#which is admittedly as unimpressive as it sounds

[numetaljackdog]

headphones grins

[augusgus]

he only wants to play (m.)

In which you attach a leash to Dottore's harness but fail to take into account that not every dog can be tamed. Alternatively: he bites.

pairing: dottore x fem!reader

tags: biting, finger sucking, reader's a bit of a brat, does this count as pet play?? mock pet play?? things mistakenly filed under pet play???

a/n: happy april fools day

Dottore was enjoying the silence. It was a rare moment of peace. Until it suddenly wasn't.

A click. And then, "gotcha!"

Admittedly, it took him a moment to comprehend the situation in its entirety, and that there was now a leash attached to the harness on his upper body. A leash that, when he trailed along it with his eyes, led to your hand holding it.

And the mischievous grin on your face as you tilted your head to the side.

"Aren't you a pretty boy," you cooed, reaching with your free hand to pat his hair before jumping to sit on the desk in front of him. Your feet were dangling from the edge and much too close to his pristine white suit to his liking. Not that he seemed to have a say in this situation anyway.

Tugging slightly on the leash, you tested the waters. But you were lucky and he wasn't annoyed so much as simply unimpressed with your little performance, and maybe - not that he'd admit to it - even a little intrigued.

You crossed your legs over each other and, smiling brightly, pulled on the leash again - only this time a lot stronger than before and Dottore found himself leaning forward, his head automatically raising to look up to you. You puckered your lips at him in an imitation of a kiss.

"Now, give me a bark, pretty please~"

He scoffed.

"And why, pray tell, would I want to do that?" It was the first time he'd opened his mouth ever since you'd disturbed his solitude and it showed in his tone. He sounded dry, very dry, almost sarcastic.

Because he sure as hell didn't want to... bark.

This time, you tilted your head to the other side, blinking big innocent eyes at him. "How do I put this..." You pretended to think, index finger lightly tapping against your lower lip, but he could fathom the curl at the outer corners of your mouth. "There might be a way for you to get a lot more funding for your research! Though there's still some, should I say, cajoling to do?" You grinned, "you know, for assurance."

He kept quiet for a moment. As a scholar, nothing should be put above knowledge, and gaining access to said knowledge, in terms of importance. If he let a promising opportunity for funding go to waste, it would be more than merely irresponsible. It'd be downright stupid and he prided himself on being a little more intelligent than that. Not even his pride was to take precedence over this duty that he knew himself to be bound by.

Not even his pride...

He winced inwardly.

"...Woof."

The way the word rolled over his tongue was crisp with thinly veiled distaste and reluctance. You didn't think you'd ever heard something pronounced this harshly.

A giggle erupted from your mouth before you could hold it back. "What a good boy! Now, hand!"

Holding out your own hand, you eagerly waited for him to put his gloved one in yours. Only to be surprised when he instead interlaced his fingers with yours to pull you towards him and off the desk with a calculated tug. You almost fell onto his lap, stumbling over his outstretched legs, though you were able to brace yourself against his chest with your free arm. Your eyes widened when you found yourself face to face to Dottore.

He grinned as he slowly guided both of your hands towards his mouth, easing them until your palm rested against his cheek, the tips of your fingers just about brushing over the edge of his mask. Turning his head slightly, he leaned into your touch and it was already too late when alarm bells started to ring in your head at his sudden affection, for you to stop him from roughly digging his teeth into your palm.

"Ah?" The sound you made was fleeting, an involuntary reaction, and you could feel his lips forming a lazy smile against your skin. He let go, deep indentations left on your palm.

"Hm? Not what you wanted?"

The smug satisfaction in his voice made you scowl. But when you tried to pull your hand back he held it pressed against his cheek, grip not wavering the slightest even as you kept tugging.

"Perhaps..." He hummed, "ah, would you have me do this instead?"

Nuzzling his nose against your palm, he slowly kissed over the bite marks, lips cool and firm on your heated skin. You couldn't see his eyes but you felt the heaviness of his gaze, the unspoken challenge in it, as he eventually lifted your hand from his face only to tighten his hold around your wrist almost painfully.

You gave him a pout, "le'go. You're s'pposed to be obedient, you're no fun like that."

"Oh?" His voice was laden with condescension. "Aren't I a good boy?"

The huff caught in your throat when he raised your fingers to his lips and without warning sucked your thumb into his mouth.

It felt warm and wet and heat flooded your face with embarrassment at how the pressure of his tongue sent shivers down your back. How you lost the strength in your knees when he grazed along the skin with his teeth - the amusement that was radiating off of him as palpable as the slight trembling in your limbs that you couldn't seem to control.

He released your thumb with a quiet pop and a string of saliva connected to his lips before he pressed a sloppy kiss against the tip.

"Still not a good boy?" He drawled, the patronising smirk he sent you positively arrogant. "My, how difficult. Behaving doesn't appear to be my forte, don't you think?"

Lifting your index finger to his mouth next, he lightly bit down on it, just hard enough to make you feel his intention. A whine bubbled up in your chest when he soothed over it with his tongue but you managed to swallow it before it could reach his ears - the visual alone enough to have heat pooling between your legs, let alone the sensation of him wrapping his lips around your finger. For some reason it felt much too intense and... indecent, this warmth and intimacy.

With his gloved hand pushing down on your wrist, he opened his mouth to show off your finger pressed against his tongue - and this time you couldn't help but whimper. You didn't pull away, despite your embarrassment, despite the unexpected turn the situation had taken. You were mesmerised by the spit running alongside your finger and over the side of your hand, the wetness it left in its wake. By how turned on you were by it all and how it only served to fan the heady feeling fogging your mind.

With a smile he kissed down along the skin. Small, tantalising kisses until cool lips landed on your palm where he traced the markings left by him.

"For how little fun I supposedly am," Dottore mused sardonically, "you appear to be enjoying yourself quite... a lot."

He turned his head until his chin was resting on your palm. A mockery to the obedience you were demanding earlier.

"I suggest you try on the leash this time." He guided your hand to your own mouth, smearing the wetness that had remained on your thumb over your lips. "perhaps I will make you my bitch then."

[fireflysymphony]

Kinks I think Veritas Ratio would have

MDNI 18+ content ahead

A/N: I’m new to honkai and only started playing because of Aventurine, but I fell in love with this asshole along the way.

Word count: 1.9k

TW: GN! Reader (descriptions of female anatomy), bathtub sex, degradation, humiliation, hitting, spanking, spitting, non consensual explicit photo and video taking, pet / puppy play, caning, collars, Veritas being an insensitive asshole, not proofread, let me know if I need to add anything else <3

Bathtub Sex

I think this one is the most obvious, which is why it is first. If books and bathtubs are already his favorite things, why not add his least favorite to the mix too? His idiot partner! So he grabs his favorite idiot and drags them into the room with him. Making them watch as he disrobes and gets in the tub, the ghost of a satisfied smirk on his face as he gestures to them to come close. He knows what he’s doing and regrets it being a simple and mediocre way of getting what he wants, but you’re an idiot like everyone else. His expectations for you are even lower than most of the mediocre imbeciles he sees on a daily basis, so he doubts you’ll catch on as to the real reason he wants you to join him. You might think he just wants to spend time with you, but since when did the great Veritas Ratio willingly associate with idiots without something to gain? He wanted your body, but he’d make it look like you were the one who was horny all along.

—

The water was warm, almost steaming, and you wondered why Veritas wasn’t as flushed as you. He looked as perfect as ever, and despite what he thought, those Greek-like statues he crafted of himself would never capture the true essence of his beauty. Your innocent thoughts of his calculating amber eyes and the delicateness of his fingers as he flipped to the next page of his book soon turned vulgar. You wanted those eyes to only be focused on you, and those fingers to reach the deepest places inside of you. Those thoughts only worsened as your eyes fell past his waistline and past his hips.

“Veritas.” Your body squirmed, the warmth of your core growing as his eyes found your face. Only for a split second were they like the content and focused gaze he wore moments earlier while reading before they turned much harsher and stern, much like how he normally regarded you, but unlike normally, he managed to stare at you longer than a few seconds.

“Are you going to finish your thought? You’re lucky I’m giving you the opportunity to share your idiotic thoughts.” He demanded, his eyes retreating to the pages of his tome again. “Silence yourself. I don’t have time for the musings of someone like you.”

“But…I just…” you didn’t know if Veritas even saw you as a partner because you certainly weren’t an equal in his eyes. The way he conducted himself around you told you were like everyone else to him, but then he went and did random romantic things like sharing a bath with you or letting you sit on his lap while he tried to read. And admittedly, the sex was good too.

“But what, spit it out. Your charades are pointless!” He slammed his book closed with one hand, the sound of it snapping shut adding to his annoyed tone. He let the book fall to the floor outside of the tub, his attention solely focused on you now. “Now, speak up!”

He snapped in your face, making you shrink deeper into the water until the water’s surface began to bubble. Veritas only stared, unimpressed by the display, so he grabbed a handful of your hair and yanked you closer to him. “If you won’t talk, I’ll put that mouth to better use by shoving your head underwater and giving you a better look of what’s down there. Don’t think I didn’t see how you were looking at me, I already knew what you wanted before you even did, but I won’t do it until you use your words.”

You glanced away from him, lamenting your stupidity. It was obvious he knew, even from your barely spoken words you were so obvious with your intent, your thoughts written all over your face. “Veritas, I want you to fuck me. Please.”

“Unoriginal. Can’t you be more creative with your begging?” He pulled you onto his lap with an unenthusiastic look on his face. He held your hips to steady you before slamming you down on his already hard cock. “Just know, you’ll be the one cleaning up the mess in here once we are through, even if you can’t walk and have to lick the floors clean.”

Humiliation

It’s obvious that Veritas gets off on degrading you, so I didn't feel like an entire section on that would count for much. Along the same lines as degradation though, Veritas is fully aware of his superiority to you in, well, everything, and he doesn’t want the fact that you’re his fucktoy to get to your head. You’re still a buffoon like the rest of them, just more useful than the others that plague the universe. When it comes to humiliation with Veritas, cameras and videos are always a must.

—

His glob of spit ran down your folds, his phone screen flashing as he got a picture. He hummed in satisfaction, his hands kneading at the flesh on your ass as he examined the photo. “Do you have to squirm so much? The picture is blurry now.” He clicked his tongue, smacking your ass out of annoyance, the red mark of his hand already appearing.

“No matter, I suppose, can’t expect much from you.” He grumbled, leaving you bent over his desk and appearing in front of you. From the moment you walked into his office, you wondered why he had a random stand in front of his desk. Your eyes widened with realization as Veritas messed with it, and he turned around just in time to see the situation dawn on you. “Surprised? You really are just another idiot.”

He tilted your head up with his finger, and if you moved your head to the side, you could easily make out the red circle signaling it was recording. He dropped your face, and you were quick to try to hide it from the camera. Once he was back to his original position behind you though, Veritas yanked on your hair and make you look straight into the camera.

“Perfect. Now the world knows the face of the whore who gets dicked down by the doctor every night. Would you care to introduce yourself?” Your eyes widen, wondering if this is being streamed somewhere or if it’s just for his pleasure that he’s doing this. You tried to lower your head and hide your shame, but Veritas again yanked your head back up, your scalp feeling as if it might get pulled off.

“No, no, I don’t! Veritas, stop it. No recording. Please please…” Your pleas fell on deaf ears as Veritas only leaned down, his breath kissing the shell of your ear. “I’m not a professor who gives second chances, but for you, I’ll make an exception, try again.”

His hand descended on you again, this time hard enough to elicit a yelp from you, but you kept your hands on the front of the desk, curling your nails to dig into the wood. You knew you’d be in more trouble if you made a move or if you refused to say the words he wanted you to.

“I’m… I’m your idiot whore who you take pity on each night because I can’t get enough of your cock.” You managed to choke out to your face in the camera, the last sight you wanted to see at that moment. “I’m just a whore for you who wants so desperately to be fucked by you! So please…”

“Not the most eloquently said but it will do.” Veritas hummed, grabbing your reddened bottom and aligning himself with you, his tip sliding up and down your folds before shoving himself all the way inside of you. “But that’s right. You are my whore, my lover whose only true purpose is to be my cockslave. Now everyone knows it, so make sure to perform well for the camera, darling.”

Pet play (and punishment)

Veritas, with you, is more indulgent with his subhuman views of the rest of humanity. Much like how he was in Herta’s Space Station, he’s constantly trying to lead the rest of humanity like a flock of sheep, and what’s a shepherd without his still stupid but slightly more tolerable dog at his heel? That’s right, and you should feel honored to be considered by Veritas as something greater than part of a mindless flock of sheep. It doesn’t mean you aren’t still stupid in his book. Oh no, he’s actually more harsh with you than anyone else. You can’t teach sheep, but dogs can always learn new tricks. As for how to punish a bad puppy, spanking or caning are his go to methods.

—

“Kneel.” He demanded, pointing at the hardwood floor under his feet with his cane. When you weren’t quick to follow his random command, he used that same cane to smack the backs of your knees and send you to the floor. In the midst of your complaints and cries, he only stared with that same calculating look. “You didn’t obey my command quickly enough, so you faced the consequences. Get over it.”

He moved to sit down, laying his cane on his lap. He watched you writhe and get teary eyed, and the sight filled him with more excitement. He’d always find the smallest reasons to punish you just for that look of pain and defeat that told him he was in control. “Come here. And crawl.”

This time you were quicker to obey which almost pleased him just as much as punishing you did. Seeing you crawl up to him on all fours made him feel like some type of deity. He set his elbow on his knee, tilting his head in the palm of his hand to look at you. “Cute.” It was probably the single nicest word he had said to you in a week, and it made your heart flutter to hear someone like him say it.

“How do you feel about bells?” He asked, picking up his cane and using it to tilt your head up. You flinched at first but calmed down when he didn’t smack you with it. “I’m adding one to your collar so that way you can’t try to ignore or hide it. I can’t trust your dull mind not to remember that it’s on. This will be an exercise of classical conditioning though I doubt you can even comprehend what that is.”

“No! I don’t want that.” You shook your head. He even made you wear this awful collar in public which was already a nightmare to hide, so the bell would just make it worse! As soon as you got the words out of your mouth though, Veritas smacked the cane against your cheek, luckily not hard enough to lodge a tooth out.

“There’s another lesson in classical conditioning, maybe if I put it in simpleton words you’ll understand.” He cupped your cheek, digging his nails into the already bruising red flesh. He spoke in the voice one would use with a toddler. “Being a bad pet breeds pain, and pain makes you unhappy. Being a good pet breeds pleasure, and you like feeling good, don’t you? I know which outcome you’d prefer:”

He pulled back, patting his lap before leaning back on the couch. “But it doesn’t matter what you want right now. I have to punish you either way, so bend over my knee, pet. I know you're stupid but try to keep count. If you mess up, I’ll start over.”

Hope you enjoyed it! This is the first smut piece I’ve ever written, and I hope to improve with time! I didn’t get much time to write today, and I have plenty of ideas for a part two which might be coming soon. In the meantime, requests are open!!

[earthtooz]

just a quick hawks idea that came to me <3 it's awkward lol but gn and pro-hero!reader

you might need to put your agency on lockdown.

admittedly, a hero agency going into lockdown was incredibly hypocritical, but when the threat was the number two hero himself, hawks, you can’t take any risks. everything must be secured so he cannot step even one foot into the premise or you’ll call emergency out of desperation and exasperation.

of course in the case of an actual lockdown, you would be expected to be there on the front lines which means you’d be the one responsible for being face-to-face with the problem. and if hawks flashed that charming smile at you or laughed that boyish laugh of his, you’d be surrendering. easy defeat.

but, the moment you’ve been dreading all day comes a little sooner than you expected, when three knocks on your door abruptly capture your attention and in comes one of your assistants. 

“ah, l/n? hawks is here and wants to see you,” she says, sounding a little overwhelmed. hawks can be intimidating when he doesn’t mean to be after all and well, you too were dreading meeting him for completely different meetings.

“don’t send him in,” you blurt, causing your assistant to widen her eyes in shock. you know she has the urge to ask why but quickly nods in affirmation before disappearing behind the office door once more. 

crisis averted. or so you thought as a sturdy, red feather begins dancing on your desk, one that you knew wasn’t there before.

it must’ve slipped in alongside your assistant and your heart drops at the realisation, especially when it becomes gesturing to your window; a signal you somehow recognise. 

“oh my goodness,” you mutter before turning around in your chair, coming face-to-face with the winged hero as he taps impatiently on your window, your chest already beginning to compress with the way your heart rate increased, and a thrill of exhilaration runs its course through your veins; two natural reactions that happen very commonly whenever you’re around hawks.

you hurriedly shut the curtains on his face, not having long to rejoice before his feather lifts up a portion of the blinds to reveal his unimpressed expression, coupled with an amused eyebrow raise and a dangerous smirk. hawks then gestures upwards with his pointer finger and you knew immediately that he meant to meet you on the rooftop of your agency; a place he likes to crash onto whenever he wants to. 

(you once asked him if he had better things to do than hangout on the top of your building and he replied that he’s there because he’s bored but you know otherwise. if there’s something about hawks it’s that he’s never free. his schedule was worse than yours and even then, yours was unmanageable. where he found a slot to loiter around your establishment, you don’t know. the bigger philosophical issue was why.)

you’re backed into a corner with nowhere to go but the rooftop and the wing that clung to your hero clothes was only emphasising the direness of your situation.

the moment you open the card-regulated door of your rooftop, hawks is already waiting for you, his face bursting into a dazzling smile as a glimmer appears in his eyes, ones that rivalled the sun. 

“there you are, sweetheart!” he greets, fluffing up his wings as the singular feather trailing beside you returns to its rightful owner. he takes generous steps towards you whilst you take smaller ones to meet him in the middle, your arms crossed over your chest in hopes of maintaining an apathetic front to deter him. 

it must not have been working because he does not look fazed. not one bit. 

“what are you doing here?” you grumble, subtly admiring the way his ruffled hair blows with the wind and how radiant he looks with the sun shining upon him. “don’t you have things to do that are more productive than bother me?”

“i am being productive; i’m chasing up on a deal that i made with you. maybe you need a little reminder to what it was?”

“please, don’t start-”

“-if i placed above you in the hero rankings this year, i would get to take you out on a date. remember anything along those lines, pretty?” 

you hide your face from him, using your hands to cover your eyes as you look away.

him, being the embodiment of your worst nightmares (daydreams), bends around so he would appear in your eyesight again and when you catch a glimpse of him, you just shut him out again using your hands. a deep chuckle spills from the winged hero at your childish insistence, genuinely entertained and infatuated by you.

“c’mon, stop ignoring me. i earned this date fair and square.”

“if i do not see, i do not perceive, please leave me alone.”

“oh c’mon number six, i’ve already placed reservations at a hot place i’ve been meaning to try together. won’t you be nice?”

removing your hands, you meet his gaze with a perplexed one of your own. “i’m serious, hawks, i have work to take care of. don’t you as well? we can’t just take breaks whenever.”

“and i’m serious about this date. so much so that i rostered more sidekicks on today than i normally do. everything is being taken care of so stop worrying, would i really be japan’s number two hero if i didn’t plan out every last detail?”

you huff, signalling his defeat. he was right. his surveillance abilities were off the charts. if anyone knew where danger was happening the second it occurred, it would be hawks. just- does he have to be so smug about it? it feels like he’s rubbing salt in the wound of your defeat yesterday at the hero rankings.

“fine,” you give in with an ungracious eye roll. “let’s go to this hot pot reservation of yours since you’re so insistent about how diligent you are.” 

“oh, do you find that attractive?”

“how about you take me out before i regret it?”

“as you wish!”

[agustdiv1ne]

congratulations on 3k!!! can i request beomgyu + the devil wears prada + smut please

NOW SHOWING...

pairing: choi beomgyu x fem!reader

genre: smսt

wc: 2.2k

details + warnings: mdni!!!, assistant!beomgyu, boss!mc (girlboss moment), mc is Mean, power imbalance, dom!mc, sub!gyu, oral (f receiving), hair pulling (m receiving), mc calls gyu: good boy, baby (once), gyu experiences slight subdrop but it's ok in the end !

note: thank uuuu ^^ enjoy!!

beomgyu knows next to nothing about fashion. in fact, he has no interest in the subject — that’s more his friend, yeonjun’s, speed — and he’s quite critical of the industry itself, so he’s genuinely unsure why he decided to accept the position of junior assistant to you, the devil herself.

he initially found it hard to believe that you, someone a mere few years older than him, had climbed all the way up to the top of the corporate ladder to become the editor-in-chief of a major fashion magazine. nepotism was his working suspicion, but he quickly realized that you were just that good at your job. fashion is what you live and breathe, it’s what runs through your veins, and while he doesn’t have a particularly keen eye for cohesive style, he can tell that your outfits are intentionally put together. he gets an eyeful of your wardrobe (and, if he’s being truthful, your ass) each day when you come into the office, throwing your designer coat and bag onto his desk without a single glance in his direction. recently, he’s found himself trying harder to curate his own sense of style, though he is not entirely sure why — perhaps he’s seeking approval from you, even if the words you direct towards him are consistently scathing in nature. he kind of likes it, though.

(what can he say, he’s a bit of a masochist.)

he’s well aware that your chronically stoic, unimpressed expression and sharp tongue help you keep everyone pinned under your perfectly manicured thumb. you may not have authority in age, but you sure as hell do in attitude. the whirlwind that the office becomes right before you enter is enough to indicate the sheer amount of influence you hold over his fellow coworkers — and evidently, him as well. it’s fear-based admiration, he thinks. fear, yes, but there is that tiny little part of him that experiences this overwhelming attraction to you as well.

on the bright side, even though his lack of fashion knowledge has gotten him in trouble more often than he’d like to admit, he’s eventually gotten in your good graces, albeit with quite an unorthodox method — one which also satisfies his odd fascination with you.

“tell him that i will not be accepting the girl he sent for that layout. i asked for clean, athletic, and smiley. i received dirty, tired, and drabby—  no, i will not be changing my mind. if he does not fix his mistake by tomorrow morning, i will not be working with him in the future,” you sigh on the phone, voice monotone and unaffected despite him kneeling beneath your desk between your legs. this is his master plan: if beomgyu can’t get you to approve of him through his (to be fair, subpar) work as your junior assistant, he’ll just have to prove himself worthy in other ways. please you in other ways. 

“so, what i’m hearing is that you want to whore yourself out to me in order to keep your job. what an…interesting proposition,” you had said to him when he’d first come to you with the idea, while he quaked like a leaf in the wind as he sat across from you. your stone-cold face allowed little of your internal state to slip, your eyes scanning over his pressed suit jacket and fashion-forward button up shirt (that he had, admittedly, stolen from yeonjun’s closet that morning). he didn’t expect you to savagely twist his words and throw them back in his face. though once you put it that way, he realized how naïve, how utterly idiotic, it all sounded. his ass was going to be fired and out your office door in t-minus three, two, one—

but then you beckoned him around the desk with a stiletto-shaped, red-painted fingernail, urged him down onto his knees, and spread your legs to reveal thin, lacy black panties beneath your tight, mouth-watering skirt. your expression still hadn’t changed, though your words caused his mouth to water.

“you have five minutes to prove your worth.”

several months have passed since then, and he’s officially demonstrated himself useful to you in ways other than what he was originally hired for. beomgyu finds this type of work far more gratifying than taking calls, cleaning out files, and organizing potential magazine spreads for you to review. he’s sure the his co-workers wonder why someone in such a lowly position spends a significant amount of time in your office with the door shut — but he couldn’t care less about their stares. maybe it’s the sick, perverted crush he’s formed on you that’s talking, but the thought of being used for his body isn’t appalling. rather, it actually really, really turns him on. whenever you call him into his office, he has to suppress a pathetic hard-on and ignore the twitching of his cock while he wonders if you need him for something practical or for…relief. 

relief is what you require today, it seems. the slight furrow of your brow is enough to indicate that you’re stressed. being an editor-in-chief at your age is no joke. the job demands all of your time and energy, every waking hour of your day — and he’s grateful that you’ve given him the chance to be your reprieve from the pressure, even if it’s only for a small percentage of your time. sometimes, he wishes he could take up more of your day, bask in your attention for longer, sit beneath your desk for hours and allow you to use him like a stupid sex toy — but at the same time, he thinks this is enough for now.

his teeth dig into his bottom lip as your hands curl into the locks of hair at the crown of his head, pointed nails pressing into his scalp, nipping at the sensitive skin. the gel that slicks back his hair crunches beneath your unrelenting grip, his head stinging as you jerk it back. his eyes nearly roll back into his head at the sensation, a pitiful whine falling from his lips as he feels his trousers grow the slightest bit tighter. narrowed eyes meeting his, you press your mouth into a thin, straight line. the phone is no longer curled between your fingers, attention now fully on him. scrutinizing. 

“twenty minutes,” is all you say, and he takes that as his cue to get to work. gently, he slips your skirt off of your legs and lays it out next to him, knowing how much you’d hate for it to wrinkle — it’s unfashionable, trashy. you scolded him the first time he attempted to bunch it up at your hips in haste. now, he knows better, has learned the vast majority of your quirks and preferences, as strict as they can be — he’s your good boy, even if you don’t give him the satisfaction of hearing it that often. he’ll do anything to hear that come from your painted lips. 

thumbing your panties to the side reveals your glistening folds to his hungry eyes. he swipes his tongue over the seam of his lips before kissing up your right thigh, avoiding using his teeth because you don’t like marks. he hums as he tongues your folds, the muscle dipping down to your entrance and he nearly moans at the taste that hits his tongue. fuck, why do you always taste so good? it’s like an addiction at this point, the way he needs his tongue buried beneath your thighs every day to feel sated.

above him, you sigh out, stiff shoulders relaxing into your chair. he takes this as a positive sign. fingers curl into his hair as soon as his lips find your clit, enclosing around the tiny pearl, tongue laving across it with practiced motions. typically, you don’t moan, but today, you allow a soft, breathy curse to slip — oh, fuck, he’s done for. he’s on the verge of losing it and cumming in his pants right now. whining against your folds, his incoherent words vibrate against your clit. fingers curl into his hair and tug just hard enough to sting, but he doesn’t stop, insatiable as he drags his tongue from your clit back down to your entrance. his nose bumps against your clit now as he takes laps up the juices flowing from your hole, feeling your walls clench when he dares to dip the muscle into you. dizzy, dizzy is how he feels. dizzy with the warmth of your thighs muffling his ears, with the scent of your musky perfume that you seem to dab on your inner thighs, on your taste, on everything about you. you’re more reactive today, less mean, and he has a half a mind to wonder why. 

“fuck, good boy,” you sigh, nails scratching at his sensitive scalp, making him moan. his trousers feel painfully tight, and he can’t help the hand that comes down to stroke over the hardness straining against the fabric. his eyes roll back into his head, eyelids fluttering shut as he switches his attention back to your clit, basking in the sensation of your legs tightening around his head, your hips grinding up into his lips. your breathy pants spur him on further, and when he finally looks back up at your face, he finds your lips bitten to hell, your eyes dark and hooded as you stare right back at him. the eye contact is enough for you to warn him of your impending high, your squirming growing worse until you freeze, legs quaking and hips jumping as he continues to ravage your folds, his hand squeezing himself harder. he could burst at any moment now, but he can’t do that. he has to hold it in, he has to prove that he can listen.

“get up, go handle your problem,” you’d usually say afterwards, leaving him to fend for himself in a bathroom stall, fist pumping his red, aching cock until he spills all over his fingers. today, however, it’s different. instead, he watches as you pick up your phone, dial some number, and say, “yes, tell everyone not to disturb me for another hour. if anyone does, they’ll be fired.” 

oh. you’re not…making him leave. what’s going on? is this some sort of cruel way to fire him? he just did so well for you though, you can’t. no, no, no — you can’t get rid of him. he needs you. you need him. dewy tears line his eyes, the amber hue of his pupils shining beneath your warm office lights. as you set the phone back down and look back down at him, your brows pull down into a frown, though there’s little concern and more confusion. 

“up,” you urge with another tug to his hair, and he swallows down the squeak that hitches in his throat, blinking back the tears. as he stands, head tucked into his chest, you question, “what is wrong with you?”

“i–i just,” he whimpers. “i—”

your eyes trail down to the tent in his pants, a nail coming up to trace along his covered erection. he visibly shivers. humming, you grope it softly, and he emits a tearful whine. “look at me.”

one, two seconds pass before he follows your command, red-rimmed eyes somehow making him prettier. while he’s a tall man, he’s shrunken into himself, hair mussed, lips still slick with your arousal — you think that he must be deep in some vulnerable headspace, so you decide to say, “you’re not in trouble. you did well.” 

the words come out flat, monotone, but it’s enough to cause the panic swelling within his chest to recede. he nods, still unable to look you in the eye. he feels you stand in front of him, reaching for his chin so he has no choice but to face you. your expression remains neutral while you slide a finger back and forth against his jaw. soothing, in a way, lacking the typical sharp edge that your actions have. gently, you push him to the side, and he watches with bated breath as you sit atop your desk, legs dangling off the dark wood. with a single wave of your finger, you guide him between your legs, hands on his hips as you start to help him grind against your panty-covered core.

“do you want to be even better for me?” you ask, and he nods silently. “words, beomgyu.”

“y-yes, i do,” he whispers, watching as your tongue swipes over your lips. a ghost of a smile plays on your lips, barely there — but he notices. he notices everything about you, really, even in this hazy state of his. 

“good,” you sigh, reaching down to stroke him once more. he sighs, eyes squeezing shut and vision blurring as they open again. he mouth falls open before he can stop it, a shuddering moan falling from his lips. tilting your head, a single quirk of your brow has his heart pounding harder.

“then go ahead and fuck me, baby.”

3k event masterlist | masterlist

© to agustdiv1ne. do not copy, repost, steal, and/or translate.

[hi-itsanniemarie]

"Bella, however, was straight chamomile for your soul, warm and calming with just enough sweetness that always left you wanting a little bit more..."

Pairing: Bella x Reader (referred to as "You")

Word Count: 3600ish

Warnings: mild language, adult themes & fluffy thoughts :)

(Takes place during filming of TLoU2)

Your first two weeks on the job had been pretty inconsequential, which you desperately appreciated since it was your first time working in this particular setting. You had been working for the studio for a few years now, but, being on location and having a more hands on approach with a huge production was all new to you. When the email about the job found its way to your inbox, you knew that this was exactly the opportunity you had been waiting for. Ever since the world opened up again two years ago, you had been searching for something a bit more exciting. You were happy enough with your job but being the assistant to the assistant of some big wig in the legal department hadn't always been the most stimulating or rewarding. There was also the rather unimpressive matter of your love life.  That had definitely been put on the backburner over the last couple of years, not that it ever truly had been on fire so to speak. So, since there was nothing holding you back, you had come to the conclusion that a new adventure and a fresh take on life was just the thing that would solve all your problems. 

You were the first employee to reply to the inquiry and was quickly approved for the position. You figured there wasn't  a lot of interest in leaving the warm and pleasant southern California winter for whatever awaited in Vancouver, but you knew it would be exactly what you needed, plus you got to buy cute new  boots. The studio was loaning you out to help with the overwhelming scale of the show's production. You would be helping out the Assistant Director as basically a second, 2nd AD. You had to laugh, here you were trying to escape the whole helping out the assistant gig but you couldn't deny the change of scenery. The job itself wasn't very stressful which allowed you to fully adjust mentally. Your duties included handing out the next day's call sheets and shepherding the cast to and from set. This meant you got to drive a golf cart sometime if the location was far enough away from base camp and you couldn't lie, that made you feel pretty important.    

So here you were, two weeks in and making some good professional connections. The crew had been very welcoming to you and you were a little surprised at how friendly and personable the cast had been right off the bat. You knew that people had the tendency to become like family on a set and you had heard about this particular group of cast and crew being extremely close, so it was really cool that everyone had opened their arms to you. Everyone always had something to say to you and you would reciprocate with generic friendly banter while escorting them at the start and end of the day. 

You were mostly in charge of the principal cast as well as some of the supporting cast and extras. You were admittedly a bit nervous at meeting the "Big Three" but your nerves were quickly put to ease. Pedro and Gabriel would joke and ask you about your favorite movies and music and constantly kept you on your toes. It was nice to feel so included but they were like a double shot of espresso directly into your veins and their jovial whims were sometimes a lot to take in that early or late in the day. Bella, however, was straight camomille for your soul, warm and calming with just enough sweetness that always left you wanting a little bit more. They were obviously friendly but there was an air of mystery that surrounded Bella and you honestly found that very refreshing, it made it easier for you to focus on your job without having to worry about sounding cool or impressive with your small talk. You knew that you came off quiet and shy, it was something you were trying to work on. You wanted to crack open your shell more with everyone, you knew it was important to be open with coworkers, but remaining professional and keeping things light and simple was something that was important to you too. It was a fine line and you certainly knew how to awkwardly tread it.

Before you knew it, those two weeks had suddenly turned into six, leading you to completely understand the concept of production time moving differently than real time. It felt like only six seconds had passed but also as if you all had been together for six years. Each day was as new and exciting as the very first, yet you had now settled into a comfortable routine that made you feel confident and purposeful in your role on set. For example, you knew when you picked Pedro up from base camp that he would need 27 shots of espresso over ice, despite the average temperature being 45 degrees, as well as a full recap of the show you were binging at his recommendation. And thanks to Gabriel, you had learned more about hockey then you ever thought was possible and always checked the stats from the  previous day's games to throw at him as you handed over his coffee. And with Bella, well, they were a bit trickier than the others. You always handed them their drinks with the biggest of smiles which they would return immediately along with friendly interaction. No, that wasn't the complicated part. The thing was that Bella had started to take the time to ask about you. All the big and important things that kinda scared you. When they tried to get you to open up and expose a deeper part of yourself,, that shy and insecure creature would take over your brain. Friendships or any kind of connection with someone was hard for you. You knew from experience that being vulnerable and deep with someone would only end up with some sort of betrayal or heartache. That is why you found it easier to try and not get too close to anyone and just keep your work mode activated at all times. The last thing you wanted was for Bella to think you were rude and when they smiled and their eyes seemed to burn into your soul, you began to find it harder and harder to ignore their intrigue.

Over the next week you found yourself trying to  let go more when you were with Bella and to not be so concerned about what they might think of you. And soon It was almost involuntary, you didn't even have to try, everything was becoming more natural between you two. Bella was absolutely the easiest person to talk to that you had ever met. They always had the most insane eye contact with you as you spoke, and it made you a little excited, almost as if Bella thought you were the most interesting person in the world. Questions and answers were given back and forth with smiles, laughter and the occasional, "No way, me too!" and it really felt nice to laugh like that again and to feel a connection with someone. Soon the desire for the journeys to and from set to last longer were starting to occupy a good portion of your heart. 

The sun was dripping through the leaves and warming the cold ground as production wrapped for lunch. You couldn’t believe that another two weeks had passed as you deeply inhaled the fresh air around you. It had been nice to get away from the city for a bit, taking in the beauty of the Vancouver forests. It was a small location shoot this week, "Ellie's Big Birthday Adventure" as it was cited on the call sheets. The crew numbers were down  and the only cast that was needed was Pedro and Bella. The air was different out here and there seemed to be a rejuvenated sense of childlike wonder amongst the cast and crew. You were constantly  running around trying to keep an eye on your "kids'' as you and the crew affectionately referred to Pedro and Bella. It had been much easier in the city when everyone had a designated trailer to hangout and wait for you in but now you found yourself pulling them away from bug collecting and rock skipping whenever they were needed. Despite the ever changing runaround with them, you fell asleep every night with the biggest of smiles, you were loving every moment of it. 

As you were exiting the Craft service tent you noticed Pedro, Bella and another crew member waving you over. You nodded at them acknowledging the invitation and settled down on a spare seat between Bella and a camera operator. Normally you didn't join the others during their breaks, you usually tucked yourself away in one of the crew trailers with your headphones in and your eyes closed if you weren't running around collecting updated sheets or checking in with other actors. However here, bounded by the trees, there wasn't anywhere else you would rather be. 

"We're finding out what everyone's favorite field trip was when they were in school." Pedro stated after you had exchanged a communal wave to the group. You laughed softly as you popped open your drink can, you never got tired of the random conversations. 

"Mine was when my high school drama class went to the Pantages Theatre and saw Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat. So. Good." Pedro continued, "and Bellie's was..."

"Beatrix Potter's house, Year 4, Mrs. Anderson's class," Bella said as they shot a finger gun in your direction. "I still have the Tom Kitten magnet on the fridge at home." 

"Niagara Falls," the camera operator added matter of factly pulling open a bag of chips. 

"All very cool," you said, shifting slightly in your seat trying to think of your answer. "Ok, well my favorite field trip was probably the time we went to this big history museum in the middle of the city," You paused for a moment, the thought not lost on you that the facade of the "Wyoming Museum of Science and History"

was peaking through the trees.

"There's just something super magical about museums when you're a little kid," Bella said

"Right?!" you agreed, "I don't know, I'm still pretty obsessed with them to be honest," you began rambling without realizing, "They are actually a really good place for a date, ya know, it's pretty low pressure but still way fun. The fact that you have to talk kinda quietly and be close to each other is a bit sexy. Oh, and I think it's really fun trying to impress each other with random facts and, yeah..." you trail off as if lost in a memory. 

"Is this coming from experience?" Pedro gently said, snapping you back to reality. 

"Yeah… that's probably a story for another time..." you said, falling silent and hoping that another time would never come. You really didn't feel like sharing your past relationship failures to everyone and you continued to sit there wishing someone would talk about something else.    After a moment or two of silence you heard, "Did you know that I went to a postcard museum once? Yeah, it was nothing to write home about..." they said in their most deadpan delivery. You bit your lip as a giggle tumbled out and joined the rest of the laughter amongst the group. You glanced over at Bella so thankful that they had sensed exactly what you had needed.

The following day shooting wasn't due to happen until later in the afternoon and a few people were getting together to go on a hike to Twin Falls Bridge. The air was much colder than usual that morning so you doubled up on your layers. It seemed like everyone from production was huddled together outside and you quickly joined them as Bella pulled you into the group. 

"Hi!" Bella beamed with their brilliant smile and  

"Hey Roo! Nice camera," you pointed out, knowing full well that they took photos of everything.  You had gotten into the habit of calling Bella, "BellaRoo” or just “Roo” and you definitely noticed them smirking whenever you used the nickname, almost as if they were proud of the fact that they had the honor of earning one. Bella shrugged, "You know me, always documenting the pretty things," They pointed the camera in your direction as you hid your face with your hands, the flush in your cheeks warming your chilled skin. 

"Oh god! That was so bad."

"Yeah, it really wasn't my best," Bella laughed in agreement. The hike was beautiful but you were so unbelievably cold. You realized that your shivering must have been more profound than you thought when Bella bounded over to you holding out a jacket. 

"I'm totally not ok with you freezing to death," they smirked coyly. 

"Oh is that so?" you said playing along, "Afraid you'll have to find someone else to bring you all your drinks or something?"

"Yeah something like that," Bella tossed you the jacket, "and plus all the paperwork is just so annoying." 

“Are you sure? Aren't you going to freeze now?”

“I’m a hundred percent sure,” they smiled, “And Pedro will probably be over here in 30 seconds offering me his jacket anyway,” they added with a slight chuckle.

“Ok, well thank you,”you chuckled. You savored the soft scent of honey and citrus that lingered on the collar as you let its warmth encase your body, “I’ll wash it tonight and get it back to you tomorrow. I promise” you added as you fiddled with the zipper and realized your hands were officially numb. 

“You can keep it. You know, so I don't have to find someone to replace your ass…” Bella said as they reached down and hooked the zipper into place and slid it up for you. They then proceeded to cup your hands in theirs and brought them to their lips, and gently used their warm breath to relieve your discomfort. 

“Really? But it’s this your favorite jacket? I mean I see you wear it all the time.” You stated, doing your best to sound normal  even though every fiber of your being had exploded into a million pieces at the intimacy of the moment. 

“I like it on you,” they said in between breaths,, “Cuz, you know it uh, it goes with your...” Bella stammered and dropped your hands as they took a step back, “...your uh, your face.” they awkwardly gestured at your face. You couldn’t tell if Bella was actually nervous or if they were just being funny with you. Either way, you felt somewhat relieved when you saw Pedro running up the trail unzipping his jacket, any awkward tension between you two was instantly swept away by your laughter and Bella’s “I told you so” look. 

You were happy to be back at base camp, a week out in nature was so nice but you had missed the coziness of the community in the city. You and Bella had put together a scrapbook full of plants and polaroid's from the past week and you couldn't help but smile at the photos, losing yourself in the memories before heading out the door for the day. 

You took your usual walk from the production apartments to base camp stopping by the local coffee shop to pick up the kid’s assorted drinks. As you rounded the final corner and crossed the security barricade you felt your phone buzzing in your pocket. You glanced down at your watch and saw the message from the AD, scenes had been moved around and they would be needing Bella  in hair and makeup sooner than planned. You stopped by the crew trailer, tossed your bag into your locker and texted Bella.

You made your way over to Bella’s trailer and sat on the steps to wait for them. You really did not enjoy when schedules were moved around at the last minute, the anxiety of reaching out and locating the required parities and potentially ruining their plans was not a fun aspect of the job. However you were glad it was Bella today, nothing ever seemed to truly inconvenience them, plus seeing them first thing in the morning always seemed to make the morning light shine a bit brighter.  You didn't have to wait long, Bella showed up right when they said they would. 

“Hi hi hi!” they exclaimed as they rushed past you up the steps and disappeared in the trailer for four seconds to drop their bag off before jumping back down, “Let’s go!” they said, grabbing their coffee with a smile as you quickly radioed over to the MUAH team to let them know Bella was on the way. On your walk over you passed by the breakfast spread that was being laid out and you snagged a couple pieces of toast and handed one over to Bella.  

“Thanks! Hey did you know in ancient Rome they used to drop a piece of toast into their wine for good health?”

“What?” you replied somewhat thrown off at the randomness of their question.

“Yeah! That’s why we call it “raising a toast”.” they said excitedly, their face eagerly waiting for your response.

“Ohhh no way! That’s pretty cool actually,” you smiled at Bella, “when did you become an expert in obscure historical facts?” 

“Oh, you know, I'm just full of interesting facts, can't help it, I was just born that way.” that cheeky grin appearing instantly across their face. 

“Ok what else you got then? Since you’re such a natural,” You smirked, egging Bella on.

“Australia is wider than the moon.” they replied instantly and matter of factly.

You nodded your head while trying your best to hold back a smile, “ Your family must be so proud of this God given talent.” Bella just shrugged and threw their hands up as entered hair and makeup and disappeared with a quick wave. 

You were going over the rest of the day’s schedule with the AD when lunch was called and everyone scattered like ants in all directions to spend their time in various ways. After grabbing a snack you found some secluded chairs and popped your buds in your ears and selected your goto playlist. You were so zoned out that it startled you when a cassette tape landed in your lap. You paused your  music as you looked over to see Bella crashing down in the seat next to you out of breath. 

“You are ok?!”

“Yeah, I just ran from my trailer and back to get that.” they said, pointing to the tape, “I made it for you and I wanted you to have it for the weekend.” 

“Um, what? You made me an actual mixed tape? I'm sorry, I was unaware that it was 1987!” you said in amusement as you glanced down at the insert covered in Bella’s handwriting and doodles.

“Oh stop it!” Bella laughed as they hit your leg in jest. “Pedro showed me how to do it! And I know they have a tape player in those ancient production flats so you have no excuse. It's just some songs that I think are vitally important for you to experience.”

“Well if it's of vital importance I will not let you down.” You promised as you slid the tape safely into the pocket of your jacket. 

“Good,” Bella replied happily as they tucked their legs up on the chair and opened their water. It felt good just having Bella around. The way they seemed to calm the air yet electrify it at the same time was something that you wished you could bottle and take with you everywhere, just to have the sense of them around at all times. 

“And thank you Roo, nobody’s ever made anything for me before, it's really cool.”

“Really?! I find that hard to believe,” 

“Oh no its absolutely the truth! To be honest, no one ever really stuck it out long enough to care I guess. After all the trying and failing that I've done, I've realized that the common factor in it all has been me and that I must just be hard to love. I’ve grown to accept the fact that I'm destined to be alone,” you glanced over at Bella who was looking at you with those eyes that seemed to know your pain and offer you comfort all at the same time, “Ah, don't look at me like that, its fine, I’m fine, I swear,” you chuckled awkwardly, “Some people just aren't special in that kind of way i guess.” 

"That's bullshit! There is totally someone out there for you and they will end up proving to everyone who made you feel unloved that they were so fucking wrong." Bella's eyes seemed to darken as they started intently into yours. You could tell that they were being serious with their words, something you only really noticed when they were working through stuff with Pedro. Just then the AD's voice bellowed out that principal actors were needed back for makeup checks. 

"And who knows, maybe they're going to be a lot easier to find than you think." Bella softly smiled as they handed you their water and slowly backed away into the crowd that was forming. "You're fucking special. In the best way. Don't forget that!" Bella shouted and smiled as they disappeared into the swarm of people. A smile burst onto your face and you quickly buried your face in your hands knowing that you were turning red despite the amused laughter. Why were they so good at this? Allowing a person to be seen and to feel understood. The feeling that was pulling in your chest was somewhat new to you, and it felt like something stronger than gravity.

[chcrryade]

WHAT YOU WAITING FOR? Park Yeonwoo for 2NITE MAGAZINE. 11 Aug, 2022.

It was admittedly harder to get an audience with the elusive JALEN DUAN than I initially thought it would be. There were many emails left ignored, polite messages left at the front desk of the JAGUAR building to an unimpressed-looking secretary that I was assured would be passed on but I assume never were, and altogether a lot of general frustration before we reached where we were—that place in question being quite a dingy-looking fast food place with one flickering light, a few dead-on-their-feet looking teenaged employees milling around in the back, and a singular other patron tucked away quietly in their chosen booth.

I had gotten there before the vocalist, and so had taken quite a few creative liberties while ordering as I assumed what food from the menu he might have liked to eat, but my efforts turned out to be in vain when he pushed the door open, found me and my tray of greasy goodness, made a disgusted face, and stole the large drink I’d ordered instead.

“I’m not touching any of that with a ten-foot barge pole,” was what JALEN had informed me, making himself comfortable on the leather seat opposite me before gesturing to it and then myself. “You’re free to dig in, though.”

I decided it would be rather rude if I was trying to ask him all the questions I’d diligently written down to prepare for this fateful meeting with a mouth full of burger and fries, and so declined and pushed the tray to the side. I wanted to get straight down to business, and told him as such.

(And was rewarded with a flat look and the sound of soda painstakingly being sucked up through his straw. “Well.. I’m not stopping you” was all he said out loud, but the underlying message of ‘get on with it’ wasn’t hard to read).

It suddenly wasn’t so difficult to see why JALEN was often referred to as one of the more unfriendly-looking members of CHERRYADE. But if I’d waited this long for a single interview (one he wasn’t likely to give in the first place, nor entertain any offers of more), I was definitely going to wring everything I could manage out of the man. So I sat up straighter, fished the crumpled-up receipt filled to the brim with all the ideas for questions I could ask out of my back pocket, indulged in a single fry for my troubles before I began (and resolutely ignoring the look I got in response), and got right to it.

“This whole redebuting thing—how’s that been working out for you? It’s been.. What, a year now?”

Not that I’d seen any celebrations for the milestone from neither the group nor the company. It was more bet wins on how long they’d last being cashed in amongst the fans than anything else.

JALEN made a so-so movement with his hand, head tilting in thought before he answered. “It’s been working out just fine, I guess. I mean, we’re still together, aren’t we? For longer than anyone thought we’d actually last. I’ve had HAEIL with me from our ALGORHYTHM days, at least. DOYEON got lumped in with us without actually knowing anyone.”

“And there’s not too much.. Trouble in paradise?”

The once-contemplative look on his face melted into a small smile, one eyebrow raised. It took another sip of his drink before he slowly set the cup down again and answered. “‘Paradise’ is a stretch, don’t you think? But.. No, actually, it hasn’t been the Hell I was expecting. Sure, YIJUN’s been making his rounds in the headlines—which is like, how many fights do you want to start? I’m half sure he wants us to disband—and there’s been a couple arguments, but nothing career threatening. Yet.”

The ominous end to his answer made me pause. Maybe he found the reaction amusing, because on the opposite side of the table JALEN then burst into laughter. It was the most expressive I’d ever seen him, granted I’d been seeing him for a total of maybe 15 minutes at the very most.

“I’m just fucking with you,” he assured me, smirk still on his face. “I might be a bit of a pessimist, but I don’t have the glass-half-empty approach to CHERRYADE. Or any of the boys, really. They might irritate me sometimes, and hate each other some other times, but I want us to stick it out a little longer. DOYEON might be the leader, but I’m the oldest. I kinda want to.. I don’t know, take care of them a bit.”

It was a surprisingly heartfelt answer, but also one that JALEN looked like he regretted as soon as it left his lips. He mimed throwing up in his mouth and shuddered a little, shaking his head as if to snap himself out of the caring side of himself that he’d just displayed.

“Nevermind. Gross.”

The somewhat-childish words made me crack a smile of my own, and it wasn’t that hard to relax a little after that. Questions seemed to flow easier, the ice having been broken.

“Forgive me if I’m prodding too far into it, but I think it’s something everyone wants to know: are there any.. You know, bad eggs? People you should look out for?”

His smirk widened, something of a scoff escaping him. “‘Bad egg?’ Who the fuck says that anymore?”

“Just humour me. For the sake of the story.” Because any good journalist should be prepared to give up a little of their dignity for the sake of the story.

“There’s always ‘bad eggs.’ You’re not going to like everyone you meet.” Was his matter-of-fact (and very unsatisfactory answer), but before I could press for more he had continued on anyway. “But—well, yeah. Some people..” He trailed off to roll his eyes, taking another sip from the paper cup sat before him and looking like he was thinking of a way to put it that wasn’t filled to the brim with expletives and curses on said ‘people’s’ families. Although personally, I thought the more expletives, the better.

“Some people really piss me off,” he finally settled on, smile gone and replaced with the same carefully blank look he’d levelled at me earlier. “Even if I’ve never properly met them, I see the way they act and the way they talk and it just makes me wanna—” his hands squeezed together, one half raised as if he was thinking of making a punching motion, but then dropping back to the table once he’d thought better of it. “It makes me wanna throw up. Or, like, blow up at them Yijun-Inkigayo style.” 

The grin came back for a fleeting moment after the short-lasting silence that followed his answer, JALEN shooting me a quick wink to go with it. “Not naming any names, though. I’m not a snitch.”

Annoying, but understandable. He’d just expressed his sentiments over wanting to keep the group together, and so I doubted going on record and listing all the people he had qualms with would do wonders for that wish. I indulged in a few more fries before carrying on.

“How do you not do that, then? Lose it, that is.”

He shrugged, fingers tracing the surface of the table. “Self-control. You’ve just gotta force yourself not to react—not where they can see you, anyway. Every time I want to start a fight or call someone out I can just, like, see all the headlines and the videos and the tweets when I close my eyes, and it puts me off. If there’s one thing I’ve learned it’s that there’s always someone watching, somewhere.”

There was a pause, but before I could assume that was the end of it and move on he was speaking up again. “I mean, that’s kind of the only reason I’m even here in the first place. DAEHOON and LEVI got in that fight, everything blew up, LEVI moved, and then the rest of us just.. Got shelved. Forgotten about. I was pretty much going insane from boredom, so when JAGUAR called up I felt like I couldn’t say yes fast enough. And it might not have been the best decision I’ve ever made, but..” he spread his palms, a sort of ‘what can you do’ motion. “I’m here now, so. Might as well see if I can hold out a bit more.”

With that, he brought his straw up to his lips again and drained the cup of its contents, leaving only the copious amount of ice cubes rattling around inside, before reaching forward and stealing a fry from its paper bag. The face he made after he’d swallowed told me all I needed to know of what he’d thought of it.

“Fuck me, those are awful.”

I attempted to hide the smile of my own by focusing back on my poor excuse of some notes, but it was hard to hold back when the noises of JALEN cracking open the plastic lid of his cup to desperately pop a few ice cubes in his mouth to try and get rid of the lingering aftertaste soon followed. For my last relatively longer question, I had decided to wait until he’d finished crunching through the frozen water to ask. It was only polite.

“If you could say anything—to, you know, all those wannabes, and up-and-comings, or even people who’ve been here just as long as you—what would it be? Some advice, what to and what not to do, I don’t know. Anything you want.”

It’s another one he takes a few seconds to think over, hands now gravitating to the multiple shining silver zippers of his leather jacket. The look on his face could almost be described as something wistful, at the risk of making him sound about twenty years older than he actually was.

“You have to be a bit shitty sometimes,” were his first words, plain and simple. “You can’t really get around that. You’ll get stressed and you’ll snap at your groupmates, or they’ll piss you off and you’ll retaliate, or someone else will be causing problems and you’ll step in. That’s just.. The truth—for me, at least. You can try and say you’re a good person all you want, but when there’s a comeback in a week and half your members have fucked off to go get drunk and the other half are either crying in their room or just doing absolutely fucking nothing—and to top it all off none of them are picking up their phones—then you’re not gonna end up acting like one.”

He was on a roll, clearly spurred on, and I made no move to stop him in his tracks.

“I mean, everyone’s a good person until a certain point, aren’t they? Or, they all still are perfectly good people, but once you’ve crossed a line it’s just so hard to come back from it there’s not really any point in trying. You start a fight once and everyone thinks you’re an argumentative piece of shit who can’t talk it out like an adult. You go out for the night once and everyone thinks you’re a party animal who goes stumbling back your apartment wasted as shit every day of the week. You smoke once, you’re an addict. You mention your childhood once and you’re either fishing for sympathy or think you’re some rich kid lording it over the rest of us. You can’t win, and you might as well just accept that while you can. You might’ve pulled up to your audition with pure intentions, but if you make it through then you’re definitely not going to come out as someone with your morals still intact by the end of it.”

To say I was in awe by the end of his speech would be something of an understatement. While I sat in silence, attempting to process the words that had just been laid upon me, JALEN just polished off the last of his ice and looked blankly into my dumbstruck face, completely unfazed by his own philosophy.

“Can I order another drink?”

I was powerless to do anything but agree.

[indigosabyss]

DCST X Naruto: Kakashi Owed R&D A Favor

That was essentially how it started. He had needed some info on chakra manipulation training techniques that the library decided he didn't need.

So instead he asked some ninja in R&D to slip him the intelligence. Which they were allowed to do only by their discretion.

Which was more than a decade ago at this point, and with no favor called in, Kakashi was hoping they'd forgotten.

But of course Research-nin remembered. They lived longer than shinobi who were on field duty.

"So these supposed 'Thousand Jutsu' you know. There any merit to them?" Inabi, the first research-nin to approach him asked.

"I wouldn't say a thousand, but the number's up there." He agreed loftily.

"There's a new graduate from the Academy who could use your insight." She explained, "Hokage-sama is looking for a mentor for him, to refine his specific skillset. I think it'd be most productive to have you do it."

"What's this skill?" Kakashi asked uninterestedly. He'd just sent another batch of genin back to the Academy, too.

"He can build machines that recreate jutsus." She informed him, grinning, "Cool, yeah?"

Cool, maybe. But he'd still die in a field situation unless he knew how to work together with others.

---

In the end it was that favor and some mild curiosity which got him to show up at the Academy the next Monday to collect a base report on the kid and his strengths.

Shiraishi Gaku, with a pencilled in addition of Senku at the end, was ten. A little earlier than average these days.

He also had no taijutsu or ninjutsu score. Or genjutsu. No zeroes or anything. They just... weren't there.

The hell?

"Oh yeah, Senku-kun doesn't have properly developed chakra coils. So he couldn't be tested for ninjutsu and genjutsu." One of the Academy teachers explained, having noticed his baffled shuffling of the papers, "And he hated taijutsu so much he built an electronic Puppet to get out of it."

"And you let him skip taijutsu????" Kakashi asked. He was the furthest thing from a teacher, but even that didn't sound right. And why was he allowed to graduate at all if he categorically could not do any ninja art?

And then the last bit caught up to him, "He made a Puppet out of... electricity? But you just said he had no chakra coils."

"Not like made out of electricity." The teacher corrected wearily, "The electricity powers a metal exoskeleton or something I didn't quite understand his explanation."

Right. Because he could make machines that mimic jutsu. And he could do it so well that it was going to lead to his death in the near future.

The teacher's face lit up as he looked at something behind Kakashi, "Oh, you can ask him yourself!"

Senku was wandering up, looking exactly as he did in the photo on the report, except somehow even more unimpressed.

They both looked at each other for a moment, and Kakashi immediately knew this was going to be a headache.

---

If Kakashi didn't know better he would be convinced that the Hokage wanted Senku dead.

There was no other explanation as to why you would let a kid this unathletic ever become a ninja.

"We've been making this walk for weeks now! How are you still on the brink of death every time we complete it?"

"Shut up." Senku wheezed from the ground, "It's really far away, okay?"

"Barely three kilometers."

"And that's really fucking far!" Senku whined, "I don't need to walk this much. The research grounds to test new jutsu are nearer to the Village. Not like I'll ever be seeing actual action."

And again with that familiar refrain.

It had been nearly two months since Kakashi had first been assigned him, and Senku made sure to bring that up at least once every day.

And sure, maybe that was true, but Kakashi could not in good conscience allow a child to die because he was so insistent that he didn't need crucial training.

Everyone else catered to his idiosyncrasies because admittedly, yes, the kid was just that good, but he knew first-hand that geniuses didn't know what was good for them.

Something needed to be done.

"Senku." He decided, once the time came for them to go their separate ways for the day.

Senku looked at him curiously, arms piled up with the guts of a machine Kakashi didn't quite understand, "Yeah?"

With great solemnity, he ran through the signs and fired up Chidori.

"See this?" He lectured, over the bird-luke shrieking of the jutsu, "Your machines are good, but they're not as good as the techniques built by ninja all over the world."

He rammed it into the closest tree, and the bark came apart like tissue paper, the hole piercing all the way to the other side.

"What if that's you someday?" He demanded, "How will you counter it? How will you even hope to match it?"

He was being uncharacteristically serious, but he had to make sure something stuck. Clearly no one else was going to deny this stupid kid anything, so it was up to Kakashi to make him see sense.

For a long moment, Senku stayed quiet. Then he nodded, "You make a good point." And he walked away.

If this didn't work, Kakashi would have to sic Gai on him next.

---

Two weeks later, Senku randomly said, "Hey you remember that Lightning Fist technique you showed me."

"Chidori." Kakashi corrected on impulse.

"Yeah, that." Senku brushed off, holding up a kunai-shaped object. Except where the blade should be was a shallow funnel of some kind. And the handle clearly had a dial and a switch built into it.

Senku held it up to a tree, right next to the one he had felled with Chidori, and pressed a button.

Pulling it away slightly, Kakashi saw a rod of red light poking out from the center of the funnel, pointed directly into the bark.

Within seconds, the other end of the light came searing out from the other side of the tree.

One click of a button, and the light disappeared.

"Matched it." Senku told him levelly. His voice was serious. At least some part of the warning had been internalized.

Just not the part he wanted.

"Gai will be overseeing your taijutsu training from now on."

"What?!"

[defectivevillain]

by your side

pairing: percival graves x reader

reader’s pronouns: unspecified but masc-intended

warnings: mentions of blood and injury, fainting

You’re starting to suspect that Director Graves thinks you to be incompetent.

It all starts in the halls of MACUSA’s Department of Magical Law Enforcement [as most things do]. You’re minding your own business, filling out some paperwork, when a sudden crash sounds. You quickly get up from your desk and run out to the hallway, only mildly surprised to see several Aurors. They evidently just Apparated back from their mission. Admittedly, they look to be in a pretty bad state. 

“We need backup,” one of the Aurors manages to say, as they lead another Auror down the hall with their arm slung around their shoulder. There’s blood seeping from their robes, tinting their skin red. You’re quick to get the details from another Auror before Apparating there yourself. From what you’d heard, some Grindelwald sympathizers are fighting back against the initial group of Aurors.

The moment you appear, you have to dodge spellfire. There’s nothing but chaos. You cast a few haphazard shields and look around for any of the other Aurors. There are a few scattered about, but they look outnumbered. 

As you fight, you make sure not to use lethal spells—despite your knowledge that the wizards casting at you definitely are. You take a deep breath and spin around, just barely dodging a curse that hurtles at you. Despite your speed, you’re beginning to be surrounded. You try your best to defend yourself, but it’s nearly impossible to do so with the opposition of several different people. A wayward curse barrels towards you and you’re not fast enough to dodge it. Pain shoots through you and you fall to the ground. Shadows creep across your vision and you blearily look up to the sky. Eventually, you succumb to the rather powerful exhaustion that pulls at your core.

You dazedly register someone leaning over you. Their face is entirely blurry and all you can make out are deep brown eyes and dark hair. The person brings a hand to your cheek and their lips move, but you can’t hear what they’re saying. Your ears are ringing and your eyelids sting with the exertion of staying awake. You’re shaken a bit roughly by the shoulders, but by then, your eyes are closed and you’re unconscious. 

The next time you wake, there are pins and needles shooting through your arm. You try to lift your arm, only to find that it’s weighed down. You squint in confusion. It takes a moment for you to process what’s happening. It seems that you’re in St. Mungo’s. Your arms are bandaged and your entire body feels incredibly stiff. It’s only then that you realize why your arm is hurting. Director Graves is draped over your arm, his head rested on his arms as he.... well, you’re not quite sure what he’s doing here. You tap him on the shoulder and he jolts awake, looking incredibly startled until he meets your eyes. 

“You’re awake,” the director remarks, a strange sense of relief almost invading his voice. You squint at him in confusion. You must be dreaming. That’s the only explanation for why the Director of Magical Law Enforcement is sitting next to your hospital bed. 

“Why-” You try to say, only for a cough to crawl out of your dry throat. Graves is quick to get you a glass of water, which you drink greedily. It takes you a moment to collect your thoughts, before you start again. “Why are you here?”

“How are you feeling?” the director asks. You level him with an unimpressed gaze. Graves doesn’t react. You shake your head in disbelief, fully aware that he didn’t even bother to answer the question. 

“I’m fine,” you reply habitually. Your entire body is aching and stiff, but it’s not an unbearable pain. You've regained control of your right arm too, thankfully. You try to push yourself up to a sitting position, but your arms are too shaky to provide much support. Graves levels you with an accusatory glare that you promptly ignore. 

“You’re lucky to be alive,” the director remarks. You don’t quite know what to say to that, so you remain silent. Evidently, there’s something else the director wants to say, but he doesn’t voice it. Instead, Graves sighs and crosses one leg over the other. He makes no move to leave. Your heart starts to race. 

“Now, rest,” the director commands. “That’s a direct order from your commanding officer.” You roll your eyes and fall into the pillow at your back. You stare up at the ceiling resolutely, not wanting to go to sleep. The universe seems to have other plans for you, however. The last thing you register is the brief press of lips to your forehead before you’re drifting off. 

The rest of your hospital stay isn’t nearly as... intriguing. You don’t get any more visitors—least of all Director Graves—and you’re discharged within two days. The nurse firmly orders you to stay out of the field for a week and you sigh. 

During the ensuing days, you’re incredibly bored. You still go to work, but you’re confined to your desk and a seemingly infinite stack of paperwork. The week passes and, on the eighth day, you’re extremely excited to return to normal work. Safe to say, you aren’t anticipating the continued influx of paperwork. 

At first, you think it must be coincidence. You’ve always been assigned paperwork sporadically throughout the year. However, as the days pass and you continue to be assigned paperwork and nothing else, you start to suspect that something’s wrong. Ultimately, it takes another week of zero fieldwork for you to lose patience and walk over to Graves’s office. 

Before you know it, you’re knocking on the door to his office. “Director Graves, can I speak with you?” You hear a voice allowing you in and you open the door. Tina Goldstein stands at the director’s side. The two of them turn to look at you the moment you enter the room. 

“Goldstein, we’ll continue this later,” Graves says. Goldstein’s gaze flits between the two of you and a mischievous smile appears on her face. You’re quick to push her out of the space and dissuade her from any deluded fantasies. The moment you return, your impatience gets the best of you. 

“Why are you keeping me from the field?” You blurt out. The director doesn’t seem surprised by the question. If anything, it seems as if he was expecting it. That sends off some red flags in your head. Did he mean for you to be assigned to paperwork this whole time? Shaking your head, you turn your attention back to him.

“You need rest,” the director replies, rather predictably. Graves taps his fingers against the surface of his desk. You’re unable to keep your irritation at bay anymore. 

“Yes, for one week, not two,” you snap, quickly regretting doing so when you see the blank expression on the director’s face. Graves stands up and ambles over to you. Your heart is racing in your chest, but you grit your teeth and stand your ground. He’s nearly looming over you now. Merlin, I’m going to die, you can’t help but think. 

“I... apologize,” is just about the last thing you’re expecting to hear. Your surprise must show on your face, because Graves chuckles. “I’m sorry. You’re right. I was just... worried.” Why would he be worried? You frown. 

“I can explain,” the director starts. You raise an eyebrow and he doesn’t make a move to explain. “Perhaps... over coffee?” You’re certain your jaw is wide open now. Is he... asking you out? You look at him for a moment longer, trying to find any hint of emotion on his face. His expression is surprisingly blank. Well, fuck it, you think to yourself. There’s nothing to lose, really.

“Sure,” you respond. Somehow, it seems as if Graves hadn’t expected you to agree because his eyebrows rise high on his forehead. The display isn’t for more than a mere fraction of a second, yet it’s somewhat refreshing to know that the director isn’t as robotic as you thought him to be. 

“It’s a date,” the man says, a hint of a smile creeping up on his face. You nod and dismiss yourself, walking out into the hall. It doesn’t take long for you to bury your head in your hands in simultaneous embarrassment and excitement.

y’all i had such a moral dilemma about how to write this... cause percival’s the head of the aurors and the reader is an auror so there are obvious power dynamics there.... thus the lack of explicit romance and emphasis on moving to an alternate location without work labels... ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ 

[ashs-random-writing]

Mushroom Circles

Chapter ten

Ao3

—

When an accidental blood sacrifice leaves him in a strange new world, Roman has to hide

Logan would like to know what has been eating all the fruit

—

Logan took note of every reaction Tiny had, and to what. They were startled by Patton’s sudden touch on their arm, but that was just as obvious as the way they were scared when Janus was nearby.

They evidently didn’t forgive Janus for what he had done. Janus had attempted to claim that it was because they mustn’t have understood the apology, but Logan knew for sure that they did. Their reaction was far from the non-comprehending stare they often had when hearing words they didn’t understand.

In addition, they had heard apologies from Logan and Patton enough times that he was almost a hundred percent certain that they must understand it. He figured that they simply had not liked Janus’s (admittedly not the best) apology, and had reacted as such.

Logan not only didn’t disagree with their assessment of the apology, but in fact he would have thought about doing the same as them had someone given such a lacking apology to him. Of course, he wouldn’t have done the same, despite thinking it, as he never acted that dramatically, and quite frankly, he’d have simply walked away from the conversation if it were him.

Tiny didn’t have the same luxuries of leaving the situation, but could still show their unimpressed attitude in their own way. Logan almost felt a smile creep onto his face.

All six of Janus’s arms were crossed stubbornly.

“Why should I have apologised if they won’t even give me a chance?” He was complaining, as Patton was checking on Tiny.

Logan pinched the bridge of his nose, pushing his glasses up accidentally in the process.

“You apologised because you were told to, and you sounded like it, I doubt I’d have accepted that apology either,” Logan informed him bluntly.

Janus, turned away from him in much the same manner that Tiny did to Janus, which Logan had to admit was quite amusing. He still had his questions about Tiny, not one of them having been answered.

What were they? Why were they here? Why hadn’t they shared their name? Why were they so tiny? Why didn’t they have any magic? Why were they so faerie-like, but so different?

They had basic features replicated, though on a much smaller scale, but the only colours that they had as a part of their skin and hair were shades of beige and brown. Their eyes were green, but that was the only colourful thing about them other than their clothes.

They had a noticeable lack of wings. And a noticeable lack of extra limbs. Their ears were rounded rather than pointed, and their teeth had barely any that were sharp.

He had no clue what they were.

He wondered if they felt the same about him. Were they just as clueless as he, when it came to each others’ species? Or did they know more about him than the very little he knew about them?

At the very least, they likely knew how they got here, which Logan didn’t know. He sighed.

A few weeks later, he still knew next to nothing about them. They had become more vocal over the few weeks, though he understood very little. They greeted him when he greeted them, clearly having learnt the greeting from him and Patton (Logan pretended not to be amused at the way they blatantly ignored Janus if he ever tried to say hello to them)

He was still having to resort to calling them Tiny, due to the fact that they still hadn’t shared their name, and any time they tried to ask, they’d freeze up, becoming more nervous again. They’d stopped asking them for it- they clearly had a reason for not sharing it, perhaps something cultural. Logan knew nothing of them.

Janus had not been tormenting them, in Patton’s words, for the past few weeks- at least not at the same extent that he was beforehand.

He was still annoying them, poking and prodding them, and making snide little comments. Janus was banned from being the one to bring them their food, as he’d attempt to annoy them by stealing the food off their plate, often making little comments about how they’d never be able to eat all of it, anyway.

Tiny didn’t often get all pale and scared because of it, anymore, but did often get very visibly annoyed. He noticed that they often crossed their arms when they were annoyed, and they tended to mutter and grumble in their own language.

Logan found the language extremely interesting- but he had not yet figured out the meaning of any words. He hoped that could be remedied at some stage.

He was voicing his concerns about what they were to Janus in a different room than Tiny was in, and doing so quietly- he didn’t entirely know how much Tiny understood at this point- when Janus spoke up.

“Y’know, I think there’s an old folktale about weird little tiny people, maybe that could give some insight,” he said, absentmindedly, as though this wasn’t information that might’ve been useful a while ago “I’m sure from what I remember that it matches at least a little with Tiny,”

Logan stared at him a few moments.

“And you didn’t tell me about this weeks ago?” He asked, barely concealing his annoyance.

Janus shrugged, checking his nails “Never came up,”

Logan groaned.

“Alright,” he said through gritted teeth, trying not to shout at him for deciding that this wasn’t important information. “I’m going to go to the library and look up different stories. You will stay here, okay?”

Janus looked up from his nails in disbelief.

“What? On my own?” He asked, with wide eyes.

Logan nodded, grabbing his bag.

“Tiny won’t like that,” Janus replied, with a forcefully smooth tone, which suggested that he was also nervous about the idea.

Logan ignored that.

“Then don’t bother them,” he responded shortly, beginning to leave.

Truth be told, he also wasn’t 100% on board with the idea of Tiny and Janus being on their own here, but he also didn’t like the idea of Tiny being actually alone. Patton was out for a while, tending to some plants for the day as a favour

It didn’t take long for Logan to fly to the library, luckily. He brought out three books of folk tales and began reading, searching for any mention of tiny people.

It took an hour or two before he found it, but Janus was right. It matched up. It was one of the less popular stories, and it was old.

The tale detailed a race of tiny people from another world. Non-magical, and fragile. There was an illustration of one of these ‘humans’ and Logan was almost startled by how similar it looked to Tiny. He carried on reading.

There was some kind of natural portal between the worlds, only activated by certain actions. And then he read part of the tale that had one of his questions answered, but left him extremely concerned.

Humans, according to all recollections of the tale, have no magic. But they do have something strange; something in them reacts with faerie magic, meaning that they can be controlled if you learn their name. Most humans in the tales couldn’t speak, so it’s supposedly hard to wrest the information from them, but they could become a valuable tool if you do find yourself faced with the fabled creature.

Logan read it and reread it again, trying to expel the sour taste in his mouth that came from the words and the implications of them. They could be controlled? No wonder they refused to say their name- they clearly knew about this. It certainly gave him an explanation as to why they got so nervous at the idea of it.

He silently checked out the book and put it in his bag and began flying back to Patton’s house.

Strangely, the rope ladder that Janus liked to use to get in and out of the house due to his lack of wings was down. He ignored that and entered the house

The first thing he noticed when he walked in was that Janus was nowhere to be found. The second thing was that Tiny was asleep on their blanket on the table- their sleep schedule had been very random since he’d first found them, and hadn’t much fixed itself. The third thing he noticed was a note on the kitchen counter

“Something interesting happening a little while away, I’ll be back soon,” he read under his breath, careful not to wake Tiny.

Logan grumbled slightly and watched out of the window for Janus’s return

After a few minutes, he did return, seemingly uncaring to Logan’s disapproving stare

“So, what was so interesting that you left Tiny alone after I specified that you were to stay here?”

Janus rolled his eyes

“Oh please, they were asleep when I left, I doubt they minded. But, you might wanna wake them for this,”

Logan furrowed his eyebrows

“Why,” he asked in a suspicious tone “What was this interesting thing you went out to see?”

Janus grinned and reached into his pocket with one of his hands, bringing out another tiny person. Another human.

This one had slightly paler skin, darker clothes, and different hair. They had strange smudges under their eyes that looked like some form of makeup. And they looked entirely terrified.

He could only see half of their face but what he could see was absolutely filled with fear. He looked away from them and back up to Janus

“What- where did you find them?” He asked desperately, adjusting his glasses

“Just a few minutes walk away from here,” Janus asked, dangling the new human in front of his face

Logan frowned

“I thought you learned from Tiny not to dangle them, it scares them,” he said gesturing for him to place the human down on the table, which Janus did. The human stumbled backwards, eyes flittering between them both with clear and pure terror

Logan and Janus talked between themselves for a few moments, discussing how best to go about this, before deciding to wake Tiny up (something Logan almost never did- he knew they didn’t sleep well), and put the other human on the table with them

Both humans stared at each other but Tiny began to speak, though the second one didn’t at first, still staring at he and Janus, as though they were scared of what would happen to them. Logan pushed his feelings down

He’d have a lot to catch Patton up on when he got back

—

@a-chilly-pepper @da3dm @betamash

[hestiasroom]

At first I wasn’t particularly inclined to watch Matt Walsh’s documentary What is a Woman? I know the answer to that one already. Everybody does.

A woman is someone who isn’t allowed a final say on what a woman is. Pretending not to know this — that defining “woman” is incredibly complex and bewildering — is an age-old tactic deployed by non-women, usually in order to excuse treating us badly. 

Are women fully human? Do they have souls? What do women want? Far greater men than the host of The Matt Walsh Show — Aristotle, Thomas Aquinas, Sigmund Freud — have tried and failed to answer these questions (they could always have asked an actual woman, but first they’d have had to establish whether women can think, and then they’d have been back to square one).

As Matt himself says at the start of his film, “I like to make sense of things. Making sense of females is a whole other matter”, noting that “even astrophysicist Stephen Hawking” was “completely dumbfounded by women”.

Even astrophysicist Stephen Hawking! Honestly, ladies, if the author of A Brief History of Time hasn’t a clue what the hell we are, what hope do any of us have? 

The thankless nature of the task may be why the twenty-first century version of The Woman Question has now been allocated to those somewhat lower down the male intellect hierarchy: Edinburgh fringe comedians, disgraced MPs, right-wing shock jocks, Owen Jones and Billy Bragg. 

The proposal that a woman is anyone who defines themselves as a woman — and that no woman may say anyone isn’t a woman — has led to a particularly unimpressive stage of the debate, one which can only be described as the Summa Theologica meets incels r us. 

On the bright side, it’s clear the men are bloody loving it. If you’re left-wing, it’s your chance to put those TERFs in their place after years of having to “do feminism” as part of the right-side-of-history package deal. If you’re right-wing, it’s your opportunity to own all those feminists who suggested female bodies weren’t inferior and that pink, fluffy ladybrains were a myth. As Walsh declares of his film, “the movie makes utter fools of educated elite liberals”. I’m guessing that’s the point. 

I confess to having known very little about Matt Walsh up till now. “I’m a husband, I’m a father of four, I host a talk show, I give speeches, I write books,” he tells us by way of introduction. Hey, that sounds nice! Alas, a quick perusal of his twitter account shows that he’s the kind of renaissance man who tweets things like “feminism is an ugly and bitter ideology” and “rapists love abortion. It helps them cover up their crime”.

He’s also the kind of man who, should feminists show themselves to insufficiently appreciative of his recent woman-defining efforts, tells us we would “rather be a victim than win the fight” and that we “just want to sit on the sidelines and whine”. He’s been, like, getting death threats due to his challenge to contemporary gender mores! Would you risk that, eh, feminists? What’s anyone ever done to you, JK Rowling, you massive coward? 

I first wrote about the problematic nature of a gender identity-based definition of women over eight years ago. Other women, such as Julie Bindel, were sounding the alarm far earlier, and with little support. I know we’re supposed to be eternally grateful to Matt for stepping into the breach. What a gent! As the Onion once put it, Man Finally Put In Charge of Struggling Feminist Movement (admittedly it’s a man who thinks feminism is an ugly and bitter ideology but hey, we can’t have everything). 

In any case, I gave in and watched Matt’s film, just on the off-chance I’d missed something (more fool me; I read Gender Trouble on that basis, and look where that’s got me). There was little in What is a woman? that I didn’t already know from the work of feminists themselves, but that’s no reason to discount it. What’s wrong with alerting the normies to the excesses of trans activism too? 

Walsh never acknowledges the role his own rigid beliefs play

Perhaps the most difficult thing about conveying the absurdities of extreme trans activism to anyone who hasn’t yet encountered it, is that you either sound as though you’re making it up (usually in order to “stoke moral panic”) or the person to whom you’re talking concludes you must have missed some essential point (it would indeed be horrific if teenage girls were having their breasts removed due to social contagion and “progressive” institutions were cheering it on, therefore it can’t be happening. There must be something else afoot).

One of the great things about Walsh’s film is that he shows, first, that harmful things are indeed taking place, and second, that there is no hidden meaning behind them. The therapists, surgeons, academics and politicians to whom he speaks don’t suddenly pull back the curtain and reveal, yes, this is the reason why it isn’t total bollocks to claim that no one really knows what sex anyone is. That moment never comes (and believe me, I’d have loved it if it had. Being a Known TERF is a pain in the arse).

Instead they say things like “a chicken has an assigned gender” and that the word truth is “condescending and rude”. Ha! Aren’t liberals ridiculous? At one point Matt interviews someone who identifies as a wolf (or some other animal. I got bored and went to the kitchen for a biscuit at that point). What’s striking is that you sense his interviewees know on some level that they’re bullshitting. That’s why a number of them end the interview early, citing Walsh’s alleged bad faith as the reason why. 

There are some genuinely moving sections to the film, such as the interviews with female athletes cheated out of prizes by the inclusion of males in the girls’ categories. The contribution from Scott Newgent, a trans man deeply concerned about the impact of medical transition on young females, was incredibly engaging. I could have watched a whole film on Newgent alone, as someone clearly driven by both personal trauma and compassion for others. 

So why, overall, did the film leave a bad taste? Am I just an “ugly and bitter” feminist, peeved that a man has come along and claimed a number of feminist observations as his own? Am I a purist, unwilling to accept any support from anyone whose views don’t align precisely with mine? 

I don’t think so. The problem for me is that Walsh never acknowledges the role his own rigid beliefs play in creating and perpetuating the current situation. 

He finds countless people convinced that the only way to avoid imposing harmful social norms on individuals on the basis of their sexed bodies, is to pretend we can’t define said bodies or impute any social meaning to them at all. Yet he does nothing to suggest one shouldn’t impose said norms, or that his own pink/blue fantasies of girlhood and boyhood might be leading those who don’t conform to feel they are somehow “wrong”. 

“Give my son a BB gun and that’s just about all the emotional support he needs,” he muses over a children’s party scene, all boys in blue jeans, all girls pink princesses. “My daughter on the other hand … I’ve heard people say that there are no differences between male and female. Those people are idiots.”

Hmm. I have three children, all biologically male, all of whom have played with dolls houses and worn dresses. Two of them have Frozen-style long blonde hair and I’ve never bought any of them a toy gun (nor have any of them asked for one). 

Women are caught between two forms of misogyny

According to Walsh’s own gender ideology, I’m on the slippery slope towards the erasure of any stable definition of “male” and “female” at all. This is the mirror image of the absurdities of trans activism. Both Walsh and the people he interviews conflate sex difference denialism with the rejection of gender stereotypes. He thinks we should suffer the stereotypes; they think we should suffer the surgery. Feminists believe we shouldn’t suffer either. 

There’s a particularly grim scene where Walsh attends a Women’s March, and delights in harassing female protestors who don’t want to give a precise definition of the word “woman”. Much as this reticence frustrates me, too, I know where it comes from. The polarised politics of the day has told these women they must choose between denying their sex and accepting an anti-choice, conservative vision of what it means to be an adult human female. It’s a vision Matt Walsh shares.

These women are caught between two forms of misogyny but to Walsh, it’s all “own the libs” fun and games. This man is not on our side, nor will he win over the women he lazily misrepresents as not knowing what’s good for them. 

At the end of the film, Matt returns home from his gender odyssey to his waiting Penelope. She is, of course, in the kitchen, and happens to be struggling with a pickle jar. 

“What is a woman?” he asks her.

“An adult human female — who needs help opening this!” she responds. Got it, ladies? He’ll defend our right to exist as a sex class, as long as we can all agree it’s the weaker one. 

In the end, I’m just so fed up with the machismo. Last year I spoke to one of the founders of Woman’s Place UK, who told me sex-based rights will ultimately be defended best by those in it for “the victory, not the glory”. The people, mainly women, often lesbians and women of colour, who do the dull, behind the scenes work of compiling data and challenging unfair practices one by one. The people who aren’t seeking to reimpose other, equally oppressive beliefs about sex and gender. 

It may be that What is a Woman? helps, by showing some still on the fence that the problem is real. Others, it may push in the other direction. Either way, women themselves won’t be thanked for their own hard work and significant risks. 

After all, that’s just what being a woman is.

[pokemon-card-of-the-day]

Pokemon Card of the Day #2929: Darkness Energy (Neo Genesis)

As with Metal Energy, the new Darkness-type was limited to a Special Energy from its release all the way through 2007 when Diamond and Pearl finally treated it like a normal type. The original Darkness Energy had the Pokemon it was attached to, no matter the type, deal 10 more damage to the Defending Pokemon. A damage counter was also put on the Pokemon it was attached to if it wasn't Darkness-type or had Dark in its name.

The main use, of course, was for Darkness-types, with Sneasel being the focus until it was banned. The type wasn't the most impressive after that, with Houndoom and Dark Houndoom getting a bit of use but otherwise the type was pretty unimpressive. Darkness Energy was sometimes included for Dark Pokemon such as Dark Feraligatr, and the damage boost could indeed help out. It would help said Dark Feraligatr get through anything without Metal Energy or Gold Berry in 2 hits, for example.

There was one additional use due to the strange quirks of the card that were removed once Ruby & Sapphire were released. You could boost damage for other Pokemon too, as long as you were willing to take the admittedly steep damage penalty. This, along with a heavily Feraligatr-focused format early in the Rocket-On format, ended up with people putting Darkness Energy and a random Basic Grass-type in just to smack down a Totodile in a hit. The two Pokemon that got used were Erika's Bellsprout and the Caterpie from Neo Discovery, as crazy as that sounded. Those two had a real niche in an environment that focused heavily around a single deck, though once more sets were released and the game diversified they weren't nearly as useful. This idea rarely sees use in modern takes of Rocket-On due to the wider competition available, not all of which were running Grass-weak Pokemon with 50 HP.

[i-didnt-do-1t]

David is the type to adamantly disagree with the idea he gets bullied at school- a short fic, and somehow the first thing I’ve written for newsies lmao

Admittedly, David was optimistic to think he’d make it the whole day with no one asking about it.

“So. Dave.” Jack said, draping himself over David’s shoulder, arm a vice grip around the back of his neck in an approximation of the friendly tactility the newsies had perfected. “You gonna talk about it?”

David, for his part, didn’t even try to struggle out of the grip, all too used to Jack’s body weight being propped against him. He was a shelf for Jack’s elbow essentially, which was almost impressive considering the slight height advantage he had. He was just glad that wasn’t a nickname that ever stuck. Someone tried once, and David found himself launching into defence of himself, because despite what some people might think he did have self respect and before he even reached the two minute mark JoJo had rolled his eyes and waved him off saying, “Yeah. Never mind, forgot why you were called Mouth.”

He still wasn’t sure whether to be offended or not.

At Jack’s question, he didn’t roll his eyes. Didn’t look up from the leftover newspaper he was holding.

“Wasn’t a bad headline this morning. A fire.”

“Yeah. I know, I have eyes Dave.”

“Almost forgot with how observant you are.” His tone was dry.

That earned him a scuff up the back of the head and a scoff from Jack, almost something like a laugh.

“Alright smartass just because I miss one thing-“

“He was right in front of you-“

“Don’t mean I can’t see the shiner you got this morning.”

“-I mean, I know Spot’s not the tallest but-“

“Ay. Dave.” David shut his mouth. “Quit ignoring me.”

Still, he couldn’t help himself. “Sorry, habit.”

(He was not sorry at all.)

He could practically feel Jacks frown, “Alright, n’ quit the sarcastic bullshit for a sec.”

“I don’t know what your talking abou-“

Jack’s casual lean across his shoulder changed, throwing David a little of balance till Jack’s hand caught at the nape of his neck like he was a cat.

This was embarrassing.

Jack stared him dead in the eye, unimpressed.

“Black eye Davey. Start talking.”

He repressed a sigh. Not even attempting to shake off the grip and regain some dignity. Instead he sent Jack a blank stare back, one of his own unimpressed ones, the type he used on Race sometimes when he told a particularly bad joke.

“It’s nothing.”

“If it were nothing you woulda told me already.”

“No. I wouldn’t.”

“Was it your da?”

That gave him pause, and then he noticed the concern in Jack’s expression, just underneath everything, in the way he searched his face as if, if he looked hard enough, he could tell whose fist the bruise matched.

“No. No Jack, I promise. He wouldn’t do something like that.”

“Right, that’s what Albert thought bout his da too.”

He wasn’t unfamiliar with the back story of a few of the others, the ones that didn’t mind talking about it, but that never made hearing about it any easier. Suddenly Jack’s tenseness, the confrontation, made sense.

“It wasn’t him. I promise.”

Jack held his gaze for a second longer before he finally looked away and released his grip.

“Alright. I’m trustin you Davey.”

Damn.

He swallowed his pride.

“It was a guy from school.”

Jack raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. “What some hoity-toity asshole landed a hit on you?”

“Yeah.” Jack pulled a face, and Davey couldn’t help but snort. “I appreciate the surprise Jack but I’m not sure it’s warranted.”

“Why’d anyone wanna hit you?”

David sent him a blank look at that, and Jack rolled his shoulder.

“Yeah okay. What’d you do?”

“Get higher scores than him even though I missed a few months.”

“Huh.”

He folded up the paper he was holding, and tucked it under his arm, squinting as he looked at Jack, the sun behind him creeping around the lodge house and silhouetting him.

“I don’t think he likes that I’m a newsie and smart because he’s got some warped sense of money equalling brains or something stupid.”

“Sounds like the average rich kid.”

David half shrugged, looking away. “You get used to it.”

“You getting bullied then?”

“What? No.”

“Sounds like you’re getting bullied.”

“I’m not getting bullied.”

“Yeah, sure are persuasive with that shiner there Davey.”

“Blink literally gave me a black eye two months ago.”

“You deserved that one you were being an ass.”

“He was also being an ass I just didn’t hit him.”

“Oh.”

He sent him a pointed look. “Yeah oh.”

“Well, look, you need a hand with anything Dave let us know.” He reached over and clapped him hard on the shoulder. “We got your back alright.”

He couldn’t help but let his lips twitch up at that. David had never really been the type to have friends before he met Jack, sometimes it was easy to forget.

“Thanks.”

He slung his arm back around David’s shoulder again, dragging him toward the Lodge-house. All week the boys had been waiting for their Friday night poker game, hosted by Race and betting marbles.

He stumbled forward, pulled by the familiar weight. He could practically feel Jack’s eye roll as he answered.

“Yeah yeah, shut up.”

[boombambaby]

Drabble; The ENTRANCE. (pt.1)

This is the big one, folks! I apologize in advance for the literal novel this drabble turned in to; but this is always how I pictured Kuzco making his 'grand' entrance to Kuzco Academy, and why everyone was immediately so unimpressed with him. So; for those who read? Enjoy!

“There are despots and dictators, political manipulators. There are blue bloods with the intellects of fleas.– There are kings and petty tyrants, who are so lacking in refinements– they’d be better suited swinging from the trees!” As far as first days of school go, this particular morning would definitely be considered quiet and uneventful. 

Students mill around on the school campus in small groups and cliques, with some standing around or sitting at the outdoor cafeteria tables, some reclining against the edge of the llama fountain– all of them catching up on what they missed over the break, and the new idle gossip. “He was born and raised to rule, no one has ever been this cool– in a thousand years of aristocracy!– An enigma and a mystery, in Mesoamerican history– the quintessence of perfection, that is HE!” Amongst the popular topics today are who’s dating who now, which extracurriculars everyone will be joining for the year and who’s coming back, or newly attending Kuzco Academy. There’s rumors going around that Kronk is enrolled, which is big considering what an athlete he is. Coach Sweety is already making plans for him to join just about every varsity team they have. Rumors swirl that Kuzco will be attending as well, though that’s admittedly far less gossip worthy. For the most part, it’s confusing. He is their Emperor, and has been in the public eye for as long as any of them can remember– what reason would he ever have to attend a public school, even one with his name on it? Secondary to that, it’s well known around the Kingdom what an egomaniac the Emperor is. If the stories are true, Kuzco will be hard pressed to fit in with any of them; not that he’ll want to speak with the ‘peasant’ class he’s supposed to be ruling over. That’s gossip for you, though. It’s all pretty boring, really. “Did you hear about Kronk? He’s starting this year for continuing education– “ “Oh I know! Oh, Kronk. He’s so dreamy, and those muscles!” A cacophony of noise in the form of blaring trumpets breaks the quiet of the early morning, so startling in the intensity of their sound that it causes several of the students standing around the fountain to drop their books in favor of covering their ears. In the next moment, guards rush up the stairs of the school, unceremoniously shoving students out of the way to clear room for the entourage making its way through. The students not in the way stare, dumbfounded at the spectacle, looking at one another as if making absolute sure this is really happening. It is. “OHH YEAH!– “ When the golden litter and the guards carrying it finally clear the final few steps to reach the landing, Kuzco is already standing in the middle of it with the curtains drawn to the side around him and his hands on his hips. Theme Song Guy chooses that moment to slide in on his knees from underneath the litter, microphone in hand as he swings his arm around to the students standing in front of them. 

“HE’S THE SOVEREIGN LORD OF THE NATION, HE’S THE HIPPEST DUDE IN CREATION. HE’S THE HEP CAT IN THE EMPEROR’S NEW CLOTHES!” Kuzco jumps down from the litter, flexing his arms and grinning wildly as the guards carrying the litter head back down the stairs, so the guards who know the dance routine can come up behind him in a row. “YEARS OF SUCH SELECTIVE BREEDING, GENERATIONS HAVE BEEN LEADING– – TO THIS MIRACLE OF LIFE THAT WE ALL KNOW! WHAT’S HIS NAME?” Theme Song Guy points at the students closest to him once he pops back up onto his feet, who stare blankly back at him in return. If it weren’t for the music, you could almost certainly hear crickets in the background– until a lone voice behind the crowd pipes up with a ‘KUZZZCOOOOOOO!’ (Thank you, Guaka.) With an exaggerated hip thrust, Kuzco breaks into his dance, flouncing all over the landing at the top of the stairs as he goes through the routine with his guards river-dancing in the background. It’s exactly what he had been hoping for– a GRAND entrance, for his adoring public. He is the EMPEROR, after all. He deserves nothing less! And they all deserve to know who it is they’ll be dealing with for the next few years! “HE’S THE SOVEREIGN LORD OF THE NATION, HE’S THE HIPPEST CAT IN CREATION! HE’S THE ALPHA THE OMEGA A TO Z! – AND HIS PERFECT WORLD WILL SPIN, AROUND HIS EVERY LITTLE WHIM. ‘CAUSE HIS PERFECT WORLD BEGINS AND ENDS WITH– “ Kuzco cuts him off with a spin in which he throws his arms out to the side, leg kicking out as he lands the spin and his hands moving back in to point at his own face. “ME!” Guaka’s voice carries as he sings along with the refrain ‘KUUUUZZZCOOOO’ and Kuzco continues his dance routine, oblivious to the wide eyed, incredulous stares and the laughter bubbling up from the students around him. Before he can finish entirely they’re all cut off by a loud, shrill voice that resonates over the campus from the entrance to the school; “KUZCO! ENOUGH!” If anyone would recognize both the music and the dance routine, it would be none other than; you guessed it! . . .

[hunnywrites]

Summary: Cheryl Burns: The She Demon of Hawkins High. She's got a heart of brimstone and her eyes set on Eddie Munson. Will she be able to reform her ways, or will the curse of Hawkins, Indiana keep her from getting what she wants?

 Pairing: Eddie Munson/OFC 

 A/N: I'm so excited for this series. Our dear Eddie Munson has bewitched Cheryl, who is the absolute worst, body and soul, and I can't wait to go on this adventure with her. And while there's some obvious similarities to Arcade Dreams, we're gonna be in for a very fast, messy, bumpy ride with these two. Definitely no slow burn this time around. I can’t wait for you all to see what a total freak Cheryl is. 

It was a hot, miserable, summer day in Hawkins. Eddie had parked his van in the parking lot of the 7/11 that sat next to the Hawkins public pool. Gareth was inside getting snacks while Jeff was taking first watch. Eddie was perched nervously behind him, waiting for any updates. 

“She’s just…standing there, dude,” Jeff said, eyes trained on his binoculars. “Maybe we should’ve gone to the pool. It might’ve been easier to spy-”

“Okay,” Eddie interrupted him. “Don’t like the term spying. That makes it sound like we’re perverts or something. This is reconnaissance.” he corrected. 

Jeff let out a snort. “Well, whatever you call it, I still think we should’ve hauled your pasty ass over there anywa- ow! Dick.” Jeff laughed as he swung blindly behind him after Eddie had pinched his arm. 

Gareth soon emerged from the convenience store, three slurpees and two bags of chips wrapped in his arms and a slim jim hanging from between his teeth. “Any movement?” he mumbled around the plastic.

“Nope. Same exact place she was ten minutes ago.” Jeff sighed, taking a long drink of his cherry slurpee. 

“Maybe we should just go over there,” Gareth suggested, repeating Jeff’s idea. “Well, you should. Teddi told you she was into you, didn’t she?”

“What if this is some sick joke and Teddi’s in on it?” Jeff offered.

Gareth rolled his eyes. “You seriously think Teddi’s gone full dark side?” 

“Not. Happening.” Eddie said, reaching forward and snatching the binoculars from Jeff. He pointed them in the direction of the pool’s snackbar, his eyes landing on the subject of their reconnaissance. Cheryl Burns. She was wearing a white polo with the ‘Hawkins public pool’ logo embroidered over its breast pocket. Her cuffed, red shorts clung perfectly to the curves of her waist and hips, and her strawberry blonde hair was up in a ponytail. Eddie sighed. 

Cheryl’s arms were crossed. She was looking on at nothing in particular with a bored and unimpressed look. Every so often she looked back at the shiny red clock that hung on the snackbar’s wall, her lips pursing each time she checked. 

About a week ago his friend Teddi Larsson had told Eddie that Cheryl had a thing for him. While he wasn’t sure when exactly hell had frozen over and had caused Teddi to start hanging out with Cheryl Burns of all people, he knew she wasn’t a liar. Which made things all that much more confusing. 

Two months ago Cheryl had been at the top of the food chain of Hawkins High. Eddie was positive she had no idea he existed. Which was admittedly a blow to the ego seeing as she’d bought weed from him more times than he could count and they had been paired up to raise one of those flour bag babies four years ago in health class. He wasn’t entirely sure what he was expecting to come of him watching her now. He’d told Jeff and Gareth the news and suddenly he was just there at the 7/11 with binoculars and not an ounce of shame. 

Alright, maybe some shame. 

“Maybe it’s ‘cause she’s sort of a loser now, too,” Gareth suggested. Eddie and Jeff both look at him like he’d grown a second head. “What? I mean, she graduated and all of her friends are gonna go off to college and she’s…y’know, here.” he nodded towards the pool. 

“Yeah, uh, sorry, dude…Cheryl not going to college doesn’t change the fact that she’s the hottest girl in Hawkins,” Jeff shook his head. “...And possibly all of Indiana.” 

“You guys gotta stop talking about her like that,” Eddie argued. “It’s gonna be really awkward after I win her over with my charm and sexual prowess.” 

Eddie frowned when his friends burst into laughter. “That’s funny,” Jeff snorted. “Tell us another one, Ed.” 

Gareth grabbed the binoculars, focusing back to the task at hand. “Uh, guys? We got movement,” he announced. Eddie and Jeff both looked at each other before crowding behind Gareth, trying their best to see whatever it was he was seeing. 

Cheryl ducked out of the snackbar, tossing her ponytail over her shoulder and hips swaying as she headed for the locker rooms. It was like she was walking in slow motion in Eddie’s mind’s eye. Like his own personal recreation of Fast Times.

She stopped when she got to the locker room door, turning and looking directly at Eddie’s van. All three boys took in a deep breath. Cheryl pursed her lips again, lifting her hand and flipping them off with a long, perfectly painted, red and sparkly fingernail before she disappeared inside.

“Fuck,” Eddie hissed. “Close the doors. Get in the van!” he grabbed Gareth by the back of his shirt, yanking him inside as Jeff slammed the door shut behind them. The three boys went still, sharing nervous looks as they waited for someone to speak up.

“...Maybe she didn’t see us,” they looked at Gareth as if he’d sprouted yet another head. “What? There’s a lot of people at the pool today!”

Jeff rolled his eyes. “Yeah, there’s a lot of people at the pool, so she looked over at us watching her with binoculars next door. Makes sense, dude.” 

“How the hell did I let you guys talk me into this?” Eddie asked, running a hand through his hair. 

“Us?” Jeff asked. “It was your idea!” 

“Well…you could’ve told me it was a stupid plan!” Eddie argued. 

Gareth raised a hand. “I’d like to go on record as saying that I did in fact say this was a stupid plan.” 

“We should go,” Eddie said, ignoring him. “We get out of here and we pretend that this never happ-” the three jumped when someone knocked on the back door. They shared a look before Eddie crawled to the back of the van, swinging the door open to reveal Cheryl Burns fixing him with a look that would strike him dead had she had the power to do so.

“You know,” she said as she crossed her arms. “Usually when a guy wants to play peeping tom it’s at night through a bedroom window or something. I don’t know a lot of people who do it in the middle of the day,” she spat. “I’m starting to see why you keep failing senior year. You’re kind of a fucking moron.”

Eddie winced. He stumbled from the van, shutting the door behind him and closing his friends inside. He clasped his hands behind his back, rocking back and forth on his heels. “I can totally explain-”

Cheryl rolled her eyes. “I’m gonna assume that this is because of Teddi.” 

“Whaaat would make you say that?” he asked.

“Because she loves to meddle,” Eddie couldn’t exactly argue with that. “Look,” she sighed, placing her hands on her hips. “Can I give you some advice? If you like a girl, or whatever, maybe try asking her out instead of being a freak stalker? ‘Cause this is exactly how you get kicked in the dick.” 

Eddie let out a laugh, scratching the back of his head. “Point taken…so, uh, would you want-”

“I’d rather cut off my own arm and eat it,” Cheryl said, cutting him off. “I think this puts you behind Steve Harrington on the list of guys I wouldn’t fuck even if we were the last two people on Earth.” 

Eddie winced again. “...Is he high on that list, at least?” 

“He was the only one on that list,” she smiled sweetly at him. “If I catch any of you watching me again, I’m shoving those binoculars up your dickhole.” 

Eddie watched as she walked away, whipping around and opening the door to his van only after she was totally out of view. Jeff and Gareth both stumbled forward, obviously eavesdropping in on the conversation. Jeff smiled up at Eddie. “What was that you were saying, man? You were gonna win her over with your charm and sexual prowess?”

Gareth let out a snort. “Yeah, tell that to your dickhole, dude.” 

Eddie rolled his eyes, shoving past them and crawling into the van. “It’s a work in progress,” he argued. “She totally wants me.” whether he was assuring them or himself, he wasn’t really sure. 

“When did she say that?” Gareth asked. “When she was saying she’d kick you in the dick? Or shove binoculars up your dickhole?” 

“Or when she said you’re behind Harrington on the list of dudes she’d never fuck?” Jeff added, the two bursting into laughter. 

Eddie grumbled, sliding into the driver’s seat. “Beats you two assholes. She doesn’t even know you exist.” he muttered.

“Yeah, yeah. So, where to now? Back to your place to lick your wounds in private?” Jeff asked, hopping into the passenger’s seat. 

“No,” Eddie gritted out. “I gotta get to work,” he waved a hand at them. “So, get out of the van.”

“Oh, come on!” Gareth complained “You could at least give us a ride to my place!”

“You should’ve thought about that before you let me go with this stupid ass plan,” Eddie jabbed his thumb in the direction of the pool. “I gotta regroup, dude. Come up with a new approach. There’s a pay phone right over there,” he nodded to it. “Call Freak, see if he’ll pick you up.” 

Eddie waved them out of the van again, his friends grumbling and muttering at him as they hopped out into the parking lot. Eddie threw his van in reverse, throwing only a quick glance over his shoulder before he peeled out of the lot. 

He spotted Cheryl standing next to her car, talking with one of the lifeguards. For once she didn’t look completely and utterly irritated. Eddie slowed down as he passed, rolling his window down and honking his horn. “See ya, Cheryl!” he called, waving wildly at her. Cheryl whipped her head to look at him, casting another deadly glare in his direction. 

She flashed a middle finger at him once again. “Oh yeah,” Eddie chuckled, rolling up his window and driving away. “She wants me.” 

—

“So, you’re saying that Teddi told you that Cheryl told her that she’s into you?” Billy asked, leaning against the counter. Eddie nodded, letting out an uuuuh-huh. Billy scratched his head. “...Well, why the hell wouldn’t she tell me about something like that?”

Eddie shrugged, using the pricing gun to smack a price sticker on a Pat Benatar album before tossing it back onto the messy stack of new inventory. “I don’t know what goes on in your relationship, dude. I’m just filling you in on the situation.” 

“Whatever,” Billy scoffed. “So, you find out that Cheryl’s got a thing for you…and your first thought is to stalk her?”

Eddie groaned, smacking the gun against the next album a little more forcefully. “It wasn’t stalking, man. It was reconnaissance.” he argued. 

“The hell for? She’s a chick. What were you expecting to happen?” He still didn’t really have an answer for that. Something about the situation had felt so wrong that he felt like he needed to resort to spying. “Besides, I work at the pool. We’re friends. You could’ve just come by and said ‘hey, Cheryl. Is Billy around? By the way, you are lookin’ hot today, you doing anything this Saturday?’ Simple.”

Eddie mulled it over for a moment. “...Something tells me that would’ve actually gotten me kicked in the dick.”

“What for? If you say it with enough confidence she’ll totally fall for it.” 

Eddie laughed, reaching over the counter and smacking a price sticker onto the sleeve of his jacket. “Think you’re forgetting we’re on two opposite ends of the food chain here, Billy boy.” 

“That food chain shit isn’t real, dude,” Billy rolled his eyes. “She’s into you. You just gotta make the first move. Turn on the charm. Not fucking stalk her. Besides, Cheryl’s easy-...no offense.” 

Eddie narrowed his eyes, tilting his head. “...None taken?”

Billy grinned, turning and raising a judgemental eyebrow at his friend. “I don’t get it, Munson. You don’t usually have a problem getting any. You trying to tell me Cheryl’s got some kinda brain frying powers?”

The image of Cheryl walking in slow motion towards him flashed in Eddie’s mind. He winced. “It’s more like she makes all the blood rush out of my head.” he said, the two of them laughing. 

“You should try that next time you talk to her,” Billy chuckled. “Probably find it flattering.”

“Yeah,” Eddie snorted. “Thanks, ya Casanova,” Billy scoffed, rolling his eyes and pushing away from the counter. Eddie flashed his friend a knowing smile. “What? Am I wrong? You found a girl that likes all the same shit as you, actually likes hanging around you and wants to have sex with you. That’s, like, the dream, dude.” and maybe Cheryl wouldn’t be that for him, but, she was a girl that might have sex with him, and one out of three wasn’t too bad in his book. 

Billy stifled a smirk before letting out a sigh and running a hand over his head. “Yeah, well, it’s not all it’s cracked up to be sometimes,” Eddie only raised an eyebrow. Billy shifted awkwardly, picking at the small bandage on his forehead. “Our apartment’s a total shithole. The power’s going out all the time, sometimes it’s like the building’s sitting on fucking train tracks. Teddi wants to move. Get a house closer to town.”

Eddie wriggled his eyebrows. “The people across the street from my place just moved out. Prime real estate. Know a guy that can hook you guys up with some sick ass weed.”

Billy let out a short laugh. “You know, something tells me she’s gonna say no to that idea, Munson,” Eddie made a face. “I’m just trying to figure out when my life became…this. I moved to this shithole ready to count the days ‘til I could leave and now it looks like I’m gonna be a lifer,” he shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket. “It’s like this roller coaster on the boardwalk back home. It was this huge piece of shit wooden thing that I’d been on a million times, but every time I’d ride it there’d be that voice in the back of mind wondering if that would be the day the thing finally collapsed.” 

Eddie grinned, crossing his arms and leaning back against the counter. “I think you should do it, dude,” Billy shot him a look. “I’m serious. It’d be, like, a sick ass party pad,” he laughed when Billy rolled his eyes. “Hey, you know, you could let us have Hellfire Club meetings there!”

“Oh, abso-fucking-lutely not, Munson-”

“Eddie!” the two boys looked over at Mark, Eddie’s manager, as he walked into the store. He was the opposite of Eddie. He had a smart hair cut, wore glasses and tacky sweaters. He was also a complete hard ass. “Come on, man! I’m not paying you to sit around and chit chat.” 

Eddie stood a little straighter, looking around the store. “Dude, there’s literally no one else here. Plus, I finished all the new inventory,” he nodded at Billy. “And I’m chatting up a customer.” Billy smirked at Mark, giving him a short wave. 

Mark rolled his eyes. “Just get back to work.” he pushed past Billy, heading to the back storage room and slamming the door behind him.

“Guy seems like a dick.” Billy noted with a cool expression.

Eddie rolled his eyes. “‘Cause he is. It’s Sam Goody, you know? Not fuckin’ Wall Street. He told me when I came in today he’s hiring some chick to help “pick up the slack”. Pfft.” he shook his head. 

“Yeah?” Billy grinned. “Well, there you go. If you completely fuck up with Cheryl you got a back up,” Eddie let out a snort. Billy checked his watch, letting out an annoyed huff. “Shit, I gotta go pick up Teddi from work. Total pain in the ass having to borrow her van while my car’s in the shop. Like I’m everyone’s chauffeur suddenly.” he muttered. 

“Oh, yeah. You ever figure out what you hit?” Eddie hadn’t gotten the entire story. Mostly that Billy had been on his way to pick up Teddi, something had hit his Camaro head on and Billy had blacked out. 

Billy shook his head. “Nah. Still can’t really remember much. Gotta admit though, it’s pretty nice having Teddi play nurse,” he grinned. Eddie laughed, rolling his eyes. Billy took a step back, giving Eddie a short wave before pausing. “...Don’t actually say the hard on line to Cheryl, by the way. I was kidding.” 

Eddie raised his eyebrows. “...I thought you were serious, soooo, thank you for clarifying.” he admitted with a sheepish grin. 

Billy let out a short laugh, shaking his head. “Anytime. Later, Freak.”

“Later, Asshole.” 

—

Heather swung the door to the Palace Arcade open, her hair swinging as she turned to wait for Cheryl to catch up with her. The two girls linked arms as they walked inside, Cheryl casting a quick glance around the arcade for any sign of Keith as the pair made their way back to the prize counter. 

Teddi was spraying the glass counter down, wiping it with a ratty rag and nodding her head along to the Tears For Fears song playing over the speakers. She looked up as her friends approached, smiling and waving before she stowed her cleaning supplies in a cabinet that lined the back wall. “Hey! What are you guys doing here?” she asked. 

“We came to see if you needed a ride home.” Heather explained, looking down at all of the prizes beneath the glass. 

Cheryl pursed her lips, leaning against the counter. “Heather wanted to see if you needed a ride home.” she corrected. Heather rolled her eyes.  

Teddi snickered and shook her head. “That’s so sweet of you,” she teased. “But, Billy’s coming to get me.”

Cheryl picked at her nails, not bothering to look over at the blonde. “That’s nice. I’m here because I have a bone to pick with you, Larsson.” 

Teddi raised an eyebrow while Heather let out a groan. “You always have a bone to pick with someone.” Heather complained. 

Cheryl turned to face Teddi, bracing herself against the counter. “Did you or did you not tell Eddie Munson that I have a thing for him?” Heather was looking between her two friends with wide eyes. Teddi looked guilty. Cheryl pointed a finger at her. “Specifically after I told you that I don’t need your help getting dates?” 

Teddi shifted awkwardly. “I may have mentioned something to him-” Cheryl glared at her. “I thought it would be harmless!” she argued. 

“Sure,” Cheryl clicked, crossing her arms. “Harmless. That’s why he’s, like, totally stalking me now.” she scoffed. 

“What?” Heather asked. “What the hell, Cheryl? How is this the first I’m hearing about any of this? I totally didn’t know you had a thing for Eddie Munson.” she said his name quietly like it was some sort of dirty secret. It was if you asked Cheryl.

The girls ignored her. Teddi shook her head. “Okay, what exactly do you mean that he was stalking you?” Teddi asked, leaning against the prize counter.

Heather’s eyes were wide, unphased by the pair ignoring her. “Yeah, Cheryl. Should you, like, tell someone about this?”

Cheryl rolled her eyes. “He’s totally harmless, Heather. He’s just a pervert. And I mean that he was sitting in his van with his little freakoid friends in the 7/11 parking lot watching me work for, like, half an hour before I caught him. I mean, who does that?”

“...I used to lounge out at the pool and watch Steve work back when he was a lifeguard.” Heather admitted, her eyes shifting awkwardly between her friends. 

Teddi pat Heather on the back. “I don’t think that’s the same thing, Heather,” she shifted, looking over at Cheryl. “I’ll admit, when I told Eddie-”

“Which I’m still trying to figure out why you told him when you were told that in confidence.” Cheryl glared at her. 

“To be fair you never specified that it was in confidence,” Teddi argued. “Besides, I wasn’t helping you, I was helping him. He’s probably always thought that you think he’s a freak-”

“He is a freak.” Cheryl said. 

“And yet you still like him anyway,” Heather said with a smile. “Like, look at how worked up you are over this,” she tilted her head. “Well, actually, you kinda always look like that. But, still! I’m just trying to figure out why you’re being such a freak. I mean, what’s so great about Eddie?”

Cheryl let out an annoyed grunt, crossing her arms and shrugging. “...He makes me feel sick,” she confessed. Teddi and Heather both shared confused looks. Cheryl huffed. “When I’d go with Billy to buy weed from him he, like, ignored me, right? But, after I broke up with Billy and started going alone he would talk to me. Like, a lot. And he’d flirt with me. Which, like, okay, everyone does, but he hadn’t before, you know? So, I was always wondering if it was some sort of, like, sales tactic. Then that just made me start thinking about him all the time. And, every time I do I feel sick. Like, I’m gonna hurl. And, like, my heart and my stomach are up in my throat. And, I get all sweaty-”

Heather laughed. Cheryl glared at her. “Cheryl, that’s literally just having a crush on someone.” 

Cheryl sneered. “You’re telling me that this is normal?” she asked.

“Unfortunately.” Teddi nodded. 

“You should ask him out!” Heather suggested. “Teddi has his number. You should call him-”

Cheryl’s sneer somehow grew wider as she shook her head. “Ew, Heather. Are you insane? Do I look desperate to you?” she didn’t give her time to answer. “And, like, who even cares, anyway? This isn’t a crush. I had a small, carnal interest in him that I’ll get bored with in, like, a week,” she pointed at Heather. “So, no asking Eddie out,” she pointed at Teddi. “And no trying to help him get laid so long as I’m involved. Got it?” 

The three girls turned at the sound of the employee break room door opening behind Teddi. Cheryl rolled her eyes as Keith strolled out. Just what she needed. Keith looked between the three of them with a sly smile that Cheryl wanted to smack off his face. “Ladies…Cheryl.”

“Eavesdropping again, Keith?” Cheryl asked, her manicured fingernails angrily gripping the edge of the prize counter.

“Not my fault if you’re speaking loudly next to my office-”

“It’s not an office, Keith. It’s a broom closet,” she spat. “Don’t you have a six year old to harass or something?”

“Does Eddie Munson know you still have feelings for me?” 

Cheryl, Teddi and Heather all rolled their eyes. Cheryl turned away from Keith, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “That’s it. I’m out of here. Come on, Heather. I’ll see you later, Teddi.” She spun around on her heel, not bothering to see if Heather was following after her. 

Her teeth were grinding together as she fished for the keys to her Pontiac Sunbird from her purse. Were all men so infuriating? So presumptuous? Whether it was a guy like Billy or a total loser like Keith? Cheryl swallowed the urge to let out a frustrated scream.

“Are you ever gonna tell us what happened with you and Keith?” Heather asked, hurrying after Cheryl through the parking lot. 

Cheryl let out an annoyed grunt and unlocked her car. “There’s nothing to tell,” she slid into the driver’s seat. “He’s like every other guy in Hawkins. Just because he’s a nerd he thinks he can treat me like I’m a piece of arm candy,” she scoffed. She looked over at Heather, who was buckling her seatbelt with what Cheryl could only describe as a suspicious expression. “If you bring up Eddie again, Heather, I swear to god-” 

“He could be different!” Heather argued, throwing her hands up. “I’m just saying! You never know until you try, right? And if I’m being completely honest you’ve been, like, a huge bitch since you broke up with Keith…well, more than normal.”

Cheryl glared at her best friend. “I’ll ask Eddie out when you finally get the nerve to ask Steve out.” 

Heather shook her head, crossing her arms and sinking in her seat. “...That’s different. I could ask him out, it doesn’t change that he’s still totally hung up on Nancy,” she turned to Cheryl, a pleading look in her eyes. “Come on, Cheryl. It’s slim pickings in Hawkins and I only have, like, two months until I go off to college. The least you could do is let me live vicariously through you having a hot summer fling. Even if it is with Eddie Munson. Pleeease?” she batted her eyelashes at her.

Cheryl grumbled, looking over her shoulder as she pulled out of the parking lot. “I hate when you make that face. You’re like a pathetic, wounded dog.” 

Heather smiled. “I’ll take that as a yes,” she sat upright. “So, what are you doing tomorrow? Me and Teddi have the day off. Maybe we can go to the movies or something? Shopping?”

“I can’t tomorrow. It’s my first day at the new place, remember?” 

Heather groaned. “Ugh, right. Are you sure you don’t wanna keep working at the pool? I mean, me, you and Teddi are all finally friends now. It’s nice having people to talk to. Billy isn’t the greatest and making chit chat with.”

“Trust me, I know,” Cheryl said with a snort. “And I’m positive. I fucking hate it there. I mean, no offense, or whatever. But, I’d rather spend a day handcuffed to a rabid dog than serve anyone else fries or cokes or be forced to look at Mr. Myers’ pasty ass in that speedo of his,” she shuddered at the image. “This is, like, the mothership calling me home, you know? Totally can’t pass it up.”

“Fine,” Heather sighed dramatically. “...Can we come visit you on your first day, then?” she asked. 

“I don’t know why you’re asking,” Cheryl rolled her eyes. “You’re gonna do it anyway.” 

“True,” Heather chirped, smiling widely. Cheryl pulled into Heather’s driveway, shooting an unamused look at her best friend. “Well, good luck tomorrow. And call Eddie, okay? Or at least think about it. I’m gonna harass you about it if you don’t.” she warned, pointing a finger at Cheryl. 

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll think about it. No promises.” that was good enough for Heather. She smiled again, slipping out of the car and hurrying up to her front door. She turned, waving at Cheryl before she went inside. 

Cheryl grumbled as she pulled out of the driveway. She wasn’t going to consider it. She’d placate Heather until she forgot about the situation or went off to college. Whichever came first. There was a tinge of annoyance that shot through Cheryl at the thought of Heather leaving for college. It’s not like she was surprised.  Heather’s father ran the town’s newspaper. He was smart, successful, and had goals. He’d instilled a lot of his good qualities into Heather. Heather had drive. Dreams. 

So, what was wrong with Cheryl? Her father was successful. She’d grown up with more money than Heather. In a bigger house. Cheryl’s father had raised her alone and done everything he could to make sure that Cheryl had a good head on her shoulders. So what was it about her that was so broken? Why didn’t she have any real dreams like Heather?

There was also the added issue that maybe Heather would come back to Hawkins during a break from school and would be someone that Cheryl didn’t recognize anymore. Would she still want to be her friend? 

Maybe all of that urban legend bullshit about Hawkins was real. The town was cursed. There were a handful of people that would never make it out no matter how hard they tried. Maybe Cheryl was just destined to be one of those unlucky few. Heather was good. She didn’t have any deep, dark secrets like so many other people in Hawkins. Chery shook her head and turned on her radio with a huff and a jab of her finger.

The lights were still on when she pulled into the driveway. Her father had waited up for her. He was in his office, his glasses resting on the tip of his nose as he looked over notes on a yellow notepad. He looked up when he heard Cheryl’s footsteps against the wooden floors, smiling at her. 

“Hey there, pumpkin,” he checked his watch. “You just getting home from work?” Lee Burns was an attractive, middle aged guy. He was just about to push forty, didn’t have a grey hair on his head and went on an hour long jog before work every morning. He was well liked in Hawkins; a successful lawyer whose clients included the town’s mayor and Chet Baker. He and Larry Kline often held fundraisers throughout the year and Lee sometimes offered his legal expertise up for pro bono work. Cheryl adored him. 

Cheryl leaned in the doorway, crossing her arms and shaking her head. “I got off a few hours ago. I was hanging out with Heather and then we went to the arcade to see Teddi,” she leaned back just a little, trying to find any sign of her step mother. “Is Stacey asleep?” 

“Bath,” Lee said simply, setting his notes down and spinning his chair to face his daughter. He removed his glasses, tucking them in the front pocket of his button up shirt. “Teddi…I don’t think I know her, do I?” 

“She’s new…I mean, she moved here last year, but I just started hanging out with her.” as busy as Lee could be, he’d always tried his hardest to keep up with Cheryl’s social life. She didn’t really envy him. Sometimes she could barely keep track. 

Lee smiled. “Oh, well, that’s great, pumpkin. You can always use new friends, right?” Cheryl let out a snort. Lee ignored it. “And, if she’s any different from Carol and Tommy I like her already.”

“Yeah, they’re, like, from totally different planets, daddy.”

“Good…hey, you should be heading to bed, huh? Big day tomorrow. Nervous for your first day?” Lee would never have shown that he was disappointed that Cheryl had decided to go into the world of retail rather than going off to a prestigious school and really, truly making something of herself. But Cheryl knew that he was disappointed. It always sent a twinge of guilt through her stomach. 

She only shook her head, pushing those thoughts away. “No.”

“That’s my girl,” he stood, patting her on the shoulder. “The Burns aren’t afraid of anything, right?” Cheryl smiled thinly and nodded. Lee had been saying that to her for as long as she could remember. Being a Burns meant you were never afraid and that you never showed any signs of weakness. People only took advantage of weakness. “Goodnight, pumpkin,” he kissed the top of her head. “Can’t wait to hear all about the new job tomorrow.” 

“Night, daddy.” Cheryl mumbled, moving aside to let Lee pass her and head upstairs. She reached up, pulling the red, velvet scrunchie from her hair before she went to her own bedroom. She shook her hair, running her hands through it a few times in an attempt to make it look presentable. 

She flicked the light on, her eyes immediately landing on the window that looked down onto her street. She thought back to that afternoon; Eddie watching her from his van. She decided not to close her curtains as she changed into her pajamas and got ready for bed. 

She slid into bed, wondering if he’d ever watched her before. Was this just some new curiosity that started because Teddi had told him about Cheryl? Did he think about her the way she thought about him? Cheryl hugged her pillow close, letting out a heavy sigh and closing her eyes. She pictured Eddie; his lips on her neck and those stupid rings of his digging into the bare skin of her hips…

Cheryl opened her eyes. Her jaw clenched. She turned onto her other side with another huff, screwing her eyes shut. Eddie’s rings glinted in the moonlight, his hand wrapped around her throat. Cheryl’s thighs clenched together, her hand slowly running down her stomach.

“No,” she said through gritted teeth. “No, no, no.” she muttered, her hand clenching into a fist. She turned onto her back, tossing her hands on top of her covers and glaring up at her ceiling. Maybe Heather would get her wish after all. Maybe Cheryl would bite the bullet and ask Eddie out so she could get this stupid crush out of her mind and move on with her life. 

Maybe then she’d finally be able to have a peaceful night's sleep for the first time in months. 

[morfanerina]

Lost and Found (and Lost again)

Six-eared Macaque was always a wanderer, never managing to quite keep to one place. There was too much to see from what he could hear and staying for too long kept him antsy. He needed to move, as the wind from which he was born did. Then he meets a little Stone Monkey. –.----.-- A life when Macaque becomes the main caretaker of a stubborn stone born Monkey. From their first meeting to the beginning of the Journey to the West.

CW: Some blood and (not really descriptive but to be safe) gore, Animal Death.

Chapter 1 of 3

Chapter 2/Chapter 3

Also on AO3

Macaque sighed, ears fluttering while he tried to discern if there was any danger around. He could hear a monkey tribe nearby, the aura of yaoguai faint but already present even as far away as he was. He played with the idea of asking the yaoguai for shelter, they were probably even monkeys considering the area, but dismissed the idea. Rarely were kingdoms this isolated kind to travelers like him. The normal monkey tribes, however, usually didn’t care, even if they were wary, they tended to just stare at the intruder, maybe even greet him, so they were always good to bunk down. Also, wild monkeys always knew where the best fruit was.

He was surprised to notice they weren’t quite normal monkeys. A bit more intelligence in their eyes while studying him, though not to an yaoguai level. Maybe. 

Seemed FlowerFruit Mountain was as special as the rumors said.

The spiritual monkey wondered if the rising risk of being attacked was worth staying in a place with food and fresh water in abundance, as he passed by a group who went silent and was staring at him going through.

His stomach growled, a couple of the closest monkeys turning to stare at him.

Yeah, he needed to refuel. He just had to pay a bit more attention than usual. No problem.

Just as he decided that, a small hand tugged at his fur and he did his best to hide his flinch before looking down to his side to see a small monkey, with gold fur and golden eyes, staring curiously, and fearlessly, up at him.

Bending down to look closer at the cub, his ears fluttered trying to catch any suspicious sounds around besides the movement of leaves and bird calls, and he saw as the little monkey’s eyes widened in delight. Not the usual reaction Macaque got when anyone noticed his ears, but he wasn’t going to complain about it.

The cub chirped and Macaque blinked, taking a moment to think about what the cub said. His monkey speak was a bit rusty but he eventually picked the cub at a distance, arms outstretched and leaving the cub dangling awkwardly. He picked up a snort from his until then unnoticed audience. 

There goes the extra attention to his surroundings. 

The little monkey gave him an unimpressed grunt and then tried to reach his ears “Yeah, not going to let you reach them kid,” he said, and the audience started to mutter around. The kid looked at him with a squint and he awkwardly tried to use his, admittedly very rusty, monkey dialect. 

The cub wasn’t the only one snickering in response to his attempt which, ok, was just rude. Then the kid unexpectedly twisted and fell with a disgruntled huff, a pouting look thrown to someone behind Macaque. Quickly he turned, expecting to have to deal with a protective member of the tribe ready to (attempt to) pummel him to the ground. Instead, an elderly gibbon approached, a couple handfuls of monkeys scattered near the closest trees but far enough to immediately hide if they needed to, leaning forwards to watch the interaction. He honestly couldn’t tell which were yaoguai and which were just normal monkeys.

The gibbon cooed at the cub next to him and the kid huffed. Instead of obeying the older primate, the cub plastered himself to his leg, refusing to go to her side.

Well then. This was happening.

Instead of starting to accuse him of something, the gibbon didn’t look surprised and looked at him, dark eyes studying the six ears he was named after. He tried to look as benign as he could. He really didn’t want to get attacked by overprotective monkeys.

“Who are you?” Macaque blinked. That. Was Chinese, accented and a bit old fashioned, but still recognizable. He introduced himself, affirming his interest in just passing through and to rest, if possible. Emboldened by the non-aggressiveness towards herself and the cub, the gibbon pressed her questions, relaxing as he answered glibly. 

As the cub started to yawn and the audience dispersed, the gibbon eventually seemed satisfied with her questioning and invited him to share some fruit. This reminded his stomach that he was starving and the growl actually startled the sleepy little monkey leaning on his leg, who looked up at him in disgruntlement.

Chuckling, the old gibbon finally approached the two and picked the golden cub, who immediately clung sleepily to her back. With a gesture to follow her, she started to walk. Macaque followed her to a mango tree that she climbed nimbly, throwing a couple of them to him still on the ground.

“I can climb,” he muttered and then scarfed down the mangoes in such a speed he almost choked. The gibbon snorted, somehow having heard him, and turned her attention to the cub, cajoling the child into eating the fruit before he fell asleep. With more energy in his body, Macaque climbed next to the gibbon and tried to not to flinch as the cub immediately turned his attention to him. With another snort, the six eared macaque suddenly had a lap full with a bemused young monkey, and a half peeled mango in his hand. The gibbon’s lips twitched and then she went to pick more fruit, gesturing to both of them to stay put.

Golden eyes looked up into yellow ones “Guess I’ll be feeding you now,” the older monkey said, bemusedly.

When the gibbon returned with a cloth full of different fruits, she looked unimpressed at the two monkeys as Macaque was grumbling and straining to keep the cub at arms length so as to stop him from reaching his ears. She huffed and they both looked at her with wide, startled eyes, the mango’s pulp somewhere between Macaque’s and the cub’s fur. She offered the fruits she had gathered in a cloth, the child squealing in delight at the peaches he could glance at, immediately forgetting about the ears again. 

Macaque did not have the privilege of forgetting his namesake and winced at the noise, releasing the cub to rub his pained ears. He barely had time to consider if maybe he could find another tree before he was being tugged again by the child, who offered him a couple of peaches. He muttered a thanks and settled, the cub deciding to snuggle on his fur for his meal, and he nibbled at the biggest peach, feeling awkward by being observed by the gibbon, who seemed content to nibble on mango. 

“So, your cub is energetic,” Macaque commented, still feeling the stickiness from the mango juices he had attempted to get the child to eat clumping parts of his fur. As if his fur wasn’t in need of a good cleaning before this. “Unusual to let them get close to strangers.”

“I’m too old for a cub. That’s Stone Monkey,” she added and he blinked. A name? For a cub? Stone Monkey? At his surprised look she nodded “Born from the FlowerFruit Mountain’s own stone egg.”

Macaque could only look down at the sleepy cub in surprise “Ah,” he uttered, and tentatively used his own magic to check what he could now guess from that story. He was careful to not manifest any actual shadows, even though the dim light would hide them, and he could feel that the little monkey’s aura wasn’t yaoguai or really any of the animals but other . 

A spiritual monkey. Like himself.

The old gibbon huffed and he turned his attention to her “He’s like you yes, Six-ear,”

We are the only ones around Six-Ears.

“That why you didn’t stop him from getting close?”

“Oh no, I only noticed after you picked him up, I thought he had been playing in the stream with the rest of the cubs,” she said, sighing in exasperation. With that, they moved onto other casual topics, Macaque kindly not mentioning the suspicious mutterings of the monkey yaoguai surrounding the area around him (getting worse ever since he had climbed the tree), just as she did not mention that she knew he knew about them. Allowing him to have the cub pressed against him was both a sign of trust and protection against more territorial beings after all.

-:::-:::-:::-

Macaque should have expected to be put into babysitting duty the next morning. The gibbon, introducing herself as a yaoguai who just preferred being alongside the still organized but wilder monkeys of this mountain, had asked him for the favor in return of helping mend his cape and getting more traveling supplies. 

“Mostly dried fruit,” she admitted when he asked what she could offer him “Maybe a few dried nuts with luck,” she then explained she asked because she had to deal with political stuff from the yaoguai side due to being one of the elders of one of the factions. With Stone Monkey’s attachment to him maybe he wouldn’t wander off into trouble. Or, hopefully, not as much trouble.

That it also assured his own safety against the more aggressive and suspicious yaoguai and monkeys during his stay was strongly implied in the conversation. Seemed the mountain wasn’t as peaceful as it looked and tensions were climbing between several factions, and a stranger around wasn’t going to help things. 

It annoyed him that she was treating him like he wasn’t fully capable of killing most, if not all, of the beings in this mountain, but he couldn’t deny being grateful for the chance of rest he was being offered with the job. 

Macaque agreed to be a babysitter for the day.

So he was dragged by Stone Monkey to a more isolated stream once the other realized what a mess his fur was, chirping he was going to help him groom. Unsurprisingly, the cub got distracted by a couple of other monkeys nearby, who gave curious looks to Macaque but didn’t approach him. Taking advantage of the alone time, he took out his travel pants and quickly washed the worst of the grime, wincing as a couple of still not healed wounds stung. The clothes and dark fur hid the worst of them but the largest ones in his right calf, from not managing to dodge a hunter fast enough, still ached and stung. Maybe he would have enough time to let the worst of them heal during his stay. At least neither opened yet.

The cub returned to his side soon with a couple of fruits in his hands, cooing happily, his fur wet and clean. A swift glance showed the other monkeys had dispersed and they were alone. He tried to hear around and, though the stream muffled some other noises, he should have been able to hear other monkeys nearby rustling the leaves and picking up fruit. Odd…

Soon, they were both drying their fur next to the water, Macaque wincing at the occasional pull at his fur as Stone Monkey groomed him to the best of his abilities, which were debatable however not surprising for his age.

Macaque heard a twig snap nearby and swiveled his head in that direction, alert. The cub stopped grooming at the movement and moved to his side, either in curiosity or recognizing the body language. 

Another snap. And a low growl from a predator on the other side of the stream.

Quickly, he picked the child up and moved, just in time to dodge the pounce from one of the biggest tigers he had seen. Cursing his inattentiveness, he secured the hold on his charge and ran up the stream, recognizing that dragging the tiger near the tribe would not be the best idea, not when he did not know if there were any fighters around or just the more vulnerable at this time of the day. 

His wounds smarted from his movements and he cursed again, realizing he couldn’t outrun the probably mystic infused tiger for long, not if he was carrying the child too while in the sun. The trees weren’t dense enough where he was for the shadows he needed so he took a chance and slipped deeper into the treeline, hoping to find a denser patch of shadows.

Instead, he found a cave.

‘Perfect.’

Macaque entered just enough to blend into the shadows and turned to the entrance, unsurprised to see the tiger prowling slowly in his direction. The cub didn’t huff in fear as he suspected most others would in his situation and he resisted the urge to check on him, though the older monkey did adjust the hold so he wasn’t gripping the cub as tight, still ready to immediately tighten the hold the moment the other tried to squirm out of his hold.

The older monkey had two choices: flight through the shadows or fight. Logically, flight would be the safer option, he had no real stakes to whatever would happen if he let the tiger roam so near the troupe’s nests. His pride was not that logical however, so he moved deeper into the shadows and waited. Stone Monkey seemed eerily still, though when the tiger was at the cave’s entrance ready to leap, he gripped the darker fur tighter and shoved his face on the other’s neck, not managing to stop his shivers.

The tiger didn’t have a chance.

Macaque melted in the shadow with his charge, as shadowy tendrils lashed at the tiger mid-leap, dragging the thrashing animal deeper. Both monkeys popped up at the entrance of the cave and the older one quickly stepped back into the sun, staring blankly as the shadows ripped the tiger apart. Belatedly, he realized the cub didn’t have his face hidden in his fur anymore and a quick glance confirmed Stone Monkey was staring wide eyed at the scene, ears folded down on his skull even as the agonized yowls tapered off.

The dark monkey walked farther from the cave, barely dodging a shadow trying to grip onto his leg. Both looked warily as the writhing mass of shadows seemed to expand before collapsing from the sun exposure into normal shadows, a torn apart carcass the only hint of what happened right at the entrance of the cave.

Maybe he needed more practice controlling the shadows before repeating the act.

A coo distracted him from the what ifs and the smaller mystical monkey adjusted himself into sitting at the older’s shoulder, a simple question that made him nod stiffly, recognizing that having shown his powers to the cub he wouldn’t have much of a chance to pretend to be harmless to the rest of the tribe if he did not collaborate.

Stone Monkey hummed before asking “Would you teach me?”

Macaque, who had been expecting something more along screeches or fearful silence after admitting he had been the one to summon the shadows, took a moment to think about the cub. More specifically, about the cub’s aura. “No,” he decided, and continued before the inevitable complaints, hoping he was saying it correctly in the monkey’s language “Your aura is too bright, like the sun. The shadows would devour you if you tried to do what I did.”

The child huffed and tugged at one of his ears, making Macaque hiss, but didn’t whine against the decision. For now. “We should go back,” the golden cub said, glancing at the sun’s position “Should we take the tiger?” even a child knew they could make materials out of the carcass, even if they did not eat the flesh.

Macaque looked at the scene and then felt with his magic, unsurprised to find it to be a trap with ravenous shadows ready to do an encore performance “Maybe it’s best to leave it be. For a few days.” a beat of silence and he corrected himself  “Weeks.” a tendril from deeper in the cave picked what was once a powerful and deadly paw and threw it at them. It plopped right in front of them with a bloody squelch “Better to make a sign of warning for the next year maybe.”

The child eeked in agreement, his grip on Macaque’s fur tightening as he looked rapidly between the cave and the paw.

Both monkeys kept their place for a few minutes before Macaque finally turned his back to his accidental semi-permanent death trap and walked back to the stream, the cub relaxing the farther away from the cave they were. Despite the opportunity, no more tugs on his ears were made, which worried Macaque a bit. Maybe the kid was actually scared of him…

The Six-eared Macaque changed course to the old gibbon’s tree, ignoring the burn of the calf injury. It was lunch time anyway.

-:::-:::-

The gibbon didn’t return to the tree or the nests around yet. The rest of the troupe didn’t seem surprised by it and Stone Monkey was still oddly quiet, choosing to not join the other cubs in playing but deciding to drag Macaque to other fruit trees, farther away from the nests. The older monkey wondered if it was to get him away from the troupe for their safety.

Eventually, they arrived at what seemed to be the younger one’s destination and he pointed at a specific tree. An old peach tree that blended suspiciously well in between the rest. The kid didn’t say anything at the older’s questioning glance and sat down under its shadow. When Macaque sat next to him, the cub tugged on his leg. His right leg specifically, that he then yanked up and prodded at the slightly opened wounds with enough strength to hurt. Macaque hissed and tugged his leg out of the others’ grasp, a growl ready on his throat when the cub whined in worry, looking at the blood on his finger.

Macaque frowned and then it clicked. He was bleeding. He was bleeding enough the child had noticed even with his pants covering his legs and he had been in the middle of an unknown troupe, without any safe member nearby. Any of the elements, including any yaoguai hidden, could have tried to take advantage of his wounds to attack and stir up the rest to do it too. Stone Monkey took him farther away for his safety, before any other could truly take notice of the perceived weakness.

A perceptive one, wasn’t he?

“I’m fine,” he assured the cub “I just need to stop a bit, let it start healing.” at the unconvinced look the other monkey gave him, he added, amused “I won’t move until you say I can.”

The choice of that peach tree made sense when Stone Monkey forced him to stay there, only allowing enough movement to move up to the lower branches when night fell. They feasted on the easily accessible fruit. When sleeping, he clung to him, refusing to let go so he could move around without him knowing. When Macaque woke up, it was to a smug golden monkey prodding the partially healed injuries. Far more than it was supposed to be.

Macaque gave a suspicious look at the cub who just looked even more smug, biting down on another peach.

-:::-:::-

The old gibbon wasn’t there the next day again, though his cloak was mended and folded on top of ‘her’ tree. With his calf no longer bleeding or  smarting as much, the cub happily dragged him to another stream, this one full of cubs and a few supervising adults, to whom he stiffly nodded when approaching. One of them, obviously a yaoguai from wearing a gray cloak, offered the place next to her for him to sit. He barely hesitated before accepting, the cub immediately running to his peers once he saw his babysitter going to the other adults.

The yaoguai made some small talk, carefully probing for information that he skillfully avoided giving. She seemed satisfied to know he was just a traveler that got babysitting duty for a couple of favors, even if he couldn’t say from which faction the yaoguai had asked the favor was.Macaque suspected she only saw a relatively normal teen yaoguai accidentally getting into something bigger than him.

Let her think that.

The weather took a turn to the worst, the sun disappearing as clouds ran in. The monkeys started to disperse as the wind started to pick up, the other yaoguai retiring with a couple other monkeys and a chirping cub. His own charge pouted as he was left alone in the stream, but the first rumble of thunder made him jump out of it and run to Macaque, hiding under his newly mended cloak.

Macaque hid his laugh, unsuccessfully if the annoyed kick at his leg was to go by.

Quickly they found an empty cave to hide in, just as the storm started to rage, thunder making the cub shudder. Macaque hummed, glamouring his ears in an attempt to muffle the sound from the thunder, and adjusted Stone Monkey so he was swaddled in the cloak. 

As time passed, seeing no sign of the storm lifting, both monkeys made themselves comfortable, the cub fighting to be freed from the cloak now that he got more used to the thunder. Macaque let him, seeing the cave wasn’t deep, deciding to enjoy his own corner while the kid explored.

The growing darkness as the day passed made him a bit nervous, remembering the accidental shadow trap he had created the previous day.

He hoped no monkeys tried to enter that cave.

As Macaque distractedly thought about his shadow powers, Stone Monkey poked around the cave, just seeing a bit of moss at the back and a few crawleys on the ground. No snakes, at least he thought so until he saw something moving nearby. As lightning flashed, the cub realized that it was too sinewy and shadowy to be a snake. Hesitating, he glanced at his babysitter. Seeing him deep in thought, the small monkey decided to poke the shadowy tendril with his tail.

The shadow stopped. Then poked him back.

Well, it was more entertaining than the rock or the lizard at the back so he decided to sit down near it and play with it.

And that was how Macaque found the cub after he realized he hadn’t been bothered for the last couple of hours. Playing with an out of control shadow.

Macaque didn’t think he was ever as fast as he was when he yanked the cub away from the shadow, trying to put the shadow back into its own dimension. For a tendril with no face, it managed to display how unimpressed it felt at his attempts remarkably well. “Well. Screw you,” he snarled to it, and got closer to the cave opening, their only source of light, dragging the struggling cub with him “And what were you doing ? Remember the tiger?” he growled to the cub, who froze, startled. Not letting the cub answer, he continued “Didn’t I tell you would be taken apart by them?” Stone Monkey just looked at him, behind him , trembling.

Macaque heard the whispers and cursed, letting the cub fall to the ground and taking a few steps back into the cave. He closed his eyes and focused, this time taking charge of the shadows that had popped around him and forcing them in . Only one resisted and he snarled, until he forced it to dissipate until he summoned it again. 

Calmer now, he opened his eyes and immediately locked onto the cub, whose eyes almost glowed as he warily stared at him. He was huddled near the entrance, tail gripping his leg in a self soothing gesture. Macaque sighed and stepped closer, stopping immediately when the cub hissed. He sat down instead “Stone Monkey?” he called lowly, making sure his voice was gentle. The cub didn’t say anything, but he could see him getting less tense “I’m sorry for scaring you.” he said, drooping his shoulders and making sure his body language was as sorrowful as he could make it “I was just worried.”

“... You were scary,” the cub said in the silence. “Shadows appeared behind you as you yelled,” there was a beat of hesitation before he continued “Those were not nice shadows.”

“I don’t think most shadows are nice,” Macaque remarked “But. It was an accident. None of them were supposed to be here,” my lack of control could have hurt us “I was just scared you could have been hurt. Like the tiger.”

Stone Monkey stopped huddling, his tail releasing his grip, even as he gave the older monkey a look as if the other was being stupid “You would have noticed if I was hurt like the tiger,”

And maybe he deserved that look “I panicked,” Macaque said sheepishly.

“I was playing with the shadow. I was being careful.” Macaque didn’t hide his doubtful expression “You would have got me! You were close!” the cub insisted and Macaque wasn’t sure whether to be flattered that the cub thought him as a protector or wary of the attachment. He was only here temporarily after all.

The younger monkey shuddered, just as the wind picked up. The temperature had dropped with the shadows, and the storm outside, though less severe now, made the cave humid and cold “Can I get closer? For warmth?” Macaque asked, and he could tell the cub was hesitant from the way his eyes looked behind the older monkey. After another gust of wind however, he acquiesced, immediately burrowing himself as much as he could in the black fur. Macaque adjusted the cloak to cover both of them better. 

They didn’t return to the nests that night either.

-:::-:::-

Macaque was fairly certain the gibbon would have thought he had kidnapped the cub at that point. Instead, when they got to the tree, a gray yaoguai gibbon, just old enough to be considered a very young adult, wearing light armor, was waiting for them. 

“Six ears,” the yaoguai greeted severely. Then he turned to the cub next to him and smiled “Stone Monkey.” The cub seemed startled by the smile, fur puffing, before remembering that a smile in yaoguai culture wasn’t a threat. He hid behind Macaque’s cloak instead. The monkey blinked, surprised by the action. He looked at Macaque, who shrugged and then gestured for him to state his business.

“I come with the promised supplies from the elder.” Macaque straightened, a chill in his spine. The yaoguai did have a cloth bag dangled in a branch near them, within easy access “Several packets of dried fruit and a container of plum wine.” his confusion must have been obvious as the other continued, with a brief, amused smile “For the days life is a headache.” the smile withered then, and the gray gibbon looked at the confused cub “I am afraid she could not come today… or ever again. Hunters got to her.” he softened “I am sorry, Stone Monkey.”

Macaque closed his eyes. The death of the gibbon elder meant Stone Monkey would either have to live by himself in the troupe or his adoption by one of the yaoguai ‘He’s going to be fine’ he tried to assure himself, already guessing by the presence of the other yaoguai that it was probably the second option ‘He’s not fragile’

Spiritual monkeys live by attachments. Remember that Six-eared Macaque. If we have no attachment to this world, we cease to live.

He tried to ignore the memory. 

The cub was disturbingly silent in his cries, but the shudders against his legs didn’t lie. Stone Monkey understood what had happened. Macaque scooped him in his arms, saying nothing but allowing the other to hide his face and cry on his neck. The other yaoguai looked with faint interest at the interaction.

The stress from the day before, along with the emotional shock from the gibbon’s passing was enough to tire the cub out fast. The yaoguai observed them and then nodded in understanding when Macaque made to give the sleeping cub to him.

Cradling the cub awkwardly, the yaoguai whispered “Are you leaving now?” Unsurprised by the stiff nod, he gestured with his head to the supplies, observing the darker monkey pick it up and then turn back, eyes locked on the cub, still sniffling even in his sleep “You may wait until he awakens again,” the yaoguai offered.

 Macaque considered it for a moment “It was always temporary,” he muttered “It would be worse to go when he can follow.” The other looked like he wanted to disagree but stayed silent. The cub sniffled in his sleep again and adjusted himself, but the awkward hold almost made him fall. The other yaoguai looked alarmed and Macaque rolled his eyes and carefully adjusted the hold, brushing his hand for the last time on the gold fur of the Stone born monkey’s head.

Many that are born like us become mortal as they grow, until a point where it was as if they were never spiritual monkeys at all. These are fools, Macaque, and you should never get attached to any who isn’t immortal already, for you will lose them .

Macaque walked away, under the heavy, curious stares of the troupe, saying nothing else to anyone in the mountain.