#so far i have this beautiful monkey man at least

[kkking]

a bit too late for tye event as always, but still

the first thought i got when i saw the monkey Chikage was ears.

the second thought (when i saw the beautiful yellow clothes) was banana peel.

either way i love his design to bits💛

[aliteralsemicolon]

Yours - 18+

Masterlist

Spencer never thought he’d be lucky enough to find you, but he has. You have all his devotion and all he hopes for in return is for you to let him stay yours.

Spencer Reid x Fem! Reader

DISCLAIMER This story contains strong themes and detailed descriptions of adult content. It is intended for mature audiences only, minors do not interact!  You are responsible for the content you consume. Make sure to read all necessary warnings. Please remember this is a work of fiction; if you don’t like it, don’t read.

WARNING: Smut: softdom! Spencer, grinding, hickies, penetration, PinV, unprotected sex (this can lead to babies & stds btw, avoid this by being fivehead and using a condom), creampie. Proceed at your own risk.

Word count: 5.3K See notes at end for authors note & spoilers.

The question regarding the existence of soulmates is not a question that can be answered using science. Any individual’s answer to the question is more of a personal belief than a factual answer. And as a man of science, one would think that Spencer Reid would at least attempt to refute the ideology when asked. 

The ideology that he himself is not whole, but only half of an intertwined soul. That another person is not only his other half, but also his better half. Somebody with whom he shares such a natural, deep understanding, that he feels complete simply by existing in their presence. It’s one of those phenomena he can’t explain, but only this one, he’s confident is true. 

“Spence?” A light nudge accompanied by the whisper of his name breaks him away from his thoughts.

“Hm?” He blinks rapidly, focusing his eyesight on your curious face with a matching look.

The light from a singular bedside lamp only reaches half of his face. It casts a beautiful, soft contrast on his sharp features. The gold that’s usually hidden by the brown makes his irises look like sparkling pools of honey. Ethereal -not a word you would use when normally describing a man- but that’s how he looks. 

“Do you believe in soulmates?” 

He hadn’t ever thought he could believe in such a thing. Mostly because he’d always been sure that he would never experience it. 

“Do you?” His voice carries your question back to you. 

You can hear the city buzzing outside. Cars honking angrily in a futile attempt to speed up the pace of the traffic. People conversing, arguing, laughing. Loud thuds of music from the upstairs neighbour who cares little about the piling noise complaints. Somehow, the hum of Spencer’s words is the only sound that your ears register. 

“I asked first.” You playfully scoff, breaking eye contact and swivelling your head straight.

Spencer mirrors your motions, both of you now facing the ceiling as you remain side by side on his bed. 

“Yes.” His answer is barely above a whisper. 

It seems that your bodies want to make up for lost contact. You can feel his pinky reaching out to touch yours as you meet him halfway. 

“Me too.” 

A comfortable silence takes over the conversation. Everything feels still. The only movement is that of his fingers grazing against yours. He’s touched you in far more personal places tonight alone, and this is still one of your most intimate moments. There are no expectations or hidden agendas. This is simply the two of you existing in each other's presence; his preferred way to exist. It stretches until another inane question makes its way to the forefront of your mind.

“Do you ever wonder if you’ll get to meet them in this lifetime?” 

He pushes his frame up and rotates to face you as he sinks back down to the mattress. His head rests on the arm folded below it. You turn your head back to him so that you’re both holding eye contact again. 

“No.” He mouths the answer, his voice hesitant to raise at first. “I wonder whether mine is a romantic bond or platonic.” 

Your stomach flutters at the insinuation and you shift to mirror his position this time. In the midst of shuffling, the two of you seem to have closed a good chunk of the distance between you. 

“What do you want it to be?” You whisper, entranced by his gaze. 

Two of his knuckles lightly skim your cheek before those fingers brush your hair away from you. The act alone is enough to make your face heat up, no matter how many times he’s done it before. He begins to lazily stroke your hair, scratching your head in the process. It gives you the same tingling sensation you get from some rare ASMR videos. 

You don’t follow up on your question, unable to remember anything that was on your mind beforehand. His touch, combined with the minimal lighting and close proximity provides you with a sense of security you rarely feel otherwise. Your lids begin to grow heavy and you're forced to break eye contact when the weight of them becomes too much. 

“That’s really distracting y’know.” You mumble, eyes closed and voice hazy. 

“I know.” He mutters, almost without sound. 

He can’t help his smile as he watches you drift to sleep. He’s studied every feature on your face at least a hundred times and he’s yet to find a single flaw. The fact that you’re okay with being this vulnerable with him is a privilege that he’ll thank any and every deity he doesn’t even believe in for. Faint snoring indicates that you’re now dead to the world, but he can’t let your previous question go unanswered. 

“Whichever one allows me to be yours forever.”

Waking up to the warmth of your body pressed against his is by no means a recent development in your relationship with Spencer. Your back is to his chest and his arm is draped across your stomach, trapping you against him. Not that you mind. You’ve been lying still as you are for almost a while now, your thumb caressing the side of his wrist. With a yawn nuzzled into your neck, Spencer attempts to pull you closer to him, closing distance that was never there to begin with. 

He can feel the rise and drop of your chest; you can feel the beating of his heart behind yours. Neither of you is fully awake yet, opting to enjoy the silence and comfort of the other's presence. Your bodies are so closely tangled that your skin is almost melding with each other. 

Almost. 

The unexpected brushing of his hardness against your ass sends a jolt of electricity passing through you, waking you up in an instant. If it were anybody else, perhaps you would’ve felt ashamed of how that passing moment made your insides jump. You definitely wouldn’t have arched your barely clothed cunt towards the obstruction. A sharp exhale fans across the back of your neck, and you can practically feel the corners of his lips pull into a lazy smirk. 

“Well, good morning.” A groggy voice leans into your ear and the grip on your belly tightens.

“Morning.” You breathe out, barely audible.

You feel yourself clench around nothing when a hot, sticky kiss lands just behind your ear. Your arch intensifies when another one lands below your jaw and you unintentionally grind against him. It earns you a low grunt from him, which only prompts you to repeat the motion without thinking. His head drops in the nook of your shoulder, taken slightly off guard. He meets you halfway the third time, and it sets both your hips in a slow motion of rubbing against each other.

He can hear you hum each time his confined erection strokes your bundle of nerves and it sparks a determination in him to get more out of you. His hand trails from your abdomen to your pelvis, stopping just at the band of your underwear. He tugs the fabric, not making any further moves until you allow him to. You know that if you don’t take control now he’s going to prolong his foreplay, something you don’t have the patience for right now. He always makes it a point to make you finish at least once before he even considers himself. 

Out of the four times you came the night before, three of them were with his head between your thighs. You can’t even count the number of times you’ve teased him about how he probably gets off on pleasing you more than you do. You surprise him when you grab his hand and push it away from you, swinging yourself around to straddle him. Your hands land on either side of his head and you lower your forehead to rest against his. 

“Nuh-uh!” You taunt and it makes him snort. 

His palms trace your sides, arms wrapping around you, pulling your torso down to him.

“You’re not allowed to touch me this time.” You add in a hushed tone.

“No?” His brows raise in amusement.

“No.” 

You barely breathe out the word when his arms drop from around you. A slight chill takes over the area.

“No!” You repeat in a whiny tone, pushing yourself to sit up. 

You’re looking down on him from this angle, and God, does he look beautiful. His fluffy, sleep-tousled hair frames his face beautifully, the faint light of the rising sun only adding to the sight. 

“That’s not what I mean and you know it!” 

“I don’t know. You need to be clearer with what you want.” He chuckles. 

“I want you to stop being a little shit.” You retort, reaching for his hands.

You attempt to settle them on your thighs, but he removes them again. 

“I’m not allowed to touch you. Remember?” He emphasises the word allowed on purpose.

Both of you know that he’s the only one allowed to touch you and vice versa. Even if it wasn't something you both agreed upon, you’d never let anybody else touch you like him. If they even knew how to.

“You can touch me.” You roll your eyes, pulling his hands back to your skin. “But you can’t fuck me with anything other than your dick.”

Your curt tone doesn’t surprise him. He’s used to your boldness. Using your hips, he pulls you down onto his bulge completely. You don’t anticipate the sudden friction and it takes everything in you to not topple over on him. Spencer wasn’t prepared for the impact of his actions either, his head lolling back as he hisses sharply. 

“Yeah?” He questions through half gritted teeth. 

He’s painfully hard and the current view isn’t helping. He can clearly make out the shape of your curves under your flimsy t-shirt. How it drapes on the apex of your breasts, how the hem pools just above your thighs. His grip tightens against the plush of your skin. 

“Mhm.” You breathe out, eyes fluttering as you keep your core pressed to him. 

“Words, sweet girl. Use your words.” His breathing is laboured and it’s taking all of his willpower to not rut his dick back up against you.

The praise breaks you. You can no longer hold yourself up, falling into his chest. 

“Please fuck me.” You can only whisper in his ear, sending chills down his spine. 

He groans, grabbing you by the waist and flipping both of you around so you’re the one lying on the bed. It seems that he’s become just as impatient as you, if not more. He captures your lips in a deep, demanding kiss as he tugs his boxers just enough for his length to spring free. His tongue swipes your lips, seeking entrance and you grant it to him. He finds your kisses addicting. It takes an incredible amount of willpower to break them, but he does, sitting up on his knees. 

He parts your legs, placing one on either side of him and yanking you closer to him. You squeak in response, not processing the action until your cores are once again pressed together. You sigh when he pushes your panties to the side and runs a finger up your slit. A satisfied hum escapes him when he learns just how aroused you are. You sigh when runs his tip against you next, lining himself up with your cunt and pushing just the tip inside. Each of his hands intertwine with yours as he moves them above your head. He then leans in and plants a feather-light kiss on your cheek. 

“Like this?” He whispers in your ear.

He pushes in a little more and pulls out just enough for him to stay lined.

“More!” You whine, breathlessly, brows furrowing from anticipation.

“Mhm.” He doesn’t properly acknowledge your desperation and instead latches onto the skin under your jaw, sucking gently. 

You sigh at the sensation, arching more as his shaft pushes in again. This time, he doesn’t stop until he’s completely bottomed out. You moan and squeeze his hands, still intertwined with yours above your head. You never expect how full he makes you feel. Spencer squeezes your hands in return, still reeling in from how well your cunt accommodates him. He takes a minute, resting himself inside you to allow time for both of you to adjust to the feeling. 

He releases your skin with a small pop and moves a new spot on your neck. You think about how you’re going to have to use concealer to hide the marks he’s surely leaving behind and it makes you clench around him. The effect on him is instantaneous, a harsh groan vibrating against your throat and he sucks harder. The sound only makes your walls tighten more and it cues him to start thrusting. 

The initial pace is slow, but calculated; the kind that makes your joints loosen and jaw slack. He takes the opportunity to capture your lips in another long and consuming kiss. A loud moan ripples out from both of you and your hands deepen their hold on each other. Spencer’s not shy about letting you hear how good you make him feel and that drives you insane. 

Your hands instinctively try to reach for his hair, but he’s pinned you down tight. You whine into his mouth, pressing your fingers between his knuckles. Your whine fizzles out into a series of smaller whines when his hips speed up, hitting that sweet spot with every thrust. 

“Mm–Spence–mmph–”

You try to break the kiss to speak, but he simply drops a quick kiss on your jaw before reclaiming his place against your lips. He’s too lost in the taste of you to pay full attention. It takes you a moment to find the willingness to try again, but you do. You arch your hips too high for him to be able to follow from this position, forcing him to slip out from you and try to remove your hands from his grip. His focus is brought back to you and he lifts himself back on his knees, releasing you. 

“What’s wrong? Have I hurt you?” 

“M-mm” You shake your head and push yourself up on your hands.

You then shift into his lap, draping your arms around his shoulders. He gives you a curious look, wrapping his arms around your waist. 

“I want to be able to hold you.” You admit with a slight shyness in your tone.

A light smile spreads across his face, brows arching in surprise. Being a genius and all, he’s always known he was needed in some way or another. You’re the first person who’s ever made him feel wanted, truly wanted. With no motive other than simply existing with him. It sparks a new desire, one you see light up behind his eyes. He leans into your lips, his hold on your waist tightening and he moves one arm to cradle the back of your head. 

You pull yourself flush against him, wrapping your arms around his neck as your tongues dance together once more. He lifts you up and places you back down against the mattress, mouth never leaving yours. You feel his palm raise one of your legs by the back of your knee and he’s entering you again. He rests that leg on his shoulder, while the other hangs by his waist and begins to build an unrelenting pace. 

You wail into his mouth at the intensity of his thrusts, eyes rolling behind closed eyes. It’s almost brutal, the way he’s slamming into you. Your hands desperately cling onto his bicep and shoulder, nails digging into the skin. His grunts and groans increase each time he gets deeper, if that’s even physically possible and it only makes you desperate for more. Your kiss breaks with a slight sting against Spencer’s lip. You didn’t realise how hard you were biting it in an attempt to stay grounded. 

There’s a shift in the atmosphere that you can’t explain. Even though Spencer was railing you so hard that even the bed had begun to cry out, there was an overwhelming sense of longing between you two. An ache to express how you belong to the other, hidden behind an uncouth sight. It’s compensation for those lack of words, a physical exchange expressing your biggest secret. He’s everywhere; your current position has you feeling Spencer in places you didn’t deem possible. 

His mouth works over whatever exposed skin it can access along your jaw and throat, leaving goosebumps and bruising stains in its wake. His cock is driving into you so fast that you swear it’s going to imprint on your walls. There’s a fire in you, one that only he can put out. Every inch of him can be felt within every inch of you. Now you’re truly melded with each other. 

“Fuck–oh my God!” You scream out, your nails digging harder into his flesh. 

He’s consuming all of your senses, at this moment you don’t know anything other than him. Eyes open or closed, all you can see is his sculpted face. You’re drowning in his scent. Melting at his touch. The taste of his kiss still lingers on your tongue. Your ears are flooded with the slaps of his skin meeting yours and your mixed moans and grunts. 

“Spen–fuck–gon–fu–cum!” 

He hasn’t even spared your ability to speak. With a short kiss, he brings his forehead back to rest on yours in a firm manner. 

“Me too, pretty girl.” He pants his sentence in broken pauses. “Me too.” 

He secures the leg on his shoulder from the back of your thigh and then brings the other leg on his other shoulder. It gives him room to drive himself deeper and makes you lose all control, every joint in your body threatening to fall limp. Your face contorts and you bite your lip, trying to control the flurry of screams. It results in high-pitched whines forcing their way out. 

“Spencer! I can’t–I can’t–I can’t” 

You can’t hold on any longer. 

“I know. I know.” There’s barely any voice accompanying his words. “We’ll do it together, okay? Where do you want me?”

“Inside–inside–ins-shitshitshit…” 

“Inside? Inside.” He struggles to keep himself together while talking you through it. “Ready?” 

You nod fervently and he steals one long, final kiss from you as he finally empties himself in your spent cunt. Your own orgasm crashes through in a long passing wave. You feel like you’re floating in the ocean with millions of stars as your only view for miles. He follows up with a few final thrusts, burying himself as far in you as possible. 

When you finally come to, Spencer’s pulled out and is lying right next to you. Peppering kisses over your face in intervals and muttering praises as strokes away hair glued to your face. 

“Did so well.”

“So good to me.”

“I’m so proud of you.”

For some reason, the water always feels nicer running down your body when you use Spencer’s shower. He’s a simple man; he doesn’t really have a lot of products to use besides the basic shampoo, conditioner, soap, and body wash. The exfoliators, masks and such were your initial additions that he keeps topping up after they run out. 

You haven’t said much since coming out of your euphoric state, only showing your gratitude and appreciation through small touches. Brushing a hand against his cheek, leaving a peck on his shoulder, wrapping your arms around him in a hug. He doesn’t mind your silence. It doesn’t deter him from showering you with praise while he looks after you. You’re so disorientated that you’re letting yourself be guided from one instruction to the next. 

“Lift your leg for me, sweet girl. Hand on my shoulder.” 

He helps you act out his command, grabbing your wrist and draping it on his shoulder while helping you lift your leg. His touch is tender, but he’s careful to cover every area with body wash. 

“Good girl.” 

You don’t physically react, but his approval makes you swell with pride. Sex is the least intimate part of your time with Spencer. What you really enjoy is how safe he makes you feel. You know that even if you show him your worst and ugliest moments, he won’t reject you. You trust him with parts of you that you barely trust yourself with. 

Anybody who’s touched your naked body before him doesn’t matter, because not one of them has gotten to touch it past the realm of physical pleasure. To you, the act of washing one’s body is so private, so sacred that it can’t be trusted with just anybody. How many are able to look past the lens of sexual release and view your skin and bones as something to cherish? Not even you can claim to view yourself in such a precious way. 

But Spencer does. 

Even as pats you dry and wraps you safely in a warm towel, he doesn’t demean your worth. They’d be thoughts he could easily keep hidden in the comfort of his own mind, but the thoughts simply don’t occur. You don’t realise how long the two of you are standing there, leaning into each other's arms against the counter. Nor do you realise how long it’s taken you to mentally return to him. The first thing you do notice is so trivial, it’s almost laughable. 

“You’re out of apple juice, by the way.” 

Even you’d laugh if you heard yourself bring up something so random.

“Do you want apple juice? We can go buy some more.” He replies in a quiet mumble.

In his presence, you can think such thoughts without the concern of being laughed at. 

“No, I’m not gonna make you go to the grocery store just for apple juice.” You shake your head, expression oozing sarcasm. 

“I need to buy a lot more than apple juice. I’m pretty sure I don’t even have enough to make eggs or coffee.” He snorts, running his fingers through your hair. 

“Right. I forgot, Mister F.B.I.” You snort back, playfully poking his arm. “How was your time in Alaska?” 

It’s really common for your brain to malfunction around Spencer. You don’t feel the need to think or stay on alert if he’s with you. 

“Grim. Bleak.” He keeps it short on purpose. 

He doesn’t want to taint what little time he has with you focused on the gory parts of his job. Or any parts of his job at all. He spends too much of his time there as it is, so he’d much prefer to keep that part of his life separate from you. Spencer didn’t understand what it truly meant to live until after you came into his life. He’d never admit it out loud, but being around you made him realise how much of his soul his job steals from him, piece by piece. You make it whole again.

“How bad was it?” Curiosity still gets the better of you at times.

“Awful. You weren’t there when I woke up every morning.” He steers the conversation again. 

“Uh-huh.” You smirk, looking up at him. “You say that to all your girl-friends the morning after?” 

He takes a small step back, creating space as he cups your face.

“Even if I had the social skills required, when do you honestly think I would have the time between being at work and being with you?” 

“When you’re at work. Duh.” You tap his temple, playfully, voice dripping with sarcasm.

He scoffs, unamused. It’s something Spencer can’t honestly even imagine. You’re his solace, his best friend…his person. 

“Get dressed.” He presses a kiss to the top of your head. “We’ll stop by that bakery you love and get some food in your system. Hopefully before your suggestions start becoming more and more insane.” 

You don’t appreciate the awestruck look on his face when you’re certain you’ve got chocolate lining the corners of your mouth. You attempt to glare at him, but it doesn’t last and you find yourself fighting back a smile.

“Cut it out!” You groan, stringing out the end of your sentence. 

The trolley comes to a halt as you stop to grab your phone, but he snatches it out of your hand before you can open the camera.

“Hey–”

“I’m revoking your phone privileges until your urge to keep checking your reflection fizzles out.” He states casually, slipping the phone into his pocket as he reaches for a loaf of bread on the top shelf. 

“Revoking my– what are you my fucking mother?” You reach for his pocket, but he grabs your wrist before you can retrieve your phone. 

You try to use your free arm, but he traps that one in his hands too. 

“I don’t wanna walk around with chocolate around my mouth!” You whisper-shout, mindful of other shoppers passing by.

“For the fifth time, you don’t have chocolate anywhere on your face. It wasn’t there after you finished your shake and it won’t be there no matter how many times you check.”

You ignore him, trying to free yourself from his grip.

“You don’t believe me?” The look on his face is more entertained than shocked.

“Spencer, my fluffy-headed, genius bookworm, I would put my life in your hands if you asked me to but after that time you let me walk around with my lipstick smudged–”

“That happened one time!” He gripes, less concerned about his volume. 

“I looked like I came straight off the clock from a circus!” 

“It wasn’t that bad!” 

“Six hours, you let me walk around like that!” 

If he were to be completely honest, he was completely enraptured by your long tangent about why you despise dolphins. Most of it wasn’t based on facts and the parts that were, weren’t really a feasible argument since morals are a uniquely human concept. However, that was the day he uncovered how brightly you light up when you talk about something you’re passionate about. He spent the rest of that time, subtly digging, trying to figure out the topics that made you glow so he could keep bringing them up. 

“There’s nothing there. Your face is– looks perfect.” He fumbles on his words.

“I can feel it!” You protest.

“That happens because–”

“Reid?” An unfamiliar voice calls out from behind you.

Spencer lets go of your wrists as you turn to face the owner of the voice. Two blondes, one behind the other. One of them is a lot more colourful and bold, with large statement jewelry and a pair of gorgeous platform heels that match her dress. The other is less vibrant, but with no less confidence and blue eyes that stand out like diamonds shining under lights. 

“Hey! What are you guys doing here?” 

You’re not a profiler, but you don’t miss the immediate shift in Spencer’s demeanour. He seems a lot more reserved and shy, as compared to the confidant and playful version of him that you know. 

“We’re picking up some things for my birthday bash this weekend.” The brown-eyed blonde chirps. “The one that I will definitely see you at, no excuses allowed!” 

“Right.” He gives an awkward, tight-lipped smile. 

Spencer loves his coworkers, he really does. They’re basically his family. However, he wants nothing more for them to go away right now. Not for any reason other than wanting to keep you away from them, because he knows them. For all their amazing qualities, there’s one that annoys him the most and that’s how nosey they can be. Especially when it comes to him. 

“Hi. I’m JJ.” The blue-eyed blonde takes the initiative to introduce herself, reaching out her hand for a friendly shake.

He knows it’s from a place of love. He’s the youngest member of the team, they all want to protect him, but he detests how they coddle him. He can already sense the incoming invitation from Garcia to her birthday. He knows that it won’t take long for you to befriend everyone on his team, because, well, they’re all amazing people. Integrating you with that part of his life is something he’s just not ready for. Not like this.

“I’m Penelope and oh my goodness, you are just gorgeous!” 

He enjoys how when he’s with you, he can exist in a separate bubble. Where all he is, is not the resident genius of the BAU. More than that, he knows of the dangers that come with integrating the two separate lives. He’s seen the losses that occur, whether they be by generic circumstances or unplanned deaths. And there’s nothing he can do to stop his worlds colliding, a fact he has to grasp as soon as he zones back in to find three sets of eyes staring at him, expectantly.  

“Right.” He clears his throat, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “These are my– um– this is Penelope Garcia and Jennifer Jareau, or JJ. We work together.” 

The introduction is hesitant and rushed at best, but you chalk it up to him being taken off guard. You want to gauge his mood, try and figure out where his head’s at, but that’s going to have to wait. 

“Oh my God! I knew it!” Garcia gasps dramatically, taking your hand in hers. “You’re the reason he’s always in a rush to leave now! It is so nice to meet you!”

Garcia’s not wrong. You are the reason he’s always in a rush to get away. You’re his escape from the harsh realities he faces every day. You’re unsure of how to respond. In fact, you’re not even certain as to what’s going on. Nobody else seems to match Penelope's enthusiasm. Spencer looks mortified, while JJ looks like she wants to drag Penelope away. Still, everybody’s too frozen to stop her. 

“Did you know that you have him checking his phone more than a lovestruck teenage girl? Him! One of the biggest technophobes I’ve ever met!”

This is also a fact. Spencer’s not an idiot. He’s not oblivious to the open-mouthed stares he gets every time he’s caught smiling like a dopey idiot after looking at the screen. He’s just never cared. It’s almost impossible to ignore any notification from you. He doesn’t feel great about that coming to bite him in the ass right about now. 

Given different circumstances that were more in his control, Spencer would be elated to introduce the most important people in his life to each other. This whole interaction is actually shorter than he feels it is, but for Spencer, time moves too slowly. He can sense how the safety of your company as he knows it, the most valuable aspect of his life, is under threat of being ripped away from him with every second that passes. Without you, Spencer would once again find himself lost. 

“Spencer, you have to bring her to my bash this weekend! Everybody would love to meet your girlfriend!” Garcia wiggles her eyebrows, eyes smirking beneath her glasses.

Because all he is, is yours. 

“Oh! Uhm–” You begin.

“No Garcia, she’s–this is…my friend..” He adds at the same time, unable to hide his stutter.

At least, that’s all he wants to be.

“Right…we’re just…friends.” You confirm with a half-hearted smile at the reminder of your reality. 

It was better this way. The two of you agreed on this at the start of your arrangement. 

Spoilers: Mostly just fluff, a sprinkle of angst, smut, lots of mutual pining, friends with benefits.

AN - I felt a surge of evil take over my bones when I wrote this and any events that unfolded were out of my control. This is not my finest work, but once I thought of it I had to share it. Also I know I said not to bother me about fics bc uni and I still mean that, I just don’t know what happened. It’s like I got a bit of inspo and couldn’t help myself. Huge thanks to @mrs-dr-reid for beta reading! FWB Writing Challenge by @imagining-in-the-margins Prompt - "I wanna be yours" by Arctic Monkeys

No bc writing that opening scene on the bed might be my favourite and u should tell me if u agree bc I wanna write more like that, but if u hate it then I won't.

Thanks for reading.

[sabokunsmalia]

anon's request: Hiii. I feel like w the amount of times I drop I should sign off w an emoji lololl. But anyway I wanted to drop in and say that I hope you’re having a good week and leave a lil request for you. If you could write a fluff w ace or sabo where like they wake up early in the morning and are looking at the reader and reminiscing about their relationship. It kinda hits them that they’re in love and wouldn’t change a thing. Again hope you’re having a good day/week 🤗 hi it's malia: i couldn't decide, both are heavily underrated so doing both was the best decision. i even added luffy because this felt like a beautiful asl brother thing to do, lol. please, take yourself an emoji of the endless list, i would be pretty happy and probably crying happy tears if you were my very first anon. ♥

featuring: flame emperor sabo, portgas d. ace, monkey d. luffy

ʚ flame emperor sabo ɞ

↷ the bright rays of the golden sun forced sabo to wake up from his slumber, totally against his will. he just came back from a three-week mission yesterday, and couldn't wait to spend at least two days by your side without interference. his soft fingertips, protected from the roughness of his mission by the thick leather gloves, caressed the skin along your spine. you were still heavily asleep, face pressed against his naked chest, your warm breath fanning across his skin. you looked beautiful, so peaceful, so different from what kind of moments and things sabo has seen in the past weeks. or better, his entire life since dragon pulled him out of the water. sabo wanted to become the perfect chief of staff, training and working harder than anybody else to keep his position, to make his savior proud. hell, most of his actions were way too risky to be acceptable. but the nobleborn man did not care about his own life as long as the revolutionary army could change the slightest thing in the world, he would be satisfied. until you popped up, your presence stepped in his sight and scolded him for being so careless about his own life.

↷ that night, sabo had to ask you out on a date. he didn’t have much time but he would definitely give you the couple of hours he had off. the sun rays cascaded hues of gold across your unblemished skin the day he took you to a fancy restaurant — confronted with the same image right now, sabo could not stop the trail of memories embedded in his mind. you infiltrated any given space, intoxicated him, and lured him into a paradise. like a siren but with love and a happy ending to it. your body jerked away from his touch ever so slightly when his fingertips grazed over and around your hipbone. a silenced chuckle left his mouth, remembering exactly the night you slept in his room and bed for the first time. oh, your trembling body made it difficult to cuddle properly, the sudden waves of anxiety always pulling you away from sabo's touch and warmth. the little things, he remembered so clearly as if they happened yesterday. the amount of times, he wanted to confess his love but couldn't find the courage to speak his mind. it happened way too often, the small glances you shared across the room, the several ways koala tried to set you two up. god, the poor girl was completely exhausted from dealing with the shyness of two people when it came to adoring someone.

↷ sabo had the slight hope of finding a lover on an island far away. he would not be able to spend much time with them, but it would be worth it to know they are safe. the world nobles and the marine's were a strong enemy, attempting to find the revolutionary army and stop their movement. but when the chief of staff's eyes landed on you, he couldn't stop his heart from beating faster, his head from imagining having you by his side and certainly not himself from falling in love with you utterly fast. his eyes anchored on your sweet face, so calm and relaxed while sleeping, as the memories of the past weeks and months sprawled out in the back of his head. pictures of moments, he would never forget, or dare himself to change. your story together was perfect, and while it was dangerous to share romantic feelings with someone in the same position, sabo would never change the slightest thing.

ʚ monkey d. luffy ɞ

↷ as the captain of a wanted pirate crew, luffy had very few moments to rest and calm down from the constant fights. but when he got the chance to stay in bed longer than usual, the straw hat had his arms wrapped up tightly around your body. you sprawled out on top of him, one leg on each side. cheek pressed against his toned, naked chest while inhaling and exhaling deep breaths. you always begged him to calm down once in a while, and rest from the fighting and the punches, but luffy was very bad at listening. for almost two years, you asked and he denied it with a chuckle and no words. one of his hands reached up, the calloused fingertips which became rougher over the course of time brushed the thin strands of hair out of your face. the corners of your mouth lifted slightly, almost invisible, as you exhaled a deep breath. even in your sleep, you bathed in the softness of luffy's touch. certain little things, luffy picked up over the course of your relationship.

↷ no one around luffy thought he was capable of feeling love for anything else than his occupancy as a pirate. but when the straw hats visited your island, and luffy shared a look with you, it was certain that the boy fell head over heels for your precious self. throughout the events of the past months, you gave luffy enough strength to fight further and stronger. even after losing ace, you were his glimpse of hope. a smile crept its way onto luffy's mouth, remembering the nights, you stayed on deck with him. falling asleep in his arms while watching the wide ocean sway around the thousand sunny. the days, you brought him food when he didn't join the crew for dinner. something which didn't happen before, he would never let a meal get wasted. memories, he carried with him like pictures on a wall. framed with golden ornaments and attached to his heart. moments, luffy used as a reminder to always keep fighting, to stay strong in the worst fights.

↷ his dilated pupils were locked on your statue on him, so small, so beautiful and so admirable. his slender and warm fingers combed through the mess of hair, adoring the way you made him feel safe between the enemies that wanted his head. luffy could agree to many alliances, could laugh at way too many people, yet, most of them wanted to murder the straw hat behind his back. the million little things you've done for him, no matter if the days were good or bad, they pulled luffy deeper into your spell. he fell harder for you with each given day, and while becoming the king of the pirates was his priority task, you quickly changed the placement. the straw hat did not except to experiment love on his journey to the one piece, and yet, luffy would not trade this life for anything else, he would never change any step of your love story and relationship together.

ʚ portgas d. ace ɞ

↷ there was not one calm night on the moby dick since the commanders gathered for an arranged party. music boomed across the deck of the main ship, and spread across the vast ocean. colorful lights, red and blue cascaded through the darkness and announced the ship to any other pirate crews or marine admirals. those feasts were ace's greatest pleasure. he loved drinking booze and eating meals until passing out. but those past days, it was somehow different. seated in the corner, the glass tightly in one of his hands, ace watched his friends and family interact with you. dancing around with marco, and having long conversations with pops or thatch. the night was a long one again, the third in a row and it was no surprise the next morning when you were still asleep. cuddled up in ace's arms while pressing your back further against his naked chest. warmth spread underneath the thick blanket but also from ace's logia devil fruit powers. a walking heater, who watched closely how your chest rose while you inhaled and exhaled.

↷ the second division commander felt the tingling in his right arm, knowing that a couple more minutes could increase the slight pain. but he wouldn't dare himself to wake you up from a much-needed nap. after dancing way too many hours with marco, and even being forced to dance another round with ace by your side, your legs were hurting badly. his unoccupied hand wandered from your hipbone towards your thick thigh. smirking to himself as you carefully pushed yourself further against his body, ace massaged your unblemished and soft skin. he didn't think about taking advantage or doing anything sexual, the shaggy black-haired decided to give you something back. he remembered clearly how many times you decided to massage his tense shoulders and back when he returned from another long mission. standing on the small boat which only worked with his particular devil fruit powers didn't allow him much of a comfortable position. days passed, sometimes even weeks or months while you waited for him and hoped for ace to return well.

↷ over the months of dating, ace reminded himself of the small things you have done for him. it always kept him alive and awake when needed, knowing that returning to you was his greatest desire. he wouldn't want to see your soft face stained by the tears from your eyes. this time, he promised to stay longer by your side, to decline leaving the ship so easily and quickly. his rough fingertips caressed along the skin of your thigh while his eyes drifted over the small statues on the shelf close to the bed. little gifts that ace brought along when he was on a mission far away. you occupied his mind, kept him awake and forced his nightly dreams to enter his days. being in a relationship as a pirate always caused problems, fearing for the well-being of you more than his own. and yet, ace wouldn't change a fact, wouldn't change any steps of the past that you shared together. each return to the moby dick came with new shivers, heavy goosebumps and a quick heartbeat. feelings, ace only got when your face popped into his mind, when you occupied his head.

[iamfuckingsorry]

i'm sorry but like. i played the game for the first time like a month ago (and it absolutely wrecked me, it was beautiful), and i just can't stop thinking about this and i need to get it out. but like, kim, what the fuck is the deal with kim?

like, he's just such a weird little man with such a weird little collection of character traits, but also he's just so fucking perfect.

like, kim. he spent 15 years being a cop in a department he fucking hated but he just stuck it out. he is so done with teens he basically refuses to speak to them unless he absolutely has to, but he still spent 15 fucking years in that section, refusing to give up. he's proud to be a revacholian and to protect the city now, but did he feel this way when he joined the RCM? or did he join to prove to everyone that even a monkey fucker like him could be revacholian? or did he join because he got kicked out of the orphanage he grew up at and didn't have anywhere else to go? or was there a different reason altogether?

and look at him now. he's presumably one of the best cops in his precint (i'm sure he mentions something about this early on in the game but i honestly can't remember), and one that seems to mostly play fair and genuinely care, which doesn't seem to be that common at all. and he's proud of this and strives to always be professional and calm and collected even if he doesn't always fully manage. he keeps himself in check first and foremost, and seems to try to keep everyone at an arm's length and not engage in personal discussions, even though he will often indulge harry if directly asked.

and so far it all makes sense, right? he's been treated like shit all throughout his life, dealt a fairly shitty hand, an orphan, an immigrant, a homo, possibly visually impaired (has he always needed glasses? was he able to get them as a broke-ass kid with no one to speak on his behalf? or did he grow up never able to see properly, struggling in school because he could never read the board or react in time when people threw shit at him, made fun of by both teachers and classmates?), mocked and ridiculed, and he's had to fight hard to get to where he is now. and he desperately needs to keep it this way, so he works hard and sticks to the rules and keeps his distance from people, and he puts a stop to everyone and everything that people could make fun of (no, harry, you will /not/ call me kimball, you will call me Lt kitsuragi, no, harry, you will /not/ tell anyone about the ice bear fridge, i will /not/ be known as the ice bear cop). but he's also mostly a genuinely nice and compassionate person and he really cares, as long as people are at least trying to do good.

but also…

he basically wears period cosplay to work. like. for real, he clearly wears his fucking pilot jacket so often that having the RCM insignia sewn onto it was the most logical choice. he is so obviously into planes and cars (but he's too blind to be a pilot :), do you think he used to hate himself as a kid not only because he was poor and abandoned by everyone and "an immigrant" but also because not even his own fucking body would let him be what he wanted to be), he has an extremely expensive vehicle that's his, his only, and not even really needed for the stuff he does at work the majority of the time. he clearly had to have a chat with his boss at some point in time and justify this purchase and why the car should be permanently assigned to him and him only, and even if i'm sure he had a bunch of actual reasons you can't convince me that his boss and all of his colleagues weren't all aware that really, he just wanted a fast fucking car and had an excuse to get it. and clearly the higher ups like him enough to indulge him, because surely no one would be actually fooled? why would a crime investigator get it and not, like, the fucking traffic guys chasing drunk drivers and illegal racers every night?

and like, in some ways he fucking owns it, doesn't seem to give a fuck, he's who he is and if people don't like it that's not his problem. but he's also embarassed about listening to that fucking radio station. but he also drives a sports car and wears driving gloves and a pilot jacket, of course he's listen to that fucking radio station. but then he also does newspaper crosswords. like, he seems to put a into maintaining this facade of professionality, but he also really doesn't fucking care when it comes to a lot of the stuff, it's great. except for the extremely random stuff that he does care about and can get extremely flustered about momentarily.

and it feels really out of character in a way. he works so hard on keeping himself in check at all times, representing the RCM in a good light and making sure both him and others get treated with the respect they deserve. he smokes one cigarette a day to keep proving to himself he can keep his vices in check, for fuck's sake. but then it's like he just picked one (1) part of his personality where he just went like, fuck it. Fuck it, I work hard for this shit and I deserve to do what I want sometimes too, and this one fucking thing is innocent enough and safe enough, and I don't give a fuck, I deserve /one fucking thing/ and I'm gonna get it. I'm getting the goddamn jacket and the Kineema and if people have a problem with that, they can go fuck themselves. I /need/ this one thing and I. Am. Getting. It.

(it's clearly a big part of his personality, but do you think there were other massive interests in the past, or maybe there still are others he isn't as open about with? Things he thinks would undermine his career and reputation? Past hobbies he abandoned because if anyone found out, that would be the end of his career at the RCM, even though for anyone else who wasn't a stupid fucking immigrant who can't even see right it would be a funny little detail?)

anyway.

i'm just like. stay the way you are, my weird little man. you're great.

[flammingnachos]

𝑶𝒃𝒔𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒆𝒅(Zoro x fem!reader)

𝘚𝘺𝘯𝘰𝘱𝘴𝘪𝘴; Zoro can’t seem to get his fixation off a certain crew member that recently joined the pirates so what else can he do rather than confront her about the damage she’s doing to his heart.

𝘞𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨; clueless!reader

During my days of being apart of the straw hat pirates it was pretty hectic and exhausting but entirely fun

Their Captain Monkey D. Luffy had recruited me off another one of the islands that they had rescued initially, I wasn't planning on becoming a pirate but after Luffy had begged and pleaded so had some of the crew members pleaded for me to join since they needed a strategist and after seeing me give them a brilliant idea to take down the larger group of pirates that were trying to take over the island.

The captain himself had pleaded and pleaded and begged up I at least until I took up on that offer, I couldn’t say no to those big wide eyes of his they were just too irresistible

So here I am now, leaning over the railing of the ‘going merry’ as they called it and watched as the sun set and the salty sea air blow in my face pushing back my hair a bit out of my face

“My beautiful Vicky, would you care for one of my homemade drinks for someone as beautiful as you”Sanji I think that’s his name, fluttered out practically flying with his toes toward me with his hands extending with the drink he made

Aw how sweet

“Thanks, Sanji” I complimented flashing him one of my signature smiles, after that he basically fainted on the floor. Evaporating right in front of my face

“Anything for my beautiful Vicky..” he just kept muttering incoherent words to himself, the lit cigarette that was in his mouth dropped to the ground right next to him. His eyes turning into hearts

“Sanji..”I called out unsure of what to do at this moment

No response

He continued mumbling out words while pooling on the floor that was until I heard luffys voice yelling in the distance of the ship

“Sanji, I'm hungry!” he called out making his way over to where we both were at, at this Sanji angrily got up picking up his cigarette in the process and walked away muttering curse words to himself

“You’ll have to wait!” he responded in a much harsher tone

Luffy shrugged this off and continued his way towards me

“Hey Vicky” he greeted with that big ole gummy smile of his stuck on his face

“Hi Luffy” I greeted back taking a tiny sip from the drink Sanji got me, Luffy saw this and intensely eyed my drink with that stupid smile of his still on his face

“Something wrong Captain” I asked out confused

He shaked his head in response

“Nope” he popped out the ‘P’

then silence came back as he continued eyeing the drink in my hands

he wants the drink

I pushed out the drink towards Luffy’s face as he greedily snatched it and poured it down his mouth in one go

“Thank you Vicky!” He jumped up happily right then we heard some more yelling in the distance Once again

“Luffy’s you jackass, where's my juice” Nami ran out of her office with an empty glass container in her hand and speed walked toward us

“Gotta go” he giggled out speed walking the opposite direction

Nami saw this and ran towards him as she chased him down the other side of the ship

Strange Crew indeed

I shrugged this off and turned my attention back to the sunset that was now gone and nightfall had fallen upon the ship now

The breeze continued to blow in my face as I focused more on how my life has been going so far, the adventures I've been having and the new friends I've made

“Have anyone seen zoro” chopper asked roaming around the ship high and low looking for Zoro

Zorro..

This man was the finest thing on the grand line itself, it's a shame he's so ignorant and anti-social I would have tried to make a move on the guy but he was just so closed off I didn't know how he would react if I just go up to him and started a conversation

I've always had my eyes on the swordsman since the beginning from when I joined the ship, he was the only one who wasn't begging and pleading for me to join and just shrugged it off when Luffy informed him of a new crewmate

From the start, til now we haven't had a decent conversation with each other but just glances here and there, I'm too shy to just walk up to him and start talking and he's…I guess too closed off. I would occasionally pass by him here and there Working out and stuff but that's it, even during dinner we wouldn't speak to each other

Nami noticed this and always pestered me about why out of all the crew mates I hadn't spoken to Zoro yet at all, I would simply tell her to have patience and that I was waiting for him to feel comfortable enough to have an conversation with me

“Don’t let that cold facade fool you Vicky, he's nice..”

“When he wants to be” Robin chimed in one time when Nami was on her daily rants again about my relationship with Zoro

Naomi snickered at this in which I just blushed and walked off before she started all over again

𝒁𝑶𝑹𝑶

there she goes again..

Making my adrenaline rush to my ass and my heart beat ten times my normal heart rate, I don't know how to explain the way I feel about Vicky

The first time I laid eyes on her was when that Captain of ours fluffy announced that she had officially agreed to join the crew as the ships strategist

Personally, I didn't think we needed someone to make great plans for us we could have just go in and fight and go right back out and were done but boy seeing her in action really changed my mind, The Way how she just gave orders while still softly speaking it out just gave me weird things inside my stomach

Ever since she joined I've never personally spoken to her before rather than glimpses I would give to her here and there

I haven't mustered the courage to ever personally walk up to her and start a conversation but all I could do was watch that stupid cook flirt with her everyday practically drooling and having another one of his perverted seizures whenever she'd thank him or even just started a conversation with him

‘how does he do it’ I wondered

I wouldn't ever admit but Sanji had a way with the ladies that I was always secretly envious off, even when I wouldn't show it I hated the way he could just effortlessly flirt with her without getting a heartache and stammering halfway in the conversation, he would just simply let it flow through

I hated that

No matter how hard I tried and avoided her, frequently working out more than usual just to get this chick out of my mind but it simply wouldn't work and that's what pissed me off, my life was going so good before her and now that's she's here I can't seem to eat, sleep, breath, move, or even think straight without this chick crossing my mind and making me frozen

This had gone far long enough

Tonight I'm gonna confront her about this spell she's cast upon me to make me so weak in the knees, I would seriously need to tell Luffy that we might have invited a witch on board

𝑽𝑰𝑪𝑲𝒀

I yawned a bit, looking around and seeing that everyone must have gone to bed already while I was the only one up, I looked back at the ocean some more before pushing myself off the railings and heading downstairs

While doing so someone bumped into me when they were turning the corner form the gym room and basically toppled me down on the floor,

“My apologies” I looked up and it was Zoro sweating still carrying those dam three swords that nearly killed me just now

I nodded taking his hands that he had extended to help me to my feet and thanked him, turning my heel to walk back to the room when he halted my movement by holding onto my shoulders

“Can I ask you a question” he paused out

I turned my head slightly to look at him

“Yeah..”

He sucked in a deep breath of air before speaking

“Are you a witch”

This time I fully turned around and look at him in bewilderment

“You serious right now”

“You prance around here innocent and vulnerable but you think I haven't uncovered your secret yet. I have” he said

I just stared at him up and down in shock

An I dreaming now

“Zoro..” I whispered out

“You think I don’t know about your witch act!”

“you’ve put me under one of yours spells and I can’t get out, GET it the hell off me woman” He shouted

I looked over at him flabbergasted

“what spell” I mumbled out

He sighed at this

“you think I don’t know..that you put a love spell on me to force me to be in love with you!” He screamed moving up and down

“I’m not ready to be In love and it feels shitty because of all these damn insects in my stomach that won’t stop moving” He confessed in one breath

I started laughing at this cause ‘what the hell’, he quirked up his eyebrows

“What’s so funny”

“Zoro I think you like me”

The atmosphere froze

“I think your attracted to me to the point where you think I’m a witch because you’ve never felt this way about anyone before..” I explained

“by the way not a witch”

The atmosphere went quiet

“right..”He only mumbled

We didn’t say anything to each other as he scratched the back of his head while I nearly suffocated myself to not laugh my ass off in his face

“how about we go out to the deck and just talk” I breathed out walking past him as he followed behind

“ye.”

[turnupswritessometimes]

Sherliam Oneshot - Lessons in Anatomy

Summary: John murmured, "You don't believe in mermaids?" Sherlock snorted. "Do you? Truly?" "I think, on an expedition to see new species, we shouldn't be surprised to find new species." It was actually wise, even if it was teasing. Sherlock bit the inside of his cheek, bumping his shoulder against John's. "Don't expect me to sew a monkey onto a fish to indulge you."

***

Sherlock, a sailor on an expedition to the Galapagos Islands, gets shipwrecked - and saved, by a mermaid. 'Anatomy lessons' ensue.

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/52038016

Fic under the cut:

Sherlock stood at the rail of the ship, staring at the waves. They lapped against the hull in a steady, insistent rhythm. There was just enough of a breeze to push his hair back from his face; it had been tied back with a thoroughly salt-encrusted rope. His own tie had been lost the first day.

He loved sea voyages. For the first day. The change of scenery; the ocean; the crew and the tales they told. But then the next day was more of the same. Then more of the same. Open sea was, for the most part, not interesting to watch.  

He felt like a lion trapped in a cage at the circus. He'd happily leap through fire to be away from the monotony.

And it was even worse because he was so curious about what lay at the end of this voyage. Because they were headed to the Galapagos. This was an Exploration, and they were growing shorter and shorter in supply now the maps were mostly filled out. They would find all manner of strange creatures; the likes had only been recorded in Darwin's journals. Maybe a new species. Certainly there would be something interesting to take back to London.

But ships moved slower than they did in journals, and Sherlock was growing all the more restless. He’d tried to help with the ropes, and only succeeded in getting red burns against his palm. The only help he was to the crew was a violin performance in the evenings, and he was beginning to run out of songs.

"The crew say there's whales, in this area." That was John, at his side. At least he had John Watson, to while away the hours with.

"What a shame we have no hunting supplies." Because that, at least, would be exciting.

John raised his eyebrows. "I thought you didn't much care for hunting. A coward’s sport, you said."

"That's true. There’s no point in killing something just for exciting.” He sighed. "I shall have to content myself with a few grey backs, bobbing in the grey sea."

Though the sea wasn't grey here, not like England. It was picture book cerulean, the sky just a few shades lighter.

"Well, whales have blowholes," John said, seriously. "It will no doubt spray me in the face. That'll give you a good laugh."

Sherlock grinned, just at the thought.

"There ain't just whales, in these waters." One of the crew came behind them, swabbing at the deck as though it were a particularly pesky fly. "There's all manner o' strange creature."

"Oh, aye." Sherlock couldn't wipe the smile away completely. "Mermaids, even?"

"Oh, mermaids and all." The crew member's eyes grew wide, and earnest. "I seen 'em. Clear as day, fluttering through the water like butterflies."

"Well, we'll be sure to keep a weathered eye out."

The sarcasm flew over the man's head. "Just see you do, sir. Just see you do."

The two of them turned back to the ocean view, listening as the man continued his vigorous swabbing. When he was far enough away, John murmured, "You don't believe in mermaids?"

Sherlock snorted. "Do you? Truly?"

"I think, on an expedition to see new species, we shouldn't be surprised to find new species."

It was actually wise, even if it was teasing. Sherlock bit the inside of his cheek, bumping his shoulder against John's. "Don't expect me to sew a monkey onto a fish to indulge you."

John nudged him back. That was the moment the first spot of rain came down. Sherlock looked to the sky. That beautiful blue was suddenly filling with grey clouds.

"You two'd better head inside," the captain called. "Storm's coming, and it'll be a big one."

Even as he finished speaking, the rain became to come down in earnest. Not like English rain; this came down in fat, warm droplets and made the air more humid than ever. It was that humidity that signalled there was a storm on its way.

 They complied. Headed back to their cabin and listened to the waves crashing against the hull. To the rain clattering against the porthole. To the deck hands shouting above them.

Thunder came. A rolling thunder that seemed angrier and more foreboding than back in England.

"I say." John steadied himself against the wall. "Do you think they're alright?"

The boat lurched sickeningly to one side. Sherlock slipped, only just catching himself against the wooden wall. It lurched to the other side. The rain spattered against the porthole so heavily that it seemed in danger of cracking.

“No,” Sherlock said, though he couldn’t tell if John heard him, over the roar of the storm. He felt his way to the door, fumbling to get it open against the roaring wind. Every step up to the deck felt like a fight. But eventually he stepped out onto the deck to see chaos. The boards were as slippery as ice, the ropes caught in the wind, lashing like whips, men fumbling to get everything under control.

Sherlock was soaked through in a matter of moments. Lightning flashed in the dark sky.

He grabbed the nearest deckhand by the arm. Yelled, “What can I do?”

“The ropes!” The man replied. “The sails!”

So Sherlock fought his way across the boards. His boots slipped; he crashed to one knee. Ended up crawling to the masts and fighting to grab hold of one of the lashing ropes. It kicked like a snake. He fumbled to copy the sailors around him, his fingers slipping over the rungs of the rope, rain pelting at his back.

The wind howled, battering his cheeks. He gritted his teeth, tugging the rope to knot it.

The cries sounded the same as all the rest. He looked up too late. But the mast was swinging, with a terrifying speed, towards him. Lightning illuminated it for a moment, and in that moment, Sherlock realised that he wasn’t going to get out of the way in time.

The mast hit him in the next moment. Right in his chest. It knocked the breath from his lungs; reverberated through every part of his body. The deck fell away. There was only the wind and the rain; he was in the air.

Then there was rain all around him. No, not rain. The ocean. Salty ocean water that enveloped him whole. Everything was black, and dark and he’d thought the ocean here would be warm, but it was freezing, now.

It was freezing, and he hadn’t had time to take a breath. His lungs screamed, banging against his ribs. His limbs were heavy – too cold and too heavy from the water around him..

And shit, Sherlock thought, shit this was how he was going to die. He wanted to be angry about it, but even that seemed like a huge effort.

There was something in the water with him. It brushed his limbs, and his back.

Then he lost all of his senses.

*

Sherlock returned to the world with the same sickening thud that had sent him out of it. He lurched upwards; coughing up seawater. It burnt his throat. His hair hung in his face. Everything seemed terribly bright, and terribly hot.

He left a puddle of seawater on the ground. The ground. He blinked, his eyes aching, as it came into focus. There was sand underneath his fingers. But his arms felt like jelly; he couldn’t push himself up.

“That was not as elegant as I thought it would be.”

A voice cut through the roaring of blood in his ears. Sherlock fought to catch his breath, blinking hard. It wasn’t particularly light, after all. It was easier to roll onto his back. The sky was beautiful. Dusky mauve and indigo and a hint of rose in the clouds. Dawn, then.

“You saved me.” Sherlock’s voice was hoarse.

“Perhaps it’s because you are not a maiden.” Fingers brushed dark strands from his face. And a face came into view. The long, blonde hair framing it were as bright as the sun. It hung over his pale shoulders, framing an elfin face. High cheekbones, cupid’s bow mouth. “Or because I am not a maiden.”

Sherlock didn’t have the strength to sit up. His clothes hung, soddenly, to him. He stared up at his saviour. “You’re as pretty as one.”

He hadn’t meant to say that. He’d meant to ask who on earth this was, and how he was still alive.

His saviour smiled, just as elfishly, and it made his eyes glitter. They were a rich, shining red, like conkers.

“Thank you.” The hand was still on his cheek, a thumb trailing down the side, to the corner of his mouth. It pressed there. “You’re rather nice, as well.”

His heart pounded. He managed to raise his own hand, to catch his saviour’s wrist. “What wasn’t as elegant as you thought?” “Saving you.” The boy’s head tilted to the side, causing his blonde hair to ripple. “I thought you’d wake more elegantly.”

“How could you save me?”

“Do you remember? You fell overboard.”

“But I’d remember you on the crew,” Sherlock murmured. He was noticing more; that his saviour wore no shirt. He could see inches upon inches of creamy, pale skin. Could just see a pink nipple, between the strands of hair. His body was just as beautiful; just as elegant; as his face.

“I am not part of your crew, sailor.” The hand moved again, just over his bottom lip – his mouth fell open – to his chin.

“Who are you?”

Because there was something in his saviour’s hair; poking out where his ears would be. Something that looked like, and twitched, like fins. That wasn’t possible. Surely. Surely his mind was being ridiculous.

“Well—” The boy pulled away, looking Sherlock over. “I’m not a whale. Or a monkey sewn onto a fish.”

They were familiar words. His hand shifted, as well, down to Sherlock’s chest. Over his damp shirt, and racing heart. It was pounding for a different reason now; pounding because there was a beautiful face smiling at him. He shifted, managing to get onto his elbows. Managed see that he lay on a stretch of beach; scrubby plants to either side, the waves just beyond his feet.

And by his feet – his mind refused to believe it – a fish tail. A long, curving fish tale, the fin caught by the edges of the tride. The sun shone on the scales; they were vermillion. But in the light, there were hints of orange, of rose. In the shadows it was burgundy. Sherlock could watch it all day, but he trailed his gaze upwards. Saw the top of the tail, where it turned to the creamy skin of the boy’s stomach.

“I’m dreaming,” he said. This was not possible.

“Are you in pain?” The creature’s voice was soft, almost silky.

Sherlock nodded, and his dark hair was pushed back from his damp cheeks again. His chest still burnt and there was a dull pounding in his head.

“Then you aren’t dreaming.”

“Mermaids aren’t real,” Sherlock insisted.

The creature chuckled. A soft chuckle. His hand gently entwined with Sherlock’s, tugging it to himself. Sherlock’s hand felt heavy. His fingers brushed against the boy’s bare shoulder. The curve of his collarbone. The softness of his neck, and the line of his jaw. His fingertips disrupted the sparkling water drops there, turning them to rivers running down his skin.

“Am I real?” His saviour smiled at him.

Sherlock made a sound. Because now that his mind had woken up, now that he could see and think clearly, he realised the boy’s eyes weren’t brown at all. They were red. Like cherries. Like his ears and his tail.

This boy – this creature – this mermaid – was beautiful. Stunningly beautiful, and maybe it was because he was still half-drowned, maybe he was under some kind of spell, but he felt enchanted. Entirely drawn in.

“Perhaps I’m dead.” But he didn’t pull his hand away.

The mermaid’s hand shifted, so it lay over Sherlock’s chest. His palm was warm. “I can feel your heartbeat.”

“I’m delirious, then.” He arched into the touch. "Imagining things."

The mermaid chuckled. And did something that, to Sherlock, only confirmed his suspicions of delirium: he leant down, and pressed their lips together. He was warm, and tasted of salt. His eyelashes brushed Sherlock's skin, as he pulled away from the kiss, eyes glittering.

"Could you imagine that?"

It felt real. "No. I couldn't."

The mermaid's tail flicked. He felt it against his trousers and he felt a surge in his stomach. This creature was beguiling, and his kiss had made Sherlock's stomach leap. This was something out of a penny romance novel. Complete fantasy. Worse than that. The kind of explicit story that he would only read in private. It could go further down this route, if he lay back.

Did he want it to?

He pressed a hand to the mermaid's bare chest, pushing him away slightly. Those crimson eyes blinked at him; surprised.

"Let me make sure I have this right." He cleared his throat, and hoped it could help him clear his head. "A mermaid saved me from the ocean, because you've fallen in love with me."

"Love is a strong word." The mermaid touched the back of Sherlock's hand. Very gently, tracing down to his wrist. It sent goosebumps prickling through him. "I am intrigued by humans. By you."

Intrigued. The same feeling Sherlock had for the flora and fauna he was sailing to see. As though this was an experiment. He sat up properly, the swimming in his head beginning to fade.

The mermaid sat on the beach, his tail curled, as though an artist had drawn him. His hair shone gold in the daylight.

"Intrigued," Sherlock murmured. "You have an interesting way of showing intrigue."

The mermaid shrugged, catching a dark curl on his finger, and twisting it around. "You're very beautiful."

"High praise, from you."

The mermaid smiled. Their fingers nudged, in the sand, and Sherlock realised that he still had a palm pressed to the creature's chest. He stared. His skin was smooth and ivory. When he leant into the touch, Sherlock could see the lines by his ribs - deep lines. Were they gills? The mermaid took a breath, when he moved towards them, and the lines fluttered.

Sherlock let his fingers fall to the wet sand. His throat felt raw, and his head still too light. His chest still ached where it had been hit by the prow.

“As intrigued as I am,” the mermaid said. “You are unwell.”

“I could manage…” His mind was jumping ahead, and his gaze fixed on the mermaid’s lips. If he was delirious – if this was real – then he didn’t want to waste any time.

“You need rest.” Though the mermaid leant closer, as though he felt this same magnetism. So close that Sherlock could feel breath on his mouth. “There’s a cave, just around the bay. Could you make it there?”

“Not without you.” Sherlock grazed through blonde hair, gently taking hold of the strands, as though that would make him stay.

This creature, who smiled at him, somewhat indulgently. “I’ll meet you there.”

His lips grazed Sherlock’s. Just enough for him to lean forward, and manage to kiss him back, before he pulled away. Before his tail grazed Sherlock’s legs and trousers again, as he twisted away, easily over the sand, and disappearing back into the surf.

Sherlock saw a flash of crimson, above the water. It flashed again, to the left, and he realised he was being led to this cave. He managed to pull himself, with difficulty, to his feet. Managed to stagger through the wet sand, with his head still dully pounding. Now the mermaid wasn’t in front of him, he was sure he was delusional.

But his lips still tingled.

His imagination wasn’t that strong.

He found what was less a cave, and more an overhang. But it was shaded, with ferns springing from the soft sand. Very soft sand. He sat back down, his back against the rock, and watched the waves; the light on the waves; the sun was just beginning to set. That was good. It was much too bright, and much too hot.

He couldn’t be certain anymore, but there was another flash of crimson.

Then he had to give in to the pounding in his head.

*

Sherlock had dreamt it. He must have. Because when he awoke again, with a raw throat and raging stomach, there was no mermaid in sight. No mermaid to meet him. A delirious dream that had somehow led him to safety in the shade.

Because he was safe. Now his head was clear, he could see that he was on a bay of a large island. There was a forest, beyond the sand. He kept to the beach. Found coconuts and smashed them on the rocks, drinking their milk and going so far as to lick the flesh before he scraped that off with his teeth too. They were good fuel for the signal fire that he built where he’d washed up. He added leaves to it as well, to create as much smoke as possible.

Then he sat back under the overhang, and waited. Did not think of the beautiful face belonging to the beautiful creature. Did not think of those two chaste, fairy tale kisses. If he did, his trousers became tight.

It had been a fantasy. A dream. Because that sailor had told tales of mermaids, so it had all gotten mixed up in his mind.

But, in the late afternoon, then he saw something in the water. He first thought it was a shark, cutting through the waves towards him. But then a head emerged; a mostly human head, with sleek, golden hair. With glittering crimson eyes.

Sherlock met the creature at the start of the surf. Sat down as the mermaid pulled himself up, leaving the very end of his fin in the sea.

“You said you’d meet me,” Sherlock said. It came out accusing.

“And I have.” The mermaid pushed his long hair back, over ivory shoulders. His collarbone shone with drops of water, like a necklace of jewels. “I had to convince my brother that I hadn’t saved a sailor’s life. He’s not fond of humans.”

“You have a brother.” Sherlock watched a drop of water run down the boy’s bare chest, down to his naval. Even with a clear head, he felt attracted to this creature. It was his sparkling eyes and coy smirk; his softness contrasted with his boldness. He’d never met a boy like this, let alone a creature.

“Do you?”

“Yes.” Then Sherlock took in the second part of that sentence, and forced his eyes upwards. The boy’s crimson ones examined him, much too closely, shining like garnets. “Are you not supposed to save sailors?”

The mermaid chuckled. He reached out, catching a strand of Sherlock’s dark hair, and twisting it around one finger. “We’re supposed to drown you.”

“Then why didn’t you?” His fingers twitched, and grazed the scales of the mermaid’s tail. He felt it move against him. It was warm; the scales the size of his fingernails.

“Because—” The mermaid kept twisting his hair, until he had to lean forward to accommodate. Their faces were very close. “You call hunting a coward’s sport.”

“You listened to me.”

“I listen to many ships. Your conversation was interesting.” The boy’s eyes were half-lidded. “You’re interesting.”

Sherlock laughed. It felt light, and bubbly.

“To me, you’re interesting,” he replied. Dared to reach out his hand, and wipe his thumb over the boy’s collarbone. Felt the intake of breath under his touch. This was happening, then. They were continuing where they had left off. They were flirting, and that should have been absurd, but what else was he going to do whilst stranded on an island? With a beautiful boy who had his hand in his hair? “If you have a brother – do you have a name?”

“No.” He traced his fingers over the back of Sherlock’s hand. “But I like the name William. The first sailor I met was called William. It’s a nice name.”

Sherlock found himself smiling. He liked this one; with his knowing eyes and soft voice. With his slight smile.

“Can I call you William?”

The mermaid tilted his head to one side, catching the sun. “If I know what to call you?”

“Sherlock.” Sherlock leant closer to the mermaid – William, then, who buried his long fingers in his hair. “My name is Sherlock Holmes.”

Their lips brushed together, and Sherlock felt sparks dancing from the contact, as William whispered, “Sherlock Holmes.”

"I'm – not a sailor,” he whispered. “I’m on a research trip.”

William's mouth moved, to graze Sherlock's jaw. But only just enough to take his breath away. "What were you researching?"

Sherlock tilted his head away, his heart fluttering as surely as the mermaid’s tail. “New species.”

“I see.” He felt William’s lips move against the soft skin of his throat, then he dipped lower, nudging the collar of Sherlock’s shirt. “And what will you study, when you find this new species?”

Sherlock ghosted his fingers up the mermaid’s arm, past the curtain of silky hair. “Anatomy.”

"Remarkable.” William pulled away, his tail twitching eagerly between them. “I have the same interest."

They were watching each other's mouths. Watching the slow smirks growing there. Understanding each other.

Sherlock ran his fingers over the hollow of William's shoulder, his thumb tracing his collarbone.

"A joint investigation, then?" he whispered, as if this island was deserted. As if anyone could possibly overhear them.

William chuckled, breath warm on Sherlock's lips. "Quite."

Heat pulsed through him like a tidal wave. A tidal wave that sent him crashing forwards, his lips against William's. Their mouths opened against each other. The mermaid tasted of sea salt; felt soft, like velvet. He explored Sherlock's mouth greedily, his hands searching Sherlock's shirt, damp from the ocean spray. His fingers seemed to stick on every crease, sending sparks dancing across his stomach.

He pressed his palms to the curve of William's arms, round to his shoulder blades. They pressed against him as the mermaid pressed forward, humming in pleasure. His own back hit the sand once more, though he was only dimly aware of it; much more interested in William taking Sherlock's bottom lip between his teeth.  Sherlock's breath shook.

William's thumb caught his nipple through his shirt

Sherlock's back arched; they were so close his chest brushed William's. His bare chest. This boy was so very bare, and his skin was warm; his hair shining with damp, his tails glistening. Certainly something from a Greek epic.

His hands tightened on William's back, feeling his spine shift under him.

William pulled away from the kiss, licking his bottom lip, as though savouring it. His crimson eyes shone. "Intriguing."

"What is?" Though Sherlock knew. He was arching his back, one hand clutching at the sand, feeling deliciously trapped.

"This." William's thumb pressed over Sherlock's nipple again. Caught the damp fabric of his shirt, sending sparks darting through him. His tail twitched, twined around and through Sherlock's legs. He toyed with Sherlock's nipple, watching his breath catch and the heat rise in his cheeks. "Your reaction. What is the purpose?"

Sherlock's fingers explored the mermaid's spine, and how it shifted under his touch. William's eyes watched him, almost lazily, shining with amusement. He kept up his slow torture.

"Pleasure." Sherlock smiled.

William chuckled, in response, dipping down to kiss him. Sherlock kissed back, pressing his tongue through to feel William's tongue; his teeth. When William pulled away, he made a sound in the back of his throat. It only earnt another chuckle, as William tugged open his shirt. Press just the tip of his tongue to Sherlock's nipple, before grazing the tip of his teeth against it.

Sherlock whined. He felt the tail tighten as if in answer. William's mouth was warm, his lips damp. His other hand pressed against Sherlock's chest. His heart raced against it, his he'd light enough to feel delirious.

William pulled away when he thought he was about to unravel completely. Smirked down at him, "Pleasure, indeed."

Sherlock's fingers tangled in long, golden hair. He smiled. "Humans are very sensitive."

"I can see." William smiled back. He pressed a kiss to Sherlock's chest, then moved lower. Let his warm breath fan across the hollow of his chest, down to his abdomen. His teeth grazed sensitive skin, tongue poking out just enough to get Sherlock's breath to catch. He twitched, soft sounds emerging from him without his permission. He heard, and felt, William hum in response.

Sherlock twitched, and gasped, and let silky hair fall through his clutches. Felt scales against his bare legs and it sent a rush of arousal all the way through to his core. And when he felt William chuckling, knew he had to resist this. Couldn’t lose whatever battle was occurring. He shifted, half sitting up. Tilted William's chin up, so that those heavy-lidded, crimson eyes looked up at him.

"And is it the same for you?" he asked. His voice was low. It was a tease - because surely, he knew this about humans. Surely, this was a tease, and he felt the same way.

William pressed his teeth against Sherlock’s thumb. Nipped it, lightly. Murmured, "Why don't you investigate?"

Sherlock's hand dropped to William's chest. Eased him round, and down onto the sand. His tail flicked up after him, hitting the back of Sherlock's shins. He looked more beautiful, if possible, sprawled on the sand. His tail was a lurid red against it, stray scales climbing up his skin. Sherlock ran his thumb across them, and William’s stomach twitched against the touch. His skin was only a shade or two lighter than the sand around him, his hair sprawled out, those red eyes watching him with interest.

Sherlock kissed him first. He had to, to taste the salt on William’s lips one more time, before his lips trailed down, though still touching his skin until his found William’s nipple. Took it between his teeth and - toyed with it. Enjoyed the soft sound that William made as he did; how he arched in the sand and took a handful of Sherlock's curls. Tugged it, once, and he felt the sharp pain through his scalp. It made a sound come from the back of his throat involuntarily. From William's answering gasp, he enjoyed that.

Sherlock investigated lower. Trailed his tongue down William's chest and stomach, to the line where his scales began. No bigger than his fingernails, glistening in the sunshine. They were beautiful. He traced his finger across them, and William's tail shifted in response.

"This is where we differ," he said. "How sensitive are you, down here?"

William tilted his head, from where he lay in the sand, smirking. "That's for you to discover."

Quite, Sherlock found out. His fingertips earnt him twitches, and his mouth earnt gasps. The join on his fin was particularly sensitive. William whined, and keened at the tiniest touch.

Sherlock couldn't help smiling. His heart raced like music in his ears, his mouth tingling from the rough sensation of the scales. His own desire was a growing, heavy knot just below his stomach. He clenched his legs together in an attempt to hide it.

It wasn't successful. William was watching him, perched on his elbows. He flicked his fin against Sherlock’s side, reaching down. He palmed Sherlock’s crotch, his eyes glittering.

“Your body intrigues me.”

Sherlock’s breath hitched. It felt absurd to feel embarrassed, but his cheeks still flushed with heat.

“Tell me why that’s happening.” William’s voice was soft. His fingers twitched, and Sherlock gasped.

“I think you know,” he managed to murmur. Because surely he was not the first sailor this mermaid had studied anatomy with; he was too skilled for that.

“I don’t,” though the smirk at the corner of William’s mouth said otherwise.

“You.” Sherlock couldn’t help pressing his hips into William’s touch. It didn’t relief the need at all – it made it worse – he could feel each of William’s fingers pressing into him. “This. I’m aroused.”

That smirk widened. William pressed a kiss against Sherlock’s cheekbone. He kept his face close, his lashes brushing Sherlock’s skin. He kissed against his jawbone, whispered against his throat: “Can I see?”

As if Sherlock could argue. His fingers dug into the fish scales underneath him. He nodded, his hair falling into his face. William brushed it back. Sand stuck to his bare chest; to his fingers; he found the tie of Sherlock’s trousers. They fell open, and William eased them down. Exposed Sherlock’s need. He watched William’s expression, as he examined it. The interest and the satisfaction and his own desire.

His fingers stroked down his length, lightly; Sherlock’s hips bucked like a donkey in response. Those fingers went lower, exploring. Researching anatomy. That was what they’d said. The reality of it made Sherlock whine with arousal, his heart racing.

William’s tail flicked against him in answer. “What now?”

“Now—” Sherlock tried to smirk. It was hard to, when his heart was racing in his ears, and he was leaning over a mermaid on the beach. When this felt like something from a erotic fantasy novel. “You show me yours.”

But William was smirking back. The lower part of his tail twisted between Sherlock’s legs as he pulled him closer. Water droplets sparkled on his collarbones like diamonds, and Sherlock pressed his mouth to them.

And the studying, Sherlock thought, truly began.

*

They’d lain on the sand together, afterwards. Sherlock had lay with a mermaid on his chest, toying with his damp, dark locks. It was hard to catch his breath; his pulse still drummed in his ears, as constant as the tide. It lapped at his legs – his trousers were still undone – at William’s tail; the water was cool compared to the sun above them.

“You’re a fine sailor,” William murmured. He nipped at Sherlock’s collarbone, and he hoped that it would leave a mark. Then he would have a souvenir that this had happened.

“And you must be a troublesome mermaid to your brothers,” Sherlock replied, stroking his fingers through William’s long, golden hair.

William chuckled. “As enjoyable as sinking ships is, I much prefer this.”

Sherlock didn’t quite laugh. It had been easy to forget what William was – what he said mermaids did – whilst they had been wrapped up in each other. Now, he felt a shiver up his spine. He was laying with a predator; a killer. Perhaps he was in danger all over again.

But as it grew dark, William slipped back into the water. His brothers would be missing him. He left Sherlock on the beach, with a long, final kiss. He heaved himself to his feet, his clothes heavy with sand and sea salt.

At least it was a full moon. He spent the night re-building the signal fire; spelling ‘SOS’ on the beach. There were plenty of bone-dry leaves that created a thick, dark smoke. He sat on the beach, pressing a finger against his mouth, and remembering William’s. Remembered kissing the gills on his ribs. Remembered going lower, and discovering the secret of how mermaids procreated.

Useful, scientific insight, he was sure. Though he had been distracted by William’s beautiful face. Had been distinctively unscientific when that pretty face, with that pretty mouth, had pleased him, red eyes glinting up at him in amusement.

William came back. They continued their anatomy research. Lay against the rocks together afterwards, and Sherlock told William stories about London, and England. William told him of underwater palaces, and he was sure that he was being teased.

Eventually – after two days of surviving off coconut milk and seared fish – Sherlock’s ship found him. He was welcomed back on deck and told he was a very lucky man. Sherlock smiled back at them all, because he could see a red fin disappearing into the waves. A lucky man, indeed.

John hugged him. Tight enough to squeeze the air from Sherlock’s lungs.  He pulled away.

“I’m so glad we found you!” he cried. “The men all told me there was no hope, but I—” John ducked his chin to his chest. “I wouldn’t let them.”

“Thank you, John.” Sherlock caught his hands, squeezing them in his own. Another sailor put a blanket around his shoulders – his shirt was torn, and he was consistently sprayed through from the ocean. His shoulders and cheeks had burnt from laying in the sun. “You’re a good friend.”

John’s cheeks were pink, and his eyes shone. He kept grinning back at Sherlock.

“I’m really alright,” he said, as they were led across the deck. Bedrest, the Captain was saying – Sherlock needed lots of bedrest, and a proper stew, and a good measure of rum. “I survived.”

“Of course, you did.” John stayed by his elbow. Of course he would, and Sherlock was glad to have him back. “It looks like you got your adventure after all, Sherlock.”

His mind conjured up William’s red eyes and sparkling scales. The way he’d tugged Sherlock’s hair when they lay together; his tail wrapping around him.

He smiled back at John. He knew he couldn’t say what had happened. They would call him delirious – and maybe he was. William would have to stay a secret. So, instead he said, “Oh, absolutely.”

After all, he’d found his new species.

And maybe, he’d see William again, one day.

[buttonmillipede]

Lego monkie kid

｡ﾟﾟ･｡･ﾟﾟ｡ ﾟ。Mk x gn six eared S/O °❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

　ﾟ･｡･ﾟ

💞 !romantic!

Ok, so to explain this.

S/O has six ears like macaque but they are not a monkey so they just have six elf ears that can hear from miles away.

I also wanna mention the S/O acts like macaque before he was k worded by sun. (if you don’t agree how I think he acted before then that’s fine)

i’m bad at writing so sorry 😭

MK 🏵️

When you first met

Well..he didn’t know about your ears at first, but to be fair you did walk into pigsy with your ears covered.

He did get a little confused how you knew certain things and how you knew when someone was around…so to say the least he didn’t really understand you.

But he did appreciate you because you got him out of doing stupid stuff. (you also saved him from getting kidnapped a LOT)

You 100% jump scare him at least once.

He loved how theatrical you were very much a theater kid but sometimes he doesn’t really understand your sarcasm 😭 (autism I don’t take criticism) 

But oh boy when he first saw them he was mesmerized by them…..it kinda freaked you out by how quiet he was.

“Mk….are you ok?…mk…mk…hes broken…..MK!..”

“Huh! Oh im so sorry i didn’t mean to stare”

“do you not like them?”

“what no! I love them, you look so beautiful-”

“Mk calm down I was just teasing”

Blushy boy 🤭

When you start dating

Lots of cuddles and when I say lots I mean LOTS.

My man is touch starved.

He also does this thing where he whispers into his hands…..which looks weird when you see him doing it, but he does it because he knows you can hear him….you can tell he’s saying something cute or dorky cause you will just a be bright red or you would be struggling to hide your smile.

sometimes he does accidentally yell a little bit too loud, or brings you into loud spaces but right when you mention it, he will immediately help you and apologize.

10/10 boyfriend material 🫣

He has nicknames for you

Starlight and

plum (oh shit- 😨….can you tell what ship I like? 😭)

When he introduced you to sun Wukong 👀

Well it was…interesting…

 Sun was immediately put off by you and tried to avoid talking to you.

Mk was confused.

And you were being…well you.

At the end sun didn’t mind you but would never wanna see you again, you gave him far to many flashbacks.

When you meet macaque

OK so I can see this going two ways.

Either he tries to manipulate or he hates you so he tries to put you down (before season 3)

 he even calls you his little warrior throughout the 3 seasons which MK wasn’t the happiest about since..yk 😭

But your snarky and stubborn ass will beat that edgy monkie man’s ass.

 he projected onto you a lot 😒

After season three, I could see him trying to avoid you, but after a while, he will come back.

I could honestly see you guys becoming friends the overdramatic theater kid duo. 

~End~

Sorry if this was short im honestly really tired, if you want to request me im open to anything.

[slowthinkingreader]

The Claw of The Conciliator - Gene Wolfe

(Started May 27th, 2024, finished June 6th)

Monkey men! Green men from the future! Huge alien men! Robot guys from the future, maybe! There is, above everything, no shortage of strange and multitudinous guys in these books. There is no ink spared on the matter! Every man Severian meets is cool as hell; the women...

I shouldn't have waited several weeks to write my review of this book, clearly, but frankly, the latter part of it left a sour taste in my mouth and I've been stewing over how I feel about it. I think there's something very skillful going on with regards to what's happening with Severian in this book with regards to his misogyny and his relationship to women, and I'm interested in seeing where it goes (even if my presentiment is that it's not going to be very interesting to me) but at the same time, I'm finding it hard to look past the misogyny as I read, and to enjoy thinking about what the book has to say about it. Mainly, because Severian as our narrator is so disinterested in the internal lives of women unless it revolves around him, the effect is that I just don't care! To me, that's boring! I'm bored of Jolenta and Dorcas being nothing-characters treated like nothing. But then, that's also what the book is about.

About men... I like the contrast between Severian as complemented by Jonas, and the Severian we're stuck with after he leaves the narrative. The book spends a lot of time showing how much they care about each other. They help each other. Severian looks up to him, clearly, and considers him a good friend, and some part of their relationship is also tinged by the fact that Jonas appears to be much older than Severian, who is still (implied to be? Explicitly? Unclear if I missed a detail) very young. There's a feeling to their relationship that is partly mentorly slash brotherly. Jonas doesn't quite bring out "a side" of Severian that is "better", if you will, but in the absence of women he appears kinder, and less tinged with so many complications regarding what he wants. It's clear that what he wants from men is community, regard, belonging, etc.; from women he expects other things, mostly the high of lording power over them. It's pleasant in a way these books haven't been since the earliest chapters of Shadow, where he's (notably) surrounded by other men of his guild. When we lose that sense again, it's frustrating, in a way that's both interesting (in the sense that it feels purposeful) and sad.

I am DEEPLY interested in the fact that he appears to share a mind with Thecla now. Possibly the most interesting thing to have happened so far. I don't know why I didn't expect this to happen when we learned about the corpse-eaters, but it's so good. It's so good. The moment where Thecla inhabits his body in the prison/waiting room, walking in the dark, and a child "mistakes" his steps for a woman's? Could talk about this for ages. I want to take a transgender hammer to this whole concept but I'll abstain for now; I don't know where this is really heading. Possibly nowhere. The book doesn't seem interested in questioning the border between what is Severian and what is Thecla, at least not purposefully enough, and maybe that's not where Gene Wolfe is taking things. I don't expect it, but it would be incredibly sick if they merged to the degree where they can't tell which thoughts belongs to whom; some real dissolution of personhood. Let Thecla eat HIM, in their beautiful mind palace, right back!

There's a lot of moving players now. Agia. The Pelerines. Jonas. Vodalus and his bitch wife, eating corpses. The autarch has appeared and he's up to something, whilst looking androgynous. The lovecraftian horrors are real and BRIEFLY ON LAND, trying to lure Severian down there with them, in what was (in my opinion) one of the better scenes of this book. Hethor appears everywhere; he's implied to be terrifying, because the things he says and does are terrifying, but I actually love him; his comedic timing is too good, I can't hate him for that. Agia tries to kill Severian for a third (?) time. The Claw of the Conciliator is very useful, even if it's very ominous to me.

What else. I don't care about the play in the middle of this book, unfortunately. Or the story about the giant. I can't follow it at all. I don't understand how it fits into the narrative so far. In all honesty, I'm getting a little fatigued from trying to figure out what's happening on any of these pages. Even though this might be intentional, I feel like I get faint hints at bigger pictures moving around and if I paid more attention I would enjoy them better, but I also don't care enough about them to do so. I have a certain disdain for works that demand your attention to the point where it takes you out of the actual work itself, just to entertain an idea which is not interesting enough to be explicit about in the first place. It's not rewarding to me. I'm not sure how else to put it. I get tired of these games!!

Very mixed feelings on this book. Needs more Jonas. 5/10

[quietbluejay]

Ghost Warrior 1

This is not a great start, it's basically like a codex summary of the Ynnari's deal/Eldar's deal with gods my first impulse is to call it out as bad writing but honestly given the steep learning curve of some of the other books, I'm wondering if I should give it a pass

even in an Eldar book I can't escape the Guilliman simping

like, I like Guilliman as a character you all know this lol but because of that I think he should be clowned on more perhaps literally where are the Harlequins when you need them okay finally we get a mention of Yvraine she's on a fetch quest for Guilliman oh okay we're not even going to split for a separate chapter we're just going to cut to new scene sloppy so we go in media res to the Ynnari vs Nurglite daemons OH COME ON make up your mind what you're going to do with your narrative voice we jump from third person limited to third person omniscient WITHIN THE SAME SCENE unfortunately the third person omniscient narrator is the guilliman simp so I am afraid

while I charge McNeill with the crime of purple prose I charge Thorpe with the crime of being up his own ass I'm getting flashbacks to bad fantasy I read as a kid/teen okay, on a prose level, this is better than McNeill's earlier stuff, and even some of Abnett's it's when you go one level up that it's actually worse this is your opening when you want to grab your reader don't switch third person limited POVs after 3 paragraphs and then jump back to third person omniscient to do a lot of tell not showing it's jarring, it drags the reader out, and it ruins engagement, it'd honestly be bad anywhere in the book but it's most egregious to have it as the opening i can really see why people would zone out and just not be interested in reading there's some decent ideas in here but they're not being presented well

every time I see someone talk about Abnett as being great I roll my eyes but, he can actually write something that grabs you, as clunky as his prose might be at times this reads like Thorpe is phoning it in, tbh

GOOD QUESTION yeah. this book is just going to be a slog worse than A Thousand Sons oh hey, it's Iyanna! She was great in Valedor, I wanted to see more of her i fear that may have been a monkey's paw

we are on page 2 of the Iyanna introduction and it wore out its welcome BEFORE we got this egregious tell-not-show

it KEPT GOING after this too Valedor was the PINNACLE of good Eldar writing compared to this not saying Valedor was that bad, just, it needed some cleanup

gahhh bite bite kill kill her relationship with Althenian in Valedor was beautiful and bittersweet and now

this is not my beautiful spiritseer

this is not my beautiful wraithlord man i love reading warhammer novels i've been exposed to so many new and fun varieties of bad writing McNeill, Abnett, ADB, Kyme, Thorpe… all good writers are alike, but all bad writers are bad in their own way (for clarification i do not think all good writers are alike it's a bastardization of the anna karenina quote) so Iyanna got distracted visiting statues of her family in the spirit world with her spiritual body actually, huh, how does that make sense lore wise, she's not in the infinity circuit which she does pop in on in Valedor iirc her real purpose is finding a spirit stone her going through the old hermit dwellings is some of the better writing this book has had so far, and this would have been a good place to start the chapter there's more dialogue between Iyanna and Althenian that sets my teeth on edge on the topic of hanging out too much with the dead and finally we're back to Yvraine maybe, this time, we can actually have a chapter with normal pacing and no third person omniscient interludes this is, at least, the most beginner-friendly BL book I've read we just dipped into a brief explanation of Ahriman and the TS's deal the omniscient narrator can't help but editorialize shush

see this would make sense if we were in Yvraine's head here, but we're not! we are now on page 3 of telling not showing again I'm getting a headache guhh we don't need a play by play told by narrator of stuff you can just read in codices I'm ngl some background is appreciated but this is like the worst possible way of doing it tldr it summarizes Ynnari vs Ahriman we had (checks) seven pages of summarizing this irrelevant sidestory stuff now is not the time to wax poetic about tzeentchian daemon looks FINALLY we're back to actual story and maybe a legitimate character moment as the Visarch wishes Yvraine cared about the other Ynnari a bit more

okay, this is actually cool

so. finally. yvraine is through the portal. MAN does BL need to hire an actual editor and not just pay someone the lowest amount possible to scan for SPAG

Okay, I did snort

Eldar, everyone funnily enough i have a transformers comic image precisely for this situation

he forgot to cherish it because of this it's become a running gag with my beta and another friend that the giant portal from transformers eats things that I can't find. like my swiffer. (Dark Cybertron was w i l d. Maybe I should also post commentary on it some time. never4get the evil giant isopods)

yet more of this gav has really been writing the eldar dropping like flies and also this whole hopping out again! okay this is decent Yvraine activates the Rose of Isha and it wraps her in a thorny loving embrace and she reopens the portal with the Rose using her life force

I see the Visarch is our comedy relief

Visarch: I can't leave you people for five minutes

"hi hi"??? really??? anyways now the battle turns in the Ynnari's favour annnd we're back to Iyanna she bonds with a bonesinger about the trauma of the tyrannid attack iyanna falls for l'appel du vide and tries to take off her void suit but gets stopped at the last minute i am only 16% of the way through this book and only the thought that viewers like you are depending on me is getting me through this

i do enjoy these little crumbs I am receiving though tldr these two talk about Ahriman and how they keep losing people in their vs Chaos battles

here we go i guess oh it's back to Iyanna wait okay Iyanna has the Spear of Teuthlas, that's not the same one Yriel had right lexicanum says they're entirely different

oh great, two twins that finish each others sentences i just went through two pages of this dialogue and we're not even done this conversation Iyanna also thinks about Slaanesh getting buried under the souls of the dead the only thing that brings her joy okay finally we are at the council you know what after i finish this I think I'll do a reread of Valedor to get the taste of this one out of my mouth so Iyanna is getting sent to this mysterious craftworld that appeared out of nowhere because she might have relatives there finally, the plot begins well okay tbf this is less setup than Know No Fear but at least that was actually engaging

Chapter 6: Iyanna uses her seer skills to send her mind through the webway in search of Eldrad

Eldrad POV Eldrad, are you sure that's not just you?

okay, we have timeline! so I guess they didn't edit this book to match the edited timeline for Dark Imperium I'm also sparing you all yet more tortured and boring prose because if I posted everything I'd just be screenshotting the entire book

this is a weird way to put it and also well "either you die or you die" like shouldn't your mindset here be different from the Imperium?? either it's a game of survival every life sacrificed is a tragedy or it's "we should sacrifice ourselves for a greater goal"

if this was the POV of an Imperial character, it would not feel weird or out of place at all, it would fit seamlessly not to once again shill for Valedor but I think Valedor handled it better because it didn't have people reflecting on this kind of thing it showed their sheer focus on survival but also the scale of what was lost and dreams of better days and when it came to the treatment of humans and other species it was basically "I don't think of you at all" like re: humans it was "ugh they ruined this beautiful maiden world but they all got eaten anyways, whatever" "the problem is now that the tyranids are going to use what they absorbed from the humans and that will be bad"

this is something that could be good annnd we spent how many pages on setup for this conversation before we switch POVs to the Visarch he doesn't like seers so he goes to chill at an aspect shrine only to find everyone at every one he visits hates him so Khaine is big mad I guess that the Visarch broke up with him

and the whole room clapped at his epic burn I'm getting flashbacks to that bit in A Thousand Sons

[allthingsfook]

I'm gonna keep this anonymous cause personal but not really hehe!

I am a 21-year-old woman who's 5'5 and with light brown hair, fair skin, and Brown/green eyes (they change color in different lighting). I have a little mole (beauty mark) on the left side of my face, kind of full lips, and where little to no makeup daily. I'd say my body type is mid-size (192 lbs and I can fit into M/L/XL so it's hard to tell) and I'm not too curvy.

I'm an Aquarius Sun, Virgo rising, Capricorn moon, and Venus in Aquarius. My hobbies are painting, drawing, and any kind of visual art. I love rock music, both old and new, and will sometimes listen to folk music. I'm entering my fourth year of college as an Arts Management Major and Comm minor (still got a way to go till I graduate cause shit's expensive) and ideally would love to be a part-time artist and work in PR or Journalism.

I come off as shy and particular with a little stubbornness, but as you get to know me I open up and will laugh with you and share things I'm passionate about whether it's big or small. I will always try to hide my emotions around you and if we are really close you'll be able to get me to talk about it cause you know how I try to mask it all.

Extra facts: I love cats, I love pasta so much it's what I eat the most, I am a caffeine addict, and I have never dated anyone.

Who would you ship me with?

Sorry if this was long 😬

Hiiii!!! I am so incredibly sorry this has taken me this long to get through my inbox, BUT good new is…. You are last, but MOST DEFINITELY not least!!! I won’t make this drag out any longer, so lets jump into it!!

I ship you with….

Daniel Robert Wagner

Let’s start with the zodiac compatibility… Both Capricorn’s and Aquarius’ are intentional with their love lives. You are cautious, yet open-minded. You take time to build a trusting relationship, and slowly approach each other’s vulnerabilities and insecurities together. Danny would be the best partner to help you through that. He is incredible patient and kind. He would wait as long as you need him to for you; just to feel safe with him. He’d assure you along the way, not only with his words, but with his actions. Once all the walls are broken down, you’d share a stable and positive life.  

With the foundation of your relationship being extremely strong, it’s easy to see how the rest of it can fall into place. Your hobbies are things I could easily see Danny eager to do with you. Clearly Danny is a very talented man, not just with drumsticks in hand… maybe a paint brush or marker. He’d jump at the chance to hunker down into a cozy corner of the house with you, skim through pages of an activity book and color you a purple monkey. He’d hold it up to you like a proud 1st grader and sport a cheesy smile. You’d giggle and tell him you love it! I could see you discovering an old rock song one day. Playing it in the shower, the car, and around the house. Danny would recognize the tune and quickly learn how to play it on the guitar. One night while he is playing around, he’d start casually playing that song. You’d slowly catch on and begin dancing around, singing the lyrics with him. Those are the moments he would live for with you. So innocent and playful. Just what he needs after years of rigorous touring and creating.

Danny, per usual, would be extremely supportive when it came to your education. He’d understand the need to take things slow or even taking time away from it. For someone who didn’t have to go to college, he’d seem to know a lot about the woes of it. Or maybe he is just that insightful to your feelings. He’d be your biggest cheerleader on the days you get stellar grades. Then he’d be your shoulder to cry on when things get tough. No matter the circumstance, he’s always going to stand beside you. When you do complete your academics, he’ll be blushing over you. Showering you with reminders of how far you’ve come and how smart you are. When you are ready to step foot into a career, Danny would be hyping you up on social media, and getting your name out with his contacts. We love a supportive man!!!

I suppose it is the Aquarius in you that identifies with being shy and stubborn. Definitely a few things Danny would be able to handle. Compared to the other boys, Danny is certainly a little more reserved. That may be the very thing that unites the two of you when you first meet. He’d notice you behind your drink and subtle smirks over the obnoxious gal in the room. Once the two of you have been together for a while, he’ll get a taste of that stubbornness. Again, Danny is so understanding and not very quick to temper. He’ll have his ways of taming you. Not in a dismissive or demeaning way either. He’d be kind and understanding. Giving you reason and words of affirmation. Once you come back down to earth, your passionate, loving, beaming soul will shine again. The very reasons Danny would love you!

To address your tid bits:

Danny would adopt any cats you may have now, and if you don’t have any (or want more) I could see him coming home with a tiny kitten in the palm of his hand with a bell on it’s collar. He’d insist on naming it something like Ludwig or Ramone.

Danny would also love a good bowl of pasta. As I am sure you know, he is a great cook and the minute you beg for a pasta dish, he’ll be in the kitchen boiling it up.

Danny would share and feed into your caffeine addiction. If that is in the form of coffee, he’d always be making early morning coffee runs. Greeting you with a cup in hand.

And finally, Danny would be so accepting and understanding of you not being in a relationship. He’d agree to take things slow and guide you through everything. His want for you to feel comfortable and safe is so profound. You will quickly understand how deeply he would care for you!

Alright!!! I so hope you are happy with this ship! As always, let me know what you think! I always love to hear back!!!!

[alittlebitoftruthcan]

All democracy is fake, all ideology about freedom, freedom of speech, is fake. All hope that someday man will become human seems to be a far away utopia. I have always believed in non-violence, believed in peace, but after this world tour I have to confess to you that I cannot believe in peace and non-violence any more. I have been against the Third World War, but with great pain I have to tell you that perhaps the Third World War is needed. This humanity is so rotten that it should be destroyed, at least the world should be cleaned of ugly human beings. Existence must find some other way to evolve human consciousness. Scientists say that there are fifty thousand planets in the universe where life exists. So if on this tiny earth life disappears, there is no harm. This kind of life is not the life of man. Darwin was absolutely wrong that man has evolved out of monkeys—man is still a monkey. Perhaps he has fallen from the trees, that’s all. Not evolved, but fallen. My effort from today will be just to work for those few individuals who want to grow into meditation, into peace, into silence; and I drop all hope for humanity and all hope for this planet. It is in ugly hands and it is impossible to change those people because they have all the power. Even in my own country… just yesterday as I entered I saw, written at the airport, ‘Welcome to India.’ I had no luggage, I had nothing to declare except myself, and still I had to wait for three hours. And I asked again and again, ‘What kind of welcome are you giving to an Indian? I am not a tourist.’ This ugly bureaucracy, these ugly governments, these ugly religions, have spoiled a beautiful planet. I have called you simply to say that I am utterly disappointed, disillusioned. I will live only for those people who are individually interested to evolve. As a humanity, there is no hope. Only one thing I can hope—the sooner the Third World War happens the better. Let us be finished with all this garbage.

Osho (The Last Testament, Vol. 6)

[mrschwartz]

okay hi. i hate being succinct (like someone that starts with alex and ends with bitch) but here are my summarized first thoughts on the album

mirrorball: hooked me in from first listen when it was released as a single, that repeating motif underneath the whole thing, the melancholy that seeps from the music and the lyrics, those strings at the end and alex's falsetto spat in my face and called me a bitch. 9.5/10

i ain't quite: it's good, it's a good song. the "waaa" harmony def scratches an itch, and the best part of the whole thing is "the spare set of tingles will race up your spine if i get it my way" but it kinda feels like it's building towards something that never quite delivers nvjdnjdnf maybe that's the intention. but you know. it's good but my least fave so far. 7/10

sculptures: WHAT IN THE HOLY FUCK IS THIS. god jvfnjdkjkcnfjnfj i'll never ever forget the first time i listened to this. my jaw was on the fucking floor. the instrumentals are orgasmic. fucking period. it made me cry And made me horny. alex's vocal delivery and the lyrics paired with the music give me such a pleasant eerie feeling if that makes sense. "gasp [gasp!] and roll your eyes" is so vndnjfnfjnjf and i'm fucking incoherent towards an indie rock British band Arctic Monkeys (tm) song having an honest to god bass drop. never ever thought this would be a direction they'd be interested in but i'm so glad they are. 10/10

jet skis: i've only had this song for a day and a half and if anything happened to it i'd kill everyone in this room and then myself. the funk-ish blues-ish tone of the guitar is my best friend. alex's voice is a warm hug. the lyrics are sooooo bittersweet. this is the one that stuck with the most after my first listen (along with sculptures ofc), "jet skis on the moat / they shot it all in cinemascope" (with the instrumentals underneath!) is such an earworm. 9.5/10

body paint: body paint. how do i even begin to explain body paint. alex's voice is really impressive in this, the chorus and the solo in the end fucking scalp me every time (also loved it from first listen as a single like mirrorball). the lyricssssssssssssssss kill me. i'm a sucker for the persona/character/double life thing, i've said it a hundred times lol so i'm def biased towards it. the only thing that keeps me from giving it a 10 is that they gave me a taste of what a full on out of the water true rock n roll outro sounds like in the live shows (esp the brussels one) and they took it away from me here, but i do understand why it's more subdued in the studio too as it fits the overall vibe of the album more. so. 9.5/10

the car: if this song was just the folk-ish fingerpicking (GOD THE FINGERPICKING) and drums motif it would still be amazing but they went beyond. FOR US. that distorted guitar at the end paired with the haunting strings is very climatic. i def still need some time with the words to maybe get closer to what he's getting at but i love them! 9/10

big ideas: i love you big ideas i love you. the piano stabs and the darker strings (cello and double bass) particularly stand out to me and tick me in such a specific way. god i can't. i've talked about the lyrics (it's been like a week and i already have matured my opinion on them nfjnjfvn) which are heartbreaking in a beautiful way. the crunchy guitar solo is heavenly. alex's chuckle after "we had them out of their seats" shot me right between the eyes. 9.5/10

hello you: oh why hello tlsp song what are you doing around these parts jnjfjnfvjg that keyboard thingy that opens it and that appears again in the chorus (how i wish i knew music theory lol) is very pleasing and the guitar backs it up beautifully. ALEX'S VOICE;;;; def a stand out in the album (esp "why not rewind to rawborough snooker club" godddddddddd). i also need some more time with the lyrics in this one to get more what's he's talking about here but i have my theories and they're devastating fvjfvnjgn. 9.5/10

mr schwartz: finger fucking picking man. but surprisingly my fave part about this track are the drums! i love how retro they sound. reminds me of some sort of specific 40s-60s vibe i'm not well versed enough in to pinpoint exactly what it is or what it'd be called. def bossa nova but not Just bossa nova you know? the lyrics are about the persona/character/double life thing so yeah yeah ofc i love them and the way they break my heart. great song. 9/10

perfect sense: this song sounds like a goodbye. need i say more????? "if that's what it takes for me to say good night then that's what it takes" what a fucking Gorgeous melody my god. this one also sounds like it had the potential to crescendo into a grandiose orchestral solo moment in the outro and then it didn't, which i'm still scratching my head about but i'm not that mad about it, bc in the end it's just such a sweet sweet tune (bittersweet, but more sweet than bitter i think). i love the way it sounds i love the way it makes me feel. they just get how to do closers man, they do! 9.5/10

[messa-messilla]

The boy at Casa Loma

Walucas/Wallace Wells x Lucas Lee fanfiction - Part 3

(art made by me)

Summary : As they go to they second hang out, Lucas realizes he's starting to feeling things…

Author note : Hi buddies !! Sorry for this one taking kinda long, i kinda took a break on writing this :/. I'm really proud of this chapter thought !! This one as lil bit more of angst, but it's fine i guess lol

Chapter 3 : Love ?

“ - Baby Yoda- Uh i mean, Tiger, do i look good enough ?”

Lucas was waiting at the kid park for at least a quarter of an hour, not because Wallace was late, but because he came really early, just in case something don’t goes as he planned. He prepared everything carefully, because he really wanted this hang out to go well, and he clearly wanted to make a good impression in front of Wallace. Baby Yoda, (or Tiger as he called him in public by pure fear of being judged as nerdy), his Rottweiler, was looking at his owner, as he seemed to wish that nothing goes wrong. Lucas was checking in all directions, to see Wallace when he’s coming to him, which finally happened :

Wallace came closer to him, waving his hand, smiling brightly at him, making Lucas smile back.

“ - Hi Lucas !”

He looked below at “Tiger” :

“ - Aww, hi you !! Can i pet that little guy ??

- Of course, you can pet Tiger !”

Wallace petted the top of “Tiger’s” head, as he barked with happiness.

“ - He’s so cute…”

Wallace raised his head, and looked around him :

“ - What about we start to walk out of here ? I’m not really interested in kid slides.”

Lucas chuckled :

“ - Not even in monkey bars ?

- They might be too low for me !!

- Then let’s get out of here !”

“ - Tiger seems to enjoy this walk…”

Lucas looked around him.

“ - …But why is the weather still snowy and so cold ?? This is ridiculous !! Isn’t it, like, April ?”

Wallace chuckled :

“ - It’s Canada man !! Get used to it !!”

His face turned towards Lucas’s :

“ - And also, i also enjoy this walk too. I enjoy spending time with a talented dude, and his cool dog !”

Lucas looked the other way, to hide the fact he was blushing.

“ - Good for you…”

As they walked further, a little white and blue butterfly flew around them.

When he noticed it, Baby Yoda tried to catch it, but didn’t even touch it in the slightest. And when the little insect quickly flew further than him, the other way around, Baby Yoda INSTANTLY followed it by running in the most sudden way.

“ - What is he doi-”

Lucas tried to keep his hand on the leash, as the dog runned faster, in some random direction, and he ended up following him.

As Lucas got far from him, Wallace also started to run, trying to catch him. Both of them didn’t even know when the dog was going to stop this infernal race, or even where he was going.

“ - Tiger !! You should have stopped running when i told you to !!”

When Baby Yoda finally stopped this crazy car chase, they ended up in… An amazingly beautiful place !! It was in some park, with a gigantic tree, and the greenest grass you could find (surprising when you think about how cold the weather has been recently), the lights that reflected on this place were heavenly !

“ - Wow… I like this place…”

Wallace layed down on the grass, close to a tree, happiness landing on his face, peace spreading on his mind.

Lucas looked at this man, he didn’t really plan to stay anywhere, he just thought he was going to walk his dog, with that man that he seemed to really like… But he wasn’t against laying down for a moment.

He shyly got close to Wallace, and sat down, with awkward movements.

His hands caressing the grass, he slowly layed down on it, and felt really great. His head slightly turning around, he took a look at Wallace… He really liked laying down peacefully with him.

Wallace looked at him back :

“ - So, for how long have you been Tiger’s owner ?

“ - For some years already, he’s really nice, and i really like him, we get along extremely well !

- That’s awesome !!”

When Lucas took a look at Wallace, he seemed to think about something really hard. Lucas was intrigued, Wallace never seemed to think about something with such a serious look, he always seemed chill and relaxed.

“ - May i ask…

- Yeah ?

- How is life as a celebrity ?”

Lucas was really surprised, and kind of speechless… Nobody ever really asked him a question like that.

When he thought about it… He was actually really worried about this subject.

But to whom did he ever have the chance to speak about his problems ? His family ? He rarely ever speaks to them. His personal managers ? They don’t care. His friends ? He doesn't have friends at all. The league of evil exes ? He’s not really close to them. Wallace ???

Wait, Wallace…

“ - Well…”

Lucas got up a bit, sat down, took a deep breath, and started :

“ - You know… It’s not really easy.

Even if i look confident… I’m enduring a lot of stress with the making of the movies, if i’m really acting correctly, how i’m going to look when the movie will be done, what people will think of my performance… And i feel like i get put on a pedestal by people for seeming strong and confident, and that they don’t seem to understand that i’m not always… As strong as they think.”

When he stopped to talk, Lucas sighed, more relaxed. What he was talking about made him sad, but he really felt relieved and less heavy, now that he confessed to someone that he, for some reasons, feels like he can actually put trust in.

Wallace looked like he couldn’t believe what Lucas just said. His eyes were wide open, showing his surprise.

Silence settled between them for a moment, it was a confusing and heavy silence.

Lucas didn’t know what to do at the moment. Did he say too much ??? Was he too annoying ??? Were his feelings not believable enough ??? Is he too weak or exaggerating too mu-

“ - Damn buddy…

Words cannot really describe how much i feel sorry for you.

Lucas felt… A little more great. It was great he found someone who was willing to listen to him.

“ - My guy… Did you ever think about getting any type of psychological help ?

- Isn’t… Isn’t that for weak people ??”

Wallace got up next to him, took Lucas by the shoulders, and looked at him straight in the eyes with a serious face :

“ - Asking for help isn’t weak, Lucas, it’s very strong.”

Wow, Lucas rarely felt reassured that much… Someone actually cares about him… That’s great, wonderful even !!

“ - Woah dude, you clearly have a great way with words.

Wallace chuckled :

“ - Thank you !”

Lucas took an instant to think, maybe he’s right… Maybe he should get some help, and not just stay silent about his problems…

“ - You know, i’m going to think about this psychological help thing… Thanks for being here, Wallace.”

Wallace blushed :

“ - Eheh, you’re welcome.” He said, as he cleverly winked at him.

They both laughed out loud together, as the sun shined on them, chasing away the cold.

“ - Damn dude,” said Lucas with despair “ now that the weather isn’t cold anymore, it’s extremely hot !!

- Ahah !! Get used to it man !”

They were walking to where they met for this hang out, accompanied by Baby Yoda (of course, they wouldn’t forget him and leave him alone). They stopped when they finally got at the meeting point, as all the kids had already gotten back home.

“ - Okay, “ sighed Lucas sadly, “guess it’s time i let you go back to your home, and that i go back to mine…”

Lucas thought, what excuse could he have to see him again as soon as possible…

“ - What if i invited you to the film set where i’m recording tomorrow ? It’s at casa loma again !! “

Wallace looked at Lucas right in the eyes with a shocked expression :

“ - Wait, really ??!

- Of course !! I could even bring you lunch !!”

Wallace seemed delighted, Lucas clearly didn’t fail his take !

“ - Thank you so much !! That would be so great !!

See you tomorrow buddy !” He bent down and gave a pat on Baby Yoda's head, “Goodbye Tiger…”

Lucas let confusion go to his head for a few seconds, and then finally decided to admit, now that he knew he trusted this man enough :

“ - Actually… His name isn’t Tiger…

- Ahah, what ?” Wallace said as he rearranged his hair.

- His name is Baby Yoda..

- Why didn’t you tell me ?” chuckled Wallace, staring at Baby yoda, as this one turned around, trying to bite his own tail.

“ - I didn’t want you to see me as weird, and nerdy…” Lucas replied, scraping the top of his head, embarrassed.

- It’s okay ! I don’t mind if you’re weird or nerdy, that’s cool !

You’re just silly, but i like you for that ! See you tomorrow”

Wallace blushed and quickly walked away, as Lucas started shivering with his cheeks getting redder than ever. He hid his face in his hands, flustered… But surprisingly happy ??

“He called me… Silly ??!”

Lucas has been slumped in his sofa for half an hour now, and multiple thoughts were rushing in his head very FAST.

“What the hell am i feeling ?? Why am i feeling this ?? Is it because of him ?? What does he feel ?? What does he think of me ?? Why does he care about me like that ??”

As panic rushed through him, he glared at Baby Yoda.

“ - Baby Yoda, do you know why i’m feeling whatever the hell i’m feeling ???

- BARK BARK (translation : gimme food b*tch)”

Lucas moped into the sofa, pressing his face deeply into a pillow, like a teenage girl having a sentimental crisis.

Wait… Was it what he thought it was…

“- Baby Yoda ???”

Surprised, the dog stared at Lucas, who just took his head out of the pillow, as his cheeks were red.

“ - Do you think i have… Feelings maybe…

- Arf ?”

Lucas did his best to sit correctly in the sofa,

took a deep breath,

and exclaimed :

“- Do you think i’m in love with Wallace ???!!”

Silence just stayed between them for a good minute.

A whole minute of staring at each other, while Lucas was thoughtless, speechless, wordless.

A whole minute of confusion, that felt like millions of minutes.

A minute that ended with Baby yoda just turning around and trying to lick some dust on the floor..

Lucas suddenly stood up, his fist tighten and his eyebrows frowned out of immense seriousness, He rushed to the kitchen with athletic speed, and got out of the lockers and drawers a lunchbox, food, and cooking utensils as quickly as he could, and started cooking.

“ I’M GOING TO COOK HIM THE BEST LUNCH POSSIBLE FOR TOMORROW !!!”

It was decided : Lucas was determined to IMPRESS his crush !!

Author note : I like the idea of Lucas Lee being a Star Wars fan.

And like, his childhood dream, plus of being an actor, would have to have a role in star wars lol

[tyrannosaurus-trainwreck]

I’m halfway through a goddamn Katya/Sofia fic thanks to this stupid meme edit and I feel like I made a wish on the monkey’s paw. >:(

Katya had been maybe sixteen when she realized that most men wouldn’t waste an opportunity to explain something--anything--to her.  She knew why, of course.  Her mother had been practical about Katya’s beauty.

“We’re all brothers and sisters under Stalin--” You never knew who was listening, even at home. “--but you have a chance to get a seat closer to the head of the table, if you marry well.”

Explaining things gave even nervous and shy men an opportunity to demand her attention, to keep talking to her.

It had been the thing that first set Goncharov apart, when she’d met him.  He’d been ambitious, even then.  Cosmopolitan, clever, driven.  The import business was lucrative, but dangerous.  Give the wrong person too small a bribe, smuggle too much of the wrong thing, come back a little too comfortable with capitalist decadence... there were many ways to fall, doing what Goncharov did.  You had to have balls and brains both, and from what she knew he was doing it well. She’d thought he could be a useful contact to cultivate.

“Do you really need me to tell you?” he’d asked, when she’d feigned ignorance about something. “Or is it that you want me to tell you?”

It hadn’t been a transparent ruse; she hadn’t wanted him to think her an idiot.  But he’d been watching her as she’d been watching the rest of the room, seen her weighing up her options, charting her course.  Their positions had been reversed enough times in the years since--he’d known what she was up to because he’d been up to the same thing.  She could see him even now, in her mind’s eye, looking at her and thinking what a pretty, fashionable, social-climbing wife could do for a man in his position.

Katya had been older when she’d recognized, with a startled flash of gratitude, that it worked with women, too.  There’d been a freedom in the exercise of that power that she reveled in, a freedom that wasn’t there when she talked to men.  She’d felt like a god, like a hypnotist, like a witch from a fairy tale.  When it was another woman, she could give anything, take anything, and the next day, it would all be like it had happened in a dream.

It was a technique that worked even better in sun-drenched Naples.  Katya barely had to thicken her accent, to make her phrasing a little more stilted, and men would believe practically anything.  She could point to a fishing boat and say, “And what is that?” and they would trip over themselves explaining the ocean to her, as if perhaps they didn’t have maps and ships in Russia.  It had paid dividends so far around her husband’s new associates--they were careless of the things they said to each other in front of her, provided they said them in Italian.

Sofia was not careless, and Sofia wasn’t in a great hurry to explain anything to Katya, and when the day’s business was done and Katya had a moment to herself, she found that it made her want to tear her hair out.  Or perhaps Sofia’s hair. 

That would at least break the glacial calm on that porcelain face, bring some expression into those dark eyes.  And it would be very satisfying, getting a great fistful of those raven curls and giving them a good hard pull.  Sofia might even make some noise, if she did that.

Katya had met commissars with less self-possession than Sofia.  If the Italians hadn’t proven themselves inveterate chauvinists time and again, she’d have suspected Sofia of being one of Ambrosini’s assassins, though Goncharov had told her they did things differently here.

“They have a system,” he’d said, when she’d told him she didn’t trust Andrey around him. “Like a machine.  If a man wants you dead, the word passes from one man to another until it gets to a man he’s never met, and you’ve never met.  That’s the man who kills you--a stranger.”

It was uncivilized, apparently, to kill your own enemies.  Katya wondered if they made love the same way.

Katya thought of giving someone a kiss, letting it pass from mouth to mouth until it came to Sofia from a stranger.

“How do they know why a man is dead?” she’d asked. “How do they know who ordered it?”

Goncharov had spread his hands and shrugged, mimicking Andrey’s response whenever someone brought up too many specifics for his taste. “They simply know.”

There was an art to it, in Russia.  The giving of absurd alibis, the witnesses who were mistaken.  Everyone saw a man or his right hand walk into the home of his enemy, but then when the police came no one had seen it after all.  Enough money was paid, and then the police stopped asking.  People knew to take you seriously, that you weren’t someone to slight or to cross.  People knew there was fire in your blood, that you’d come for them.  They knew what it was over, too--after that, they stayed away from your woman, or your money, or your family.

The Italian way seemed little better than putting it in the hands of their fickle god.  She might as well go into one of the cathedrals and pray for Sofia to kiss her.

“You’re sulking,” Goncharov told her one morning.  She hadn’t been sulking, but she still didn’t trust Andrey, and he was coming over after breakfast.  Goncharov forgot sometimes that she could watch him, too. “I’ll call Mario and have him send Sofia over.  She can drive you to the market.”

“And get what?” she asked.  She was sulking now, just a little bit, because she didn’t like being accused of sulking when she wasn’t, and because she didn’t like the eddy of excitement and disappointment swirling in her belly.  She could ride in the back while Sofia drove and look her fill.  She could make Sofia carry her bags and translate for the merchants at the stalls.  She couldn’t make Sofia pay attention to her.  She couldn’t make Sofia look back.

“Whatever you want.” His gaze went to the flowers in their vase at the center of the table, bright, beautiful things unthinkable this time of year back home. “Something you’ll remember, if we can’t come back again.  Something to write your mother about.”

Katya stopped sulking.  Goncharov was right to keep the possibility of being recalled in mind.  There were others who wanted what they had, and it was easier to bend an ear when you were there in person instead of basking in the Mediterranean sun.  The Italians had a fickle God; she and Goncharov had a fickle Party.

“Fine.”

By the time she had finished dressing, Sofia was waiting on the front steps.  Andrey couldn’t help but stare at Katya when she swept past, that thing she didn’t trust pulling his eyes tight under his thick brows as Goncharov kissed her cheeks.  Andrey clasped her hands lightly, a combined greeting and farewell, and the band of her wedding ring shifted under his grasp.

Sofia checked her watch instead of staring when Katya came to the door, and Katya wished petulantly that she could show the same level of detachment.  Sofia was dressed well but not extravagantly, and Katya couldn’t help but let her eyes trace the shift of Sofia’s muscles, the sway of her curves, the toss of her hair.  Katya had dressed well and extravagantly, all reds and golds against the bright white of her dress, and Sofia found the scratched glass face of her wristwatch just as compelling.

It was infuriating.  If Sofia had been Russian, she’d have understood what she was doing.  Katya could have done something about it, if Sofia at least understood.  They could have fought in the street.  Katya could have slapped her and torn her braid and called her something indecent in front of everyone.  Katya could have made Sofia hate her, if nothing else. 

But no--the Italians did things differently.  Katya would just look like a barbarian, and Goncharov would have to smooth things over if they wanted to keep the rubles flowing back to Novorossiysk, and it would either be like it hadn’t happened or retribution would come out of the blue, from nowhere.  To not even have the luxury of Sofia’s anger--it was intolerable.

Katya envied the wind that tousled Sofia’s hair on the drive to the market.  She should stop making a hell of paradise and tell Goncharov to ask Mario for a different driver.  Mario had insisted, when they’d taken the house.  The roads in Naples weren’t like Russian roads, he’d said.  They needed an experienced hand at the wheel.  And it was better for business to make sure the driver was discreet.  Mario would arrange for drivers, as their friend. 

Katya thought that he sent Sofia to drive them because Mario hadn’t been able to take his eyes off her that first night when they’d met over dinner, and he thought that what he couldn’t do, no man could do.  Mario didn’t want trouble, not the unpredictable kind of trouble.  Not over a driver.  Katya didn’t know if it was because Italian women didn’t know how to love or if it was because Italian men ignored love affairs between women the same way Russian men did.  Or maybe Mario just knew Sofia.

The market was drowsy and quiet when they arrived, and Katya tried to imagine what the streets in Leningrad looked like now.  It had been such a long time since she’d been home.  There wouldn’t be flowers now, she was certain of that.  Her gaze fell on a patch of vivid red.  Or pomegranates. 

She remembered the first time her mother had given her one.  She hadn’t known the trick for opening them yet, but she’d wanted the seeds so badly.  She’d ripped it open with her hands, precious tart juice staining her nails and running down her arms.  Her father had laughed and called her his little lioness before giving her a knife to do it properly.

Katya hesitated, hand resting on the plumpest one in the pile.  There had to be limits to even Sofia’s stoicism.

“What sort of apple is this?” she asked, picking it up and turning it over.

“Apple?” Sofia asked slowly.  She was probably trying to decide if Katya had said the wrong word or if Katya was playing a joke on her.

A joke, of sorts, but Katya would never admit it. “Da.  What sort of apple?  The skin is so thick.  Do you need a special knife to pare it, as you do with your cheeses?”

“It’s not an apple.”

“Then what, if not an apple?” Katya tossed it in her hand, demonstrating its firmness.  A persimmon of the same hardness would be vile, completely inedible.  Her gold bracelet flashed on her wrist as her hand moved.

“It’s a pomegranate.”

“A what?”

“A pomegranate,” Sofia repeated, irritation creeping into her voice.

“What do you do with them?”

“You cut them open and eat the seeds.”

Katya picked out a half dozen and paid the boy minding the stall.  After that it was easy enough to keep going.  She knew what Goncharov would like.  Fresh white bread.  Some sort of exotic hard cheese ripened in caves by the sea, made with the milk of goats fed on herbs and sweet grasses by the same family since the time of the Romans.  Jam from fruit that you couldn’t get in Moscow, wine that tasted like herbs grown in the sun, flowers that could fill a room with their perfume. 

Time was fleeting, and fortune was more mercurial even than God or the Party.  What point was there in denying yourself when someday the memory of past pleasures would be all you had left?  She and Goncharov understood each other in that respect.  They understood, too, that there were things a person could do to put a thumb on the scale and maybe keep fortune by their side longer.

“What sort of wine does Signore Ambrosini like?”

“I don’t know.” Sofia shrugged around the bags. “He doesn’t drink when he’s conducting business.”

Katya had a moment to think that it was perhaps Sofia’s turn to play the game, then dismissed the thought.  Sofia’s attention was already on the next stall.

“Not even when things are concluded?”

“No.”

Katya tried to imagine it.  It was a bad idea to get too drunk, even once things were agreed on and the papers were signed.  Tempers could get out of hand, words misunderstood.  But not drinking at all would be like spitting in a man’s face.

“Doesn’t that get in the way of doing business?” she asked.  How could a man trust a business partner who wouldn’t even drink with him?  A man who thought he was too good to share your vodka would never honor a bargain with you.

“Not that I’ve seen.  It’s more professional.” Sofia shrugged again, paper rustling at the movement. “He doesn’t say anything he doesn’t mean to say.  Keeps his temper.”

Katya shook her head at that.  Perhaps being bred in the peninsula’s warmth let the people cultivate a certain cold-bloodedness.  If they tried it in Russia, they’d freeze solid and break apart like a sheet of ice on a window pane.

[martianbugsbunny]

OUAT Thoughts Pt.29--Episodes 16-17

I have watched through S3E17; spoilers DNI. Also, spoilers warning for anyone further behind than I am.

—Bae’s death was a knife wound. Bae’s funeral was twisting the knife, adding salt, and dunking me in a vat of lemon juice. Everyone who knew him put dirt on his grave—including his son and Hook. Hook is what really gets me.

—Oh, wait. Not everyone. Rumple didn’t even get to be there. That destroyed me. Rumple did everything to find Bae, and still Bae died and Rumple didn’t get to be at his funeral. That’s so fricking unfair.

—My feelings on Regina and the Wicked Witch are b*tch (affectionate) vs. b*tch (derogatory). Regina shows up for their magic duel wearing black, red gloves, and perfect lipstick, and I’m all, “Yes, Queen, look fabulous while you duel 🫶🙌💅.” Zelena spends time getting dressed up for the duel, and I’m like, “Girl, stop being so petty and dramatic, what’s your problem.”

—The last thing Regina needed was a bratty older sister. When it comes to parents, neither of them really got a great draw. Each of them got one decent parent and one really crappy parent. And it’s not like Regina asked for or wanted the life that Zelena is so jealous of—but Zelena is so self-centered, she would never even consider that. I get the feeling Zelena would be an enthusiastic participant in the Trauma Olympics.

—But she got hers. Turning green because she’s jelly of Regina is a hilarious twist.

—Oz is a gorgeous set piece. I don’t know, or care, if it’s actual decor or CGI, it’s absolutely stunning. Gold and vibrant green are just mean to be together.

—While Oz itself is beautiful, I’ve actually found the Oz characters to be disappointing. So far, all we’ve got is the Wicked Witch, the flying monkeys (who barely even count), and a rather fleeting, meaningless encounter with the Wizard. While I do usually love the intertwining of multiple stories with each other, it feels like Oz needs more structure and world-building on its own. Having more of the characters present as their own entities (the Scarecrow, the Tin Man, Dorothy, the Cowardly Lion, Glinda, and that’s just off the top of my head) would have been more rewarding after the long buildup for Oz.

—I’m quite pleased to see the silver slippers. Yeah, the red shoes are iconic, but using the OG silver is splendid.

—I love how Hook gives zero hecks and wears his pirate clothes in Storybrooke. Everyone else wears clothes appropriate to the environment, but Hook is still 99% pirate. (The other 1% is the fake hand he attaches instead of his hook.)

—That one time he wore a knight-like disguise in the Enchanted Forest was a very good moment for him. And for me. That outfit was gorgeous on him.

—Blackbeard was a rather generic pirate. Now, I don’t expect he’s ever going to come up again, at least in any significant capacity, so that’s fine, but he could’ve looked more intimidating. If even Hook is going to be somewhat afraid of him, he should look like the beefiest, wickedest, meanest pirate on the high seas.

—I adore Ariel for preferring swimming to walking. One of the things I hate most about OG!Ariel is that she acts like walking is for some reason superior, even though she’s never frickin tried walking in her life. OUAT Ariel has done both, and now she’s made an informed decision. Not to mention, mermaids having realm-crossing superpowers makes her preference logical (although preferences aren’t always, and don’t have to be).

—Eric’s cloak with the Ursula clasp is dope.

—Just when I thought Hook couldn’t get any angstier, now he has extra drama with Emma. And the word “yearning” has canonically been used to describe his feelings for her, so….

—Rumple being reduced to a slave to Zelena’s whims is killing me. Regardless of which side he fights for, he’s always been a beautiful, lively, crafty, witty man. He’s easy to root for because he’s almost larger than life, because he has complexity and intelligence and vitality. And now he’s been brought so low, and that eternally-entrancing spark in his eyes is gone. While his posture usually reflects his self-confidence, now his back is bent and his shoulders are hunched. Zelena has taken an uncannily bright man and destroyed him. I need somebody, anybody, to rescue him, because the worst part is, nobody can even be there for him because Zelena makes him dangerous. It’s all or nothing, and the nothing he has right now scares me.

—His powers of future sight are terribly inconsistent. Which is easily explained by the difficulty of interpreting the future, but still—how did he not see this coming?

—Regina’s method of training Emma is rather amusing. Also the fact that Emma just had to be extra in her use of magic.

—Poor Snow. She has not only a stubborn husband, but also a stubborn daughter, teaming up to try and build a crib. That baby will be safer sleeping on a table *jk* *don’t leave babies on tables*

—This entire town needs to schedule family therapy sessions with Archie. Sister-to-sister, couples, stepdaughter-to-stepmom, and Henry can have a great-uncle to great-nephew chat with himself. Really, though, these people might consider having conversations instead of internalizing everything and becoming evil. Just a thought.

[brighth0pe]

12:43 P.M. the next day...

Through her lab the scientist Rikako sitting in her desk using her computer studying the creatures she created through the usage of the new horrific virus made with both the blood of Yoshika and Yukari specifically and with the mixed with the ebola virus creating the virus she and her associate Yoshika have called the Kiyonshi virus named after the Japanese romanization of Jiangshi the virus is far more powerful strain of the jiangshi virus giving birth to a new race of undead monsters and bio organic killing machines bred to wage a doomed war known to be Kiyonshi and each Kiyonshi is studied and examined through the monitor to ensure the plan of spreading the disease all over the world after reclaiming china is successful.

" Alright, every specimen in their containment is safe and ready now let's document before shipping the creature in their shipments... "

Through the screen she sees the first and most common of the infected. The kiyonshi. The undead more stronger and built to take more blows than a regular zombie. Not even the horrors of makai could kill them so easily as these creatures will be born through the fog variation of the virus. The kiyonshi just bang on the hard glass while moaning and groaning while a few in the back are just standing there walking around as necrosis begins taking place. Some of

" yes of course these creatures will do just enough damage for all who isn't undead. horrors are no match for the might of these dead ghouls of the night... "

She turned her head towards other screens seeing the other batch of abominations in containment. These creatures while are not undead, they're far more dangerous and all sorts of lethal than the kiyonshi. They're all a batch of mutations by the virus she call neo kiyonshi. Monsters mutated by the virus be it from an animal, a human or a plant the virus will altered the said organism into a monstrosity far beyond recognition as the virus mutagenic potential is sometimes at random. But NEVER zero. However in the creation of these creatures some of these abominations are man made using the DNA splicing of animals while others are subjects to be experimented on.

" Ahh yes arachnophobia, the fear spiders. These gigantic and horrid tarantulas and wolf spiders will be the stealth predators of the new world. No doubt that these creatures will inflict not only the least amount of damage but also to inflict fear... ~ "

" Dogs. Man's best friend and now man's worst nightmare. Nothing I can say about these beautiful and pitiful beasts. "

" DNA splicing is no easy task but it gets the job done. Either you have a beautiful perfect hybrid or an ungodly abomination. I say the creatures regardless are all in the same family. This one is no exception... "

" In Yoshika's kingdom a king is no king without an army or without punishment and there's is no such thing as punishment without the executioner. My gift to you friend may this one serve you well just as the last specimen.... "

" Stated before a king without the knights is no king at all for the knights will come and wreak havoc upon your enemies be it horror or the pitiful living. Took me hours to fashioning the armor however. "

" These primates are a pain to get them under control but it's worth it for they are of great use you, to inflict massive damage and to wreak havoc. As you say, serious monkey business.... "

" Ahh yes! Here comes the bringer of death and mayhem! These are the ones who're built to activate hunt and shred horrors to bits! They're my favorite. Though I'm sure you do not play favorites but I do.~ "

" Stronger, faster, and much more in the lethality category these are the nightmarish tall beings that will crush and rip you apart if you look at them funny. "

Once Rikako finishes studying and examines these abominations she begins to call in the rest of her team for transport to send the abominations loose once the reclaim of china has been security. She is eager to let these monsters loose into the world just to watch it all gone to hell.

" Prepare for transport.... "