#blowing up entire villages just for being jerks

[tomicscomics]

06/24/2022

Just for five minutes?

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JOKE-OGRAPHY: 1.  In this Bible story, Jesus and friends are heading to Jerusalem.  They try to stay in a Samaritan village, but the Samaritans won't take them in.  The brothers, James and John, ask Jesus if He wants them to call down fire from Heaven to wipe out a town that disrespected Him.  He does not.  Some people think this is why Jesus starts calling them the "Sons of Thunder". 2.  In the second panel, John tells Jesus, "Only say the word and our souls shall have that power," which is a play on the part of Mass where we say, "Only say the word and our souls shall be healed."

[bump1nthen1ght]

Dangerous Liaisons (Reader x Tentacle Monster)

Pairing: Male!Kitsune!Reader/Tentacle Monster

Genre: FWB, Dark Fantasy, Sado-Masochism

Warnings: 18+ content up ahead! Description of blood and cuts, Mentions of past dub-con/rape (none depicted), Mentions of past murder, Just some bad people y’all

Word Count: 1695 words

Summary: After one of your neighbor’s kidnapping goes awry, you decide to make up for his lost prey.

Request: hi! i fell in love with your tentacle write, now my absolute favorite, so i’m here to request another one if you don’t mind. for this could it be a male tentacle monster x kitsune male reader? and instead of being traditionally good natured, reader’s of a more dark/evil-esk nature, as well as open minded to whatever kinks. esp anything rough, sadistic, & bloody. Tyvm!!

The cave floor is cold, icy compared to the humid air of the summer day. Sweat beads at your shoulders and your temple as you walk in, the shade a nice relief from the setting sun. You thread your tail in between your fingers, eyes drifting to the drying pool of blood near your foot.

“Another one bit the dust, huh?”

A deep gurgling sound crawls through the dark at the center of the cave. The looming stalactites and pitch-black emptiness might have scared away any nearby travelers or the mortals of the village, but you know what hides here; It’s not that scary.

To you, anyway.

“No….escaped.”

You roll your eyes, walking deeper inside until you see the familiar form of your pitiful neighbor.

He isn’t terribly damaged, only one long scratch running up one of his tentacles. It’s one of his larger ones, so the poor little morsel he had captured must have shocked him enough to run away and avoid any of the other tendrils.

“Tch, figures.” You chide, kicking a rock his way. “Seems you’ll have to move caves again. There will be adventurers here by tomorrow morning to kill you.” You brush off the dust from a nearby boulder, plopping your butt on it as he moans in pain. “This is what you get, Nio. You got too greedy, kidnapping mortals to partake in your ‘fun’”

A lone tentacle throws a pebble at you, but you dodge. A set of golden eyes peers out from the mass of limbs, furrowed in anxiety. You had only seen the form he used to lure his ‘playmates’ a couple of times; It resembled a handsome young man, only entirely purple, with shiny skin and placating smile. It was just tall enough to peek out from the cave and attract any wanderers, coming close enough to be snatched up by his tentacles, stolen away for his sick fantasies.

“Besides,” You click your teeth, “They break too easily. How many have you gone through now, six? Seven?”

“.....Nine.” Nio hisses, rubbing soothingly over his slowly-healing wound.

“See? Insatiable, you are. It’s not a very respectable look, you know.” You stand up from your seat, sauntering over to where Nio huddles in the corner. You rub your neck, feeling the sweat pooled at the base, and your robe falls down to reveal your shoulder. Nio’s eye’s flit from your exposed skin to your flicking tail. A lone tentacle, dripping with a viscous ooze, slowly wraps around your ankle. You chuckle, the damp air slowly reeking of Nio’s pheromones.

“But it’s your lucky day.” You undo the strap of your robe, letting it fall down your chest and exposing your form to Nio’s greedy eyes. “Because I’m a little insatiable too.”

Nio’s pupils blow out in excitement, his tentacles shifting as he slowly reveals his form. The tentacle around your ankle begins to travel up your calf, leaving a trail of slime behind it. But you yank away your foot and stomp on the tip, Nio squealing in pain and jolting backward. You smile, his yipes music to your ears.

“Just because I’m giving you my time doesn’t mean you're the one in control, idiot.” You throw your robe to the side, slicking your hair back between your ears, “Now you can touch me.”

Two more tentacles approach your legs, far more cautious than before. But when they reach your legs, you allow them to fondle your calves and your thighs, that thick ooze making your skin light and tingly. You let out a long sigh as you let the slow-burning lust of Nio’s aphrodisiac slime run through your body. You don’t need a lot, but it’s a definite plus of these rendezvous the two of you have.

You walk forward, Nio’s hungry tentacles easily latching on to your soft skin. They skirt around your erogenous zones, knowing what punishment awaits if they do anything without your direct permission. But one tentacle craves the pain, and tentatively fondles your balls.

Your deep groan descends into a snarky chuckle, letting the tentacle press against your perineum and even prod at your asshole. But with quick precision you grab Nio’s wounded tentacle and dig one of your claws into his wound.

All of the tentacles around you shudder and tighten as Nio shreaks, but none of them detach, even as blood drips down your fingers and onto your palms. You pull out your thumb from Nio’s flesh, the tiny wound reopened from your prodding, and take a long lick up your wrist. Crimson stains your jaw and lips, smearing as you lick your lips from the taste. It’s iron-like, but just a little bit sweeter than mortals. It’s another plus of sleeping with Nio.

You relish in the taste, putting on a show of rubbing your bloody palm up and down your chest. Nio’s eyes squint in frustration, but they dart up and down the red trails left on your skin.

“That hurt?” Nio nods and you lick your lips once more. “Good-”

You’re left wheezing as the offending tentacle shoves itself past your asshole with no warning. Another tentacle wraps itself around the base of your cock and squeezes hard. You keel over from the sharp tension and fire that is stoked in your belly. You look down at the offending  tentacles with a sneer, but you can’t help the small moans that escape you as you’re stretched open.

“Oh, we’re playing that game h-huh?” You mutter, thrusting your hips into the tight, hot grip of the tentacle around your cock. That tingly sensation now buzzes across your shaft, the tentacle alternating between playing with your tip and holding your balls in a vice grip. But the hand you use to yank back his bleeding tentacle is swift, controlled.

Blood falls down the appendage in small rivulets, the wound slowly rehealing before you lick the tip. You let your tongue roll out of your mouth, licking up the tentacle like a frozen treat, just avoiding the open wound. Nio’s groans rumble through the cave floor and up your body. You sink your lower half into his grip, more tentacles coming to support (and grope) your ass and thighs.

Your hand squeezes Nio’s trapped tentacles, claws retracted, and coerce it further down your throat. Saliva and blood drips past your lips as it  goes even deeper, thrusting against the back of your throat. Droplets fall onto your hard cock, now covered in a mixture of Nio’s ooze and your pre-cum.

The tentacle in your ass has become sloppy, it’s pace haggard and quickly losing focus on your prostate. To kick it back into gear, you nip the tentacle in your mouth with your teeth, pulling it out completely before giving it a kiss.

“You’re so greedy, Nio. Isn’t this supposed to be a partnership?”

Nio growls, but you can see the burning lust in his eyes as they take over your debauched mouth. Your lips are bruised from the blowjob, your skin sweaty from the myriad of sensations attacking your body all at once. You kiss the tip of the tentacle again and give him a wink.

The tentacle inside your ass picks up speed, going even deeper than before and paying extra attention to your pleasure spot. You smirk, slowly reinserting the tentacle back in your mouth.

“Good boy.” You sputter, Nio’s tentacle hungrily forcing itself down your throat once more. It presses hard against your gag reflex, ooze spattering over your cheeks as it plunges in and out of your mouth, soon matching the tempo of the one inside you. With each jolt of pleasure running up and down your abdomen is another shuddering thrust into your mouth.

You take deep breaths, compensating for the thickness currently blocking your airways. Despite his roughness, you do feel Nio slip a tentacle back to the base of your tail, petting your fur with light touches as another one punishes your asshole.

Aww, what a softie.

You can feel a tightness beginning to cinch in your stomach, your cock weeping globs of pre-cum, spurred on and on by Nio’s aphrodisiac. The tentacles coveting your body thrash with abandon, shuddering as their movements become messier and messier. A tentacle presses up against your insides, barely leaving your asshole before pushing it back in with an uneven pace.

You moan, heading rolling backwards as you feel your climax approaching and your  muscles preparing for a big finish.

But right before you can approach that peak, a large tentacle wraps itself around your neck, and squeezes.

You barely hear Nio’s raucous moans as your throat constricts around his tentacle, the rubber band finally snapping as you orgasm. Your hips jerk into  Nio’s grip as ropes of cum spray across Nio’s body and up your navel. He is quick to lap it up, the tendrils soaking in it as the pet your skin.

Nio let's put another booming growl as hot liquid shoots up your asshole and down your throat, viscous and sweet like nectar. The heat feels like heaven against your sore muscles, dripping out  of your holes and down your skin as Nio finally pulls himself all the way out of you.

You collapse your body against the cave wall, sweat and cum coating your skin as you  slide down to your bottom, cringing from your ass’ sensitivity.

The air is thick, reeking of bodily fluids and sex. The pool of blood has long dried, barely leaving a dent on the cacophony of scents in the air.

After catching a breath, you stretch your arms upwards, craning your back before pushing yourself back to standing. You bend your neck too and fro, your tail lazily swinging behind you.

You approach Nio, still quivering from his climax, and grab your robe. You sling it over your shoulder and brush your hair back.

“I’d suggest you get going soon. We don’t want any stupid knights to come and ruin our fun, right?”

Nio gurgles, eyes drooping as he sinks back into his mass of tentacles, exhausted. You lean down and pat one of them.

“That's what I thought.”

[never-mess-with-the-uchihas]

Best SasuSaku Moments in the MANGA

Best moments in Novels

Best moments in Anime(Boruto)

I NEVER IN MY DREAMS EXPECTED Sasuke to share something so SACRED between him and Itachi (the brother he loved more than anything else in the world) with Sakura, or anyone else for that matter.

This was one of the most important gestures in the entire series. And the fact that Sasuke shared this with Sakura, immediately after being released from prison, and before leaving for his redemption Journey, further proves that even though they were apart for so many years, and were enemies in the past years, Sasuke never stopped having that special place in his heart for her.

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Lol, Sasuke, weren't you trying to cut off your bonds? Why did you have to do one of the sweetest things you have ever done, to break your bond with this person?

There was no need for him to listen to her words and confession when he was about to leave the village. There was no need for him to give her a soft shy smile, and Thank her for loving him, But Sasuke went out of the way and did all these this things. And he wouldn't have bothered if she meant nothing to him.

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"Sakura... Who did this to You!?"

This was the moment where I got to know how important Sakura actually was to Sasuke.

Naruto was lying unconscious right beside him - but he reacted to Sakura's injuries. Because He can't see her hurt. And it was not simple killing intent. He was only focused on Sakura's injuries and repeatedly asked her who hurt her. But Sakura on the other hand was too focused on Sasuke's marks and his darkness consuming him. And her touch and tears were able bring him back to consciousness, and get out his Rampage-Mode. LOL Until this moment, I had no idea that Sakura had that much effect on him.

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Sasuke calls Sakura someone dear to him and was even willing to die protecting her, which would mean that he had to give up on his revenge - which meant more than anything else to him.

And then he caught her, and laid her down softly, looked at her with soft and tender eyes, and asked Pakun to take care of her.

(Can You make Uchiha Sasuke any more caring?? :p)

Sasuke catches Sakura in Root Dimension

We don't know what he was thinking in this moment. Why did he catch her in the first place? And why did he keep holding her for longer? Just few moments ago, He himself said that He wouldn't have minded if she fell into the lava, in the other dimension. But now, here He is, not even willing to let her fall on ground.

But that's not all... Why was he looking so intensely in Sakura's eyes? It couldn't be because she saved him. Even Karin and Kabuto saved him from the brink of death many times, But he never spared them even a second glance. What's so different about Sakura?

Lol Sasuke, Your words and Your actions, don't go hand in hand. XD.

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Sakura confesses to Sasuke for the 2nd time.

This was when Sasuke was still in darkness. But still Sakura's words were able to shake him. He turns back with sad eyes and a sad smile and calls her annoying again. For making him shake in his resolve. Even if just for a moment. This was important because words never worked on Sasuke. Even Naruto needed to blow off his arm(and his own) to bring him back to senses.

Also... Sasuke putting her in the harsh genjutsu was too much intense for the entire fandom. Also... What I fail to understand why did he even bother to listen to Sakura's confession and what Kakashi had to say about Sakura's emotions,in the first place. I mean, he could have just left. Why was he even trying to reason with Sakura's feelings.

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"Sakura...I am..."

"Just Shut up for now. I am trying to concentrate."

*Sasuke's eyes softens up*

"I am Sorry..."

"Sorry, for what?"

"For Everything."

"You should be. You Jerk"

*Sasuke looks at her with sad and soft eyes.*

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Sasuke had always kept Sakura on the same pedestal, that he kept Naruto on. Sakura always occupied Sasuke's thoughts whenever he thought of his good times and dear ones. She always had a place in his heart and thoughts.

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Lol, I did a double Flip when I read this panel for the first time XD. I was like... Wait a moment... Did Sasuke just refer to Sakura as "MY WIFE"?... And when I was like - "Okay... That's normal.", He dropped the second bomb - "MY WIFE IS NOT WEAK".

If You can get Uchiha Sasuke to call you, "My Wife", in front of lot of people,AGAIN AND AGAIN, and defend you in your absence, and make HEAVY STATEMENTS like this for you, Then bro... You know he loves you.

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Lol, This scene was epic.

First, because this made those SK shippers shut the fuck up up.

Second, Because Sasuke literally "low-key" confesses in front of Sarada, Choucho and Naruto, that he loves his wife, and Sarada was born because they made love. Never thought Sasuke would be so direct about these things XD.

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Best SasuSaku Moments in the Novels

Best SasuSaku Moments in the Anime(Boruto)

[aminiatureworld]

A Sea of Fragment VI

Word Count: 3.964

Warnings: Slight violence

Author’s Note: I’m back! This chapter was so enjoyable to write, I missed this series so much! Hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

Also yes I did see the 2.1 trailer. Scaramouche’s JP laugh my evil beloved.

After your little interlude of conversation with Scaramouche you had succumbed once more to the blinding heat that was enveloping you. Having little sense of the world around you, waking up to bits and pieces of movement only to be stolen away by the darkness again, you found yourself completely disoriented by the sight that greeted you when you finally woke up.

You were in a tent, that much was sure, though beyond that you weren’t really aware of much else. The bed that you were lying on, though slightly damp, was clean, and the top cover, which remained underneath you, was folded over neatly. There was a large table next to you, filled with what could only be medical equipment, as well as a dresser, a chair, and a bench, presumably there for medical purposes. However the high quality material of everything, the tent, the sheets, the pillow, made the whole room seem much too fancy to be a simple hospital tent.

You weren’t sure how long you lay there, too afraid to move in case the world started swimming again, when what could only be a medic walked in. The Fatui emblem was embroidered neatly above his breast pocket, but otherwise he seemed completely, almost unnervingly, normal. The only other thing of note was the Anemo vision strapped to his arm.

“Ah I see you’re awake. Good, I didn’t want to have to call the head medic in again, since she made it perfectly clear already that your case didn’t need her specific supervision. Still, when my lord Scaramouche came in shouting, she couldn’t very well say that, ignoring how banged up you were at the time.”

“Scaramouche was here?” You asked, head still slightly fuzzy.

It probably shouldn’t have been a surprise to hear that, after all you weren’t the one walking to the medical tent by yourself considering the state you were in. Still the image felt like an odd one. You figured he would’ve found someone else to do it for him. Letting this information rattle around in your mind you mutely listened as the medic asked you to hold out your arm for pulse checking, barely listening to his halfhearted small talk.

“Your pulse seems to be evening out a bit,” he finally said. “Good, you were going berserk for a little bit there. We even had to call in a healer, didn’t want you to die. Thankfully the healing seemed to help, my lord was saying something about your state being magic induced, and we were worried that there would be no effect.”

“Thank you for your concern,” you replied, knowing full well that this level of treatment was likely the result of being dragged in by a Harbinger. Still, you couldn’t help but feel somewhat grateful.

“It’s nothing. Better have you alive then a dead body on our hands after all.”

“Fair enough.”

“Still, you’ll have to take care. Your iron levels were also somewhat wonky, so we’re going to give you a week’s worth of pills for that. Come back in a week and if everything seems alright you’ll be good to go. Okay?”

“Alright.”

The medic nodded before walking out. Feeling still exhausted you flopped down on the bed. A breeze seemed to be blowing outside and a part of it came in through the slits in the tent. Letting the wind fan over you, you closed your eyes. Soon enough your thoughts swam into incoherence and you were dragged down into the realm of sleep.

 “My lord.”

Scaramouche jerked his head up from the papers he’d been half heartedly studying. Seeing the medic in front of him he immediately stretched himself up a little taller. At least this wasn’t something completely worthless.

“I assume you’re here to tell me about the condition of the person I left with you.”

“Yes, they have just woken up. Their vitals are no longer in critical condition, and they appear to be alert.”

“Good. That will be all.”

“Yes my lord.”

Scaramouche waited until the medic had left before letting his thoughts roam. You were awake, you were finally awake. Though he wanted to deny it, the relief that flooded through him made it all too apparent how worried the Harbinger had been. When you’d first woken up in his tent he had felt worried, yes, perhaps even slightly frantic. Still, he had assumed that that would be the end of it. You collapsing again had made his blood run cold in a way that rarely, if ever happened. He was Scaramouche after all. The Balladeer, the Harbinger who had no room for mercy in his heart, no time to worry about the lives of other people. After all, does the winter blizzard care about whose house it destroys? Certainly not, it only has to fulfill its goal. Yet he had cared about what was happening with you, even more than that, he’d been worried, perhaps even terrified.

Acknowledging these things left a bitter taste in Scaramouche’s mouth, but he wasn’t idiotic enough to try and deny it. Somehow you had managed to become noteworthy to him, important enough to draw such a reaction out of him. Was this some despicable side effect of your ability? No, it was unlikely. There was no use in looking for excuses or denials. What the Harbinger had to do now was figure out what to do with his predicament. He ought to crush it, to treat you as he would any other low-level lackey, he ought not to have brought you over to his personal section of the medical tents, should have had someone else carry you to the general wing. Those sorts of regrets were too late now however. He had acted out of pure panic, hadn’t even thought of the strict hierarchy that ruled all the lives of those who lived under the Tsaritsa.

Not did your aberrant status help, you who weren’t from Snezhnaya, who had no sense of authority, who had no true place amidst the Harbingers. You were merely there, a shadow that Scaramouche had hoped to command who had instead appeared to have manipulated him in some way.

Yet he couldn’t get rid of you, not now. You were still needed in some capacity, needed to tell him of the layout of the village, the location of the artifact, you had said it was a mirror. Besides, Scaramouche still wasn’t entirely sure whether or not Signora would want to inspect you, having brought you to Scaramouche’s attention in the first place. It certainly wasn’t out of the realm of possibility; Signora had a habit of going where she pleased, deriving satisfaction from the ability to draw irritation out of her fellow Harbingers. The mere idea of her sauntering in to inspect you brought a sour sort of taste to Scaramouche’s mouth. Now more than ever he loathed his coworker’s antics.

Still something had to be done, though what was still up in the air. Pondering this Scaramouche stood up. At the very least he ought to look after you, though whether this was tied into the emotions that roiled in him or simple logic he wasn’t yet sure of. At the very least there would certainly be more talking if he didn’t look on you than if he did. If there was anything that the Fatui loved it was erratic behavior. After all those who could be swayed into doing illogical things were certainly much easier to manipulate. No, better for him to make an appearance, to say that he was concerned you were on the verge of death which would have ruined his plans. This excuse in mind he stood up, urging his inner thoughts to silence as he walked out of the tent and into the afternoon sun.

The image he was greeted with upon entering your, or rather his, tent was all too reminiscent of how you had first looked in that forest where he had first met you. Face pale, a slight sheen of sweat visible on your brow, slicking your hair against your neck. Though your eyes had almost immediately snapped open upon hearing the voice of the medic they were unfocused, and for a moment it seemed as if you were squinting to make the Harbinger out.

It was a pathetic image of a person, and a mix of disgust, pity, and worry swept over Scaramouche. Silently hoping that he himself would never look so weak he sat on the only chair in the room, dismissing the medic with a wave of his hand, keeping his focus on you the whole time.

“So,” he began when you two were finally alone, “you have been saved from the teeth of death. If I had known the spectacle you were going to cause I would have never asked you to do such a thing.”

“Most visions don’t go that way,” you replied, voice husky and cracked from lack of use. “It was, it was because of the mirror.”

“You mentioned that before. This mirror, I presume it’s what we’re looking for.”

“I won’t look for it anymore,” your voice seemed to tremble slightly. “Even if my vision it was terrible. It warped the space around it, even from the future. If you were to get into the same room as it, were to try and touch it, I, I don’t know.”

“We must get a hold of it. If it is the Tsaritsa’s wish we would sacrifice a whole reserve for it.”

“How can you say such a thing?” you replied, voice quiet. The dispassionate tone sent a lance through Scaramouche, and for a moment he found himself unable to reply, knowing full well the answers he ought to be giving you, the total loyalty demanded by the archon he served.

“Still,” he finally continued, “you have showed me that you’re certainly not strong enough for this. From now on I will no longer provide you information about this mission, nor will I ask you to do anything to bring it about. All I need is a report about what you saw, if you wish you can write it yourself. There are other things that you would be better suited for.”

“What things? I don’t think you understand. I’m the only one who has seen what could happen, what seems very likely to happen based on the fragments that were lined up in front of me. The best outcome I saw was that you were unable to find it. The worst,” you took a deep breath in, “the worst outcome is that the village goes up in flames.”

“Ridiculous,” scoffed Scaramouche, feeling irritation rise up inside of him. “I thought you would be grateful to hear that you wouldn’t be required to look into the future again, instead you insult me, insult the Fatui.”

“I am glad that you aren’t going to try and force me into the future. I don’t think you could truly convince me to anyways, but I’d rather not fight about it. Still, I want to be there, to make sure that this doesn’t happen. I have to know what’s going on.”

“You don’t have to know anything. I don’t owe you information or position, you’re only here at my pleasure.”

“Yes! I am only here because you forced me to be here, only here because you asked me to do something I didn’t wish to do. And now you take the advice I give you and trample all over it! Why, why are you acting so irrational?”

“You’re the one acting irrational!” Scaramouche shot back, feeling a wave of panic shoot through him. The idea that you had managed to somehow divine the odd emotions that he was currently experiencing seemed unlikely, but that you could sense something was out of place was alarming. “I just need the report,” he pressed, feeling his voice raise in irritation, wanting this to be over.

As you stared at him, silence being your reply, the thoughts that whirled inside the Harbinger’s head seemed to get louder. Why was this suddenly so complicated? All Scaramouche’s career he had easily ordered his way around and over people. Deals were only made with other Harbingers, who quickly stepped aside to let the Balladeer do his duty. Never had someone simply refused his orders. The idea that you would do so, would turn down something so easy and to your benefit, was absolutely infuriating.

“I would like to rest a little more,” your voice finally broke through the thick silence. “I’m tired.”

“I would have gone a long time ago had you just listened to me,” Scaramouche pointed out.

“Please,” you shot him a look, “I’m not in the mood. I don’t want to fight either. I really don’t. It’s the last thing I want to do. I wanted to thank you in fact, for bringing me here rather than letting me lie on the ground or trying to slap me awake or something. But, but you just, you never listen. That’s what makes it so hard, what makes all of it so hard. You never listen so how, how are you ever supposed to hear me?”

The plaintive tone of your voice struck another blow, as Scaramouche found himself suddenly, suddenly what? He found himself leaning out of his chair, the urge to walk over to you so intense it seemed to steal the breath from his lungs. He wanted to do something, though what he wasn’t entirely sure of. To apologize? To demand? To scold? To, to console? What a stupid thing to do. Yet all these things he suddenly wanted to do. Of course he couldn’t do nay of these things, couldn’t push you any farther, couldn’t pull himself back. All he could do was lean forward, as if that might in some way convey what he was feeling.

“Is there something you want?” You asked.

“No,” Scaramouche stood up. “There is nothing more I wish to say to you.” What a lie that was.

Making his way over to the tent flap Scaramouche stopped. Quickly, almost in rebellion with his mind, he turned and walked over to you. Taking your wrist he pressed his fingers to it.

“Your pulse is still irregular,” he noted.

Spinning around and walking out of the tent the Harbinger fought the urge to scream at himself, scream for such an irrational act. Yet part of him wasn’t thinking about that at all, was instead marveling at how warm, how comfortable your hand had been in his own.

 It seemed like an hour had passed by the time your pulse managed to right itself, though surely only a few minutes must’ve passed. You held your wrist in your other hand, staring down at it, as if willing the scene that had just passed to reappear before you. What was that, what in Teyvat was that? You couldn’t make heads or tails of it, could barely acknowledge that it had indeed happened at all. Scaramouche, the Harbinger, the man who had only moments before been berating you, that Scaramouche had walked over to you and checked your pulse, held your hand in his, if only for a moment. It seemed laughable, seemed so surreal as to have been a dream, yet it had surely happened.

Of course maybe to him that had been a completely normal thing to do. After all, the medic had told you that your pulse had been irregular. Surely Scaramouche would have noticed that too. Perhaps his self-righteousness had caused him to want to make his own judgement on the state of your health. Still that didn’t stop your heart from leaping into your throat the moment it had happened, hadn’t stopped you from feeling like you were, for very different reasons than before.

You cradled your wrist, still able to feel the slight pressure his fingers had exerted on it, as if he had somehow branded you. His fingers had been surprisingly soft, not at all rough as you had expected it. Perhaps that was only natural, you knew that he sported no sword hilt, and there were no sharpening stones in his tent, meaning in all likelihood he was a catalyst user. Still, it was unexpected. His fingers had been surprisingly gentle, his palm with which he held your hand was soft and warm. You wondered for a moment what it would be like if he were to hold your hand properly. A small part of you wondered if you might yet do so in the future.

Almost immediately you shook yourself violently, willing those thoughts out of your head. Even now the idea of doing something so domestic, so intimate, with Scaramouche seemed odd, almost heretical. He was a Harbinger, a bloodthirsty man, one who evidently had no problem with a village going up in flames. And yet, and yet…

You sighed, lying back down on the bed. You should sleep, you were exhausted. Everything was going fast, oh so fast. You couldn’t keep up, couldn’t keep up with your feelings, with Scaramouche’s logic. All you wanted to do was block it out, to sleep. As you closed your eyes one final coherent thought floated through your head. He had, despite it all, not asked you to do it again.

 You never realized you were dreaming until about halfway through your dreams. Even then you had no power to stop them, they pulled you along, like a riptide, waiting to drag you down into their depths.

You weren’t exactly sure how you got into the village, the all too familiar landscape. It was hot, and your thoughts seemed to melting along with your legs, as you tried to run towards the now blazing rooftops, yet found yourself hardly moving. Yet you kept moving forward, intent on something, though on what you weren’t sure of. Something very important to be sure. If only you could reach it.

Reaching some sort of back you shinnied your way between the burning. The flames licked at your clothes and at you, but you couldn’t feel them, they certainly weren’t any hotter than the rest of you. In fact the only side effect that seemed to be happening was how close the walls were becoming, so much so that you were barely getting through. Still you kept going, and eventually you found yourself out of the seemingly endless tunnel.

There were a few men in the distance, men who seemed to be barreling towards. Unease spiked through you, somehow you knew that whatever happened they shouldn’t catch you. Yet another part of you dismissed them as no important enough. No, this wasn’t how you wanted it to go, there was something else. As you thought that they seemed to suddenly fade away, or perhaps it was that you had suddenly found yourself somewhere else.

Walking down this road that seemed so busy and so desolate you found yourself in field. Not questioning the black sky above you, the fact that there was a field in the middle of a tiny village, you approached a figure in the middle of the field. Somehow you already knew who it would be.

You had never really thought about the space that Scaramouche took up before. He was simply there, a man, a Harbinger, a person. Just there. Now however he seemed all too small, almost puny. His head was turned to the side, so much as to be unnatural. A slight dribble of blood pooled from his mouth, and his eyes stared with the glassy intensity of the dead, the kind of stare that would forever haunt. You seemed to float above him, high, high above. Yet you wanted to lower yourself, to shake him, to see if he was just pretending. Everything felt glassy and distant, like a play that you were part of but not actively participating in. Soon enough he’d pick himself off the ground and start yelling at you. Soon. Yet someone was wailing in the distance, and for once the voice seemed eerily familiar.

 You opened your eyes, at first seeing nothing before the cloth ceiling of the tent finally revealed itself to you. Lying there, not daring to sit up or roll over or do anything, you replayed your dream. Before it had seemed so distant, so disconnected from you. Now however it close, all too close. Your back was sticky with sweat, and the sudden heaving of your chest, cause panic to flood through your mind, revealed how truly shaken you were. You had seen Scaramouche dead before, had seen his fallen frame in your visions. It had been so different then however. Then he had just been a Harbinger, just been a demanding man. Now however he was, something. Something else.

All this time you had worried about your feelings for Scaramouche, worried that they were just some figment of imagination that stemmed from your visions of the future. Perhaps that was partly the truth, perhaps those visions had indeed provided the fuse for your emotions. Yet somehow you had lit them, or more aptly somehow Scaramouche had. The image of him lying there, dead on the ground, filled you with such distress that it seemed liable to drown you. Even if these feelings were somehow made up, the result of some imagined Scaramouche in the future, some need to line yourself up with some possible path, they were still real. Painfully so, if this was a sign of anything.

Finally sick of lying in one position you sat up. Though the tent was opaque enough you could see little bits of light through the slits of the tent, and the slightly warm air had the distinct feeling of it being at least midday. Standing up you made your way, somewhat hesitantly, over to the flap of the tent. You needed to see Scaramouche, if only to try and convince him again not to go through with such a ridiculous plan. You needed to make sure that your dream didn’t become a reality.

Walking through the tented hallway you quickly ran into the same medic as before, this time pushing a tray with food on it.

“Oh good you’re up,” he said, voice slightly bored. “Maybe you’ll be able to leave tomorrow then.”

“I need to talk to Scaramouche,” you said, words tumbling out and running into one another. “It’s something of the greatest urgency.”

“I’m sorry but my lord isn’t here.”

“Isn’t here? Then, he…”

“He went off on a mission, he said if you were ready to leave before he came back to move you back into your tent tomorrow and to wait until he returned for further instructions.”

“He’s gone?”

“Yes.” The medic replied, seemingly slightly impatient.

Turning around you fell right back onto the bed. Ruining the hospital corners you ripped the blanket over your head, willing it to block out all the light. You needed to get out, you needed to go find him. Somehow you knew it wouldn’t be that easy. Even if you wanted to you doubted the medics would cross Scaramouche’s orders to keep you here until tomorrow. Even more so you had no information on what exactly he had done, though you were almost positive that he had gone to the village. Even if he hadn’t though you had to go check, go make sure. What he was doing was madness, running into a situation without fully comprehending it, what in Teyvat was he thinking?

Anxiety welled up inside you, consuming any and all thoughts you might’ve had. In their place was fear, pure distilled fear. Fear for the Harbinger that you didn’t want to die, and fear for the future that might not come to pass after all.

[namjooningelsewhere]

Run Away With Me!!

Pairing : Jungkook x reader

Rating : 18+

Warning- Bloodshed, Killing, Angst, Mentions of killing.

Word count- 1292

Summary- You had narrowed escaped death as a mafias daughter, You had been saved by your brother who died to save you from the death by the rival and sent you out of that world. You lived a simple life until the purple headed stranger whose life you had saved accidently turns out to be the most beautiful accident of your life.

Life had been very unpredictable lately, You worked as a florist in a small yet peaceful village by the sea. It had been a regular day at shop, normal familiar faces who were almost same through out the year until this night.

This night changed very thing for you. You belonged to a mafia family, a ruthless one at that. So when your father killed a member, His family ended up anhilating your entire family. Your brother had managed to make you escape safely while he was being shot.

You managed to build your life with whatever had left and led a comfortable life by saving the rest of the money and investing some. It was curve that life had thrown at you and you were going to make the most of it, at least for your family who had still let you out safe while they died.

That night happened to be like another night, You closed down the shop and started walking home with earphones plugged in your ears as you walked a bit you did not realize about the scene happening right infront of you.

You were so engrossed looking down, You did not look at the situation right infront of your eyes. You almost lost your balance when you hit yourself at something broad. You looked up to see a shabbily dressed man holding a gun. A mother fucking gun.

You had grown up to these toys so it did not panic you even one ounce at the weapon. It pissed off the man with it, "Doesn't this scare you bitch? Got a brave ass right there huh?" He asked almost shoving the gun at your face.

"Hey Davis, we got a brat right here, He signaled the other four to come to him. "She looks delicious man, what say why don't we tame the brat in her today? One of the spewed. It took everything in you to not let go yourself to snap these rats head but since you had left the violence behind you had not preferred going down the line.

Being the youngest you were trained to handle people, weapons', even explosives for that matter and you would never want to hurt anybody on purpose because you were aware of the monster that lied deep beneath your skin, Raging for blood, Raging for red.

The mans pull at your waist jerked you to the other side and made you loose balance you fell on your knees besides a man who had hands tied, looked like they had trashed him but what caught your attention was the shit eating grin he had plastered on his face.

You somehow mirrored the smirk that he had, but you just did not want to show. You were yanked by the men to your feet, That was it. One more touch and you were going to be walking over there dead bodies. "Nice ass you got there slut, Wanna see how it looks while fuck it." The other member said spanking you, "I dare you to touch me again, You grinned. The red was out and you had snapped.

"Look at the guts the slut has." the man with the gun said. He raise his hand to spank you again, But before he could you kicked free from the clutches and dodged the gun from the mans hand and shot him straight for the head, doing the same with the rest of the four.

That's it, Five dead bodies lying right down to your feet, One stupidly grinning man who had somehow hot attractive purple hair was your story for the night. You looked at him questioningly and the grin became even more wider. "Stop before i blow that purple head of yours. You say.

I knew you were a tigress the moment i saw the glean of danger in your eyes, I knew you had a monster hiding right in there. He smiled. You freed his hands and looked at the scratches on that tattooed hands which looked even intense with those tattoos. "You screwed them over?" you asked curiously. "Yeah something like that he said.

You watched around the place and found the building right above you had CCTV and so did the building in the front and also the restaurant marking your different angles. "They belong to a gang right?" You asked poking them with your legs. "Yes they do, He said curtly. "And now they would think i am involved with you since i became a knight in shining armor when you were held captive?" "Most Likely" He said amused at how fast you were putting the pieces together.

You shot both the cameras and turned towards him, "What do you think they will still come back after me?" "Us" He corrected. "they will think us as a team, Unfortunately you are tangled inn this mess." He expected a much bigger reaction than a plain hmm from you to be honest but it did not scare you, instead you went autopilot to think of an escape plan.

You are a gangster aren't you?" He asked back with that shit eating grin on his face. No sister of mafia you said." He looked at you like a ghost but kept walking like nothing. "So your father is going to protect you?" He asked. Well he did by letting me out before he was killed." you sigh.

What am i going to do next?" You sigh in irritation. I might have the answer to that. But lets get hold of some clothes, your passport, My bike and stuff and then il tell you the way out. He snorted. "you agreed picked up his clothes and you got yours from your apartment.

Life seemed to be returning in place with the events of the night but nothing had ever been normal in your life. You waited while the man got his bike, A black bike stopped right infront of you, It was him alright. "Jungkook" He said moving his hand ahead for a handshake. "Eva" you said

About the plan, He said running his hand back of the head, "You now i have something solid in mind considering you are stuck with my name and also as an ally, Why don't we make it real? He said. "As in?

" I asked. "Run away with me! He said with something intense but i couldn't pinpoint it. The offer sounded exciting and seemed like you were meant to live like this.

After six months of that spin, you spent time running living out of a suitcase and travelling the world like a action movie with Jungkook by your side. There were sparks and Jungkook happened to be the best sex you ever had, He had been more of a companion then an ally. But you loved every ounce of it.

"Jeon Jungkook and Jeon Ara? Seriously JK? What are we siblings?" You scoffed. He spat the water he had been sipping with an amused face. I would highly refrain from that considering the things we were doing this morning." He grinned. "Asshole" You smacked his head before deciding on the next destination.

Your life with him was an action movie but there was no other way you'd rather want it to be.

[godofsexdrugsandrocknroll]

Ruby giving her boyfriend Jaune the best lapdance and blowjob of his life

Ruby, Jaune decided, did not have the biggest tits out there. They were at best a modest B-cup, perky and easily dwarfed with one of his hands and capped with rosy pink nipples that were sized almost perfectly to each tear dropped shaped breast.

That being said, when they were presented to him as they were now, right before his face and continuously being pressed towards his mouth, pointed tips tracing a line across his lips or pulled back as Ruby arched away from him, strained against her lithely muscled form? It was a fresh reminder that a girl didn’t need an enormous pair to be the hottest thing in the world.

“Fuck, Ruby,” he managed to groan out as her hand was clasped on the back of his neck. Ruby herself with her head back, her face out of sight with her chest pushed forward but maddeningly out of reach. She was all but on his lap, her bare thighs over his own and her rear between his spread legs. Where Jaune wore only a pair of dark green boxer briefs, Ruby wore a pair of silk panties the color of wine, with a small black bow over her crotch.

Jaune quickly lost sight of the flat abdominals and the way the silk clung to her groin, pale skin meeting the expensive panties as she leaned forward, thighs leaving his as she stood a bit with her shoulders slowly rising and falling and her silver eyes locked on his face, his lips. Her pupils were blown with obvious lust and her red tipped inky black hair was a sexy disarray as her small mouth with her full lips curved into a smile and just as Jaune caught the faint smell of a flowery fragrance, Ruby’s smile turned to a smirk.

“Mmm, good boys get rewards, Jaune,” was all she muttered, nearly lost amongst the thumping bass of the R&B playlist Ruby chose for the occasion. Jaune leaned forward eagerly and almost groaned when Ruby moved. The desire to do so was lost however as Ruby’s left thigh brushed against his bare chest and before Jaune knew what was happening, the little reaper’s not-so-little ass was suddenly on his lap.

Jauned gaped at the sight, wine colored silk stretching across a behind that was perfectly shaped on Ruby’s slight but no less curvy hips. Where one of Jaune’s very few ex’s had a slight, almost boyish curve to her hips - like the curve of a tall, thin vase - Ruby’s looked hand drawn for a comic book heroine, starting at a petite waist and then blowing out into a small hourglass. Ruby’s ass might not have been huge (yet, he thought) it sat high and tight on firm, powerful thighs and more than anything else, jutted out to the point where even standing straight up it looked as if Ruby was purposely sticking it out.

Combined with her level of fitness and the pale booty looked carved from stone, full and each meaty cheek sharply defined. The only part of Ruby’s curves that Jaune couldn’t quite cover with a hand, the only part that would squish so delightfully between his fingers. Right now the silk rode up in the space between her cheeks, pale flesh peeking out as Ruby’s hips undulated forward, Ruby gazing back at him with a look that almost seemed entirely absent of complex thought before her hands left the armrests of the chair and she leaned forward, her ass now flush against his abs, Jaune moaning at the absolute heat of Ruby’s cunt that now was pressed to his hardened, trapped cock.

The next few minutes were pure torture, especially as the song went from the slower, bassier twenty year old hit to something bouncier. Ruby went from grounding her crotch into his, little moans escaping her and then sitting up straight, moving her hips in circles with his cock trapped between her cheeks and looking down at him as he looked back at her in obvious need. She bounced slightly as if riding him with his dick throbbing at every bit of contact.

She all but sat on him, his abs feeling the first spurt of hot precum as Ruby’s plump cheeks trapped him, the space between them a perfect channel to fit his prick and leaned over her shoulder, pressing her lips against his but pulling back and before he could even think to chase her lips with his own, covered his mouth and dominated the entire exchange before suddenly leaning so far forward that all Jaune could see was the faint shape of her spine and his girlfriends bottom, her panties pulled so far into her crack that there was more pale, unblemished ass meat than there was silk.

She twirled her hips slightly before pulled up, arching her back and rubbing along his length as Jaune hissed at the rough feeling of his briefs scraping against his sensitive, hot cockflesh and then stepped forward, leaving him wishing for it as Ruby ran the soft firmness of her behind up his abs, down slowly before stopping.

Popping her hips to a tighter, jumpier beat and lifting a single, small and bare foot and placing it on his knee before briefly sashaying back and forth, hands running up her body, clearly cupping breasts he could no longer see and smoothly moving down her stomach. Jaune could only stare at the groove line in her back, the way her silk panties rode up and how her hips shifted minutely before she was back on both feet and pushing his legs apart with a soft kick and sitting between them and squirming against his form, the mounds of meat that made up her butt gently pressed against a pair of fat, loaded balls and his cock, harder than he felt it ever had been before and making such little moves that Jaune felt every jolt of pleasure acutely.

Then the song shifted into something closer to rap than R&B, Ruby had smothered his groin in between her twin bubbles, stood so he could admire the sight briefly and making each cheek pop up, then down with her hands on her head and making equal display of her legs - it finally happened. Ruby’s hands left the top of her head, traveled down her body before reaching her panties and in a move that was unequivocally female, slipped her panties off right as she bent forward.

Her ass going from standing to bent over, two full and plump pale moons presented to Jaune, whose breath had hitched in his throat, barely aware of the slightest of jiggles as Ruby stepped out of her panties as all he could suddenly see was his girlfriends ass, her dark pink anus as her cheeks separated beneath his hands, Jaune groaning with desire as he played with the pliable cheeks, forcing them apart when the fine muscle of his girlfriend demanded they meet in the middle. It was too short as despite a throaty sound, Ruby turned around.

Before Jaune could do more than stare at the entirely bare mound above a small, glistening slit of irresistable pink, at how her thighs were full enough to whisper off of each other Ruby was suddenly on her knees and pulling his briefs down with her fingers for only a split second, before her pearly white teeth took the center of the elastic and Jaune stared, wide eyed and lifting his rear as Ruby removed them entirely before snapping her head to the side and tossing them away.

“H-holy shit, Rubes, what’s gotten into you Toooohhhooooo-FUCK!”

Jaune’s head snapped back as Ruby had simply locked eyes with him, wrapped his cock in her soft hand and then proceeded to, with a harsh GLURK! of a noise, swallow 6 and a half inches of cock in one swift movement.

“Shit, b-brothers, Ruby, that’s--” he gasped, the entirety of his dick inside his usually cute girlfriends hot, moist hole. There was nothing cute about Ruby now though, no, as far as Jaune was considered as she twisted her head back and forth with saliva rapidly coating his throbbing manhood, Ruby was smoking fucking hot. His hand went to her hair, which she batted away and almost in the same movement her head pulled back until only his fat crown was in her mouth, the more thick-than-long shaft glistening slightly.

Then down, the entire way until he felt the faint kiss of her lips on his groin, his sack. Ruby took him in at what looked like an easy, sedate pace even as Jaune wiggled in his seat, gasping again and muttering curses as he looked down at a pair of smug, silver eyes that burned their gaze onto him and then Jaune grunted, shouting again as Ruby had less than half of him in her mouth, but her small hand massaged the wet skin of his cock until Jaune moaned out and when he did, she was no longer suckling at his mushroomhead, the upper half of his shaft, but repeatedly pushing her tongue on his sensitive dick rather than leaving it still.

Jaune’s grip on the armrests grew tighter and for several seconds, he closed his eyes trying to stave off the inevitable deluge of jizz he was going to fire into the fiend sucking, licking and fondling at his manhood before the fiend herself moaned and he jerked, hard, in the chair and his eyes shot open. At this point Ruby only had the head of his meat in her mouth, but between her pursed lips teasing at the crown and the tongue that was writhing, twisting against his helmet polishing it with spit and her hand keeping a steady pace, he knew he wasn’t going to last.

Jaune had received blowjobs before. From the skinny ex back home who’d happily slapped her cheek with his dick, a dark brown eye staring up at him as he erupted, painting the left side of her somewhat longish face in pure white and covering her eye with a thick, gooey strand while her cheek was all but covered in a puddle of semen. To another girl from the village, who’d moved mechanically but still brought him off due to the intense look in her hazel eyes, his jizz painting her thighs, the hem of her jean shorts.

And the only other blowjob he’d ever received a few months before he and Ruby had become official, from a girl with auburn hair, freckles and brownish-orange eyes who’d pulled back and covered his tip with her palm and he’d oozed out of her palm, gasping at the sudden change in sensation.

Despite only dating for a while now, Ruby was better. Much better. And this blowjob in particular was beyond anything Jaune had ever imagined. Ruby more than content to constantly push the boundaries as she suddenly swallowed him whole and pulled back equally quick about nine times before pulling back, kissing his fat head and a small, reddish-pink tongue peaked out to lash spit over his slit and then kissed the sensitive spot with pursed lips several times in quick succession. Jaune groaned, his body rigid as his breathing grew faster.

“Look at me,” and Jaune did, the low and breathy tone demanding his attention as Ruby’s lips glided down one side of his shaft as her palm - all that was pressed against him - moved along the other side. Ruby’s lips met the end of his length.

“Dammit, Ruby, dammit!” She was kissing the base of the right side of his shaft, her tongue suddenly shooting out to lick the undercarriage, traveling along his balls and his testicle jolted and Ruby murmured something incomprehensible and Jaune couldn’t help it. He reached out and cupped the back of her head as his right nut was in her mouth to no complaint, his ball pulled from its twin in a lewd liplock and her tongue resting there, warm saliva staining the hairless skin.

If you’d asked him seven months ago if he’d ever shave his pubes, his balls, Jaune would have laughed. As Ruby ‘mmm’d’ around his ball, Jaune knew no matter what life threw at him from now on he was going to be soft and smooth down there for the rest of his life.

“PWUAH!!” Jaune almost whimpered as one of his sperm factories left Ruby’s mouth and then did whimper as she kissed it, twice, before kissing the underside of his shaft and her lips pressed the spit and pre-slicked head against his abs. Her palm covered his cockhead suddenly as her lips ghosted against him and with a sound that would’ve made him laugh any other time (‘AHMMM!’), felt his fingers clench slightly at Ruby’s short hair and his eyes rolled back as Ruby paid his remaining testicle attention, capturing it briefly and barely moved her tongue as she coated it.

“Oh my gods, yes, ye-es” was all he managed, voice cracking and all, as Ruby pressed her nose against his shaft as she kissed each ball, his sack and then opened her mouth slightly, lips not quite covering the bottom of the shaft but pulling her head up, her tongue leaving a line of spit before his cock was back in her mouth.

The hand on his balls cupped him, fondled him lightly as Ruby suddenly bobbed  forward far faster, to the point where Jaune saw less Ruby Rose his girlfriend and more Ruby Rose, a cock hungry vacuum that resembled more a porn star than anything else with her messy, but immaculate cocksucking. Jaune tried to hold it off, the past ten minutes of his life far exceeded anything that came before it, but Ruby’s tight seal around his dick and how she somehow managed to control her tongue at the same time, pressing tightly against his smooth shaft. She bobbed up and down, only occasionally making eye contact as she focused on pleasuring him and Jaune could feel it, his orgasm creeping up on him as he breathed quickly.

There was a slick popping noise and her hand, which had gradually increased in speed, was making nasty sounds as flesh-on-spit-soaked-flesh occurred in the form of a handjob, Ruby making sure to bring either side of her palm up and down his cockhead as she breathed.

“Fuck, your balls feel so full, baby,” she muttered and Jaune choked silently as her other palm caressed him. Her eyes were on him then even as her hand was bordering on a blur.

“So, so fucking full,” louder this time, “and I bet they really, really wanna shoot their big, yummy loads all over this slut’s pretty little face. Don’t--”

Jaune really didn’t hear what else Ruby said even if he could figure it was something insanely hot. The single best blowjob he’d ever received was one thing, but Ruby calling herself a slut? When she was normally just hot, hot sounds and maybe a word or two?

Between that, the eyes focused on him and how close his tip was to those cock worshiping lips in spite of the furious jacking off he was getting, as Ruby herself was talking? Jaune exploded, his breath whooshing out of him and he gasped even as he stared with unblinking eyes at a massive streak of white that went from Ruby’s upper lip to above her right eyebrow, a fat glob of jizz touching her hairline.

The second streaked across her nose and she reacted with wide eyes, a bit of the third splatting against her plump lower lip before Jaune let out a strangled sound as the heat of her wet mouth overtook him, his blood rushing in his ears and drowning out all other sound. He might’ve cursed as Ruby moved her tongue beneath his cock, but he couldn’t tell. His eyes closed to Ruby’s eyes on him, unwillingly, as he produced more cum than he ever had in his young life, unloading in his girlfriends mouth even as she just. Didn’t. Stop.

She swallowed and swallowed, then she coughed and Jaune felt relief, finally, as the massive load finally ended by painting her cheek, across her nose and then plopped heartily onto her right eye again, the silver orb closing as she coughed slightly.

Jaune sat for what felt like minutes then, dick remaining at half mast despite the intensity of his cumshot and Ruby smirked back up at him. She lost the hungry, slutty, the so-hot-she-had-to-be-a-demon-from-hell look somewhat because of it but there was something equally appealing about the almost impish look on her cum splattered features.

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” she replied and Jaune laughed. It was brief as he felt his heart rate finally lower itself and he was still breathing somewhat heavily, but it had the right effect. Ruby smirked again, looking proud of herself and then she hummed. And smooched his shiny cockhead, licked it and Jaune felt a spike of what could only be described as painful pleasure shoot up his dick, the process happening again as with an all too innocent sound (‘aaaa~aaaah!’) the flat of her tongue slipped upwards on his cockhead and then as her tongue disappeared back into her mouth, kissed him again.

“Fff-fugh, FUCK!”

“Oops. Too much?”

Jaune shuddered, noticing Ruby as she was finally sitting straight up before him. Jaune took in the sight, at how her tits sat perfectly on her chest and that Ruby was on her knees, which were close together, and likely sitting on her haunches.

He almost regretted not being able to see the amazing sight of Ruby’s perfectly round ass cheeks parked on her heels since her ass never failed to look good enough to eat in that position, before the he exhaled and sunk into his seat as exhaustion settled in. He had no idea what the deal was with Ruby today but the lapdance had not been the beginning of his raging boner, but the end. The fact that he didn’t blow his load while being teased with the ‘Rubooty’ as he usually referred to it as, was a miracle.

He almost laughed at himself. Trade a blowjob that mindblowing for a hot pose? He shook his head and noticed Ruby staring him in the eye, a heavy dollop of Arc spunk on her finger which she proceeded to lick up with an appreciative sound. His cock briefly twitched but he was tapped out.

“What’s gotten in to you today?”

“Weeell...” she trailed off suggestively, looking pointedly at his soft and sensitive dick, the still shiny but drying helmet. Then she shrugged. “That’s for me to know and you,” leaning forward, giving his cock a sniff before looking at him through her lashes, “to wonder all night about.”

“Rubes...”

“Pffff, c’mon vomit boy,” she offered teasingly, “it’s nothing big. Just...proving a point.”

An eyebrow rose. “Huh?”

Well that was smooth, Jaune thought to himself even as Ruby spoke.

“Proving a point, staking my claim, announcing my superiority over Mt. Arc itself, proving Ruby Rose is the best at everything, showing my boyfriend how much I love him, markingmyterritoryfromwaytoobustyMistralians, sucking my man a fat one, what’s it matter?”

Jaune blinked. “What was that last one?”

“Sucking you a fat one! It’s slang!” was her all too perky reply.

“No, the other one.”

“That I love you and the best way of showing that love was getting nasty on your man meat?”

“I-I...nevermind,” he muttered, not really caring. Of course he was curious, he was pretty certain he’d heard something about ‘marking’ and ‘aliens’ but she spoke too quickly and the world was still kind of fuzzy. Ruby smiled brightly then, stood up and Jaune wished he hadn’t been tormented with his too-sexy-for-her-own-good girlfriend’s body today, because her cum streaked face definitely deserved to twist in the same kind of pleasure his just did but teenage boy or not, Ruby had just sucked the life out of him and didn’t even seem to think about her own pleasure. Then was a giggle and Ruby was side eying him.

“Don’t worry about it, you can make me scream your name tomorrow.”

Then she leaned in close and Jaune focused on playful, happy, oddly satisfied and definitely a little bit smug silver eyes.

“Cause I’m pretty happy with you like this.”

“Gods your fucking hot as fuck when you’re confident.”

“Mmm, then let me tell you you’re gonna love the new me.”

“Love all of you, Rubes.”

Beneath the jizz, she blushed but her happy features remained.

“Get on the bed, I definitely earned quality sleepytime snuggles with that!”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Ma’am?”

“I can change--”

“Oh no. I like it. Bed now. Just gotta clean up your mess.”

“Uh...”

A snort. “This is a mess I like cleaning up, Jaune.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------ 

From here on out, if I write smut (which I’m undecided on; I am enjoying keeping them a bit shorter) I’m going to write it in story format. Short or long, doesn’t matter which. I’ll also likely experiment with different styles and overall themes.

Also, if you prefer a broader layout when you’re reading smut, I now have an AO3 (at the suggestion of idrownfishes0) under GodofSexDrugsandRocknRoll where I’m archiving anything with explicit content.

[foodieforthoughts]

Sand and Stars - Chapter Six

Series Summary: After the water pump being blown up, the insurgents in Baqubah are taking a hold of the food supply to the village. Camp Warhorse is in dire need of reinforcements. It has been eight months of submitting countless requests when the High Command commissions Sergeant Olivia Ross to take her group of men and women and help Captain Syverson and his team to restore a semblance of normalcy. But with the war raging, does it get two hearts closer too?

Pairing: Captain Syverson x OFC x OMC

Word Count: 2.4k

Warnings: 18+, fluff, implied smut, angst, mentions of war, military technicalities

A/N: We are back to Captain Sy and Sgt Liv and they are adorable together. But! It’s not always sunshine and rainbows, right? A big thank you to @thelastsock​ for being the best beta ever!

<Chapter Five

Title: Captain Six

“We have support from the locals. Not all of them. But plenty.”

Sy nodded in understanding as Liv informed him about their recent advancements with the villagers. She was dressed in her fatigues, her hair neatly tied in a bun and standing with her hands behind her back. She stood confidently beside Sy’s Lieutenant, the soft city girl disappearing under the strong demeanor of a soldier.

“They want to stay hidden for the time being. But they trust us.” Pepps added, his gloved hands holding the straps of his vest.

“It won’t turn out like the teacher from last year?” Sy asked, glancing from Pepps to Olivia. He remembered the horrible incident where the one person who had decided to help them had been charred to death. He had reached the school to witness a wailing woman and spectators watching as the burnt corpse was being taken to shelter by his brother. The deceased’s wife was shouting curses at them which still to this day kept ringing in Sy’s ears.

“Not currently.” The confidence in Liv’s voice had faltered, her tone dropping an octave. She looked at Pepps nervously with pursed lips.

The Captain let out a sigh. He rubbed his beard and brought his arms up to cross them over his chest. Glancing at the soldiers standing in front of him, he leaned back on his chair. “We’ll cross that bridge when we get there.”

Pepps picked up his gun from the chair and left the office, throwing a nod towards the Captain. Sy watched his Lieutenant walk out the door, leaving only him and Liv in the office. Away from prying eyes, Liv relaxed her shoulders and stood at ease. Bringing her hand to her mouth, she yawned while looking at Sy from the corner of her eyes.

An amused smile crept up on Sy’s bearded face. “Tired?”

Dragging another yawn out of her mouth, Liv smiled lazily at him. “I have been up since…I don’t know… Yesterday? Noon?”

“You had the night shift.” Sy remarked. He had noticed her posted at the barracks with Sloan as he was returning back to his room. She had been animatedly describing something to her comrade, laughing as Sloan had snorted in return.

“I could really take a nice massage.” She rubbed her neck while rolling her shoulders.

Sy smiled at his girl. He was absolutely enamored with the red-haired, gun wielding beauty. A week ago, he had finally kissed her tantalizing lips after agonizing over the thought for so long. He had felt his heart swell, hypothetical butterflies fluttering in his belly. She had tasted sweet; her soft supple lips had glided perfectly against his. The dipping sun had casted a soft glow on her face, making her hair shine like tendrils of lustrous copper.

“Come here.” He commanded with a flick of his hand. Liv raised an eyebrow at him with her hand resting on her neck. Sy tilted his head with a smile as he waited for Liv to move. With a moment of hesitation, she took slow steps towards him. In the week that had followed after their first kiss, they had stolen some more chaste kisses around the camp. Both of them, without voicing their choices, had resorted to keep their budding relationship on the down low. Even if two of their own Sergeants were parading around, openly declaring their love for each other, Sy and Liv could not risk that kind of behavior. They were leaders of their units after all. As much as Sy would love to kiss Liv out in the open, there was a decorum to maintain and Liv agreed.

“Close the door first.” Sy nearly chuckled as Liv’s eyes widened and she hurried towards the worn-out wooden door to his office. Swiftly shutting it close, Liv walked back to him. Sy glanced at her expectant eyes looking down at him. He spread his legs out on the chair and opened his arms, inviting her to sit on his lap.

Liv shook her head at him, rolling her eyes and gracing him with her beautiful smile before climbing on his lap. She straddled him, her hands circling his neck as Sy looked into her golden orbs. He placed a peck on her lips and brought his hands up behind her to work on her tensed shoulders. He pressed down gently on her aching muscles, which elicited a low moan from her. The mellifluous undertone of her voice stirred an arousal in his loins, her thighs rubbing against his crotch not making it any better.

“Now where would you get your massage back home?” He asked, distracting himself with releasing the taut muscles of their tension.

“There’s this place in Tribeca that I frequent when I am on leave.”

Sy felt Liv’s body ease against his as he kneaded his way through her back. He watched as she closed her eyes, reveling in the feeling of relaxation. Her warm breath washed over his face as Liv let out appreciative mewls as he rubbed the aching spot behind her neck. She clutched his t-shirt tightly in her hands as he increased the pressure on the sore spot. Her hips jerked forward, rubbing against his groin making Sy take in a sharp breath.

“Easy there, little birdie.” Sy breathed out. He brought one hand on her cheek, stroking his thumb over her cheekbone and making her open her eyes to look at him. A glint of mischief danced in her whiskey-colored eyes matched by the quirk of her lips. She rocked her hips lightly against his whilst bringing her hand to caress the soft hairs at the nape of his neck.

A shuddering breath escaped Sy’s lips as Liv’s crotch rubbed against his waking arousal. He brought both of his hands down to her hips, grabbing them tightly and stilling her from performing her ministrations on him. Her lips drew out in a pout, her bottom lip sticking out in disapproval.

Sy would have wanted nothing but to take her in his office. Fleeting thoughts about her sensuous, naked body sprawled beneath him had made him jerk off in the privacy of his room. Imaginations had run particularly wild when two nights ago, Sy had pulled Liv into the empty gym hall in the dead of the night. He had pushed her against the wall, his hands on either side of her head, capturing her in place. He was addicted to the feel of her hands on his chest, her lips on his and the breathy moans she elicited. Their chaste kisses had turned to a steamy make-out with tongue rolling against each other, hands grabbing at every inch of their bodies. He had kissed down her neck, pulling her shirt aside to run his warm tongue over her collarbone while Liv had palmed him over his shorts.

Sy knew they would have crossed the line if it wouldn’t have been for the night patrolling unit to come running down the stairs, just outside the gym.

“I think I should retire to my quarters.” Liv commented, bringing her head to rest on his shoulder. “I need a long night’s sleep.” She muttered against his skin, yawning again.

Sy ran his hand soothingly over her back. He held her close to his body, listening to her breathing as she drifted in and out of sleep. He was aware she was overworked. Besides running their main objective of fetching the food truck, she had also immersed herself in the work of the Special Forces. Liv made sure to go out to the village and speak to the inhabitants with Sy’s men, trying to understand their problems and sympathizing with them. To add to her schedule, Sy and Liv woke up early most mornings to catch the sunrise whilst drinking tea. It was like a routine for them and Sy wasn’t complaining. Although everything was sunshine and roses for them at the moment, he also wanted her to open up to him.

Sy had spilled about his entire life in front of her. He did not want to keep secrets from her, and he wanted to know hers. His life was like an open book to her now but all he could do was read the title of hers. Liv was a closed off person, hiding behind snarky comebacks and friendly banter. Sy had tried asking about her life back home, but all he could gather was that she had a younger brother and her parents, all residing in New York.

He listened to her snore lightly as her arms fell down from around his neck. She felt feather light against his body, her lean thighs resting effortlessly over his thick ones. He couldn’t let her fall asleep on his lap for the night, but he decided to let her take a quick nap for a few minutes.

“You are so comfortable.” She mumbled after a few minutes. “Like a life-size teddy bear.”

Sy chuckled softly. Liv turned her face on his shoulder and started peppering kisses along Sy’s neck. He breathed in slowly, goosebumps rising on his arms. His shoulders were circled by Liv’s arms again, her hands resting lightly at the back of his neck. She left a wet trail of kisses from under his earlobe to the crook of his neck. Sy closed his eyes as desire stirred within him. He felt her breasts press against his chest as Liv arched her back while blowing her hot breath on his warm skin.

“Liv,” he drawled her name out. His hands rested on her waist pulling her closer to him.

Sy wanted to give his all to her. He wanted her to be his in ways more than one. But he knew so little about her. He wanted to connect to her, mind and body. Sy understood he was seen as someone who would sleep around, whoring his way around town. He was anything but.

“I don’t know anything about you.” He whispered out loud stilling Olivia in his arms.

She pushed herself away from him to stare at him. “What do you mean?”

Sy took a deep breath. He knew he would sound like an insistent, clingy boyfriend if he barraged her with questions about her life. Maybe it was too soon for them, but he couldn’t help it. He wanted to know her.

“I don’t know where you live and I’m not talking about the city.” He adds as her mouth opens to interject. “What about your family? Your friends? Your life outside the army?”

“Where is this coming from?” She tilted her head to the side and rested her hands on his chest.

“I told you about my first time in high school and so many embarrassing childhood memories. Things I haven’t told anyone before. Things people don’t expect me to remember.” He shook his head at himself, overwhelmed by his own vulnerability.

Olivia’s eyes softened as he blabbered about himself. She placed a hand on his cheek, gently rubbing his soft beard. “I feel honored to know such private details about your life. I’m not hiding anything.” He leaned against her hand, nodding in agreement. “Okay, so, I live in Brooklyn, not with my family. I have a whole of two friends outside the army and one distant cousin in Minneapolis. Schmidt is my best friend, as you must have noticed, and I didn’t go to college because I joined the army right after I graduated from high school.”

“You didn’t go to college?”

“Did you?” Her eyes widened at him.

Sy rubbed the back of his neck and adjusted in his seat. “I have a degree in political science.” He watched Liv’s mouth drop open and she blinked several times.

“Wow. You just got a whole lot sexier, Captain Syverson.” She leaned in to plant a kiss on his lips. “Lot more intelligent than silly me.”

Sy laughed at her silliness. He placed both of his hands on her cheeks and gazed at her, his eyes tracing every details of her face. His thumb grazed over her lips. He felt content with the new information about her life, but a particular question kept nagging him. “Were you with anyone before me?”

He watched as she shifted awkwardly on his lap. Her eyes dropped down to focus on his chest, her mouth pressing into a thin line. He looked at her with expectant eyes practically hearing the wheels turning in her mind.

“Everyone has a past.” She said, the mirth in her voice disappearing with her finger twisting in his t-shirt. “Let’s just say, for now, I shouldn’t have messed with someone’s feelings and I’ll regret it for the rest of my life.”

Sy could see she was uncomfortable talking about it. She refused to look him in the eye while she spoke, fixating on tracing circles on his chest instead. He brought his finger under her chin to make her look up. Her eyes held veiled emotions, silently pleading him to not coax her into talking about it any further. He smiled at her softly, nudging her nose with his.

“Okay.” He whispered, pecking her lips reassuringly. “Now you should go to bed. Food truck retrieval tomorrow.”

Sy let Liv climb off his lap, an emptiness filling his being at the loss of warmth from her body. He raked his gaze over the curve of her body as she stretched her arms above her head.

“See you in the morning?” She asked, walking towards the door. Her hand rested on the latch, waiting for his answer.

Sy nodded at her, watching as she opened the door and walked out into the corridor. The bustling sounds of the camp greeted his ears, bringing him back to the present, away from the cocoon he had with Liv.

That was twenty hours ago. The scorching desert heat beat down on him as they hurriedly drove to Camp Warhorse. Sy ached for those hours now. He wanted nothing more than to share more about her life. Engulf himself in her presence again. Comms blaring, commands coming from every direction. The SOS message from Echo team assigned to the food truck still rang in his ears.

"Chopper hit. We're under attack."

Sy’s heart was beating in his chest, thumping against his ribcage. Their engines roared as he pressed down on the accelerator, blowing sand as his tires skidded along the dirt road.

Blood chilled in his veins when the second message came through, clear in the chaos.

"Repeat, under attack. 3 wounded. 1 KIA."

Chapter Seven>

🌟 Series Masterlist 🌟

[skywalkerfanatic]

Skywalkers on the Run AU

Luke blows their cover part 1/2

Part 1/2 of the “Luke blows their cover” Skywalkers on the Run AU.

This was originally suppose to be a one-shot for my Skywalkers on the Run AU but it ended up being a lot more lengthy than I intended so I split it up. The second part will be posted shortly however, I’ve already written it and just need to finalize the draft! 

Skywalkers on the Run ideology: Skywalkers on the Run is an AU that takes place following ROTS. In this AU Anakin flee’s with Padme and never has his confrontation with Obi-Wan. This story covers the time-line adventures of the Skywalker’s as they go on the run from the empire.

Summary: Eight years after the fall of the Republic, Anakin Skywalker finds himself hiding out on Jakku with his family. With a sick Leia at home, Padme sends Anakin and Luke out to run errands and buy medical herbs. Things are going rather smoothly until Anakin gets word that the empire is making a surprise visit to the planet, and Luke comes head-to-head with the empire itself.

_______________________________________________________________________

Hood up, head down. That was the first rule of how to go unnoticed when your a well-known fugitive on the run.

  He'd bounced from planet-to-planet in the eight years that the republic had fallen. He'd been all across the galaxy. No matter where he went, no matter how far he ran, the empire always found him. In the beginning it'd been his own fault for their frequent run-ins. He'd never been a fugitive before, he didn't understand how careful you had to be to live life as a criminal.

  He learned, eventually. Learned how to cover his tracks and blend into crowds. Before all of this, he was the type who's presence immediately demanded attention when he walked into a room. Now, he had learned to mask all of that.

  Now their run-ins were mostly his wife's fault. She was helping to start a rebellion. Sometimes her ship got tracked. It worried him for her safety and the safety of their children, but he would never tell her to stop. She had given up everything to be with him. She lived a life on the run because of him. He could see that this rebellion brought that fire and passion that she held so strongly in her time in the senate. He could not take that from her too.

Where were they now anyways, another backwater planet in the outer rim? Jakku, maybe. It didn't matter much anymore. All these planets were the same in the only thing that mattered to him.

Lawlessness.

It wasn't so much that the empire had no control over planets like Jakku, they had the entire galaxy gridlocked. It was more that planets like Jakku were so insignificant to the empire that fugitives like him ran rampant here. Jakku had no resources or power that the empire saw beneficial. Outside of their periodic "wellness" checks, they basically left them alone.

  "Dad, slow down!"

Anakin slowed his pace to a stop and turned to the boy behind him, watching as he ran to catch up. Lost in his own thoughts about the empire he'd nearly forgotten about the boy's presence entirely. He knew better than to let himself get distracted when he had his son with him. Though he was admittedly better at staying out of trouble than his sister, he was still just a child. The Skywalker's couldn't afford any type of trouble in this galaxy.

When Luke's small legs caught up to his father Anakin rustle's his shaggy blonde hair. Padmé had been begging Luke for an entire week to let her cut it. "You've got to keep up if you want to keep going on big-boy excursions with me, Luke."

"It's not my fault you have acklay-long legs, Dad!" Luke retorted back, grabbing hold of his father's hand so that he could keep up with him. Despite his father's slowed-pace Luke still struggled to keep up with him, having to give the occasional step-jog to maintain his pace. Luke didn't dare complain though, afraid his father would leave him out of the next big-boy excursion.

Anakin chuckled at his son. Though his legs might not have exactly been acklay-long, there was no denying the fact that their long length made it difficult for most others to keep up with. He had heard Padmé tell him enough to know its truth.

  Anakin's grip tightened on his son's small hand as they made their way into the bustling Niima Outpost. It was especially packed today, and with the blazing sun baring down on him the extra body heat that the crowd provided was not welcomed.

  Behind him he could hear Luke's feet shuffling after him. He could sense his frustration and stress everytime someone bumped into his small frame. Anakin could scoop the boy up and carry him, taking him out of what he was sure was an unpleasant situation to be in for someone who's head didn't reach past anyone's hips. He didn't see that as having long-term benefits to the boy, however.

  Luke was eight now, only a year younger than himself when he was taken by the jedi. Five years older than he was when he was first sold into slavery. Part of their father/son big-boy excursions was teaching Luke how to be a big-boy, and part of being a big-boy was learning to maneuver through tight crowds filled with rude creatures.

  It wasn't like Anakin had just cut him loose in the crowd either. He still had a tight hold on the boy to assure his safety.

"Finally,"  Anakin breathed when they came to a stop at the herbal booth he had been searching for. He gave Luke's hand a final squeeze before dropping it and looking towards the lasat on the opposite site of the herbal booth. "I'm looking for a batch of nysillin."

"Nysillin, eh? Quite the expensive medical herb you're in search of." The lasat's purple mouth curved upward as she coo'd at the former sith lord. Anakin caught sight of the slight twitch of her pointed ears as she no doubt was ready to swindle the hooded man that stood before her. "what's wrong honey, you comin' down with a nasty sickness?"

"Not me." He said.

  It was then that he felt Luke tugging at his belt. He looked down at the blonde boy who resembled Anakin's own child-self in a striking manner. Anakin raised an eyebrow at his son. "Can I go play?"

  "Play?" Anakin looked past Luke in confusion. In the distance he spotted a group of boys kicking ball in the sand-dunes. Anakin had to roll his eyes at the request. The last thing that he wanted was to carry a sand-covered Luke home after he wore himself out. Nevertheless, he replied with "Okay, but don't go far. I have a few more errands to run and then we're leaving."

Anakin didn't have to watch Luke run into the distance, he could feel him as easy as he could see him. As long as they stayed near enough he could sense his son's force presence to know exactly where to find him if they needed to leave at a moment's notice.

  Anakin turned back to the lasat who was watching his son curiously. "The boy doesn't seem very sick either." She mused.

"It's for my daughter," He replied, a hint of annoyance lacing his tone as he fished through his pockets for credits. He tossed what was in his hand onto the table saying, "for the nysillin."

The lasat had the nerve to look offended by his actions. She individually picked up each credit and placed it into her palm, holding her hand out flat. "I don't remember discussing a price with you, young man."

Anakin scoffed, he hadn't been a young man in years. He had just broken into his thirties - far from young in his book. He hadn't even felt youthful in years, not since that first night that dreams of Padmé’s death began plaguing his sleep. He didn't know it then, but they were a result of Sidious' force manipulation on him. It would consequently be the downfall of the ever-so noble life that he led, as well as the fall of the entire civilization that he grew up in.

  He couldn't say that it was the end of his life, however. That he had no positive's left. He might not have everything that he had when he was a jedi, or everything that he desired when he was a sith, but he did have his family. The only thing that had outweighed everything else in the galaxy to him. Even when he had been blinded by the dark side. Then it had been all about saving Padmé - now it was all about keeping his family together.

"I know the price that nysillin sells for." His voice was low when he spoke, dipping ever-so-slightly into that darkness he always held at bay. Anakin was in no mood to banter over the price of his daughter's medicine. "You won't get anymore out of me than what I've already given you."

  The lasat tried to meet his gaze under the hood, peering up curiously as to see the face inside. "Very well." She stuff the credits into her pocket and began rummaging through the herbs. Anakin stood with hands behind his back as he waited. "say you're a family man, eh? What you doing out on Jakku? Hardly a place to raise children."

If it had been a different time Anakin's eye's would have gone yellow. If it had been in the beginning he would have reached his hand up and choked her for whatever disrespect she implied. Now he just stood there, entertaining the shopkeeper enough to get his herbs. "I see plenty of children here."

"Slaves, mostly." She frowned as she finished up her batch of nysillin, tying the bag that held it in a knot. He did not see any fault in her statement. "I hear the empire is making a surprise visit to the village tonight." Anakin's head jerked up fast enough to make his hood fall back on his head, resting now at the end of his forehead instead of covering his face. "They've got a hit that some hot-shot fugitive is hiding out somewhere on Jakku. Now I don't know who exactly they're looking for, but I do know that most people who end up on Jakku are hiding from something. I also know that I hate seeing families torn apart. You seem like you're an okay dad, I'd keep your family away from Niima if I was you."

[whatifxwereyou]

Ashes Chapter 3: Cracks in the Glass

Pairing: Liu Kang x Reader

Something is very, very wrong with Liu Kang. It's more than grief. You don't know if you can fix it but you certainly have to keep it from getting in the way of your work.

A/N: I'm loving this grief-stricken drama bullshit I've come up with. It's ridiculous! Hope you guys are having fun with it, too! As always, open to suggestions for shenanigans to input. Much love. Your comments and likes are always appreciated.

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You awoke to find that Liu Kang was already waiting on you. He’d always been an early bird. You and Kung Lao had been known to sleep entire days away. You showered, packed up your things, and got on the road. The hike would take nearly the whole day as long as you kept walking and didn’t get lost. With any luck you’d reach the spot marked on the map by the evening. If there was nothing there then you would have to rest and then hike back the next day.

You had faith that there would be something there but Liu was skeptical. You were in a place in your life where you had to believe that most people were good and wanted to help each other. Liu Kang tried to prove you wrong the whole damn hike.

It was awkward. Of course, it was awkward. Why wouldn’t it be? You made occasional conversation about the wildlife and how different it was from China but each topic quickly fell flat. He wanted to say things that he knew you wouldn’t want to hear. You disappeared inside your guilt. Then every conversation was you snapping at each other. Your map followed no clear path and you argued about which way to go. You’d called each other out and apologized a few times but it didn’t make the trip any easier.

As the sun began to set and the trees thinned out, you stopped. There was something else there. You had a good sense for that kind of thing. It felt like you weren’t alone but you couldn’t decide if it was people or animals. Either way, something was amiss.

“We don’t have time for another break, Y/N. It shouldn’t be far from here.” Liu Kang was tired despite his objection. He just wanted to snap at you.

“Shut up.” You hurried to catch up with him and grabbed his forearm as you caught movement. You nodded toward the tree to your right. You weren’t alone. Someone was watching you. Liu set down his bag behind him and you did the same. A rock whizzed by you, and you ducked out of the way. A dozen masked men and women ran out from behind the trees, cloaked and armed with sticks.

You turned so your back was to Liu’s and waited. With a yell, one of the masked warriors came at you. You knocked them to the side and ducked another blow. Then, wheeling back, you kicked another in the back of the neck and to the ground. Then you rolled over them and subdued them. They were being non-lethal so you would be too. It felt to you like they were protecting something.

You could hear Liu Kang fighting behind you and you swept the feet out from beneath another warrior. Then you ducked around Liu to grab the wrist of a man who reached for him in his blind spot. You stepped behind the warrior, twisted his arm back and flipped him to the grass. You yelped as you were suddenly grasped around the middle and tackled to the ground. He’d barely gotten you down when he’d been lifted off his feet and thrown back by Liu Kang. Liu stomped, grasped the air before him and filled it with the fire of his impressive arcana.

You leapt to your feet, out of breath but no worse for wear. Clapping your hands together, you rubbed them and then with a fluid twist of both wrists you used your ink arcana to summon two escrima sticks and then twisted them artfully. Ink spread up your arms and to your shoulders like armor to protect you. Then you stood back-to-back with Liu. There were double the warriors there had been to start with. “You okay?” Liu stole a glance at you behind him. You did the same and caught a scrape on his arm.

“Yeah. You?”

“Fine. You ready?” He gestured to the warriors who had you vastly outnumbered. With a swing, you allowed the sticks to disappear and changed your stance. You were going to make a run for it. It’d been years since you’d fought side by side with Liu Kang but now it felt like you’d practiced together every day since then.

“Enough.” The warriors surrounding you relaxed their stances. Then just north of where you stood, several of the warriors made a gap between them. An older woman walked through the gap, face stern. Her eyes were dark and kind and you didn’t feel threatened by her. With a wave of her hand, the warriors stood down and some even walked back through the forest. You exchanged a worried glance with Liu. “You have passed our test and are welcome here.” Her long brown, but graying, hair was pulled into a ponytail. She turned away and gestured for you. “Follow me.”

“Why attack us if we’re welcome here?” Liu was aggressive and you widened your eyes in panic. It was one thing to fight you on everything, but another to fight every stranger. Oh no. The woman stopped walking but the warriors left, presumably toward a village nearby.

“To test your might, young man.”

“It’s okay, Liu. Whatever this place is? It’s secret and important.” That was your not-so-subtle way of telling him to calm the hell down. You touched his forearm as he continued his aggressive stance and much to your surprise, he shoved your hand off. You stumbled. He picked up his bag and yours and then shoved it at you without looking at you. You took it and held the jade circlet close to your chest. Kung Lao would have smacked the back of his head for being such a jerk.

“Please. Follow me.” The woman requested again. You did as she asked and so Liu Kang, with a haughty sigh, did the same. The trees thinned as you walked and as you suspected, there was a small village hidden beyond. It was old but well loved. It reminded you of Raiden’s Temple in a way. Different, obviously, but it had a similar vibe. The buildings were wooden structures and the warriors who had defended the village were now busy about town, mask-less. There was a big bonfire in the middle of the town but it was only smoldering now. Several people were setting about cooking over it.

If you hadn’t been attacked moments ago then you never would have found them threatening. Liu’s posture suggested that he didn’t agree with you one bit. The woman led you to a house on the other side of town and up the stairs of her porch. She opened the door and led you inside.

“Would you like some tea?”

“Yes, thank you.” You had always been taught it was rude to turn down tea. Especially when you’d intruded on someone’s home.

“No.” Liu, who was usually polite, seemed to have lost that part of himself.

“Please, sit.” The woman gestured to the wooden table near her small kitchen and she set about boiling water and pouring tea for the two of you. Liu was uncomfortable and sat on the very edge of his chair. “What brings you to our village?”

“We have come from the Shaolin Order of Light in search of a man. I am here on behalf of Lord Raiden. The man we seek has a dragon mark and is known as Nightwolf.” Liu’s tone was all sorts of off. He’d been good at this once, you remembered that. Very good at it. He was going to get you kicked out at this rate.

“Why is it you and your Lord Raiden seek this man?”

“We believe…” You began since Liu was coming off rude and were surprised as he interrupted you. You even stuttered a little. You gritted your teeth and forced a smile but it took every instinct in your body not to snap at him for behaving like this.

“Our reasons are only for him to know.”

The woman studied you and so you unclenched your jaw and tried to act natural. “Nightwolf lives in solitude to commune with the Gods and spirits of nature. He is not to be disturbed except for matters of great importance.”

“This is a matter of great importance. I assure you.”

“I’m afraid that I must be the judge of that, young man.”

“Then you’re useless to us.” Liu stood from his chair and you covered your mouth in surprise.

“Liu, this isn’t… you can’t just… uh… calm down.” You decided to try to mediate instead of snap.

“We don’t have time to play games, Y/N.”

“She’s not being unreasonable. I’d want to know if it was me. And you would too. Don’t…”

“Fine. Then you figure it out.” Liu left without another word and you watched him go. You ran your tongue over your teeth and tightened your expression, holding back a thousand frustrating things you wanted to express about how he’d handled that so poorly. The woman made your tea and then sat across from you, a sympathetic smile on her face.

“I apologize.” You bowed your head respectfully. “Do you mind if I take a moment? I need to make sure he’s okay. I’m really sorry about this.” This was going so poorly. Raiden would have smacked both of you on the back of the head and told you to get your shit together, but far more eloquently.

“It’s no problem.” The woman, much to your surprise, seemed amused. “I’ve instructed my people to have a space set up for the two of you to stay as long as you require.”

“I’m so grateful for your understanding. He is too even if he doesn’t act like it.”

“Of course.”

“Oh.” You took a sip of the tea quickly. It was bitter and different than what you were used to at home but not bad. “Thank you for the tea. I’ll be back for it.” The woman laughed and nodded toward the door as if telling you to go. You then rushed out the door to follow Liu who was walking out of town through the trees. You caught up to him and grabbed his arm to make him stop. “What is your deal? You’re usually much more respectful than this. I expect this kind of behavior from Kung Lao, not you.”

“We’re wasting our time. Even if we told her the truth, who is to say that she’ll think we’re worthy of it? I’m tired of being pushed around. We’ll find him on our own.”

“This isn’t a waste of time, Liu. We just got here! You can’t be mad at them for protecting themselves! You don’t know what their lives are like here. We intruded upon their home, and they acted accordingly. This woman has been exceedingly kind since we were allowed in and has given us more information than anyone else. That’s valuable. You have to at least give it a chance.”

“What kind of information, Y/N? Some nonsense about solitude and communing with the Gods?”

“Says the monk who lives in a temple where he communes with an ancient god every day.”

“You know what, Y/N?” He began, raising his voice. You braced yourself for the rest of the fight that was coming and had a feeling it was going to get ugly and fast. Much to your surprise, he didn’t continue. Instead, he took a breath, looked you over, rubbed the back of his neck and walked away, dismissing you with a wave. What the hell?

“Liu?”

“Don’t follow me.” He scolded back at you. You stood staring in shock. He was not himself, not at all. You were worried about him. Closing your eyes, you prayed for him to find peace. Kung Lao’s death had broken him. And you had surely made it worse. That was probably why he’d avoided you. It was why you’d avoided him. Then again, you were grieving too. Neither one of you were your best selves right now.

You missed Kung Lao.

What would he have done in this situation? He would have followed Liu Kang and annoyed him until either they fought or he’d talked. You didn’t think that you had it in you emotionally to do that. You knew what was bothering him and there were no words that could fix it.

You made it worse. You had to remind yourself of that. He needed to cool down and you would let him have his peace.

Next Chapter >>

[ohayohimawari]

And Everyone Else Knew It

A drabble for Day 5 of @kakaobiweek Blue | Safe | Mutual Pining

Brief mature humor, romance, and fluff. I hope that you enjoy reading it!

And Everyone Else Knew It

Kakashi combed his cowlicks with his fingers and tried to steady his heart as he hurried to meet with Obito.

It was part of the latter’s conditional release to have regular meetings with a member of Konoha’s security force. As Hokage, Kakashi was not only the top of the law and order food chain in the village, he was also the only one with authority to pardon anyone for war crimes. As such, the Council of Elders decided that he would be the one assigned to supervise Obito’s rehabilitation and integration back into society. But there was a problem with this arrangement.

Obito was hot, and Kakashi had it bad for him.

His attraction to his old teammate and hero set in almost the exact moment they were reunited on the battlefield during the Fourth Great Shinobi War. The shock over the fact that Obito was most certainly not dead lasted for a fraction of a second, replaced by the shock over the handsome man he’d become. Kakashi barely had an opportunity to make sense of his conflicted feelings before they fought in their Kamui dimension, where he wished they were exchanging blows of an entirely different variety.

But that would be impossible, even after the impossible became possible.

Just because Obito was alive didn’t mean he could return Kakashi’s feelings. Any daydream in which the Rokudaime might indulge quickly ended with the cold, hard fact that a man who would start an international war over a female was probably, most likely, definitely not into dudes.

Even though he wore a watch these days, Kakashi checked the sun’s position in the sky to determine the time. He quickened his pace when he realized he was running late. Running late was Obito’s schtick, and now that he was back, it seemed silly to Kakashi to mimic the habit. At least, that’s what he told himself to explain why he would always hurry to their meetings, not because he was excited to see him or anything.

The funny thing was, was that Obito wasn’t arriving late to their meetings, either.

Kakashi attributed Obito’s punctuality to his desire to make a good impression on his parole officer instead of desiring his parole officer. But what a delicious fantasy that was; it was one that Kakashi turned to often in private and one that he shook clear from his mind as he opened the door to the restaurant where they agreed to meet. They had important things to discuss this time.

Obito said he'd undergone many changes recently, so Kakashi suggested they'd meet in a more casual atmosphere than his office. That way, it could be more like two friends having a conversation instead of abiding by the guidelines of Obito’s punishment.

However, when Kakashi spied Obito waving to him from where he was already seated in a booth, the Rokudaime wondered if he’d set himself up for additional hurt by arranging what could feel more like a date to him than a meeting.

Kakashi nodded a curt greeting at the three remaining members of Team Ten, who enjoyed their weekly dinner together in the booth next to Obito before joining his unrequited crush.

“I hope you don’t mind, but I’m starving, so I already ordered for us,” Obito said as soon as Kakashi sat down.

“That’s fine,” Kakashi was too nervous to have an appetite, anyway. “So, you mentioned that a lot has happened since the last time we met,” he folded his hands in front of him on the table, “you should be moved into your new apartment by now.”

“I am,” Obito nodded.

“How do you like it?”

“I mean, it’s an apartment,” Obito looked down at his lap. “It’s small, but it’s bigger than my prison cell and comfier than a cave.”

Kakashi hummed thoughtfully in response, quietly considering how Obito lived for so long in hiding and doing his best to ignore how his heart ached for the man.

“My neighbor is a kind woman,” Obito continued, briefly meeting Kakashi’s gaze. “She’s elderly; her eyesight isn’t great, and I don’t think she knows who I am,” he smirked sheepishly. “I help her carry her groceries up the stairs, and she brings a plate of whatever she bakes that day, which is really nice.”

This sent Kakashi’s aching heart into somersaults, and he figured he better say something while he still could talk. “Are you forming connections and friendships with others?”

“Yeah, y’know, Gai comes around with his student, Lee, and they invite me to train with them. They, uh,” Obito chuckled, “gave me a matching leotard, and I like sparring with them, but I don’t think green is my color,” he laughed. “It’s nice to feel included, though.”

“Gai is pretty great that way,” Kakashi agreed, thankful for his old friend and rival.

“Kurenai smiles and waves at me when I see her at the cemetery these days, so I hope that we’ll become closer over time.”

Kakashi nodded, shifting uncomfortably in his seat and ignoring how his stomach tightened.

“I dunno, there’s only one person that I talk to a lot since I’ve come back, and that’s, well,” Obito mirrored Kakashi’s discomfort across the table, “I mean, everything about my life is complicated, but that’s really complicated.”

“How so?”

“Well, they’re pretty great,” Obito’s sheepish smile returned. 

Kakashi noted that when it seemed that everything else about his old teammate had changed, that expression remained the same. Then he realized that he was lost in thought, not listening as Obito continued to talk.

“...And they make me feel safe. Which, after everything I’ve been through, that’s pretty important.”

Kakashi kicked himself for not paying attention to Obito because whatever he said made him blush.

“Anyway, that’s hopeless,” Obito muttered.

“Why?” Kakashi asked.

“Well, I was kind of a jerk to them when I was a kid, and… and then I went and messed everything up.”

Kakashi leaned over the table closer to Obito to emphasize his earnestness. “People are learning that you were taken advantage of, Obito. Yes, you did terrible things, but you were manipulated when you were vulnerable. Then, you fought alongside the Allied Shinobi Forces when we needed it, and most importantly, you aren’t running from the repercussions of your actions. That’s why I could pardon you, and it���s why people are able and willing to forgive you.”

“Do you forgive me?”

“Here’s your broiled saury,” a waitress interrupted, and Kakashi sat back in his seat so she could set his dinner down on the table in front of him.

Obito thanked her and assured her that they had everything they needed before leaving them alone at their table.

“This is my favorite,” Kakashi muttered.

“Yeah, I know,” Obito replied off-handed, reaching for his utensils.

As casual as it seemed to Obito, the gesture touched Kakashi. He swallowed down the dangerous beginnings of hope before it could take hold of his exhausted heart and sought to encourage Obito in all of his pursuits. “If I’ve learned anything from being Naruto’s teacher, it’s that nothing is ever truly hopeless.”

“There’s a first time for everything,” Obito spoke through a mouthful of food, and it amazed Kakashi that he could find even that attractive.

“They’re popular, like, really popular, internationally popular,” Obito’s eyes bulged as he stressed the point. “They could seriously have just about anyone they wanted, and I can’t exactly compete with that,” he finished, clearly crestfallen. “Anyway, let’s talk about something else.”

Kakashi was not a romantic man, and he knew it, and he also knew that he didn’t have a chance in hell with the man that sat across from him, no matter how much he yearned to reach out and reassure Obito that he was worth loving, and—

Kakashi chewed his dinner and choked on the word ‘love’ when it crossed his mind. He was in way deeper than he thought and decided that a change of subject was probably best. “You mentioned that you found a job,” he offered.

“Oh, yeah!” Obito perked up at the opportunity to share his good news. “I may not be a ninja anymore, but I’m still in pretty good shape.”

Really good shape, Kakashi thought.

“So, I was offered a modeling contract.”

Kakashi dropped his fork in his surprise, and it clattered on the table.

Obito laughed at him. “I know, it’s unexpected, but,” he chuckled again and awkwardly scratched the back of his head. “Looks like I’m going to be the next bad boy in Blue Boy.”

“Blue Boy?” Kakashi repeated, astonished. “The gay men’s lifestyle magazine?”

“You know it?” Obito asked, wide-eyed.

“Yeah, but I didn’t think you were into— I-I, I mean, I’ve bought a few editions,” Kakashi felt his mouth go dry, “for the articles.” And if Obito would be featured in its photo spreads, he’d be buying a subscription.

“Right,” Obito drawled sarcastically, and Kakashi felt seen. “Anyway, to be honest, I was amazed too,” he fiddled with the straw in his drink, “I don’t exactly consider myself to be fashion model material.”

“You’re hot!” Kakashi was juggling too many surprises, and as a result, dropped his filter. Then he did his best to pick it up and put it back on when Obito’s eyes snapped to his face. “I mean, that’s hot, I mean, good for you,” he wished for the earth to open up and swallow him, or for an assassin to show up intent on taking him out, or—

“You think I’m hot?” Obito asked quietly, tenderly, longingly.

Kakashi licked his lips and opened his mouth to speak but closed it when everyone heard Shikamaru’s groan from the table next to them.

“Mendokusē! Would you two just kiss already?”

Both men sat in silence, staring at each other. Kakashi felt as flushed as Obito looked.

“Shikamaru’s right,” Choji agreed. “You two are worse than a one-hundred-thousand-word slow burn fanfic.”

“Oh, I love those!” Ino gasped.

“A what?” Kakashi asked.

“Who cares,” Obito answered, his eyes beginning to smolder in a way that Kakashi had only dreamed. “Let’s pay the bill and—”

“My place or yours?” Kakashi flagged down their waitress.

“How about ours?” Obito asked, his Sharingan eye already spinning.

[chockfullofsecrets]

The Mandalorian: The Puddle

(Read on AO3)

Rating: Gen

Summary: Mando’s helmet swept left. It swept right. Then, reluctantly, it swept back to her.

“It’s a puddle,” he said flatly.

Well. Yes, but rude. It was a favor.

Cara tries to make her new friend have a little fun.

Wordcount: 1934

A/N: Because I think it might need to be said -

My opinions of the character Cara Dune and the actress Gina Carano are very different - to be clear, I support the termination of Carano’s contract with Lucasfilm due to her antisemitic and transphobic comments. I think it’s both possible and reasonable to separate the character from the actor, but feel free to reach out off-anon if you feel different - I’m always willing to learn and improve in these matters.

“Where are we going?”

Ah, the suspicion. Cara had never met a Mandalorian before the Mandalorian, but judging from his everything the trait was inherited. She could hardly be offended when every scant bit of information that Mando revealed showed that distrust of the world to be completely justified.

Still, no reason to play nice. “Somewhere fun,” she tossed over her shoulder.

Judgmental silence radiated from the beskar helmet in her periphery.

“What, do you want me to tell you it’s going to be boring?”

“I want to know what we’re walking into,” he said, deadly serious. Clearly the man had never seen a pleasant surprise in his life.

Then, softer and distinctly not in her direction, “No, you stay in there.”

...Right. More than one reason for caution, then. “Hey, you know I wouldn’t let anything happen to the gremlin. Just trust me.”

The helmet made the concession of a slightly less judgmental silence. She rolled her eyes and picked up the pace for the last stretch of their short hike.

“Okay, here.” She gestured forward to their destination, stepping into the small forest clearing and sighing happily as a warm blanket of direct sunlight hit her in the face. Sorgan was a nice enough planet, given that her original favorite no longer existed, but especially in the heavily forested regions the atmosphere teetered towards gloomy.

Mando’s helmet swept left. It swept right. Then, reluctantly, it swept back to her.

“It’s a puddle,” he said flatly.

Well. Yes, but rude. It was a favor.

She crossed her arms. “You won’t let the kid anywhere near the krill pits, so he can splash around in here instead. Omera said the village knows about this place; they take the littlest ones here before they learn to swim.”

The kid in question, somewhat sulky for the past few days after being denied the right to chase frogs into the nearest drowning hazard, perked right up at the mention of krill.

Good work, gremlin. Now point that cuteness at your father.

They all watched the shallow pool lap harmlessly against its edges, blown by the gusts of mild breeze rustling through the trees. Mando took one look at the kid’s ears quivering in excitement and pointedly looked away. “He’s too small.”

Cara crouched down and slapped her palm against the pebble-strewn bottom of the pool, raising a doubtful eyebrow in his direction as despite the splash everything above the lower third of her forearm remained bone dry. “This thing is smaller. Just put him in, he’ll like it.”

Mando looked back at the kid, clearly poised to refute her size comparison.

Ba went said kid, right on cue, little claws scrabbling at the plastic of his carrier as he leaned towards the water.

She didn’t bother to bite back her grin as Mando’s aggrieved sigh filled the clearing. “I’ll be watching him,” he warned, lifting the kid to the ground and helping him wiggle out of his robes. “Or you’ll watch him, and I’ll make some rounds -”

The kid grabbed one gloved finger and dragged the sap attached to it all the way to the edge of the pool before deigning to toddle in on his own. His little white undershirt poofed out around his ankles, big eyes getting impossibly bigger with muttered aahs of glee.

Mando stayed hunched at the edge, hands held out protectively as the kid plopped down and started smacking the water with all the force his tiny, tiny claws could muster. Cara sat down too, pulling her boots and socks off and sticking her feet in the cool water. “You like that, kid?”

The kid purred distractedly, eyes flicking up to her before going back to his newest plaything.

Well, that had worked out great. Next target, then.

She turned to Mando. “You too, get in here. Boots off.”

Even balanced gracefully on the balls of his feet, the extra bulk of his armor and cape gave him the air of a giant bird whose egg had just rolled out from under him. “What?”

Wa, the kid echoed, blinking guilelessly up at them. Mando swiveled anxiously back to him and Cara took the opportunity to press her case. “Come on, if something attacks us I’ll keep it busy while you get them back on. And don’t try to tell me that your creed extends to footwear.”

“It doesn’t,” Mando said slowly. This appeared to be a source of some regret for him. Cara waited.

He took one last long scan of the treeline and then reluctantly sat down and started unstrapping the spare ammunition from his shins. Cara had no idea how he’d managed to stuff two knives of that size up against his ankles, but she refused to ask and risk reminding him of some time when having them had been crucial to his survival. She’d steal his boots later and examine them if she had to.

Footwear stacked neatly to the side, Mando scooted up to her and slid his feet cautiously into the puddle. She wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting, but it still surprised her to see humanoid legs sticking out from rolled up fabric.

The helmet swiveled in her direction. “What?”

Don’t say it. Don’t say it.

Of course she was going to say it. At least she already knew he didn’t offend easily.

She gestured to the kid. “I kind of thought you looked like him. You know, claws.”

The helmet took on a distinctly amused tilt. She wanted to stick her tongue out at it. “Where did you think I put the ears?”

“Shut up,” she huffed, dragging through silt as she nudged the sole of his foot with her toes, and - oho, that was interesting.

Mando looked warily at her from where he had full-body-jolted almost a foot away. “It’s really not.”

There was a game of sorts that her shock trooper unit had played with its members unfortunate enough to react like that from a single poke. She hadn’t thought of it in years past the odd reminisce, but she, obviously, had been great at it.

Mando was fast, she’d give him that, but she already knew exactly what she was doing - he’d barely gotten both feet planted on the ground in preparation to stand before she grabbed the leg nearest her and yanked, sending him toppling backwards. “You ticklish, Mando?” she teased, bracing her arms as he tried to kick free.

The mockery made him kick a little harder, leg jerking frantically as he tried to pull it free, but at least he didn’t seem to be reaching for any concealed weapons.

“So,” she grinned, “how’s a rematch sound to you? We never got to finish that last brawl.”

“Dune, no,” he yelped. His fingers scrambled for the rifle strap on his chest as he tried to adjust it and get up, but she was already pulling his toes back so she could gleefully rake her fingertips over the exposed sole.

Mando’s ire crested abruptly into a bark of laughter as she made contact, coordinated attempts to escape replaced with outright flailing. She’d been expecting him to try and hide his laughter more, but there it was ringing out loud and clear through his vocoder. Of course, with his helmet on, Mando couldn’t cover his mouth with his hands or bury his face in his shoulder the way she’d seen people do before.

Which, in this particular case, let her hear her reticent Mandalorian breathlessly curse her out in what seemed like five or six different languages. Cute.

“Well, that’s not very nice,” she told him, tickling lightly over the top of his captured foot. “You going to apologize?”

Mando looked uninclined to do so, even when she found a spot on the inner curve of his sole that made his entire leg shiver when she traced it with her nails. His low laugh exploded into high-pitched, desperate giggles, and Cara realized abruptly that she couldn’t even tell if he was smiling under there.

A few seconds later, it became clear that he’d been plotting instead. The second he managed to kick hard enough to shift her fingers from that deadly spot, he struggled up onto his elbows and, bypassing the entire armory he was still wearing, wrenched his leg free and kneed her solidly in the chin.

Rude. Well now she’d just have to keep going, wouldn’t she? She caught the next attempt at kneeing with her shoulder, getting a vice grip on the back of his thigh to lever his leg back down.

Mando screamed.

Cara jerked back, convinced that she’d managed to dislocate something. “Shit! Okay, hold still-”

She pressed in closer to assess the damage and almost took another blow to the face as he flailed in panic. “No! Nononooo, dohon’t-”

Were. Were those? Giggles? Ticklish giggles from someone who definitely had just gotten their death spot exposed?

“Don’t what?” Recovering, she squeezed his thigh again and rocked back in smug satisfaction as his pleading gave way to another scream. “Of all the spots not to armor up, huh?”

Mando squawked indignantly at the suggestion that his shiny carapace was inadequate, then squawked some more as she pinched her way up the back of his leg towards his knee. “Aw, don’t be mad; you know you could use a good laugh. Hey, are you ticklish here too?”

She wormed her fingers into the back of his knee, which didn’t make him scream again but did force him all the way back down to the ground as his entire body shook with helpless laughter. One leg flailed helplessly behind her - Cara looked back quickly to make sure they hadn’t somehow hurt the kid, but he was still upright and conscious and splashy in the quick glance she spared for him.

She was pretty sure there was going to be water all over her back when they were done here, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. Mando was laughing too hard to surrender even if he tried, and she was determined to keep it that way until she tickled the suspicion and anxiety right out of him.

It was hard to tell when he was running out of breath, but as his kicking and squirming petered off she let him go with one last squeeze just above his knee. She was breathing a little hard herself - she hadn’t realized that she’d been laughing along with him. “You headed out for that patrol now?” she panted.

Mando lay there like the dead, one arm thrown weakly over his face, the rise and fall of his chest the only useful indicator of life.

Negative, then. She was getting used to reading his silences.

Ba went a little voice behind her. She twisted to see the kid standing, both arms raised imperiously - in her direction.

She wasn’t much for kids, but even she wasn’t heartless enough to ignore him. “He’s just taking a second to catch his breath,” she told him, picking him up under the arms. “Let’s get you dried off - or wait, here.”

Triumphantly, she plopped the soggy bundle of child onto Mando’s stomach and watched cool water trickle through the edges of his chestplate to the flight suit underneath.

Accepting his defeat, Mando grumbled half-heartedly and he reached to tousle the kid’s ears. “You liked the water, huh? Maybe we can come back.”

Aaa, the kid told him, producing a palmful of water to spatter over his helmet.

Cara snorted and stuck her feet back into the water. If this was domesticity, maybe she could live with it.

[witcher-and-his-bard-archive]

Under Your Skin || on ao3

Geralt realizes his mistake the second he's made it, but it's too late to do anything about it now. The gash on his thigh stings like hell, but he's still got a succubus to kill and she's putting up one hell of a fight. He'd tried to talk her down, get her to move on and out of the city, but this one is particularly stubborn and is having none of it. She charges him and Geralt reminds himself he has three dead villagers to avenge, putting his focus on them instead of the rising temperature of his own body. He has to act fast; faster even than he normally would with a succubus and she isn't making it easy for him.

He ducks right and rolls out of her path, hopping back up behind her. But she's quick and when she turns to swipe at him, Geralt only narrowly dodges the blow. His reflexes are slowing, the relentless heat seeping in and filling up every crack and corner, slowing him down and making him vulnerable. But Jaskier is barely out of sight and Geralt won't risk letting a succubus have her way with him. Especially when he'd make such an easy target. It’s with him in mind, that Geralt pushes through the sensations and keeps moving.

He side-steps just out of her reach, calculating. He has to finish this quickly and he has to do it without making a mess; it's hard enough to be welcomed in town without being covered in succubus blood. And as soon as he's done here, he needs to get himself to the brothel before the feeling under his skin gets any stronger.

The succubus lunges again and nicks him, but Geralt is quicker this time, tripping her up and pushing her to the ground. He doesn't hesitate before plunging his sword into her chest. She resists, kicking him in the shin and grappling with the blade, but Geralt's brute strength wins out and she stills under him. Geralt leans on his blade for a moment, catching his breath before withdrawing it again and stumbling away from the body.

He needs to bring proof of death to the town mage, but right now he can't even think about that. He needs to get away from her, away from Jaskier and toward someone who can get him through this before it gets any worse. But he is getting worse. Heat sears through him like too much sun on a hot summer day and already his mind is getting foggy. He needs to get to town before he loses control entirely. But he can't get into town without walking past their camp and past Jaskier and he can't be near Jaskier like this, so he's going to have to do something about it first.

Stumbling toward the closest tree, he braces himself, that familiar tug of arousal taking hold. He splays his fingers against the bark, shifting his weight to balance himself as he works open the buttons on his trousers. He's rock hard and aching and he barely gets the top three buttons undone before he's shoving his hand into his trousers, taking himself in hand.

The initial touch is good, and Geralt has to bite back a moan as he strokes up to the head of his cock, twisting his fingers around. The pleasure doesn’t last. It's good for a minute, but the feeling doesn't build and despite every fantasy he pulls up, every past affair he recalls, nothing helps. The feeling plateaus and the heat under his skin burns hotter.

Jaskier finds him like that, leaning against a tree with his cock in his hand and Geralt is too frustrated to care. But he smells him, the spicy-sweet scent drifting on the breeze and Geralt growls low in his throat because this cannot be happening to him. Anything else, anyone by Jaskier.

"Geralt-?" he asks and Geralt's cock jerks in his hand, interested at last. But Geralt shuts his eyes and grits his teeth, ignoring the voice in his head that reminds him of what he really wants. It tells him Jaskier could help, reminds him that this is what he’s wanted after all, at night when the fire burns low or when Jaskier’s fingers massage knots out of his muscles in the bath.

Geralt steadfastly ignores it, assuring himself that it’s just the spell working its way through him and he’ll get through this some other way, he just has to get to town. He just has to get past Jaskier first.

“What’s wrong?” Jaskier asks and the most bitter part of Geralt wants to ask if he can’t see what’s wrong, but he keeps his mouth shut. “I could help?”

No, Geralt thinks, but his body hasn’t quite caught up with that decision. He doesn't like being watched, less so by Jaskier, but when Jaskier speaks the burning subsides and Geralt can feel. This is the last thing he wants Jaskier present for, but he lets him stay, though he doesn't let him get close. And Jaskier knows something is wrong, so he stands there like he's on the other side of a door, stepping from side to side anxiously.

"Talk to me," Geralt rumbles, stroking himself with jerky motions.

"What should I say?"

"Anything. Sing." He regrets the words almost as soon as they're out of his mouth because he can feel the change in Jaskier's demeanour without having to look at him and he knows he's not going to get out of this one easily. Because Jaskier's voice does all sorts of filthy things to him at the best of times and right now he's overwhelmed and out of his own control.

And Jaskier sings. Geralt can't even hear the lyrics through the haze of lust, but Jaskier's voice fills his head and Geralt drowns in it. He works himself quick and hard, focusing on the scent and sound of Jaskier and he comes on a high note, dropping forward so his head presses against the tree trunk. He catches his breath and, without skipping a beat, he wipes his hand on his trousers and buttons himself up around his still-hard cock.

When this is over with, he's going to be sat down and forced to apologize about every awful thing he's ever said about Jaskier's singing. But for now, the ache subsides and Geralt is thankful for small mercies. And after this, Jaskier deserves whatever praise Geralt can give him.

Jaskier hurries over to him, but Geralt still doesn't let him get too close. Even as they head back to camp, Geralt keeps his distance. His mind swims with shame and guilt, but even as he regrets getting off to Jaskier's voice, the need resurfaces. It's thicker, like a smog all around him and he can't breathe. It's worse now and Geralt isn't an idiot - he can pick up on a pattern. He does nothing, steadfastly ignoring Jaskier's voice and the feeling it encourages.

He focuses on packing, getting his things together while he can so they can make their way back to town. Town means brothels and brothels mean relief so Geralt focuses on that.

But even before he can finish, the heat returns worse than before, searing up the back of his neck. Geralt breaks out in a hot sweat, fingers clenched tightly around the fabric in his hand. He doesn't even know what it is anymore, doesn't remember what he was doing before the heat crept up on him again and he crouches down, pressing his free hand to the ground to steady himself.

Jaskier slips up behind him, calm as always and rests a hand on his shoulder. It's probably intended to be comforting, but his touch is like a cool river in the dead of summer and Geralt moans at the relief.

"Again?" Jaskier asks, not nearly as concerned as he should be, but he probably doesn't know a lot about sex magic. He slips up behind him, smoothing his hands up Geralt's back and pulling him back against him.

Geralt wants to pull away, to spare Jaskier the humiliation of having to deal with him like this, but he can't fight the cool press of his hands and the intoxicating scent that fills his head once more. Jaskier rubs his shoulders like he's done countless times before, but when he starts pulling at his armour, undoing clasps and ties, the heat in Geralt’s belly swells.

"You should go," he huffs but Jaskier just tuts at him as he pulls his chest piece over his head. Geralt feels lighter without his armour, but no less hot when Jaskier's fingers slip under the collar of his shirt - an accident, he's sure - Geralt doesn't have the strength to push him away. He moans at the first touch of Jaskier's skin against his own and hates how desperate he sounds.

"I'm not going to leave you here like this," Jaskier hums, and Geralt flops back against his shoulder, whining as Jaskier's hands slip from his skin. "Tell me how I can help."

“Please just go,” Geralt whispers, a last-ditch attempt at saving them both the humiliation, but it comes out aching and desperate and if Jaskier hears, he doesn’t show it.

Jaskier’s hands run down his chest and Geralt’s mind is laser-focused on that, like the only thing that matters in the world is Jaskier's hands. And right now that's what it feels like. He arches into the touch, rolling his head on Jaskier's shoulder and gods it feels good, but it's not enough and he can't ask Jaskier for more. He won’t.

He shifts in Jaskier's arms, his hips twitching with every touch, every puff of breath against the top of his head. It's too much and it's not enough and Geralt feels like he's going to rip out of his skin before he gets through this. Realistically, he knows exactly what he needs, but maybe he can get through it like this, maybe he can just-

Jaskier's fingers brush over his nipple and Geralt's body jerks without his permission, arching off of Jaskier and pushing against him. The moan that fills the air is wild and wanting and Geralt refuses to believe it came from him. He writhes in Jaskier's lap, fingers clenching hard around Jaskier's thighs to keep from doing something he'll regret. He aches to touch, but he's already let this go further than he'd have liked. Even if Jaskier is offering, he's not a willing partner, not really.

But Jaskier is patient and his hands feel so good and when he tips his head down next to his ear, he breathes softly against his ear. "Do what you need to," he breathes and Geralt groans in response.

He doesn't want to. It's bad enough that Jaskier saw him before, he doesn't need a repeat performance. But now that the thought is in his head, his cock aches. It's pressed painfully against the front of his trousers and he longs to wrap his hand around himself, stroke himself off right here in Jaskier's lap. A new wave of heat prickles at the back of his neck just thinking about it.

He moves his hands as slowly as his body will allow, fumbling with the buttons on his trousers. His hands are shaky, his movements stilted, and he growls in frustration, shoving a hand into his trousers with only one button undone. It feels good, even if it's not his own hand he wants wrapped around him and he thrusts against his palm, snapping his hips up hard and fast.

Jaskier's hands slide down his stomach and lift from his body, much to Geralt's displeasure. They hover above his groin and when he focuses hard enough, he can feel the heave of Jaskier's chest against his shoulders.

"Can I-?" he asks and Geralt grits his teeth to keep from blindly allowing him whatever he wants.

"What?" he groans. He needs to know what he wants, exactly what he wants because he can't bear to have Jaskier touch him like this, not this way.

"Your buttons," he breathes and it only occurs to Geralt belatedly that he sounds very out of breath. He nods, turning his head against his chest to keep from seeing Jaskier's hands so close to his cock.

He feels every tiny movement as Jaskier carefully gets his trousers undone and Geralt sighs as his cock is freed, squeezing a little tighter around the base. He's vaguely aware of Jaskier mumbling something in his ear and then he's being hauled upright again, which seems to take far too much effort and he doubts it was worth it.

But as he shifts, Jaskier presses closer against his back. He slides his hands up Geralt's sides, tugging his shirt up over his head and breathing heavily against the back of his neck. And he's hard, the length of him pressing into Geralt's lower back.

This time, when he comes, with Jaskier's hands running up the insides of his thighs, there's no feeling of satisfaction. There's no rise and fall, just more of the same and he knows he's running out of time to get to town. Any human would be beyond their control now and Geralt is trying so hard to hold on, not to lose himself to the lust coursing through his veins. He has to go now.

But Jaskier's fingers creep up, pushing down into the vee of his hips and Geralt doesn't even try to stop him. He doesn't have the energy. When Jaskier takes him in hand, he tries to tell him no, that he can deal with this on his own, but Jaskier's touch is the only true relief he's had.

Jaskier gets him off twice like this, but it's still not enough to satisfy the burning lust within him and Geralt realizes he's not getting to town without getting through this. Jaskier presses his face into Geralt's shoulder, breathing against his skin.

"You need someone else," he realizes. And Geralt can't even speak. "I'll give it to you, anything you need, you just have to let me."

As far as Geralt is concerned, this has already gone on for far too long and he wants to say no, but Jaskier's fingers slip loosely around his cock and for some gods forsaken reason, he wants to help.

"You don't want this," Geralt mumbles, but Jaskier brushes the hair out of his eyes and leans over his shoulder.

"I do," he says, "I hate to see you suffer."

When Geralt shifts, Jaskier's cock presses into his ass and the sharp intake of breath against his ear nearly sends him over the edge again. The feeling is too much, too close to what he really wants and as he moves he catches the scent of him and groans. And underneath the heat and the unrelenting want, a hint of genuine arousal slips through, strong enough that he can smell it even amidst the sweat and the stink of magic. Jaskier wants him. He refocuses himself, bracing himself on Jaskier's thighs and relents, nodding his assent against his shoulder.

Jaskier is enthusiastic, giving him everything he can with his hands and his mouth - and gods, he can do some sinful things with his mouth. He touches him everywhere, never lifting his hands from Geralt's skin, even after he's come again and he's shaking with the effort of it. But it's still not enough. It's still not what he needs and Geralt still isn't willing to ask that of Jaskier, he'd rather suffer all through the walk back to town than put Jaskier in that position.

He bucks up into his own hand, groaning in frustration as it gets him nowhere. Jaskier's hands slide down his stomach, wrapping around him and gently pushing Geralt's hands aside.

"Let me," he breathes. Geralt isn't in any position to argue with him, so he drops his hands to Jaskier's knees, gripping firmly as his hips jerk up.

The worst part is that he knows Jaskier would say yes because sex isn't a big deal to him because he knows Geralt needs this. And that's why he can't ask. Because he won't suggest something that takes away Jaskier's choice. But he thinks about it, eyes clenched shut as he pushes back against Jaskier's cock. He shouldn't touch him, but Jaskier isn't stopping him and most of the time it's accidental anyway. Geralt can't keep still with hands on his cock and sliding down his thighs and he pushes back against him in the moment.

A couple of times he grunts out a stunted I want- or I need- but he never finishes what he's trying to say. The urgency just increases, spreading liquid heat through his entire body and Geralt is helpless to do anything but squirm in Jaskier's lap and take whatever is given to him. He reaches back behind him, curling his arm around the back of Jaskier's neck and pushing his fingers into his hair. Jaskier tips his head, nuzzling against Geralt's temple.

"Geralt," he breathes, "this isn't helping, is it?" Geralt doesn't respond, but Jaskier knows anyway. "You could fuck me." His voice is steady, not revealing any hint of fear or hesitation and the thought rips through Geralt in a rush of lust. But he can't, as much as he might want to. He can't control himself like this and the last thing he wants to do is hurt Jaskier while he's just trying to help. He can't.

"What do you need, Geralt?"

Geralt shuts his eyes and drops his chin against his chest. He doesn't want to say it because he knows it's not how he's supposed to be; he should be the strong one, the dominant one. But he can feel the swell of Jaskier's cock against him and he wants it so badly that he knows it can't just be the spell.

"You can trust me, darling." Jaskier's wrist gives a flick at the head of his cock and Geralt whimpers at the friction. "Tell me what you need."

Jaskier leans in, kissing his neck and Geralt knows it's intended as a comfort but he can't help but lean into it. He doesn't want to give in, not like this but he's too far gone now to make it to town and he probably couldn't find someone to help him in this state anyway. And there will already be repercussions for what they've done, so maybe he should-

The hand he has fisted in Jaskier's hair tightens and he tips his head down, forcibly ignoring the sharp intake of breath from Jaskier as he does. He tugs Jaskier down close enough that he can feel his breath against his cheek.

"Fuck me," he whispers, just loud enough for Jaskier to hear. And Jaskier hesitates long enough that Geralt tries to pull away from him, but Jaskier doesn't let him. He pulls Geralt toward him, laying him down on his back and coming around to sit next to him. He runs his hand up Geralt's thigh and further to curl around his cock, stroking him slowly again.

But it's still not enough and when Jaskier pulls away to undress, Geralt gets a hand around himself, working himself quick and hard despite the lack of relief it gives him. When Jaskier returns to him, he bats his hand out of the way and positions himself between his legs. Geralt holds his breath but Jaskier doesn't care about anything other than getting him through this and if Geralt was in his right mind he would be incredibly grateful for it.

Jaskier doesn't waste any time getting the oil and as soon as his fingers are slick, he presses back between Geralt's cheeks. The first press is cold and unfamiliar, but Jaskier rubs against him, presses just firmly enough to push through the muscle, and Geralt's body adjusts. As Jaskier presses further, Geralt drops his head back against the dirt, giving up any pretense of watching what's happening. The burning need hasn't subsided at all, but Jaskier's fingers feel incredible, sliding around his rim and pressing into him. When he pushes a second digit into him, Geralt finds his body is quite receptive.

It feels... good, like all of Jaskier's touches feel good, but this is different in a way he can't quite explain. He feels open and exposed but it doesn't feel wrong like he expected, he likes it, and he's fairly certain that isn't an effect of the spell. Jaskier takes his time, working precisely and never neglecting Geralt's cock long enough for the need to overwhelm him. He doesn't give Geralt long to adjust to the third finger before he starts moving and Geralt understands, but he wants more and he wants it now. Jaskier crawls up over him, leaning against his chest as his fingers work slowly in and out.

"Is this okay?" he asks and Geralt nods, his eyes slipping shut as Jaskier pushes deeper. "Fuck, do you like that?" He sounds so breathless and Geralt just groans as another wave of lust rolls over him, but Jaskier gets the idea. He doesn't wait any longer, slicking his cock with oil and pressing up against him.

As Jaskier pushes into him, Geralt is aware of nothing but Jaskier’s cock and the way it opens him up as Jaskier presses closer. He looks up once to see him but Jaskier is oblivious. He's got his eyes clenched shut, his bottom lip trapped between his teeth and o a regular day, the sight would be enough for Geralt to get off to - even without feeling him as well.

When he finally sheaths himself, Jaskier pulls Geralt's hips up, holding them steady as he slowly withdraws and presses in again. He's being cautious, but right now Geralt doesn't need kindness and patience, and he hauls Jaskier down over him, shoving his hips back with a growl.

"Fuck me," he snarls, and Jaskier does. It takes him a little bit to adjust to the fact that he's not going to hurt him and that what Geralt needs right now is to be fucked ruthlessly, but he gets it.

And gods, Geralt is barely conscious, floating somewhere between ecstasy and pain, but Jaskier is very good at what he does. Geralt thinks vaguely that he understands why so many people risk their marriages and more to have the bard in their bed. He moans and whines under him, arching off the ground and groping at whatever part of Jaskier's body he can reach to hold on to. Blunt nails dig into Jaskier's shoulders and he'll feel bad about it later, but Jaskier doesn't even flinch, driving himself deeper and switching up the position so Geralt feels like he's choking on his cock.

Geralt's hair is plastered to his face, his body shudders with every thrust, yet it burns for more and Jaskier never once lets up. When Geralt desperate, meekly, asks him to fuck him harder, he does without so much as a second thought, leaning over to brush his hair back and press hot kisses into his throat. Geralt feels like he's going to combust before he ever gets through this, but Jaskier is calm and his touch is Geralt's only respite.

He moves with him, keeping Jaskier inside him as much as he can and he squeezes around him. He can tell the second his orgasm starts building and he wraps his legs around Jaskier instinctively, hauling him down against him. His cock is trapped between them and Geralt thrusts erratically, all sense of timing gone as Jaskier's cock slams into him, sending him over the edge.

He comes with a cry, arching up against Jaskier's body and grinding against him. It's barely satisfying, but the burning need retreats and Geralt is left sweaty and panting in the dirt. His body is dead weight, sinking into the ground and he knows he shouldn't want this, shouldn't let himself linger, but Jaskier is warm against his cooling skin and he can't bring himself to move.

But, he realizes, Jaskier never came. And while he may be doing this to help Geralt, it's hardly fair that he's left unsatisfied for his troubles. Especially considering Geralt wouldn't blame him if he wanted to leave for good after this. The least he can do is send him off happy.

He shifts, winding his arms around Jaskier's waist and slowly sliding his hands down to cup his ass. Jaskier exhales a shaky breath, his hips following the motion set for them. His arms shake and he leans down, resting on his elbows so his nose is barely an inch from Geralt's.

"Relax now, you don't have to do anything for me."

Geralt frowns as he meets his eyes. "You didn't come." Jaskier doesn't respond, but the faint blush that rises in his cheeks tells Geralt that he did and Geralt finds that, despite everything, he’s sorry he missed that. "Oh."

Jaskier disentangles himself quickly after that and Geralt regrets making things awkward. Not that this was ever a comfortable situation, but he'll remember Jaskier's hands on him for many nights to come. He lets his arms fall to his sides, exhausted, and watches as, above him, Jaskier rises to his feet and walks away. There was no other option, he tells himself, and Jaskier offered, but without the screaming urgency burning through his skin he doesn't feel the same conviction he did earlier.

He should get up and help Jaskier get his things together, then ride into town in case this gods awful thing flares up again. But he doesn't get further than sitting up before Jaskier returns, tutting at him and wrapping a blanket around him. He settles behind him, leaning against a tree trunk and pulls Geralt up between his thighs, brushing his hair back out of his face.

"You're not leaving?" Geralt asks and Jaskier stiffens against him, just for a second.

"Of course not. What kind of friend would I be to leave you like this?" Oh. He hadn't considered an outcome where Jaskier wasn't disgusted. That... changes things.

"It might come back," Geralt manages, half-ashamed, half-hopeful that Jaskier is genuine in his offer to stay.

"And if it does," Jaskier breathes, "I'm here."

[wlw-lovestruck-fiction]

If it's alright can I request a story for Helena and MC, whereby MC is forced to result to violence and killing to protect Helena?

WARNINGS FOR: Violence Blood and Gore Some Language Helena’s abuse Spoilers for Route.

Written by @evoedbd

++++++++++

The ground was ash. Sodden with blood and sweat, forming mountains over the bodies of the fallen. Heat clung to Kya’s body, thickening the air in her lungs as she desperately tried to claim one more breath in the chaos. The horizon was aflame with the only consistent splash of colour, deep and raging ember oranges against the backdrop of dull greys and blacks. Smoke billowed from what had once been wagons filled with grains and long-lasting supplies for the starving Capitol. What once had been fields growing crops and hosting cattle were now a remnant of what once was. Battle echoed around her, clashing steel ringing around disembodied cries and coughs. Some were strong and hearty, those men might survive if they fought well. Others were weak, somehow wet in the dehydrated desert of death. These men wouldn’t make it. No matter how hard their fingers dug into the ground as they blindly crawled in search of clean air and their salvation.

It had all happened so fast. One moment, Kya had her arms wrapped around Helena’s waist, head on her shoulder as she dosed behind the saddle. The next, explosion. An attack so vicious Kya hadn’t even registered falling from the saddle, only the screaming. Only Helena barking orders between spells, trying to protect those who were unarmed, to protect the supplies for the poor villages near the Capitol.

Everything was merely white noise in Kya’s ears, a dull swirl of chaotic sound which served as an undercurrent for a pounding heartbeat. A heart raging against reality as it shattered her bones with every jarring beat. How was she to survive when the act of breath was a war within itself? What choice did she have? The heat against her bare palms was nothing compared to the worn grip of a jagged sword. She could feel the dampness of sweat, along with the smoothed tracks where leaner, longer fingers normally grasped. A familiar knick in the grip allowed her to understand how the callused palms of its mistress has come to be. A mistress resting several feet away.

Helena Klein was battered, a vestige of war, pillaged by blade and blow. Each breath was short, a slash of a blade or chop of an axe instead of serenity. Each rattled, as if the broken bones of her ribs might be coming up her chest, ribs she desperately attempted to hold in place by tucking her right arm tightly to her side. The majestic blues of her tunic parted like the seas, giving way to a landscape of soft, snowy flesh mixed with rivers of fouled blood springing forth from a nasty gash. The touch of a blade had begun at the curve of Helena’s shoulder, caressing down to the crook of her elbow, a path Kya’s fingers often followed. Only Helena’s grimy bracer held her sleeve together, protected her forearm from the same fate. The bracer Kya had tied with a gentle smile not an hour prior. One might think it yet another physical representation of how different the loves of Helena Klein truly were. The Queen’s affection was the battlefield, the agony, the desecration of body and soul.

Just like when she was in the Queen’s service, Helena was brought low, left to support her weight on her only uninjured arm, fingers splayed in the slippery mud which oozed through them, trying to swallow her hand. Bedraggled hair hung around her flushed face; white gold tainted to mousey brown by the blood of her foes. A representation, perhaps, of what each life taken meant to her gentle soul. Stains. Darkness. The evil she defied, fixating her icy glare at her hands in rebellion, even as she tamed her trembling body, harnessed her adrenaline and pain into stillness by her sheer willpower alone. Her refusal to let the leering soldiers break her, even with their blades prone to pierce to her vital organs.

The sight of Helena in such a position set something off in Kya’s chest.

Her heart rebelled, pounding even more ferociously within the weak confines of her chest. Drums. The feeling of speakers at a punk rock concert, shaking her entire foundation, filling her with nothing save her screaming morality wrestling with the concept of mortality. She’d failed. Failed. Failed. Failed. She was meant to protect Helena, to never let this happen to her ever again, yet Kya was stuck watching those soldiers prod and taunt the Sorceress, keeping her pinned like a feral creature. The dog The Queen had forced Helena to be. That thought hurt. Kya ached. Rage and helplessness spread beneath her skin, leaving her with a physical sensation of fingers pressing against her flesh from the inside. Filling her, making everything so tight, as if she might simply explode. Shadows played across moonlight as one of the soldiers lifted his sword, mouth moving as he delivered an undoubtedly smug line. Kya didn’t hear, couldn’t hear, over her own blood rushing.

“-No! Please! Helena! Stop him! Oh god, he’s going to kill her! I can’t! Gotta move. Gotta move. Get the FUCK AWAY FROM HER! Fucking MOVE Kya!-” Her mind could only work in snapshots of a thought, missing everything save the panic. Loss pounded at her mind, threatening to take everything she cared about. Her soul sunk, falling into a blazing heat that travelled through her veins to every needed muscle. She was so tense it hurt, as if she were slowly snapping every strand of her being. She sprung into desperate action. Her hand tightened around the hilt of Helena’s blade as she leapt, rushing the man with his weapon raised.

HELENA!

The cry would have been worth alerting the soldiers she was charging, yet no sound escaped. It was nothing more than a shriek echoing within the confines of her mind, burning in every fibre of her existence. Try as her body might, it couldn’t force out even a single sound in the seconds it took for her to cross the distance. These fuckers couldn’t have her! They couldn’t treat Helena like some animal! Couldn’t put her down like a feral dog for biting an abusive owner. Couldn’t bridle her! Nobody had that right, and Kya was not about to let someone take it. Helena was her warcry, everything redirected to a singular purpose. To protect her very heart and soul from these fiends following a tyrannical Queen. The name caught in her throat, wheezed out in a silent burst of determination as she swung the blade with all her might. She couldn’t even care where it hit, only that she needed to save Helena.

She had seen a thousand movies involving beheading a man, where the dashing hero swung their blade and off went someone’s head. It was in a crushing moment of reality she registered that, yet again, the modern world of media had lied. Majorly.

The blade buried itself halfway through the man’s neck, grinding to a halt against bone as the soldier cried out. His gloating never met completion, the final words hanging on his tongue as blood replaced them. It dribbled down his chin, mixed with spittle, only to mix with Helena’s hair and the mud between her fingers.

“Kya!” Helena’s voice was rough with strain, yet the intensity of her command was sharper than any knife. Sharp enough to slice through the fog surrounding Kya’s mind, through logic and reason, and straight to Kya’s body. A single cry held a thousand reminders, a thousand little meanings that neither could ever put into words. Only action. Kya’s body was driven into action, even as her mind wandered further into the protective haze of mist and confusion. With a groan of effort, Helena pushed herself forwards, launching to extend her only good hand even as her shoulder and ribs came down hard into the mud. Kya was already moving, scrambling to grab Helena’s second blade, running straight for the soldier’s Warhammer. He brought it down in a deathly arc. Steel met glyph, casting sparks across the invisible dome Kya was dashing for like a child in a McDonald's playground. It was instinct to duck under Helena’s spell, slithering through the opening the Sorceress had provided. Just as Helena had taught her. This time, however, Kya abandoned her teachings of digging an elbow or a hilt into the soft underarm. Instead, she thrust with all her weight, pushing Helena’s blade until steel pierced the Soldier’s undershirt.

Again, Hollywood failed her. The blade did not slide in smoothly with a graceful thrust. Instead, it jerked with the man’s body, it met the resistance of bone, bouncing off it before sliding through flesh. For one terrifying breath, Kya hesitated. Not out of remorse or pity, but for the shock of resistance. The shock of what she had managed to do. What had she done? Oh gods, what had she just done? She’d stabbed a man. A man who’d left Helena bleeding… Her hesitation vanished. He’d cut Helena. Kya pushed harder, forcing the steel as deep as it could go. He’d tried to kill Helena. Kya clung tighter, twisting the blade was not as easy as Hollywood made it look. She didn’t expect the gush of heat over her unsteady hands as her awkward weight tore the opening of the wound wider. Nor could she have prepared for the sheer slippery yet grittiness as blood covered her hands. All she could do was cling to the hilt, allowing her body weight to fall with the soldier into the mud.

Hot stickiness coated her body, clinging to her linen shirt as she fell against the Soldier’s armor. The collision, along with the clash of hot and cold left her nerves caught between tingling and prickling in confused agony. Breath was banished from her lungs. For several seconds, the world was nothing but too much. So many sounds and feelings, a blur she couldn’t make sense of. Groaning, she forced herself to lift her head, to survey the battlefield, to make sense of what she saw.

The pink figure of Altea dancing across the battlefield, staff in hand as she yelled spell after spell at the dwindling enemy forces. The dashes of green as Isuel masterfully wove around the edges, his arm moving as a blur as he unleashed a volley of arrows to match a battalion with lethal accuracy. A dark shadow melting high and low as Searys unleashed his demonic strength upon any who drew close, indifferent to the fact they were covered in steel as his fists left dent after dent. August, a silver knight who lunged in and out, clashing with foes masterfully, cutting them down in waves with the determination of his swings. Then, the blazing red glory of Reiner, leading his Retainers with precise commands as his crossbow sung, ensuring victory every time his finger closed around the trigger.

The realisation that reinforcements had arrived was slow to dawn on Kya, yet not as slow as when she looked down to her hands.

Blood. There was actual blood on her hands, obscuring her pale skin with smears that almost reminded her of soy and chilli sauces mixed together. Then spread thinly over her skin. Had she been wearing her armor, would she have felt that at all? Stupid. She had been so, so stupid! Why hadn’t she anticipated an ambush with everything they knew? She’d been napping, not thinking at all. She’d let everyone down, including herself. If she had just worn her armor, she wouldn’t have to deal with this stickiness. Wouldn’t have to feel the blood on her hands. Wouldn’t have to see…

“O-oh god.”

She couldn’t stop seeing. Her eyes fixated on the man beneath her as she frantically pushed up to her knees, trying to flee the sight. His death had not been something graceful, with lingering peace across gentle lips. Instead, his face was twisted with horror. His lean jaw and full lips were contorted into a forming scream of absolute agony. Deep brown eyes stared listlessly back at the world, lacking the spark of life Kya was so used to seeing in everything. As soot floated down across his face, it gathered on those unblinking eyes, slowly obscuring their colour as Kya watched with a growing horror and a gurgling in her gut.

What had she done? What the actual fuck had she just done?!?

“Kya!” Helena’s voice was the closest to frantic Kya had ever heard, wavering at a higher pitch. A shrill shriek, filled with an immeasurable amount of fear. Fear more than Helena had ever felt. Helena, who had seen hells that rendered a nation extinct. Who had been tortured beyond instinct, to the point she defied the very laws of nature. Helena, who’d begged for death a thousand times over for the horror she’d endured, screeched her worst for Kya. It was a sobering footnote in Kya’s consciousness. She couldn’t hold it, couldn’t even hold herself as she collapsed backwards. Helena was there, skidding through the mud to catch the love of her life. To gather Kya into her chest, greedily pulling the smaller woman into each of her injuries in an effort to keep her there. To protect her. Once again enduring pain in silence. Helena’s desperate hands wrapped around Kya’s jaw, around her tender throat, trying to guide Kya’s gaze to meet her own. Even in her adrenalized state, Helena’s hands remained gentle, cradling Kya as if she might shatter in her palms. Worshipping, despite the chaos surrounding them. When Kya surrendered to that guidance, she found herself falling into pools of obsidian-tinged sapphire, watching the magic swirl and fade as Helena regained control of her emotions.

Helena’s eyes were so beautiful. So alive. The depth of love and need that underlaid every emotion drew Kya in, drowning her an indescribable heat that threatened to consume her if she didn’t look away. The passion there was scorching, eradicating everything save the thick veil of devotion in those lively eyes. The haze was soothing, somewhere she could simply watch from as her body moved with Helena’s gentle touches. That gentleness was not spared for her clothing. Helena’s hands were weapons once more as the Sorceress literally tore Kya’s shirt open, running that one good hand though the blood, searching for the cause. Even as that hand ran, her injured arm cradled Kya’s head, keeping her upright, preventing any chance for fluids to drown the smaller American. Then, she was lifting a vial to Kya’s lips, pressing just a little too roughly, too desperately. Glass bounced against Kya’s teeth in a shaking hand, almost causing pain as she retreated, meanwhile flailing her own hand to reject the vial.

“I’m fine! It's not my blood.” Kya dismissed the tender touch as if it were a normal occurrence, her voice completely casual in her instinctual effort to reassure Helena. The Sorceress stopped, breathing rapidly as her gaze fixated upon Kya’s once again, realisation dawning in icy eyes. Realisation. Understanding. Guilt. Horror. Regret.

What had she done?

“It's not my blood…” the second time it escaped Kya’s lips was bitter, a lowered mumble as her body caught up with the fact. She’d killed someone. No, not just someone. Two someones. She’d taken two lives without any hesitation, without any mercy. They’d tried to take from her and that had been enough for her to mindlessly take those two lives from others. Just like so many had done to her with Helena. What would those lovers care for reasons when their arms were cold and empty? What would daddy’s crimes matter to the little girl waiting for him to come home? What words could soothe a mother missing her baby? What families would get letters saying their brother, father, son or lover had fallen in battle? Was the Queen even merciful enough to have someone notify the families of her dead? Would those families spend years waiting for answers? Never knowing if their loved one would return. Would children wonder what they did for daddy to abandon them? Would…

Kya tore herself away from Helena, falling onto her hands and knees as the pressure in her stomach exploded out her throat, a warm mush that coated the ground between her hands. Mouthful after mouthful of vomit came up, each punctuated by an impossibly loud wretch. It stunk. Everything absolutely stunk. Nothing had prepared her for the strong stench of blood, the almost delicious smell of cooking flesh for a split second before disgusting burning hair.

Soothing fingers ran against Kya’s scalp, gathering up the sweat-soaked raven locks in adoring hands as Kya’s vomit became bile, the contents of her stomach emptied. It left her feeling weak, so weak her body trembled with the effort to hold herself even somewhat aloft from the mud. Everything was covered in a layer of fleece, making everything distant to her senses. Even that distance couldn’t banish the warmth of Helena’s arms as they wrapped around Kya, bringing the exhausted girl into the safety of the Sorceress’ chest. Helena’s arms became her bedrock. As the world crumbled around her, Helena’s strength and comfort held true. She couldn’t find her perverse enjoyment of Helena’s chest, nor relish the powerful flex of muscles. All she could do was find solace of the touch.

“Would that I could spare you this pain.” Helena’s voice was laden with sorrow, weighing her tones down along with Kya’s heart. Even then, Helena’s mind was on comforting as she lifted her own sleeve to Kya’s lips. The Sorceress lovingly cleaned the trails of bile from Kya’s chin, delicately tracing the soft material over quivering flesh. Her brows furrowed in guilt as she leaned closer, resting her forehead to Kya’s in an attempt to dull the pain. To flood the girl with reassurance and acceptance. Neither woman jumped at the tickle of the tip of their noses bumping, though Kya let out the softest groan of protest.

“I stink.”

“The discomfort of your pain is far worse than any fouled breath.” Helena retorted calmly, her voice near a whisper as she leaned closer, forehead to forehead. Kya’s eyes drifted closed, as if she might defy the reality of what she had seen. She couldn’t. It burned behind her eyelids. Lifeless bodies. Blood. Helena’s terrified face when she had first gathered Kya into her arms.

“I…”

“I am here, Kya, for whatever you would ask of me. Please, allow me to bare this with you.

It was the gentleness in Helena’s voice which finally undid Kya. The girl broke, tears streaming down her cheeks as she buried herself within Helena’s embrace. She nuzzled, squirming into the comforting scent of parchment and herbs, of magic, of Helena. By now, Kya had smelt many a mage, many a warrior, yet none were Helena. None could make her heart race and settle simultaneously. She couldn’t help but press her lips under Helena’s jaw, to relish the feeling of a fluttery pulse at the gesture. Alive. Helena was alive. She was alive because Kya had acted, had sacrificed morals. If she hadn’t… they’d have done the same. They’d have taken Helena’s life for their Queen not to take theirs.

“I killed people. They were going to kill you, and that should make it easier but…” Kya tried, swallowing back the empty feeling of vomiting. Her throat closed up, tickled and thick at the same time, as if she might gag. As if she might choke on the blood she’d shed.

“I don’t feel sorry I killed them. That’s easy. But their families… the people left behind will suffer when they did nothing wrong.”

“It is the price of war, Kya. If only I could have protected you longer, that you would not endure such a torment now.” Helena sighed, tightening her arms around Kya for a breath before she relaxed, allowed Kya to withdraw a little. Kya’s lips fell open, disbelief etched across her face.

“Don’t. Helena, you cannot take the blame for this. You didn’t attack first or make any of this happen. Existing doesn’t make it your fault.”

“You killed to protect me.” Helena laid it out, her casualness leaving Kya reeling. How could Helena even think that? How could she so calmly blame herself for a choice Kya had so readily made? No. It hadn’t even truly been a choice. Losing Helena was unfathomable. Blaming Helena for such a thing felt like blaming her for the existence of death and pestilence. It was not Helena’s fault, no more than it was that the seasons changed. Yet of course, Helena would claim the blame before it could be laid upon her, or worse, before accountability could slip away. Before she could escape her responsibilities. Helena’s magic allowed her the power to do the unthinkable, to defy nature itself. For her to see Kya suffer, of course she would take it as a personal failure. As something she was meant to prevent. There was that touch of nobility, that spark of absorbing every problem and taking blame.

“Yes.” Kya agreed, nodding before she continued.

“That doesn’t make it your fault, Helena. You never asked me to fight, you did not force me to act. They hurt you! They were going to kill you, Helena, and I just… I had to protect you, no matter the cost. Just like you’ve always protected me. That does not make it your fault.” Kya had to take a breath. Gods, Kya loved her. She loved this noble woman so much it hurt… but curses if it didn’t frustrate her. If she didn’t want to cut down everyone who’d beaten Helena into this place. Who’d taken her nobility and weaponised it into self-sacrificing tendencies. Kya could only lift a hand to Helena’s cheek, a silent rebuttal to Helena’s brewing guilt. Something she’d soon find the words to address in-depth, once her own agony dulled, once her tongue wasn’t so heavy in her mouth. Kya stared into those deep blue eyes, lost in what she saw there. Helena understood. She understood too perfectly, even without more words exchanged. It was the price being so close to her she’d constantly warned Kya of.

“I didn’t think of any of it. I just killed when you were in danger. So many people might have moral reasons to kill you, and if they did, I’d kill them. I couldn’t be moral if you were hurt, Helena. I love you. My reason for killing those who hurt you would be moral, as would their reasons be for hurting you. As would anybody who hurt me as payback. When does it end?” Kya pleaded, looking to Helena for an answer. Violence begets Violence. That had never made as much sense as it did the moment she saw the dullness in Helena’s eyes, the exhaustion. The answer the sorceress didn’t want to give. And why should she be forced to? This cycle had been Helena’s curse since before puberty. Violence to survive, earning violence in return. A currency exchange of flesh and soul. An exchange the Witch Queen had indebted Helena so heavily to that it was doubtful she’d ever escape again. That she’d ever be truly free so long as she walked this world.

Helena could only give a sad curl of her lips, a silent expression of utter helplessness even as she pulled Kya back into her embrace, as if her arms might shield Kya from these harshest of truths. As if the world might take pause from its corruption of the tender soul cradled so close to a sullied, blackened heart.

Silently, Kya allowed her head to fall to Helena’s shoulder once more, relishing the closeness. The life. The moment of stillness. She understood now, why Helena had been so fearful, so guilt-ridden for her feelings. For her affections. Not for feeling, but for the burden such things rested upon Kya’s shoulders. It was enough to almost make Kya cry again. Here Helena was, pleading to take a burden that she’d shouldered alone for so long. A burden Kya found herself willing to carry. Able to. She had to.

There was no going back, no button to undo her actions. To rewind and alter history. The innocence Helena had fought to preserve was gone.

It was as the Sorceress said. Such was the price of war.

[chronicallylatetotheparty]

Watching (the Adventures of) Merlin season one on Netflix

Episode One: The Dragon's Call

. . . I feel like going to the capital of the kingdom indiscriminately slaughtering magic users wasn't the best idea.

Why? Well, that guy did just get executed.

And now his mom is mad. You tell that sorry excuse for a king, witch lady.

I don't like Uther, in case it was unclear.

Wait... if you could teleport why not just grab your son and ditch before he loses his head? Literally.

Oh, wow. Arthur is a dick.

Morgana. We have no choice but to stan tbh.

Dragon, you're really rubbing me the wrong way.

That's right Merlin! We need more than Because Destiny Says So!

Where did the spiderwebs come from? That sleeping spell gives me Sleeping Beauty vibes.

Ah, yes. The old drop-the- chandelier-on-the-villain trick. :(

If she went after Uther instead of Arthur I would have no complaints.

Manservant? You call that a reward for saving your son?

Episode Two: Valiant

Snake!Shield

Oh, he's gonna- Yup, dead. That's what happens when you deal with knights who cheat.

Where did that guy even get a magic shield in the first place?

Is there a thriving magic black market or something?

I love Guin.

. . . I feel like Sir Valiant didn't think this through. If bite marks are visible.

Ugh, you're the worst Uther.

It's only the second episode! Did you forget who saved your son already?

Stop being a jerk Arthur.

Lol. Merlin bringing a dog statue to life in order to practice for the Snake!Shield.

Bye Valiant!

Episode Three: The Mark of Nimueh

Whatcha up to with that egg, new witch lady?

You gonna poison the water of all of Camelot? Seems like a jerk move.

Dang that's a lot of dead bodies...

No, I like Guin's dad!

Yes! Cure him Merlin!

No! Stop arresting Guin, Uther!

You tell him, Morgana!

That plague monster that hatched from witch lady's egg is creepy.

Dead monster!

Arthur is kinda oblivious to Merlin's magic ngl.

Yay! Guin's free!

What do you know about witch lady Nimueh, Uther? Hmm? Why she want you dead? Besides the obvious reasons.

Episode Four: The Poisoned Chalice

Wow, Nimueh really doesn't like Merlin saving the day.

Wow, Nimueh really orchestrated an entire diplomatic incident in order to kill Merlin while also ensuring Camelot is destroyed by its neighbor. Impressive.

I really like Merlin and Guin's friendship.

Dang. Merlin really drank poison in order to save Arthur.

Merlin saved Arthur's life, Uther! Let him return the favor!

Oh, wow. Arthur really disobeyed his father in order to save Merlin's life.

I didn't know Merlin could cast spells while deathly delirious. And several miles away from him too.

Uther you b****! The antidote is right there! Let Arthur save his friend!

Putting your own son in a cell is such a jerk move.

At least Arthur and Guin manage to sneak the antidote to Merlin.

Quick aside: Internet spoilers say Uther needs to die for Arthur to complete his himbofication- I mean character development. So, if you could get on with that? Thanks!

Episode Five: Lancelot

Wow, that's a very CGI griffin.

Lancelot is so precious- Uh, I mean effective! Saving Merlin and all.

I know, Guin. I know.

Always thought it was a stupid rule to only let nobles be knights.

You're really going to commit magical forgery for someone you just met, Merlin?

I mean, Lancelot is earnest, hardworking, modest, kind despite his tragic backstory and it's his childhood dream to be a knight...

Yeah, I'd commit magical forgery too.

Lol, knocked you on your ass didn't he Arthur? (The second time at least)

I don't remember griffins being man-eaters!

Uther stop arresting people! Ugh, you're such a classist.

Let Lancelot help fight the griffin, Arthur! You need all the help you can get!

Well okay letting him go was nice of you.

Lancelot-Merlin tag team!

Wow. Lancelot really strode in with Camelot's singular braincell by figuring out Merlin has magic.

(The bar is low, okay.)

No, don't take away the braincell! Stay! The griffin was a team effort!

Okay, Lancelot's lawful good tendencies are a little annoying but, hey, nobody's perfect.

Episode Six: A Remedy to Cure All Ills

Edwin, no. Leave Morgana alone.

Oh, beetles! Curse beetles! That's not creepy at all.

Gaius how do you know Edwin?

What diabolical plot are you hatching Edwin? Oh, you're replacing Gaius in the royal court. That's kinda rude.

Merlin's so happy meeting another magic user that isn't trying to kill him (yet).

Le gasp! Uther's purge killed Edwin's parents? WhO cOuLd HaVe fOreSeEn tHis!?

But seriously. No wonder Edwin wants Uther dead.

I know Edwin blackmailed Gaius with exposing Merlin but he also wants to kill Uther!

That gives him a pass in my book.

Gaius no. Let Uther die.

Edwin stop trying to kill Gaius! You're going to-

Yup, here comes Merlin and-

Edwin's dead :(

Well he was trying to overthrow the kingdom. That's... bad... I guess.

Episode Seven: The Gates of Avalon

That title is misleading. It's more of a natural portal/magic lake type thing.

Arthur saves a father and daughter from bandits (Which they hired but shhh)

And they immediately try to put a love spell on Arthur

For human sacrifice purposes of course

Idk why the Sidhe want a human prince's soul -look at him, you don't know where he's been- but that's the price for readmission

I wonder how the dad killed one of his own kind? Was it an accident or...?

Exiling the daughter too makes me suspicious of Avalon's justice system

Evil laugh is a bit out of place for someone who is trying to restore his daughter's immortality

(They are so whiny about being mortal. Hey, we put up with it all the time!)

The fairy-like Sidhe moving in accelerated time so they just look like tiny orbs of light was an interesting touch. The blue faces and razor sharp teeth is not a good look for them, lol

They make Arthur ask to be married ('cause it takes a while for the love spell to go into full blown mind control or something)

Prompting Uther to threaten to kill both of them

(I feel like they didn't think this through)

Morgana admonishes Uther for being the worst

He replies that first love rarely lasts and that Arthur is inexperienced in such things. Plus that Arthur only met the girl yesterday

... I can't believe Uther is the voice of reason this episode

He doesn't get any points though. Due to the whole "threatening to execution his son's 'crush' " thing

The daughter is having second thoughts about using Arthur as a human sacrifice

Dear old dad puts those to rest and they try drowning Arthur in the lake that is/is the portal to, Avalon

Merlin's really leaning into the whole "Cool motive. Still murder.", thing huh?

Like, he did NOT hesitate to blow up both of them

Episode Eight: The Beginning of the End

Why do magic users keep going to Camelot!? The king is trying to KILL YOU!

Wow, this grown ass man is threatened by a literal child... I hate Uther so much

Morgana is the MVP of this episode. I love her

Protect that druid kid!

I feel like you're being paranoid Uther

You tell him Morgana!

Dragon, no. Stop prophesying death and destruction.

Wow, this grown ass dragon is threatened by a literal child...

Aaaand Morgana got caught sneaking the kid out of the city :(

Uther she is your adopted daughter! Stop putting people in cells!

Arthur is gonna sneak him out now?

While Morgana distracts the king?

Yes, excellent. What could possibly-

Merlin stop listening to that destiny dragon! Hearing his voice in your head is no basis for trust!

Cutting it close... Yay! They made it!

Mordred!? MORDRED!?

THAT little boy is Mordred!?

... Okay, I'm more inclined to believe the destiny dragon now

Still think letting him die would be a dick move

Episode Nine: Excalibur

What're you up to with that tomb Nimueh?

Oh! It's some kind of undead knight. Yes.

Throwing down the gauntlet. Pfft! Always thought that was a stupid idea.

Also: that Black Knight literally crashed your party!

Ugh, knights.

Nimueh if you can just teleport into the heart of Camelot while Uther is alone why don't you just stab him? Grab one of those pointy things he likes so much and stab him in the back. Easy peasy!

Stealing this joke but Don't do evil magic kids. It fries your brain cells.

Wait, the Black Knight is Uther's brother-in-law!?

Arthur's mother died in childbirth!?

Uther asked Nimueh to use her magic so he could have Arthur!?

Equivalent Exchange!?

Uther went on a genocidal rampage because he didn't bother with the instruction manual of ancient and powerful magic!?

Actually, that last one is not surprising at all.

I can't believe they're using the Wife in the Fridge trope. That appliance hasn't even been invented yet!

Ooh, Merlin's going to use his magic to destroy the Black Knight so Arthur doesn't have to fight him

As he's killed two knights already

Aaaaand, yup, he's still there. His cloak didn't even catch fire...

Arthur stop being a bastard. It doesn't suit you

Dragon forged sword! DRAGON FORGED SWORD!

Only Arthur can wield it. Yup, got it. How could this possibly go wrong?

Uther drugged Arthur and took his place in the fight... I have mixed feelings about this.

Wait, the dragon was very specific about only Arthur using that super special sword! Oh, snap.

Well at least the Black Knight is dead. Again.

Oh, dragon is not happy.

I know the dragon said "where no mortal soul could find it" but are you sure you wanna throw it into Avalon, Merlin?

Those people were gonna suck Arthur's soul out of his body

Episode Ten: The Moment of Truth

The way this episode title just lies to your face like that...

Oh, you're Merlin's mother! Thought we had an anime protagonists type thing going on

I... would like to say Uther is being unreasonable when he decides not to cross borders to get rid of some bandits. But I can totally see everyone hating him so that's a no go.

Lady, you were in a whole different kingdom. Why for the love of Merlin did you send him to Camelot!?

We're off to save the village! Morgana and Guin are coming too!

A wild Arthur appears!

Morgana better at swordplay than Arthur confirmed!

Merlin! I didn't know you had friends!

Granted he's a bit rough around the edges but

Okay. If it were literally anyone else besides Arthur. I'd say he was right about lords and knights being useless snobs.

Actually. He's right about lords and knights being useless snobs. Ah, that felt great.

Wow, the homosexual subtext is strong with this one.

The girls can tell Arthur came for Merlin.

But get your foot out of his face! I don't care how royal it is!

Look at Guin over here calling out Arthur for being a dick

And talking him into letting the women fight. She's on a roll

Aw, Merlin's friend died. :(

And he took credit for Merlin's tornado (so Arthur wouldn't find out about Merlin's magic)

Episode Eleven: The Labyrinth of Gedref

Lol, that unicorn could use a haircut.

No, Arthur. I said a haircut not an arrow to the chest!

Bad things? What kind of bad things Gaius?

Uther what's the point of having an expert in magical lore if you're not going to listen to him!

And all the crops are dead. Fantastic.

I know it's a magic thing but stating outright that the blight only targets edible plants is still really unsettling.

And the water's turned to sand. Great.

Who're you and how come Merlin is the only magic user that can't teleport?

What kind of tests mister Keeper of the Unicorns, sir?

Arthur I know you don't want to believe it's your fault... But it's totally your fault.

Uther no. People are starving.

You tell him Arthur.

Oh, the "theif" was a test!

Aaaaand he failed the second one. :(

Merlin's got a lot of faith in Arthur.

It's interesting how the Keeper can only direct the curse caused by the unicorn's death. Or rather the trials surrounding the curse, but can't break it himself.

Unicorns have some powerful magic.

The Labyrinth was barely on screen for five minutes! Surely something with Unicorn in the title would be more appropriate?

Arthur drinking a poisoned cup so Merlin could live?

That's some strong parallels right there.

The Keeper of the Unicorns is such a troll! Sleeping potion, hah!

The day is saved, Arthur lies to Uther's face about killing the Keeper and the unicorn resurrects itself.

Still needs a haircut though.

Episode Twelve: To Kill the King

Whatcha up to Guin's dad?

Oh that guy isn't suspicious at all.

You didn't think it was shady when he asked to meet in the middle of the night!?

Philosopher's Stone!?

Wow, the guards found him quickly.

What- No! Don't arrest Guin's dad!

Uther, he's a blacksmith! Stop being paranoid!

Will you stop executing people!? That inn keeper didn't know that guy was a dangerous sorcerer!

No, nononononono! He surrendered! Why did you do that!? Guin's father was important to Morgana!

That's why she gave him the key!

Dragon has his priorities straight.

Shut up, Merlin. You literally blew up a father and daughter for trying to kill one(1) person. (No really, you could see their hands flying off.)

Morgana deserves a little murder. As a treat.

Yes! Get him! Kill the bastard!

No! Why would you make GUIN say that!? Who are you and what have you done with Guin!?🔪🔪

UGH, he literally committed genocide!

The "that would make me as bad as he is" DOES NOT APPLY!

What- Oh, he still has the fairy's staff.

No. Stop it! Let Uther die!

Oh, God, Uther is such an abusive piece of GARBAGE!

Stop! Don't fall for it Morgana!

*sees dagger being pushed closer to Uther's "heart"* Yes! Yes! YES!

*Morgana saves him* NO!

NO!

NOOOOOO!

*inarticulate ranting in the background*

Episode Thirteen:

Okay, the cgi might be getting a little better 'cause the Questing Beast is freaky

Old religion? What is that? And how come it's conveniently absent from the previous episodes?

Dang, they really here just casually gaslighting Morgana like that 😡

Merlin you know Morgana has visions! You couldn't have been a little more careful? She warned you. Now look at Arthur, he's got the heroic death disease

Granted that thing does seem like a handful

Why do you only act like a father when it's a matter of life and death? Why can't you be a father literally any other time!?

"The old religion is the magic of the Earth itself."

Well that sounds fascinating, dragon. Are you going to elaborate? No? Later then?

Soooooo, is the old religion actually a religion or is it a magic? It's really unclear...

"You will be a better king than your father could ever hope to be." Guin, you're back!

I expected a place called the Isle of the Blessed to be less... creepy

Nimueh! Whatcha up to girl? Plotting the demise of a kingdom? Not today it seems

Oh there some Equivalent Exchange type nonsense going on is there?

Arthur you were supposed to be in a coma not listening to Guin!

Oh. Oh, no.

Merlin saying goodbye as he prepares to trade his life for his mother's is 😢😭

Wow, that dragon really knew Nimueh would give Merlin's mother the curse and didn't say anything. The little b*****!

No wonder Merlin's mad at him. Stop breathing fire at him! It's your own fault!

Gaius, no! Not the dead mentor trope!

"You stood by and watched as our friends died." Damn, Nimueh isn't pulling her punches.

Merlin vs Nimueh! Ready? Fight!

Anime protagonist power up! Dang, Nimueh's dead... I feel like that wasn't supposed to happen.

At least no one else is dying. Since Nimueh's death appeased the Equivalent Exchange laws of the old religion.

[heartsywritesthethings]

Team 7 Training 4

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

“You should be training with the rest of your team, Shikamaru.” Asuma said, raising an eyebrow at his pupil from across the shoji table. The spiky haired ninja just shook his head and moved a piece of his on the board.

“And why is that?” Asuma asked, moving his own piece.

“They have to catch up to my skill level before we can train together again. Otherwise, I’ll just keep beating them and I won’t get better,” Shikamaru said nonchalantly. He moved another piece.

“They will grow to resent you if you keep acting like that,” Asuma continued. He glanced over at Ino and Choji, who were busy sparring with each other in a nearby field. 

“They’ll be fine. It’s your turn.” Shikamaru said with a small dismissive wave of his hand. Asuma moved his piece. Shikamaru nodded, leaning forward to inspect the board for a moment, before moving a piece of his own.

“Alright, well, you need to spar. Who would be on your level? Could you give me a name?” Asuma asked. He purposefully didn’t move a piece even though he clearly had a plan set on the board. Shikamaru didn’t like to admit it when things bothered him, but taking too long on a turn of Shoji was definitely something that rubbed him the wrong way. Shikamaru shifted in his chair, keeping his eyes on the board.

There was only really one move that the sensei could do. Why wasn’t he doing it? Well, probably to get a response out of him. It wouldn’t work this time. 

Shikamaru glanced up at his sensei, who was looking pensively at the board. As if he was actually thinking about what move to make. 

Just move your piece.

Just move it. 

You know exactly where it’s going.

“I don’t know. Do you want a sensei or another ninja? I’m assuming a fellow ninja because otherwise it would be you or Kakashi at this point.” Shikamaru responded finally, trying to appear calm and collected. Asuma reached to the piece, then pulled his hand back. Shikamaru’s eyebrow twitched. 

“How about…Naruto? He has grown in strength since he left to train with Jiraiya.” Asuma said, a small smile quirking up the corners of his lips. He knew that Naruto Uzamaki and Shikamaru were friends, of course, but they rarely ever sparred. Mostly because Shikamaru got aggravated with the silly mistakes Naruto constantly made in their fights.

“Naruto? His power is far beyond my own currently. It wouldn’t be a fair fight on my end.” Shikamaru said through ground teeth. 

“What about his mental prowess? Would that make the two of you equal in a match?” Asuma said, noticing that Shikamaru was definitely getting more aggravated, despite his best efforts. Shikamaru drummed his fingers on the table.

“Why would I fight him now when there is an unknown number of enemies looking to capture him at any given moment? When I injure him, his ability to fight back the Akastki will drastically decrease. I know I don’t have to tell you where exactly to place your piece, but I may move it for you if you take much longer,” Shikamaru said, staring a hole into the board where his sensei’s piece should be by now. 

“I think I may know a way. Team seven’s leader Kakashi has mentioned their…strange training methods to me before. I think it would be something you would be interested in.” Asuma said before finally moving his piece. Shikamaru relaxed, letting out a breath he hadn’t known he had been holding. He moved another piece.

“Oh yeah? And what’s that?” Shikamaru asked. His sensei moved another piece. Shikamaru smiled, moving yet another piece across the board. It appeared that his own sensei was falling into his trap.

“They tickle each other,” Asuma responded, moving another piece. 

Shikamaru didn’t even notice. His head jerked up immediately and he stared at his sensei as if he had just been betrayed. Sure, he was smart, but when annoyed like this (by someone he trusted) it was easy to mess up.

Or maybe…he saw this coming all along and wanted a challenge.

~

“Really? He agreed to spar against me?” Naruto asked as he was nudged forward by his old sensei. Kakashi was so excited to see this match, but there was no way that he could spoil the surprise. When Asuma had told him the plan, Kakashi couldn’t contain his laughter. Why Asuma was choosing now to start this match was abundantly clear. Ever since the loss of Sasuke and the knowledge that the Akatski were hunting Naruto down, the whole village felt on edge. With this tickle match between two of the most promising young ninjas in the entire village, spirits were bound to bounce back to the positive. 

“He did. Asuma went to me himself and said so. Now, I don’t want you both to tear up the village, so I recommended that you two spar in our old part of the field.” Kakashi said, patting Naruto on the back. Honestly, he was so proud of his entire team for making it through these rough times.

Well, he was proud of about ⅔ of team seven. Both Naruto and Sakura had come so far in terms of power and skill. They weren’t the same band of bratty kids he had trained all of those years before. But, he was willing to bet that Naruto was still as ticklish as he had been when they first began training. He could still remember those days as if they were yesterday. Naruto had always been the one to fall underneath Sakura and Sasuke’s tickly fingers, though Kakashi started to wonder if that was on purpose. Sure, there had been a couple of times when Sakura had been the victim, but that had been towards the end of their training days together. 

“Shikamaru actually agreed to that? Wow. He must have really changed while I was gone. Usually he thinks sparring is such a drag,” Naruto said. He was practically skipping over to the training fields. Some things just never change. 

“Right, of course, have you spoken to Shikamaru? Before this?” Kakashi asked.

“No? He thinks stuff like this is a real drag. I figured that talking about it may bore him too much.” Naruto said with a small shrug. Kakashi understood that sentiment, but still felt a little bad for the kid. As they reached the top of the hill, he decided that he needed to tell Naruto the rules before the kid accidentally blew up the entire field without thinking.

“Remember how we used to train together in this field?” Kakashi asked, but before he would let the kid’s head spiral through thoughts of their missing teammate, he continued on. “When we used to train without hurting each other?”

Naruto stumbled. 

“Y-yeah. I remember, why?” Naruto asked, not yet piecing these parts together. 

“Because you will be sparing with Shikamaru by the same rules we used to train by. So, whoever calls for their sensei’s help first loses,” Kakashi said, patting Naruto on the back one last time before disappearing into the nearby stands. Naruto could practically feel his soul leaving his body. He turned around and stared at the empty space where Kakashi once stood. He thought, just for a second, of just disappearing just like his sensei did. But no. He was going to be the future Hokage of the Hidden Leaf Village, he couldn’t just run and hide. With a nervous smile, Naruto finished his long walk up the hill where Shikamaru was waiting.

“Finally. I was starting to think that all of this waiting was too much of a drag.” Shikamaru sighed heavily. He didn’t even take his hands out of his pockets as Naruto arrived. It did bother him slightly that Shikamaru never really took spars like this seriously. 

“I was just getting fired up! Being the future Hokage is hard work after all!” Naruto said, smiling and taking a couple hops of each foot to get himself ready. 

“If you pass out, I just learned how to revive people, Naruto!” Sakura called down. Everyone seemed to have a spot in the nearby tree branches, almost as if they were sitting in a stadium to watch a brawl. Naruto actually didn’t know how to respond to that. True, he had only ever passed out a couple of times, but that really hadn’t been his fault. If Rock Lee would have just listened to him those few times, he wouldn’t have ended up in the infirmary.

“Are you ready yet? The build ups to these types of things are such a drag. I’d rather just get to winning so I can get back to my game of Shoji.” Shikamaru said, finally taking his hands out of his pockets and wiggling his fingers as he did.

“Alright, you two. Both of you should know the rules by now. No physical harm done to the other and don’t blow up the village,” Kakashi told them, raising his arm up. Naruto shifted, getting ready to pounce at the first available opening. He could do this.

Kakashi’s hand dropped, signalling for the spar to start. Immediately, Shikamaru crouched into position and moved his hands to perform his shadow jutsu. Immediately, Shikamaru’s own shadow began to stretch, getting ready to attack. Naruto immediately jumped back, knowing exactly what his friend had in mind. A few years ago, he may not have had these reflexes, but things have definitely changed.

Several shadow arms shot forward, racing straight towards Naruto. The blonde scampered away, careful not to cross through the shadows of the woods that everyone was watching them in. Naruto flipped, jumped, and twisted around as the shadows rushed towards him. He dodged as the shadow hands reached and clawed for his open sides. 

“Shadow Clone Jutsu!” Naruto yelled, twisting his fingers together in a specific form. Suddenly, about a dozen copies of him were descending upon Shikamaru. 

“Which one is it?”

“Who’s the real one?”

“Looks like I’m gonna win this time!”

“Believe it!” 

Each Naruto copy seemed to have something to say to the kneeling shadow ninja. They bounced around the shadow arms. A few were exposed as the copy as shadow arms shot through them and the copies exploded into smoke. The real Naruto was already behind Shikamaru, flying through the air. This was going to be so easy. The other ninja was still crouched there, unable to see where the real Naruto was. Naruto was so damn proud of himself. Finally, he could say that he beat the so-called smartest ninja in the –

Two shadow hands grabbed his ankles. He was pulled, upside down, in front of Shikamaru’s crouched form. Naruto punched at the air and wriggled helplessly in the grip. The other clones disappeared into several puffs of smoke as Naruto lost his concentration on holding them steady. He hung there by his ankles, his shirt and jacket dangling due to gravity. 

“How’d you know I was the real one?! Do you have eyes on the back of your head?” Naruto asked, absolutely baffled as to how Shikamaru could have somehow seen him. 

“What a drag. Of course you would use your shadow clones to distract me and then attack from behind. “ Shikamaru said with a heavy sigh, but there was a small smile that quirked the sides of his lips as shadowy hands began to crawl up and down Naruto’s torso.

“Wahihihhihit! Wait! I can stihhihihihll get out of thihihhis!” Naruto giggled. He could come up with some kind plan. He just couldn’t get too tickled crazy. 

The hands began to scatter all around his body, tickling and squeezing away at every piece of exposed flesh they could find. Little hands began to squeeze the areas between his ribs, poke at his sides, and scratch at his underarms. The laughter just kept building as Naruto wiggled and squirmed in the grip of Shikamaru’s shadows.

“Get his feet!” Ino called out from her perch. 

“Get his stomach!” Sakura called out as well.

“NOHHOHHOHO NO HELPINHIHIHIHING! AHAHAHA!” Naruto cackled, unable to stop himself. His face was turning a bright shade of red from the tickles, the outside help, and being held upside down. He couldn’t let the hands drift anywhere near his most ticklish spots. 

“I don’t exactly need their help, Naruto. It’s pretty obvious where your weak spots are.” Shikamaru said, letting the tickling shadow hands shift Naruto around so he wasn’t upside down anymore. If the tickles didn’t get him to pass out, the blood rushing to his head would. 

As he was shifting the blond around, Naruto managed to get his hands together and create a small ball of energy just like he had learned to do with his new sensei. The sudden light destroyed the nearby shadow arms. Naruto collapsed onto the ground in a heap, but he bounced immediately back up onto his feet. 

“Shadow Clone Jutsu!” Naruto called out one more time, dozens more clones of him appeared. Before Shikamaru could really understand what was going on, about half a dozen clones descended onto him. He was pushed down onto his back with two Naruto’s holding onto his arms, spreading them apart so he couldn’t go back into his jutsu. Wiggling fingers from two other Naruto’s began to descend onto his torso.

And…nothing happened. Shikamaru stared up at him, a smug look on his face. The real Naruto, expecting laughter, stared back. He paled at the realization. This wasn’t a fair sparing match at all! His sensei just wanted someone to tickle him! 

“His back! His back!” Ino cried out. While she wasn’t a huge fan of Team 7, she had been on the receiving end of those tickly shadow hands one time too many. She knew exactly how to take Shikamaru down a peg or too if he was getting too cocky. 

The Naruto clones easily flipped over Shikamaru so that he was laying on his stomach instead. For a moment, Naruto wondered why it was so easy to flip the ninja over. Two Narutos began to squeeze and poke at Shikamaru’s back, four hands jumping up and down the poor guy’s back. Two hands stayed around his shoulder blades while two others began clawing at his lower back.

Finally, Shikamaru broke. His forehead pressed against the coarse grass and dirt and he began to laugh. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you laugh like this, Shikamaru!”

“That’s such a cute laugh!”

“You should let people tickle you more!”

“On your back? I can’t believe you’re so ticklish here.” 

The Narutos teased as they continued to tickle the shadow ninja. 

“Youhahahahaa aren’t goihihihihng to win that ehihihihiasily.” Shikamaru laughed. Naruto was about to retort when Shikamaru jumped forward, breaking free of the restraints rather easily. (Why did he let himself get flipped over and get tickled?) 

Shikamaru tackled the real Naruto to the ground, tugged his shirt up, and blew just about the biggest raspberry he could right over Naruto’s navel. 

“AHHHHH WAAAA AHAAAA!” Naruto screamed, immediately dissolving into a puddle of laughter and screeches. 

“Do you give up, Naruto?” Shikamaru asked, placing his thumbs over Naruto’s hip bones. Naruto took in a gasp of air to respond, but Shikamaru blew another raspberry instead of letting him answer. Those thumbs also dug into Naruto’s poor hips as well as an extra measure. 

~~~~

“Was that really necessary, Shikamaru?” Sakura asked as she cradled Naruto’s head in her lap. He would come back to consciousness soon, especially since she was helping revive the chakra in his body. 

“I thought he could handle it. What a drag.” Shikamaru huffed. He did feel bad though. He hadn’t meant for Naruto to pass out like that. 

Naruto gasped and sat up with a start. He immediately singled out Shikamaru and pounced on him again.

“I’ll get you! No one does that to the future Hokahahahahahahage!” Naruto exclaimed, but his declaration was short-lived as Shikamaru began tickling Naruto to get him off again. 

“What sort of training do you call this again, Kakashi sensei?” Ino asked, crossing her arms over her chest. 

“I like to think it’s endurance,” Kakashi said with a small shrug.

“You mean…you don’t actually have a reason for this,” Ino said, looking at Kakashi up and down like she was just seeing him for the first time. 

“It’s just fun,” Kakashi said before jumping down to accompany the other two ninjas on his former team. Ino stared at him. She was so thankful right now to be on team 10. Team 7 training didn’t really seem like any sort of regular training.

19/25

 -Ga!babe

[pangolin-404]

 pokemon rejuvenation liveblog pt. 2: electric boogaloo

(spoilers up to 2nd gym badge)

Someone from the previous post suggested I trade my Rockruff for another Rockruff that would evolve into Dusk Form Lycanroc so I did that! And he ended up being very powerful! Thank u

I end up staying at route 2 and putting off Shinx acquisition because I don’t want to spend 300 dollars for one trip. Some guy ran into me and stole 2000 off me and I’m prepared to commit a war crime

At some point I do go back to East Gearen and finish all the side quests and get the Shinx (replacing the Nidorina). Including the jerk who sicked circus lions on me. I also get the Zygarde Cube and start collecting them which is cool

Some others and MC go into Amethyst Cave looking for another person who went missing, and some Team Xen grunts tell us they pushed her off a bridge and she’s definitely dead. One of the higher ups even shows one of her items to prove it. At this point I’m doubtful she’s dead because we’ve all heard the trope of someone-dies-but-surprise!-they-just-lost-that-item

Once we get out I end up talking to the village sensei and he asks me to get this Soul Stone. He tries contacting her spirit with it but fails so he says she’s definitely moved on (I am still suspicious)

I eventually go do some of the side quests for THIS town and explore this ancient library. I get swarmed by 500 million Unown. The woman who speared a boat through, killed someone, and possible enslaved some others was there and stole a mega ring, which was interesting. I feel like she projected some childhood trauma while mocking me

I collect some books and awkwardly sidestep what I thought was the ghost of some lost victorian era child to put the books back in the shelf. apparently that was in fact the overworld sprite of an Elgyem, which got so hyped I filled a bookshelf they threw themself at me so now I have one of those now. i exit the library and don’t give the guy who hired me a book that translates an ancient language. I note this because I’m not sure if that’ll be relevant later

I completed a quest but when I went to tell the woman her boyfriend is safe, she proceeded to reveal her true form as a Ditto, as the real person walked in (very confused). The Ditto transforms to mimic a Jirachi plush and runs off. i feel like i’ll see them again some day

The Sherian gym leader, who is also the sensei who suffers from lots of family issues and depression, confirms 

I lost 2 too many times to the Sheridan gym leader so I go to the clown tent thing and set game mode to casual. I gently ignore the mess that is the family drama of this town and beat the gym leader

but i do not get the badge. i am sitting there with my maxed out team looking for the badge where is it i want to see more numbers go up

I forgot when but at some point MC finds out the Sensei ripped his own emotions out, and his emotion-soul-thing is just kinda lurking in this cave oasis like that’s not eerie at all

There’s a funny little AI named SEC who gets very angry and I just think he’s neat. he keeps blowing himself up. There’s another AI named CLARA and she’s cool too

While running around I find a Mime. Jr and get flashbacks to a Tumblr post like “I found this guy and of course I saved him! Apparently he’s MISSABLE because this place BLOWS UP” and I go “OH” and snatch the baby

I also see a couple of grunts from earlier. They bickered but they seemed chill. One of them was in a test tube alongside Pokemon and I’m just like “oh no im sure that won’t hurt my heart later” and awkwardly leave the other grunt to her scheming

I’m not entirely sure what series of events went down but the Sensei was underneath a mountain perhaps working for Team Xen, after giving them ownership of the village in his younger years which is?? something dude you need help

MEWTWO WWOWOWO

Keta (the Sensei) Actually Dies by Mewtwo’s hand to buy MC and a couple others time to Not Die and shut off the generator

The Rift Pokemon is a Volcanion infant fused to machinery to function as a power generator that I have to destroy (read: kill) so it can be set free. I am canonically a child I feel like MC will not go through this without some trauma

Mewtwo and Evil Person Who Made Him appear and Mewtwo goes rogue and strangles her and everything starts going downhill

So we’re teleported away by this lady and her Gothitelle and the facility has a meltdown. I’m not sure what Crescent’s deal is but she seems to know what’s going on and other folks seem scared of her?

(Note I’m not sure if the grunt and her friend-in-a-test-tube-being-tortured are alive but if they are I can’t wait to see what tragedy that turns out to be)

Apparently MC was missing for a week before falling from the sky

The village Eldest shows me a place where I can purify shadow Pokemon which is neat

I take two steps and the emotion-soul-Keta from earlier appears and demands to battle me so I can put his soul to rest. Finally, after I win, he hands over the 2nd badge and dissolves like a bath bomb

His statue explodes into existence and I realize I’m probably going to face off 4 more ghosts because why else would there be 4 more pedestals exactly like the one Keta’s on

FINALLY I CAN HIT LEVEL 30 but nobody on my team will evolve until then unless I find a leaf stone for Wigglethorn the Weepinbell BUT I’M GETTING THERE

+The Lads