the dirty paddocks.

In contrast to her usual straightforwardness, when it came to dealing with her "mistress" of all people, Sonya made an effort in entertaining her more dramatic flairs.

If only to piss off the shrewd woman.

The door opened with such force that when Sonya peeked through her only optic, shutters uncoiling from her lens, to witness the blonde slam the door shut with a ferocity that immediately turned her on.

Someone's already pissy today, Sonya noted as she continued to observe with growing interest.

Jennifer turned around, short blonde hair barely touching her shoulders, noticeably a little frazzled with a few more wild strands curling out than usual. Her yellow rose still managed to survive staying pinned in her hair in spite of the fact Jennifer looked on the verge of ripping her hair out.

Her brows were furrowed, her face was scrunched in anger and a lovely snarl adorned her lips. Blue eyes darted to her white laced gloves, ripping them off as she mumbled curses under her breath. Sonya's optic lingered on the curves of her body, covered only by the golden dress Jennifer preferred to wear.

Sonya preferred when she didn't wear anything. Ogling Jennifer had been the closest her human brain could get to experiencing arousal within a body that wasn't designed to feel it. She had to get creative and tamper with many of the strange machinations and codes Malvolio left in her cursed Beastie body to at least have her body acknowledge the feelings.

In spite of this, she was still so far from reaching her goal of actually feeling the satisfactory conclusion of pleasure.

"-that old fuck!" Sonya was brought back to reality by the enraged outburst from Jennifer.

"Which old fuck are you referring to this time?" Sonya spoke in a voice more mature and sophisticated than her original gruff and accented voice, the crackling of the speaker embedded in her throat alerting Jennifer to the other presence in the room.

Jennifer's alarmed blue eyes pointedly gazed up to meet her gleaming red optic. However, she relaxed once she saw it was just Sonya, who uncoiled herself to lower her body, but refrained from leaving the ceiling just yet.

"It's one of Dicko's closer business partners," Jennifer told the Apex, kneeling down to take off her heels, "And I thought you were down in your workshop."

That doesn't narrow it down to who it is at all, Sonya wanted to retort, but chose to respond with, "I was, but it's so hot down there that I decided to seek out the coolest room I knew of."

"The wonders of an air con," Jennifer remarked, moving over to her vanity desk to set down her yellow rose from her hair.

Sonya rolled her optic at the snide comment, and returned her attention back to the source of Jennifer's sour mood, "Which one of Dicko's partners had it been? Ross or Carmen?"

"Ross. Carmen took a vacation, lucky bastard," Jennifer grumbled about the latter, though the former's name was spoken with disgust, "He was countering every proposition I made. Questioning my ability as a successor to Dicko's business. And attempting to belittle me in front of every one of those weak and cowardly geezers. The absolute gall!"

Sonya lowered herself above the bed, talons underneath her jaw as she watched her mistress rage. If she could, she'd be squeezing her thighs together to add a little friction. Unfortunately, her body wasn't included with genitals, and rubbing her thighs together in this body would just be pointless, so she could only visualize the image to force herself from screaming internally.

"The fucker was also leering at me. Almost all of them were," Jennifer continued, sitting down onto the foot of her massive mattress with a huff.

"I don't blame them," Sonya replied, extending her neck so her head was close above Jennifer, "Your body is desirable. You're probably the only woman in their life they can jack off to. I know that's what I'd be doing."

Jennifer abruptly turned with a face full of red; not blushing red, but pissed off red.

"Oh, fuck you," she replied, standing up to move away from Sonya and the bed.

"You'd have to beg me for that," Sonya said in a sing-song rhythm, chortling.

Jennfier crossed her arms as she stewed in her anger more, "This is serious. I know they're conspiring against me. Honestly, I wish I could have them all dead by tomorrow morning."

Sonya piqued at that, red optic widening with optimism.

"You know, if Ross is being so bothersome," she spoke up, her next words a suggestion, "I could eat him for you."

Jennifer turned to look at the beastie, opened her mouth to chide her, but closed it as she considered the idea, a smile crossing her lips, until a frown swiftly replaced it, and she shook her head.

"While I certainly wouldn't be against the idea," she told the Apex with sincere consideration, she rebuked the idea, "I can't just make an example out of him. At least not right now. I require his cooperation to gain access to his assets, and if I killed him now, it'd harm my reputation and standing with the other partners. And without them, we won't have a chance of finding Malvolio."

The very name of that... thing made Sonya's entire nervous system shudder, the dark thoughts resurfacing. She let them fester at the edge of her mind, before dispelling them back to the pits. She'll let them re-emerge once they found the creature; let him face the result of his violation towards her body.

Jennifer huffed out a sigh, which returned Sonya's attention back to her even as she went to make her leave, "I need to let off some steam."

Sonya tilted her head as she watched Jennifer pause just a step away from the door. The woman's blue eyes glanced back to the beastie, gaze following the Apex's elongated muscled arms, thick metal-plated tails, their twitching rattles near the piercing pincers and closed sharp jaw.

She bit her bottom lip, her hands slid down to her hips as she slowly strutted back over to Sonya.

"You know," Jennifer said as she reached the bed, "I just remembered how I never thanked you for stopping that assassin. And a good beast like you deserves a fitting reward for protecting her mistress so well."

Sonya cocked her head, red optic narrowing down at Jennifer. Sonya remembered the incident clearly; there had been a scorned bidder who lost because of Dicko's fateful mistake of convincing them to bet a lot of money against Malvolio. He managed to slip past Jennifer's guards and got too close for Sonya's liking.

Luckily, the Apex was on Jennifer's patrol guard, and she had spotted the glint of the knife before it had even left its sheath. Fittingly, she gave the man the same end she gave Dicko when saving her mistress; a biting introduction to her maw.

But that had been several weeks ago.

"Is that so?" Sonya inquired, wishing she had a brow to raise.

Jennifer only nodded, wetting her petite lips. She slid two fingers on both hands underneath her dress' loose straps, letting them fall limply down her arms to expose more skin. She reached behind her back, tugging the zip down behind her dress so she could loosen her front, exposing a small amount of cleavage to the Apex.

Sonya was surprised of her own self-control when her lens zoomed in on the skin, how calm and collected she managed to breathe. She restrained herself though; she had too much pride in herself to lay down and roll over like a dog.

No, she had a better idea.

"Oh, don't bullshit me with your "reasoning" darling, you just want me to fuck your brains out until you forget your own name and can't remember your troubles in the morning," Sonya retorts, her talons touching the ground as she leans over the bed, bringing her head closer to Jennifer's face.

There was no fear in her mistress' eyes, only a waiting expectation and a carnality that involuntarily made the Apex shake in excitement. Sonya continued, "If you think you can flatter me into getting between your legs, then I encourage you to resume because it is working."

Jennifer grinned in triumph as she proceeded to pull her zipper down further, but halted when Sonya added, "However, as I said before, it'll require you to beg."

Jennifer scoffed and shook her head, "I'm not doing that. You fuck me, or you don't. Your choice."

Despite her confidence, Sonya saw through her act and huffed out a disappointed steam of air as she started retracting backwards, "Oh well, I guess I won't-"

With her bluff blown, Jennifer's eyes widened as she reached forward for the Apex's face, pleading, "Wait! Fuck, fine, please fuck me. Please plow my pussy with your long, flexible and magnificent tongue until my mind goes blank. Make me scream your name each time you make me cum. I'll do anything you want, Sonya."

Sonya wished she could grin just as badly as she wished she could get wet right now.

She decided to put an end to her mistress' misery.

"Since you begged so desperately for it, I guess I have no choice but to fuck your brains out," Sonya concurred, and hummed, "But I'm curious... you'll do anything I want?"

Jennifer paused, narrowed her eyes in challenge, and responded, "Yes. I'll... try whatever you want, as long as I get fucked in the end. Sound like a fair exchange?"

Sonya nodded and tapped a talon on her chin in thought. There weren't much things her body could be used for during sex that wouldn't be detrimental to Jennifer's health, with exception to her tongue and the rattles under her curved blades that tipped her tails.

Although, she recalled the night she and Jennifer had met and began their cooperation, specifically to the moment where the Apex had Jennifer restrained with her tails, That has been something I've wanted to do again.

Gaining an idea, she replied, "You know, I've been wanting to try some bondage on you."

Jennifer's face scrunched in confusion until Sonya's tails disconnected from the walls and awaited by the Apex's sides. There were three in total, all tipped with dagger like pincers, and two rattles that resided near the curve of the blade, which she's been allowed to use like a vibrator before.

Jennifer once again bit her bottom lip while she thought of those around her body.

"I have no complaints," she tells the beastie, though frowns at the state of the bed, "Though I'm not getting naked until the bed's cleared of your mess."

Sonya knelt up so she could get a better look at the bed. Her optic immediately spotted the dust and chips of the ceiling that managed to fall down.

Without much patience, Sonya took the solution of using her tails to tip the bed to the side and shake off all the unwanted variables, before setting it back down normally.

"That better?" she asked.

Jennifer looked at the newest state of her large bed, which now lacked the pillows and blankets that were unceremoniously tossed off. Though seeing that the silk sheets remained on, all Jennifer responded with was a calm yet exasperated, "Sure."

Sonya positioned herself closer to the wall of the bed's frame, knelt down so she wouldn't cover most of the bed's space when her head laid down, while also keeping her tails free and ready.

Jennifer crawled onto the bed, swaying her body seductively while she made her way over to the Apex's head, which allowed the straps of her golden dress to loosen further down, just above her elbows. The front of her dress barely hung close to her chest, and Sonya swore she felt her brain overheat when her optic focused on the view of more of Jennifer's cleavage barely hidden by the loose clothes.

Jennifer got close enough to the Apex's face just to lean upwards until she sat at her bare heels, one hand going behind to zip her dress down the rest of the way, while the other kept the front of her dress from falling down. Sonya slightly tilted her head up so her optic could capture everything.

"I know how excited you've been for this," Jennifer purred as she gazed into the red hue of Sonya's optic, "I know you've been craving to see these again."

She pulled one strap down all the way, and then freed her arm of the other, before grabbing her the front of her dress and pulling the golden gown down, slightly jiggling free her petite perky tits. Sonya shook with a passionate eagerness at the visual image, just about all her mind could express through the body without pouncing onto Jennifer to forgo the bondage altogether.

She wanted to restrain herself, to prolong this just long enough to enjoy the experience and ensure she actually succeeds in listening to Jennifer's only demand.

"I know you've missed them," Jennifer swayed her chest, catching the Apex full attention. She grabbed hold of her breasts, massaging and giving her tits a pleasing yet playful squeeze as Sonya observed, winding herself up while putting on a show for her beastie. She gasped as she flicked her nipples, gently twisting them between her fingers as the tingling sensations caused her thighs to rub together.

She was enjoying herself now, and from how she looked at Sonya's quivering form, she knew the Apex enjoyed this show as well.

Jennifer stood up, dragging her hands over her breasts as she brought them across the skin of her body, the ticklish senses stirring a heat to coil within her. She performed a sensual dance in view of Sonya's optic, bringing her hands down to her hips where her dress hung closely, thumbs digging under the gown's hem, teasingly dragging it below her pelvis.

She spun around in her erotic sway, much to Sonya's surprise, but leaned down as she dragged the rest of her dress over her sexy ass, nothing worn underneath. She let the golden gown fall the rest of the way and glanced back at Sonya's now widened optic. With a pleased smirk, Jennifer gave herself a resounding smack against one of the cheeks.

Sonya's talons scraped against the marble floor. She clenched her jaw as she clutched hold over her fraying self-control, deciding that Jennifer's teasing needed to end here.

Thankfully, it was just about time Jennifer finished her little striptease for Sonya, and her blonde mistress knelt on her heels, dainty hands grabbing hold one of the alien protrusions coming out the Apex's head and underneath the narrow chin of her sharp jaw respectively, intentionally pressing her petite breasts against the optic as she leaned her head down to a small slit beside Sonya's frame to sultrily whisper in her audio receptors.

"What now, Sonnie?"

The lustful softness of her nickname snapped Sonya out of her patient observations, and she lifted her head up out of Jennifer's hold so her red optic could meet her mistress' blue eyes below.

"Now, I'll require you to turn around," Sonya instructed, her tails moving closer to the bed, "Make sure your arms are crossed behind you, and legs spread apart."

Jennifer turned around as instructed; not without doing a little show of shaking her ass temptingly as she settled into the position. Sonya was fueled with even more excitement of the opportunity of returning some teasing of her own.

Jennifer crossed her arms behind her, and Sonya immediately coiled her middle tail around the smaller woman's waist which then extended to her dainty hands, earning a surprise yelp from her mistress as her arms were secured tightly.

"Do you trust me?" Sonya let the question out softly at the shell of Jennifer's ear, her middle tail's blade carefully and gently stroking its cool steel-like tip down the human's back. The bladed pincer soon curved to brush one of mistress' lower cheeks, sensing her body clench at the sensual contact on instinct while the other tails began to coil under and around her thighs, "To release your doubts? To let go of all your inhibitions?"

With me, Sonya left unsaid. She shunned the thought... the very emotion infecting it, aside to the corners of her mind. No need to mix feelings with pleasure. Especially when she was nothing more than a thing to Jennifer...

As both tails snaked up from Jennifer's thighs to her upper body, the left pincer delicately scraped along her stomach while the right began to curl around her right breast with the blade leaving a ghost of a kiss to her jaw in passing.

Jennifer gasped out a light moan when her middle tail began to rub against her wet cunt, in a back and forth motion, ensuring the blade's sharpness did not touch the soft flesh. Soon the sleek metal was glistened with her slickness.

"Fuck, yes," Jennifer answered approvingly, rocking her wet cunt in unison of the tail. She bit her bottom lip to suppress another moan as the left and right tipped tails coiled around her tits, the appendages lightly playing with her breasts with deliberate twists and squeezes, the blades lightly kissing along the sensitive flesh.

Sonya focused on the priority of not piercing the skin with her tipped blades. She teased the flesh with an expertise akin to a surgeon, with her only intent of not cutting in and letting Jennifer bleed.

God forbid Jennifer cums early to the sight of her own blood because Sonya got sloppy. The Apex wanted to prolong this for her own sense of pleasure as well.

Soon her tails lifted up Jennifer, much to the smaller woman's surprise. Sonya raised her above the beastie's head, claws brought on to the bed in case the Apex had to catch her.

Slowly, she rotated Jennifer upside-down so her optic could get a better look at her reactions. To her delight, Jennifer squirmed in her grip, like last time. Unlike last time, the cause of her squirming came from the vibrating rattles that grazed closer to her swelling clit, the tipped blade positioned to poke above her trimmed blonde pubic hair.

Jennifer whined when the rattles on the left and right tails began to move, flicking her erect nipples between the vibrating pair on both coiled tails. She tried to arch her back into the vibrating sensations, as well as attempted to widen her legs so the rattles on the middle tail would have more space, but Sonya kept her restrained in position, brushing the rattles to her wet puffy pussy but never staying for long. She was completely at Sonya's mercy.

Much to the younger woman's growing frustration. A frustration that transitioned into a filthy, primal need.

Sonya was enticed by the desperate whines that escaped Jennifer's mouth, her red optic hungrily filling it's view of her elevated bare body; held up by her, restrained by her, receiving and being denied pleasure from her.

She focused on the blonde's gaping pouts, faint blush forming across her face, her blonde hair flowing downwards. Sonya's tongue flicked within her closed maw at the sight of sweat beginning to break from her mistress' body, who uselessly rutted her hips in the air to reach the teasing rattles, how pronounced her small breasts were from their bound state and the slick juices surrounding her pussy.

Sonya's entire system felt a fluctuation of pleasure within herself from the visual stimuli. It wouldn't be enough to ever reach a satisfying conclusion, though it was fun, nonetheless. When her audio receptors picked up pleading mewls coming from Jennifer, Sonya knew it was nearly time to settle her part of this exchange.

"What was that?" Sonya playfully inquired, listening to the words being interrupted by soft gasps whenever her rattles vibrated too close to her sensitive cunt and swollen clit, "I can't hear what you’re trying to say over such lewd sounds darling. Could you perhaps speak up?”

Through shaky breaths, Jennifer swallowed her murmured pleas and choked out a strained, "Sonya... I don't know how much longer I can do this. I want to cum. Please, it's unbearable, let me cum already. Stop teasing and fuck me!"

Sonya ate up her begging cries; she could see a glimpse of forming tears at her eyes. She briefly wondered if she should just wait long enough for her mistress to start crying, so she could bring out her tongue and lap up the falling tears. She hadn't kissed the woman's face with her tongue in a while, it could be a nice change of pace to show she cared-

As quickly as that idea came, Sonya dismissed the thought with a visceral fear? rejection. If she did that, then she wouldn't stop at the tasteful tears; she'd continue stroking her tongue along Jennifer's sweaty and salty unmarked flesh, until she got down to between her thighs and fed on the fluids there.

She could make Jennifer cry from pleasure then, sure; but she didn't want to use her tongue to have the woman undone, she wanted her mistress gushing from her very touch.

Sonya refocused on Jennifer once more, her helpless form cursing underneath her breath as her breasts were continuously played with while her pussy received nothing but teasing touches that edged her on but denied her true release.

Sonya hummed, feigning pondering in thought, as she took a sweet moment to bask in the wanton whimpers that were caused by her.

"How badly do you want this?" Sonya asked her, bringing her red optic to Jennifer's pleading blue eyes, "How desperate are you to want to be undone by a terrible beast like me? Say it..."

Those two husky, imploring, eager words made Jennifer shiver, feeling hotter. Through the haze, she rasped out with a sense of urgent need she's never spoken in before, "I can think of no one else who can satisfy me like you..."

Though caught off-guard, Sonya was not unsatisfied with the answer. She absorbed those words into the very core of her mind, sparking a renewed sense of determination.

"Well then," the beastie said, Jennifer's words lingering on the precipices of her audio receptors, feeling her "heart" pump faster, "I think you've endured enough teasing. You deserve this for being such a good, patient girl."

Jennifer shrieked in surprise when the vibrating rattles were buried against her slick folds and sensitive clit. However, when the initial shock wore off, it was replaced with an alluring moan, followed by a symphony of gasps, the short bursts of pleased shouts, and the sweet curses that she managed through her panting. She closed her eyes and started to arch her back again, and this time Sonya adjusted her tails grip to accommodate Jennifer's position.

It wouldn't be long until she was finished. Though Sonya decided to speed up the process by taking advantage of one of Jennifer's weaknesses; her voice.

"You should see yourself," Sonya husked out, her voice thick with lust, "How fucking enrapturing you are right now. Above here, bound by me, fucked by me, you look like a goddess. Oh, your little noises make it so tempting to ravish your flesh and pussy so I can make you scream louder."

Jennifer failed to suppress the whiny, pathetic whimper with a tender lip bite, and Sonya snickered at the reaction.

"Oh, but it's true," Sonya responded, the quills along her back standing up, elated by such noises as she continued, "Though I never realized how restraining you like this could bring out even more beautiful noises from you. I could just have you like this whenever you're being so bratty. Rip that dress off. Bind your limbs. Tease your wet cunt, edging it as you rut like a bitch in heat chasing after that final release. But it'll never come. More accurately, you'll never cum."

The image of Jennifer on her knees in this bedroom, writhing in the restraints of Sonya's tail, desperately begging her to end the torment, brought a familiar sense of sadism into her system. However, she did feel an odd sensation of heat rise in her body.

She returned back to the assignment at hand, the heat radiating at the back of her mind as she hummed and said, "Oh can you envision it, Jennifer? How much of a writhing, filthy mess you'd be? You'd be left unsatisfied, without release. Not unless you crawled onto your knees and begged so pitifully. Maybe alone. Maybe not. But tell me, if you were to do that, should I give in and fuck you like I do now?"

A resounding and gasping "YES" was Jennifer's response as her hips jutted at the rattles faster. So close now...

"Such an enthusiastic answer. You must be so close now," Sonya noted, not noticing her own jaw gaping open as her red optic recorded Jennifer's unravelling, "You've taken me so well this far. Letting me taste you, ruin you. So strong and resilient. With the most perfect body just for me. You do these filthy activities so impressively, as a naughty girl like you should. Oh, I love the way your flesh bruises and reddens and scars from me. I love the taste of your tears, of your sweat and of your juices. And I love how loud I make you scream and cry and moan. Especially when the only word coming out of your mouth is my name. Makes me fantasize doing it all in front of everyone. What say you? Perhaps on a live hologram broadcast during a Beastie tournament? In the storage unit for all the passing guards and personnel to listen to? Or maybe in a meeting with those morons who dare to ogle you-?"

Sonya was interrupted by an abrupt and approving moan, which slipped into a pleased humming smile from Jennifer.

"Oh? You like that idea? Is that what you want?" Sonya inquired with an endeared curiosity, surprised by the quick nod that followed, "Does it turn you on? At the thought of me fucking you in front of those leering senile men? My, my. What a dirty little slut you are, wanting to be humiliated by me so desperately that you would want those old fucks to see how good I make you feel. Or perhaps it because you want to show them that you're mine. For me, and me alone. No one else. Maybe in one of your next meetings, I'll accompany you. And whenever you go to speak, I'll be behind you, my long, flexible and magnificent tongue lapping at the nape of your neck, nibbling at the flesh with teasing little bites, my claws digging at your glimmering dress. One tail snaking under your skirt. Maybe I'll leave small cuts in passing, letting that lovely crimson run down those fine legs of yours. But once that tail reaches its destination, I'll let the vibrations tease your wet cunt until your legs begin to wobble."

"I'll tear open the front of your dress, let those ravishing tits of yours breathe within a room where they've been dreamed about for so long, except the only one having any fun with them there will be me," Sonya had a tail squeeze promisingly around one of Jennifer's tits as emphasis, "I'll have another tail play with one while my tongue lavishes the other. Don't worry, I'll have my last tail free to ensure none of them stop us, and no one leaves, bound by their pathetic fear. I'll rip your dress off, exposing your body to them all, let them see how dripping fucking wet you are for me, and I'll pick you up, bring you to the table, splayed out like a feast ready to be dined. But only for one though."

She pressed her closed jaw to whisper, "None of them will touch you. We'll show them how well you take me. How beautiful you sing my name. How much you enjoy being fucked dirty by me, and how good of a naughty girl you are to me. Show them you find more pleasure whoring yourself to a beastie than being touched by any of their limp dicks. Reveal your deadliness to them, unleash your claws and mark my metal with your scratches as I leave my own marks along your beautiful body. I bet their hearts would give out at the sight. I don't think their weak pride could take it. The fact you'd cum to a- disgu- terrible monst- beast like me, wouldn't you agree, my sexy- gorgeous- beautif- fucking - goddes- belov- m-!"

Everything was so unbearably hot. Her mind seemed to be on some kind of fritz, just like her voice box. Diagnostics on the system returned with nothing of issue, nor of any errors.

And yet Sonya felt so unbelievably strained from the task at hand. As if exhaustion of all things was overcoming her body as she continued to bring Jennifer closer to her release.

And her voice box. She didn't understand what was wrong with it. It bugged out, replacing words she wanted to say with those she'd never in her life say to Jennifer. But most importantly...

Was that my voice? Not her current voice, the one she was forced to adopt, but the one that Malvolio stole from her.

It didn't matter much, focusing on it was too much of a strain while she was fucking Jennifer at the same time. She refocused her efforts in bringing her mistress over the edge.

Luckily, she didn't have to wait long.

Her words, in combination to the unrelenting rattles fucking her pussy and fondling her breasts, had culminated in Jennifer arching her back more while screaming out Sonya's name, accompanied by the gushing squirts onto the Apex's tail.

Witnessing the result, Sonya swiftly stopped the rattles and brought Jennifer down to the bed safely. She managed to lay the woman down onto her front before her usually durable limbs failed her. She caught herself from laying on top of Jennifer, and carefully positioned herself to lay down by Jennifer's left.

Both beastie and mistress heaved for air, the activity exhausting for both parties involved, much to Sonya's bafflement.

They laid beside each other, just for the moment, to catch their breath.

Jennifer opened her blue eyes to just gaze at the Apex, eyes taking in Sonya's strangely exhausted form. She brushed a strand of her now messy and sweaty blonde hair aside, let out a little laugh, and said, "That was... amazing."

Sonya grunted in agreement, unable to currently verbalize. She did use enough strength to bring the tipped middle tail to her view, the rattles and the curved blade under it glimmering in Jennifer's juices, not dissimilar to the woman's dress.

She opened her jaw to bring her tongue out, cleaning up the slick fluids. She rumbled approvingly at the sweetly sour taste.

Her audio receptors picked up on the soft sound of a slick pussy being gently stroked. Sonya looked over to see Jennifer still staring at her but with a newfound hunger. Sonya noticed that her ass was slightly bent up, with one of her hands massaging her cunt.

"You look so hot when you do that," she husked out, and Sonya felt her exhaustion dissipate when Jennifer asked, "Do you want to put that tongue to better use?"

Sonya tilted her head, her lens focusing on Jennifer's face, "Round two? Now?"

"Don't you remember what we agreed on? "Until my mind goes blank", "until I forget my own name" and "can't remember my troubles in the morning"," Jennifer recalled, and in that sultry mocking tone of hers, "Or are you tapping out after round one?"

A new edge burned within Sonya, and she leaned up, looking down at Jennifer's nude body, asking, "Is that a challenge?"

Jennifer though playfully shrugged, spreading her legs wider as she continued stroking herself with hushed breathy moans.

Sonya took the opportunity to place her right hand over on the other side of Jennifer, until she was above the woman. She retracted until she was staring at both her mistress' sexy ass and her glistened pussy.

Blue eyes glanced to Sonya's observing form, and removed her slick-covered hand, caressing it on one of her ass cheeks before giving it a smack to entice the beastie, as she returned her hand to under her chin.

Sonya let out an amused chuckle as she took out her tongue. However, she pressed it from her mistress' tail bone all the way up her spine, the heat and wetness of the elongated and rough bio-mechanical muscle causing Jennifer to gasp and shiver from its texture.

Sonya lowered herself so she was right on top of her mistress, her gaping jaw releasing a soft exhale of hot steam brush at the woman's ear.

"You're not going to make it to any meetings tomorrow," Sonya informed her mistress.

Jennifer only smirked at her words, not returning a reply as she got comfortable. The beastie retracted back to where her mistress needed her the most.

Though unnecessary, Sonya couldn't help but lick around her mouth as she prepared to satiate her hunger, as well as Jennifer's.

[A/n] And from there on, Jennifer decided bondage was an excellent excuse to get out of a meeting she didn't want to attend the next day.

I wanna say that I may have gone a bit overboard, but overboard is just in-character for them (at least in my series).

[yeetmeoutthewindowdaddy]

Love is an open wound

Zevlor x Rolan, past Zevlor x Kanon.

Inspired by this post, which I misread. 🤦‍♀️

Warnings: Angst, hurt/comfort, spoilers, mild canon divergence for Act 1, panic attack, nightmares, horror, body horror, semi-graphic depictions of violence, PTSD symptoms, nonconsensual enthrallment, nonconsensual use of the Calm Emotions spell (consent is given after), survivors guilt, (minor) character deaths, canon character deaths (more like Kanon character death).

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The Absolute had been defeated and peace, or as much peace that a city such as Baldur's Gate could hope to have, had been restored. Ravenguard had managed to purge the worst of the corruption which had infested the highest reaches of government, and the city had been rebuilt.

The tiefling refugees were thriving in the port-city. Alfira had almost a dozen music students. Dammon's forge had months worth of commissions lined up, with more coming in everyday. Rolan had become the Master of Ramazith's Tower and business was booming at Sorcerers Sundries. He had also recently opened a free public library that anyone was welcome to use— so long as they treated the books and scrolls with due care. Bex and Danis had recently adopted a cat. Zevlor had refound his faith and was a paladin once more.

Zevlor was also in a committed relationship with Rolan. To say he was shocked when the mage had approached him after the elder brain had been defeated and asked him on a date would be an understatement. Zevlor was dubious anent the younger man's desires; why would a powerful, young, handsome man like Rolan want an old, washed up, soldier such as him? But Rolan was nothing if not determined, and after much reassurance Zevlor allowed himself to give into his "selfish" desires, and now (just over a year and a half later) they were living together in Ramazith's Tower.

Zevlor had fretted about how Rolan's protective siblings would react to their brother dating an older man, but Cal and Lia welcomed him with open arms (after giving him a shovel talk). "He's had a crush on you since he hit puberty." Lia had told the old Hellrider, much to Rolan's chagrin.

Zevlor was elated to find that he got on well with the mage's siblings. Cal was delighted to have another level-headed person to diffuse Lia and Rolan's constant bickering. While Lia was eager to train with the old Hellrider. She had even privately thanked Zevlor for being a calming influence on her bristly brother.

"Rolan isn't as pissy now that the stick that was shoved up his ass has been replaced with your great sword."

(Zevlor couldn't look her in the eyes for 2 tendays.)

The commander had also befriended the local population of stray cats. Zevlor was fairly certain that most of them only saw him as a meal ticket, but there were a few who seemed to genuinely enjoy his company.

Life was good and Zevlor was content, most of the time. But sometimes he'd catch a glimpse of Rolan out of the corner of his eye, or he'd see the younger tiefling approaching with the evening sun brightly blazing behind him, and for a split second he'd swear that he'd seen Kanon.

The two young men were very different people, in both their looks and their personalities— but both of them sported shoulder length hair, and their horn structures were almost identical; making them look just similar enough that, in the right light, Zevlor would see brief glimpses of Kanon when he looked at Rolan.

These bittersweet moments made Zevlor's heart ache. Guilt and anxiety made his stomach churn. Zevlor was worried that he was somehow cheating on Rolan in his wistful reminiscing on his prior swain. He worried that he was trying to replace Kanon with Rolan. He worried that his previous feelings for Kanon were preventing him from fully loving Rolan in the way that the man deserved to be loved— wholly and without question.

Compounding his guilt, Zevlor hadn't told Rolan about Kanon— but there wasn't really anything to tell. He hadn't been in a romantic relationship Kanon. In truth they were nothing more than friendly acquaintances... But there was an undeniable mutual attraction between them, and they'd been getting closer. Their relationship had just begun to blossom into something more when Kanon was killed.

Unfathomable remorse filled the old Hellrider. Kanon should have never been on the ramparts with him, but he was because he and Zevlor were flirting. Gods damn it, the man didn't even have any armor on! How could Zevlor have allowed himself to be so negligent in his duties!? If Zevlor was even half the paladin that he thought he was in Elturel, then Kanon wouldn't have died on that wall.

Despite his best efforts, Zevlor often found himself ruminating over his actions on that fateful day.

As soon as Zevlor had spotted the goblins nearing the Grove he yelled out an order to open the gate— he had directed the order to Akra, who had armor on, but Kanon was closer to the windlass— and so he took it upon himself to try to save Aradin's sorry backside from certain demise.

Zevlor saw the goblins nocking their arrows, he should've realized that a man who was a tailor by trade wouldn't have the reaction time of a trained soldier. But instead of diving on top of Kanon to shield him from the incoming volley of arrows, Zevlor had crouched down and covered his own hide because he (incorrectly) assumed that Kanon would also duck for cover.

Helm's unsleeping eyes, he remembered Kanon's death in perfect, agonizing, detail. The horrid sound the young man had made when the first arrow struck him. The sickening squelch as it effortlessly pierced his unarmored flesh.

Kanon may have been able to survive the initial arrow, had the second arrow not struck true by slotting between his ribs and piercing his heart.

The anguished wail that Kanon's sister, Akra, emitted upon seeing her brother's demise haunted Zevlor in his dreams.

Zevlor's night terrors had been intensifying as of late. His nightmares had started to combine the horrors he experienced in Avernus with how he had failed his kinsfolk in the Shadowlands.

In his dreams the refugee tieflings were being slaughtered by demons while he dispassionately stood by, watching as their souls were dammed to perdition in the hells.

The felled tieflings surrounded him, and the only thing louder than their wails of pain and terror were their loathsome screeches of blame and anger. They demanded to know why he had let them die when he had promised to protect them. They castigated him for his cowardice. They lambasted him for his audacity in thinking that he deserved happiness. He didn't.

Other nightmares solely featured Kanon. His bloated and decaying corpse loomed over Zevlor as blood poured from his mouth while he stared accusingly at him with his dead, hate filled eyes. Kanon didn't need to say anything for Zevlor to know that he was angry with him for idlily standing by as his sister was murdered, to know that the young man (correctly) blamed him for their deaths.

And then a familiar sneer would twist Kanon's reddening face until it morphed into Rolan's unmarred visage.

"How long until you cause my death?" Rolan pointedly asked Zevlor as his face began to decay, sloughing off in grotesque chunks as 10,000 tormented voices emanated all at once from Rolan's rotting mouth when he accusingly screamed at Zevlor. "ł'₥ ₲Øł₦₲ ₮Ø ĐłɆ ฿Ɇ₵₳Ʉ₴Ɇ Ø₣ ɎØɄ!"

"NO!" Zevlor yelled as he shot up from bed. He couldn't breath, he couldn't seen anything other than the static that filled his vision. His ears were ringing so loudly that he couldn't hear anything else.

He was dead. He was dead and he was dammed to relive his failures over and over again for the rest of eternity. He had never actually escaped the hells. Tav hadn't rescued him from the mind flayer pod at Moonrise Towers. He was dead. He was-

A gentle wave of calm washed over the old Hellrider. He could suddenly breath again as the ringing in his ears quieted and the world around him came into focus. Rolan was in front of him, saying soothing words to him.

"He looks worried." Zevlor distantly thought.

"Just focus on my voice Zevlor. Good. We're going to breath together now, follow my lead." Rolan instructed him.

"Breath in." Rolan inhaled as Zevlor copied him. "And breath out."

They repeated the breathing exercise several times until Zevlor had fully returned to his body.

The former commander was drenched in sweat, his skin was clammy and cold. Zevlor's whole body was shaking from the aftershocks of his night terror.

It wasn't until Rolan carefully wiped the tears from his face that Zevlor realized he was silently crying.

A sudden, wretched sob erupted from the very depths of Zevlor's soul. Years of repressed emotions spilled forth from, unfettered by shame or pride.

Rolan held him tight. It felt as though his love was the only thing holding Zevlor together as he was soothingly rocked in the mages arms.

Zevlor must have fallen asleep— as an indeterminate amount of time later he was gently roused from his slumber by Rolan, who handed him some water and softly ordered the old soldier "Drink."

Zevlor nodded in both acquiescence and a gesture of gratitude as he silently accepted the cool glass of water from the other man. He hadn't realized how parched he was until he started drinking. It took more restraint than he'd like to admit to swallow the refreshing liquid at a moderate pace instead of desperately chugging it.

When Zevlor was done drinking he handed the glass back to Rolan, who put it on the nightstand.

"You didn't put a coaster under it." He told Rolan.

"What?" Rolan asked.

"The glass," Zevlor said as he pointed to the offending object "you didn't put it on a coaster, it'll leave a mark if you leave it like that."

Rolan's face skewed in... confusion? Incredulity? Bewilderment?

"I know that you don't like water rings on the furniture, that's why I pointed it out." Zevlor lamely added, fearing he had offended his romantic partner.

"Zevlor, dear," Rolan said slowly, as though he was speaking to Minsc someone whose mental faculties were chronically understaffed. "I don't give a cranium rat's ass about potential condensation rings right now, I am worried about you." Rolan replied in baffled, albeit fond, exasperation.

"You are?" Zevlor asked.

"Yes." Rolan answered while looking at Zevlor as though he'd grown another horn. "I woke to you thrashing around in your sleep from terrible night terrors, I tried to wake you but I was unable rouse you. Then you suddenly bolted upright while screaming in a terror-stricken, anguished voice."

Rolan took a deep, steadying breath before he continued.

"You were nonsensical, saying that you were dead and being tormented in the hells or that you were still trapped in a mind flayer pod. Your eyes were open but they weren't seeing." Rolan shakily told him.

"Oh." Was all Zevlor could think to respond.

"I couldn't get though to you, so I used Calm Emotions on you in the hopes that it would free you from wherever your mind had you trapped. I'm sorry I used my magic to to control your emotions, but I didn't know how else to help you." Rolan said.

It was Zevlor's turn to look at Rolan as though he had grown another horn.

"Why are you apologizing?" Zevlor asked, but continued to talk before Rolan could reply.

"You pulled me out of a very unpleasant place. You shouldn't be apologizing, I should be thanking you." He said as he gently thumbed Rolan's bottom lip, stopping him from worrying it between his teeth.

"I..." Rolan started, uncharacteristically hesitant. "I used a spell to control you, to control your emotions, without your consent." He said.

"I was hardly in a place where I could consent Rolan." Zevlor dismissively replied, then, upon seeing guilt fill Rolan's eyes, quickly added "But I am glad that you did! Your spell helped me immensely!"

When Rolan responded it was with carefully chosen words, though whether they were purely for Zevlor's benefit, or if they were a byproduct of Rolan working though his own emotions, was hard to say.

"You've told me some of what happened in the Shadowlands. I was... concerned that my actions may have been similar to, or reminded you of... the time when you were nonconsensually controlled by the elder brain."

Zevlor blinked in surprise, and even as the familiar feelings of guilt and remorse bubbled up from the pit of his stomach, the warmth that filled him from the younger man's tender concern caused Zevlor to softly smile.

"I promise you, the circumstances here are very different from... that instance." Zevlor said, causing a small grimace to flash across both of their faces.

"I don't feel as though you violated my autonomy." Zevlor resolutely told Rolan, as he leaned forward and placed a tender kiss between his pinched brows.

Rolan sighed with palpable relief, his face smoothing.

"Do you want to talk about your night terrors?" Rolan asked.

Zevlor sighed as he responded, "Not particularly, but I probably should."

Rolan kissed the old Hellrider's forehead and then told him "Take all the time you need love." as he intertwined his and Zevlor's tails together.

After a few minutes of gathering his thoughts, and his courage, Zevlor began to tell Rolan about his nightmares. The younger man listened attentively, holding Zevlor's hand all the while.

"Before I continue relaying the contents of my nightmare, there is something you should know. Someone that I haven't told you about yet." Zevlor cautiously said.

After Rolan nodded in acknowledgment, Zevlor began to tell him of his and Kanon's not-quite-relationship.

"You remember Kanon, yes?" Zevlor asked, continuing after Rolan nodded, "Well he and I... We... We weren't together, but..."

Zevlor trailed off, his courage leaving him as his self doubt began to overwhelm him.

"Zevlor, are you trying to tell me about how you and Kanon danced around each other as you both obliviously, and obviously, pined for one another?" Rolan asked with a bit of amusement slipping into his voice despite his efforts to rein it in.

Zevlor's eyes were as wide saucers when he asked "You already knew!?"

Rolan let his smile slip as he answered "Zevlor, everyone knew. It was painfully obvious that you two had alchemy with each other. I'm fairly certain that Mol's gang were running a betting ring on when you two would finally start dating."

Embarrassed, Zevlor indignantly asked "And no one said anything!?"

"No." Rolan shrugged. "There wasn't much entertainment to be had on the road. Of course I didn't partake in such jejune activities. But I knew of your feelings for him, and his for you. I think everyone except you two knew."

Zevlor stared at Rolan as though he had just told him that the sky was lime green.

"You knew that I had romantic feelings for Kanon?" He asked, needing to clarify what he had just heard.

Rolan looked at Zevlor with a mixture of sympathy and tenderness. "Yes Zevlor, I knew."

"It... it doesn't bother you?" Zevlor hesitantly asked.

"No, Zevlor. It doesn't bother me." Rolan reassured him.

The floodgates opened once more as Zevlor began sobbing.

He told Rolan of what had happened that day. How he blamed himself for Kanon's death. How he was worried that he was using Rolan as a replacement. How he sometimes saw Kanon when he looked at Rolan.

Zevlor came clean about everything. His fears, his doubts, his regrets. How he didn't think he deserved to be happy when he was the reason so many had died.

And Rolan listened without judgement. At times he looked shocked, or angry at the circumstances life had put Zevlor in, or sadness for what he had lost— but he was never resentful.

Eventually Zevlor had confessed everything he'd been hiding from Rolan to him. Despite feeling exhausted Zevlor felt lighter than he had in a very long time.

But of course the reprieve from his self-flagellation only lasted for a few moments.

As Zevlor's senses returned to him so too did his shame. He was a commander of the Hellriders, damnit. How could he be so weak?

HIs self-loathing was unceremoniously interrupted when Rolan none-too-gently flicked his forehead.

"Stop that." Rolan firmly told him.

Zevlor did not pout as he snuggled closer, embarrassed at having been called out for his self-denigration— causing the mage to quietly chuckle and kiss Zevlor's forehead in apology.

"I've covered you with my snot and tears." Zevlor pointed out.

Rolan's voice betrayed his disgust, "I am aware."

Zevlor snickered at Rolan's disgruntled tone.

And by the next morning all traces of Zevlor's bodily secretions had been magicked away.

Zevlor woke to the smell of freshly brewed coffee.

"About time you've woken up, you slugabed." Rolan lovingly teased.

Zevlor hid his smile underneath the blanket as he replied "You young people these days, so disrespectful to your elders."

Rolan made a noncommittal noise as he drank his coffee.

"Mmm, I am very disrespectful— so disrespectful that I graciously brought you a fresh cup of coffee to lazily enjoy in bed." he said good naturedly.

The promise of caffeine inspired Zevlor to fully wake up.

Rolan tittered as he handed the now awake Hellrider his coffee.

Their eyes locked as Zevlor accepted the warm cup from him. The adoring look Rolan gave him soothed his soul in a way that words could not.

He knew that they were okay. They'd probably discuss what he'd revealed the night before, but they would be okay.

They were more than okay. They were good.

Life was good, and it was going to get even better.

[elmundodeflor]

Acuarelas - PARTE 1

Nunca había soñado con Hanji. Onyankopon solía decir que, las personas que se hacen bruma, en el inconsciente se vuelven carne. Y que allí, rebrotando de entre las grietas como margaritas, nos reencontramos. Que vienen a dejarnos un mensaje.

Le parecía injusto, entonces, que Hanji aún no se le hubiera aparecido, ni siquiera para saludarlo de lejos. Que sólo hubiese podido recordarla en pesadillas.

A veces la veía, cubierta en llamaradas rojas, cayendo y cayendo en un infinito del que no podía salvarla. El cielo azul se teñía de gris, empapado por el rastro de humo que dejaba su cuerpo, y él estiraba la mano, inútilmente, por las ventanillas del avión, como si eso sólo hubiera alcanzado.

Había otras noches, las más terribles, en las que las muertes se suscitaban: una tras otra, otra tras una. Las escenas se repetían, — como si de un ciclo eterno se tratase. Como si cada átomo de imagen hubiese quedado grabado tras las retinas, y al caer dormido alguien palpara esos rincones del alma que todavía ardían. Podía escuchar los desgarros de dolor en los tímpanos, los pedidos de auxilio estrujándole el corazón. Él también gritaba, lloraba, hacía fuerzas para respirar, pero los sonidos se le atascaban en las cuerdas vocales. Sólo salían en sollozos recortados cuando despertaba en su habitación.

–Ey. – Onyankopon lo sacude ahora, cuidadoso de no sobresaltarlo. Solía dormir en el cuarto de al lado, por si los alaridos y el sufrimiento se volvían demasiado, y hacía falta atenderlos o calmarlos.

Levi se restriega los ojos, y reconoce la humedad en sus mejillas de inmediato. Las lágrimas se desdibujan hasta las comisuras de sus labios, allí donde se pierden, como el cauce del río que desemboca en el mar.

–Mierda. – escupe entre dientes, y se estira para tomar del vaso de agua en su mesa de luz. – Es ese sueño de nuevo.

Onyankopon asiente. Ya lo sabe. En los tres años que lleva viviendo con Levi, ha llegado a conocerlo como quien conoce a su hermano. Está seguro de que el té le gusta a secas; sin azúcar, sin miel, a lo sumo con limón. Está al tanto, también, de cómo limpiar para no llevarse un coscorrón.

–Es Hanji, ¿no? – pregunta, aunque ya se ve venir la respuesta, y Levi no se lo dice. Esta vez, la tomaba de las mangas para tratar de detenerla. Y entonces, justo cuando creía que iba a hacerlo, que por fin iba a cambiar ese desenlace fatídico, atravesaba la tela de su camisa como si fuera aire.

–Llegué muy tarde. – susurra, casi inaudible. Tiene los músculos tiesos, entumecidos de la angustia. La mirada inconexa, perdida en algún punto del empapelado en la pared. Afuera, cerca de la playa, una tormenta repiquetea en las ventanas, salpica los vidrios con motas gordas.

–Tranquilo. – le asegura Onyankopon, sonriéndole desde la silla de junto al colchón. Registra, porque siempre ha sido un hombre de percepción, que las pesadillas florecen más en los días de lluvia; casi con la misma fuerza con la que suelen alzarse los tallos de entre la tierra. Se convence, porque otra opción no le queda, que los truenos deben de recordarle a Levi, tanto como le recuerdan a él, a los estruendos horrorosos de ese día. Tiene sentido, al fin y al cabo, se explica. Cada estallido es la pisada de otro titán que se acerca. Cada crujir, es el último suspiro de un alma nueva. – Vayamos a la cocina.

Levi lo contempla un segundo, sin ánimos de hablar o moverse. Todavía puede sentir a Hanji; diluyéndose a cuentagotas de entre sus dedos. Piensa que, si estuviera aquí, ella sabría qué hacer para apaciguar sus miedos. Adormecería los gritos con caricias suaves; le besaría el pelo, la frente, el espacio entre las cejas, y lo arrullaría con dulzura. Lo arroparía, firme entre sus brazos, y recitaría palabras de cuna para hacerlo soñar bonito.

–Está bien. – suspira, entonces, y, como puede, se incorpora sobre la cama. Lo cierto es que le duelen los huesos, aún lastimados por los años. Que le duele el pecho. Que le duelen ausencias. Que le duele todo. – Ya sabes dónde está el té.

Los viernes, Jean viene a casa a visitarlo. A veces, Armin es quien lo acompaña; otras son Connie, o Pieck, o Reiner.

Onyankopon prepara una merienda abundante para dos; bizcochos de avena y limón con un té apenas dulce. También se ocupa de dejar bien cortado el césped del patio; justo allí donde ambos se sientan a pintar por un rato.

Hace ya dos años que Jean enseña a Levi lo que sea que sabe de arte. Al principio, había sido Moblit, hacía ya mucho tiempo atrás. Luego él, después de la guerra y por pedido suyo, había decidido seguir y tomar el mando.

Era naturalmente bueno para pintar, Levi, decía Jean. Había comenzado con bosquejos desprolijos en un cuaderno, cuando las reuniones de Erwin lo aburrían más de la cuenta. En cambio, ahora, las líneas finas y garabatos acababan por transformarse en retratos reconocibles y concretos que decoraban la casa. Mike, Isabel, Farlan, Kuchel, Petra; todos tenían algún lugar. Todos sonreían detrás de los marcos.

–Algún día tengo que enseñarle a pintar con acuarelas. – insiste Jean, mordiendo el dorso del pincel, casi pensativo, antes de volver a remojarlo.

Levi chasquea la lengua, y lo mira durante una fracción de segundo. Lleva meses insistiendo con que no lo traten con honoríficos, o de “usted”, por lo menos, pero, realmente, no va a ensañárselas con eso ahora. En su lienzo, la figura de Hanji vuelve a aparecerse de entre las sombras, y, cree, entonces, que eso requiere de toda su atención. Incluso más que como puedan llamarlo o no los niños.

–De acuerdo. – acepta, al fin y al cabo, como quien no quiere la cosa, y su pincel se detiene un momento. Lo cierto es que la ha pintado ya demasiadas veces— más de las que uno es capaz de contar. Y es que tal vez Hanji no se le presente en sueños, pero puede verla en cada parpadeo, grabarla en cada exhalación y latido. Está igual de bella que cuando la perdió; allí, enmascarada en témperas. Tiene el cabello desprolijo, arremolinado en el viento. Su boca está torcida en una sonrisa a medias que apenas le achina los ojos.

Si quisiera, piensa, podría pintarla, también, incluso hasta con la vista ciega. Siendo sincero, la ha inmortalizado ya en su memoria demasiadas noches, cuando aún podía dormir a su lado. Sus manos, las yemas de sus dedos, han recorrido cada uno de sus recovecos; suave, cuidadosamente. Han atrapado bajo sus palmas el lunar junto a sus labios, — la expresión en sus pupilas—, cada minucioso retazo de ella.

–Dicen que pintar con acuarelas, es aprender el arte de dejar ir. – cuenta Jean, después de un rato en silencio. Afuera, en el claro en el jardín, la brisa cálida remueve las hojas de los árboles en un arrullo suave. Permite que el sol atraviese las copas verdes y frondosas, y los envuelva en un manto de ocres y dorados. – Creo que podría hacerle mucho bien, ¿sabe, Capitán?

Levi inspira hondo un segundo. No está muy seguro de quién pudo haber dicho eso, o con qué motivo habría sido, pero no va a ponerse a discutirlo ahora. Cuando comenzó a pintar, acababa de subir a la superficie, luego de años de ser preso de los subsuelos. Flores, las tazas bellas que veía en el mercado, había descubierto que, dibujando, comprendía mucho mejor el mundo que lo rodeaba. Que podía volver inmortal todo aquello que hiciera que su corazón saltara de alegría.

Los retratos llegaron después, con el correr de los meses, o de los años. Por alguna razón, Hanji era quien más se le desparramaba de entre las manos y volcaba en el papel. Había algo espontáneo en ella, — algo fugaz y efímero— que lo hacía querer pintarla, casi de manera inevitable. Tal vez, piensa ahora, era su risa. Alocada, terca, suelta y rebelde. Tal vez, también, era su esencia, — algo salvaje y arrollador, imposible de capturar por mucho tiempo.

Se echa hacia atrás, y, con nostalgia, contempla su trabajo casi terminado en el lienzo. Ahora que la ve, un sentimiento parecido a la angustia le hace agujeros en el pecho, — se le instala en el medio del corazón. Quisiera, por un momento nada más, que pintarla no le trajera este sufrimiento agigantado. Que tenerla de vuelta, aunque sólo fuera en recuerdos, lo hiciera sonreír, y no lo llenara de culpas pesadas, o de miedos infundados.

–Está bien. – contesta, entonces, y Jean lo mira esperanzado. Tiene que admitir que siente a Hanji en la frescura de las olas; entusiastas, e indomables. Que la ve en los cielos morados, o que puede acariciarla en el vaivén de los vientos. Lo que no puede, porque el alma aún le arde, es mencionarla delante de Gabi o de Falco. Soñarla sin despertar empapado de sudor.

“Pintar con acuarelas, es aprender el arte de dejar ir.”, las palabras de Jean resuenan en su cabeza, y se vuelve a verlo, alejándose del cuadro. Quiere que pensar en Hanji no lo ahogue en un dolor venenoso, que lo corroa por dentro. Que las pesadillas punzantes sean fantasías de algodón, livianas, en las que se reencuentran y pueden abrazarse de nuevo.

–Está bien. – repite, con la voz algo ronca, y Jean le sonríe. – Enséñame a pintar con acuarelas.

[milkfroggo]

(late) day 27 of OC-tober: fears

Mako has pyrophobia! Lore explanation and breakdown of the art under cut :]

Tw: burning, mentions of gore, jail, and fire (sorry if I missed anything)

Mako is by far the most traumatized of my OCs. When they we're about to graduate their magic school their best friend beforehand manipulated Mako's magic to benefit themselves.

Due to the dislike of (blood) magic Mako was falsely imprisoned for harming others. They had a lengthy stay ahead of themselves but, via an attack from an village near the prison it was set on fire. This is both the reason they escaped and are afraid of fire.

Mako overall wasn't severely injured but, the metal muzzle (they have sharp shark teeth) and handcuffs burned into their skin leaving both trauma and scars (this is the cause of the scars around Mako's mouth, alot the parts holding the mask on are a strong leather). Alot of the fear of seeing others flee and get scorched just by grasping at burning hot iron cages stays with Mako because, while they got away fairly easy they still had to watch knowing that most would not escape, and if they tried to help they would meet a far worse fate then if they didn't.

ANYWAYS ART BREAKDOWN

What's what

The parts where the fire is in front of Mako show their past self in a brownish prison uniform with a iron mask and handcuffs that have chains melting off of the handcuffs.

The non fire covered parts show present day mako in a black button up under a red vest and cummerbund (?) with burgundy pants.

Design choices

The muzzle/ mask is due to Mako's sharp teeth and is ment to resemble one of those caged oven things (think what gigantamax coalossal from Pokemon has on its belly).

The prison uniform is pretty simple, a brown cheap cloth sewn into shorts and a button up shirt.

Those big cuffs have the chain melting off showing how Mako got free and the intensity of the moment.

[oh-my-bindery]

To this day I believe wholeheartedly that JKR decided not to write Draco switching sides when offered by Dumbledore or asking Snape to help him switch sides, because she knew she’d write Draco and Harry falling in love with each other (intentionally/unintentionally). She would have a hard time writing them as the characters she created for them and not having feelings of care and understanding for each other. It would be simply impossible unless she obliviated them both lol.

[mywingsareonwheels]

1974.

Morse is interviewing witnesses to a murder at one of the colleges, and one of them is strikingly familiar. He's a man in his early twenties, a recent medical graduate back visiting friends before heading off to move into a totally different career. He has a posh accent, a friendly smile, warm brown eyes.

Oh he's truly, desperately familiar, and Morse isn't looking too hard into his own motives when he lets the younger man talk him into a drink out, and then a one-night stand, and then something rather more like a friendship played out over Scotch and crosswords and literary quotations.

[More behind the cut....]

He does mention, briefly, that his new friend reminded him of someone else on first meeting. And somehow that turns into a discussion of ancestry, and the young man discusses with some glee the skeleton in his family cupboard: the fact that his paternal grandmother when barely eighteen had a dalliance with a working-class ruffian of the same age from Mile End, of all places. That she'd got pregnant, but her parents wouldn't let her tell the lad, but instead got her engaged to a somewhat stuffy friend of theirs called Richardson.

"Dad hates to talk about it," says Morse's friend, "he's rather a stuffed shirt, especially for a surgeon. But Granny used to love telling me stories. She did come to love my Granddad, I think, but she missed that boy from Mile End all her life." He chuckles, but a little shakily, because he has yet to learn the effortless-seeming confidence he'll spread before him one day. "I'd give anything to meet him."

Morse swallows, heart suddenly in his mouth. And something in his face makes the young man carry on, more intensely.

"Granny told me that she named Dad after him, though he doesn't know. So that's what I have: Frederick, from Mile End. Fathered a child around 1930 when he was just a lad and doesn't even know he did." He laughs, wryly. "Not much to go on, is it."

"Douglas," says Morse, and his voice is shaking but there's a smile in his eyes. "I... I'll need to look into this, but I think. I mean. I think I can help."

The postcard is of York Minster, which is only a half hour drive from where three exiles from Oxford have settled. On the back it reads just:

"Sir,

Un bel di, please could we talk? There's someone I think you should meet. Bring 2 rounds ham and tomato sandwiches. --"

At the day and time thus ordered, Fred Thursday finds Morse standing admiring the rose window, and follows him out to a bench in the Minster gardens. He's torn between confusion and shame, though above all trying to hide how overjoyed he is to see the rusty curls and those haughty, sea-green eyes again. When Morse explains, and introduces the young trainee pilot with a face Fred remembers from his mirror as a long-lost grandson... well, it's good he's already sitting down, is all.

The years past, and they are gentler than they might have been.

Fred lives to see his grandson a captain, to meet his great-granddaughter. To introduce his grandson to his uncle and step-grandmother and eventually even his aunt. To become friends with Morse again, even if quietly, and for the most part only by letter. To relish that Douglas and Morse, despite occasionally enraging each other beyond reason, seem to be friends for life. (He suspects that they might once have been more than that; if they aren't going to tell him though, he's not going to point it out.) Something healed in him that day in York, and it never breaks again.

When Captain Douglas Richardson puts down the bottle, in an attempt to salvage something of his career and his relationship with his daughter, perhaps it's partly because he's still grieving for his grandfather, dead some ten years now, but most of all because he's still grieving for his friend and one-time lover, and doesn't want to die so young himself.

When First Officer Douglas Richardson meets his new captain at MJN's portacabin in Fitton, he's a little strikingly familiar too. He's shorter, and more pompous, and vastly less good at word games, but there are rusty curls and haughty sea-green eyes.

He's no relation of Morse's at all though, it turns out. This is, eventually, rather a relief.