#this seems like a garbage fire so far

[skysiren41]

Having Jumba replace the role as the villain instead of Gantu and removing all the depth and nuance of his character is honestly one of the worst things ANY of these remakes have ever done (aside from completely ruining the whole message of the film)

Yes, Jumba was a mad scientist but he was anything BUT evil in original film. He was chaotic, egotistical, and at times completely insane yes but he also showed moments of humanity and genuine remorse like when Nani asked where Lilo was after she was captured. I'd even argue that him deciding to help Stitch in the climax so easily is actually pretty in character of him. He wasn't really an evil person, he was chaotic but had a good heart deep down

As the series went on he became more humble and even he and Pleakley became sort of father figures to both Stitch and Lilo. Hell in the second film, we see just how desperate he became when Stitch's begins malfunctioning to the point where his life is at risk. That moment in the end where they all think Stitch had died and Jumba takes him out of the chamber and he just hugs him is legit one of my favorite moments in the entire series. The whole second movie showed just how much Jumba truly cares for Stitch and considers him and the others as family. Also his and Pleakley's dynamic being one of the best parts of the original with how well they bounced off each other (we stan for the gay alien uncles here)

But in the remake it's genuinely uncomfortable and gross just how far it goes out of it's way to make Jumba as irredeemable as possible. I'm sorry but the Jumba we all know and love would NEVER intentionally burn the pictures of Lilo and Nani's parents, the only things they have left of their parents so happily, and he would NEVER treat Stitch so horribly to the point where he tries to stright up erase his empathy. Yes in the original film, he and Stitch's fight in Lilo's house caused it to blow up but that was completely by accident on BOTH of their parts, they weren't actively trying to blow it up on purpose. Even when he was trying to capture Stitch at no point did Jumba actively tried to hurt Lilo (aside from just gently pushing her away when she was hitting him with the broom during the fight) hell one of his most iconic lines "THIS IS LOW EVEN FOR YOU!" Is said when he realizes that Stitch is basically using Lilo as a shield

Also before someone says it yes, I'm well aware of the alternate deleted scene of Jumba attacking Lilo's house where he's a lot more violent and sociopathic. But 1. It was cut and re-edited so the original cut of the scene isn't really canon. And 2. The reason why it was removed was not only was it considered too violent, but it made both Stitch and ESPECIALLY Jumba too unlikeable and irredeemable. Jumba and Pleakley were always intended to help out in the climax, so having Jumba be redeemed despite how he was more than willing to straight-up shoot Lilo during the house attack didn't sit right. Jumba was NEVER intended to be as cruel as Gantu, but they decided to make him EVEN CRUELER than most modern Disney villains in this remake

Removing all of Jumba's nuances and making him a mustache-twirling bad guy so you can force him to take Gantu's place isn't just character assassination, it's complete character annihilation. It's easily up there as one of the worst examples of character assassination I've seen since Velma. Also I think it's REALLY suspicious that they removed an antagonist who was a bad cop and was fired for his repeated brutal methods and putting innocent people in danger, made the SCIENTIST the main villain to the point where they made him more of a monster then the cop

I'm sorry for the multiple posts on this film and if I come across as more angry then I usually do, but I'm just so appalled with how much they bastardised one of my favorite films of all time, as well as one of my favorite characters in said film. I'm at least glad that everyone seems to agree that this film is a pile of garbage

[himasgod]

How about butler floyd x maid reader?

BUTLER! FLOYD X MAID! READER

Where you both serve for the Ashengrotto Manor

Where you can't help but notice Floyd's presence whenever you're doing your tasks, following you like a shadow, trapping you in his game.

You clutched the basket tighter against your chest, the smell of lavender soap clinging to the pressed linens inside.

Mr. Ashengrotto had told you to deliver them to the west wing, and as far as you could tell, you hadn’t taken a wrong turn—

Until a movement caught your eye. A reflection in the ornate mirror at the far end of the hallway.

He was already behind you.

“Lost again, Shrimpy?”

The voice curled around your spine. You didn’t need to turn.

You knew that voice by now. The smooth drawl that could switch from lazy amusement to cold menace in a heartbeat.

You turned anyway slowly.

Floyd Leech stood just a few steps away, dressed in his perfectly tailored butler uniform—gloves pristine, cravat neatly tied, not a single wrinkle out of place… except for that gleam in his heterochromatic eyes.

“You always seem to end up where you shouldn’t be,” he said cocking his head.

“I’m not lost,” you replied. “Mr. Azul sent me.”

“Oh~? Then I guess I can’t eat you after all,” he pouted, stepping closer, the heels of his shoes clicking on the marble floor. “Boooring…”

“Eat—? Please don’t joke like that,” you said, backing up instinctively until your shoulders brushed the wall.

Floyd’s smirk widened, and he planted one hand beside your head, leaning in.

“I’m never joking, y’know.”

Your heart thudded in your ears.

It had been like this from the first day.

Every other servant at Ashengrotto Manor had warned you about him in whispers.

The tall twin. The unpredictable one. The reason half the maids quit within the month.

And yet… he never actually hurt anyone. Just hovered too close, teased too sharply.

Dangerous in the way fire was—fascinating and warm until you reached too close.

“I’ll be late,” you murmured, trying to sidestep him.

His arm shot out to block you, and he chuckled.

“What’s the rush? Scared of being alone with me, Shrimpy?”

“Maybe I just want to keep my job.”

“Oh?” His voice dropped, close to your ear. “Then don’t be so fun to chase.”

You shivered. Not from fear.

Over the next few weeks, it became a game.

One you didn’t know you were playing until you were knee-deep in it.

He’d appear at odd times. At dusk in the halls. At dawn by the kitchens. Sometimes leaning in a doorway like he had nowhere else to be. Sometimes watching you from the second-floor balcony, idly chewing a licorice stick with a smile.

Other maids avoided him like the plague. You didn’t have that luxury.

He found you.

He’d call you Shrimpy like it was a name no one else had earned.

Tug on your apron strings as he passed by.

Ask you questions that weren’t appropriate, and watch too closely when you struggled to answer.

But sometimes he was quiet.

Like the night you found him in the ballroom. Alone, sitting on the grand piano.

You hadn’t meant to interrupt.

But he looked up, and said, “Come here.”

You obeyed.

He didn’t tease. Didn’t leer. Just patted the bench beside him.

“You ever think,” Floyd said, “about what it’d be like to run away?”

You blinked.

“Run away?”

“From here. From rules. From all this boring stiff garbage. Would you do it?”

“...Only if I had someone to run with.”

That made him pause. And then he grinned.

“Careful, Shrimpy. Say stuff like that, and I might start getting attached.”

And he night everything changed, it was raining—of course it was.

You were delivering towels to the third-floor bath when you slipped on the wet stair and yelped, the basket crashing to the floor.

Floyd caught you before you hit the ground.

One hand wrapped tight around your wrist, the other pressed firmly to your waist. You stared up at him, breathless, soaking wet.

“What the hell were you doing alone up here? Soaked? With this rain?” he hissed, voice unlike anything you’d heard from him before.

“I—I was sent—”

“No one’s supposed to be up here. Azul knows that—!”

You’d never seen him angry like this. Not play-anger. Not teasing. Real, visceral emotion.

He pulled you upright with a jerk.

“You scared the hell outta me, y’know,” he muttered. “I heard the crash and thought—”

“Why do you care?”

For a second, Floyd was silent. No smirk. No sing-song tone.

Just the sound of rain and your heart beating.

“Because you’re not boring.”

Your laugh escaped before you could stop it—wet and broken and ridiculous.

“That’s your reason?”

Floyd leaned back just enough to look you in the eye. “It’s the only reason I need.”

You stared at each other. You shuddered a little. You couldn't say you liked him, or anything, or even that being around him gave you any positive feelings.

But it was like an escape from the repetitive life in that damned mansion. And you liked being in that game.

So you couldn't stop when he kissed you before you could reply—sloppy, and strangely sweet. Not demanding.

When he pulled away, you were both soaked and breathless and trembling.

“I’m gonna keep you. Even if I have to scare off every other butler and maid in this whole damn place.”

You stared.

“You’re insane.”

“And you’re stuck with me.”

You never did deliver those towels.

Mr. Azul scolded you the next day, but not too harshly.

You had a feeling he knew, how wet clothes ended up stripped off in his room and wet sheets tangled around you that night.

Floyd was unbearable after that—louder, clingier, more possessive than ever.

But every now and then, when the manor was quiet and the rain began again, he’d press his lips to your neck and whisper:

“Still wanna run away?”

And you’d whisper back.

“Only if you’re coming with me.”

[phyrestartr]

Divine Favour | Sukuna x Kitsune!Reader (Pt.4 | END)

W/C 7.2k #NSFW, male!reader, top!reader, bottom!sukuna, ABO elements, heian sukuna, typical kitsune shapeshifting, jp mythology, canon typical violence, morally grey reader, unhealthy relationships, questionable relationships, power imbalance, ABO elements, gojo/megumi/yuuji/nobara cameos, yuuji/megu/nobara are early 20s, sukuna is controlling/possessive/obsessive, rough sex, not edited enough (oh well) Note: It's finally over (dies like Noctis)

tags: @kamote-kuneho @kamote-kuneho @nyanwko @kamote-kuneho @better-imagination-9 @3zae-zae3 @chibiduck @kiiyoooo @lukaijah @memedealer-exe @f0th3rr @boretheral @cicithemess @paastaboi @someone0vx

“Google says kitsune are usually attuned to one of the thirteen elements,” Nobara prattled, scrolling through the random Japanese mythology website on her phone. “Itadori, what's his element, huh?” 

Yuuji pursed his lips, face growing deadpan as he thought and quickly realized he had no clue.

“Uh…” 

Nobara grimaced. “Useless.” 

“Hey, I didn't know they were all, y'know, elemental-y, okay?! Jeeze!” 

Megumi sighed and shook his head. “We're supposed to be keeping an eye on him, not arguing about garbage you found online.” 

The two country bumpkins followed Megumi's gaze to where you snoozed under a tree. It felt a little strange seeing you donned in one of college's spare uniforms, but you seemed quite pleased by the modern take on fashion and aesthetic. Yuuji wondered if you'd take to modifying the plain, black clothes the way you'd done so in the past.

“Oi, kyuubi!” Nobara called as she wandered in your direction, much to the chagrin of Megumi. “I got a question for ya.”

You spared her a sleepy glance before sitting up and stretching with a wide, toothy yawn. It almost took the three aback, seeing how sharp and distinctly not-human your teeth were.

“You and everyone else, evidently.” You hummed and combed your tail with your fingers. “Speak.”

“Is it true that your kind are, like, elemental or something?” 

Megumi sighed as he rolled up beside her. “She means to ask if kitsune are elementally-attuned, whether it be to fire, water, earth–that sort of thing.” 

“I literally just said that!” Nobara hissed as she smacked Megumi's arm. The raven didn't react in the slightest. 

“Yeah!” Yuuji piped up. His face grew red as soon as your lazy stare flicked to him. “I-I, uh–like, y'know, fire. Or…you talked about fire?” 

“You are so tactless. It's starting to get sad.” 

“Can it, Kugisaki!” 

You smiled. “It's true, more or less. I was taught my sort usually falls into one of the thirteen elements: celestial, wind, spirit, darkness, fire, earth, river, ocean, forest, mountain, thunder, sound, and time.

“Then, there are the broadly ‘bad’ sort, nogitsune, and the ‘good’ sort, zenko. Most say only zenko reach total divinity, but that's not always the case.” 

“Yikes, so the bad kitsune can be gods too?” Yuuji asked as he sat down with you and pulled at the grass idly. “Isn't that, y'know, bad?”

“Gods are all inherently bad, as far as I'm concerned,” you said.

“Gojo-sensei mentioned you were one,” Megumi offered as he and Nobara sat, too. “A god. The people revered you.” 

You snorted and covered your mouth the way you might have if you had the long sleeves of a kimono to aid you.

“They didn't mind me. I don't think they particularly liked me, considering what company I kept.” You hummed and straightened out your sleeve. 

“Yeah, but…you're not him, so what's the point in hating you?” Yuuji asked, and you couldn't help but feel more weight and worry behind the words. 

“I don't care what they thought of me. I only cared about what the palace residents thought. They were my family, in a sense.” 

“Even Sukuna?” Megumi asked. 

“That's such a stupid question, oh my god. Boys are so stupid,” Nobara said with a deadpan.

You smiled, though, and kindly still answered. 

“Especially Sukuna.” 

“Hey, hey! Sorry for the wait!” Gojo called across the field as he made a show of sauntering on over before teleporting in the blink of an eye. “So? Are we all–oooh, are we gossiping?”

“What, no?!”

“No.”

“No.” 

Gojo pouted. “My students always leave me out. Thankfully, my sweet, pious, precious (Name) is nice to me!”

“You're late, Satoru,” you sighed as you stood, tying back your chopped hair into the tiniest of ponytails. “What is the reason?”

Gojo whined and trotted up to you, rubbing and petting your ears to bring you back to his side of the issue.

“It's not my fault! All the higher-ups are sooo annoying and yap sooo much!” He shuffled behind you and played with your three lush tails much like a toddler would. “Who's a good boy? Who's a good boy that's not gonna get mad at the Gojo Satoru?” 

You sighed and flicked your ear, thwacking him in the forehead with it. “Let's not waste any more time, cretin.

“What're we even doing, Sensei?” Yuuji asked, rubbing the back of his head after raising his hand like he was in class. “You didn't really tell us anythin’.” 

“Yeah, I thought we were just watching the fox until he had to go back in his cage,” Nobara said, arms crossed and expression sour. “Seems kinda stupid. He's not even a threat.” But Yuuji knew there was little truth to that statement.

“I'm guessing the meeting was about relocating (Name).” Megumi looked at Gojo. “So what's the plan?” 

–

The five of you walked endlessly through the vast forest surrounding the college. Your gaze traveled up sky-scraping trees, admiring the ancient song of life only you could hear through the soil and air. Wind danced across the verdant canopy above, scattering beams of molten sunlight across the forest floor and dappling the shoulders of the sorcerers before you with golden kisses–a sight you so sorely missed from your tenure at the palace. 

The land was not crying here. You'd heard the distant sound from the concrete jungle resting far below the rise of the college, and it shrouded you with jaded confusion and contempt for what had been done to the world in your stead; if you'd been smarter, wiser to the plans of one, could you have prevented this? Or were humans simply inevitable with their evolution? Perhaps it was up to the Earth to find the yang after the yin.

“Okay, this is it!” Gojo called, snapping you from your rampant thoughts. 

You looked to where he gestured, and found a simple building. It was reminiscent of the college in its design–modern, but clearly inspired by traditional architecture–and it looked fairly new. A bell attached to a rope stood at the forefront, as did a well for mortals to throw their offerings before ringing the aforementioned chime. Beyond that, the shrine lacked character and decoration. It was a clean slate. 

You blinked owlishly, and tilted your head. “This is…?”

“A shrine! For our new on-campus god! How fun is that, huh?” Gojo smiled, proud for a reason you couldn't decipher. “You get to make it home!” 

The younger three all deadpanned, looking between each other, trying to parse if their teacher was delusional or just being a menace to society and doing this behind the council’s back. Honestly, it was up in the air. 

“I–is that even–” Megumi tried, but gave up and rubbed his face instead. 

“So…(Name)’s gonna be, like, our resident god, or something?” Yuuji wondered, feeling his heart pitter patter just a little faster. 

“Haha! Sure, if you want to think of it that way.” Gojo smiled and looked toward the blank canvas of a shrine. “In exchange for divine favour, we grant sanctuary. Home. A place to call your own.” 

You didn't say much, but your tails swished and flowed as you stared at the humble abode–your humble abode–and inhaled shakily. 

“I suppose this will do,” you conceded, still too unwilling to give Gojo the satisfaction of knowing he'd touched your heart. “It's a bit stingy, however.”

“STINGY?” 

“Indeed. Now, begone–I have work to do.” 

– 

Sukuna reached for you when he dreamed. He didn't need to sleep, he had no use for it as he was now, but he convinced himself into the realm of the unconscious regardless, searching for the doorway leading to your mind. 

And he tried night after night, day after day, searching and sitting outside the palace of your inner realm once he found the entrance. The door was the same as the one leading to your chambers in your shared home; a simple, sliding door of wood and paper. Beautiful. Comforting. 

He knew the door wouldn't open for him, not yet; he deduced what may have happened, and what that would have meant for you all and himself as a result. He'd have to be patient. Wait for you to let him in to confront him, or seek his comfort. 

But he didn't expect the door to open so suddenly behind him, sending him rolling onto his back and staring upside down at the most magnificent sight he'd ever beheld–a kyuubi, sitting poised across the room, dressed in a haori several sizes too big, waiting with his back turned as candlelight flickered and lulled the room into a lazy, sleepy haze.

Sukuna righted himself and stood, spirit flailing and tearing itself apart in his uncontrollable want for you, for a desire to return back to the simplicity of this time. But he couldn't go back. Maybe he could recreate it. 

“Fox,” Sukuna murmured, excitement igniting the small, human body he'd been forced to mold his soul into. It felt so much worse in this form, his want being so much more fucking unbearable and burning a hole in his damn chest and skull. 

You shifted, head turning the slightest toward him yet refusing to give way entirely. But, then you stood, and Sukuna suddenly understood how you felt in the presence of his overwhelming power. 

You stood tall. Proud. Powerful. Your ears pointed towards the heavens while your tails fanned against the gates of hell when you turned to face that lover of the past, the one you held so dear for decades. 

Sukuna almost felt weak in the knees (or was that somehow Yuuji interrupting his delusions?) when bright red markings caught the light, shimmering in divine sparks of orange and teal in the firelight–and your eyes. Your eyes. They burned with higher purpose. With unreadable certainty and alien understanding. You made Sukuna's gut coil with need. 

“My Sukuna,” you whispered to the room. You took a step forward, and Sukuna eagerly met you the rest of the way. “You look so…small.” 

He looked up at you–yes, up--and admired your face and godly stature and just how fucking tall and unearthly and powerful you were looming over him. 

“Stuck looking like this fucking runt while I'm in his body,” Sukuna explained bitterly. He reached a hand up while he spoke, and you graciously leaned down to let his skin touch yours. 

An ache curled under Sukuna's skin, flushing his complexion with heat and suffocating him in those unbearable sorcerer uniform garbs. His pants strained too tight, his jacket and hoodie made his core swelter and his mind grow fuzzy. It was torture. 

“He looks so much like you,” you drawled, holding Sukuna's face in kind. You hummed with sympathy when he moaned and leaned into your touch, only abandoning his own rediscovery of your features to hold your palms against him, to indulge in everything so wholly you. 

“Forgot what I look like, huh,” Sukuna huffed. “This brat looks like a beaten monkey.” 

“So did you.”

“Hey.” 

“But I adored you anyway, did I not?” 

Sukuna scanned over your face slowly, methodically, wondering. 

“Adore. You mean ‘adore’.” 

“Perhaps.” You smoothed a thumb over his cheekbone. “It's been some time.” 

“You chose me. You belong to me.” Sukuna's lip curled as he growled and forced your hands into his skin firmer as though to leave scars. “Mine. Only mine.” 

Your lips quirked upwards and Sukuna pulled you down to kiss you. His voice reverberated between your linked bodies as your tongue licked into his mouth far enough to nearly make him choke. You kindly pulled him flush against you, wrenching more pleased, needy noises out of him with no effort at all. 

“You're as starved as Yuuji,” you whispered as his hands fumbled with your ornate clothes, yanking and pulling at them with reckless abandon. 

“Shut up.” His grumbling lessened just a bit when you eased your robes open, exposing your perfect skin to him once again. 

“I believe it'd displease you if I stopped talking, no?” You tore the clothing off the other's body as he pulled you down to the floor with him, suddenly so eager to submit. 

Sukuna scoffed. “I–just touch me, fox.” 

It was your turn to purr and keen, basking in the soft tremble of anticipation the all-powerful choked on as he spread himself bare beneath you, your garbs cascading all around him like a waterfall–only you would get to see him, chest heaving, eyes swirling with lust and need, hidden behind a curtain of embroidered flames.

“Poor thing.” You dug your nails into his hips and dragged him toward you, prodding your aching length against his unprepared heat. “You've been so long without touch. Without love. Do you still think it's meaningless?” 

The curse snarled, and you caught him by the throat, pinning him in place and jamming your other hand's fingers down his throat before he could bark back at you. And just that simple torture had the king's hips twitching and bucking, slowly falling into time with the rhythm of your digits slipping in and out of his bratty mouth. 

“F-fuck you,” he gasped once his mouth fell empty. 

You chuckled smoothly. “It's simply food for thought.” You pressed two fingers into him and worked inside with ease despite the crushing heat clamping down around you. You didn't know if his sweet, little body wanted you to stay put or fill him faster. 

“Fuckin'--annoying, shithead, bratty fox–” he cut off with a ragged moan as you pressed against his prostate and rubbed against it slowly, firmly, deliciously. His eyes fell shut and his brows twitched up, a vivid look of desperation and concentration making him look far too vulnerable and breedable for his own good. 

“It's strange,” you hummed, working him a little faster and jamming your fingers against his sweet spot over and over. “I never thought you'd willingly submit.” 

“I need it,” Sukuna growled, fisting his hand around his weeping length and stroking to the beat of your fingers. His hips bucked forward and back, unsure of what searing pleasure to lean into more; luckily for him, you were keen to up the ante. 

Your fingers slipped out and Sukuna snarled, crimson eyes snapping open to brand you with frustration. You felt the whip of desperate commands about to crack off Sukuna's tongue, so you wasted no time filling him back up, stuffing him beyond his limits. 

The man almost gasped, though it could have just been the force of your cock punching the air out of his lungs. You pulled him against you, seating him to the base with a little effort and brute force. You knew he liked the pain. Pleasure was closely acquainted with it, after all. 

“This is what you wanted,” you murmured as you rocked into him. 

The curse didn't know if you beckoned an answer from him, or simply stated the facts. So, he didn't answer you. He instead gripped onto your shoulders to keep himself steady while you effortlessly drilled into his core with each and every thoughtful roll of your hips. 

And it felt good. An uncomfortable, searing stretch accompanied the deep plunges filling him beat after beat. His body tightened and clamped down around you, forcing your length to rub against the weakest, most sensitive spots inside of him–places no one would ever dream of hitting inside the unruly king. None besides you, of course. You were different. Better than the rest. Fit to fuck and fill him if Sukuna so desired it. 

“(Name),” he groaned when you changed up the angle, aiming to rub up against the ceiling of his insides with every thrust. You tortured his weak spot, and made a casual show of forcing his stomach to bulge and distend whenever you bottomed out entirely, and Sukuna reveled in it. He wanted to be yours. Just yours. 

“You're so sweet when you submit,” you cooed, leaning down and nuzzling against his neck as you fucked into him harder and faster. “You should have done so sooner.”

Sukuna should have clapped Back, but he couldn't; he was too busy trying to angle himself to somehow get you deeper. He was too busy trying to pull you closer, to graft his thick thighs to your scar-riddled sides like a branch on a tree. He couldn't spare a single braincell on your arrogant Teasing when all he could think was, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me–

“Now he's lost his voice,” you sighed. “Such a pity.” Your hips hit particularly hard to punctuate, and Sukuna grunted. 

“Again,” he choked out. “Fuck me like that.” 

You branded a smile into his skin with a hum. “Are you sure? I won't stop if it's too much.” 

Sukuna opened his bleary eyes and spied your nine tails fanned out, cloaking the ceiling from sight. It felt like staring death in the face. Maybe he'd been in its clutches this entire time. Maybe he wanted–needed–you to be the end of him.

Your hand found his throat again, and Sukuna nodded as best he could, too overwhelmed and overstimulated to get words out of his open mouth–but grunts and groans had no issue bursting through as you left mercy by the wayside and destroyed him as thoroughly as he requested. You were, after all, a selfless god.

Sukuna's eyes rolled back as his head tilted in kind, mouth left agape as you burned him alive; every push of your body into his lit new fires, and every second you stayed connected, more of his soul exhausted itself before rising from ashes once again. The tightness coiling in his stomach grew unbearable and insatiable, hungering for more and more and more until–

“There's no shame in coming undone,” you cooed, your lips and fangs replacing the hand in his throat and peppering apologetic kisses. “Unravel for me, my love.” 

My love. My love. My love.

“Fuck,” Sukuna gasped. He clung to you, and you raised your head to kiss him, swallowing his strained noises to keep them a secret from the outside world and himself. 

He grabbed at your shoulders and arms as his head tilted back and a hoarse cry left him–just as his body clamped down and sent him over the edge, he realized pushing in and out had become more taxing. Perhaps because of his cumming, or perhaps because of the ungodly thing swelling at your base and ripping him open. 

You worked him through his high, never thinking of pulling away from him when he needed you most. Because this was bound to end. He was bound to wake up and feel cold where your hands now touched. He was stuck in the body of another with no hope of reaching you unless he somehow, some way turned the tables on all those weak sorcerers and broke free. 

But he would. He'd claim his vessel and walk amongst the new world, autonomous and untouchable. It was only a matter of time. 

–

Though Sukuna was selfish in chasing his own pleasure, he soon found immense satisfaction in yours.

The number of times he'd trap you against a wall and finger you until your legs gave out and your voice ran hoarse was too great to count. He couldn't help himself; that bewildered, wide-eyed look you gave him every time you were let go to fix your robes and catch your voice screamed, what was that for? And boosted Sukuna’s ego. He reveled in the glory of being the only one to do this to you, to being the one who forced you to lose composure. 

In his chamber, he indulged further. He'd work thick fingers deep inside of you while his other hands roamed and touched, stroking, pinching and rubbing wherever he deemed needed attention. And you were putty in his hands, absolutely melting into everything he did to you, even if accompanied by a shock of pain. 

Because you were a creature who only knew sex for the sake of bearing children. Beyond that clan using you in an attempt to create half-breed sorcerers, your primal nature influenced you to only seek out a mate for the purpose of bearing children, and not necessarily for pleasure. 

But Sukuna was the opposite. He never thought of siring children. He only thought of pleasure of another's body and the thrill of total domination over them, never the idea he'd suffer the consequences of an heir; he had those women drink a special tea to prevent that for a reason, especially when a handful had come to him, offering their bodies in return for fame and perceived power. 

With you, he could entertain the idea, however. 

Yes, the mere idea of watching you walk around the gardens, properly swollen with his children, with physical proof of his ownership and coupling with you, sparked something akin to greed in his chest. Though it was a little warmer than just that, admittedly.

–

Yuuji liked you. There was no escaping it, no denying it–he liked being around you. He liked your smile. Your tails. Your ears. The way you scared the shit out of him the first time you properly met. You were just…weird. Interesting. Kind of like Yuuji himself. 

But you were kind, too. The times he wandered out to meet you at your shrine to “check up on things,” or because he was bored, he always found you tending to your gardens, talking to the passerby wildlife, dozing at the entrance, and his heart would do something funny in his chest. 

Then his mind would rot until all he could see was you sprawled beneath Sukuna, singing the king’s praises while he fucked you into the tatami and bred you. 

It wouldn't stop there. Sukuna would taunt him, poisoning him with sinful thoughts and diabolic urges:

You think that fox'll give you the time of day? You, a petulant runt with not a shred of experience beyond your hand? Hah. 

Consider it a blessing--you'd probably cum too fast to enjoy him properly. You'd embarrass yourself to death.

I know you think about him when your hand's around your cock. You wish he'd warm it, no? Wish you got to watch his ass take you in? 

Go on, why don't you just try? Fulfill your fantasies! Maybe he'll act the part of a pious, pitying god and throw you a bone. 

Yuuji, for as airheaded as he could be, knew Sukuna wanted to indulge in you through his vessel. Or, he truly believed Yuuji wouldn't be able to hook up with you and live to remember it. Maybe he was right. 

But the young man thought you had a soft spot for him; he wasn't great at reading people by any means, but he thought you always gravitated to him before the others. You always held more warmth in your eyes when they fell upon him, and your preening touch constantly found him, your hands always smoothing out the creases of his uniform while deft fingers fixed his hair and pleated his hood into more attractive folds. 

Maybe your touchy-ness toward him was a culmination of your need to parent something. Yuuji didn't fully understand it, but Gojo mentioned something about you wanting children, but you couldn't have them. Not anymore. And so those urges manifested in other ways. 

But the young sorcerer wasn't so sure anymore.

“My Yuuji,” you cooed when he came to visit. “You're back again so soon. Is everything alright?”

Yuuji smiled and braced for impact, bowing his head the slightest bit to let you bonk yours against his in greeting. It really reminded him of the way cats would welcome each other. Thankfully, you didn't seem too eager to mark him with a dose of spittle, though. 

“Yeah, everything's cool. Just–dunno. Wanted to come see what you were doing, I guess.” The sorcerer shrugged and pocketed his hands after you'd finished lovingly headbutting him.

“Mmh. Well, I certainly don't mind the company.” You smoothed back his hair and fixed the wild flare of one of his eyebrows before stepping away and meandering back towards your shrine. “It feels like something's going to happen soon.”

Yuuji's stomach flipped. “Yeah? You think so?” He followed you, watching the hypnotic swaying of your tails and hips and ass–wait, wait, wait, no, no, no–

What? Am I wrong? Sukuna's voice purred. Looks downright breedable, doesn't he? He said it more like a want than a taunt, this time, like if he were in Yuuji's shoes, he'd jump on you and pick up where you left off. 

Shut up, shut up, shut up, Yuuji chanted, trying to calm down. Don't ruin this!

Ruin what? Your sad attempt at courtship, brat? 

Yuuji said nothing. Sukuna howled with laughter. 

“Natural disasters cannot always be predicted,” you murmured, bringing Yuuji back to the present. “And they can never be stopped.”

The younger frowned and rubbed the back of his neck as he followed you inside. “Eh, I mean…we can stop a lot with sorcery, can't we?”

“And if that disaster is born of sorcery? What then?” You snapped your fingers, and every candle in the room ignited with amber flame.

“Uh…I mean…” He sighed and rubbed his face. “I still think we can stop it. We'll figure out a way!”

You sure about that, brat? 

You laughed, soft and kind, bringing a smile to Yuuji instead of a ticked off frown. You had a way of settling his nerves and relieving the tension from tightly wound muscles. Is this the effect you had on Sukuna? Is that why he cherished you so much? 

“I admire your optimism, Yuuji. Perhaps I should aspire to be like you,” you said. 

Yuuji's face flushed. “E-eh? Wh–no! You're awesome the way you are! And, uh, you're–y’know. You're good!” Smooth. Eloquent. Exceptional.

You hummed and wandered further into the back rooms, allowing Yuuji to follow you to your chambers to relax. “Well, I'll trust your opinion, then.” 

“Okay. Yeah. Cool.” The sorcerer cleared his throat and messed with his hood as he followed your lead, admiring the tidy, comfy space you welcomed him into. Pillows and blankets were plentiful and all bunched together on a futon, so much like the nests Yuuji often saw in his dreams. It felt a bit…intrusive to see it in person. 

“Hey, uh,” Yuuji started, “I–can I ask something?” 

You seated yourself down across the small, simple kotatsu, and gestured for the younger to join you. “Of course.”

The sorcerer sat down across from you. “You and Sukuna. Were you guys–did you ever…y'know.” 

You tilted your head, curious. “Go on.”

“Were you, like, in love? Or something?” Yuuji's face burned red at the words. Talking about love was so damn awkward for some reason, especially when it had to do with Sukuna and the fox Yuuji himself pined for.

“Ah.” You tilted your head the opposite direction, and hummed. “I was in love, yes.”

Yuuji's chest ached. “Even now?” 

“Eternally.” 

“Do you want him back?” 

You didn't answer right away, and the festering pain spread from his chest to the tips of his fingers; of course you wanted him back. Of course you wanted your ancient, all-powerful lover back. Why would you ever accept Yuuji in his place? A weak, mortal being?

Before Yuuji could retract the question, you'd shuffled around to his side of the table and held one of his hands in both of yours. The younger couldn't bear to look at your face, and so kept his eyes trained on your elegant fingers smoothing over his rough, scarred knuckles. 

“I would not trade a soul that walks amongst the living for a soul that has already lived its life,” you said. “Sukuna has lived. And he has died. He may rise once more, but I do not seek to aid it; he chose to die in hopes of living forever. He must accept what his decision brings, as must I.” 

The storm inside of the sorcerer calmed the slightest bit. Sails no longer whipped and frayed; they caught wind and led his heart back to placid waters, though the depths of the oceans could always threaten future treachery. For now, however, Yuuji found safety.

“Man, you really are like Yoda,” He laughed, filling the room with renewed brightness.

You blinked owlishly. “Yoda? What that is, I do not know.” 

Yuuji laughed harder and clasped his hands around yours. “Nah, don't worry about it. It's a good thing, though. From one of the movies Gojo-sensei made me watch.”

“I would strongly advise against taking lessons from that man, Yuuji.” Your brow creased as your hands clutched his in a death grip. “He’s not normal.”

Yuuji grinned, then, and held your hands just as tightly. “Yeah, he's weird. But he's smart, too! One of the strongest guys alive, y'know?” 

“Even the strongest can make mistakes,” you said. “Even the strongest can lose, Yuuji. Always be careful, even if victory is assured.” Your careful touch graced the curve of his cheek. “I would hate for your visits to stop.”

The sorcerer's heart beat in double-time. 

“Yeah,” he said. “Me too.”

–

The leaves crinkled and rustled, flashing shades of amber and ruby in the dwindling daylight. Gone was the warmth of Summer's smile; now, the cold, fierce nip of Autumn cut through the air, whispering secrets about the first frost and what it would do to devastate the green around you.

But you were a god. A creature of fertility and good luck. And so, the grass did not die, and the forest did not wither under the coming winter's threats. 

It seemed your gifts could not reach into the depths of your soul, however. Perhaps you weren't to indulge in the privilege of what you brought the world--the mortal things around you could make use of a blessing from the divine, but could the divine themselves? Could you bring yourself a remedy to your loneliness the way you brought life unto the ground beneath your feet? 

You didn't know.

–

The end of October came, and the world trembled with the force of thousands of lives ending in misery and terror. You beheld it from your home, the sight of the clouds turning orange and red as hellfire devoured all. 

Bless me ‘n wish me luck! Gojo had said last time he swung by. Definitely don't need it, but you're my favourite cheerleader, y'know?

That was not too long ago, perhaps a day prior. Maybe it'd only been twelve hours ago since you last saw him. Three hours ago since you last felt his celestial presence upon the earth. 

“I would hate for your visits to stop,” you murmured, and your chest froze with the cold. 

–

Winter brought with it snow and darkness. Kuraokami had his ways of slipping his icy presence through the slivered cracks of wood grain no matter the time or place; the great dragon would be heard and seen if it was his final act upon the earth. 

Not even you could keep him out, the lesser deity you were. But you didn't mind the company; the cold breaths against your skin woke you from nightmares and empty blankness when you dozed and dazed, feeling the days slip by and blur together into one grey smear of solitary existence. 

Something had happened. Ever since the sky lit ablaze in a familiar scene of ungodly strength, you felt a shift in the state of existence. In your relevance in the grand scheme of the college and history. 

Your sorcerers lost their way to you, you realized. The cushions around the kotatsu stayed fluffed and untouched save for one. Five of the six clay tea cups gathered dust as they waited, hopeful, like you. 

–

You woke to the feeling of hollowness. It jostled you to consciousness, in fact; those two little unborn lives swirled and stirred, clawing at your stomach before vanishing in an instant. 

Maybe they'd grown too sick and weary of the loneliness and snow, too.

–

Sukuna had walked down this path too many times. And too many times he'd been unable to move, unable to claw his way out of the prison of his vessel to get back to you–but things were different now. 

He held a bundle of blankets close as he wandered toward a speck of verdant green amidst the snowy whiteness blanketing the forest, and remembered a distant past he yearned to return to:

Sukuna was a restless creature. He often distracted himself with challenges, duels, leafing through stolen knowledge of other clans–but, on rare occasions, none of that would appeal to his tumultuous mind. 

You always appealed to him, however. You, with your lavish tails, your exquisite appearance, your superior poise and prose, you always enthralled him, made him wonder and stare. 

Maybe it was because you were always doing something. If you weren't tending to his women, you were meandering around the palace, admiring trophies earned in whatever form they came in: art, weapons, bones. If you weren't doing that, you might be in the garden instead, fine-tuning the patterns drawn in the zen garden yourself and feeding the massive koi. If not that, then you might be asking Uraume to teach you to cook, or you could be fiddling with your loom or–well, it could be anything. 

Sometimes, you’d choose to  lay with Sukuna and keep him warm and content throughout the dreary haze of winter. 

You didn't hate winter yourself, no, but Sukuna most definitely did. The snow and ice were a pain in the ass, and they always threw the garden into a messy disarray of dead foliage and slushy mud that'd have to be tended to come springtime. And it was cold as hell outside. Who asked for that? No one. 

“My love,” you cooed as you stepped to his side while he stared out the window. “Glaring won't make the seasons change.” 

Sukuna scoffed. “That a challenge?”

“Not at all.” You reached up and smoothed his hair back, stopping pesky, rebellious strands from tickling his forehead. “I'd hate to see what you'd do in an attempt to play god.”

“I'm already a god,” he countered as he snatched your hand from his hair and looked down at you.

“Not a god of the seasons, I'm afraid.” You held his hand and pulled it down to kiss his knuckles. “But a god amidst men, nonetheless.” 

Your beast hummed deep in his chest. You had a funny way of setting his roiling soul at ease with your effortless praise and acknowledgement. 

“Knew there was a reason I kept you around,” the man purred, leaning down to touch his forehead to yours. 

You leaned up into the soft gesture like a cat too eager to be pet. “You'd be quite bored without me.” 

“No kidding. I'd go fucking mental if I didn't have you to entertain me.” His voice was a murmur, then, and softened even more when your warm hands cupped his cheeks like he was a priceless, fragile artifact: precious, special, breakable.

“Yes, yes, I go insane in your stead, loved one.” You touched your nose to his, then, before placing the softest of kisses upon his lips. 

A light, sighed grumble slipped past Sukuna's lips when your skin left his. It was his turn to nudge his nose against yours, earning himself a petal-like smile from his prized possession, before he blessed you in return, trying to match the kindness you'd met him with. 

You held the front of his garbs as you leaned up into him, and his hands all found their places on your smaller frame in return, pulling you closer, keeping you against him. He hardly wanted anything like this in the past before you came along and tore his mind and soul to pieces before hunkering down in the hollow of his ribs and setting up shop. It was aggravating. Captivating. 

“Come,” you softly beckoned, slipping away from his desperate hold and leading him back to the bundle of blankets and linens he’d learned to accept as a bed.

As always, he had no choice but to follow, abandoning his mad-dogging of the outside world to join you and the infinite warmth his personal Amaterasu brought him. 

“You’re lazy as hell in the winter,” Sukuna noted as he sat himself down in the middle of your nest and let you get to work adjusting blankets and such around the both of you for optimal comfort. 

“You're free to traipse off into the snow if you so wish.” You settled yourself by Sukuna's side and tucked under his heavy arms. “I will remain here. Warm. Dry. At peace.” 

Sukuna rolled his eyes and pulled you close to his side, squeezing a chirped purr from your chest. “Think I'll pass on the snow.” 

You smiled to yourself, feeling warm and content with the settling silence engulfing you as the snow engulfed the world. Winter was the only season where he'd stay by your side, so you often indulged in it, bothering him and sticking to him like a needy pet until spring inevitably rolled around to ruin your happy spell. Because Sukuna was more wild and feral than you. He had to go wander, to go fight. Otherwise, he'd have no purpose. 

Unbeknownst to you, he may have another purpose in mind. 

His hand breached your clothes and reached down, stopping just above your navel to your surprise. There, he drew gentle, thoughtful circles against your skin. You felt pulses of cursed energy flicker and feel, searching for something neither of you yet knew of. 

“What is it you're looking for?” You murmured, knowing full well what he sought.

Sukuna inhaled deeply and exhaled just as heavy. “How long does it take to get one god knocked up, huh?” He tutted and looked down at you, holding an annoyed look while you met him with doey, lovey eyes as you leaned into him more. 

“I'm sure you'll be the man who finds out.”

Sukuna grinned to himself and adjusted the lump of blankets he held. Arrogant pride blossomed in his chest alongside his bolstered ego; if he could do this as a mere man, what could he do as a curse? 

The king sighed as he breached the warmth of the halo surrounding your humble, comfy abode. He was getting sick of the shit weather in the games, all the cold and emptiness. Being near you was what he needed. 

“Oi, don't make a fuss,” Sukuna grumbled lowly to the whining duo he adjusted in his arms. “You wanna get inside or not?” 

But before he could make use of his newly freed arm, the doors slid open before him. 

And you stood there. Tired. Disheveled. Eyes big and hopeful, yet rimmed with disbelief and shock as you stared at your man and the package he brought to your doorstep. 

Sukuna would be lying if he said he didn't melt, too. Being here, standing firm and whole and so very real and untethered in the spot other sorcerers stood in their attempt to spirit you away from him–it was the reason for his existence. 

And so was your arms wrapping around him and holding him close. 

“Ho? So you did miss me, huh?” He hummed, looping an arm around you and pressing you closer to him. “Sure didn't act like it earlier.”

“I didn't wish to believe in something that felt untrue,” you murmured into his shoulder. “Even now, you're not…entirely yourself.” 

Sorrow stained the undertones of your voice. Whether it was for the fate of Fushiguro Megumi, or for the state of your lover, Sukuna did not know. 

But he was here. He was tangible. He was in control. Finally. 

“At least I'm here, yeah?” He said. And you nodded. 

You led him inside and into the room filled with comfort and warmth. Works of embroidery lined the once-unremarkable tapestries draping down from the ceilings and walls, and the wooden pillars now boasted intricate carvings in various states of completion. Seemed like you'd gotten quite bored in your wait. 

Sukuna sat with you, being the man to finally make use of the fluffed cushions around the kotatsu as he dragged it to your side to stay close. You needed it. He thirsted for it.

The bundle whined and cooed as soon as Sukuna’s ass hit the cushion, and he sighed. “Think you can take care of this, fox?” He teased, but felt a rush of something overtake him when he caught you with your ears perked, tails swishing, back straight as you stared down at the bundle. 

He eased them into your arms and, with shaking hands, you pulled back the wooly linen to find two perfect little treasures staring up at you with big, red-lined eyes. One held the colour of yours, while the other took responsibility for sporting Sukuna's hues, but both boys’ eyes glimmered with divine flecks of gold and amber. Their hair blushed with the colour of sakura petals, and two, itty bitty tufts of soft onyx ears dotted both of their heads like chocolate chips in strawberry ice cream. 

Two perfect kits. Your perfect kits. 

“You seriously wanted these things?” Sukuna asked, teasing and rude, but softer and warmer than the fire burning in your chest. “Gotta say, they're pretty fucking annoying.”

You swathed your tails around them and purred with the ferocity of an avalanche as you leaned into your partner and doted on the teeny tiny babies he'd somehow brought back to the land of the living. A part of you felt guilty for what this could mean. The rest of you screamed, I don't care. 

“Look at them,” You whispered, tracing the roundness of their cheeks with a gentle touch. “They're beautiful.” 

“Well, lookit who their parents are.” Sukuna chuckled and held you against his side, which you eagerly melted into. “Kenjaku had a plan for them too, turns out. Who woulda thought?”

“You never told me,” you said. “Why did you not tell me?” 

“You would've been pissed,” Sukuna said, voice matter of fact. “Better to just do it and reap the benefits later.”

You looked up at him, and found his gaze locked onto you. “That's quite selfish.”

“I'm a king. I can do whatever I want. I can have whatever I want,” He reminded you. “As soon as I take care of a few pathetic, loose ends, everything'll be in place. Right where it all needs to be. And life goes back to normal." 

Your heart did something funny when you read between the lines. “Must you–”

“Don't question me.” Sukuna grabbed your chin and forced you to look down at your snoozing babes. “You’ll lose this. All of this. You'll be left with nothing all over again if I don’t finish this off. That what you want, fox?” 

“You know the answer,” you murmured, too content to let him guide you and sway your reason. He tugged your chin toward him, forcing you to look his way again.

“Tell me anyway.” Tell me what I want to hear.

How could you refuse? 

“No matter the case," you murmured, soft as forgotten winter snow, "you will always have my favour, Ryoumen Sukuna.”

–

Forever to be loved, herein lays a God's young,

Imprisoned by none, held dearly by the Disgraced One. 

[yurozo]

ink-related natural disasters (leon kennedy restaurant au oneshot)

summary: it's your first shift, and leon's been asked (ordered) to show you the ropes (fuck up tremendously in front of you on numerous occassions). no warnings, gn!reader.

a/n: my first request!! i hope you guys like it :D if y'all want me to continue the restaurant au let me know!

"does the cheese pizza have dairy?"

it's only half an hour into his shift, and leon's already contemplating on the different ways that he can permanently end his career in food service. lighting himself on fire in the middle of the floor is currently the most viable option, the candle is right there and if he moved his arm down just far enough-

"yes, ma'am. the cheese pizza does have dairy in it," he answers instead, mouth pinched into a thin smile. the pen between his fist cracks a little at the last word, earning a much easier end than the man holding it.

"then i won't get it," the woman says, looking back down at the menu with a huff. "i'm allergic."

for all of leon's strength, he can't help the little sigh that comes out of his mouth then. the man sitting at his table gives him a sympathetic look, and it's only then that leon does actually feel a bit bad.

not only does he have to deal with a woman who apparently never passed third grade english, he's currently responsible for training the new person coming in tonight. in all honesty, he's not quite sure why wesker gave him the responsibility. he's certainly hasn't been here the longest, not the most strict, and about three shattered glasses currently in the garbage isn't exactly giving a testimony to his self-assurance.

he's fucked. leon's going to have some half-baked college kid show up, stand behind him ominously all night, and ask questions until his head hurts. wesker didn't even allow him the chance to say no-- just glaring through the world's darkest sunglasses before storming off to his own office.

the only hope for him is that the tips are decent enough for him to put up with it.

the woman sitting in front of him, who he has so aptly named public enemy number one, finally finishes her order. leon offers a quick goodbye, snapping the notepad shut with his best attempt at a smile. he walks away, looking for the next open source flame is until he freezes right as claire walks by him.

what might just be the most beautiful person he's ever seen in his life is currently at the front entrance.

you're there, chatting with jill at the hostess stand with a nervous smile on your face and a notebook tucked to your chest. as cliche as it is, the restaurant really does seem to come to a standstill-- conversation seems to dim, everything seems to move in slow motion, and leon suddenly feels like air isn't getting into his chest.

if you're actually the new hire, he is truly and royally fucked.

claire giggles to herself as she finally breezes past him, muttering something under her breath that goes completely over his head. he couldn't give less of a shit what she's saying, because now jill's pointing at him, and you're looking at him with a smile and bright eyes.

it's a miracle he isn't a puddle on the floor yet, but that's neither here nor there. not when you're now walking towards him, and leon still hasn't thought of something cool to say.

"hi," you greet him softly, quickly rattling off your name and qualifications while leon is still a million miles away. "you're leon, right?"

he blinks at you slowly. "huh?"

"leon." you clarify, the slightest hint of a grin curling at your lips. jesus, you're cute even when you're clearly pitying him. "jill told me that i'm supposed to shadow you on the floor."

"i'm leon." the words leave his mouth a little too fast, the syllables blurring together in a barely perceptible haze. he gives himself a mental smack on the forehead. "i'll take care of you."

at least he has the mind to smile, even if the plastic of pen number two shatters completely in his fist.

-

he learns four things about you in the span of two hours. one, that you're incredibly smart. after about three tables you've already picked up on the general routine, the menu prices, how to describe food that you don't even eat.

two, you have a great sense of humour. or he's just on a roll with his jokes. regardless, you've laughed at every shitty one-liner that left his mouth tonight, and leon feels like he's on cloud nine.

number three, you're gorgeous, and in a way that everyone else is noticing too. tables are significantly nicer to him when you're standing politely behind, as if they too want to be on their best behaviour to win your approval. get in line, he always thinks bitterly.

and finally, you're friendly in a way that almost infuriates him. mostly because he can't tell if he's actually winning brownie points with you, or you're just entertaining the man training you. every piece of information about yourself is carefully folded and tucked away in his brain for safekeeping, just in case its the former.

"you know, i should set you up with my daughter, i think you'd love her." the old lady at his table speaks up, reaching across the table to pat his arm. "she's a real gem."

"okay," leon sighs, "how about instead, i get you that appetizer?"

you stifle a laugh behind him, but he can still feel the puff of air on his back. leon can feel you move behind him until your head is peeking over his shoulder, pretending to be very interested in whatever he's writing on the ticket.

you're so close-- he can feel your hair brushing against his cheek, feel the warmth of your shoulder right against his back, and thats when disaster strikes.

ever so glorious pen number three creaks under the weight of his grip, before pronouncing its death by exploding ink all over both his hands and the ticket. all he can do is mutter some half-formed apology to his table before running to the bathroom with his metaphorical tail between his legs. you follow closely behind, but not before giving the customers an apologetic smile and a sickly-sweet apology.

again, infuriating. been here a couple hours and you're more of a natural than he is.

any hope of brownie points with you is draining alongside the ink dripping onto the ceramic. when he looks up at himself in the mirror, he can't help but internally cringe at his appearance. fully-formed eyebags, hair tousled from a nervous habit he's too tired to break, and now ink all over his sole work shirt. he's been looking like this in front of you this whole time, no wonder you probably think he's truly lost his mind.

you appear behind him through the mirror, just over his shoulder again. "you really should take it easy on the pens. they didn't do anything wrong."

a half-hearted laugh rings between the both of you. you reach for the paper towels to start getting some of the blue residue off. the way you touch him is soft, way too caring for someone you just met. he thinks that's the part he likes the most so far.

the heart on your sleeve, not too unlike his own.

"so much for taking care of you, huh?" he chuckles, staring down at the way your hand is holding his with the other rubbing the ink off his palm.

"you did great, don't worry," you smile, glancing up at him. "let me return the favour."

-

still trying to will the blush off his face, leon furiously uncrumples the ticket and sticks it in front of luis.

"sancho, what the hell is this?"

"it's the order for 37, what does it look like?" he barks back, a little too harshly for something that is most definitely his fault. if luis is offended by his tone of voice he certainly doesn't show it, just tilting his head at leon like he's got him all figured out.

"it looks like you wrote this with the pen in your mouth," he laughs, sticking it above him anyway. "what's got you so distracted?"

before leon can give him some sort of half-witted answer, ada steps up to the counter, glaring at the piece of paper above her like it personally offended her. "you're an idiot, kennedy."

leon just sighs, "tell me something i don't know."

[lefaystrent]

"So yeah, that's the whole place pretty much, besides the back yard," Patton says. He's finished walking the prospective new tenant around the house and now they're back in the common rooms. "What do you think? Seem like a good fit for ya? I know you said you've always lived alone, but I swear we're good roommates."

Virgil glances around again, gnawing on his bottom lip. He had wanted to see everything, from everyone's rooms to (strangely) all possible entry and exit points. He said it's important in case of break-ins or fires, but he seems far too nervous about it all. Maybe he's just the nervous type. Patton doesn't judge.

"Could we check out the backyard actually?" Virgil asks. "I don't really go outside much, but I've never lived in a place that has a yard."

"Oh yeah, sure! Let me grab my trash real quick; I gotta toss it anyway."

Patton snatches up a full bag of trash and escorts Virgil outside to the little back patio. He lets Virgil get a feel for it while he beelines over to the dumpster.

"Oh cool, you guys have your own dumpster?" he asks, trailing after him.

Patton smiles. "Yeah, it's pretty convenient, even if it is a load of garbage." He preens when the joke musters a laugh out of the other. He throws up the top of the bin.

"Hey, Patton," Remus says from inside the dumpster, a banana peel hanging off his head.

"Hi, Remus!" Patton greets back jovially. He tosses in the trash, careful to avoid Remus, and carries on with the conversation after he closes the lid. "I do a bit of gardening out here with Logan's help, if you'd like to... Virgil?"

Virgil has the demeanor of someone who's just choked on his own spit. His body has turned as if to make a break for the back door.

"Virgil?" Patton tries again. "Was it something I said?"

"What was that?" Virgil gestures wildly at the dumpster. "Who was that?!"

"Oh! That's just Remus."

"Why is he in the dumpster?"

Patton frowns in confusion. He glances between the dumpster and Virgil, afraid that he's missed some context. "Umm, he came with the place? He's always just been there. Why, what's wrong?"

Virgil looks like he can respond with a seven hour speech. Instead, he just wheezes.

[inawickedlittletown]

What Do You Mean, A Plane (BuckTommy) - 8x03 coda

Read on Ao3

“I really hope those idiots get a huge fine,” Tommy said. 

Lucy bumped her shoulder against him. “I think they will.” 

“How many incidents like this is it going to take before people figure out that it isn’t a good idea to use a freaking explosive to find out the sex of their baby?” Tommy asked. 

Lucy sighed. “In premise it’s a cute concept if it’s like a cake with pink or blue frosting inside but it has gotten out of hand.” 

“And what if the kid is nonbinary? Or trans? Then what, the parents went through all this trouble just to then realize that they were wrong the whole time. I just don’t get it. And considering how dumb they and their offspring are likely to be, what if they go and have a different gender reveal and set off another fire even when they’re told that the dry climate isn’t the time or place to do something like this.” 

“You’re just a grump today, aren’t you,” Lucy said with a grin. “Lighten up, I think we should be good to go home in a bit. And hey, at least now I know I’m not expecting a gender reveal party whenever you and Buck wind up having kids.” 

Tommy decided to ignore her second statement. It was way too soon to think about kids even if Tommy could picture it. 

Lucy gave him a nudge. “Too early?” 

“We haven’t even moved in together yet. Yes, too early.” 

“Yes, but you want him to move in, don’t you.” 

She was not wrong. Evan was at his house all the time as it was, but the times when he wasn’t it felt emptier and far more quiet than Tommy preferred. 

“That’s not a denial,” Lucy said. “Come on, Kinard, this was not that bad.” 

It wasn’t. Tommy had been in the air to start dropping retardant and also helping smokejumpers get to the fire from the inside. Then, he’d been told to bring the copter down and join the ground crew. He’d found Lucy there. 

“Any idea why they brought us down?” She’d asked. 

“I guess they needed more hands down here,” Tommy said, but took note that there were no other helicopters or jets flying over the fire.

It had been a long day, but the fire was basically out, some smoke still rising into the sky. He really did think going home sounded perfect. It’d be even better if Evan was there, but Evan was on shift probably still dealing with calls related to the killer bees. Evan had said the weather had likely sent them on their way and Tommy supposed the smoke from the forest fire had calmed them too. Probably. No more bee-nados. 

When they did get cleared to go, Tommy just let out a huge yawn. Maybe it was the lack of sleep making him feel grumpy. Except that he would still be pissed at stupid people and gender reveal parties if he was fully rested. He and Lucy wound up hitching a ride with another company and they were all far too tired to talk to each other. 

Tommy checked his phone instead of making small talk. There were a few emails. Promotional garbage, a couple of bills that were on autopay and a few other random things. Nothing that required his attention. Evan hadn’t called or texted since the morning, but Tommy had seen and responded to that text. 

Evan: I don’t know what’s bothering me more today, Gerrard or the noise from the construction. 

Tommy: Tune them both out? Hang in there. 

When they got back to Harbor, he ignored the way that some of his coworkers seemed glued to the tv in the break room in favor of going to get cleaned up and out of his sweat drenched clothes. By the time he was done, they all seemed to have scattered again. The last he saw was a helicopter going up into the sky. 

He made it out to his car and found that there was way more traffic than should be normal especially when he wasn’t getting on a highway, so he put on a podcast and didn’t mind the longer drive. He made it home in one piece and then after warming up some of the leftovers went straight to his bedroom, got out of his clothes, and climbed into bed. He sent Evan a text before putting his phone on do not disturb. 

Tommy: Fire’s out. I’m home. Come over when you’re done with your shift, I’ll probably still be asleep when you do. Be safe out there. 

Then, he passed out. 

Tommy woke up when he heard his front door open, but stayed in bed until Evan made it to his room, sitting up slowly and blinking at him. 

“Shit, did I wake you?” Evan asked, voice low. 

“It’s okay. Hi, Evan.” 

“Hi,” Evan said and he crossed the room to lean over to kiss Tommy. 

“What time is it?” 

“Little after two,” Evan said as he sat down on the edge of the bed. “I’m actually surprised we were allowed to go. They’re still working on clearing the plane. I guess if you call out half the firehouses out they had too many of us to keep all of us.”

Tommy blinked a few times. “What do you mean, a plane?” he asked. 

“The one that landed on the 110?”

“What?” Tommy asked. “A plane landed on the 110?” 

“Yeah,” Evan said, “why do you think everyone was grounded? Weren’t you? Anyway, Athena landed the plane on the 110 after Bobby and I cleared it for her. Everyone made it. Well…not the Captain I think they said she was pulled out through a hole. The co-pilot had a heart attack.”

Tommy was at a loss for words. And then, it hit him…

“Did you just say Athena landed the plane?” 

Evan nodded. “But don’t tell anyone. Bobby says she wants to remain anonymous. She’s happy to just be the passenger that saved the day.” 

“Evan, we’re going to have to backtrack to the beginning. I haven’t heard about any of this.” 

“Oh,” Evan said, eyes widening. “How? It was on every news station.” 

“I was at a fire,” Tommy said.

Evan went through it. An in air collision that wound up with Athena of all people in the pilot’s seat with a kid that was at most twelve. How the 118 had spent most of their day talking people on the plane through triage and first aid for other passengers. How Evan had been trying to reach Bobby the whole day and then just went to get him instead. Lucky decision as it turned out. 

“Who talked Athena through all of it?” Tommy asked. 

“ATC got a flight instructor on the phone,” Evan said. “It worked even when the plane couldn’t be turned.” 

“The plane had no rudder?” Tommy asked.

“The plane had at least two holes and caught on fire after landing,” Evan said. “Sure add not having a rudder.” 

“Evan,” Tommy said because it was not the time for joking. 

“Bobby, Brad, and I were on the phone with Athena trying to get to the airport when she found out it wasn’t going to turn, so we wound up clearing the highway for her to land. It all worked out.” 

Tommy let out a breath and he reached for Evan’s hand. It did work out. Tommy had clearly missed the whole thing, but it had worked out and that was very important to him especially because it meant that Evan had come home to him. Still, a small part of him did wish he’d been looped in. Tommy had never flown a commercial passenger plane or anything, but he did know how. At one point he’d even considered that a possibility after the Army. Tommy didn’t know how much help he could have offered from the ground, though, and Athena had already been connected to a flight instructor. Still, that didn’t meant that he didn’t feel a little left out maybe. 

“Wait, you said you had to clear traffic on the 110,” Tommy said. “How’d you manage that?” 

“Borrowed a motorcycle,” Evan said. 

“Borrowed a motorcycle,” Tommy repeated. 

“Needed to get there somehow,” Evan said. “Bobby and I already stole a truck from the set of the show.” 

Tommy let out a small laugh at that. “What?” 

“How do you think we were at the right place at the right time.” 

They talked a little more about it. How Bobby had taken a firetruck off the set of Hotshots and how they were joined by one of the actors. How it took a while for anyone else to arrive. How Buck had felt the windstream of the plane as it came down. 

“It was so good to see Bobby take charge. I missed him so much, Tommy.”

“I know,” Tommy said. “I know you do. Where was Gerrard during all of this?” 

At that, Evan pulled away, he turned so he could look directly at Tommy. 

“He was — probably still is — in the hospital. They never did get back to us on how he was.” 

“The hospital? What happened to him?”

Evan went stiff. “Uh…so he got in my face again. Started just ranting at me and then I heard one of the buzzsaws come loose. Well, no, I don’t know if I did. I pushed Gerrard so hard he hit his head on the ground. There was so much blood, Tommy. Hen thought he was concussed.”  

Whatever he felt about Gerrard, and whatever that man deserved, he didn’t like what this was doing to Evan. Tommy sat up a little more, letting his sheet pool at his waist. He pulled at Evan until Evan scooted next to Tommy, leaned into him. 

“The buzzsaw would have hit him?” Tommy confirmed. 

Evan gave a nod. “I just acted. Pushed him. But I was so angry so I don’t — I don’t know why I did it. I don’t know if I did it to save him. I don’t know.” 

Tommy wrapped an arm around him, brought Evan right into him and kissed the side of his head. 

“I know you, Evan, and Gerrard has been taunting you and driving you crazy for months, and while I think he can hit nerves — he’s good at it — you wouldn’t turn to violence even against him. I think you saved him.”

Evan groaned. “I’m going to get fired, aren’t I?” 

“Why?” Tommy asked. “You saved your Captain’s life even if you did injure him and you were instrumental in saving a whole bunch of people both on and off that plane. I really can’t believe I missed it.” 

“Well if not fired, then how much worse is Gerrard going to be?” 

That Tommy couldn’t predict. Gerrard was a loose cannon, a bigoted one that didn’t approve of anyone and had certainly had it out for Evan from day one. Tommy hated how powerless it made him feel, but he could be the shoulder that Evan leaned on. 

“Hey, whatever he does, I know you can handle it. Now, tell me again about you stealing a prop from a set, how does that even work?” 

“Apparently they use real trucks even if they’re not outfitted with the right tools,” Evan said. 

“And the motorcycle. And why is this the first I’m hearing about you knowing how to drive one.” 

Evan laughed, leaning into him. “Tommy, I’m so glad I could come here after all that madness.” 

“Me too, Evan. Me too.” 

The next morning, when he finally got around to watching the footage of the whole thing he figured it was probably better he hadn’t known until after the fact, when he already knew that Evan was alright and that so was everyone else. 

[covenofstars]

Dark Wine and Velvet Eyes – Part II

Remmick x Reader

He didn’t take your hand.

He didn’t have to.

The world seemed to bend around Remmick as he rose, his silhouette slicing through the haze of red light. You followed, drawn not by force but something older—like gravity or fate. You should’ve been afraid. You were.

But curiosity overruled fear.

You stepped out into the alley behind the bar, but it didn’t smell like garbage or wet pavement anymore. The air had shifted—sweet, metallic, cold. Shadows clung to Remmick like a second coat, shifting unnaturally as he moved. You tried not to stare too hard. You weren’t sure you wanted to know what moved inside them.

He glanced over his shoulder. “Still sure?”

“No,” you said honestly.

That made him smirk. “Good. The unsure are the ones who survive.”

He extended one hand this time, palm up, waiting.

You hesitated. Then, slowly, you placed your hand in his.

His skin was cold—deathly so—but somehow not unpleasant. The chill climbed your arm like a whisper, like it was asking permission to enter. You gave it.

And the world changed.

One blink—you were in the alley. The next… gone. Replaced by a chamber of black stone and candlelight, filled with soft music that didn’t come from any source you could see. There were mirrors, too—but none reflected Remmick.

Just you.

Alone.

You spun to find him already behind you.

“This is a threshold,” he said, voice low, reverent. “It exists between your world and mine. Most humans don’t make it this far without going mad.”

“And what happens to the ones who do?” you whispered.

He stepped close, his hand ghosting along your back without quite touching. “They become something else.”

Your breath caught. “What did you become?”

Remmick’s eyes met yours, and for a moment, they burned—not with fire, but memory. Pain. Love. Hunger.

“Lonely,” he said simply.

That cracked something in you. He looked ancient and dangerous, yes—but also… hollow. Like all the elegance and power was armor for something long since broken.

“You brought me here to see your world,” you said. “But this is about more than that.”

He gave a slow nod. “I’ve watched you for a long time. Longer than you realize. You’re not like the others. Your soul—” he paused, as if tasting the word—“it’s frayed at the edges. Touched by loss. Shaped by fire. It calls to me.”

You looked up at him, heart racing. “And what do you want from it?”

Remmick stepped in closer, finally touching your cheek. His glove was off now. His fingers were cold, but his eyes were molten.

“Not to take it,” he murmured. “To understand it.”

You should’ve pulled away.

Instead, you leaned in.

Just a fraction of an inch between you now—his breath mingling with yours.

“Then understand me,” you whispered.

And he did.

Not with teeth.

Not yet.

But with a kiss—cool, deep, and somehow aching. A promise made in shadows. Not of forever, but of more. More secrets. More nights. More of him.

When he pulled back, your head spun.

“I’ll take you home,” he said, voice a little rough now. “But you’ll come back.”

You nodded, dazed. “Yeah. I will.”

Because Remmick wasn’t done with you.

And God help you…

You weren’t done with him.

Tags:

@i-shall-abide

[lavandulawrites]

Can you please do Yandere Choso with a darling who is trying to hide from him,but gets caught trying to escape.

Fire Escape

I apologise for the long wait. This is quite short since I wrote it at 03:00 (am)

Masterlist

Word count: 500

The flat was dark and silent except from your pants as you tried to unlock the door. Choso were coming home in 30 minutes. He was out watching a movie with Yuji. Something about a worm man, though you didn’t really listen as you were busy making an escape plan in your head while he rambled on. The door finally unlocked and creaked open. The hallway was quiet. Finally freedom. Your heart skipped a beat, but you had to keep calm.

With hesitant steps you made it down the corridor which had seen better days. Orange sunlight were shining through the dusty windows. It was late afternoon and that meant you didn’t have long before your captor came home. You had already wasted precious minutes on that stupid front door.

You rounded the corner and froze. By the rusty lift were a pair of black pigtails. He hadn’t spotted you yet. You held your breath and backed away. Fuck. You needed to take the rusty fire escape that looked like it would collapse at any moment.

Cold spring wind blew through your hair as you peered down the fire escape. This was the only way. You moved down with ease, surprising yourself. There were no room for mistakes after all. The stairs creaked under you making cold sweat collect at your temples.

As you made contact with the ground, the door leading to the basement swung open. You quickly hid behind the stairs.

Choso was holding a garbage bag which he threw into the container, completely unaware of your presence.

You sighed in relief as he ventured inside.

Brown leafs crunched underneath your flimsy shoes as you made your way towards the gate. Finally you would escape that curse.

“[Name].”

“Where are you going?” a voice sounded from behind you. The hairs on the back of your neck rose and you stilled. “[Name], where are you going?” the voice repeated.

A hand grabbed your shoulder and spun you around. “You aren’t supposed to be outside. It’s dangerous” his deep purple eyes frantic. His pupils tiny. He shock you. “[Name]. Why are you out here?”

You only stared at him with wide eyes.

“Please come with me. You can do that right?” his voice growing more desperate. His grip on your shoulder tightened. “I will make you some of your favourite food. Okay? But only if you come inside” he smiled slightly as an attempt at calming you. “Please. I don’t want to drag you inside”.

Your breath quickened. You shock his hand off you and ran for the gate. You didn’t come far before large hands grabbed you and pinned you down.

He grunted “Why do you have to make it so difficult?”. “Why can’t you cooperate?” his voice whiny and desperate. After realising you wouldn’t answer, he threw you over his shoulder. “I am sorry for having to do this, but you give me no choice.” he sighed.

“I will have to bring out the chains again it seems”

[angel-sweets666]

running away!

chapter four finale

guard!könig x princess reader

The guard of a princess and the princess escape the royal confines and live in the woods

warning :

könig knocked on your door 5 times to signify that it was him at your door, you peeked your head through “bags packed?” He asked, looking at you from under his mask “yeah.. I’ve got everything” “have you disguised it as garbage?” He asks a question that was purely so he and you won’t get caught “yep! It all looks like garbage, I’ve got one bag” you told him, passing him a bag that was clearly full of clothes and other essentials and luxury’s

“you ready?”

You nodded, glancing around nervously. "I can't stay here any longer. Let's go."

König took your hand, his grip firm and reassuring. Together, you made your way to the stables, where two horses awaited with a wagon tied to the back of them , their breath visible in the cool night air. He helped you into the wagon, putting a tarp over yoy , then swung up onto one of the horses . With a final, longing look at the castle, he spurred the horses into a gallop , racing towards the forest that bordered the kingdom.

The ride was exhilarating, the wind whipping through your hair as you left the castle far behind. König watched over you , his presence a steadying force in the night. As you entered the forest, the trees closed in around you, their branches forming a protective canopy overhead. The sounds of the castle faded, replaced by the rustling leaves and the distant calls of nocturnal creatures.

After what felt like hours, you reached a secluded clearing deep within the forest. König dismounted first, then helped you down from your horse. He led you to a hidden cottage that he had prepared, its wooden structure blending seamlessly with the surroundings.

"We'll be safe here," he said, opening the door and guiding you inside. The cabin was cozy, with a fireplace, a sturdy king sized bed, and shelves lined with supplies. It was a far cry from the opulence of the castle, but it felt like a haven.

You sank into a chair by the fire, exhaustion and relief washing over you. König knelt beside you, taking your hands in his. "Are you all right?" he asked, his eyes filled with concern.

"I am now," you replied, squeezing his hands. "As long as I'm with you, I'll be fine."

He smiled, a rare sight that made your heart flutter. "We'll make a life here, away from all the expectations and dangers of the court. Just you and me."

The days that followed were a blur of adjustments and discoveries. You learned to live off the land, guided by König's expertise. He taught you how to forage for food, how to build a fire, and how to navigate the dense forest. You found solace in the simplicity of your new life, far removed from the suffocating responsibilities of royalty.

König proved to be an adept and patient teacher, his strength and skills invaluable in your new existence. You marveled at how seamlessly he transitioned from a fearsome guard to a nurturing partner. Nights were spent wrapped in each other's arms, the flickering firelight casting shadows on the walls as you whispered dreams and promises.

One evening, as you sat by the fire, König took your hand and led you outside. The night was clear, the sky awash with stars. He pulled you close, his arms around you, and you rested your head against his chest.

"Look up," he said softly.

You tilted your head back, gasping at the sight above. The stars seemed brighter here, more vibrant. It was as if the entire universe was laid out before you, a testament to the freedom you had fought for.

As you stood there, wrapped in his embrace, you knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, you would face them together. The forest had become your sanctuary, and with König by your side, you were ready to embrace whatever came next.

this was rushed I’m so sorry, but that’s the wrap for running away!

[b3d-r0t]

N33t K1Nk 4 L1FE!!! PART 1

A little horny story/post (idk how long it's gonna be yet)

Cw: slob kink, stink kink

Alex unlock the front door and let out a long sigh. He was completely exhausted after working a double shift, again. He was working doubles more and more trying to keep him and his partner, Naomi, financially afloat. It was proving extremely difficult and draining for Alex. Alex walked into the kitchen to a familiar sight. Dirty dishes filling the sink, food spilled on the ground and counter, and an overflowing trash can. He gritted his teeth and directed his gaze to the bedroom, where Naomi was scrolling Instagram on her phone in bed. That was, indeed, almost always where she was. Alex felt the resentment bubble up inside him. He thought to himself, "why should I have to work so hard, for so long, when she doesn't do anything?"

This was not a new issue for the couple. When they met, Naomi seemed perfect, albeit a little naive at times. She was kind, thoughtful, interesting and intelligent, a fellow student at the college Alex attended. The two met at the very beginning of one of the semesters, and immediately hit it off. However, after just one semester of school Naomi decided to drop out. She went back home to live with her parents, who were very rich and had paid for her schooling. Her parents encouraged her to look into job opportunities, even though they were fully able to support Naomi, in order to teach her hard work and responsibility. Being a child in a rich family, Naomi was accustomed to getting whatever she wanted, when she wanted it, and her parents wanted to teach her about the real world and begin a successful career or return to school or do... Something ...

But Naomi didn't. Once she arrived home from college, she laid down in her bed, opened her phone and started scrolling. Naomi's mom and dad expected that there would be a rest and transition period before Naomi started seeking out a job. But Her parents watched in anxiety, and eventually disgust, and finally anger, as days turned to weeks turned to months of Naomi bedrotting all day, doing nothing productive whatsoever. They also noticed her wearing the same clothes for days at a time, and began to smell a foul odor eminating from her room and Naomi herself. The room was nearly uninhabitable -garbage, dirty clothes, rotting food, her filthy bathroom she never cleaned, it could've been identified as a biohazard. The only time she would leave the house was to see her beloved Alex. She would shower, dress up nice and tell endless lies to Alex about what she had been up to. As far as he knew, she had landed a job at a local store that she was quite happy with. She didn't think he would want to be with a 'loser' like her so she kept the reality hidden.

Eventually Naomi's parents grew up fed up with their daughter that they gave her the ultimatum to find a job or get out of their house. Naomi sat in bed anxiously, worried the free ride had come to an end and that she would have to start actually taking on some responsibilities and putting effort into life. Just then, a bright idea popped into her mind. Alex has a nice apartment of his own and a good paying job. He was also so head over heels in love with Naomi that she knew she could manipulate, control and dominate. Alex truly would do anything for her, and she knew that, and saw the perfect opportunity to secure the life she wanted for herself-that is, one involving no effort or work or sacrifice from her. A life where she could completely leech off another person to have everything she wanted, regardless of how the other person felt about it.

Naomi picked up her phone and called Alex, putting on her best fake crying voice. "M-my parents k-k-kicked me out because I got fired from my job and can't pay them rent... Can I please come stay with you? Just for a bit at least, until I find a new job and my own place?"

Alex reacted predictably, coddling and comforting Naomi and welcoming her into his home, happy to be able to help her and for the chance to get closer to his partner.

Alex never would've imagined that Naomi would use him or turn into what she became after moving in with him. He wasn't prepared for the entitled, lazy, disgusting brat of a girl he found himself in a relationship with. Naomi had gotten very good at masking her true feelings, intentions and nature over the years in order to trick others and manipulate them into doing or being whatever she wanted.

MORE TO COME....

[lightgirlification]

In Stars and Time: After Story Chapter 6

CW for slight negative thinking

Sorry for the wait with this one! The holidays were a bit overwhelming and then I got sick XC I hope to update faster in the future! Please enjoy!

Chapter 6:

Siffrin double checked the bags with important items, such as tonics and crafted water, with Mirabelle. They also made sure they had the map and compass ready, of which Odile was making final adjustments to the routes they’d be taking. Meanwhile, Bonnie and Isabeau were making breakfast together for everyone to eat before the group was to set out again for Bambouche. Siffrin couldn’t believe they’d be there in a month already; it seemed like only yesterday they had left Dormont, but it felt nice to be far away from the place. He wouldn’t dare badmouth Mirabelle’s home, but his anxiety spiked being there longer than they had to be.

He couldn’t even speak much when saying goodbye to the Head Housemaiden; no one seemed to blame him for it, which is good. It’s not that he felt the woman was a bad person, he didn’t believe she was, it’s just he felt if he spoke to her, it would be the end of his ‘happily ever after’. It didn’t matter how silly it sounded; it was real to him. He did make one last trek to the Favor Tree, to thank Loop once more before leaving, though he couldn’t bring himself to say goodbye. He wanted to see them again someday and he had this uneasy feeling, however silly it was, if he said goodbye then they’d never meet again. So, he said his thanks instead, hoping with all his soul that Loop would come back someday.

He supposed his hopes came true after all; he didn’t even have to wish for it. Good thing too because wishing was off the table, it didn’t matter how small they were Siffrin was afraid to even think the word, flinching slightly when he did. He would read up on wish craft and research it with Odile when he felt prepared, but for now it was off limits, as was the place of Dormont in general. Everyone seemed to silently agree that Dormont never be brought up, at least until Siffrin was ready. Hopefully with enough traveling and his talks with Odile, perhaps therapy as well, he’ll be able to visit again one day.

“Do you think we’ve packed enough fire starters?” Mirabelle asked, “Maybe a few more couldn’t hurt.” Siffrin arched an eyebrow with a smile,

“I am pretty sure we packed around 50. And by the time we are close to finishing them we should be near our next town. There’s also travelling merchants we can run into, so I don’t think we have to worry too much.” Mirabelle seemed to think some more,

“E-Even so, you can’t predict just how long it will take to get to the next town, or when a traveling salesman will show up! Or-!”

“It’ll be okay Mira. We are always prepared no matter what! If not you, Odile makes sure of that.” The rogue gave a thumbs up, and the woman blinked before thinking for a bit,

“Well, Odile did check everything with me the night before as well…Alright!” Mirabelle placed the bag to the side, “I think all that’s left is to check our personal bags! The others already did theirs.” Siffrin nodded and reached for their bag to check its contents. He would say he didn’t need a refresher at this point, but he wouldn’t deny the opportunity to have one, especially with how his mind worked. It didn’t matter that he remembered Isabeau’s favorite dish or that he’s recalling things easier, it can always turn around for the worst, because he was the worst, because he didn’t trudge through the waters enough to grasp memories and treated them like garbage.

He felt something sharp, and he froze. He wouldn’t dare look down at this moment, held his breath as if he was saving himself from the harsh waves above him. He wouldn’t deny he had the want to use the sharp edge of his dagger against his neck in the beginning of the new journey. It was so easy to forget he wasn’t in the loops, so easy to stop the negative thoughts in their tracks if he just gave in and tried to carve new stars or even other types of imagery on the canvas that was his flesh. But he wouldn’t now, not after remembering the first time when he used the dagger and his family’s reactions, especially knowing that Isabeau saw him first. Isabeau picked up on Siffrin’s changes in behavior more than anyone, so much that it scared the Traveler. But it’s also why Siffrin loved Isabeau, knew their heart was safe; cradled so gently yet shielded in a protective hold.

He only considered using the dagger once after the loops. His thoughts were racing and clenched his temples like a vice; his stomach twisting causing him to feel so nauseous that he believed he’d loop. He couldn’t go through it all again, if he woke up in that field and Loop wasn’t there to guide him…

When he heard Isabeau’s voice however, he wasn’t sure what to do. Siffrin was scared that the man would yell and yank the weapon away from them, scolding them as if they made the biggest mistake ever, but everything seemed to happen in slow motion. Isabeau wasn’t mad, or upset, he just approached Siffrin calmly and asked for the dagger. Siffrin didn’t want to give it up at first, they even gripped it tighter in fear, but Isabeau continued to speak gently until Siffrin felt safe enough to hand it over. After retrieving and placing it far away, the man hugged Siffrin tightly, thanking his God that Siffrin was okay and apologizing that he didn’t notice how the other felt that day. Siffrin then realized how much Isabeau was trying to hold himself together, from his expression to his voice; trying to hold it together before letting it out once the Rogue was safe in his arms. It led to Siffrin breaking down, saying sorry like a mantra as if it would erase what he was planning to do. Isabeau just said it was okay and cradled Siffrin in his arms, the older not understanding what he did to deserve this love. How was what he did to Isabeau, to all of his family, in that moment okay? Siffrin was too scared to ask then, and never came around to doing so out of shame.

He couldn’t hide how he felt about the dagger after that, though he made everyone promise not to tell Bonnie. It would be too much for the preteen…

Taking a deep breath, he quickly made sure everything was in his bag before closing it up and placing it with everyone else’s belongings. Stop thinking about this too much Siffrin. Isabeau said that a person pushing themselves too hard will have the same effect as not trying at all, so calm down. It’ll be fine, everything will be fine.

“Are you alright, Siffrin?” Siffrin straightened up at Mirabelle’s words, and he sent a reassuring smile,

“I’m all good. Just a little too much on my mind.” Mirabelle seemed to not believe him, and he shifted nervously a little, “I promise, I was just thinking a lot.” The Housemaiden held her hands close to her chest, an action she normally did when gathering courage to say something,

“A-Alright then. Would you like to talk about it?” She sounded concerned, way to go Siffrin…He rubbed his arm, trying to wrangle in his thoughts,

“It’s just…” Come on Siffrin, talking helps, “When I was looking through my bag, I was starting to…think poorly about myself again.” Mirabelle nodded,

“You seemed to freeze at some point when sorting through your things.” Siffrin felt a chill go through him, “I-I didn’t want to say anything since I thought you were very focused, but you were also very quiet, so I felt something was wrong.” The woman paused, “Are you worried about your memory still?” The stare she received all but confirmed her thoughts, Siffrin couldn’t help it though. Mirabelle had hit the nail on the head, though thankfully she didn’t consider his dagger. Siffrin didn’t plan on using it truth be told, it just startled him when he was stuck in his head. Mirabelle hummed in thought before blinking as her eyes lit up with an idea, “Oh! Have you thought about keeping a journal Siffrin?” The said Rogue tilted their head,

“A journal?”

“Yes! Journals are a great way to put down your thoughts or recount what happened to you during that day. They’re great for recalling wonderful memories or getting out emotions when you need to.” Mirabelle’s smile grew, “We can go buy you one before we leave this town! I-If you want that is!” Siffrin mulled it over for a bit. He felt maybe this would be a crutch, but Mirabelle’s personal items for her anxiety weren’t ever ‘crutches’. They were things that helped her become stronger, so perhaps this would do the same with Siffrin.

“I can write anything in it?” Mirabelle nodded,

“Yup, anything! You can personalize it as well!” Siffrin began to really enjoy the idea, maybe he could sketch in the journal as well. He returned the woman’s smile,

“Okay, I think I’ll take you up on your offer.” A few little jumps of happiness showed Siffrin how much his answer excited Mirabelle, and Siffrin couldn’t help but giggle at her reaction. After a few more minutes checking over everything, mostly to reassure Mirabelle, they made their way out to the dining area where Bonnie and Isabeau were beginning to plate the food. Isabeau sent the two a smile,

“Hey you two, everything good on your end?” Mirabelle and Siffrin sat down at the table as younger woman spoke,

“Yes! We can set out once we are ready.”

“You guys took a while!” Bonnie huffed, “Did the bags suddenly come alive or something?” Odile smirked,

“I think we’d hear shouting throughout the entire house if that happened.”

“W-We can handle ourselves thank you very much!” Mirabelle pouted, Siffrin crossing his arms,

“Yeah, we would have to…” There was a feline expression on his face, “Strap in and fight them off.” Mirabelle had to hold back her giggles as Isabeau, of course, began to laugh heartily. Odile and Bonnie groaned, the latter opting to stick their tongue out,

“No! Bad!” Siffrin’s cat-like smile simply grew. He eyed the food and couldn’t help his mouth from watering. He came to appreciate meals even more since the loops ended and delighted in any recipe Bonnie made. Maybe he could write some recipes down in the journal he’ll be getting soon. Siffrin wondered what his first entry would be, though maybe thinking too much about it would defeat the purpose.

“Ah! Before we leave, Siffrin and I are going to stop by the bookshop. We’re looking for a journal!” Odile raised an inquisitive eyebrow,

“Oh? I didn’t realize you were interested in journaling Siffrin.” A smile lined her lips, “I think it would be good for you; journaling can relieve stress.”

“Is that why you’re always writing Dile?” Bonnie said as they began serving themselves, and Odile grinned teasingly,

“Oh yes. I’m writing down how you kids are always fraying my nerves and giving me more than a few ulcers.” Siffrin snickered, having long picked up on at least a few of Odile’s witty remarks. Isabeau gave a feigned wounded look,

“You wound me Madam, I would think us kids at least give you positive energy!” Odile laughed,

“I suppose that’s true.” She looked down, her grin fond, “Yes, you all give me that and much more.” Everyone smiled. After breakfast, Siffrin and Mirabelle went to the nearby store, the latter carrying the money pouch with her. The rest of the party had told the two to go look at the various journals for sale while the others finished up at the house. Afterwords, everyone would meet at the town’s second exit to continue their journey to Bambouche. Bonnie was excited to get moving again but agreed to be patient; Siffrin and Mirabelle would be quick for them anyway as they understood the preteen’s patience wasn’t their strong suit. Siffrin chuckled at picturing Bonnie’s reaction to such a statement, but also knew Bonnie was rather mature for their age, which he respected. Mirabelle picked up a journal with some floral patterns, and smiled at Siffrin,

“What do you think of this one Siffrin?” Siffrin looked at the cover for a bit, thinking, before shaking his head,

“I think I want to look at more first.” Mirabelle nodded,

“That’s fair!” Siffrin joined her in looking at the blank books as she continued, “We’ll have to get you some writing utensils too.” The Rouge tilted his head,

“Can’t I ask Odile for a pencil?”

“You could, but it’s nice to have your own. Also, you can have different designs on the pens and pencils too!” Siffrin smiled at that idea and nodded, then pondered for a moment,

“Have you kept a journal too Mirabelle?” The woman nodded,

“I have had several in the past! I did stop for a time, but my therapist helped me start writing again!” Siffrin did recall Mirabelle speaking about a therapist before, it helped her a lot apparently. Siffrin shifted to his other leg,

“Therapy huh…?” Mirabelle tilted her head knowingly, a soft smile on her lips,

“I know the idea of it worries you, but therapy can truly help you come to terms with a lot of things. You aren’t any different for needing help Siffrin, and I promise you I’ll tell you everything I know about therapy if it helps.” Siffrin nodded,

“I’d like that. I just don’t know how to even share my problems with…a stranger of all things.” Mirabelle’s smile remained, though her eyebrows knitted together knowing how Siffrin felt,

“I understand. I felt very much the same, however therapists are there to listen and help you work through your issues. My therapist gives me building blocks to work with and am much better than I was. Though again, I know it’s easier said than done, so you give it some thought first.” Siffrin nodded again. Another reason that scared him about therapy was, well he didn’t think he deserved help after all that he did back then. It was hard for him to ask for help, more over ask for anything he wanted, but if his family wanted the best for him perhaps it’s time for Siffrin himself to start wanting that too. “I have an idea, let me handle the writing utensils! You pick out a journal you really like!”

“Okay, sounds good.” Mirabelle then went to look at the area that held the items she was looking for. Siffrin turned back to the books and took in their designs. Flowers, shells, animals, there was anything and everything for people to pick out. They all looked nice of course, but none of them really grabbed Siffrin’s attention, that is until his gaze fell on a journal with stars on its cover. It had beautiful shading, and the stars were drawn as hanging ornaments alongside a crescent moon. Siffrin picked it up and turning it a little, the stars and moon shimmered slightly. Siffrin felt himself smiling, it was like this journal was made for him! He excitedly headed over to Mirabelle with it, and saw she had already picked out some things,

“Oh? Have you found one Siffrin?” Siffrin beamed, showing Mirabelle the said journal. Mirabelle’s eyes grew wide at it, as she began to beam too, “It’s lovely Siffrin! It suits you perfectly.” Siffrin giggled and held the book close to him, jumping up and down a little. He couldn’t help it; he really liked this journal! Mirabelle then showed Siffrin the items she picked out, “I thought you’d like some star themed items, so I decided that these designs would work best!” A pen and pencil with stars on them, moon shaped erasers, and even a pencil sharpener with sparkles on it. Siffrin couldn’t help but giggle more,

“Thank you Mira, I love these!” Mirabelle nodded, joining in Siffrin’s laughter in united glee. They went to purchase the items, and the bright haired rouge wondered what his first entry would be. Perhaps he could keep track of day-to-day tasks, or maybe just important things. Then again, writing about Loop’s nightly visits would be good too! Siffrin almost didn’t realize they were done at the register, and they left the shop.

o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o

Pitching up tents had become second nature to the group by this point. Everyone pitched their respective tents, so that meant Isabeau and Siffrin were working together. They usually worked fast, but Siffrin’s mind wandered a lot this time, from his journal to Loop’s visits, his brain wouldn’t settle down…Speaking of Loop, they and Siffrin had met twice so far, the previous night’s visit being nothing out of the ordinary. It was still nice to just sit and talk with Loop and catch them up on everything that happened the past few months. He also encouraged Loop to speak about how they felt and even share their stories, but to no avail so far. Siffrin had to wonder what he could do better, would writing it down and planning it out in the journal help with that? What else could he write down to help him?

“Penny for your thoughts, Sif?” Siffrin looked at Isabeau, who gave a lopsided smile. Siffrin smirked,

“Depends. Does the ‘Big, Strong, Handsome Isabeau’ have an answer I desire?” Isabeau blushed and rubbed the back of his neck, an embarrassed chuckle leaving his lips,

“I think it’s worthy for the ‘Cute, Witty, Amazing Siffrin’.” Siffrin chuckled as well, and Isabeau continued, “I have a feeling you’re thinking about what to write in your journal.” Siffrin blinked. Isabeau was sharp as always, especially when concerning them. Siffrin scratched his cheek, a nervous smile now on his face,

“That obvious huh?” He knelt to put a peg in the ground, “It’s just…There’s so many things I could write about. There’re things we do every day, like what Bonnie cooks, Mirabelle’s fireside stories, down to us just relaxing with each other. Just…so many memories.” Isabeau hummed,

“Well, you don’t need to write down everything every day. You can start by writing down what you feel is most important.”

“But that’s the problem, everything is important.” Isabeau nodded,

“That’s true, but we’re also here to remind you of what you mentioned. Not to say you can’t write down stories and recipes that are your favorite.” Siffrin started laughing softly,

“Another problem, cause everything Bonnie cooks is my favorite.” Isabeau laughed as well,

“Point is, while every memory is special not all need to be put down on paper. Sometimes it’s best to just experience the moments instead of recording every single one.” The rouge began to understand, it did sound better when put like that. Odile seemed to have heard the tail end of the conversation and approached,

“I agree with Isabeau, in fact it’s the same with my notes. When it comes to studying, I am thorough with the details. However, since traveling with all of you I decided to put the notebook down and let the moments speak for themselves.” Isabeau nodded,

“Same here, it’s like being with my family again.” Odile raised an eyebrow with a smile,

“Well, we’re honored. I recall you have several siblings, are we as chaotic as them?” Isabeau let out another laugh,

“You’d be surprised how calm some of them are, but even if the others bounce off the walls I say that’s okay. They each have a way they like to live, it’s good to have variety in life.” Odile chuckled,

“Indeed. I’m sure they all have the Isabeau charm.” A warm compliment, but Isabeau shifted a little,

“‘Isabeau charm’ huh?” Odile tilted her head,

“Hm? Did I say something wrong?” Isabeau shook his head, a smile returning to his face,

“No, I just thought it’s better for all of them to have their own charm is all!” Siffrin frowned a little. Isabeau had been slow with becoming comfortable showing different sides of himself, and he still didn’t see many of his own good qualities. Siffrin could tell when Isabeau was thinking about himself; the wrinkle in his brow, a distant gaze in his eyes, and his hands gripped his sleeves as his arms were crossed in front of his chest. It was like Isabeau was trying to calculate how he could be better than he was, and Siffrin didn’t like that their boyfriend thought negatively about himself. They wished they could grab Isabeau’s brain by the throat and force it to think positively, but all they could do was try to distract the other when he looked too deep in thought. They weren’t as good with words like Isabeau was, so they couldn’t comfort him like the former defender did them. Maybe they could one day…Odile seemed to take in the situation, and crossed her arms,

“I agree, individuality is good. However, I think taking after you wouldn’t be a bad thing.” Isabeau looked at the woman, whose smile returned, “You have proven time and time again your care and support for others is unmatched. If your younger siblings feel that support, which I’m sure they do, I think you have done more than enough as a brother.” Isabeau looked as if he was truly taken aback by the words, before he looked down, an emotional expression lining his features,

“I…I see.” Siffrin became concerned and was going to call out when Isabeau rubbed his face down and stood up, “I’m going to see if Mira needs help with the fire! I’ll be back Sif!” Watching him go, Odile sighed,

“Did I overstep?” Siffrin shook his head,

“No, Isa would have told you, promise. He just doesn’t want to believe the good things about him.” He sounded more frustrated than he intended, but it came from a place of worry. He wished he could just hug Isabeau’s fears away, squeeze them out of the man until he felt better, but that’s not how the mind worked; Siffrin understood that better than anyone…Odile pushed her glasses up, collecting her thoughts,

“We should be there to halt that negative thinking then. I assume you wish to be on the front lines Siffrin?” Siffrin chuckled,

“You know it.”

Time had passed quickly, and dinner time had arrived to which everyone gathered around the fire to eat. Siffrin sat next to Isabeau which was normal as they were together, however tonight Siffrin wanted to make sure his boyfriend was okay after earlier. Isabeau wore a smile right now, but over time Siffrin came to understand that the man held onto feelings and thoughts for a while, mostly if it pertained to him. He never blamed Siffrin for their breakdown and horrible words, in fact Isabeau was kind of into it which was honestly amusing. However, the rogue still felt he wronged Isabeau by dragging the man’s insecurities in the dirt and laid them bare in front of them both. Isabeau didn’t deserve that at all, none of his family did, if he had just talked to them…

“Siffrin? You alright?” It was Mirabelle’s voice, and Siffrin felt their face uncrunch as they blinked a few times, they must’ve been making a bad face just now. They gave a reassuring smile,

“Sorry, I was just thinking.” Mirabelle frowned in concern, which is what Siffrin was trying to prevent,

“Do you want to talk about it?” Did they? Would it be too much with Isabeau sitting right there? Speaking of which, the man nudged Siffrin’s side with his,

“What’s up Sif?” Siffrin’s feet shuffled slightly,

“I just…Was thinking about what happened a few months back.” He decided not to bring up the specific conversation, it was probably for the best considering how Isabeau reacted earlier. Bonnie huffed,

“Well, we’ve already forgave you! You don’t got anything to worry about no more!” Siffrin smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. Bonnie frowned more, “I can tell you still don’t believe you earned it, which is your brain just being dumb!” There was a chuckle from Mirabelle,

“While I agree, Siffrin’s brain apart of him.” Bonnie shook his head,

“Frin’s not being dumb because Frin doesn’t like how this feels. He cares about us too much to keep saying all that stuff to us.” Bonnie took a bite of their food, “I don’t really know all that Frin went through, but I know that he is doing his best to get better and that’s what matters right?” Siffrin blinked, before looking down as he tried to hold back his tears. Bonnie had such a wonderful outlook on the whole thing, Siffrin hoped they kept that mindset for a long time. Odile nodded,

“I agree. You’re doing very well Siffrin, and improving on your own volition is a great step forward.” Siffrin tucked his chin in his cloak, trying to hide his embarrassment. Praise was still something he wasn’t used to, though he did really appreciate it; in fact, he adored hearing it to the point it was like an addiction. Maybe he should talk to Odile about that, it might be a problem he has…He could feel Isabeau’s sunny smile beam onto him,

“We’re very proud of you buddy. You get stronger, and cuter, everyday!” Siffrin blushed and shut his eyes tightly in embarrassment, but he giggled all the same. Bonnie stuck their tongue out, “Yick! Dile, Za and Frin are being lovey dovey again!!” Odile chuckled,

“How scandalous, whatever shall we do with them?” Mirabelle smiled, “They must listen to one of my stories as punishment!” The laugh that left Isabeau’s chest was always music to Siffrin’s ears,

“Can I stay with Siffrin while we do?” Mirabelle nodded,

“Of course!” Isabeau smiled at Siffrin. Stars, Siffrin will never get tired of looking at this wonderful man.

Mirabelle read the next issue of the Cursing of Chateau Castle they were currently on that night. Bonnie loved to make comments, but it was obvious they were very much into the story, and Odile seemed as if she was taking mental notes. Isabeau was also absorbed by the tale, Siffrin could tell from his concentrated expression which was trying to figure out what was going to come next. Siffrin loved how all of them reacted, it was very like all of them. He did already know how this tale ended, in fact the whole reason Mirabelle wanted to read the entire series with everyone was so they could react to the ending together, but Siffrin didn’t dare ruin it. It was ‘spoilers’, and he wouldn’t speak of those because Mirabelle wouldn’t appreciate them.

“Lord Joséphandre looked at his friend with despair in his eyes, ‘Don’t do this, Pierre! You can still make it!’ Pierre simply smiled at his friend before pushing the lord away to safety as his castle continued to crumble. The man, who would forever be known for his betrayal, simply walked to the back of the room and sat down, looking up at the painted picture. It was a memory of a long-forgotten past, one that was shared between old friends and could never be re-lived. He closed his eyes, and the castle’s magnificence soon crumbled to nothing.” Mirabelle closed the book, and was quiet for a while, but then she smiled, “And that’s issue #68!” Odile hummed,

“I see, a self-sacrifice from a character looking to redeem his wrongs. An old tale but I admit it was done well here.” Bonnie frowned a little,

“I don’t really get it. Couldn’t they have saved him?” Mirabelle smiled softly,

“It’s complicated Bonnie. With the whole world against Pierre, he wanted to do something that would have helped his friend. If that meant cutting off the magic that came from where his castle stood, he’d do it. The whole reason he had to die was because of the pact we learned of in issue #64.” Bonnie still looked conflicted,

“I still don’t like it.” Isabeau looked up,

“I think I get it. He wanted to protect the people he felt mattered right? In the end nothing else matter because they were all he had, even if there was no going back for him.” He closed his eyes in thought, “I can understand that.” Siffrin could too. Hell, he was willing to do terrible things if it meant keeping his family safe. It morphed into him becoming possessive, and while he was still working on how he felt about it all, he liked to think he was getting better at it. Odile stood up,

“Well then, I think it’s time we all turn in. Isabeau and Bonnie, you’re both on cleaning duty tonight.”

“On it!” Isabeau announced, and everyone else went into their respective tents. Siffrin decided to take out his journal and try to write down something. Settling down on his sleeping bag, he opened the book and began to stare at the blank page. What could he write down to start? He thought back to what Odile and Isbeau said, and perhaps it’d be easier to just keep it simple. He decided to write about how the group left town today and how he looked forward to continuing the journey with everyone. The words just flowed from there, it wasn’t exceedingly detailed, but it still felt enough. It also made Siffrin feel like he was able to keep track of everything without help from the others; his memories would be safely stored here, and he didn’t have to worry about them. Siffrin really liked writing in this journal, he wondered why he didn’t ask about these earlier. Hearing the tent rustle, he quickly finished up and placed the journal to the side. Isabeau climbed inside and laid down while Siffrin blew out the lantern. He snuggled close to Isabeau, who wrapped his arms around the shorter, and Siffrin fell asleep with no problems.

o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o

There was a warm breeze as Siffrin opened his eyes to the meadow’s grass tickling his nose as he laid on his side. He sat up to see the Favor Tree not far from him, Loop sitting underneath it as if they had been there for a while. They waved at Siffrin with a cheery grin,

“Good evening, Stardust~.” The rogue felt himself beaming at the star and he quickly got up to make his way over. This was the third time they were meeting, so he could finally believe this was going to be a normal occurrence! Thank the stars! Loop raised an eyebrow, “Well you seem chipper. Did something extraordinary happen today?” Siffrin simply chuckled,

“Well, I get to see you again, so there’s that.” Loop looked a little taken aback at Siffrin’s words, then their eyes looked away,

“I see. Well, whatever strikes your fancy I suppose.” Siffrin’s smile faded, not liking how Loop reacted. Did they not like that he was happy to see them? Perhaps they were still getting used to being back, or maybe they didn’t believe Siffrin saw them as more than a guide; he had to fix that quickly. He sat down, smiling again,

“It does make me glad to see you yes. I wanted to talk to you outside of the loops, just have normal conversations.” Loop’s gaze returned to Siffrin,

“Normal huh?” They let out a bitter laugh, “Depends on what you define as ‘normal’. Last I checked Stardust, I’m far from ‘normal’.” Watch the phrasing Siffrin. The rogue gave a reassuring smile,

“Aren’t the best people far from ‘normal’?” Loop stared at Siffrin, genuinely not knowingly what to say. They turned away again, their eyes distant,

“Not me.” Siffrin lost his smile once more. Loop sounded so convinced of what they said as if they rehearsed it like a mantra. Siffrin didn’t agree, of course; the idea settling in his chest with extreme discomfort. He clenched his hands once to quell his unease before speaking again,

“Whatever the case, I’m happy you’re here.” It was quiet between them for a while. Siffrin shuffled his feet a little before Loop said in a soft, genuine tone,

“I am happy you’re here too Stardust.” Siffrin smiled.

[the-blind-assassin-12]

Spring Cleaning Update:

Hey there, everyone! First and foremost, Happy Wednesday - I hope you’re doing well and taking care of yourselves the best way that you can.

Secondly, I figured that now o’clock seems like a good time to share some updates since it’s been a while and some things are changing.

Writing Things:

I’m going to be slowly but surely migrating to AO3 as my main fic posting place. A long ago version of me once thought that I’d keep up with posting to both places but I quickly learned that I’m a one trick pony (one site poster) and at the time, tumblr became the numero uno. But with all this talk of it not being around anymore, I’m jumping back over to the archive.

New chapters of ongoing wips will still be posted here until the wheels fall off. (until tumblr dies or the fic is finished) I’m going to start cross posting with shorter pieces/one shots, but the goal is to get it all on AO3. But until further notice, you’ll be able to find new chapters to ongoing series here as well as eventually there.

New stories will only be posted to AO3. I’ve already started this with The Contractor. I’ll still make announcement posts here when new chapters are up, again, until the wheels fall off, but new stuff will only be posted to AO3.

I’ll still be here in the meantime! My inbox is still always open, and so are my DMs. I’ll still be here to chat and gush about fictional characters and do tag games and support other writers and other members of the community and all that jazz!

But in case of fire, I’m also on discord. Same name over there, same dashes between the words. I’m not always the quickest to respond, but feel free to come say hi!

The March Fic Madness Mega Masterlist is live! Come and get your fic recs, folks! And if you’re still compiling your rec list, no worries! Send me a message or tag me whenever it’s complete and I’ll add you!

Bonus update: Currently working on Survivor Blues and The Contractor, so expect some Joel soon!

Putting the rest under the cut because it’s personal stuff and that’s probably not why you’re here.

Personal Things:

Mental health? Not good. Not going to mince words, I’ve been struggling a lot more than I ever really have before, for a longer period than I ever really have before. (I know that I’m in no way the only one going through this, especially right now with the world in the fucking toilet, and I’m so sorry to anyone else in this boat. It sucks so damn bad.) It’s been so long since I’ve actually felt like myself at this point that I’m worried that I’d walk right past her on the street. Being ground into the dirt for a prolonged time is just making it very hard to stand back up recently. I’m very lucky to have a great support system, so that does help a ton, though most days I still feel like my brain is in the dark and my lungs are shrink wrapped too tightly.

Physical health? Ha! Because of the aforementioned issues, I definitely physically feel like garbage most of the time, too. I haven’t slept a solid 6 hours in months at this point and I look it. I’ve also lost weight that I didn’t want/couldn’t really afford to lose, and I look it. Headaches and racing heartbeats have become a new normal that I absolutely hate. The very second that I have access to healthcare (unfortunately I’m uninsured at the moment) I will be seeking medical help for both the mental and the physical issues, but until then I’m doing what I can to keep on trucking.

Okay two bad things are enough, how about a good one? I’m starting to focus a little more of my attention and energy (when I can) on some original fiction! I’m challenging myself to submit pieces to writing contests as well as literary magazines, and I’m planning to partake in nanowrimo this November. My first deadline for a flash fiction (1k words or under) contest is in a few days, and it’s a spooky themed event!

Okay! I think we’re all good and caught up, now. (Bad and caught up, too.) If you have made it this far, please know that I’m sending you a hug through the internets. 🫂 💚

[desb3ar]

Night Terrors

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x Reader

Summary: You had a nightmare.

Warning: Chasing, animalistic actions, dark themes

Word count: 800+ (Short)

Your legs were on fire, pushing against the hard ground with overpowering adrenaline fueling your vessel. Your mind screamed madly at you to not let your taunting exhaustion prevail. There was a barreling threat on your shortening trail, hungry and desperate. The mindless monster seeks salvation through you, tasting whatever you have in store within the confines of your warm, sweaty skin. Your mouth ran dry when you heard the grunts and callouts, begging you to escape from your goal of finally getting away from him. You didn’t give in to his harrowing pleas, your instinct wouldn’t allow it.

Caught in his web and getting out every time, it was a repetitive hell that made surrendering seem like heaven. You told yourself, what was the point? Why even try? It felt like an endless, hellish game of cat and mouse and you got trapped no matter how careful you were to not trip, slip, fall, and fumble. Still, he didn’t catch you. You were far too slippery for him.

What could be done? His heightened senses laughed at you trying to hide from him. He could sniff you out in seconds, he could see you in the dark corners that had lied about the promised safety it would provide. He could hear the trembling breath you tried to quiet down, making catching your breath merely a death sentence. Before your lungs could replenish the sweet air back into its longing cavities, you were instantly caught. His face of pure malice and twisted intent shows up in mere seconds once you’ve recovered. Nothing worked, everything was against you. Everything.

You ran down to the empty streets of the underground, your legs begging for rest as you seek restlessly for refuge. Looking around as you moved with haste. Your eyes darted anywhere that could at least postpone your death. Keeping yourself together and yet you began to think that running for this long seemed to be useless knowing your end was inevitable. He will catch you.

Your legs, mind, arms, and whole being were riddled with hopelessness. There was nothing you could do against him. Your web shooters had nothing else to provide after you made an attempt to trap him instead, only for him to slash through the material like butter and run to you like nothing you’ve seen before. He was an animal, a carnivore neglected, trapped in a cage that finally was freed from the bars of the enclosure it had remained. Ribs showed through the skin, eyes wide with need for food, all things blurred in its vicinity, nothing wasn’t a victim to its terror it rained upon the poor people it encountered or sniffed out.

Your eyes threatened to spill more tears, blurring your vision as you, like you were a small-minded character only capable of performing horror movie cliches, made your way down an alleyway. Your last resort. You didn’t know why you tried. These horrifying moments end the same way, no matter how much you tried to counter it. You were in a dim corner, right beside rotting garbage, you felt your stomach turn at the odor. However, that didn’t grant a huge effect like the beety red eyes did when they locked onto you like he already knew exactly where you were. It only just now clicked with you that he had an AI. Telling him every detail he needed to know to secure his prize.

This meant that everything you did was pointless.

Your doom was sealed as he came down with such haste that you didn’t even have time to scream. Not here.

.

.

.

.

“...”

.

.

“... (Y/N)...”

.

.

“(Y/N)...!”

.

“(Y/N)!!!”

You were shaken awake. You heard the sounds of Miguel’s voice, it sounded like he was struggling, and you felt his hands try to hold you still, pressing hard on your shoulders with a tight grip. You were screaming at the top of your lungs, from the scratchiness of your throat, you’ve been doing so for ages.

"Baby! Open your eyes!" He pleaed. Just like in the dream.

You opened your eyes, greeted by Miguel’s gentle expression that was filled with fear and overbearing concern. Your yelling ceased, chest going up and down. You felt he had his body weight pressed down on your legs, his solution to keep your legs from flailing around, as if you were trying to run from your unforgiving mind. His worried eyes darted at your face which was drenched in sweat and tears. You had finally calmed down enough to utter his name. 

“(Y/N)...” He melted, arms wrapping around you, holding you close like you had almost died. 

He had been awake the entire time you had your dream, the sounds of distress bleeding past your lips stifled him awake. The way your calm body had progressively gotten restless genuinely scared him stiff.

You looked at him, unable to make sense of the sudden contrast of how he was in your dream and how he was now. 

Miguel O’Hara, your love, your partner you’d fight demons for, had torn into you in your dreams. How he’s comforting you. Nothing made sense to you.

Why? -

-

-

-

Aaaaa. You didn't see that coming, did you? Well, surprise! That was something I've been wanting to write about for... A literal second. I'm in class rn as of typing this lol. Some horror for the holidays. Bound to get you in the spirit! ;D

I HOPE YOU LIKED THE READ!!

i'll try and make some art of this when I got time <33

[quitealotofsodapop]

it has been awhile, but I've finally gotten around to doing another one of these! hope it will help with my writing funk.

[and is super guilty for not having told him back then. At the same time, Wukong is confused why Max seems so... ok with it suddenly???] + [He ultimately doesnt want to open up any old wounds Wukong has from the incident since he's been living with the outcome of that fight far longer than Mac has.] + [Why was Wukong protecting the monk that hurt him? Why was Wukong going on this Journey and not returning to his throne? Why did he hide the Stone Egg from the world?]

honestly? Wukong is probably more concerned by how okay with having been killed Mac is than he would be if he was still upset and causing problems because of it. I feel like Wukong would actually be very ok with talking/answering any questions about what happened, it'd be a hard conversation for sure, but he's grown to have enough emotional maturity to know it's a necessary one. the only reason he let Mac get away with pushing it off for so long to the point of it blowing up in there faces a little was because he was trying to let the other have time to process and work out how he felt before trying to hash things out together.

but perhaps, Wukong is also deflecting a little, worried that trying to talk about it would spur into an argument. neither of them are very good at listening to each other when they get riled up, and after how their fight went... he knows he did his best trying to talk Macaque down, but he always kinda feels like he should've tried harder. he just doesn't want things to get out of control again.

[Ao Lie and Wukong are quickly panicking over each other while their other bros are forcing them to rest after the Samadhi Fire Ritual.]

the Tripataka forces them both onto bedrest, but it's a combined effort of the uninjured pilgrims to keep them there considering how restless Wukong can be. between Wukong and Ao Lie? it's an endless cycle of "no, I'll get up and ask for water, you stay in bed" and "no, I'll grab the extra blankets, you need to rest".

[Wukong was in so much pain that he was convinced that he was going into labor, or that he even lost Yuebei as a result of joining in the Ritual.]

now I'm just picturing the others waking up to Wukong (who normally has a very high pain tolerance) loudly sobbing from how much it hurts and inconsolable because once the thought of having lost the egg even crossed his mind he became convinced that's what happened. he must have cried so hard, they'd have to call Guanyin to do a check-up while he's still sobbing to show him the egg is fine for him to even begin to calm down.

[Nezha makes note of hiding anything flammable whenever he visits the monkeys.]

it does seem Yuebei has a taste for the spicy-er things, huh. wonder if she'd like any of Redson's cooking?

[Pigsy: "Sure thing. Guess little monkeys aren't much different from little MKs." *gives Yuebei her nose back*]

heh- funny thing about that pigsy-

[Memory!Ao Lie, frowning: "Why are you so stubborn to admit that it wasn't your fault? I really truly never blamed you, or her." Wukong, crying: "Why were you so ok with it? Because of me, the Samadhi Fire it... hurt you."]

Wukong has had a real rough go with people ditching him after one mistake, real or even just perceived mistakes alike, and messing up the ritual and letting the fire hurt Ao Lie? a monumental fuck-up to almost anyone you ask. Wukong, rather unfortunately, has very good reason for believing Ao Lie would hate or resent him for it, anyone else would. he's grown used to it, apathetic, maybe even has grown to expect it.

as it is, this means Wukong has a very hard time understanding/grasping it when someone doesn't hate him over things like this.

[Ofc Nezha feels like garbage for treating Wukong's actions during the Ritual as a failing.]

worst part is, Wukong doesn't treat him like he was wrong. when it gets brought up he talks about matter-of-factly, nonchantly, like it was no big deal that he was in pain, at risk of sacrificing his unborn egg and basically everyone aside from the pilgrims was treating him like he was the ultimate disappointment.

this is in part due to Wukong's own guilt over the ritual, insecurities about being enough/strong enough, and because he, again, doesn't blame Ne Zha because he didn't know about the egg because Wukong never told him and therefore, it's actually on his shoulders .

(Wukong needs a therapist)

[The Spider Gang has nightmares of Guanyin coming to beat the rest of them up like she's a Jojo stand.]

they're so terrified that they basically start praying to Guanyin- more so begging to be left alone, but still.

[To hear that Wukong has named her his little "Moon Comet Star" just makes him cry harder, especially with how casually Wukong names her.] + [But I bet Wukong is just so happy that he tells everyone Yuebei's name long before that time.]

I think Wukong probably had a lot of trouble coming up with names before Yuebei was born, nothing just ever seemed right! he honestly tried not to think about why the only ones that ever seemed to be good candidates were space/moon related names. but then Macaque came back. he stopped denying it at that point, and just went all for it. no matter how things with Mac end up going, Wukong probably already had the name chosen by the time he came back from looking for the map. And yeah, Macaque loves the idea that this was always Wukong's plan, and Wukong being just as happy about the name is also just so cute to him!

[It's PIF anf DBK's fave baby photo of Yuebei - besides the one where she tried eating Red Son's hair.]

oooooo what do you think would be everyone else's fav baby photos of Yuebei?

[and when he gets to Camel Ridge, he pauses before looking towards Wukong for confirmation. At Wukong's excited nod, Macaque grins evily.] + [Macaque also deliberately exaggerates the voices of their allies like PIF and DBK so Yuebei doesn't accidentally associate their voices with the muddy past shown in the book.]

let's be real, Peng's voice is the most bastardized.

love the fact that Macaque doesn't even really have to ask, Wukong already knows what he's planning and is living for it. Wukong enjoys the retelling almost as much as Yuebei does, if only for Macaque's dramatics. and doing his best to change her perception of their current allies? a very appreciated effort.

[Azure is clueless and isn't sure if monkey cubs work like lion cubs or not. Yellow Tusk has the sense to ask the remaining servants for help with tending to the infant - a group of seven brave orchard maidens stepped forward to run the baby a bath and prepare her a meal. Yellow Tusk is sure that he recognises them.]

so long pining for a monkey and he has no clue how they work or how to care for one. at least Yellowtusk is at least a little bit sensible. and ah! the peach orchard maidens Wukong was friends with! imagine if this was their first proper intro to Yuebei. they've never met but they know this is their old friends child so the seven will do anything for her, take on as many responsibilities as it takes to keep Yuebei out of Azure's claws as long as they can.

they don't like any of the brotherhood, but tusk at least seems remorseful enough to consider him safe enough to help bathe the little infant- with supervision of course. Yuebei latching to his trunk was probably as funny to them (at Yellow tusk's expense) as it was heartbreaking because they could probably recognize the behavior for what it was due to their time spent with the Monkey King.

at least Yuebei's comes out of it thinking/feeling very positively about peach maidens.

[So when the elephant gently put Yuebei in the warm bathwater and offered her mashed fruit, she instinctively clasped around his trunk like it was the arm of her parents, making sad hooing sounds as she sucked on her fingers. Yellow Tusk felt his heart break at the sight. He simply cannot fathom harming her in any sense of the word.]

oh no, Yuebei's sucking her finger, means she's missing her mama. imagine if after her rescue Wukong/macaque notice she's developed a small oral fixation from the trauma of her kidnapping.

I wonder if Yellow Tusk ever looks down at this tiny monkey and has an epiphany about how he treated Monkey King and Macaque, or the treatment of them he was at least complacent in. those two were never truly infants sure, but they were young minds, perhaps the thought had never crossed his mind because they're looks were deceiving when it came to age. how young had they truly been? what age were the children the brotherhood sent to war and martyred?

perhaps it doesn't matter anymore, the chance at redemption long forgotten, but at least he knows i his heart of hearts he will not make the mistake again. even if it means betraying those he's held dear for so long...

[Mac would make a show of picking up his baby girl and kissing her all over while commenting in baby-talk; "Did you have fun with the birdy and kitty, moonlight? Yeah? Do you want Bama to take something to remember your little play date?"]

the fact that Macaque baby-talks to the obvious victor only makes Peng's humiliation worse. Imagine getting turned into ground beef by an infant and her dad comes in and makes it all the more real that you were beaten by a less-than-a-year-old baby by outright baby talking her in front of you. like you always were and always would be nothing but literal child's play to deal with that you weren't even deserving of having your defeat be treated seriously, no. your opponent gets baby talk congratulations.

Macaque will forever tell the story of Peng's defeat when having proud dad bragging moments.

[Macaque has one of the feathers preserved as a bookmark. It brings him great joy.]

he takes a couple feathers for himself, makes a few different things out of them, like a quill. but he also made one or two for other people like Wukong and of course Yuebei's toy. they all bring him (and the receivers of the gifts) great joy.

prev.

yesyesyes some SlowBoiled thoughts! Also btw I've shortened what parts I'm replying to for brevity.

[honestly? Wukong is probably more concerned by how okay with having been killed Mac is than he would be if he was still upset and causing problems because of it...] + [but perhaps, Wukong is also deflecting a little, worried that trying to talk about it would spur into an argument... ...he just doesn't want things to get out of control again.]

YES

A big reason for their fight just as S4 starts is the fact they're avoiding some pretty big glaring questions/concerns to "avoid conflict", only to hurt themselves and each other more by deflecting. Sometime avoiding confrontation is more harmful than tackling your demons head-on and de-escalating any anger that it brings up as it comes. Wukong would be ok answering any questions Mac needed to be answered, but the real hard part is getting both monkeys in a space where they can vent it out a bit without one or both trying to portal away from an escalating conversation.

A good marriage counsellor needs to take on Wukong and Macaque's case and let the monkeys honestly Talk for a while without interruption.

Yue Lao, god of marriage & true love: "Diiiid someone call for marriage help?" :3

[the Tripataka forces them both onto bedrest, but it's a combined effort of the uninjured pilgrims to keep them there considering how restless Wukong can be. between Wukong and Ao Lie? it's an endless cycle of "no, I'll get up and ask for water, you stay in bed" and "no, I'll grab the extra blankets, you need to rest".] +[now I'm just picturing the others waking up to Wukong (who normally has a very high pain tolerance) loudly sobbing... ...he must have cried so hard, they'd have to call Guanyin to do a check-up while he's still sobbing to show him the egg is fine for him to even begin to calm down.]

Aww. It's very sweet but also kinda sad to think about. Eventually Ao Lie and Wukong are both too exhausted from their escape attempts, so the rest of the Pilgrims tap in to tend to them.

And the miscarriage scare!! PIF had opened up to Wukong in the last few weeks about how she and Bull had suffered tragic losses before Red came into the world - and when Wukong feels that terrible pain in his body, he immediately breaks down at the thought of suffering the same loss. Guanyin has to check in since Wukong won't stop hyperventilating and crying at the idea that he lost Yuebei. The goddess thankfully is able to confirm that the soul within the egg was alive and well, just very startled by the surge of power. Wukong still cries, now from relief.

Sadly, if the Samadhi ritual occurred after Macaque's death, Wukong likely saw the Egg as the final reminder of his former-mate. Yuebei is his little moonlight, even if her creation was not ideal.

[it does seem Yuebei has a taste for the spicy-er things, huh. wonder if she'd like any of Redson's cooking?]

Now I'm thinking of a scene where post-S3/4, Red Son is messing around in the kitchen with MK and Mei while they're babysitting Yuebei. Cue the baby grabbing a handful of spicy bbq sauce Red Son has been preparing and shove it in her mouth like it's nothing. All three are speechless with terror as Yuebei doesn't appear to be bothered in the slightest. Then she tries going for more!

Red Son quickly moves his sauce pot away and wonders aloud if he's skipped an ingredient. MK takes a spoonful, and with his face sweating profusely wheezes "Nope. That's Australian-level."

Yuebei whines for some more, and all three now understand why she keeps trying to eat firey things. DBK laughes proudly when he's told about it later on - nothing less from his dear godcalf!

[heh- funny thing about that pigsy-]

Lets just say a lot about MK's upbringing makes more sense after Pigsy realises that his son is a monkey demon XD

[Wukong has had a real rough go with people ditching him after one mistake, real or even just perceived mistakes alike... ...this means Wukong has a very hard time understanding/grasping it when someone doesn't hate him over things like this.]

THIS is why Ao Lie and the Samadhi Fire arc are so important to Wukong's character. He has such trouble understanding that sometimes people who care won't hold your mistakes real or perceived against you. Ao Lie likely told Wukong to his face multiple times that he didn't care that Wukong "screwed up", he was just glad that Wukong, the Egg, and Tripitaka were alive and well after all things considered.

[worst part is, Wukong doesn't treat him like he was wrong... ....(Wukong needs a therapist)]

The fact that Wukong doesn't mind that Nezha treated his failure that way all those years ago, makes Nezha even more concerned in the modern day!

yes yes he does.

[they're so terrified that they basically start praying to Guanyin- more so begging to be left alone, but still.]

Guanyin can only grant the Spider Gang a swift end and perhaps a revival after S3. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[I think Wukong probably had a lot of trouble coming up with names before Yuebei was born,...]

Wukong is bad at naming things I feel. He did call himself "Grimpil Sun" when he pretended to be a different monkey in the Gold-Silver Twins chapter. Even after over a thousand years of prep, he's still undecided what he'd should call his Egg once they arrive.

He's called Yuebei his "little moonlight", his "star", and his "comet" since long before he finally decided on her name. And when Macaque came back into his life and confirmed that he wanted both of them to be safe? His little "Moon Comet Star" just made sense - she indirectly brought his Moonlight back to him.

[oooooo what do you think would be everyone else's fav baby photos of Yuebei?]

hehehe!

For Wukong it's any photo of Yuebei. Look at his daughter! She's here! She's so perfect! Has one of those giant wallets full of photos of her.

Macaque's favorite is one Mei snapped of Yuebei just after the baby had destroyed Peng and Azure - the cub's eyes gleaming with delight at seeing her Bama again, her mouth full of golden feathers. He also treasures a photo he took of Wukong just after Yuebei's egg was born - his Peaches smiling contentedly as he curls around the egg.

MK's is when Yuebei saw him put away the Staff, and she tried looking inside his ear for it.

Mei is taking so many photos all the time, so it's hard for her to have faves. One of her faves though is a pair of photos where Yuebei is completely calm and about to fall asleep, and then her eyes are glowing with eye-lasers cus a bang in the kitchen scared her. Mei uses it as a reaction meme.

For Pigsy its a photo of Yuebei attempting to eat her first mooncake - the pastry was bigger than her whole head. Chang'e took the photo and just knew Pigsy would love it.

Tang's is the one of MK holding Yuebei for the first time, tears and snot running down the older monkey-boy's face while Yuebei looks up at him curiously. Tang thinks it's hilarious.

Sandy's fave is Yuebei taking a curious sip of tea from her mama's cup, and frowning hard when she realised it wasn't as nice as milk. Also one where Yuebei and Mo got distracted by the same cat toy - seems that the baby girl likes attacking things with feathers.

PIF and DBK's faves are well known ofc. Red Son would claim that he doesn't have any, but secretly its one where the baby monkey is playing peekaboo with DBK. It just really heart-warming to see his father interact with Yuebei after missing out on a lot of Red's childhood. Red looks at the photo and wonders if his father ever tried such games on him. (He did. Baby Red Son exploded)

Jiuweihuli and the twins love any photo Wukong shares with them. The old Vixen's favourite is where Macaque managed to get Yuebei into an elaborate baby costume (lots of bribery with mashed peaches was involved) and the baby is just happily sticking her tongue out at the camera.

It takes Bai He a while to warm up to Yuebei all the way, but she likes the photo of Yuebei when she first met Mo. The cat was very cautious and the baby monkey was just fascinated.

The gods themselves get rare glimpses of Sun Wukong's baby. Nezha's fave is a short video of Yuebei's first ever swimming lesson - decked out in all the little floaties as she doggie-paddled in the kiddie pool, Wukong smiling and holding his arms out for her while Macaque filmed. Nezha loves it not only for it's content, but for how happy Wukong finally is after so long. He blesses Yuebei many times over for good fortune and safety.

[let's be real, Peng's voice is the most bastardized. love the fact that Macaque doesn't even really have to ask, Wukong already knows what he's planning and is living for it. Wukong enjoys the retelling almost as much as Yuebei does, if only for Macaque's dramatics. and doing his best to change her perception of their current allies? a very appreciated effort.]

Macaque turns Peng's voice into a harsh nasally sound with random squawks thrown in like a cartoon parrot.

Wukong and Macaque have a near psychic connection as a couple once they start cohabitating again (and deal with emotional stuff). Wukong cannot deny his Plums the chance to make fun of their former brothers. Wukong even gets in on it, mimicking his own younger self and a some of the Pilgrims in a silly voice. Yuebei loves story time.

[so long pining for a monkey and he has no clue how they work or how to care for one. at least Yellowtusk is at least a little bit sensible... ...at least Yuebei's comes out of it thinking/feeling very positively about peach maidens.]

Azure is an orange male cat at his core - he's standing there, holding Yuebei by her diaper and wondering "What now?" while Peng covers their beak. Yellowtusk atleast has the wisdom to ask around the palace for help when Yuebei starts getting fussy. And since Peng confirms that the Memory Scroll "took the cupbearers as well" in the special, the Orchard Maidens are running themselves ragged to ensure that the invaders are content, and by proxy Yuebei safe. Not many are aware of their familial connection to the Emperor on first glance, so they quickly disguise themselves as "just" servants that escaped the Scroll.

So when Yellowtusk approaches almost shyly for help to feed and clean the baby hostage, the girls knew they made the right choice to stay. The seven maidens had taken one look at the baby monkey, saw the power she wielded, and just knew she was their dear didi's baby. '

The Maidens provide a character statement for Yellowtusk once everything is said and done. Afterall, the elephant allowed his trunk to be nearly crushed if it meant the baby girl had comfort.

Oh oh! Imagine in the aftermath of S4, Wukong manages to ask Yellowtusk who cared for Yuebei while she was hostage?

Yellowtusk, in cuffs about to be taken away: "I tried my best, but without the aid of the seven Orchard Maidens I likely wouldn't have fared much better than my brothers." Wukong: "Orchard Maidens?" Seven distinct voices: "Didi!" Wukong turns to see the seven snake-cat-like celestials running towards him, their appearances unkempt from worry. They carefully check him and Yuebei over. Orchard Maidens: "Oh thank buddha you're ok!" "We were so worried!" "After what happened to baba we..." "We couldn't bare to leave her alone with them!" Wukong, touched: "You all stayed behind, knowing that you shared the halls with the lion that took your father away, just to make sure my baby was ok?" Orchard Maidens: "Of course!" "You're a fellow attendant!" "Aiyi would have broken her vow of pacifism if either of you were truly hurt!" "We knew she was yours just from the way she... shot lasers out her eyes." Wukong, tearing up: "Oh girls..." Wukong & the Maidens: (*all group hug, careful to give Yuebei some space*)

Yuebei considers the Maidens akin to aunties since they care for her so well and clearly have a good relationship with her mama. This indirectly leads to the mourning Xiwangmu to see the baby girl as a surrogate granddaughter once they are properlly introduced. Yuebei recognises something in the Queen Mother's heart is hurt and wants to hug and kiss it better. Xiwangmu in turn can only reminice on the times she and her dear Jade held their own cubs in their arms, the dawn of their empire.

[oh no, Yuebei's sucking her finger, means she's missing her mama... ... he knows i his heart of hearts he will not make the mistake again. even if it means betraying those he's held dear for so long...]

Yesss. Baby monkey who are separate from their mothers develop oral fixations/self-soothing behaviors, which is still seen if they successfully gain a foster mom/is returned. It's a learned habit. Now I'm imagining Yuebei becoming super attached to her pacifer long after she's weaned, just because its such a source of comfort for her. Wukong and Macaque had to ask around a bit to try and figure out how to wean Yuebei off the pacifer once her milk teeth started growing in.

Yellowtusk's redemption is very internal, but it reflects heavily in his actions. After the days of caring for Yuebei, and coming to realise how they as a Brotherhood treated their monkey brethern, Yellowtusk starts on the path of reversing the damage caused by the coup. Even if the Heavens never forgive him, he is ultimately glad that his brothers and their families are safe - a far greater reward than what Azure's plans brought him.

Note; in situations where the Brotherhood survive/are captured after S4 - I feel like the Buddha pulls a Jttw on them and suddenly theres three circlets on their heads for the next few millennium. >:)

[the fact that Macaque baby-talks to the obvious victor only makes Peng's humiliation worse... Macaque will forever tell the story of Peng's defeat when having proud dad bragging moments.] +[he takes a couple feathers for himself, makes a few different things out of them, like a quill. but he also made one or two for other people like Wukong and of course Yuebei's toy. they all bring him (and the receivers of the gifts) great joy.]

HAHA! XD

Peng ain't ever going to live down being turned into chicken paste by a baby monkey. A bunch of celestial soldiers and servants saw how the Six Eared Macaque waltzed in, picked up the baby monkey, and cooed at her while Peng lay broken upon the floor. Yuebei isn't some disguised immortal or god, she's a baby. One that quickly falls asleep in her parents arms once they're all reunited.

Macaque is so keeping a few of Peng's feathers as trophies. The quill idea is amazing - he'd sign everything with it. Wukong gets a cute broach made with one of the golden feathers intertwined, and thinks its beautiful (if a little arrogant but hey he loves trophies). Yuebei has a toy thats 80% feathers she's ripped from Peng, and 20% string and cloth that looks like a kitten toy - it's her fave thing besides her plush skeleton toy. Macaque sends Xiwangmu a few feather quills along with a letter of condolence - it brings her some comfort (as does the lion hide she drapes on her shoulder).

tysm for asking in! Its ok to take breaks from writing if we need it. I'm just glad that we can shoot ideas back and forth.

[something-like-a-heart]

I often reblog political posts, but I rarely make my own. Today… well, I’m right pissed off and I need to say something.

The news has been full of that mouldy Cheeto who once again occupies an office he should never have been given access to. And lately it’s especially been full of the tariffs that he’s slapped on my country and on Mexico for no good reason. Because let’s get real: it’s never been about fentanyl or illegal immigration. He’s been disturbingly clear about this since before he was sworn in again: he wants to annex Canada (I assume for our abundance of natural resources) and he’s using an unjustified and probably illegal trade war to try to do it. When the leaders of my country retaliated, as they well should, he threatened further tariffs on top of what he’s already put into place. And from what I read this morning, one of his cronies has recently made vague allusions to a more concrete form of war as well. It’s hard not to read a threat in that.

Canada’s not perfect, but we don’t deserve this attack on our sovereignty. And most of us are justifiably angry about this betrayal of what had been a mutually beneficial arrangement for a very long time. We’re on the defensive now, but a lot of us are spoiling for a fight. Because nothing binds this country together more strongly than an attack against us from an outside source, especially when that source is America. Just as the Americans never really forgot about Manifest Destiny, we’ve never forgotten about being in that particular line of fire. Most of us are none too pleased about being a target for American conquest again.

Of course, there are some Canadians who would actually quite like to see us lose our independence. From what I can see, those people are either wealthy (or sucking up to people who are) or they’ve got their heads so far up their asses that they think that it’s Justin Trudeau’s fault every time they stub their toes or misplace their car keys. Most of what I’ve seen, though, whether it’s in the news (even the National Post, which at one point ran an opinion piece that stated that becoming the 51st state might not be so bad), on Facebook, or even on Reddit, shows how absolutely fucking pissed a sizeable majority of Canadians are that an ego-driven sickly orange sack of greed and arrogance has decided that he wants our country to give in to his bullying. He seems rather affronted that we have so far refused to do so.

The sheer scale of contempt that I’ve seen for the idea is almost surprising. Not long ago, I thought that Canada might pull ourselves apart among Québec’s ongoing disdain for anything Anglophone or non-white, the Western provinces’ frequent griping about the distribution of federal transfers, Northern Ontario’s eternal frustration with Southern Ontario politicians, and Eastern Canada’s perennially fragile economies. These things have been reduced to family squabbles in the face of the current threat to our existence as a nation. I don’t think I’ve ever seen such an outpouring of Canadian patriotism, and I have to admit that I am wondering how long it can last, especially once the inevitable economic hardship really sets in. But Canadians can be stubborn, and maybe we can see this through.

As for me, I’m incredibly angry. That shitheel has no right to threaten us. And as much as several of my country’s leaders have said that Canadians aren’t mad at Americans, I absolutely am mad at every American who looked at their ballot and decided that they’d rather have another round of Prez 45 than an actual sane human being who isn’t, you know, a fucking convicted felon. I am angry at every American who could have voted but decided not to and who might have stopped this disaster of a man from getting back into the White House. And I am absolutely fucking furious at every American who looks at what that noxious bag of festering garbage is trying to do to us and thinks that it’s a great and reasonable idea, and that the path to American prosperity lies in the destruction of Canada. May all of those people step on LEGO blocks in their bare feet every day for the rest of their lives. And if any of them are following me—do us both a favour and stop. I don’t want anything to do with you.

To any Americans who may see this who do not applaud the rancid bully’s behaviour or intentions, I see you and I appreciate you and I hope that you will do what you can to stop him. I have no say in the politics of your country, but you do. Please use that voice not just to defend us, but also yourselves. His policies and that DOGE bullshit are already doing immense damage to your country. Write letters. Organize. Be as much of a pain in the ass for them as you can be. Your protest movements made waves in the past. You can do it again.

And to any of my fellow Canadians who may see this: elbows up, folks. We got through the worst of COVID-19 by working together and watching out for each other. We can do it again. In the immortal words of Red Green, “Remember, I’m pulling for you. We’re all in this together.”

🇨🇦

[chaifootsteps]

I know it's been said before but do you think it's definitely the case that Stolas is Viv's self insert, or she's at least seriously projecting on him?

it just seems so unintentionally revealing that the only way the writing makes sense anymore is if Viv genuinely doesn't think Stolas' flaws are flaws. She thinks he's behaving either in a totally understandable way or that his issues are minor quirks at worst

he spent the entirety of apology tour being petty and awful in a way he hasn't been since s1, but in a worse way in some respects because he obviously thinks he's in the right

he acts like he's owed Blitz's love and loyalty even when he was just using him, he has complete and total disregard for the lives of anyone he can't use in some fashion, he's rich and privileged and in complete denial about the power that gives him over other people, he treats people like garbage only to gaslight them about it after the fact, he's been told multiple times he's the problem only to reject it or act the victim again five minutes later, he acts like a petty mean girl and is a total hypocrite about numerous things, he expects to be easily forgiven when he asks for it even if he gives the most wormy non apology ever

so much of this maps so cleanly onto the way people describe Viv - that she's dismissive or outright hostile to anyone who aren't her favorites, that she treats people like expendable work machines, that she feels entitled to have people work for little pay and hates when they complain, that she shit talks or abuses friends only to turn around and be nice to them again

I try and take discord screenshots with a grain of salt until confirmed but there's a whole lot of smoke around the way Viv acts and her writing is so incompetent it can't help but feel a bit revealing about the way she views power and what right and wrong is. I can't help but think it's just going to grow into fire as NDAs expire

and as far as hb has gone lately, right and wrong are just 'how much does this character suck up to Stolas, accept lousy treatment from him or stick their neck out for him'. It's more than just the show worshipping power and treating it as self justifying, it worships this one rich character who just happens to be the victim of basically everyone else

I don't think Stolas started out as Viv's self-insert and I don't even know that she's doing it intentionally, but he definitely reeks of the way she handles conflict and views her place in the world.

Stolas's entire deal is that he's "trying," that he "feels bad" for his mistakes and he's totally sorry and won't do it again, even as it becomes increasingly apparent to the audience that he really isn't, that he keeps repeating the mistakes he's ostensibly sorry for, and that he's getting worse. That's Viv to a T, whose last apology was in 2019 -- and it was one of those "Sorry you think I'm the actual worst and that I can't do anything right" apologies -- and who's never apologized since. Viv, whose biggest enemy is herself and whose most outspoken critics have been her maltreated former employees.

Stolas in Viv's mind is a little insensitive sometimes, longing for love, and up against a world (both in-universe and out) full of unfair, unkind people who just don't understand him. Stolas in actuality is manipulative, a gaslighting liar, and most of the characters who speak out against him have considerably less power and privilege and have been hurt by him.

Remind you of anyone?