#and not quite knowing when they've gone too far and if there's still some of their former self left or not

[canisalbus]

AU where there is some sort of zombie-like (maybe something like a rabid vampirism?)

Where one of the boys is bit/infected and desperately wants the other to join them, while also wanting to resist?

.

#oh that sounds so sad #I feel like in tragic scenarios like this Machete is always destined to be the weaker link #simply because the thought of Vasco unraveling and losing his mind legimately upsets me #like if Machete has rough time that's typical and he's used to it #but if they lose Vasco then they're both doomed #you know #I've always been really sensitive to zombie stories that deal with the concept of your loved one getting infected #and not quite knowing when they've gone too far and if there's still some of their former self left or not #they never end well but the idea of a person delusionally clinging to the hope of them both making it just #a trope that cuts deep instantly #anonymous #answered #now that I'm thinking about it this probably affects me so much because I have a massive fear of dementia #it runs in my family and I've seen what it can do to a person's psyche and personality and it scares me to death

[celluloidbroomcloset]

A good bit has been made of Ed saying that "last night was a mistake" and I get the sense that a lot of people are interpreting things through a lens that he means they shouldn't have slept together, they should have waited, Stede was pushing things too far too fast, etc. So I want to go into some detail on why I don't agree with that, and what I think is happening in the aftermath of Calypso's Birthday, as well as in the love scene itself.

(This is kinda long, because I am not witty and cannot be brief. These are just my thoughts, so of course I'm not trying to tell anyone how to understand what happens in these scenes.)

Them having sex and what happens after is very much related to the things that they've both gone through, and especially Ed's fears and trauma after his depressive spiral. When we first meet Ed in Season 1, he's already borderline suicidal. Stede gives him a new view of life by showing him things that he's never seen before, and emotions he's never experienced before. He falls in love and anchors himself to Stede. Then his anchor breaks and lets him float off. He's alone and heartbroken and quite literally goes insane with grief and self-loathing (spurred on by Izzy) on a ship filled with people and things that keep reminding him of how he wasn't enough.

In Season 2, he knows that if he goes back to being Blackbeard, again, after everything, he might very well never be able to come back. He's still terrified of Stede abandoning him, and I think the fact that he did consent to the sex, that he did want to have sex, that he did feel loved and desired and happy, is a huge part of that. He says it was a mistake because he wanted it so much and got exactly what he wanted and is afraid that, again, he's going to lose the person who made him feel like he was enough. So he's doing exactly what Stede says he's doing - panicking and trying to run this time, so that he's not the one who gets hurt again. That's not the same as truly regretting the night before; it actually says that them sleeping together meant so much that it's frightened him because now he stands to lose even more. (If losing Stede once ripped him apart, after they had just barely kissed and admitted they care for each other, what would losing Stede now do to him?)

Should they have waited? Doesn't really matter. They didn't. Are they overwhelmed with emotion? Well, yeah. There have been other posts floating around discussing the relationship between sex and death and the concept of funeral sex, which are quite accurate IMO.

But...I'd say the moment when Stede first grabs Ed at the door is the "overwhelmed with emotion" part. Remember that Stede has killed before, accidentally, and is absolutely wracked with guilt by it. The guilt is also associated with Ed and with his masculinity/sexuality - "you defile beautiful things" - and Ned's words earlier poked those wounds. The last thing that Ed said to Stede before he killed Ned was not to do it because "you can't come back from that." So Stede does what he did before - he runs and hides. But he's not alone anymore. Ed shows up. He's not angry, he's not rejecting Stede or lecturing Stede; nothing has fundamentally changed in their relationship because Stede killed Ned. He's there to say, "Hey, it's OK, it's hard, I know, I've been there." Stede is overwhelmed with emotion - guilt at what he's done and all its associations with his past, fear that he's ruined something in his relationship (defiled a beautiful thing), uncertainty about what this means about him as a person. And there's Ed, standing there and saying "Are you OK?" Nothing has been defiled.

It's not Ed who crosses the threshold - maybe Stede needs his space and really doesn't need his sympathy right now, so he waits there and doesn't invade the space - but Stede who grabs him and drags him across. That's the impulsive moment, not the sex. Ed is surprised by it, as we can see on his face, and Stede is in pain and almost crying. He seems incapable of speech at that moment, which says a lot about his state of mind since this is a man who cannot shut up. He's not behaving rationally or thinking things through deliberately; he's coming apart and Ed's there and Ed holds him together.

Now, the next cut could've been to Stede throwing Ed down on the bed or kissing him aggressively (as, indeed, has happened in plenty of shows and films with these kinds of scenes). But that's not what happens. The next cut is to the end of the impulsive moment, Stede backing Ed up against the wall. Then there's a pause. Both of them are recalibrating. Stede in fact keeps his distance (wish we could actually see their expressions up close), and he waits. He's done something he likely shouldn't have in grabbing Ed; he's stopping himself from doing anything else he shouldn't. He's making a choice and it's an important one, just like when he stopped the kiss when Ed told him to, when he stopped saying "I love you" because Ed couldn't hear it, or when he asked if it was OK to hold Ed's hand. He didn't do anything wrong in being impulsive, and he's waiting for his partner to help him know what to do next.

Could Ed say no at that point? Yes, absolutely, and we know from the moonlight scene that Stede would not try to go farther. Would Ed say no at that point, with the knowledge of how much this man needs him? Yes, I think he would. I don't think this is a case of Ed going "well, he needs this, so I'll sleep with him." That interpretation I think undermines Ed's autonomy and misunderstands his character - he's not going to do something that he doesn't want to, not even for Stede, and he's not going to damage their relationship by having their first time be a result of pity or sympathy. It's going to be about mutual desire, or it's not going to happen at all.

That pause is where they look at each other (again, wish we could see expressions better) and Ed nods. And even then, when Stede leans in to kiss him, it's not Stede who increases the intensity. I think we could even read this as Stede not consciously planning for the kiss to lead to sex. It's Ed who grabs Stede, pulls him up against him, lets his body support Stede's, who's practically collapsing. It's Ed who snatches Stede's waist and wraps his arm around his shoulders and caresses his neck.

I think it's really important that Ed is the one who ups the intensity. His actions are pretty much the definition of enthusiastic consent. That's needed for the scene, just like all the other scenes where Stede stops when Ed tells him to. It's Ed who wanted to take it slow and so now his choice to go ahead is necessary. There's no indication that this is rushed or only a result of passion and pain.

The next scene, Stede is closing the curtains, and he's shirtless, but Ed is still mostly dressed (and no, that is not the face of a man having second thoughts or being pressured into sex. That's the face of a man who's so in love he can't see anything but fireworks). What's happening is very deliberate on both their parts, and the entire scene is a culmination of their desires and - very importantly - their love for each other. It's not Stede needing comfort or validation and Ed rewarding him with sex. It's them both needing, wanting, and loving each other.

It's really tempting to make this all more angst-y than it is, especially with Ed's later "last night was a mistake!" But once more, this silly gay pirate show gets at something that a lot of less silly films and TV shows don't - that human relationships are messy and complex, and messiness and complexity are not inherently Problematic. Just human.

Tl;dr: seems like neither of them regretted having sex, and not just because it was definitely good sex.

#ofmd season 2 #ofmd s2 #ofmd spoilers #ofmd meta #stede bonnet #ed teach #blackbonnet #gentlebeard #yes i have feelings about the silly gay pirate show #and must write essays about them #our flag means death

[save-the-villainous-cat]

Okay so how about a delirious or gravely injured hero / villain who starts telling the other details about their secret identity because they’re so sure they’re not going to make it while the other is like don’t even think about dying on me ?

"Look," the villain hissed. They pressed their hand into the wound the supervillain had stabbed into them. Flesh had ripped open and blood had been mercilessly dropping to the ground for the last few minutes. It was fair to say that the hero had...overdone it. The villain knew they could forget their own strength every now and then but they hadn't expected them to kill the supervillain that brutally. "I am dying."

The villain leaned their head back but the headache would not die. They dared to peek at the supervillain's body and somehow allowed themselves to relax. Years of anger and anxiety were gone now. Some peace was a good thing. Ignoring the tears and the pain, their eyes found the hero.

"Don't be ridiculous," the hero said but still, the villain could hear their voice shake. Whenever the hero's wall which they had built around their heart crumbled like this, the villain felt some weird sense of accomplishment. Wasn't this their job? Changing the hero? Even if the villain wasn't a good person, was this a good deed?

"No," the villain said. They grabbed the hero's wrist. Their nemesis was panicking, staring at the villain's wound in shock. "I am dying, love."

The hero shook their head and the villain wasn't sure if the pain made them hallucinate the tears in the hero's eyes or if those were actually real. They had never seen the hero this emotional.

"My parents aren't buried in the city," the villain said. "But I wouldn't mind if you chose a cemetery here."

"No."

"I have a cat, also. You need to take care of her. She's only five months old. I found her on the streets a while ago." The villain's hand crawled up the hero's arm until they found their hand and squeezed. "God, I thought I'd have some more time."

They couldn't even stop the tears. Couldn't control anything. Their vision spun and they felt bad for forcing the hero to watch them die. It was a little selfish, wasn't it? But wasn't it also a human desire?

Not to die alone?

"I have a sister, too. She lives far away, though. Maybe you'll find her phone number in my apartment? Could you take care of that? I know it's a lot to ask..."

"Don't you dare. I didn't murder someone for you to die now. I didn't protect you all these months for you to..." The hero swallowed and wiped thick tears away. For a second, the villain seriously thought they were dead already. I didn't protect you... "You cannot die now. I won't let you. You're too important to me."

"It's fine, I..." The hero pulled out their phone and dialed 911 with shaky fingers. The villain's eyes widened but they were too weak to protest. The hero tried to breathe but it was clear that it was quite troubling for them to take normal breaths. They were fighting just as much as the villain.

The villain had given up already, though.

"Yes, hello. I would like to report a murder. I killed someone. I also need an ambulance...I injured someone else, too," the hero said. "Locate my position."

They hung up.

"Fuck, what are you...?" The villain's heart was beating faster than ever. They couldn't believe what the hero had just told the authorities. Confessing a murder like this...asking for an ambulance? The villain wouldn't make it in time and the hero would go to jail either way.

This couldn't be happening. The villain had wanted them to live a quiet life, not dying young in prison. The amount of villain's the hero had already sent to jail was impressive and if the hero joined them, they wouldn't survive the first night.

The villain moaned when they moved. Pain was taking over and they weren't sure if they wanted to throw up or pass out.

"They won't put you in jail when you're injured like this. Especially not when I am the one who's responsible. They've been hunting you for quite a while now but in this case I am the criminal. This buys you time and they can actually save you at the hospital." The hero took in a greedy breath and closed their eyes. More tears.

"You're insane, you're-" The hero took their hand.

"It's the only way to save you. Your blood type is A+, right?" Perhaps? The villain wanted to throw up. This wasn't happening, the hero hadn't just pulled their Go to Jail Card intentionally.

"I think so?" The villain started to sweat and suddenly, it felt as if the world wanted to push them into the afterlife. They refused to die, now that the hero had confessed to a crime. But they feared they had no control over that either.

"Mine is A-, so I can donate. I'll try to stay on the ambulance, if they let me." The hero seemed to be back in their cold self. Always calculating, always thinking. Their poor hero. Always fighting.

"You'll go to prison," the villain whispered.

"And I will find a way to crawl back to you," the hero said. "I always will."

#you always got my fav requests #writing snippet #heroes and villains #heroxvillain prompt #heroxvillain snippet #hero #villain #request #an answer for an ask #hero x villain #heroxvillain

[hmshermitcraft]

Everyone knows not to frighten etho. Even if it'd be really funny, it's just not worth it. When Etho gets startled or jumpscared or frightened, he pops outta existence a little bit. He's a bit of a phantom, not the sky rats but like literally, he's a ghost.

He's not very good at being dead, not like Cleo who had full control of being a zombie or Joe who has.....some control of the jopacity...jhostlyness or whatever it is that they've got going on. Etho sucks at it, and whenever he gets startled he pops out of sight. Fully invisible, completely intangible. And he can't control it at all! He just has to wait until his nervous system reorient itself.

Poor Joel doesn't know this. Double life stabilized everyone's wonkyness for the sake of the games. So scar didn't get birdbrain'd, Jimmy didn't get hypothermia (cause despite popular belief, most netherborn are quite cold blooded to cope with the hot environment), martyn didn't have a sudden urge for human meat, and Joel didn't become a phantom. Etho was also unable to disappear which was painful but otherwise nice.

So one day Joel gets the bright idea to sneak up on Etho and scare him shitless, because it's funny and Joel shows affection via pranks and annoyance. Poor Etho didn't know what hit him, one moment he's quietly pulling weeds in his garden, the next he's scared out of his mind and completely gone.

Luckily Etho had signs on hand so he can tell Joel how uncool that was and how annoying it's gonna be to wait to come back.

Joel, to his credit, does feel really bad and since Etho's unable to finish his gardening, Joel offers to do it for him. Which he does, which is hard work, so Etho offers him his spare room so he doesn't have to make the journey all the way back.

It's not that far but he gets really lonely when he's all ghostly and he wants company.

Joel doesn't take up too much of the bed. Etho's cold, without the warmth of the sun or his jacket he's freezing in his little purgatory. Joel wakes to a presence, something not quite there but heavy against his side. It's Etho, unsurprising, who's still cold and a little transparent but peaceful all cuddled up against him.

He rolls onto his side so he can pull Etho closer, allowing him to press his cold nose into the crook of his neck. He won't scare Etho anymore, he'll find another way to show his affection.

Probably.

-carrie

Really, it's disappointing that it actually distresses Etho, because it's the funniest reaction ever. Does Etho understand how much prank potential this has? How funny it is that he just poofs when he's scared? It's hilarious. The fact it feels terrible sucks.

What Joel found out surprisingly quickly is that Etho is a lot jumpier than he expects. Joel knocked on the door, for goodness sake! What else is he supposed to do?

So far, wrapping his arms around Etho and giving him a gentle kiss has worked best. Etho says the fact somebody is touching him helps. Hardly like Joel needs an excuse to get his hands on Etho more often, but he'll take it.

#hermitshipping #ask #etho tag #joel tag #smalletho #carrie anon #mod 🎀 #weekly theme: back from the dead

[utilitycaster]

I've gotten a couple replies of "and that's terrifying" on this post about the more stable members of Bells Hells, and, to be honest, hate that, so let's talk about it.

There's a couple reasons. The first that I still don't know who the fuck thought the Issylra half of the party split would be Team Levelheaded and not Team Abandonment Issues, because, well, it's the latter. The second is that there's been a near constant undercurrent from quite early in the campaign of "oh Orym...he's going to break...he's a powder keg" and while he's decidedly not a powder keg, we did get him finally breaking a bit, and suddenly everyone's like "HORRIFYING that the guy I kept claiming was uniquely angsty is now having a harder time with the party split than the other characters whose equally tragic backstories I've consistently ignored, diminished, and dismissed."

All three of the Bells Hells characters in Team Issylra have issues related to loneliness and being left behind, which is a common thread through the party, but notably, Fearne, FCG, and Chetney being more stable should not be surprising nor scary. Resilience isn't tied to whether or not you're somewhat chaotic, or have mechanically-induced loss of control, and that's what we're talking about here. The reason why Team Issylra is having a rough time of it - and specifically why Laudna and Orym are falling apart whereas Ashton is doing comparatively well - is because they've been constantly pretending things are okay. Chetney, meanwhile, genuinely does think the worst thing that happened to him fucking rules, and has the age and perspective and sheer survival instincts to pull through; FCG has, within the story, had to face some horrifying realizations about himself and so has some tools for this kind of situation; and Fearne is to be honest still learning that consequences are a thing that happens, but she has dealt with a few profound disappointments and is sitting with them - she openly admitted she's not terribly impressed by her parents.

On the other hand, I think Orym has worked through the earlier stages of grief, to be sure, but he's put a brave face on over it and tried to look at the bright side. Which isn't the worst idea, but it means when the things he's built that idea of a bright side upon - Keyleth's infallibility, his relationships within the Crown Keepers - are nowhere to be found, he doesn't have anything to take hold of. He adjusted to one devastating change by clinging to the constants, and now that many of the constants are gone too, he has no mechanism to process the change in their absence.

And this is Laudna's whole deal, right? I do in fact agree that her initial death was still the worst thing that's happened to her so far, but that doesn't mean she can't still be incredibly upset by major events. It's comforting to know you've survived worse, but it doesn't necessarily help you actually get through a slightly less terrible (but still pretty terrible) situation. She says she can't stop compartmentalizing or she'll cry - but like, she'd probably feel better if she'd just spent the second watch crying. Like Orym, Laudna's developed this idea that she can will things into being okay, and in the end, she can't. Leaning into the "Today SUCKS" attitude would, honestly, help her, and I'm hoping she does so.

Ashton meanwhile doesn't have healthy coping mechanisms, but they do have coping mechanisms that work in this situation (namely, drinking and hitting things). He also, more importantly, has no investment in pretending things are okay. Ashton thinks the world is full of utter bullshit that will fuck you over, and the point is to get through it, and sure, it's a very cynical mindset, but there's a reason why toxic positivity is, well, toxic.

As a sidebar, I also think that Ashton has, fascinatingly and despite their drunken talk with Laudna on the skyship, put their abandonment issues into perspective. Ashton is able to handle the current situation because, logically, they were teleported to a random location beyond their control and with no capacity to contact other people, so it's reasonable to assume the other half of the party is in the same position. No one abandoned anyone. To quote Ashton themself, actually, from episode 25, "Sometimes shit's just fucked up, and the only thing you can do because you didn't do anything fucking wrong, is get the fuck back up and do the exact same thing all over again knowing that there was nothing to learn." On the other hand, the fact that Milo saved Ashton makes that particular situation worse. If Ashton had been left to die in the street and a random uninvolved stranger picked him up? Then you can at least imagine the Nobodies had to leave, or couldn't pick them up for whatever reason, or even perished themselves. The fact that Milo was able to make this choice means the Nobodies also had the ability to make a choice, and the choice was to leave them behind, and that's what stings, and that's the unique loneliness, and that's why this situation isn't comparable.

So anyway, in summary, it's unsurprising the two people who have handled grief and tragedy by trying to quietly (in Orym's case) and not-so-quietly (in Laudna's) smooth it over are finding themselves completely unable to do so and barely holding together, whereas the people who allow themselves to be upset or, frankly, just go apeshit, are doing much better.

#critical role #critical role spoilers #bells hells #Ashton (and Deni$e) are honestly reminding me of the Yasha pit fight in C2 rn #like was that a healthy coping mechanism no but Yasha honestly did feel much better after it and her recovery trajectory went up from there #and ashton has the other dimension of like. he has chronic pain. it's unfair and serves no purpose. shit happens. #it's very they should invent a way out that isn't through but unfortunately they didn't so fuck it i'm smashing the wall #i mean barbarian rage as catharsis isn't a new idea by any stretch but. the thing about a reckless attack is it feels good as hell

[g-xix]

OKAY, GUYS - I HAVE ANOTHER SDMN-CENTRED FEMINIST RANT.

Okay, so, hopefully you all know TheBurntChip (Josh Larkin), and his lovely jovely gf Sabina:

Beautiful couple, seem happy together, no problems there.

One thing i think im seeing with the YouTubers' Girlfriends (let's call them YTer gf's, abbreviated) is that there's a certain trend in assets for which fans pick and choose to determine whether or not a YT gf is "per standard" and collectively liked.

For example, Faith and Talia have gone through shitloads of hate from fans because they actually speak their mind and are consistent with their own personal ethos within whatever content they produce and share online.

Like the whole Mia-sat-on-Ethan's-lap incident which resulted in Faith making a TikTok and speaking out on social media multiple times to call out the fact that yes - she's unhappy about it - and also the fact that it's a very valid thing to be unhappy over

Aaand this created a lot of backlash and hatred from Sidemen fans, because they don't like hearing anything that's inconsistent with what is a stereotypically immature male opinion, generally consistent with patriarchal societal roles... And this is shown through a lot of Talia and Faith's comment sections by the adolescent male SDMN fans

Hence the assumption can be made that Sidemen fans dislike YTer gf's that are too vocal about problems they've faced which aren't relevant to male audiences.

Thing is, there's obviously some YTer gf's that these fans really like, but...

Why do they like them so much???

Well, I think that both Sabina and Tennessee are two YTer gf's that can be used as examples of wamen that are completely adored by these adolescent male SDMN fans.

But their reasons for being so liked to much are so very contrasting.

Tennesse is loved because she's beautiful. We've been through this quite a bit when i went through the whole "I can't believe Danny would put his ex through that" pipeline following Locked In... But it's worth pointing out that (as far as I know), the toxic Fifa fanboys seem to love her because she's a clearly good looking woman who's undeniably got personality too (watched the saving grade pod w her on it last night) and i don't think she's said anything too inconsistent with male opinions yet, sooo... Makes sense why she's liked; imo she plays into the ideal woman from a man's perspective very well

Alternately, Sabina seems pretty reserved on social medias - not really speaking that much as a social media personality, rather just sharing her life on insta n tiktok, whatever - nothing wrong with that.

I think that the fanboys like Sabina quite a bit though, as she posts cooking content on TikTok, and idk why but there's an agenda on social medias atm, that a woman who can cook is wifey material... This woman-must-be-good-at-cooking culture ofc stems from historical patriarchal roles for women to fulfil the duty of housewives, thus being able to cook n clean - but i really have no idea why this still exists in a modern day society considering there's been so many changes within the world which now enables women to work equal jobs as men

I don't know whether this belief of cooking-women being a blessing is a toxic sorta concept though, because there's a certain tenderness and nicety to having someone cook you a meal - regardless of whether it is a male or female tbh

Either ways, Sabina does make meals and does her cooking thing on TikTok really well - like - honestly? Some days I'm jealous that I'm not the one able to eat some of the stuff she can bake n make... Back on track - yes - Sabina bakes/cooks her things n films Chippo's reaction to trying them out

Male audience love this ofc, bc it fulfils the whole woman-cooking-for-partner thing which is favoured amongst males

What's this big whole rant about though?

Well, the male fans hate Faith. Love Sabina.

Okay, cool.

These two facts weren't directly correlated until Sabina's recent post though...

Sabina chefs up some tacos for Chip, and whilst some of the comments are normal cooking TikTok comments, a lot are a bit more... targetted towards Faith:

First time Faith's ever been slewed in Sabina's comment section n the point that i made this whole rant for is that:

BIG UP FUCKING SABINA FOR ACTUALLY REPLYING STRAIGHT WITH THEM

Perfect response imo, not just disagreeing and leaving it open ended, but also pulling Faith up when Faith's been demeaned by these weirdos online

I'm a big supporter of the "you can big someone up without pulling someone else down" notion, and big up Sabina for pulling Faith the fuck up when someone's tried to reduce Faith to praise Sabina

So much respect for Sabina for this one negl - didn't really have any idea about what she was like as a girlie - but this reply's firmly sold me into believing that Sabina is one for the girlies 🙏

(post-writing, blooody hell i realise there's a lot of unecessary waffle here... apologies everyone)

#WAFFLE!! #sabina #chip #chippo crimes #theburntchip #faith kelly #behzinga #ethan payne #tennessee thresh #tennessee thresher #talia mar #danny aarons #sidemen #feminism #youtube #youtuber #girls supporting girls

[maleyanderecafe]

Tell Me You'll Die Without Me (Manga)

Created by: Kotoko (琴子)/utu

Genre: Psycological/Drama

I've been on a translation hyperfixation lately, so I translated a non-smut manga, though currently I can only find two chapters that I can translate. Really gives off a more mystery theming since it's about the main character Toruka finding out that the person she loves is actually a yandere. It's too bad as of now current it ends on a cliffhanger.

The story starts with Toruka in the office after doing some really good work at her company. She talks about how she's a normal office worker that was in a coma for two years after an accident when she was in high school (which so far has never been brought up again and is a super weird place to put it) after leaving the building with her friend, she sees her boyfriend, Iori who has come to pick her up. Iori is two years older and the head of a bunch of hospitals as a surgeon and the two of them have a lovely date, while Toruka wonders if they'll do anything for their anniversary. During the date, Iori ends up proposing to Toruka to which she happily accepts. The next day, her childhood friend and beautician Jin comes over to give her some food and we learned that Toruka was basically raised by Jin's family as her own family didn't really pay attention to her that much. Toruka reveals the news that Iori proposed to her, and Jin feels happy about this. After he leaves, Toruka gets a paranoid feeling of things that have been moved without her notice, noting that she feels like she's been watched lately. We also get to see how Toruka and Iori met, with Toruka breaking her bike after commuting and Jin helping to fix it. The two went out together for a bit before they eventually started dating when they found out that they liked similar things. The next day, Jin stops by again to share some food with her, only to see a tired Toruka peek out. Toruka tells Jin about her paranoia and Jin promises to help her, getting things to help search for bugs around the house. While using it, they find that her keychain has been bugged, the same one Iori gave her.

Not really sure, they try again and find that there's a wire inside of the teddybear that she has. JIn goes on high alert and tries to protect Toruka best he can by picking her up at work and giving the keychain to Toruka's friend. Toruka still wants to believe in Iori and hangs out with him for a bit, before he notices that the keychain is gone. Toruka lies and states that she lost it, with Iori promising to give her another one the next time around. Sure enough, the new keychain that she has is also bugged, and Toruka still has a hard time believing Iori could do something like this until Jin snaps her out of it. At the end of the chapter, Jin ends up confessing that he's always been in love with Toruka.

So like I said, kind of the worst cliffhanger to end up on. I am a bit suspicious of Jin though considering that the last two volumes of the this series have Jin in a pretty menacing and suspicious pose, similar to how Iori is here now. We do know that at some point Iori does cage Toruka, as shown in the beginning of the first chapters. Right now it seems like Iori is mostly stalking Toruka through GPS tracking and wires and hasn't quite caught on to the fact that both Toruka and Jin know about what he's doing. I do have to commend Toruka for trying to stick with Iori since it does kind of make sense that you wouldn't want to believe someone near you has been stalking you this entire time. It also makes a lot of his other actions a lot more suspicious like the fact that the two of them had some much in common, the fact that her bike broke down and it probably had something to do with the coma that she had for two years, though that might end up being a stretch. It is kind of cool watching the two discover just how many bugs are in Toruka's house and what they've been doing to prevent Iori from finding out, like giving the keychain to her friend. Though I'm not sure that you should be confessing right now Jin, like I get that you really like her and her boyfriend has turned out to maybe be a stalker yandere, but like, that's not really helping the situation. Could be related to the fact that he might actually be the yandere pulling the strings and whatnot, or I might be thinking too much into something like that.

Anways, a good start to the series, so I hope that I'll be able to translate more of it when it comes out. It does make a good premise in the beginning though that's for sure. Please read it if you have the chance.

#male yandere #yandere #yandere boy #recommendations #ongoing #manga #Tell Me You'll Die without Me

[literatecowboy]

Dr. Feelgood

10. The One Where Ghost Punches A Cop

Summary: You've been in trouble at work several times before for "lack of professionalism" but now you've gone too far. You've been reassigned to Task Force 141 as a temporary doctor to replace the ones they've made quit out of frustration. You must either prove yourself and earn your former position back at a prestigious military hospital in California or face dishonorable discharge. Author's Notes: This is my first fanfiction - please be gentle. Additionally, the reader's callsign is "Feelgood." I have done my best to write the reader as ambiguous regarding appearance, but she/her pronouns and AFAB anatomy will be utilized. I hope for this to be a slow-burn romance with Simon "Ghost" Riley.  Warnings: Hospitals, angst, police, arrests, punching

Masterlist

-----

You were up an instant, the tears gone from your eyes but worry still clouding your heart. You turned the corner into the lone bedroom and locked eyes with Price who gave you a weak smile. 

“Feelin’ better already,” he grunted, his eyes flicking behind you as Simon joined you in the doorway. “Son, if you don’t marry her, I think I might. Or at least, I’d like Soap or Gaz to. We’re keeping this one.”

You rolled your eyes and scoffed playfully, unable to stop the smile and the warmth that crept to your face. 

“You’re high, captain. Now settle back and relax, I’ll get you some water,” you said, slipping back out the door and heading for the kitchen. Simon stepped fully into the room, letting the door shut behind him as he took a seat beside the bed. 

“Think I’d like to someday,” he said. 

“What’s holding you back?” Price asked, trying to sit up in his bed but wincing at the pain caused by the exertion. 

“Think she’d ever want her old life back? A fancy doctor in California giving up that lifestyle for a soldier who could die any moment?” he asked.

“Think she’d laugh you outta this house if she ever heard you call her fancy, mate.” Price said. Simon snorted and nodded, shaking his head. 

“Don’t have to be a soldier forever, you know. Could make a life for yourself - something easier.” Price said, studying Simon as he sat staring at the bedsheets. This made the lieutenant sit up straighter. 

“Don’t think I’m made for that. Don’t think any of us could…” he trailed off, meeting the captain’s gaze once more. 

Their conversation ceased when you returned to the room, a glass of cool water in your hand.

—

Evac came several days later when the snowstorm had abated. A helicopter came to the field outside of the safehouse and retrieved all of you. Price was the first aboard and settled heavily into a seat near the back with your assistance. You sat beside him to keep an eye on him as the rest of the boys chucked the gear into the heli and hopped in. It took off before the door even finished closing. 

The flight back home seemed quicker than the one to the mission, most likely because you were busy the majority of the time tending to the Captain. Near the end, Gaz and Soap stepped in so you could rest. 

When the helicopter landed, the ground crew didn’t bother waiting until the rotors had stopped spinning to throw open the door. An unfamiliar medical team rushed to Price and, despite his protests, loaded him onto a stretcher and started loading him into the back of an ambulance. You leapt off out of the helicopter and jogged after him, attempting to climb into the ambulance with him, but you were held back back by a military policeman. 

“Ma’am, are you the individual who performed an authorized appendectomy on Captain John Price?” he asked sternly. Ghost, Soap, and Gaz had come to your side now and you looked back at them with a furrowed brow. 

“I am,” you said, folding your arms across your chest. “What is this about?” 

“You’re being placed under investigation for criminal medical malpractice. I’m placing you under arrest.” he said, producing a pair of cuffs and taking ahold of your arm with a rough grip. Without hesitation, Ghost shouldered his way between you and the officer, shoving him back and ushering you behind him. Soap grabbed his arm and held him back and Gaz came to your side. 

“Under whose authority? The doctor operated under the Captain’s own direction in order to save his life. To arrest her on such a charge would be inappropriate.” Gaz said.

“The order comes directly from General Shepherd - the very top. Step aside or I’ll have the rest of you arrested for obstruction of justice,” the officer ordered. Ghost bristled, but you lay a hand gently on his bicep. 

“I’ll go willingly,” you said softly, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. You offered the officer your hands and he cuffed you immediately, your vision blurring. 

“Call Laswell,” Ghost said, offering Gaz his phone, who looked confused. 

“Why can’t you–”

Ghost took a step forward and dropped the military policeman with a single punch to the face. 

—

Later that evening you sat against the wall of your holding cell, snuggled as much as you could be into Ghost’s side. He had slid a bulky arm through the bars to wrap it around you and sat quietly, rubbing your side as you sniffled. 

“It was stupid of you to do that,” you mumbled, brushing away your tears with your sleeve. Ghost merely shrugged and pressed a kiss to your temple. 

“They wouldn’t have let me come with you otherwise.” he said softly. It was quiet for a moment. 

“I love you,” you whispered. Ghost squeezed you gently. 

“I love you too,” he said after a minute. The sound of keys jingling broke the romantic moment. 

“You’re out of here for now. Both of you,” the guard said, fitting the key first into the lock of your cell, then into the lock of Ghost’s. As you stepped into the hallway, Ghost took your hand again, and you walked together down the hall and toward freedom. 

“You’re not being charged, lieutenant. And despite Captain Price vouching for you, General Shepherd is insisting that you be court martialed for your actions. A date will be set soon and you will stand trial,” the officer said. You were offered your belongings back and took them - Ghost’s gear from the mission had been returned to the task force. 

Soap was waiting outside with a car and you pulled him into a tight hug the moment you saw him. 

“How’s Price?” you asked immediately, holding him at arms length and looking deep into his eyes for any indication of bad news. 

“He’s okay, lass. They took him in for a second surgery but you had done a good enough job. Gaz is with him now, they’re at the hospital. How are you holding up?” he asked. You shivered. 

“It was…cold in there.” you murmured. Ghost rested a hand on your lower back. 

“Kept ‘er safe. Let’s go see the captain.”

—

The ride to the hospital didn’t take long, but before you could enter and head up to Price’s room, your phone rang. The number was familiar. Ghost studied you as you shakily tapped answer and lifted the receiver to your ear. 

“What can I do for you, Dr. Klein?” you asked, leaning against the car as it stood parked in the hospital lot. 

“I’ve heard rumblings about you, doctor. You seem to have caused quite a stir during your time with the SAS.” he said, his voice not betraying any emotion. 

“You know me, sir. Did you expect anything else?” you asked, doing your best to put on your most confident voice. Were you about to be fired? Kicked out not only from your position with the 141 but also from your position working with the American military in California?

“I went over the progress report submitted by one Captain John Price, and I must say that I am impressed. I did not expect you to make progress with your professionalism so quickly. It has been recommended to me that you return to your position here in California and be taken off of your probationary period effective immediately.” he said. Your mouth went dry and your heart fell into your stomach, a cold sweat blooming across your body. 

“...What?” you asked, unable to control your emotions any longer. 

“Your captain has insisted that you return and resume your position here immediately. I expect you by the end of the week.”

You hung up the phone, tears pooling in your eyes as your hand flew to your mouth. 

“What is it?” Ghost asked, the concern evident in his voice as he took hold of your hands and gazed at you. 

“Price gave the order for me to go back to California.”

—

“What the fuck is wrong with you, John?” you barked, pushing past Gaz in the doorway and shouldering your way into Price’s hospital room, your furious gaze locking onto him the second you located him. He raised his head from his pillow and gave a weak smile. 

“Hello to you too, doc.” he said, sitting up slowly and settling himself in the bed. 

“You’re getting rid of me?” you barked, your hands flying to your hips. “You’re the one who gave me the order to operate on you. I caught a fucking court martial because of you. I–”

“You’ll be safer in California.” Price said, raising a hand to silence you. “Shepherd is up to something. I don’t trust him, and it’s obvious that he’s trying to get rid of you. If you were to go back to California, you’d be out of harm’s way.”

“I’d still be facing a fucking court martial. What is going to do, kill me? I care too much about all of you to go back. I-I love Simon too much to leave. I belong here, with the 141” you said, your voice cracking. It went quiet, and Price sighed. 

“I’ll help you fight it to the best of my ability. Laswell is working on getting the charges dropped already. If it’s really what you want…then you can stay.”

—

You left the hospital later that night with Soap and Gaz at your side. Simon had conspicuously disappeared not long after things had settled down and you hadn’t seen him since. 

“Broody fucker is probably off lurkin’ in the shadows. He’ll catch up - no offense, but ya need tae go shower, bonnie,” Soap had teased. The three of you had driven back to your barracks together and they had seen you into your room before heading off to their own. 

A long shower had you feeling better - it had been a long last few days, and as much as you wanted to collapse into bed and sleep your exhaustion away, you were starving. 

You padded down the hall and toward the kitchen slowly, your fuzzy slippers protecting your feet from the cold, concrete floor of the 141’s residence hall. It was quiet with the exception of snores drifting out of Soap’s room - you couldn’t help but smile at that. 

On your way back from the kitchen, snacks in hand, you noticed that the doors to your med bay were ajar. Upon poking your head in, you found that your normally locked office door was open too. Worry filled your heart and you padded inside to check for any intruder. 

As you emerged from your office, the sound of boots on the tiled floor startled you. Ghost met you in the middle of the med bay, hands in his hoodie pockets. He wasn’t wearing his balaclava. 

“Oh, you scared me, love. Where did you run off to?” you asked, offering him a tired smile as you moved to head back to your room. Simon held up a hand, stopping you. 

“Wait,” he said, looking away and fiddling in his pocket nervously. “I’ve never been good at these things,” he muttered, producing a little box from his pocket. Your heart skipped a beat, and you froze. 

“Sorry - didn’t know there were sizes. So I had to get this because I didn’t know yours,” he said, getting down to one knee and gazing up at you. There was no shake in his hands as he slid the box open, revealing a beautiful silver necklace with a small glittering stone set into it. 

“Simon,” you whispered, and his eyes found yours. 

“Would you marry me?” he asked.

-----

taglist: @iamaliceinwonderland, @itsmeamysworld, @ghostlythots, @oranoyaora, @keiva1000

#simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley #cod mw2 #mw2 #ghost #ghost mw2 #ghost x reader #ghost x you #cod mwii #cod x reader #call of duty #cod modern warfare #simon ghost x reader

[honey-minded-hivemind]

Platonic Yandere duo rouge and Gambit and child that's from the future reader who's their future child

Ooooooo! Thank you, @surpiseadoption ! Okay, now that's a gold nugget! Let's see what I can do:

As members of the X-Men, strange was as normal to them as the sky being blue or Magneto showing up and causing trouble. Still, some things happened to surprise them, just... nothing like this before-

"Mama! Papa! You look younger! Oh! Hi Uncle Wolvie!" shouts a child, no older than six, who waves at them with the brightest smile and bright pink eyes. And suddenly their world became a lot weirder.

It turns out that this child is from the future. Their future. And is their child. It's shocking, not just because Rogue hasn't hasn't able to touch people due to her powers. How... how did she and the swamp rat get together? For Gambit, well... this petit is quite cute, and is a sure sign he and Rogue were made for each other. They both know (in a sixth sense sort of way) that they like each other. That they want to give it a try. But the fact they had a kid...

They didn't exactly think that far yet.

The child is sweet, running up to everyone and hugging their legs, asking to tag along with them (and following following anyways even if they said no), just doing their best to stay by them, talking about the smallest things to the gossip they overheard from the others and pulling them into games when they can... Yet it's kinda weird having a kid who insists they're married and in love-

"Sugah, why are ya tryin' ta give Gambit a kiss?"

"Cause you said if we gave him kisses, he'd turn into a prince, instead of a frog thief."

"... Uh-huh..."

"It's like that frog from the movie!"

"Well, he certainly IS as slimy as one..."

It's kinda cute, having a little tot trailing them. It's less funny when they set their clothes on fire with their powers.

"Petit, how'd ya daw this taw yaself?!"

"I got your splosions! 'M likea fireworwk!"

"Gambit's gonna be likea a dead man if he don't put ya out... Wait, get back here, bébé!"

Some of their teammates find it endearing, having a tyke running around. Wolverine and Storm especially like them, as they keep getting them involved in their schemes. Those schemes being to get the two of them together.

"Why'd ya say ya needed me in the kitchen, honey?"

"Cause I'm hungry, and yous make good food."

"Then why's he here?"

"He makes good food, too!"

"Just make the kid something ta eat, or they'll start to pickpocket everyone until they find something," Logan snorts, but pats Reader on the head before leaving.

"...Ya taught 'em ta pickpocket?"

"Yaw didn't?"

"No, I learned-ed it from Uncle Toawd!"

"...We need ta get ya better friends, sugah..."

"... Gambit agrees..."

They end up keeping Reader with one of them at all times, once they realize they don't have the best control of their power. Making explosions of light and energy isn't good if you're a six-year-old who falls every five minutes. They've lost count of how many times they've had to pick them up from the floor or grab them so so don't fall down the stairs. How did they ever manage to keep their- this child alive?!

Their problem comes when they disappear one day.

They woke up, hoping to find Reader sleeping with one of them, only to find their beds empty, with no giggling child waiting to hug them good morning. Their worry only grew as their friends and team couldn't find the kid, even the Professor using Cerebro and Wolverine using his senses couldn't find the kid... Their kid...

And when did it get to that? That that was THEIR kid? It hurts, that they're gone, likely back to their time...

But they DID do something...

They brought the two of them together.

And in a few years... maybe they'll be able to bring their kid into the world.... And this time... They aren't going to lose them. Their kid brought them together, and once they've gotten their bebe, they're going going be the best parents they can. That's their mon petit bébé, and they'll be d*mned if anything gets in the way of them coming back.

#honeycomb thoughts #platonic yandere marvel #yandere platonic marvel #platonic yandere xmen #yandere x-men #platonic yandere #platonic yandere x reader #platonic yandere marvel x reader #platonic yandere xmen evolution #platonic yandere xmcu #platonic yandere xmen: the animated series #platonic yandere gambit #platonic yandere rogue

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Oooh! I think I got a fun one. Can I have some headcanons for the lamb? He was walking around one day and encountered a tall human who wears a cloak with lamb horns? He doesn't know their human until they remove their hood (Also the reader is nonbinary because gender gets boring sometimes :]) (Also I headcanon that humans are either nearly extinct or the all of them live underground.)

- Kneecaps Anon

Aw I adore this idea!!

Also this will take place in the early days of Lamb's cult (where they're still getting the hang of managing followers, rituals, etc...definitely long before slaying and indoctrinating all the bishops)

...........

While Lamb was crusading through an unknown part of the Old Faith, they came across the ruins of a village that looked most peculiar. Much unlike previous ones they've discovered.

The homes, although desecrated, were far bigger than ones Leshy's followers would live in. They could barely reach the doorknob!

So they continued to investigate, before noticing someone emerging from the bushes with a bag and bloody dagger.

It's you, a mysterious tall figure wearing a cloak and sandals. But what intrigued them the most were the horns that poked through your hood.

They were unmistakably a lamb's horns.

At first they were hopeful that another one of their kind survived the slaughter...although when they called out to you, you stopped and stared at them in bewilderment.

"W-Were you talking to me?"

"Of course! Are you a lamb, too?"

"...ah...I'm sorry to say this, but no. I am not." Realizing who this was upon seeing the Red Crown, you uncovered your hood, revealing that you were in fact human. "I can understand why my "horns" led to you to believe that."

"That's too bad.." They frown, before expressing surprise that a human was still living in these lands...believing that they've all gone extinct.

But you politely corrected them on the matter.

"There used to be a lot of us, living in villages just like this. My ancestors had treaties with the Bishops until they were attacked by the One Below. And for whatever reason they chose to take their anger out on us, demanding that we go live in their domains or perish. Obviously we refused and, well...now this little village is the only proof we ever existed here."

"I see.." Lamb grimaced. "I'm sorry to hear that. Are you the only one left?"

"Yeah. This place thrived for generations, invisible to the eyes of the Bishops, but all my friends and family either died off or fled to some other land, unable to cope with the constant feeling of danger all around us. Though I wanted to stay because I didn't want those false gods to scare me away from my home." You end your somber tale with a determined huff, still smiling. "But yeah...it sucks, but I've managed to survive for this long...so.."

Seeing as your views aligned with theirs, Lamb immediately invited you to join their cult, promising you safety and better living conditions in exchange for your devotion.

But unlike the more simple-minded animal followers they've wrapped around their finger, you weren't so easily convinced.

Although you admired lambs, you didn't like how this one was basically giving you the same ultimatum the Bishops once did to your ancestors: Join or perish. It seemed quite hypocritical.

In the end, you request to see the cult first and decide for yourself.

They oblige..but unfortunately for them, that means they can't just warp you there and use omnipresence to return to the temple grounds quickly.

But they knew they'll have to earn your respect and make a good first impression--and dropping you through a demonic portal's not exactly the best way to do that.

When you finally arrived, you were impressed by the architecture and the temple...

As well as all of Lamb's followers who flocked to you, awestruck at a newcomer like yourself. Some were familiar with your species, others have never seen anything like you before.

Regardless, they shook your hands in greeting, being fascinated by your cloak and how your hair looked, asking you so many questions that they nearly overwhelmed you.

You haven't gotten this much attention in years!

Lamb was lowkey jealous and pushed them all back to give you some breathing room.

The adorable creatures won your heart over, and you agreed to follow Lamb's teachings faithfully.

They simply changed the colors and symbol on your cloak to match those of the followers. You still kept the horns, as they found no reason to get rid of them.

Afterwards they showed you around, only to realize that you'll need some major accommodations if you were going to spend the rest of your life here.

You couldn't exactly take the mattress from your village here, and the little beds/shelters were too small for you to comfortably sleep in; and grassy gruel and berry dishes weren't going to sustain your hunger for long.

Nevertheless, they vowed to meet your needs, though they also worried about how well you'll fit in and get along with everyone--considering you're the only human.

Later around sundown, you noticed one follower (the only one who didn't greet you this morning) sitting in front of a makeshift grave with a depressed expression.

Lamb explains they've been stuck that way since their indoctrination several days ago, being the sole survivor of a massacre. The grave was that of their lover, who was murdered right in front of them by one of the Bishops themselves.

The sheep learned what happened via mindreading..but apparently it was so traumatic, they spared you from the details.

However, they expressed frustration in failing to convince this follower to move on and start contributing to the cult.

They've exhausted every possible effort at motivating them: inspiration, random gifts, even a funeral service was conducted (and for someone who wasn't even in the cult)..but nothing worked.

Lamb was starting to get angry, but quickly calms down and just reassures you not to worry, instead trying to show you where you'll be sleeping.

"Wait, do I have permission to approach them, Leader? Maybe I can help them out."

"....I doubt it. It's like talking to a piece of stone....but you have my permission to try." They allow you to go, wondering what you'll do differently.

You just went over to the follower and introduced yourself, sitting beside them for a few minutes in the hopes your presence would comfort them.

At first Lamb thinks you're wasting your time, but somehow....you got that silent follower to actually talk about their lover and all the good memories they had together, getting choked up by the end.

You offered them a hug, which they accepted as they buried their face into your chest, sobbing their little heart out and wailing over the cruelty of the Bishops.

It filled you with both sorrow and anger, wanting nothing more than to see their blasphemous empire crumble because of the grief they brought upon this one follower alone.

Meanwhile, Lamb's standing there just..completely shocked, especially after you calmed down the follower and bring them over to them.

"F-Forgive me, my Leader, if...I was being a nuisance by not listening to you." They apologize. "If you want me to start working right now, then I shall. I feel okay enough to do so. Whatever you need, just say the word."

"Wha...??? But....n-never mind. You're forgiven, [F/n]. For now just get some rest." Lamb dismissed them, and only after they've gone to bed do they turn to you with comically-wide eyes. "By the One Below...how did you do that???"

"Dunno." You shrugged. "I guess all they needed was a hug."

"...then why didn't they just ask me for one???"

"They probably didn't know they needed one until now. But I figured your mindreading powers would've anticipated that."

"...are you insulting the might of the Red Crown!?"

"I mean no offense, Leader." You chuckle, patting their wooly head. "Now, where will I be sleeping?"

Although a little irked, Lamb quickly got over it, relieved that you were able to help that follower...how ever you managed to do it.

You had a selfless heart, and that was a good asset to have in the cult.

Why were they ever worried? You'll fit in just fine.

#clanask #kneecaps anon #cult of the lamb x reader #cotl x reader #cotl lamb x reader #lambert x reader #platonic #headcanons

[thetomorrowshow]

for a light

okay I PROMISE that comfort is coming I PROMISE

~

Scott stares Xornoth down from across the plateau, wind whipping the demon's hair and robes, black streaking out from him like some decaying flag.

They're alone, just the two of them, so far away (ndisu ndikitá'ána).

He's here.

It's time.

He sets the crown of antlers upon his head.

His fingers tighten on the thin grip of his sword.

-

Scott hisses as his finger bumps the pot, drops his hold and sticks the finger in his mouth. He was just trying to shift it to settle it better in the coals. Stupid cloth slipping.

Right. There's literally snow right there.

Scott removes his finger from his mouth, digs it into the snow beside him. The burn cools, eventually going numb.

That's one upside to living in a permanent winter. There's snow everywhere.

This little clearing in the woods that he took used to have a tent pitched in the center, grass and trees and wildflowers all around.

The tent is long gone, having collapsed under the weight of the snow and ice that collected upon it. Scott replaced it with an ice hut of sorts, which he thinks he created while asleep because he's not exactly sure how he did it. It's kind of ugly, but it has four walls and a roof and a little hole for a door, and it works.

The grass and plants aren't really visible anymore, the ground covered in a thick blanket of snow. Scott's not sure how, but someone had managed to get him a good pair of elven work boots, insulated and sturdy, so that he can tromp through the six or seven inches of snow without much issue. He's cold, this old, patched coat not quite enough to block out the chill, but the gloves keep his fingers from feeling too much like ice and the hand-knit hat prevents a majority of the headaches that his frozen ears cause. He's not too badly off, to be honest. There's just so much . . . cold.

And if he could get it to melt, that would be great.

He can make ice and snow appear just fine. There's plenty of snow, and he can point and ice spikes will shoot up out of the ground, and he can picture a cube of ice and watch as it forms in front of him, but that just means that now he has a little pile of ice cubes and a ludicrous amount of spikes the size of a tree. He can't get rid of anything.

And sure, he has a modicum of control. He can form ice cubes, and spikes, or whatever. But he can't turn off the way ice and snow just grows around him, or the freeze that blasts from him when he waves his arms.

He's been here for two weeks, figuring absolutely nothing out, and he doesn't have much hope for the future.

It feels like there's a wall in his head, a literal barrier keeping him from finding the way to draw back the ice. He's spent hours, days, even, pushing and shoving and just sitting against this wall, trying to force it to work.

It won't give. It's exhausting, day-in and day-out, to try again and again and again as the ice and snow just build up around him.

"Scott!"

Jimmy.

They haven't really . . . talked. Of course, Jimmy turns up every day without fail, bringing with him food and supplies. He always stands on the fringe of the clearing, shares news of the camp, of their latest excursion, of the fight they have planned.

Scott never really says much. He doesn't know how to respond, and Jimmy always leaves with his shoulders sagging the slightest bit.

What is he supposed to say?

I mourned you. I cried for you every day, because I knew I'd never see you again. I attended your funeral. I comforted your sister. I wore a depressing mimicry of what we once wore together, covering myself in the same darkness that took you. I lost you.

You didn't die, you survived, and I still lost you.

How is he supposed to tell Jimmy that what hurts more than anything about this situation is that he never tried to disabuse Scott of the notion that he was dead?

He thinks he still loves Jimmy. Their hearts were made for each other. They've been through too much together to just let go of everything they had.

But there were forty-two of the worst days of Scott's life, in which Scott believed his betrothed to be dead. He can't forget that. He can't pretend that Jimmy even attempted to contact him.

His mind always returns to that. Why didn't he? What reasons has he given, other than his ominous “it wasn't time yet”? Why?

And now they're here, in this horribly awkward phase where they haven't even discussed whether or not they're still an item (Scott's desperately in love with Jimmy but he isn't sure he can even stand to see him it hurts so much) or if that's even something they want to pursue right now (Scott wants so badly just to hold his hand but he can't let himself hurt Jimmy).

"Hey, Scott!"

Scott straightens (his wings shudder under the weight of the ice coating them, but none of it cracks), shakes the snow off his hands, and turns, stomach twisting.

Jimmy is standing there, a good ten feet away, leaning out from between the trees. 

It's just Jimmy. Hair still too long, beard still obstinately there, an anxious smile on his pockmarked face.

Doesn't he have anything better to do, rather than visit Scott every day?

Jimmy holds up a bundle of cloth.

"I brought some bread and . . . venison, I think? I forgot to ask what it was. Does that sound good?"

Scott tugs his scarf up a bit higher on his cheeks. "Sounds fine," he calls back, voice muffled by the fabric.

Jimmy tosses it; Scott catches the bundle, grimaces when it frosts over the moment it touches his hands.

"What are you cooking?" Jimmy asks, stuffing his hands in his pockets. Scott glances back at his little pot on the dying coals.

"Just porridge," he says. That's all Jimmy gave him yesterday, after all. The grain for whatever chunky porridge it is that they eat at the camp all the time.

"That's . . . that's cool," says Jimmy. Dear Aeor, he looks so unbearably awkward. What does he want?

Thankfully, Jimmy gets straight to the point, no more hobbling around small talk.

"We're going on a mission," he says, the words coming out in puffs of frozen air. "There's a village about a day's walk from here, the largest we've gone for yet. They're going to be a huge asset to our rebellion."

Scott nods a couple of times. "Okay. How long until you're back?"

Jimmy chews on his lip—the way he always does when he's anxious, or isn't sure how to approach a problem. "That's . . . well, I wanted to see if you would come, actually."

It takes Scott a few seconds to process that, but when he does, he almost laughs out loud.

He's out of his mind if he thinks Scott will risk something like that. He can't control this! He's had to separate himself from the rest of the camp because there's a ten foot radius of winter wonderland that appears around him!

He has to be joking.

"You have to be joking," Scott says.

Jimmy shrugs. "I talked about it with the others that are coming on the mission, and they're all fine with it. If it makes you feel better—"

"No, I'm dangerous—"

"—we can walk apart from you, and—"

"—you don't understand, I hurt Gem, I'll—"

"—was just thinking that it can't be good for you to—"

"Jimmy, I said no!"

And childishly, to emphasize his point, Scott stamps his foot.

Ice crackles along the ground like a whip, shooting up in little spikes, a ten-inch wall down the middle of his little clearing.

It stops just short of Jimmy, the last little spike rising just inches from his boots, and Scott almost wants to go and shove him out of the way because Jimmy doesn't even move!

Doesn't he have any sense of self-preservation?

Jimmy doesn't seem scared when he looks up at Scott. He just seems sad.

"That's why I can't," Scott bites out, wrapping his arms around himself. His scarf is slipping, nose exposed to the cold. "I'm not safe. I don't want to hurt someone."

"Okay. Can I explain myself, though?"

Before Scott can give an answer, Jimmy takes a small step forward, boot crunching on snow.

Scott takes a step back.

"We know how to keep ourselves safe," he says. "Most of the people here escaped terrible conditions where one wrong move could kill them. They know how to recognize threats and keep a safe distance. It wouldn't even be an issue to travel with you."

Scott wants to argue, but Jimmy takes another step. Scott quickly steps back, swallowing down the fear that rises in his throat, burning like bile.

"We would travel kind of separately, and it wouldn't even be a long journey. Two days at most, I think. So the main group would stick together, and you would stay within sight off to the side. We usually move quietly, so you wouldn't miss out on conversation or anything."

Okay, that's probably what Scott would do if they were forced to travel. He's pretty sure that he can cause ice issues outside of the ten foot radius, if he tries, but it doesn't automatically happen. Travel plans like that might actually work.

Which doesn't mean they're good. They aren't. They just might work.

"This village has a lot of soldiers, from what we can tell. Way more than there ought to be. They're beginning to figure out our game. We usually wouldn't go for someplace so risky, but there's so many people there. If we freed them, we could easily add two hundred to our able fighters."

Is Jimmy stupid?

"It's a trap," Scott says, pointing out what seems obvious. "Why would they have so many Mythlanders there if not to wait for you?"

Jimmy scoffs. "We know it's a trap," he says. "That's why we want you. We want to avoid fights if possible—and if you were there, we would have a really decent chance of getting in and out without losing anyone."

"You're forgetting that I can't really control this," Scott says icily, and as if to match his tone, it spontaneously begins to snow. "I'm just as likely to hurt one of you."

"We just need you to make it as cold as possible. The Cod will survive—we're pretty good with cold temperatures. But humans are a bit more sensitive to that kind of thing. So we thought—if you could freeze over the village, then all the guards would go inside and we could sneak everyone out!"

That. . . .

That is a monumentally idiotic plan.

Scott blinks several times, just to make sure it really is Jimmy in front of him and not some hallucination induced by so much time alone.

"Or we could not do that," he says. "Just a suggestion."

Jimmy laughs a little. "I kind of figured you'd say that," he says. "But it's worth a shot, right? And if it doesn't work, we can go back to camp and figure out something else. No harm done, right?"

"Other than the possible harm that my very presence could cause," Scott says. "Do you really think that staying ten feet away while traveling would work? Just because that's my snowglobe radius doesn't mean anyone is safe outside of it."

He re-crosses his arms, waits for Jimmy to meet his eyes.

Jimmy's quiet for a long time, looking around at the unintentional ice spikes and piles of snow. Long enough that Scott turns away, tosses the sack from Jimmy into his ice hut.

That's that, then. He and Jimmy aren't going to talk about any of their real issues. Jimmy's so focused on this inconsequential rebellion of his that he won't even think about the fact that Xornoth may be controlling the world by now. Gem might be dead—literally any of them could be dead, Lizzie or Shubble or Joel all could have fallen—and Xornoth has control of half of the empires or all of them. And the only way to stop him didn't work.

Yet all Jimmy will even give thought to is his stupid little rebellion.

"I know it's hard," Jimmy says, voice awkwardly too-loud, rousing Scott from his thoughts. "It's really, really hard. I know that you don't trust yourself, and that you're hurting, and there's so much tangled up between us that I don't really understand but I know isn't making any of this easier for you. But I know you want to get better. I know you, Scott. And I know you will do everything in your power to keep those people safe."

Scott doesn't say anything, blinks back the sudden tears. He doesn't need this. He doesn't need Jimmy telling him what he feels.

Even if he's right.

He would do everything to keep the others safe.

He just can't guarantee that it would work.

"I trust you," Jimmy says firmly. "We trust you. I wouldn't have even brought it up if I hadn't cleared it with everyone else. And if it doesn't work, I'll never ask you to do it again. But please, Scott. If not for the people suffering, do it for me."

He doesn't owe Jimmy anything.

As a ruler, he pledged to defend his people, and he failed. What about when he fails again? Will he even be able to live with himself?

Will he be able to live with himself if he doesn't try?

In the grand scheme of things, a rebel attack to evacuate citizens of a small town in the Codlands is absolutely nothing. It will likely not contribute at all to the ending of the war.

But it's somewhere to start. Jimmy's always talking about how if they're still alive after everything, they ought to be doing something good with it. If he wants to eventually try to launch some sort of hopeless attack on Xornoth, he has to start somewhere. He has to figure this ice stuff out.

"Okay," he says eventually, reluctantly. "I don't . . . I don't want to. I don't think it will go well."

"If you can't trust yourself, you can trust me," offers Jimmy, and Scott grimaces at the hope in his voice.

He doesn't respond. 

He wants to trust Jimmy. He wishes nothing had ever broken the trust that was there.

He isn't sure what did break it. He can't exactly blame Jimmy for not dying.

"I'll come get you tomorrow around midmorning, okay? We're hoping to arrive when it's dark the next day, then just have you freeze it overnight and get the Cod out before sunrise. Sound good?"

Scott shrugs. "It's your plan," he says. "Does it sound good to you?"

Jimmy doesn't respond, glancing over his shoulder. "I need to go finish prepping," he says when he turns back. "Take care. I . . . I'll see you tomorrow."

Scott doesn't move (frozen to the spot, he thinks idly), just watches Jimmy go, picking his way back between the trees.

What has he agreed to?

-

The journey goes exactly as Jimmy had laid out. Jimmy travels in a band of thirty-two people (Scott counts them during one of their fifteen minute rests), all able young Cod, some with cobbled-together armor or swords, others with nothing but the clothes on their back and improvised weapons. Scott sees two hand-made slings, one little hunting bow, and a couple of large branches shaped into clubs. All from afar, of course.

Scott walks a good thirty or forty feet away from the group, shying away whenever someone accidentally veers a little close. They always hurry back to the others, shivering and rubbing their arms.

Jimmy, of course, comes close on purpose. He keeps trailing along on the edges of the group, giving Scott terribly hopeful glances.

Scott just keeps his eyes on the snowy ground before him and wishes he could figure out how to talk to him.

Does he even want to talk to him?

Of course he does. Of course he wants to talk to his . . . to Jimmy.

He just can't. He can't risk hurting him. He can't risk getting hurt.

And soon enough, they've arrived at the town.

Scott has somehow managed to avoid hurting anyone, though one Cod only narrowly avoids getting stabbed by a flying ice spike when Scott gets startled by a bee.

He isn't sure how powerful he is, just that he's managed to tie it down and lash it to himself. But Scott, more often than not, feels like there's a thin door being battered and blown by a terrible snowstorm, ice seeping in through the cracks, and soon enough he'll have to try to open the door just a little bit. He can only imagine it blasting it open and sending bursts of unstoppable power out, forever unable to be closed.

Jimmy approaches him as Scott finishes up eating a cold supper, and even though it's dark Scott knows it's Jimmy because he knows Jimmy, he knows his habits and his tendencies and just weeks ago that had been painful, precious knowledge and now it means nothing significant.

"We're about ready," Jimmy says, not looking at Scott. He's looking out over the ridge that they're hidden behind, toward the town below. Scott wants to shake him, scream at him, drag him down to the ground. Doesn't he know he'll be seen? That his outline against the darkening sky will be obstinately visible?

"I'll take you down there in about a half hour. Then you just need to drop the temperatures to about freezing, all right? We'll do everything from there."

Scott doesn't answer. He doesn't have anything to say.

You left me you died to me I lost you and you were here. You were here this whole time and I've been hurting, and I'm still hurting and you just don't care. Why didn't you comfort me? Why aren't you helping me? Why won't you listen to everything I can't say?

Jimmy doesn't say anything, either, despite Scott's silent cries. He just stands there awkwardly, then gives Scott a nod and jogs back over to the main group.

Scott flexes his fingers in their gloves, blows on his hands, relishes the momentary warmth that brings him. He's always so cold these days. For good reason, of course—and despite all that, elves naturally run colder than humans, with the climate of their dwelling—, but he doesn't have to like it.

How is he meant to freeze an entire town without accidentally doing more damage than intended?

At this point, Scott has absolutely zero doubt that he'll be able to freeze the town. Piece of cake. The problem is drawing back the power after it's been extended.

It doesn't help that he doesn't know what he's doing. It doesn't help that all he's done for the past two weeks is try to not explode. He hasn't actually learned anything about control, or using the magic to his advantage.

And now he has to save a town. Use this untamable magic in moderation.

He's going to fail so badly.

And yet, when Jimmy returns not long later, Scott readjusts the little knapsack that hangs off his shoulder and sets off around the ridge, following Jimmy from a safe distance.

They skirt around their little camp on the side of the ridge, giving the refugees a wide berth so as to avoid getting any of them mixed up in Scott's personal snowstorm. That wouldn't help anything about this situation.

The ice hasn't been unfreezing behind him, either. That's been kind of concerning. He'd assumed, back in his little patch of the forest, that the ice hadn't gone away because he hadn't gone away. But now there's just a path of frost and snow through the long grasses of the outer Codlands, a trail leading directly to the rebel camp.

Scott really hopes it melts with time. It wouldn't be good to have one of fWhip's flying fish spies follow it and discover the camp.

He gets pulled from his thoughts by necessity as they approach the town, Jimmy making sure to keep them to the shadows, out of range of the torchlight from the perimeter guards. They crouch down behind some bushes (Jimmy beckons Scott closer, miming something about talking, and Scott reluctantly settles down close enough beside him—about five feet away, the closest to anyone he's been in weeks), peering between the brambles. Sure enough, there's more guards than a small border town ought to have—Scott counts at least four that patrol by the edge of town in the five minutes that they sit there and watch.

"We need to give my people a few more minutes, probably," Jimmy whispers, glancing up at the sky. The moon hasn't risen yet, so Scott's really not sure what he's checking. "But if you want to start the freeze, you can."

Right. Freezing an entire town.

Scott reaches inside himself for . . . for something. He isn't sure what. It's not like there's anything in there. Just his aching heart.

He legitimately feels fatigued from holding back the magic the best he can, but he doesn't know how to let go. He doesn't have any sort of point of reference for this. What is he supposed to do?

After several long minutes of indecision, of pulling at different parts of his mind to see if something just releases the switch, Scott gives up on figuring it out and just pushes.

He's not sure if the dam is broken, but a little flurry of snowflakes shoots out of his hands and he imagines the town, water in barrels and canals slowly freezing over, the temperatures dropping, the night air becoming frigid and biting.

Why does it have to be him?

"Nice," Jimmy whispers beside him. Scott blinks, looks up.

It's snowing. All across the town is snowing.

He didn't mean to make it snow. He only wanted to make it cold.

And it is cold. His fingers through their gloves are aching, the exposed skin on his face burns as a gust of freezing wind blows past.

"Was that too much?" he whispers, twisting his hands together. "I didn't mean for—"

Jimmy breathes out a near-silent laugh, gives him a grin. "I knew you could do it. I knew it!"

He made Jimmy happy.

Despite all the confusing hurt keeping them apart, that still makes Scott's heart squeeze in the best way possible.

The guards glance around at the fat flakes of snow, clearly confused. There's some shouting person to person, and within torchlight on the edge of town, a cluster of guards gather, rubbing their hands together and stamping their feet and pointing back to the center of town as they talk.

There's no way this will work. If his guards at Rivendell left their posts because it got a little cold, they would be in severe trouble with their captain.

But as Scott watches, one by one, the guards begin to trail away, heading toward what Scott assumes to be the inn.

There's no way. There's no way this is actually working. This can't be real.

Jimmy takes in a near-silent breath, lets it out in a low, loud, whoop/whistle. It sounds strikingly like the call of an owl that Scott has heard occasionally in these parts, late at night.

When did Jimmy learn bird calls?

It's a small thing. It's not even anything that matters. It's tiny and unimportant and Scott really shouldn't be close to tears right now.

It's like he doesn't even know Jimmy. He doesn't want to be upset, but he can't seem to stop it.

Jimmy still loves him and wants him; Jimmy wants them to be in love again.

How is it so hard?

Every guard has gone inside now, the town quiet.

The snow continues to fall, slow, drifting gently onto a peaceful street, becoming a picturesque winter scene.

Yet staring at it doesn't bring Scott peace. He only grows more and more anxious, eyes scanning from point to point, as though he might miss the operation entirely if he only watches the snow.

And after five or so minutes of waiting, Scott sees, past the falling snow, camouflaged people stealing through the streets, peering in windows, tapping lightly on doors.

The Cod residents are quick and quiet to answer, which is absolutely absurd.

It's actually working.

The other day, this was the most ridiculous plan Scott had ever heard. He never would have believed that any part of it would actually come to any sort of fruition.

And here they are.

He continues to watch as entire families sneak out of houses, glancing left and right before stepping out into the street, some bundled up in layers of clothing and others with nothing but a thin tunic protecting them from the weather.

The rebels move in phases, ushering out first this side street, then that one, making sure each sector of the town doesn't leave without instruction.

Scott watches, and something within him marvels.

This is the work. This had seemed so inconsequential to him just days ago—there are much larger things to worry about, after all—but now he can see how this had become Jimmy's whole world.

There's so many of them. They're moving house-by-house, sending one group before beckoning the next, but the streets are still close to packed.

There's a woman, hands covering her mouth as tears stream down her face, following a group into an alley. A shirtless man, carrying two children at once, his shirt draped over the both of them. A child—a tiny slip of a girl, surely not older than eight, clinging to her parent's leg, the torchlight from the abandoned guard posts illuminating her face just enough that Scott can see a hand-shaped bruise spanning her cheek.

The people are malnourished, injured, terrified. They’ve been desperately praying that someone will rescue them, someone will come along and deliver them from this darkness.

And here Jimmy is, a shining light, their once-dead king returned to save them specifically, as unimportant as they feel they are.

It makes sense. Jimmy's forces aren't strong enough to take on Xornoth, so why should he even focus on something so unattainable?

This, while not easy, is doable, and something that both strengthens his numbers and helps his people.

Scott gets it. It's about hope. It's about remembering the lost. It's about finding strength and life in this world of corruption.

"Scott," Jimmy whispers, pulling him from his realization.

Scott blinks, looks over at him. Jimmy's teeth are chattering, his nose pink, his lips pale of color. His arms are clutched around himself, doing nothing to hide the way his entire body trembles.

"You can reel it back in, a bit," Jimmy says, clearly going for humor, but the words fall flat when his lips can't even twitch up in some semblance of a smile.

Oh.

Scott looks back to the town, and now, he doesn't just see the wonder of it all. He sees how slowly everyone is moving, the way the rebels look up fearfully at the quickening snow, the way none of them are wearing any proper winter gear.

It's cold out. It's very, very cold out. It's definitely far below freezing, icicles already hanging from buildings, a thick layer of snow blanketing the ground.

It's too cold. He sees, all at once, three children collapse, and their caretakers pick them up but can barely keep going.

It's too much. It's too cold, so cold that a man stumbles and falls, and those around him are too cold to stop and help.

"Scott, make it stop," Jimmy whispers with increasing urgency. "It's too cold. Scott, stop."

He can't stop.

The door has been opened, and Scott doesn't know how to close it.

He can't make it warm up, he can't even stop it from getting colder. The night sky is growing steadily darker as more clouds roll in, the snow falling harder and faster—there's actual ice spreading, visibly spreading, crawling out from the bushes where he and Jimmy are crouched, heading toward the town and Scott can't stop it—

"Scott—"

"I can't stop it," breathes Scott, and it's nothing but the truth. He can't just turn it off, that isn't something he knows how to do—he doesn't know how to do anything, this is a curse and he hates it and nothing will ever be right again!

"I can't stop it," he says again, louder, voice shaking. "I can't—I can't do it, I told you I can't, I don't know how—"

"Just try," Jimmy says over him, hands held up. "I know you can do it, I trust you—"

"Just—just stop!" Scott bursts out, finally, all those terrible emotions rising to his tongue. "You keep saying—you keep—you were dead, you left me and you don't get to—you can't tell me what I can and can't do, I don't—"

"Scott," Jimmy says, something horribly placating in his voice, and it sounds just like the old Jimmy, just like the one who died—

Scott stumbles up, backing away from Jimmy. He can't—he doesn't want—this is all too much, too much, he's ruined everything and it's too much—

Jimmy stands as well, taking a couple of steps toward him. "Scott, I'm going to touch you, okay?"

"No!" Scott bites out. The wind is whistling in his ears, he can barely hear Jimmy over it—he can barely see Jimmy through the snow, there's so much of it, and Scott can't make it stop! He can't fix this! "Don't touch me, I don't—I don't even know you, I'll hurt you!"

"Scott—"

"Get—away—" Jimmy's just coming closer, one step at a time, and Scott doesn't want him, that's not his Jimmy, he doesn't want to hurt him—

The storm is rapidly getting worse, the snow beating down on his face with little pellets of ice, he had never meant to make it snow let alone storm, he's cursed, he's forever cursed, there's no way he can make things right, there's no way anything will ever be right again—!

And then there are arms around him.

Jimmy squeezes him tightly, good pressure and tightly enough that his brain is forced to settle into a more peaceful state, despite his surroundings.

His lover is warm against him, and Scott instinctively buries his face in the crook of Jimmy's shoulder where it belongs and perfectly fits.

Something inside doesn't really click into place. It doesn't quite work. It's close, but it's just not where it needs to be.

But it does slide together nicely, and Scott somehow finds a slippery grasp on the cold and tugs it back in.

He hadn't even been able to have this before. He hadn't even been able to feel a way to control it, let alone actually take hold.

But there's some kind of power positively radiating from Jimmy, something that Scott can feel and recognize in this entirely new world of magic that he never even knew existed.

It's got to be Jimmy's love.

Jimmy loves him so so much that it overpowers the curse.

And Scott, for the first time in weeks, feels warm.

He feels warm. Jimmy's here, his arms wrapped around Scott, and he feels warm.

A sob rises in his chest.

This is his Jimmy.

His Jimmy is holding him, and loves him, and is so very warm.

"There we go," Jimmy whispers into his hair, voice slightly muffled. "Not too much, now.  We still need a little bit of snow coming down."

Right.

Scott doesn't think he has the emotional capacity to pay attention to anything but Jimmy, but he loosens his grip on the ice just a little, enough that the snow doesn't stop.

The sob bursts out of his mouth, and Scott clutches Jimmy as close to him as possible.

His Jimmy is here. He's actually here.

And Scott can feel his fingers again, warmth washing over every part of his body.

They don't move for a long time. Jimmy watches the exodus over his shoulder as Scott cries into his chest, letting all of the emotions that he's been feeling for the past two months pour out onto Jimmy's coat.

They stand there, and Scott sobs.

After too long, long enough that the tears on Scott's face become more sticky than wet (they aren't freezing on his cheeks, like they've been doing, and isn't that just a miracle), Jimmy pulls away.

Scott feels his tenuous control slip from his grasp—too cold again, too cold—and he launches himself back into Jimmy's arms.

"Don't go," he chokes out.

"Okay."

"Please . . . I can't—I can't do this without you."

"Okay."

Scott takes in a shuddering breath. He's stronger than this. He can do this.

"Do you think you can stop the snow?"

Scott nods, his nose wiping across Jimmy's coat. Then, with a mustering of what little strength he has, he shuts that imaginary door.

It almost doesn't shut. Scott strains against it in his mind, inch by inch, but eventually it clicks shut.

He can't lock it. But holding to Jimmy keeps it shut, and Scott doesn't plan on letting go.

Jimmy's right here.

Jimmy is real.

He's alive.

"You died," Scott sniffles, tears burning at the corners of his eyes. "You died!"

"I know," Jimmy murmurs, sounding absolutely heartbroken. "I know. I'm here."

"You weren't there, though. You—you left me! I was so—so alone!"

"I know," Jimmy says again. "I'm so sorry, Scott. I'm so sorry."

Jimmy's crying too, Scott realizes. They're in snow up to their knees, in full view of the town, and they're both just standing here crying.

Scott. . . .

Scott doesn't really care.

His heart, broken by the weight of the grief hanging so heavily on it, is finally beginning to heal.

That's more important than anything else around.

-

Scott doesn't let go of Jimmy's hand the entire trip back.

They walk back to the camp, bringing up the rear of a long crowd of refugees. Scott's trail of frost is barely-there, and he never feels like he's a danger to anyone while Jimmy is at his side.

They arrive back at the camp almost three days later, the group slower-moving with the addition of a good three hundred people. The camp is thrown into chaos, more than doubled in size, and Jimmy's pulled every which way by every person possible as they try to make arrangements and adjustments on such a large scale.

Scott stays with him through it all. He presses himself into Jimmy's side during a hurried meeting about leadership for splitting into several camps; he clings to him while Jimmy directs new refugees to food; he holds his hand through long hours of pointing people this way and that.

Jimmy doesn't end up being forced to bed until past midnight, a young Cod practically pushing him and Scott to his tent. Jimmy goes reluctantly, walk stumbling and eyes bloodshot. Scott can't imagine that he looks any better—he can feel how oily his hair is, limp after being literally frozen for so long, his wings unkempt and dragging. He can barely stay upright, and relief floods him when they finally reach Jimmy's tent.

Jimmy collapses onto his bedroll without even taking off his boots or unbuckling the enchanted sword on his back, and Scott is just able to manage loosening the laces of his own boots and kicking them off before he falls down beside him.

"There's still so much to do," mumbles Jimmy, and instinctively, they wrap around each other, knees slotting perfectly and arms weaving just right.

It's like nothing changed.

It's like everything is right again.

"I missed you," Scott whispers, though his throat threatens to choke on the words.

He lost Jimmy. Forty-two days of mourning, of the worst torture he's ever been subjected to.

He lost him, and it still hurts. Everything still feels so terribly hopeless, so dark, and Jimmy forsook him for so long.

But he's back. He's here, and alive, and through his thin tunic under the hilt of the sword Scott can feel a new scar just below the nape of his neck (Jimmy shudders as his fingers trace it, but doesn't pull away) but he's alive and in Scott's arms.

He died. Jimmy died, and it must have been terribly traumatic for him in ways that Scott hasn't even considered.

But by some miracle, he's here. He's okay.

He is, isn't he?

"Are you all right?" Scott asks quietly, seized by the need to know that his love is well. He doesn't know the specifics, not really—but Jimmy said he'd been stabbed several times, and that can't have been easy to recover from—and Scott had made it awfully cold earlier, and he knows that some of the refugees suffered because of it, and Jimmy only had that thin coat on.

Jimmy doesn't respond, though, breathing slow and even, and Scott eventually relaxes, assuming that he's asleep. He can get his answer tomorrow, after all. He can fuss over him all he wants.

Scott honestly can't believe that he let himself drift so far from Jimmy. He let his feelings of abandonment and despair and everything else get in the way of being here, holding his beloved, giving him comfort and receiving it in bucketloads.

He was so wrapped up in losing Jimmy the first time, he almost lost him again.

Then Jimmy shifts in his arms, sighs a little bit. "I'm okay," he finally replies. "That's what you asked, right?"

Scott nods against his shoulder, and Jimmy lets out a low chuckle. "My good ear is pressed to the pillow, sorry," he says by way of explanation. "Couldn't quite hear you. Are you okay?"

Is he okay?

He's not physically injured. And he's not quite so cold—with Jimmy's love warming him, he can keep a lid on the ice magic, stopping it from spreading beyond his fingertips.

Everything about this situation still hurts. Everything's still so terrible, and there's no way to overcome it.

But Jimmy's here now, and he loves Scott.

And Scott loves him.

"I'm all right," he says eventually, before burying his face deeper into Jimmy's shoulder.

And he thinks, for the moment, that it's true.

-

Scott dreams that night.

He dreams of a plateau, ice, wind whipping dark robes every which way.

He dreams of his hand tightening around a sword hilt.

He dreams of a crown upon his head.

Inka kuuna ndikitá'ána.

-

It's just barely past dawn, and a young girl with mousy brown hair and scales smattered across her face like freckles is wandering down to the river to collect water.

It's a bit of a long walk, but Lithi doesn't mind—it's preferable to the walk back, when the empty waterskin strapped to her back will be filled with water.

She's a girl forced to grow up too fast, barely in her teens, yet made to take up her mother's armor and flee into exile.

But she doesn't cry. Lithi never cries, and it's a point of pride for her. Her peers seem to be constantly crying, after all. She isn't going to let herself be perceived as a weak little girl. Not after everything her people have been through.

The ground beneath her bare feet becomes squishy, pockmarked with little puddles of water, and she veers right. Her course has taken her too near the slow, swampy portion of the river, and while she longs to go splash about in the swamp, she knows that the water there isn't clear enough to use back at camp. Not to mention, the Codfather wants them to avoid the swamps, for some reason.

She misses the marshes of home. They all do—Cod aren't made to spend all their lives on land.

She knows the swamp misses them, too.

And that reminds her of the folk song that her mother taught her, and her mother's parents taught her, and their parents taught them.

So, while the girl walks, she sings.

The sun is brighting,

Children, come home!

The grass is sighing,

Children, come home!

Where the water's dark and deep

There her children will find sleep

The marsh is calling,

Children, come home!

The frogs are croaking,

Children, come home!

The critters woken,

Children, come home!

Where the water's dark and deep

There her children will find sleep

The marsh is calling,

Children, come home!

The birds are singing,

Children, come home!

The trees are ringing

Children, come home!

Where the water's dark and deep

There her children will find sleep

The marsh is calling,

Children, come home!

The fries are playing,

Children, come home!

The wind is saying,

Children, come home!

Where the water's dark and deep

There her children will find sleep

The marsh is calling,

Children, come home!

The marsh is calling,

Children, come home!

The night is falling,

Children, come home!

Where the water's dark and deep

There her children will find sleep

The marsh is crying,

Children, come home!

She reaches the riverbank as the song comes to a close, singing the last line over and over again, in a myriad of styles and keys.

She shrugs the waterskin off her shoulders, clumsily dips it into the water. The riverbank is uncomfortably dry and sandy between her toes, which long for the mud of home.

Why can't they go to the swamp? Not that she would ever rebel against their Codfather, but she just wants to feel at peace again.

The waterskin isn't totally full, but she draws it up out of the water and ties it closed, arms shaking, straining to hold it up. And now she has to make the long walk back to camp with this heavy load, the leather straps cutting into her shoulder blades with every step.

So maybe she dawdles by the river. Maybe she dips her fingers into the water, swishes it around.

It's that distraction, perhaps, that changes everything.

Because had Lithi not lingered, she wouldn't have seen the glimpse of bright green caught under a rock in the water. She wouldn't have levied up the rock, pulled loose the thing. She wouldn't have held up the sodden leather bag, beautifully embroidered with a bright green cod and a sky blue stag.

And most importantly of all, she wouldn't have opened the bag to find a thin, Oceanic book, nor caught a glimpse of gold shimmering in the silty mud beneath where the bag had lain.

#esmp #empires smp #empires s1 #flower husbands #scott smajor #jimmy solidarity #trust au #krcu #mas writes #040324 #hiatus posting 😙✌️ #shout out to oasis frfr #man what if i pretended to return from hiatus for april fools #i did not do that but missed opportunity #um enjoy some communication issues!! #and i promise #listen to me #i promise that there is comfort #please enjoy #love you guys #(hey guys!! oasis here :)) idk if I believe them. hope you enjoyed though lol!! <3)

[gofancyninjaworld]

OPM Manga Review: Schemes and Heroes

Yup, this is the long-delayed review of updates 235 and 236, variously numbered as chapters 190-1 (Cubari) or 188-189 (Viz, Tonarinoyj). I've made several starts but somehow, never got far.

Summary: Slowly, then all at once

That's how bankruptcy is supposed to happen: the trouble sneaks up on you, and then suddenly, it's all falling apart. When it comes to the crisis of confidence that the Hero Association is facing, they've realised that they're in some bother since they're now struggling to get new recruits. However, things are about to get a lot worse.

We have Child Emperor, spurred by disgust and frustration at the Hero Association's faults and unwillingness to address those flaws, all topped with rage about discovering the pun that his hero name is, who has left the organization for the Neo Heroes. He's announced his new hero name, now known as Wild Emperor.

Zombieman has gone to consult Dr. Genus about possibly removing his limiter like Saitama has. He's concerned for Isamu's well-being and Genos's testimony is one he can't afford to ignore. The doctor has agreed to show him something interesting in the basement.

There's no question that the Hero Association is in deep trouble. We'd seen in earlier chapters that they were struggling to recruit new heroes. Now, we're beginning to see how they lose existing heroes. We see Snek given a brief to investigate a monster attack on a donor, only to learn from Isamu that the monster is long caught as it's one of the many monsters sold as exotic pets. Far from being an investigator trusted to handle a delicate cold case, Snek has been given some busy work. To say he's unimpressed is an understatement.

They still seem to imagine heroes grow on trees the way they're treating the most loyal ones.

More seriously, as Amai Mask tells the executives gathered to discuss the problem of heroes defecting, the executives have ignored Isamu's recommendations to address the shortcomings. He's got an idea other than ditching the HA: raise a hero to serve as a standard-bearer to inspire heroes to join and recommit. It's a great idea, but his choice of Saitama is going to be a hard sell from the get-go. Still, he gets the go-ahead.

We know that 'perfect' and 'Saitama' do not go together. Amai is about to find that out the hard way.

The next chapter starts at another meeting of the executives. And another shock defection. This time, it's not a hero, but Sekingar, who returns his HA-provided artificial eye and hand. He says that he's going to the Neo Heroes as their organisational details and plans for hero development are superior. He stands his ground and counters McCoy's accusation of his jumping ship to sell HA secrets to the Neo Heroes with some shade of his own, saying that he's a company man and knows no one trusts a traitor.

All starts to make sense once Sekingar picks up his new equipment and establishes comms with Wild Emperor. This is all part of a plan to infiltrate the Neo Heroes, find out what they're up to, and assess whether it poses a threat to heroes. Sekingar exits the lift to go out to the pick-up helicopter, only to find Metal Bat waiting for him. Metal Bat will be joining him as his body guard, after having been asked to do so by Sicchi as a favour. Since Sekingar is someone who has earned Metal Bat's respect -- not to mention going into danger like a hero -- he's only too happy to do so. The pair make their way to the Neo Hero chopper.

The earned trust and respect between those two is wonderful to see.

Changing topic, there's another not-quite-a-hero guy we've yet to hear about. Garou. We start out with a glimpse of what the Bang dojo dynamics must have been like. Toxic! He's back, and he's starting right where he's left off, terrorising Charanko. Bang quickly puts an end to it with a knock to his head and puts him to wiping the floor. Working his way up from the bottom of the pecking order is the only way to be accepted anew, Bang insists. Soon, it's time for Garou to head out to his court-ordered part-time job. Even as he grumbles about having too much to do, there's an eagerness and lightness to Garou as he heads off to earn money. The dojo sees him off.

Charanko settles down to relax at last, only to be shocked to see King come pay a visit. Inside, King tries to explain his current predicament to Bang, telling the old man about the near-miss he had with Atomic Samurai the day before. Unfortunately, between the old man's hardness of hearing, King's roaring heart beat, and how much King is muttering, Bang can't hear it. Finally, desperately, King shouts, 'Please make me stronger.' And that is where we end the chapter.

Shall we have some meta then?

META

Self-Efficacy

I love it when characters help themselves. There was a time that I nearly quit watching One-Punch Man: it was in episode 9, when despite everyone's efforts, the Deep Sea King had not been checked, and then Saitama dispatched it with one punch. I felt acutely depressed rather than elated or relieved: what was the point of a series where only one character's actions mattered? Thankfully, I gave it one more episode and the other S-Class heroes started getting introduced, with Tatsumaki showing that she was far from chopped liver. Good. The manga has more space, and it has given characters the opportunity to try more ways of understanding and trying to solve their predicaments, and I. LOVE. IT.

Carefully weighing up the threats and any opportunities this new thing poses rather than simply reacting.

I've Got My Eye On You

Sorry, I'm allowed one Dad Joke a day and today's your turn for me to set it upon you. The sight of the two one-eyed men casting sidelong glances at each other, sizing each other up, and each daring the other to come clean was splendid. McCoy has put himself in a great position to do harm to the Hero Association. He's the vice chief of operations and has made himself seem indispensable in these frightening times. He may be up to evil dealings -- and in chapter 188 we've seen that he's actively set up Amai Mask to fail and is colluding with the Neo Heroes, but he's nowhere near as untouchable as he thinks he is. It's good to see Sekingar and Isamu working together to thoroughly understand what McCoy is really up to and what the Neo Heroes' true intentions are, rather than simply jumping on the first evidence of wrongdoing and losing their leads. I'll come back to this in a sec.

However, McCoy knows that Wild Emperor is onto him, and what with having suggested the Neo Heroes to Sekingar in the first place, is sure to be wary about Sekingar's true intentions. This isn't going to be an easy mission for either of them. I have no doubt in the strength of Metal Bat's arm, but man, he's a little too open for a mission, isn't he?

They know each has dirt on the other. Who will crack first?

​

A Hero Is As A Hero Does

What I love about the cover of 189 is that it features people who act heroically whether or not it's in a capacity traditionally known as 'hero'. This pair of chapters has really been bringing that out. Sekingar's frustrated heroism is finding an outlet in looking out for heroes, even at risk to himself. Sicchi may not want to be a hero, but his unwavering concern for the well-being of humanity and willingness to find ways to use his position to help those who can make a difference shine here. He's a good boss. King and Saitama over in the distance need no explaining. And as for Garou, even as he's not willing to admit it yet, he's a hero through and through.

Speaking of Garou...

​

The Years Come Off, What New Experiences Will Grow?

It really disconcerted a lot of fans to see Garou be the slightly immature teenager he actually is rather than the young man he's been posturing as. Despite how he's being knocked around, there's a lightness to Garou which just goes to show how heavy the burden he'd placed on himself as Fixer of the World was. I've ranted before about Bang's style of dojo management -- the idea of being able to punch down definitely came from him.

Apples don't fall far from trees, after all.

It's not just Garou who has gotten a second chance to do better, but Bang as well. Between Garou and the former disciples who have started coming back, there are a lot of people looking to see if he'll do right by them this time. I hope he's up to it.

King? Eh, I'll leave his tale of woe to the next review!

​

Small Note

How did you know that? Why are you telling me this? These are questions that ONE takes the time to scrupulously ask: knowledge doesn't come to one just because one is smart. It has to have a source, and that source has to have a reason for sharing it with you. It's really nice to see that Phoenixman's knowledge of the Hero Association's backroom dealings comes from having been a previous captive.

I spy with my little eye, a little monster not all growed up yet

#OPM #review #long #manga #chapters 188 and 189 #Child Emperor #Zombieman #Amai Mask #Sekingar #Metal Bat #Sicchi #McCoy #The Neo Heroes are aggressively setting out their pitch #but the Hero Association has people within it who aren't sitting idle #I'm excited to see how it this cat-and-mouse game pans out #Garou isn't having the toughest time ever: sure he's been busted down to scrub but there's a lightness in him having a chance to rebuild

[bonny-kookoo]

Oh no! I want the next part of Namjoon with his hybrid...😭

"There you go." The elderly woman says in broken english, as she sets down two cups of tea on the table. Namjoon is still completely out of it- unsure if this is some cruel bad joke from the universe to actually show him how much better you have it.

But it doesn't seem like that's quite what it is- because the woman is not your owner. The other hybrids aren't owned either. You've simply gone back to a care center- but across the border, far away from him. It's no surprise he never found you.

"How are you?" He asks after a while, and you seem rather timid in answering- rather holding onto your hot cup of tea to warm your hands, shifting a bit in your seat. He remembers you being a lot more comfortable with the to him unfamiliar woman, the caretaker cleaning up your knees and helping you, while he has to watch from the sidelines, unable to get any closer. You seem wary of him now- and in a way, he can understand that. He didn't expect you to come running into his arms first thing.

You stay quiet and just nod as an answer to his question, staying quiet and detached it seems. "I.. hope you know I'm sorry." He says, and you nod- though with a somber smile.

"It's okay." You answer. "At least.. the company made sure I was sent to a place where I could be happy after you gave up." You tell him, making him confused. "Although I don't really speak the language well.." You admit sheepishly.

"How- I never 'gave up'. What are you talking about?" He asks, and you look at him with a bit of suspicion now.

"You couldn't handle me anymore." You explain what the managers had told you back then. "It got too much- and that's fine, I know that hybrids can be a lot, and I-" You try and tell him, but he shakes his head, leaning forward with a desperate look on his face.

This hurts a lot more than just the fact that you were taken away. You were obviously lied to, you thought he had given you away with no regards for your feelings, as if you both didn't have something special. It's true that he had never had the chance to tell you that he adores you as more than just a simple hybrid or even friend- but still. To think that you must've thought he had no interest in you any longer, which couldn't be further from the truth.

"That's completely false." He tells you, trying to calm himself down. "I asked them if they could help me figure something out while I went on tour, just like I told you-" He explains. "-and they said they would simply pay for a care spot at Jeju's Hybrid health center. And I agreed! You know, because you enjoyed it so much there when you were recovering from pneumonia, remember?" he says, becoming a bit choked up as he watches you clearly remembering what he's talking about. "But when I came back, and I asked when I could pick you up-" He takes a deep breath, recollecting himself so he doesn't potentially scare you by getting so emotional. "-they simply told me 'never'. That was the answer I got." He tells you defeated.

You watch him for a moment, before you adjust your position on the chair again. The small kitchen space is empty apart from you both, a stark contrast to the usually busy life whenever it's meal time. You wouldn't say its a bad place to live- the caretaker is doing very well to provide the best care for everyone, but it's still not a home. It's just another spot to reside at until someone decides to take you with them. His story makes more sense than him simply giving you up for no reason- especially considering that you were just.. so sure that he really cared for you.

You also don't have to ask why he never searched for you, considering that you received a new ID after crossing the border, and that Namjoon possibly didn't even know where they had taken you.

"I'm sorry that they've done this to you. I'm sorry I didn't just.. think of something different." He sighs.

"There wasn't really anything different though." You shrug.

"There was." He shakes his head. "I could've.. Jungkook, he has a hybrid. He's bringing her to work every day, you know? He fought for her. Said he'd refuse to continue his career if they wouldn't have let him keep her." He chuckles. "I should've been like that."

"It was a different time though." You admit. "You were.. not as big as you were today." You remind him. "You didn't have that much freedom yet."

"Still." He states. "I should've tried harder." He emphasizes, looking down onto the table.

"…Joon.?" You ask, and he instantly looks up at that nickname, nodding. "Can I hug you?" You ask, and he clenches his jaw.

"That.. might not be a good idea." He tells you, watching with a painful heart how your ears droop down in disappointment. "I might just create more pain like this, considering that.. the situation we're in right now." He explains.

"So, we're not going home?" You ask, and he feels his heart clench. It must be intimidating to be in a country you don't even understand the language of, let alone know your way around.

"I can ask to have you swapped into a carecenter back in korea if you'd like." he asks, but you shake your head.

"No, I mean home as in-" You seem to become restless in your seat- something he remembers you doing often. "home with you. You're home." You tell him.

"Would you.. like to go home with me? Even after all of this?" He questions, and your eyes glaze over as you nod with unshed tears. And in that moment, he knows what he needs to do. He knows what's on the line, and he's not going to let it be ruined ever again.

So he opens his arms for you, inviting you to come back as he silently promises close to your ear, his hold tight and secure with you on his lap, tail slowly wagging. "Then I'll take you home. Promise."

#bts imagine #bts x reader #namjoon imagine #namjoon x reader #ki #kim namjoon imagine #bts namjoon imagine #hybrid imagine

[dragongirlintestines]

Hunger Over Levin-3, Part 1

A vore fic featuring Thorne and Prin (@wolfgirlguts)

Ashvale station, in the orbit of Levin-3, has lain derelict for several years. The only things keeping it functional are the autonomous maintenance systems, still diligently scrubbing oxygen filters and purifying water. Designed to last, the half-mile long series of abandoned habitation rings has become a favorite stop of pirates, mercenaries, and others who would otherwise prefer to lay low for a few days. It's a far cry from the tourist-heavy resort destination whatever megacorp built the structure intended it for.

However, such shadowed corners of the galaxy are ideal hunting grounds for monsters.

Content warnings: Mentions of Sex, Blood, Gore, Graphic Digestion, General Cruelty.

Retro-rockets fire as a lone shuttle makes its final approach to Ashvale station, its raider crew cramped from the arduous journey and ready to spend some time reveling in their recent spoils. The raid had gone easier than expected, and they have some time to waste before they're due to rendezvous with the rest of the fleet.

Six bodies cross the umbilical between fuselage and installation, a mix of soft furs, ears of various shapes, and one tough, scaly hide. Two foxgirls, one red and one silver, mischievous grins flashing in the half light. A deergirl with an impressive rack of antlers spins an ill-gotten amulet around one finger, while a bright-eyed rabbit boy follows closely behind, eagerly chatting to her about something. Behind those four, standing two heads above the rest, a broad croc gal trudges, hauling one unwieldy laser cannon over her shoulder. Finally, a wolfman with greying muzzle follows, his walking staff thrumming with arcane power.

"Did you see the way that one looked when we busted down the door?" the rabbit remarks to the doe, "Priceless! I never get tired of those corpos' reactions when they realize they've fucked up!"

One of the vixens turns and smirks back at him, "Maybe we should see if we can get you to make that same face tonight!"

"I think you'd look quite cute begging for your life like that," the other vixen chimes in, moving to flank the leporine young man. A blush crosses his face as he recalls the pair's reputation for needing to burn off excess energy after a raid.

Similar jests continue as the motley crew make their way through slowly rotating habitation rings, finding a cluster of rooms around a common dining hall. It would seem the last residents to make use of the station had a sense of thieves-honor, and kept the rooms decently well maintained before their departure. The halls themselves are silent, lights extinguished except when the approaching party's life signs trigger their activation. The revelrous sound of footfalls and energetic excitement echo back and forth as the pirates set up for several sols of post-raid debauchery.

"Ahhh, it was so nice of them to leave that booze behind the bar! I was worried we'd have to dip into some of our own stash tonight!" sighs the red-furred vixen, reclining on a bed laden with pillows. The bunny boy, now thoroughly winded, rests his head on her slightly chubby belly, too exhausted and drunk to do anything about the mix of fluids matting down their fur. Beside them, the other vixen lays an arm across the pair, completing the rabbit sandwich.

Not one of them notices as another small shuttle silently glides in to dock alongside their craft.

--

"Yeah, and we still wouldn't have to if you hadn't drank half the bar, Shay," the silver fox groans, a teasing grin playing across her face as she gazes longingly into her girlfriend's eyes.

"Shut up, Bella," The other shoots back, flicking her partner's snout playfully. Above them, something creaks in the station.

"I didn't think we were that rough…" Bella jokes, before turning back to her lovers. "Whatever."

"Uggghhhh…" moans the cottontail between them, as he begins to roll off of Shay. "Gotta piss, do you know where the toilet is?"

"Nope! Let us know where it is when you find it!" Bella laughs. "Maybe after you use it. Unless you're into that, Ollie!"

"Ew. No." he deadpans as he disentangles himself from the horny vixen.

"Okie! Take your time, I'll get Shay here warmed up for round four!"

"Where is the damn bathroom?" The rabbit finds himself thinking, as he meanders through the hallways of the derelict station. The thought crosses his mind that this kind of poor design may have been one of the factors that led to its failure as a resort, and he chuckles to himself.

"Those stupid horny foxes…" Ollie thinks to himself as he leaves the room, unable to help but glance back at their still-throbbing cocks. It doesn't go unnoticed, and Shay shoots him a mischievous wink in response.

--

Up ahead, one of the sensor lights flickers on.

"Hello?" he calls out, wondering if one of his comrades was also up and about. As he casually strolls towards the light, it flickers out again, before reigniting when he comes in range.

"odd…" he mutters to himself.

As the heat of the dryer cleans the fur on his hands, one of Ollie's ears perks up, as he hears the sound of footsteps outside the small lavatory. "I'll be out in a second!" he calls, hoping whoever is waiting didn't have to search quite as hard as he had.

"If I remember tomorrow, I should check that out and see if anything else is malfunctioning" he thinks. He is, at least sometimes, the responsible one of the crew. Finally, his wandering eyes catch sight of a sign, and he sighs in relief as he realizes his search has come to an end.

--

Paws still slightly damp, he hurries through the door, and gently closes it behind himself. Turning back around, adrenaline spikes in his veins as he finds his vision filled with a mass of ashen blue scales. A pair of digitigrade legs, each foot tipped with sharp, bony talons ten centimeters long. Behind them flicks a long tail, pale golden ventral scales underneath contrasting with the same blue as the creature's thighs.

He slowly lifts his vision, trying not to stare too hard at the slight bulge in the golden scales and wide hips sitting just above his eye level. The creature's torso is a mass of muscle and flesh, and nestled between her breasts sits a strange device, a grey half-sphere glowing with baleful blue light. Hoses run from this core, most punching down into the flesh of the creature, but as his eyes follow two of them up to its left where they join into a terrifying mess of metal and synthetic muscle. A prosthetic arm, though he considers that it may have simply been an "upgrade" to the flesh it once was, given how its construction speaks of pure violent intent. It ends in a set of three fingers and a thumb, each tipped with sharp, polished points, the whole hand larger than his head. The terrifying metallic claws of the creature's left arm, however, seem barely an upgrade when he compares to the equally terrifying fleshy right arm. The whole body is framed by massive blue wings, tucked neatly up against its back.

Finally, he looks up to the creature's head, crocodilian to a certain extent, with pale ivory horns protruding from a mane of blue hair. Piercing, lightning-blue eyes leer down at him, and a pale red tongue runs along her lips as she looks down, hungrily.

"h… hello." he stammers, before the creature's metallic claw wraps around his torso and lifts him three feet off the ground, slamming him painfully against the door he just closed.

"Hey there, little snack," The creature growls, a wicked grin splitting its lips, revealing two dozen vicious teeth, each three inches long. Pure terror shoots through his veins, and he screams, every molecule of air he can expend tearing out of his lungs in a desperate cry for someone to save him.

Be it through sheer bad luck or a cruel twist of fate, he can hear a fox's scream of pleasure echoing faintly back through the halls of the station.

"Shame," the beast laughs, "you'll need that breath to run." It whips around, hurling Ollie's limp body 15 feet down the hallway. He bounces and tumbles, and feels several of his ribs bruise from the impact. "Get to it, little meat,"

"Meat?" he thinks to himself, unsure if he heard correctly, before the creature's draconic maw speaks again.

"I need to work up an appetite before dinner."

Oh. He heard correctly, he realizes. She wants to eat him. His mind races, the thought that a fellow sapient would stoop to something so taboo. Sure, some sapients would give in to their predatory instincts, but even the most depraved raiders stuck to hunting non-sapient animals.

"What, did I break you already?" a laughing growl peals from the beast's throat.

He doesn't need to be prompted. He needs to get back to his crew. They have weapons there. Victor might be able to weave a spell to bring her down. Or he could just be leading the monster to them. To devour them all.

No time to worry about that though. He needs to run. Now.

His paws scramble against the metallic floor, struggling for purchase. After agonizing seconds he pushes himself up off the ground, tearing down the corridors of the station.

He takes the forks on instinct, first left, then right, right feels correct here; there's no sense of direction, he just has to hope that by some miracle these labyrinthine corridors don't come to a dead end, and that he doesn't end dead.

No such luck. One wrong turn, and he rounds a corner into a common area of sorts. A large window looks out over the infinte void of space, the peaceful horizon of Levin-3 turning carefree down below. It would be beautiful, if he were anyone else.

To him, all it spells is despair. He's trapped here, in this beautiful lounge, with a monster between him any anyone who could save him. He's going to die here. He's going to die and be devoured by some sort of unhinged dragon woman. He's going to die and then she's going to slaughter his crew and no one will ever find their bodies.

No. he's not given up yet. Though the beast's pounding footsteps echo distantly through the station, he might yet be able to hide. He takes a chance to look around, noticing several doors labeled "penthouse suite" around the corners of the room.

He picks one, and to his relief, it opens with a quiet hiss. He dashes through, and finds a button with a padlock icon on the other side. His paw slams into it frantically, and the door gently clicks behind him. The lights in the room turn on, revealing a dusty, but lavishly decorated suite. A couch, table, and entertainment suite are laid out in front of him, with a kitchenette occupying one corner of the room. Through another doorway, he spies a comfortable looking bed, equally lavishly furnished.

He just needs to stay calm, and hopefully that… thing… will leave him be. He doesn't want to think about what that means for his friends, but that's a problem for when he makes it out alive.

Agonizing minutes pass, and he can feel reverberations as the massive creature treads her way through the halls of the station.

Bile surges in his throat as exertion finally catches up to him, and he leaves a mess on the carpet as he retches. Recovering slowly, he tiptoes his way to the bedroom, tucking himself underneath the bed, behind the bed runner. It's sheer, and he can see the door through it, but it's as concealed as he can hope.

--

"Did I put enough distance between us? Did she lose my trail?" Oliver wonders to himself.

The motion sensor lights turn off in the room, and he realizes the station itself kept his trail, writ large in pale LED lighting. A single, heavy footfall shakes the floor, and he knows death awaits right beyond the door.

A surprisingly gentle knock breaks the silence, followed by a mocking falsetto growl.

"Room service!"

A momentary pause that could last a lifetime. A prey animal trapped in its own nest holds its breath desperately hoping against hope that his doom would turn her gaze elsewhere.

"Ah well, worth a try," comes the growl, taking cruel pleasure in its little joke.

Metal shrieks against metal as hardened steel talons punch through the door, tearing through the it like paper. Blue scales fill the doorframe, and the creature stoops to let itself in. It sniffs a moment, then wrinkles its nose at the small vomit stain on the floor. A low, throaty growl escapes its lips, as it scans the room.

Oliver's eyes fall upon it at the same time as the beast's. A clean trail of pawprints in the otherwise pristine carpet of the room.

The beast crouches down, taking its time to crawl towards the poor rabbit's hiding place. "I didn't know you thought of me this way," she croons as she steps slowly, deliberately towards the bedroom. Stooping again through the second doorway, it presses itself to the ground. It lifts the bed runner, making full eye contact with one terrified lagomorph. Her claw lashes out, filling his vision, metal fingers splaying around his ears. He feels crushing pressure around his skull, and wonders if this is the end.

It is not. She pulls him out from under the bed by his ears, pain shooting through his scalp, and he can feel something warm run down the back of his neck.

"nononoNONONO!" he screams and kicks as she lifts him slowly up off the ground, before forcing him down onto the bed. Not too long ago, he remembers dreaming of something similar with a certain vixen, but this is much less desirable. For the second time within the hour, a scream rips its way through his throat, hoarse and ragged.

The monster does not allow it to last. She climbs up onto the bed after him, its lightweight orbit-alloy frame cracking under half a ton of draconic flesh. Her claws wrap around his arms, and those terrifying jaws crack open impossibly wide. He tries to squirm, but his arms are held tight to his torso, leaving only his legs to flail helplessly against the air, while the beast lifts him towards her rows of flesh-rending fangs.

The deathly maw snaps forward, driving daggers into his arms and gut, forcing the last screaming breath out of his lungs. He shuts his eyes, not wanting to stare down the yawning throat that pulses and throbs, eager for meat. It is only when she takes another hungry swallow, teeth this time piercing his soft ass, that he realizes this monster has no intent to chew. Her tounge dances along his abdomen, and a growl of pleasure reverberates up through the throat around him. Wretched, hot air wafts up from within its throat as he feels its tongue play across his body, tip winding its way into gaping wounds, lapping at his freely flowing blood. The agony is exquisite, but he can only manage a tiny whimper.

Again, the creature swallows, her tongue slipping between his thighs to push him deeper down her throat, rubbing against a sensitive nub of flesh. He is cruelly reminded of a joke Shay made about "playing with her prey" when her tongue had been in a similar position earlier that night.

He can feel as his ears slip into her gullet, and his face is pressed firmly into the soft entrance. Another burst of adrenaline kicks in, and his whole body flexes and writhes, raging against the terrifying thought of being digested alive. His arms, now free of the claws holding them in place, desperately grasp at something, anything, that he might use to pull himself out. Too late he realizes his paw has grasped something bony and round. Murderous jaws once again slam shut around him, and his hand is quickly turned to a mangled, bloody mess as it is impaled between dragon teeth. Likewise, his writhing legs are stilled as daggers sever nerves in his thighs, before pressure builds and he can feel a femur snap beneath several tons of bite force.

Her prey now somewhat more subdued, the dragon tosses her head back, letting gravity aid in pulling this morsel down her throat. One leg hangs limply outside her maw, as the still living meat is hungrily dragged into her throat. The rabbit can't even feel as she wraps her tongue around that limb, and lazily drags it down with the rest of him, not a care given for the disfigured mass of flesh it has become.

The throat is crushingly tight around Oliver, but compared to the bite force he had just experienced, it feels downright gentle. Peristaltic motions pull him ever deeper, and he cannot help but whimper, knowing in his heart that there is no escaping now; only slow, agonizing death. As he whimpers, his body shakes, and tears fall from his eyes, mingling with the esophageal mucous surrounding him. The beast's gullet, ignorant to his misery, pulls him ever deeper.

He feels a gentle pressure against his head, which gives way as the esophageal muscles push him into a more open chamber. He gasps, and immediately regrets it. Painfully acidic fumes burn the sensitive inside of his nose, down his throat, all the way into his lungs. A moment later he opens his eyes, another immediate regret. The throat pushes again. His face is plunged into chemical soup, immediately searing his corneas blind. Now panicking in sightless darkness, he can't help but thrash wildly with what little strength he has left. He feels himself fall for a brief moment, and a weight lands on top of him. He realizes that he can't feel his legs anymore.

As he thrashes, he can hear that same rumbling growl from before, only now it emanates from all around him.

"Mmmmm… yeah. I should get rabbit more often…"

He can feel something pushing on the stomach walls, as the beast rubs her slightly swollen gut. To an outside observer, were it not for the occasional bump, it would be barely obvious that an entire sapient had just been tucked away behind those scales.

"Shouldn't have crushed his legs though… they'd probably feel real good kicking in there…" Impotent fury surges through his mind as Ollie realizes she's taking pleasure in his digestive demise.

"Let me out! You fucker!" he screams, his voice hoarse from his previous exertions, as well as the scouring acidic air of her guts.

"Hmmmm… Aww, does food not know its place?" the monster ackowledges him, pure cruel mockery in its voice.

"Why… We're both sapients… You're a monster…" he moans, delirium starting to set in from lack of air.

"Oh I'm aware, you're hardly the first delicious little morsel to call me that."

"You've gotta let me ou- glrk" the poor rabbit's voice chokes as cruel hands force him under gastric juices. Bloody chime quickly surges into his throat, violating his insides. His tongue feels slippery as it begins to melt, and he finds himself unable to speak as his vocal cords sear through.

"Oh, no, I've still got a whole meal to worry about before that…"

Muscular claws push down on the belly, and it clenches painfully around him. He feels burning inside his chest, and pressure outside. Something twitches, then gives. His ribcage collapses, crushing his heart. Sensation begins to fade.

"I wonder if Prin's caught anything yet…" the bunny hears, moments before hopping off the mortal coil.

#fatal vore #digestion

[howlsnteeth]

hi, just wanted you to know that if you ever wanted to like. interest-dump about cotl and your thoughts about the lore/storyline and stuff as ive seen you show in your art, id read PARAGRAPHS. im so curious and love to hear about people's interest in game/story/media lore and the interpersonal relationships within the universe!!! - from an autistic system who has loved your art since like. forever. (u can call us moss)

okay hi moss :3

i'm kind of due for an infodump on my cotl headcanons, so! i'll try be somewhat concise because this is going to be a long post anyway rip. i drew some pictures :D

(i can't really think of any warnings to give outside of usual cotl themes/killed race/dying/blood/etc but let me know)

obviously watching the destruction of your entire race is traumatic as fuck, also because it likely took a few weeks or months to achieve. so they died pretty underweight/weak bodied/pretty shut down. the bishops are gone by the time lamb is revived by toww, and their body hadn't quite made it to a 'body pit' (or food pit). still, they get Their Bell from another of their race on the way out. probably weren't thinking about it too hard and just desperately wanted to grab something while their eyes burned in their sockets and this red crown fit like molded clay in their hand. my lamb has a little notch out of their left ear which was caused while escaping, which ends up never healing because of a few reasons but mostly because i like it.

over the course of the game/story they start to slowly physically change. after revival it takes scars a Long time to fade, considering lamb is technically a walking corpse, and also because of their affiliation with Death (narinder, who has similar i'll mention later). they get dark marked lines under their eyes from that classic 'bleeding eyes' action during rituals/etc. their ears but especially horns get longer and sharper. their way of coping is similar to most lambs, jokes and pulled punches.

by the end of the 'main game/toww fight,' they've already made their choice, and start flexing their control/communication with the red crown itself. it gets harder for toww to view through it, and lamb gets somewhat intoxicated with the idea of an ultimate revenge, having killed all the other bishops. they've done everything they can to stop their cult members noticing signs of weakness, but as things get more stressful this kind of rubberbands around to them seeming extremely unstable. by the time they go to fight toww they're muttering nonstop, barely aware, and also they let their wool get longer and basically end up with a mullet. <3 because it's funny to me

they obviously beat toww and for them it's like a smashing of clarity, like a gripped handle let go, standing up from the river of blood. it's freeing but also the most pain they've ever been in. and instead of killing toww this pit in their stomach spares him. lamb went from a corpse to a god and now, in some sick way, they want to watch a god turn into a living corpse, just like them. because with every other sheep dead, narinder is the only one with a connection to that genocide, the cause of the other bishops doing it.

narinder hates their fucking guts. obvs. he thinks, or knows, that lamb is doing it on purpose. but narinder's body hasn't been normal for far, far too long. even before he was made death (as in artworks i've done with him), his body turned skeletal and rotted away. lacerations open all over his body, but especially down his front torso. when he's first brought to the cult, lamb gives him red robes, also because of this 'problem'. but narinder does every single thing he can against them. he gets white robes and lets them turn bloodied and disturbing to everyone around him.

even washing them stops working, and lamb does resign slightly to letting him sit in his dirty stupid robes. it's the pettiest shit. narinder also keeps his veil, and lamb can't bother with a reason to take it away. let that dumbass keep his yuck robes and veil. you can only stick him the stockade for a week before your other followers get too concerned.

over time, they do end up getting closer, but it comes from a place from both being touched and changed by Death, the red crown, and the choices of the other bishops. it takes a really long time and only after all the other bishops have been recruited (another whole thing). both of them catch themselves enjoying little things, and then having moments of all the pain bleeding through. an example is over time narinder does end up wearing darker robes, but it's fairly gradual. in this piece, it's lamb getting too deep in the countless lives that were taken from their race, triggered by blood (a whole little story thing), and narinder does make the (semi subconscious) choice to wear dark robes.

anyway you're probably looking at that giant shadow in the picture huh. it takes a long time but lamb Does end up truly becoming a bishop.

not 100% done with this design, but it has the basics. their main horns end up breaking off (thinking of a story behind that still). the main thing with them that i really like is they have multiple strings of bells on them. so everyone starts associating the sound of ringing bells as Death. so if you hear them, they're coming for you. that being said, they also have the ability to move completely silently, despite being covered in bells. which adds to the scaring-the-fuck-out-of-everyone factor.

there's a ton more i could get into with the other bishops, ratau, the duck siblings, the crowns themselves, more aym and baal, but i'm probably gonna do more artworks with them so i can talk more then :3 this is already too long lmao

thanks for the ask though!! it's nice knowing people are interested in my stuff :D (it's also worth mentioning that i am also a system and have alters of lamb, narinder, and aym and baal, who all contribute to this stuff)

#barks #cotl #cult of the lamb #long post under cut

[golden-wires]

!!!SPOILERS FOR METALOCAYLSPE ARMY OF THE DOOMSTAR!!!!! i'm going to be talking about a scene and my thoughts when first watching so please if you haven't seen scrollllll!! this is just me over analyzing a scene in my metalocalypse brain rot

this right here of Nathan SHOVING murderface back under the water really spiked the anxiousness I felt in this scene but in a invested way, they're not just half assing this like they might've done before, they are like "Get BACK under the water" if done wrong they could have killed him, there's a lot going on here omg they have to be roigh with their friend knowing that he's under someones control. so there's them being strategic with it but also a panic to get it over with, because when have they ever had to drown someone? let alone someone they are close with

then the look they all share once murderface had gone still- this short scene had no reason to be ripping my heart out /lh they could've written them all to be smiles and be like "job well done" and leave murderface in the water alone as a joke, but no we get them as the most quiet they've ever been, and saying so MUCH without even speaking, because once he goes limp there is no sigh of relief, they're tired from whats been going on so they take a moment to catch their breaths Nathan- looks the most panicked here, he doesn't know if he and the others went too far, he doesn't know if he went too far, he is already feeling the weight of it all for having messed up the song and put them all in this situation. So the idea they could have just killed one of their bandmates just like that, and so quickly while once again from him trying to do the right thing must be the most scared he's ever been, or at least ever let himself feel, and its bubbling VERY close to the surface here. Toki- he also shares a similar scared expression and looks to his more level headed bandmate (as much as skwizgaar could be) for some kind of reassurance or look that lets him know its fine and they did something right. or that murderface is okay Skwisgaar- his facial expression lets nothing out, no fear but also no answer, he also is just quietly waiting for the other shoe to drop I don't quite have the words to explain how pickles might be feeling in this moment but the overall feeling from them all is a quiet silence as they wait on baited breath to know whether in these past 30 seconds if they just saved their friend or did they all fail

the cpr scene: This is where again are SILENT but are letting a lot be said but are not saying anything out loud its so AUGH

^ and there it is, in this brief moment seeing his bandleader hunched over desperately trying to revive their bass player, not saying anything and no guitar to pick at to relieve stress- skwizgaar is scared. maybe you could say he looked to Nathan and pickles for his own reassurance but at this moment no one here has a rock to lean on and they're scared. They're never ones to say how they care or show it a lot but it's evident the way how scared they are in the fact murderface might be actually dead

Pickles solem attempt to get nathan to stop cpr, thinking that's it, that nothing more could be done this time Nathan's frustrations and fear the most prominent because he CAN'T lose again, everything coming to an ugly head here with just the four of them to witness it

their rock crumbling in front of them skwizgaar laying a comforting hand on pickles, he normally doesn't appreciate his bandmates being touchy but at this moment its an act for someone else okay rambling session over, i loved this movie

#metalocalypse #metalocalypse army of the doomstar #metalocalypse skwisgaar #metalocalypse toki #metalocalypse pickles #metalocalypse nathan