#my reflexes are not on point

[alcoholicweiwuxian]

bestiessssss <3

click for better quality; tumblr eats lines

[mint-is-here]

Posting this because it's not getting out of my head-

OK SO some months ago, i saw a post pointing out how Wukong seems to have a thing with bows and ribbons, since almost all of his outfits include them in some way.

So i decided to look into it.

Yeah, this guy does love bows.

The only times i could find that he DIDN'T use any ribbons or bows was when he was possessed by LBD and, weirdly enough, in The King, The Prince And The Shadow.

(There are also two flashback scenes in the s4 special where he doesnt use bows, but I'm not counting them since it was REALLY at the start of Wukong's life and he probably didn't even know what a bow was. There might be more but I don't remember them.)

Now this is all cool and stuff(i genuinely think this is cool), but I noticed something in Season 4's brotherhood flashbacks.

As you can see, the other members of The Brotherhood may use scarfs and similar piece of clothing, but no one else really uses any sort of ribbons like Wukong does.

...that is, no one...

...Except Macaque. The person who Wukong seemed to be the closest to before the Journey started.

Guess who stopped using bows after their friendship turned bitter and the ties(hah) on their relationship were cut?

[thatswhatsushesaid]

how dare you diminish jin guangshan's contribution to the narrative. what is wrong with you. have you no shame

[fruchtfleisch-art]

kirashino in killer queen's pov

You know what, I almost didn't do this one, thinking I had nothing interesting to say, but it turned out to be the microfic I had the most fun writing. Fittingly, this is also going to be the last microfic for this round! Thanks so much to everyone who sent in suggestions. I'm going to get back to editing some longer stuff, and hopefully posting more art soon! ---

This is the way of things. First there was one: Kira. Then another: Killer Queen.

Kira is a man with a man’s heart, a man’s appetites, a man’s joys and sorrows and petty tantrums. He keeps a house, goes to work, eats and sleeps and shits and talks sweetly to people he would happily feed feet first into a wood chipper. When his urges bubble up, hissing and spitting like hot milk over the lip of a sauce pan, that is when Killer Queen comes forward.

Killer Queen is a tool. Since it first emerged from Kira some fifteen-odd years ago, it has not changed in any fundamental way: smooth, vaguely feline in form, adorned in skulls and samurai swords, symbols it does not comprehend the full meaning of.

Killer Queen’s primary task is of separation. Separating body from person, limb from body, hand from limb, all without damaging them too much. And when Kira is finished with these disparate parts, when they begin to leak and sweat and stink of corruption, Killer Queen devours them, leaving nothing behind. That is what it does.

There are exceptions, of course, times when Killer Queen is needed for other purposes. The destruction of the snotty-nosed child whose stand swarmed them like fleas. The schoolboy who had pinned Sheer Heart Attack in place, but more importantly, stung Kira with his words, sending Killer Queen lashing out, cat-quick. Kira himself, forcing Killer Queen’s hand to sever his own, an action as painful as forcing blood to pump backwards.

Sometimes, rarely, when Kira is sunk deep into the dark well of a dream, Killer Queen is called forth for no apparent purpose at all.

It is theorized by some that deep in the mazelike folds of the brain, neurons fire almost at random, tiny messengers ignorant of the messages they carry. These cells have no comprehension of their importance, and yet the slightest scratch in cortex can render a man blind, deaf, or amnesiac, unable to remember what he had for breakfast or the face of his beloved grandmother. The world outside the body is not, a place of objective fact, but utter darkness, illuminated only by the scant and scattered efforts of a few million thready gray tendrils.

Such is the same with Killer Queen. It does not emerge because it wants to, but because it is called. The higher purpose behind the summons eludes it entirely. It does not perceive time away from the world as anything other than absence; it does not long to feel sunlight on its face, or to fight, or to kill.

Kira asks, Killer Queen answers. That’s the way of things.

On this night, Killer Queen hangs in the air like a haze, moonlight limning the pale curves and angles of its body. Its arms hang loosely at its sides. This is not Kira’s bedroom, but some other place, a place he has been spending most of his time in the last month or so. There is nothing to destroy in this room. Kira is-

a cat, a most beautiful tomcat with a silky soft coat, with lovely whiskers arranged just so, with eyes like deep blue pools, and he is cradled in the arms of a woman as she strokes his head, his cheeks, his chest. He does not understand what she is saying, but the words are soft, and when he nibbles on her finger she coos, delighted. Saliva wells from the corners of his mouth and dangles from his chin in long pearly strings.   

- deeply asleep, eyelids twitching. His face is different, but his habits are the same. His dreams are the same.

The woman, whose name does not matter, because she will be dead soon, is in the room too. She’s curled up like a pillbug next to Kira, face buried in the pillows. When he is awake, Kira wants very badly to strangle her, but he is not awake, so Killer Queen does nothing.

Outside, insects buzz and frogs peep. The dim orange light of the streetlamp flickers, throwing strange shadows over the sleepers. Devoid of intent, Killer Queen can only watch. Its unblinking eyes do not waver, its preternaturally muscular frame does not grow tired. Its focus is absolute.

It watches the woman stir and sit up, raise her arms in a stretch. It watches her leave the room, then come back with a glass of water. It watches her take a sip and place the glass on the nightstand, before sitting down on the side of the bed.

Kira sighs. The woman turns. She runs a hand through his hair, the movement slow and hesitant at first, until he shifts closer with a soft groan of contentment. His heart rate slows, his breathing steadies.

The woman says something to him, but it does not matter what, exactly, the words are. She sits and pets him, and gradually a soft noise begins to permeate the room, a noise only audible to the one person not awake to hear it. Kira-

knows her, this woman. This voice, this touch, the loose strand of reddish-brown hair tickling his fur, all are familiar. He stretches up to touch his nose to her nose, blinking at her, greeting her. His tiny pink tongue darts out to taste her. She laughs, and holds him close, and he feels content.

-is dead to the world, lost in his own private reverie.

The noise is like the idling engine of a well maintained motorcycle, or the deep-voiced treadle of an elephantine sewing machine, or the stuttering whirl and hum of a serpentine belt, spinning and spinning and spinning. It is like all of those things and none of those things.

Kira is the man, and Killer Queen is his tool, nothing more, nothing less. Nonetheless, tonight it purrs.

[why-rock-look-tasty-if-no-eat]

I've pulled myself out of my funk, and now I'm working on the second hal(ves)f of It's a Reflex! Since these past couple of months ate into my writing time I'm just going to be writing the chapters back-to-back, but I do need a little help on deciding on what the name for NW and RR's "Fistfight Vlad in Denny's Parking Lot" GC is going to be named. I'll put in what I've thought of in the poll below, but feel free to drop what you think of in the comments 💙

[theostrophywife]

pov: theo when I try to rizz him up with the most godawful pick up lines

are you my dinner? cause i’d like a mouthful of your pennes

[saintlevrant]

Damn a Mercedes, Audi, Bentley, Rolls, Ferrari, Lambo, BMW, and all them overcompensating ass cars.

I'm tryna get fucked in Lev's black Volkswagen Arteon.

[vitactree]

I wanted to share this article as soon as I read it. It just...strikes my soul. I don't feel like articulating my thoughts further. It's just a really good read, true, and I like it a lot.

[smaller-comfort]

Oooh tell me about Obyron/Zahndrekh for the wip asks pls pls pls I crave more of the old married couple 🙏

Ahaha well, they're not quite married in this one. I talked a bit about how I'm trying to characterize Zahndrekh over here; if anything, Zahndrekh probably spends a not-insignificant part of the story in the background wanting to propose marriage to Setekh...which, thankfully, he does not do.

I will freely admit that I feel wildly out of my depth with this story! The first part needs to hit a bunch of key moments at Yama (battles! feasts! assassination attempts!), and I've probably bitten off more than I can chew. My track record with even mildly ambitious projects is terrible. (And please understand that my idea of an 'ambitious project' is like. 10k words and more than 3 chapters. Or a series with more than 2 parts.)

The second part, however, is really just porn, and apart from one reference to a specific scene in part 1, it can probably stand on its own. So, if nothing else, I will hopefully be able to finish that, and everyone can just use their imagination when it comes to the stuff that is beyond my ability to write/finish.

Anyway. Here's a snippet from part 2, right before clothes start hitting the floor.

---

“My lord- I shouldn't-” he swallowed. He didn't want to leave. He had to leave- he'd already committed at least three unforgivable breaches of decorum simply by standing here. Whatever happened next- and he could imagine with aching clarity what was going to happen next- would be a step too far. “Please permit me to return to the quartermaster.”

Zahndrekh looked up, and their eyes met for a brief moment before Obyron lowered his gaze again. Zahndrekh's hand was still on his collar.

“Permission granted,” Zahndrekh said softly. “If you must go, then…so be it. You may go, and I won't ask this of you again.” The palm of his hand was soft and warm against Obyron's cheek, and the sudden contact made both of them startle, slightly. “Whatever you decide, nothing will change, I swear it.”

That was lie, he knew, but Obyron found he appreciated it all the same. “My lord.” He was being offered a choice. It was too much, with Zahndrekh standing so close and his hand on Obyron's face. “Please…order me to stay.”

Zahndrekh's voice was uncharacteristically rough. “Stay with me, Obyron.”

He met Zahndrekh's eyes again, and now he could see the way his nemesor's face was flushed slightly, and the way his eyes were wide and his pupils were dilated. It was never a choice, not really; there was no universe where Obyron would have walked away from Zahndrekh like this.

But it was easier to have an order to follow, regardless. “Yes, my lord.”

[nabaath-areng]

It's been so long since the last time I hallucinated that I forget how jumpy and skittish I get afterwards guhhhh

[look-at-the-stars-tonight]

the amount of effort that goes into figuring out what to cook and eat every day is RIDICULOUS. i used to think people were so weird and boring for eating the same thing every single day but it truly does make life so much easier

[fatedroses]

Tsukiko is so cool 🥺 I love seeing her in your comics. I did notice that sometimes she has horns, and sometimes she doesn't. Are they hiding in her hair? Or is there a backstory/lore moment where they get damaged/she loses them?

First of all, thank you! I always love hearing people enjoy my silly little lizard woman <3

Secondly, I'm actually in the process of redrawing (and... actually continuing the story -v-') of some of those older comics, especially now that I've fleshed out her backstory more than I had back when I made them.

But yes, she lost her horns- to her own mother, actually. They were basically snapped/burned off in a confrontation between them when Tsu was a lot younger, and it's why she covers it with her hair (and, ironically, her mother does the same with the eye Tsu took in retaliation).

Her adoptive father (Rusticus Lunae/Regent/Atticus' weirdo wolf voidsent) had tried to heal most of the damage she had sustained, but Tsu herself reacts pretty negatively to getting healed, and its resulted in her horns never being able to grow back and the segmented scale pattern she has on her back.

[trans-cuchulainn]

literally how am i meant to have good nutrition if every single pre-prepared meal is unsafe for me and i live alone so food just goes off in the fridge before i finish it and i'm too fatigued for big meal prep and my kitchen is tiny and there are no more goddamn sources of protein i can put in my diet

[kamil-a]

jokes rly are like the one social scenario where youre meant to automatically interpret someones "ughhh eyeroll" "stop it" "youre being mean to me" "i hate you" etc as "keep going that was funny" purely on tone and situation. its an odd social dance. obviously i think the solution is everyone does their best to learn the steps to this dance and im not saying that we need to ABOLISH eyerolling at a pun i just think its wild that like No One is like hey no yeah that IS a weird social expectation that goes counter to like 90% of other social expectations

[unopenablebox]

apparently yelling at your parents for posting a bunch of reactionary shit on facebook about how the student protestors are all pathetic snowflakes because they eat gluten-free food and have blue hair and pronouns actually works sometimes? which is good. but oh my god