#i dunno why he's shirtless with pants and boots

[anannua]

Congrats on 2k!!! Yay for 2000 people w/ impeccable taste!

Lately I've been thinking a lot about a cowboy au for Kakashi and Tenzo, so if Kakayama cowboys strikes your fancy, then yeehaw! If you aren't feeling the cowboy thing, really any Kakayama AU would be so so lovely. Anything you like would be perfect!

Congrats again! And thanks for making such beautiful art!! So happy to be one of the 2000 💖

🤠

[beevean]

I decided to break down down this absolutely beautiful poster because I love it and there is some interesting content to notice <3

Starting from the big character portraits:

The Hecboi being his usual badass self. You can spot his earrings which I love, it's such a cute detail <3

Isaac practicing his "step on me daddy" routine. yes sir i get it your boots are fabulous and your pants can't contain your d

I find highkey underrated how Kojima associated him with skulls in official artwork. I wish it didn't get lost in time lol.

Trevor, my friend Trevor :) much more serious than the sass master he is in the game lol

Julia taking care of Hector's Innocent Devils :)

Side note, while I love most of their designs in the game, I find Kojima's idea of what Hector and Isaac's Devils could look like very fascinating. I like how she draws dragons.

The big man himself, St. Germain standing in front of a clock, and Zead holding a four-leafed clover for good luck (+ Isaac again lol)

Now, the more minute detail, going anti-clockwise:

Not only we can see Dracula's Castle, but the figure in the center is the Devil Forgery lab in the PtR manga:

Another underrated detail of lore :)

Oh, this one is just. juicy <3 It took me ages to understand what's going on, but with some help I finally realized it.

So this is essentially the moment where Hector went to Dracula and was like "hey boss, would you mind if you stopped to order me to kill humans? dunno if you noticed but i'm human too and it feels weird. thanks", and Dracula was like "hmm. let me think about it. no. have a nice day :)".

In the PtR manga, it was depicted like this:

With Dracula threatening Hector with his extended claws, and then throwing him off the castle keep. i don't know what you were expecting, man

But in the poster, he's straight up holding Hector by his throat and stabbing him with the fingers of his bat wings! So much that you can see blood dripping from his mouth! Ouch!

This only proves my headcanon that Devil Forgemasters are superhuman and can withstand wounds that would kill a normal person.

also, between this and his sippy attack in the game proper, dracula sure likes to manhandle hector a little too much.

the besties going to work <3

You have no idea how much this little drawing pisses me off. This is the closest thing I have of a canon depiction of Hector and Isaac working as Devil Forgemasters.

I need to see them slaughtering humans together in my bloodstream D: not even NFCV had the courtesy of depicting a villain Hector actually doing villain things D: guys. guys the potential-

Aside from that, this also incidentally proves that PtR's interpretation of Isaac's fabulous outfit (being what is left of his normal Devil Forgemaster outfit after Hector destroyed it) is retroactive. My man was apparently already going shirtless just because he felt like it. Imagine being killed by Dracula's most loyal soldier and your last sight in life is his tiddies. King shit.

also

yeah it's stupid but that's the vibe i get lol

I get it, Kojima-san, you love your blorbo. understandable

A bit more seriously, I really appreciate how much Isaac doesn't have the certified Kojima Pretty Man face, he's instantly recognizable. I like his big nose :)

Hector practicing Devil Forging, a smaller version of this panel from the PtR manga:

I like how in the poster it looks like a typical yin-yang symbol, but also closer to the black-and-white motif of the Devil Forging crest :) they look like two lil dragons chasing each other.

why does isaac look 150% more naked without his shoulder armor

It's hard to tell which even this is supposed to represent. I guess it's his defeat at Hector's hands, if we take the black splotches on the ground as his outfit being slashed. Notice the crest on the floor, similar to the intro of the game!

The worsties fighting. Hector is pissed and Isaac is a troll, must be a day ending in Y. they're flirting

The End! Hard to tell if it's Hector's golden Devil or Abel, but it looks awesome <3

This one... puzzles me. I can tell that Hector is being attacked by some little devils and he's defending himself. But why is he using a small pumpkin as a weapon??

(what if this is him trying to defend rosaly from the mob who accused her of being a witch :<)

Hector angsting. Sadly I'm not sure of what kind of flower that's supposed to be, perhaps a dandelion? I wish it was a lily of the valley like in PtR.

Our friend Trevor again. Interesingly, in the full poster, Isaac and Trevor are directly mirroring each other.

Trevor being like "bruh are you for real" after whipping Hector's ass black and blue. (i hate his second fight so much...)

I would say "Hector's revenge", but actually it looks like he's bleeding and in pain. So... I think this the moment when Dracula nearly clawed Trevor's eye out.

Trevor and Isaac fighting! Love that scene in the game :D

isaac how are you even twisting yourself. what are you doing. you're showing off, aren't you.

Not sure about what location these ruins are supposed to be, but fascinating detail of the skeleton holding a scale of justice. It's close to Zead...

tl;dr i want to eat this poster because it's just so fucking good and a great way to summarize the game

[hearts-are-connected]

Self-indulgent snippet, don't come for me.

A gift for @pinkomcranger

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

It's only been a day since their next-door neighbors decided to take down the two large trees in their backyard, along with one in the front. Only having the money to get them cut, but not hauled away. To Saga's surprise, given Alex's known hatred of the outdoors, he'd volunteered to lend the folks a hand.

Casey assisted in cutting large pieces of tree branches and logs down to a manageable size for truck pick-up. It's not as if Saga hasn't seen Alex shirtless; they have a son for crying out loud; she's seen everything the man has to offer. That said, there's something different about seeing her husband shirtless now, dressed in only a pair of pants and work boots. Sawdust and dirt stick to his bare torso as beads of sweat run down his body. Watching from their window, Saga can't help feeling a little hot herself.

His lean frame sits out for the world to see as he lifts log after log onto his shoulders, tossing them to a pile meant for disposal. Even using a chainsaw a few times to cut them down for easier handling. She'd never seen this side of Casey before, but she was deeply enamored with it. 

As the sun began to set, the profiler watched as her husband slowly trekked back towards their house. Saga stayed in her spot by the window until the front door opened, the man's panting quickly reaching her ears. She hears him take a glass from the cabinet, and she hears the tap of the sink as he fills it, but she doesn't hear him approach their bedroom. Creeping out of the entryway, she peeks out into the kitchen.

Unashamedly, Saga ogles the man as his adam's apple bobs with every swallow. She licks her lips in turn as he disappears from view to refill the glass. Leaning back into their bedroom, Saga tousles her loose hair in the mirror before heading out, and stepping around the island of their kitchen to find him lying on the tile. His second glass of water, this one half-finished, is sitting on the counter.

"You stink, cowboy."

Saga can't help biting at her lip as she drinks in his haggard appearance, kneeling down to sit beside him as he lay there. Inching closer, he moves until his temple can rest against her thigh, the sweat from his hair leaving a damp spot on her skin.

"You don't," he swallows, taking in a deep breath and letting it out before locking eyes with her, "say, Saga. I can't imagine why I would smell so bad."

"It's not a bad look for you, though," she laughs, stroking back his hair as she leans down and captures his mouth. He tastes like salt and earth as he kisses her back, grabbing at the back of her head to pull her in closer.

"How about I get a shower, and then we can continue this in the bedroom?"

"I dunno, Alex. I think you need someone to scrub your back."

Her heart skips as a deep groan sounds in his throat, his lips catching hers one more time before he's up from the floor with her in his arms. 

"I'm all yours, Anderson."

[bitchassbucky]

Ｂｏｔｈｅｒ

📎Word Count: 2.2k

📎Warning/s: smut! minors DNI. mean!fuckboy!bucky x f!reader. unprotected sex. little to no foreplay, because, well, he just wants to get his dick wet. denied orgasm :( no aftercare too lol he’s an asshole in this one. messy facial! some heckin’ words.

📎A/N: jesus fuckiNG CHRIST okay this is one of my longer fics, i’m trying to get back into writing long fics again so, bear with me. fuckboy!bucky playlist to accompany you while reading this <3 

📎reblogs, likes, and comments are all welcomed! shower me with validation pls

📎Masterlist || Ask || AFTERDARK

The bass line and the drumbeat made your heart pump in sync. The room reeked of cheap drinks and expensive perfume—sweaty patrons swirling, mingling around, keeping their drinks cold, their hearts warm.

Chatter peaked when the band finished the song, a round of applause rising the frontman’s ego. The spotlight shone brightly on him, the stage lights hitting his back, lighting up his silhouette with pinks and purples.

He beams with adrenaline. All perfect smiles.

Slinging his stickered guitar to the side, he speaks into the mic, “thank you all for coming. We’ve been The Commandos. Goodnight!” The frontman flashes his million-dollar, megawatt smile and bows, earning another applause from the audience.

The rest of the band slinked out the back, bowing, giving out air-kisses and waves. Another band piles onto the stage, waving hello to the gathering crowd.

You sigh, the bottom of your shoes sticking to the dirty floor of the bar. The overhead lights of the bar a bright yellow contrast to the stage’s red hue. The beer in your hand condensing, the tips of your fingers damp in the process. The warmth of the place piling on your impatience.

Pushing yourself off the bar, you make your way to the back, one thing echoing in your mind. Familiar faces crowd your vision, sending a polite smile their way.

A door stands in front of you, the wood stained with stickers and posters and autographs. You knock twice before turning the knob.

“Where’s Bucky?” You say, leaning against the door frame. The door slowly swings open.

A blonde man, what’s-his-face, looks at you and puts down a pair of drumsticks, “‘Dunno what to tell ya, but he’s not here.”

Your roll your eyes, sending him a mirthless smile, “yeah, obviously. I was hoping if you could tell him to meet me tonight.”

Steve—you suddenly remembered his name—eyed you head to foot, a smirk plastered on his face, “Sounds important. Why don’t you hang out with us while waiting for him?”

A chuckle escapes your lips, “no, thanks. I’ll meet him outside.”

Steve makes a face, quirking a light brow to the rest of the group. All of them sharing the same look, “alright. Suit yourself.”

The clock ticks just ten minutes after 11, your patience growing thin as a needle. A gaggle of drunk patrons stumbles out the door when you spot him—leather jacket, distressed, ripped pants.

“Where’s my ring?” Without missing a beat.

Bucky’s lips quirk into a smirk, “whoa, baby, we fucked once,” he made you come thrice, “and you’re asking for a ring already?”

A shiver runs up your spine, whether it’s from disgust or something else, it wasn’t clear, “you know what I meant. I left my ring on your nightstand.”

“Deliberately, or…”

Your hands curl up in frustration, your left shin itching, “c’mon. Do you have it or not?” 

His intentionally undone boots scuffed against the floor as he stalks closer to you, his perfume invading your olfactory senses. Oh, he smells good. 

“D’you wanna find out?” His voice dropping a couple of octaves, whispering into the shell of your ear. His thick arms caging you against the bar and the wall. Fuck, he smells really good.

A feeble attempt to make room goes unnoticed, your breath hitching in your throat, “If you don’t have it on you, I’d gladly receive it through the mail.”

Bucky licks his tinged lips, a vein in his temple ticking—the lighting reflecting in his blue eyes, “why would I mail it to you when you can pick it up from my place?”

A rational voice in your head echoes, fighting with your impulse. The closeness of both of your bodies radiating warmth and electricity.

“Fine.” You relented, impulsivity is what got you there in the first place.

The drive to the place shouldn’t take too long, the little shit deliberately took the long way to his place. 

While you sit on the passenger side of his car, he keeps sending you amused glances. As if he couldn’t believe you’d willingly go with him tonight. Well, technically, it really wasn’t part of your plan.

“You wanna get burgers first?” He offers, lowering the music coming from the car’s stereo.

“I wanna get my ring back, Bucky.” You say, reminding him—and yourself—of what your agenda for tonight is.

He dismisses you, as per usual. And pulls over a drive-through of a local burger place, ordering himself a meal.

Instead of getting back out on the highway, he parks the car, rolls down the window, and eats.

“Jesus- fuck, Bucky!” You exclaimed in frustration, “look, if you want to waste my time, then-”

“Then, what?”

“Then go fuck yourself.” You left in a huff, swinging your legs and slamming the car door shut. Hoping that he’d go deaf in one ear.

Making sure that you’re well visible and in a brightly-lit place, you pull out your phone to book an Uber. Only to find Bucky making his way to you for the second time tonight.

“Hey!” Didn’t even used your name to call you, great work!

“I do have it, it’s really back in my place. By the lamp on the bedside table.” The truth lingers out on the night air, waiting for you to acknowledge it.

You meet Bucky’s statement with a wary squint, he meets your rightful doubt with a smile.

“No more stopovers.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Bucky’s place is a liminal space for you. 

The familiar shadows and corners welcome you, the surfaces on where your bare skin sat hissed at you. You stood by the doorway, not wanting to prolong the journey.

“Hey, c’mon, it’s just me. Sit down.” Exactly, it is him.

You shake your head, leaning by the wall like a stranger, “I’m good. You’re not gonna take long anyway.”

But instead of retrieving your jewelry, his form retreats to the kitchen. A few seconds pass and you hear the crack and hiss of a beer bottle being opened.

“Y’know, I think I’ll just get it myself.” You toe off your shoes, placing them by the door. Your jacket still hanging off your shoulders.

You passed by Bucky, walking towards a love seat, two beers on one hand, “hurry up, then. Got a drink for ya.”

Hazy images play by memory the last time you were here, his damn cologne seeping into your nostrils.

Your head hanging by the edge of the bed as he laps your cunt like a man starved.

The headboard supporting your balance as you bounce up and down his thick cock.

Carpeting that gave your knees burn as he fucked you from behind.

Like an etch-a-sketch, you shake your head to get rid of the scenes that made themselves known.

A shining glint from the bedside table catches your eye, you swipe the ring and stashed it down your jacket pocket.

Coming out of the room with your ring, your slight smile falters as you saw Bucky lounging shirtless. As rightfully so, this is his home anyway.

You steeled yourself despite the heat that’s making its way up to your neck, “uh, I already got it. Thanks, Bucky.”

He shoots you a look—a lingering one. Like a predator about to pounce on prey. His stare chasing the goosebumps under your clothes.

“You sure you wanna go? It’s–” he glances at his phone for the time, “–past midnight.”

“I can take care of myself.”

“I know you can.” The setup.

“How about I take care of you for a change?” The trap.

And then just as sudden as your arrival, you find yourself pressed up against the wall. The agenda of the night has already been forgotten.

Bucky’s mouth finds its temporary home on your jaw, moving down your neck. His large hands already clawing their way under your shirt, the suddenness of the moment stirring the heat in your belly.

Rushed hands and panted breaths meet feverish lips.

The moment his tongue slipped into your mouth was the moment where you lost all inhibitions. Your hands fly to his nape, tugging his hair, effectively making him moan into your mouth.

“You know me so well.” He purrs against your lips. Hitching your legs up his hips as he presses you harder against the drywall.

“Lots of people know you so well.” You bite back, knowing for a fact that he sees others behind your back.

“True,” he’s murmuring against your pulse point and you sigh, “you’re my favorite though.”

Your jacket clutters against the floor of his bedroom, along with his pants and your shirt. A yellow stream of light emits from the living room.

Bucky tosses you on the bed, sending the pillows crashing on the floor. Though the room is darkened with curtains, your eyes adjust enough to see him as he pulls your ankles towards him.

His abs are chiseled like a Greek god, his skin tanned, decorated with tattoos. His left nipple adorns a stainless steel piercing. Like the last time, he grabs your hand, trailing it along his torso, letting you feel his deep v-lines.

A lewd moan escapes your lips as you cup his hardening cock through his boxers. Thick and heavy, a perfect fit.

“You like it?” Bucky taunts, jutting his hips against your hand. You squeeze him lightly, earning you a deep groan from the man above you.

His hand suddenly tightens around your throat, pulling your head towards him, “I asked you a question.”

Giving him a small nod and a meek yeah seemed to have sufficed until he flips you on your stomach and forces your face down the bed.

Your skirt joins the growing pile of clothes on the floor. Your panties do too.

“You’re so wet for me, aren’t ya?” Bucky taunts, one thick finger swiping the wetness between your folds. Spreading it around as preparation. A muffled confirmation made him chuckle as he pinches your clit with intention.

Taking his leaking cock out of his boxers, he swipes the bead of precum from his angry-red tip. He takes his sweet, sweet time before even thinking about pushing into your pussy.

Bucky drags the head of his cock up and down your fold, earning a needy moan from you—coating his entire length with your wetness.

After seemingly an eternity on your side, the sheets already imprinted their impression on the side of your cheek. Bucky finally, fucking finally, pushes into you. A short, white-hot burn shoots through your nerves, making you whimper.

His hand stays on the back of your neck, pushing you further down the bed as he moves. Your pussy lips gripping his dick like a vice, “so fucking tight. God.”

Bucky’s chest swelled up with pride as he notices your fingers digging into his sheets, “no one can fuck you this good.”

The bed squeaks with both of your weight shifting as he reaches around you, his fingers working around your bud. The pressure of his upper body makes you gasp with every thrust of his hips.

He continues to work you—his fingers circling tightly on your throbbing clit, his cock nudging the soft, spongy spot in you. Your toes curl with red heat as your orgasm begins to burn up your legs.

“I’m gonna-- ‘m so close,” your pleas fell on deaf ears as Bucky chases his own high. His balls slapping against your skin, his hips stuttering as his cock pulsates inside your velvet walls.

He curses, grabbing your shoulder and flipping you upside, kneeling before you. His hand pumping his dick continuously as it twitches—the veins even more prominent.

“Open your mouth, I’m gonna cum in it.” Bucky orders and you obey. Your fingers finding their way to your abandoned bundle of nerves—your climax threatening to fade away.

Thick ropes of cum shoot over your mouth, painting your lips and chin white as he misses.

“God, fuck, look at your mess.” Bucky sighs, he’s already tucked back into his boxers and handing you a shirt—presumably to clean yourself up.

“You got your ring? Anything else?” The annoyance in his tone is evident. The clock ticks half past midnight.

You dangle your purse in front of him as a gesture, the wind picks up and your shoes are loose on your feet.

“Alright, well, you could wait for your ride here, I guess.” Bucky dropped the act the moment he got his dick in you.

“Yeah, he’s just around the corner. Thanks for the, uh, ring.”

He hums, looking at his phone. His thumbs dancing over the keyboard, “Try not to bother my friends again when you wanna reach me.”

You weren’t sure if you wanted to laugh or to smack the phone out of his hands, “yeah. Tried calling you but I’m pretty sure you blocked my number.”

A curt laugh echoes out from him, “‘m sorry. Out of habit. You know how it is.”

“Right.” And an awkward beat falls over the both of you.

A black car pulls up by the street and you silently thank the stars. By the time you turn around to at least do the right thing and bid Bucky goodnight, you find yourself facing a closed door.

[blake-belladonna-defence-force]

8. "This is why we can't have nice things." 😊😊😊

*sigh* you’re really gonna 😊😊😊 me after you opened Pandora’s box, eh? 😂

Here. Take some Pirate Queen Blake. Hope you enjoy 😊

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“You see… this is why we can’t have nice things.”

“Shut up, Sun.”

“I dunno, man. She’s kinda hot.”

“Neptune.”

“Yes, Blake?”

“Shut. Up.”

Yang let out a miserable moan as she opened her eyes and came to the horrible realisation that she was bound to the mast of a Pirate ship. The exact same pirate ship that she had crept on board in hopes of stealing some of some of their loot for another week’s worth of meals for her and her sister.

Turns out, taking on the Pirate Queen’s ship wasn’t her brightest moment.

“Hey, hot stuff!” A blue haired man in a tunic and leather pants smiled charmingly. Yang noticed, with a small amount of satisfaction, that he had developed a black eye from her right swing. Good. “How-“

“Vasillas!” A feminine voice snapped, voice low and full of warning drew Blake’s attention to the railing of the ship. The figure stepped forward and spoke again, a clear command in her voice. “Step back.”

Yang felt her mouth run dry. The woman’s black hair was long on her right side, shaved on the left. A pair of cat ears, with a notch taken out of the left, sat tall and proud on top of her head. She wore a loose fitted, poofy sleeved shirt that was loosely tucked into a pair of leather pants, though they were mostly hidden by the tight, thigh high boots she wore. She wore a cutlass on her left hip and a pistol on her right. But it was her amber eyes that drew Yang’s attention. They were sharp and focused, a molten gold that threatened to burn her alive.

‘If she wants to burn me, then I’ll walk into those flames.’ Yang thought, her heart beating fast as the woman stalked towards and knelt, grasping her jaw in one hand and angling it, quietly assessing her wounds.

“You split her temple, Sun. I told you we dont use lethal force. You could have killed her.” The woman said sharply, glaring over her shoulder at a blonde, shirtless man, who let out a nervous giggle. “My apologies for my men treating you so roughly. Though, to be fair…” the woman smirked at her, sharp as a dagger. “You did just try to steal from the Pirate Queen of the Shroud. How bold.”

“Eh. Go big or go home.” Yang grinned back through a split lip. She tilted her head slightly. “You gonna kill me?”

“... I don’t kill.” The Queen growled, amber eyes narrowing dangerously as she leaned in close to Yang. “I left that life behind.”

“You’re a fucking pirate!” Yang snorted, tossing her head indignantly. “You steal and destroy lives. I know your game.”

“Who takes from the rich and distributes that wealth where it’s needed!” The Queen snapped, standing up and curling her hand around her cutlass. “I may be a queen of thieves but I have honour. I have fought tooth and claw to get to where I am today.” Yang felt a chill run down her spine as the Queen’s grip tightened on her cutlass with a snarl. “You. Know. Nothing!”

“Excuse me for not believing the old first mate and prized possession of Adam Taurus.”

A sudden silent fell upon the ship and Yang felt the hairs on her neck stand up on end.

“... I may have been a part of that blood thirsty lot once… but I defected.” The Queen’s voice was soft, too soft. Like the quiet that came before a storm kind of quiet. It was unnerving. “I left. I took some of his crew and I promised that I would never let his way of life become our own.” The Queen drew her blade and placed it under Yang’s chin, tilting it up, a warning in her gaze. “Taurus stole from all, rich or poor. We only steal from the rich. Taurus killed all who disobeyed or angered him. We offer chances. Taurus was was nothing more than a bloodthirsty monster… and I refuse to let myself or my men follow that same path.” The Queen smirked bitterly. “Think of us like Robin Hood and his Merry Men. Now… the question remains of what to do with a little stowaway that tried to steal from me.”

“... You could let me go?”

“Or you could join me.” The Queen threw back, much to the various noises of annoyance from her crew. “You fight better than any of my men. You’re strong. You’ve got a certain fire within you. You’d do well with us.”

“And if I refuse?”

Yang felt her eyes widen in sudden fear as the Queen, with no warning, pulled her cutlass back and swung…

Only to miss Yang completely and slice into the ropes that bound her.

“Then you’re free to go. It’s obvious that you had your reasons from stealing from me and honestly?” The Queen smiled, almost seeming amused. “I admire your tenacity. But know this…” Yang watched as the Queen resheathed her cutlass and pulled out her pistol and unloaded the shells into an open palm, picking one and replacing the rest before returning the gun to its holster. She held up the bullet and showed it to Yang with a dangerous smirk. “Steal from me again and you’ll have a bullet with your name on it. Now… your choice?”

Yang’s choice seemed easy at that moment. She had her sister and her friends to worry about. She had to leave.

But little did she know that she wouldn’t be able to stay away.

[loveafterthefact]

Love After the Fact Chapter 61: In the Company of Blades

In which Keith has friends, Lance gets to show off, and Shiro wants Adam to step on him

First  Previous  Next

“Anyway, that’s where we are right now. One thing at a time, and I will come up with a meal plan, just in case,” Thace says. They’re rushing through hallways to get to the training yards.

“Thanks.” Keith twists his hair into a large knot on the back of his head, keeping it in place with a pin. “And thanks for the pin.”

“No problem. I just hope you don’t get impaled through your skull.”

“Hasn’t happened yet. Miraculously. We are very late.” Which means probing questions from one Altean, and a probing stare from another. One, Keith can’t say no to -because he’s soft- and the other, Keith is too scared to lie to.

“Fortunately, it’s easy to blame your health. So long as we can keep Lance’s mouth shut.”

“Right...” Keith is about to explain, but Thace's exasperated groan tells him he doesn't have to.

The training grounds are divided into a series of yards, with walls erected for privacy and so no one takes up too much space. Some are large, some small, some flat, some full of obstacles and ground cover, climbing walls, chasms, even stands of trees. There are even places to practice elk-riding, a means of preserving the ancient history of the mounted warriors of old. The Marmora have more respect for tradition than one might think.

When Thace and Keith arrive, they’re beholden to quite the spectacle. Adam, wielding a polearm, squaring off with one of Kolivan’s two kits, Antok. Regris, his other kit, is standing next to his father. Both are grown, but were raised by the Blades, and remain quite close to their sire.

Regris apparently got the good end of the stick, because Antok is getting his ass kicked by the smaller Altean. Adam’s polearm is indeed double-ended, this one equipped with glaives, which he’s currently using to repel Antok. The Altean is also wearing gauntlets with small blades attached, good for slashing throats if an enemy gets too close. Keith imagines that they also discourage grappling.

It’s strange, but Keith has never once in his life thought of Adam as a warrior. He’s always the behind-the-scenes man, and battle tends to be so upfront and personal. Seems Keith was wrong, because Adam is good. He’s fast, too, keeping up with Antok’s limbs, which includes an incredibly mobile tail.

Shiro seems to be enjoying the view, watching the fierce-eyed Altean swing his polearm like it’s a toothpick. A very long, dangerous toothpick. “That’s literally the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”

“Gross.” Keith shoves his brother away.

“I want him to impale me,” the larger Galra sighs.

“You’re a pervert.”

“I concur with Keith,” Thace murmurs.

“Yeah? Well neither of you gets an opinion because you were both late.”

“Health thing,” Keith murmurs. “Where’s Lance?”

“Three yards down, showing off his marksmanship skills. Are you okay? Is something wrong?”

“Nothing at all,” Keith murmurs. “I just had a few questions.”

“Ah.” Shiro shifts awkwardly. They’re still a bit uncomfortable, despite putting their disagreement behind them, and being otherwise normal with each other. “Listen.”

The fact that Shiro bothers to turn away from Adam’s totally-not-an-exhibition is a contributing factor as to why Keith actually does choose to listen to his brother’s opinion.

“I’m here for you. No matter what. Know that.”

Keith smiles. That sounds like his brother. “ I know. Thanks. I’ll let you know if I need you. Or Lance will let you know because I refuse to ask you for help.”

“Yeah, I know.”

Adam finally manages to disarm Antok, spinning his polearm and holding it behind his back.

“Well, Remind me never to push Adam over the edge. I’m gonna go see what Lance is up to.”

“You do that,” Shiro murmurs. “I’m gonna go find a deserted hallway and bring your attendant with me.”

“Have fun. Pervert.”

“I will, thanks.”

Rolling his eyes, Keith trots over to the other field, curious to see what Lance has got up to. Thace hurries right behind him, scanning the facility. “Where the fuck is my mate?”

“Who cares about your mate? Where’s- mine…”

As it turns out, Keith’s mate is firing arrows from the back of a galloping elk. And every shot is perfect. He’s also shirtless, which is really great, but kind of gross because he’s doing that weird ‘sweating’ thing that Alteans do, where they get all wet and slippery. Why can’t they just pant to cool off like a normal species?

But whatever. It’s still incredibly impressive. Especially since the targets, little floating spheres, are both moving and firing at him. And it’s nice to see Lance in his element. He’s got a borrowed bow in one hand, a couple arrows between the fingers of the other, another between his grinning teeth.

“Good to know your chosen mate isn’t entirely useless,” a gruff voice murmurs from behind. Kolivan’s followed them from the other field. “Wasn’t sure about him when Shirogane came back with a report on his swordsmanship. He’s actually an incredible shot.”

“Yeah, he’s pretty great.”

The only thing better is the way Lance’s face brightens when they make eye contact. He removes the arrow from his mouth. “Hey, beloved! See something you like?”

“Hm. Not sure. You should go around again so I can decide.” Keith’s smirk morphs into a grin. “I take it you're enjoying yourself?”

“I am kicking ass! This is so much fun! Can’t believe I’ve never tried this before! Also, this is Bruna, and I love her.”

Keith smiles as Lance hangs his bow from the elk’s saddle, stroking the doe’s soft, red fur. “You know she’s carnivorous, right?”

“All close friends have their points of contention, and admittedly her terrifying teeth are… one of those things, but she’s also loyal, and fast, and very sweet.”

Keith eyes the elk skeptically, gaze lingering on her four sharpened antlers crowning her head and the filed horns protruding from her face. “This sharp, vicious creature is your friend?”

“Bruna will be loved and adored by yours truly all the days of her life.”

“Okay. Good luck convincing your father to let you bring her home.”

“Oh, I don’t have to convince either of my parents of anything. I just have to convince you.”

Keith stares down the hopeful look in his ridiculous elk-loving husband’s face. He’s thoroughly unmoved by those large, pleading, blue-and-pink eyes. Completely unswayed… Except… “If you’re getting one, I should get one too. It will give us an excuse to spend time together without being buried in tablets.”

“See, this is why I love you.”

“I love you too. Now shoot some more arrows so I can watch.”

“Okay, should I put my shirt back on, or-”

“No, it’s fine.” A sly smile. “You can keep it off if you like.”

Lance quirks an eyebrow before lifting his bow again -Does he have to show off that he can ride with no hands?- and preparing to continue his practice.

“When you’re done flirting,” Kolivan mutters. “Your mother is waiting to kick your ass.”

“Yeah, okay.” Keith looks around. “Where did Thace go?”

“I dunno. Probably to stick his tongue in Ulaz’ mouth.” Kolivan sighs, leading him to yet another training room. “I’d been counting on you to be the only one of these idiots to keep it in their pants.”

“What about your sons?”

“Pfft. Found mates while you were gone. They’re always… visiting.”

“Gross… Well, I promise never to visit you.”

The Galra chuckle. Kolivan never really has a lot to say, but what he does have to say is either incredibly serious or mildly amusing. He’s an acquired taste. One that Keith has acquired in order to survive. Kolivan’s also his mother’s closest companion, so he insists on their getting along, despite what one might call ‘creative differences’ when it comes to leadership roles.

Essentially, Kolivan’s an unapologetic, amazingly blunt asshole and Keith tries his best to be more… constructive.

“It’s about time you showed up.”

“Hey, Mom. Sorry. I stopped by the med ward.”

“Okay.” She goes easily, drawing her sword. “But don’t expect me to go easy on you.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

That’s what Keith loves about his mother: the understanding. For only having known each other for two years, they share so much: a loss, a condition, a passion for the personal freedoms that their rulers restrict until they can barely breathe.

But Keith and his mother find a way. They dig their roots into unwelcoming ground. They learn to thrive. They draw breath.

And swords. Krolia has Keith panting in minutes, forcing him to the brink of his skills. He really is out of shape, but he’s missed this. He’s missed this challenge, this push, this direct, up-front, physical confrontation where no one is screaming, or complaining, and there’s no stack of work staring at him from behind another stack of work. Just him, trying his damndest to beat the crap out of someone who can actually match with him.

And, surprisingly, he’s doing well. His stamina and strength have taken a hit, but he’s picked up forms and techniques on Altea that give him an edge.

The Galra know how an Altean fights, but Keith knows how they think, why they make the choices they do. Their aim isn’t disarming or killing an enemy. A Galra's aim is to defeat the enemy, to beat them into submission until the ground beneath thier boots is painted red. An Altean’s aim is to make it past the enemy toward a larger goal, and do it as quickly and efficiently as possible.

Krolia isn’t his enemy. She’s just in the way. So, dodging a slash of Krolia’s sword, Keith slips past his mother, elbowing her in the kidney as he darts past. Krolia doesn’t flinch, even as she turns to stare at her son, but nobody can fully brush off a hit to the kidney, and she lowers her sword, panting her way through the pain since she has the option.

“What was that?” she asks.

“I applied a different philosophy. In a mission, you wouldn’t be my target, and I saw no reason to waste my time dispatching you.” Keith shrugs. “Why bother?”

“Because I could have gathered information on you-”

“You didn’t. In this scenario, you, an unnamed, random assailant, are not worth killing, and I have a different mission.”

“And what might that mission be?”

“I…” Keith pauses. “I hadn’t thought that far. I just wanted to show off.”

“Clearly.” Krolia looks her son up and down, amused. “I don’t understand, but you seem to think you’ve achieved something, so-”

“HA!!!”

“AHhhhhh!!!”

“-So what the fuck was that?” Krolia growls, adjusting her grip on her sword.

“I’m not sure, but that was Lance and Adam, so something’s probably being destroyed.” Keith sighs, heading back to Lance’s field. “Welcome to my life.”

Lance is indeed messing around with Adam, wielding a broadsword with an adequate amount of skill -a miracle, honestly, and one courtesy of Keith- while Adam comes at him with his polearm.

From behind the fighting idiots, Shiro grins at him, notching his head at Lance. Keith presses his lips together to hide his smile, ducking his head. He knows he’s doing a good job, but to have someone else say it means a lot.

“I thought you said he didn’t have any skills,” Krolia murmurs, watching the Alteans go back and forth.

“That’s what I thought.” Keith lifts his gaze back to his chosen mate, the glint in his eyes as he experiments with the sword in his hand, figuring out how to make it more effective against Adam’s chosen weapon. “But I was wrong. He just needed some more one-on-one coaching. He’s typically quite capable on his own, but always better when he’s working with others. He’s a people person.”

“That is one of the many, many reasons I don’t understand why you love that little creature,” Krolia murmurs.

“He’s a good buffer. He does all the talking, and I just stand there and look pretty.”

That’s not entirely true, less so as time goes on, but for some reason, Keith doesn’t want to share all that much about his life on Altea. It almost feels too personal, like he’s not ready to share his experiences with anyone yet.

“Hm, I’d think looking pretty would be his job,” Thace teases, clinging to Ulaz’ waist. Ulaz himself only nods, a more quiet kind of friendly than his mate, but friendly all the same. His fondness for Keith is indicated by a softened eyebrow, rather than a smile.

“No, but he does it exceptionally well.”

The corner of Ulaz’ mouth quirks. “Perhaps you can both come over to our place tomorrow and look pretty around our table. The kits want to see you, Mashan in particular. Besides, the hunting party returns tomorrow. A little lizard told me that they slew a pack of vakalt. Herdsmen are coming up, too. We can celebrate together, maybe put a few of them up at our den for the night. Get in a few good stories. Also, be forewarned, Lotor wants to speak to Lance outside the castle, so he may 'spontaneously decide to visit'.”

Keith nods. He watches Lance and Adam spar, glancing to his littermate across the yard. So far, his companions have been more than agreeable concerning the Galra way of life. Lance, at least, will enjoy the experience, and Adam will enjoy a chance to crawl all over Shiro. Maybe he’ll even be able to drag Pidge out of their closet. It’ll be nice.

“Sure. We’ll come.” Keith smiles. “Thanks for the invite.”

“Nonsense!” Thace claps him on the shoulder. “You’ll always be one of us, Keith, and you’re always welcome in our home. You, and that Altean of yours.”

“Thanks, guys. I really appreciate that.”

He does. He’s glad that he still has a place here, even if it’s no longer his only home.

[logans-chestnuts]

Owed You One

This fic was requested by @neuroticpuppy. I can’t tag you but I hope you like it! 

"Hey! Mister!" you whisper-yelled at the handsome host sneaking past the room where you were tied to a chair. 

He glanced over at you with the darkest eyes you'd ever seen, looked you up and down as if considering it, then whispered back, "Sorry, darlin', I don't do damsel quests."

You were taken aback. "You're human?" you said, utterly shocked that total perfection such as his was actually just the product of a sperm and an egg. "No shit?"

"No shit," he whispered with a smirk, ego stroked enough to cut you loose. Swaggering over as only a man who had won the genetic lottery can, he pulled a knife out of his boot and set you free. "Hold on, are you bleeding?"

"Heh, yeah. I guess I misunderstood the 'hosts can't hurt you' thing."

Logan shrugged as he finished cutting you loose. "There is a reason we have all our guests sign a waiver."

"We?" you asked as you rubbed the circulation back into your hands. "You work here?"

"Something like that," he said as he looked you over. "You OK?"

"Yeah, I just need to find a horse I can steal and get out of here. My bounty hunter got dead so I'm on my own," you said. "Thanks again, appreciate it."

Logan nodded, intrigued that you really didn't seem like you were going to ask him for help. "Take care, darlin'." If he wasn't there for a very specific reason he would have tried to get you to play for a few days, but alas, he had business to take care of.

Logan had learned that his twisted new brother-in-law had a particular host that he liked as his evil minion as he raped and pillaged his way through the park. No one outside the park would ever believe what down-to-earth Bill, nice guy Bill was capable of; Logan intended to show the rest of the family who he really was.

His hatred for Billy was keeping him sane, his anger was making him devious. He was going to find evidence of what a sick cunt William was if it was the last thing he did.

You snuck off, leaving the impossibly handsome rescuer behind. 

You had decided to go on after your companion/guide had been killed. This was your second trip to the park so you thought you knew what you were getting into, but you had obviously bitten off more than you could chew when you had decided to go after Slim Miller despite the bounty hunter telling you needed a bigger posse. 

You still snickered remembering your retort: "I thought men preferred a tight posse?"

Holden was the ultimate white hat, though, and he didn't respond to your quip except to sigh about your stubbornness. 

After you had cornered Slim, you had been overconfident; he overpowered Holden and took you hostage instead, telling you how much his friends were going to enjoy you. You had felt the cold fingers of horror slide down your back, having to talk yourself down by reminding yourself that hosts couldn't hurt you, but goddamn, it had been terrifying. It pretty much became a mantra as Slim had led you to Pariah, hands bound to your saddle. The hosts can't hurt you, the hosts can't hurt you.

Which was how you found yourself in Pariah. It was truly the wild West equivalent of Sodom and Gomorrah. Brothels, booze, naked people wandering around, guns and gambling right out in the open everywhere one could look. 

You weren't quite sure what your captor's endgame was: he couldn't actually hurt you, so tying you up seemed silly. Maybe you were supposed to escape. In any case, escape was your new and improved plan since it didn't look like you were going to capture Slim and return him to justice. 

You shook off your questions. It didn't matter now and the distraction could get you recaptured. You needed a weapon, some food and water and a horse. A plan would be nice but it looked like you were going to have to wing it.

Logan was also playing it by ear. He had followed William to Pariah, wondering what he was doing since he had been so uppity about playing the game as if it were actually a game. All it seemed like he was doing was fucking and killing hosts, the goddamn hypocrite.

He had absolutely no idea how he was going to prove anything. There was no tech allowed into the park unless it was for a medical condition, and for the most part the park wasn't handicap-friendly. Bottom line, even if Logan did see more of William's cold, sadistic behavior, he had no way to record it.

Maybe he really was losing it. How else could he explain his obsession with Billy?

Didn't mean he was going to stop waiting and watching, though. At least he could prove to himself that he wasn't crazy.

You had been amazingly lucky. You had walked past an unoccupied room and there laid your gear like it was waiting for you. Now all you had to do was make it to the stables unseen to get a horse and you could put this embarrassing incident behind you.

As you slinked along a hallway, gun out and saddle bag over your shoulder, you saw your handsome rescuer crouched behind a huge plant. You also saw that there was one of El Lazo's men turning toward where Handsome was hunkered down and it was a matter of seconds before he would be seen, and there really couldn't be a good reason for him to be sneaking around like that.

Thinking quickly, you pulled off your shirt and pants and tossed your things into an unoccupied bedroom, mussed your hair and strolled over to Handsome in your almost-sheer lawn underclothes, looking drunk and like you'd already been bent over several pieces of furniture. 

"Hey, you handsome man!" you bellowed drunkenly. 

Logan followed the sound of your slurred voice and was treated to the sight of you in some very revealing underwear as you staggered toward him. 

"I believe I paid for the whole night with you, so you better get your sweet ass over here and fuck me so hard I won't be able to walk in the morning!" you demanded as only a drunk rich girl could. 

"Shhh," Logan tried to get you to lower your voice, but then he froze when he heard a chuckle behind him.

"Looks like the lady is ready for another round, boy. Better whip that cock out or El Lazo might just decide to cut it off," the passing guard threatened.

Logan had gained his feet and you started rubbing all over him, kissing his neck and groping his ass. "C'mon baby, mama needs to ride that cock again."

"Yeah sweetheart, it's all for you. Let's go back to your room, darlin'," Handsome said with the sexiest smile you had ever seen.

He put his arm around your waist to lead you back to where you had come, his hand sliding down and grabbing a handful of your ass. "Gonna make you feel so good, darlin'" he promised loudly enough so that the guards chuckled and went on his merry way. 

You led Handsome to the room where you had stowed your things and pulled him inside with you.

You both leaned against the door and caught your breath after you almost got caught again. "That was close," you whispered.

"Thanks," Handsome said quietly, then huffed a chuckle. "I thought you were nuts for a second."

"I owed you one," you said dismissively.

"I barely untied you. You went out of your way for me. So really, thank you."

You nodded. You extended your hand and introduced yourself. "So, do you have a name? Because I feel kinda silly calling you Handsome."

"I dunno, I kinda like it," he said with a wink and a charming smile.

"Oh, yeah, of course," you said shyly. "I mean, we'll probably never see each other again as soon as the coast is clear, right?"

Still holding your hand, he dropped a kiss to the back of it very chivalrously. Deciding to trust you, he said, "My name is Logan, but I used a fake name to make my reservations. I'm dressed differently than usual and I cut my hair and shaved my beard. My chin hasn't been this naked in years."

You smiled. "It's a very handsome chin. Logan."

"Why, thank you. And may I compliment you on your current fashion choice?" he said with a cheeky grin and a once over. "Very flattering."

You felt your cheeks heat when you realized that you had been standing around chit chatting while more or less naked. You slapped his arm playfully and said, "Jerk. I'm only half naked because I couldn't think of any other way to rescue you."

"Well, I appreciate the rescue and the view," he flirted.

You stepped over to your things and bent over to pick up your clothes, careful not to give Logan any more of a show than you already had.

Suddenly Logan tensed and leaned his ear to the door, gesturing to you for silence. His eyes widened and he started undressing quickly.

"Um," you began, but Logan was hopping across the room to the bed while pulling his boots off.

"Shhh! Get naked and get in the bed," he ordered.

"Excuse me?" you hissed, crossing your arms over your chest.

Logan hobbled over to you, shirtless and pants unzipped, one boot still partially on. He grabbed your arm to pull you with him and whispered, "They're going room to room looking for that bitch they're gonna ransom. Sound like anybody you know?"

"Shit," you said, untying your camisole and drawers and removing them. When you looked up, Logan was looking you over with such hunger that you felt your heart begin to race. Didn't hurt that he was naked and had a semi, either. 

You shook your head and yanked back the covers and dove in the bed, trying to mess it up as much as possible to make it look like the two of you had been rolling around in it. You felt the mattress dip and then warm skin touching yours.

"They're next door," he said, judging by the indignant shouts of a few voices that were apparently interrupted mid something or other.

When you heard the door slam and boots in the hallway leading to your room, Logan looked at you questioningly. 

You nodded yes and he slid over to lie on top of you, your hands and legs wrapping around him as he began to kiss you, hot and wet, teeth and tongue. If your heart had sped up at the sight of his body, it nearly stopped at the feel of his kiss combined with his body pressed against yours and hands moving over you. Your last coherent thought was how soft his hair was as you ran your fingers through it when he moved his mouth down to suck at a nipple, pulling an inarticulate yell from your lips just as the door burst open.

Logan flipped over into his back, reaching for his gun he'd had the wherewithal to put on the nightstand. "What the fuck?" he yelled angrily, cocking and pointing the gun at the intruders.

"Whoa there, fella!" Slim said, hands making a placating gesture. "Lookin' for a bounty hunter I brought here. You folks go back to what you were doin', sorry to bother you."

When he backed out and shut the door, you breathed a sigh of relief. You looked over at Logan and saw that his semi had grown into a whole -- a very long and delicious looking whole.

You unconsciously licked your lips as you looked up at him and saw him watching at you with a similar expression of avarice. 

"Thank you," you whispered.

"I owed you one," he whispered back, reaching over to gently caress your cheek, looking into your eyes. 

"I guess I should go try to get to the stables," you said quietly, reluctantly. Truth be told, you'd rather stay and finish what had begun, but you didn't know how to ask a complete stranger to continue, pretty please?

Logan finally tore his eyes away and said, "No, you should wait a couple hours til they pass out."

"Wait -- here?" you breathed.

Logan was just barely holding on to his control. He wanted you with an intensity he hadn't felt for anything but the hatred he felt for Billy since he'd been pulled half-dead from the desert. He swallowed hard and pulled away from you, turning to pull the blankets up and at least cover the temptation, even if it didn't precisely remove it.

"Yeah, we can talk," he said, as if it was a novel concept. It kind of was, really.

"OK," you drawled, turning onto your side to face him, noticing when his eyes were drawn to the exaggerated cleavage the new position created by pressing your breasts together. "Tell me all about Logan. Why were you sneaking around?"

He looked taken aback, like he hadn't expected to be the one answering questions. "Ah, you first."

You narrowed your eyes. "K. Well, I was trying to get Slim Miller's bounty. Holden and I went after him and he turned the tables, killed Holden and took me hostage. Said someone ought to want a 'purty thing' like me back, but he'd find a way to make a profit off me one way or another."

"Ouch."

"Yeah. I did not win the game," you said with a self-deprecating chuckle. 

Logan hesitated; he'd clearly been hoping there was more to your story. He took a deep breath and began, "The last time I was here, my now brother-in-law tied me naked to a horse and slapped its ass at the edge of the desert."

You gasped. "What the fuck? And your sibling still married the prick?"

"Thank you!" Logan said appreciatively, then laughed bitterly. "But yeah, nobody believed me. I've been a bit...wild. So my father and sister took his word over mine. He took my life: my family's trust, my company. This was mine. I crawled into a bottle and got high all the time for months, but then one day I got pissed instead of high, and here I am."

You wrinkled your brow. "What was yours?"

He averted his gaze for a moment, then said, "My last name is Delos."

"As in Delos BioEngineering, Delos Destinations? You own this place?" you asked incredulously.

"I did, yeah."

"So how does that explain why you're sneaking around here?"

"He's here. I wanted to catch him in the act." He flipped over into his back and slammed his fist on the mattress. "He went total batshit and they didn't believe me! Nobody would listen!"

"Hey," you said softly, giving him a hug that inadvertently pressed your breasts against his chest. "Um, well, awkward, but I'm sorry nobody would listen."

He smirked. "Thanks."

"So how are you going to catch him in the act?" you asked.

"Didn't think it through," he said in disgust. "No tech, no way to record."

You pulled away and hopped out of bed, grabbing your saddle bag and bringing it back to the bed. First you pulled a shirt over your head, no longer comfortable with your nudity.

"Aww," Logan complained.

"Hush," you said with a smile, then pulled a mobile phone out of your bag.

"How the fuck did you get that past security?" he asked in amazement.

"I have a medical condition I have to monitor."

"That's great!" he exclaimed. "I mean, not that you're sick…"

"I'm not sick, I have a medical condition. I'm perfectly healthy as long as I keep an eye on things. But yeah, recording device," you said, shaking it in front of Logan.

"You're -- you'll help me?" he whispered.

"Yeah," you said with a smile. "Dunno why but I believe you. Does that make me a fool?"

"No!" he said emphatically, taking your hand in his. "I am many things; a lot of them are bad. But I swear to you, I am not a liar."

You smiled. "Let's bring that bastard down."

Logan looked at you in disbelief for a moment, but then he saw something in your eyes that told him you meant it. He grinned and paraphrased the end of Casablanca, "I think this might be the beginning of a beautiful friendship."

@marauder--harder  / @giggleberts / @joelynnp / @astrangeevent2002 / @thesandbeneathmytoes / @squidscottjeans/ @delos-mio / @banditthewriter / @letsdanceinthedark  / @lilywoood / @ivegotillegalsinmybottom / @irinazatyk / @thinemineours / @ssserpensortiaaa / @starless-skyox / @lalafral / @hxbbit / @itsjustmylifeconfessions / @marauderskeeper/ @buddha-for-satan / @geeksareunique / @russosprettydiamondnow / @cutie-bug/ @deloslxgan  / @acciophoenx / @presstocontinue / @sassygirl25 / @iamnotbenbarneswifeyet / @the-temple-pythoness/ @youveseen–thebutcher / @random-quartz / @curlyhairedblueeyedangel / @myfriendmademedothisxd / @verniquelenoir / @aimingforthehiddenstars / @sssilverssserpent / @blogsulat  / @lostinthoughts23 / @sunaeroglu / @skwriddle / @lady1505 / @deviantly-gayy/ @whovianayesha / @delusionsofnostalgia / @songtoyou  / @funerals-with-cake / @abroadcastofthemind  / @i-padfootblack-things / @something-tofightfor/ @dylanobrusso / @suchatinyinfinity / @silverkitten547 / @propertyofpoeandbucky / @ponycake27 / @weallhaveadestiny /  @siriuslyimmoony / @breanime / @saltyshaggymeme / @bellamys  / @its-my-little-dumpster-fire / @luminex3 / @agent-scully-182 / @rockintensse / @ymariejp / @blah-blah-fuckit-shit / @grotesquely-creative/ @suna-the-lost-cause / @j-finco / @mathle0matle / @life-is-a-melody / @traeumerinwitzhelden

[steve0discusses]

Yugioh S2 Ep 43: Things Get a Lot Less Vague, But it’s Still Pretty Vague

I’m taking full advantage of the laziest time of the year and I’m watching even more Yugioh. I even gave myself a buffer. Sort of. I kinda lost a day playing Octopath Traveler and I don’t even remember that happening.

Now this episode doesn’t have anyone getting struck by lightning, but if that happened, it would have fit right in. A lot happened in this episode. So, to start off, Mai decided to play one of the three cards we were given explicit instructions to never ever play and it has immediately screwed her over via orb.

Everyone else watching the orb has become completely enamored by it. Especially Kaiba, who is pretty positive he can turn this sphere into a dragon. I don’t know why anyone would ever come to this conclusion, but welcome to Yugioh, it’s well into S2 and I’m just still jaw agape and saying “HOW?” at my screen.

Like y’all I don’t know how to play this game, which should be hella apparent from reading any of my posts, but like there is one thing that everyone knows--even I knew--about Yugioh the game. Let me just, once sec

Ah, there we go.

Like sometimes it shows that your game is originally in a language that doesn’t require spaces between words. And like this is coming from me. You know how verbose I am, I freakin love words. But maybe that’s too many words for a card.

(read more under the cut)

And while this is pretty much the worlds most BS card already, what’s even better is that none of this jargon appeared until after Mai played the card. Like basically the card pretends to be completely normal and then is like “Boom, gotcha. I’ll just be a cool Ikea orb lamp instead!”

At this point, while everyone is scrambling around trying to fathom what to do about this huge ass fake sun blinding everyone down in Domino, Marik decides to deposit some more bizarre lore.

I kind of assumed Yugi and Kaiba were born with the correct soul formula to become the reincarnation of these people from 3000 B.C.E. without any actual blood relations but apparently, somehow, you got people from Ancient Egypt migrating to Ancient Japan. Sure, I mean if you did enough trading routes it could happen. It just seems like it would be a difficult transition?

And we could get real head canon and talk about their parentage since there’s a lot we don’t know. Mokuba and Kaiba could have different fathers, since they are quite different looking, which may be how Mokuba is exempt from all this lore while it still applies to Seto (Cuz Mokuba has been staring at that card for like quite a while and he cannot read it). But like, I don’t know if the show will even bother to cover that.

I don’t know if we’ll find out when in their bloodlines Kaiba and Yugi’s Egyptian cursed lines arrived in Japan. Was this during like the Edo period? Was this to set up a really bizarre Shogun Yugioh spinoff?

Wait, is that a thing? I don’t actually know, Yugioh seems to have like 8 spinoffs that all look a lot of the same to me. It may just be 1 spinoff that Netflix keeps changing the preview image of to trick me into thinking there’s 8 of them.

Or, did Kaiba have a relative that showed up in the 80′s and had a crazy weekend and a one night stand? Would Kaiba even know who his real Dad is?

Whatever, I’m sure there’s plenty of fanfic made over the last 20 years to cover this so I don’t have to. Moving on.

And then this kid’s show decided to tie up Mai to a wall or something? Man, Marik and chaining people up, this is the fourth person he’s chained up today! At least this time she doesn’t have a box over her head.

Still pretty kinky though.

Yo did Mokuba just...casually walk out of Marik’s Shadow Realm just now?

Again, do they cancel the game at this point because the equipment is...clearly malfunctioning? Like, this is the part that Kaiba is supposed to have full control of because he made all the equipment they’re using and he’s just...glossing over this? Like, this is the one thing that Kaiba would be like “OK wait, wait, we can’t ship it like this, my company is actually ruined if the game can do this, one sec, cancel everything.”

Nah. They just kinda watch.

And now, Marik decides to say the bird chant so we can hear what was actually written on the card and it was...a...

...it was the definition of what a poem is all right...

This is the lyrics to the Ra poem, just so you can see how bad it is. My search engine history will never be the same, but I just want y’all to glory on how kid’s show this poem is, compared to everything else going on in this kid’s show at this moment.

"Great beast of the sky, please hear my cry./

Transform thyself from orb of light and bring me victory in this fight/

Envelop the desert with your glow and cast your rage upon my foe./

Unlock your powers deep within so that together we may win./

Appear in this Shadow Game as I call your name,/

Winged Dragon of Ra"

Bravo, writers. Bravo. This corny as hell poem with its very awkward meter was voiced over alllllll the other nuts stuff going on in this show and guys, it’s a juxtaposition.

Now at this point, Kaiba has his poem he needs to make the card works--so he no longer needs to translate it--so he can just cancel. He’s got everything he wants now. Time to just cancel. Throw the cursed boy in whatever prison you got on this ship. In fact, just toss him off the ship entirely. You no longer need him. He doesn’t even have the card anymore. Mai has it.

I honestly think Kaiba just spaced the hell out at this point.

Also then Marik follows it up by saying this:

Joey gets wind that this is pretty bad and we’re going to get a very dead Mai--I mean Joey was the one who just recently got struck by lightning so it’d make sense that he’d be the one to say "I know for a real true fact none of you are going to do a damn thing about this unless I do this myself.” So he runs directly over to Kaiba but then I think the show decided to edit out him talking to Kaiba because it just jump cuts to Joey talking to Roland instead.

Like it really felt like Joey went the long way around to get on this platform but I dunno, maybe he tried to punch Kaiba in the Japanese version and that’s why they edited it out? I dunno.

Also, how many times will Joey get DQ’d before he actually gets DQ’d? Will anyone ever in fact get DQ’d in this entire tourney?

As Ra starts warming up his engines to start spewing fire all over the field, Joey decides to take a moment to try and talk to Mai. To tell her that yes, he did have a dream about her, but didn’t want to tell her earlier, because no teenage boy in their right mind would tell an adult woman that they had a dream about them during a near-death experience.

Which honestly most of it was lost on the fact that Mai can only hear him as a sort of ghostly spooky echo.

So then, through the power of...the show only calls if friendship, but it’s very vague, y’all...they break the curse that Marik put on Mai, and she remembers Joey. Also because Joey is touching her face. Like literally touching her. This would have been way spookier if she could not see him at this point.

So Ra is getting ready to fry these two up and I thought “wow, we’re gonna get two bodies at the end of this episode. What a treat!” but there’s a twist.

What? Lol what?

Within like 3 milliseconds, Yugi goes “dammit what are these assholes doing?” and leaps up to the platform and then takes yet another direct fireball hit in order to save Joey Wheeler. No one even asked Yugi to do this--he’s not even competing in this game, but he certainly got up there and took it.

This episode must have been a right up shipping frenzy when y’all were 12.

Marik is so pleased that he got to eff up Yugi more in this duel than the one that he actually tried to kill Yugi Muto in. If I remember correctly he did mention that this all was very convenient--I mean he got 3 in one go and he wasn’t even trying. So, Because Yugi is passed out and because Kaiba will never actually step in and stop anyone in this show unless Mokuba orders him to, Marik walks straight up to Joey and Mai and makes some more nonsense right in front of everyone on this show.

This is right in front of most of the entire cast.

Maybe it’s the color scheme but I got strong Stinky Cheese Man vibes from this magic effect.

I thought of pulling more caps from this point but there was waaaay too much shirtless Yugi in it. In my mind, all cartoon characters, when they take their shirt off, have another shirt on underneath. And if they take off that shirt, it’s yet another shirt. It’s shirts and boots leggings on all the way down to infinity like a russian nesting doll, and the image of shirtless Yugi really puts a kibosh to my world view and I didn’t like it.

No kinkshame, of course, if that’s your thing, well, you got a 18x18 pixel shirtless Yugi right there for you to enjoy. Enjoy.

Now that Mai has been trapped here in this hourglass resort, she will lose her memories of her friends for the rest of time, obsessively watching everyone else's vacations that are full of friends having way more fun than she is having.

This is just Instagram basically. Y’all, this is just Instagram.

And some of y’alls Instagram has shirtless Yugis in it, I just know it.

And not to get too real but like, last episode we went through how Marik basically gave Mai depression--and it says a lot that his way of doing this was illustrated in a show written like 20 years ago in a lot of the same way social media works today. Just throwing that out there. 

Overall, I feel like the theme of the Mai ark is “Marik just sped up what they were already doing and it was super effective.” Mai trapped herself in her own false and negative insecurities. Kaiba failed to moderate anything. Joey waited way too late to say the right thing. Yugi sacrificed himself again to such a degree that he couldn’t save Mai later when Marik was just strutting around cursing people willy nilly.

And I’m not going to lie, Marik’s cargo pants/cape strut was hilarious.

It was probably supposed to be menacing, but this long cut of this ridiculous cast just watching this weird boy go was great.

Up until now Seto has been a very patient impatient person, but now it’s finally his duel, and he’s so excited to duel Ishizu--but y’all it’s just Seto up against a phsycic again. I imagine it’s gonna go real great.

Other than that one guy in town, will this boy ever duel a normal person?

Also...been debating on whether Mai is dead or alive, and her soul still seems attached to her body--like she’s still salvageable? So I’ll say alive for now. Seems more like a dream than like she literally got transported elsewhere.

Dude. It is S2 and I just realized that Mai Valentine is a pun.

Damn.

If you just got here, this is the end of S2 and things are rapidly losing their mind. Click here if you want to read from ep 1

[unofficialrhettandlink]

The office is dull, hazy in a way that makes it seem unfamiliar. They’ve set a personal record by staying at the office this late (the last few employees would’ve locked up and left the building about five hours ago), and it’s definitely doing a number on the boys. The bright, artificial lighting in the office tells Link that it’s time to work, while today’s fourth mug of coffee tells him he should fall into bed and never get up until next year. All for a dumb costume.

Okay, so maybe a lot of time and effort went into making this costume that really isn’t dumb at all. Maybe it looks fantastic, and maybe it’s just what they need to make this new sketch epic. At least Rhett can stay the long hours with him, just so there’s another tired pair of eyes to look things over and determine what changes are needed, if any. And tired Rhett is.

“Whaddya think a fondue-only restaurant would be called?” Rhett babbles from behind his phone. Link looks up from his outfit to Rhett’s reflection in their dressing room mirror. They’re both so used to changing in front of each other that Rhett has opted to sit in the chaise lounge chair against the wall, and Link has allowed him to stay.

“I dunno, man. Fon… Fon-Do You Want a Stick?”

Incredulous, Rhett screws up his face at the mirror. “Fon-Do You Want a Stick?” he repeats, horrified. “What stick are you offering them?”

Link giggles, rubbing his neck in embarrassment. “You know, the stick. To…” He bunches up his hand, as if brandishing a rapier, and then jabs the air with his imaginary weapon.

Rhett raises his eyebrows. “To handle the food, you mean? They’re called forks, Link. They’re just prongs attached to really long handles.” Shaking his head, he returns his attention back to his phone. “Stick.”

“Hey, whatever! Fork you, man, you know my brain isn’t functioning correctly right now!”

“Is it ever?”

Rhett laughs at Link’s grin, playful and unconcealed. “Shut up and look at your phone,” Link spits as he holds his costume up to his body.

He’ll be playing Charles, one of the many futuristic guards at The Institution of Covert Experimentation, or as regarded by government officials and pizza delivery guys alike, I.C.E. The “covert experimentation” happens to be cloning, a direct continuation of the BFFs storyline. The boys have an idea of the challenges ahead of them, but if the quality of this costume is any indication, this video will be one of their most ambitious yet.

For three minutes, Link toys with the asymmetrical ensemble and its various ornaments. He can’t tell which parts detach or not, but he’s not about to try and find out. He shimmies out of his cotton joggers with a grunt, then pulls the one-piece outfit onto his legs. Still shirtless, he looks at himself in the mirror. The pants squeeze his thighs a bit too tightly, while the hems fall a few inches up his calves. Nothing a pair of rubber boots can’t fix.

Link has to duck down to reach the armholes of the getup, but the fabric near his hips is so tight that he worries standing up straight will rip out some stitches. Instead, he keeps his shoulders low and fiddles with the costume’s zipper. It’s an interesting zipper, one that starts at his collar and trails down to his behind. Link thought zipping it all the way down would create the greatest obstacle for him, but even more difficult is finding how it zips at all.

The pull tab sits on his neck, right under his goozle. For it to reach his butt at all, he would have to decapitate himself. Something is definitely wrong.

“Hey, Rhett,” he calls. “How am I s’posed to zipper this thing?”

Rhett looks up, making a face at Link’s appearance. He studies Link for a second before guffawing loudly and bending over into his lap. “How did you...?”

“How did I do what?” Link glances at the mirror again. He joins Rhett’s laughter, but he doesn’t know why.

Rhett unfurls his spine and looks up, red-faced and trembling with hysteria. “Okay, I have no idea how you did this,” he snickers, “but you somehow managed to put on that outfit backwards and upside-down.”

He chortles again, leaving Link with another confused look at the mirror. His mistakes reveal themselves much more clearly now, with his body hunched over and showcasing the entire curvature of his backside. Like a humpback whale, he faintly recalls.

“Aw, man, I…”

“Just how tired are you right now?”

“I told you my brain ain’t functioning right now! Dangit! I was like, ‘How do I zipper this?’ I’m such an idiot.” With Rhett chuckling in the background, Link shakes his arms out the (pants) sleeves and leaves the fabric hanging over his crotch. He goes to tug the cloth on his legs when his complete field of vision turns inky black. Even more unsettling is the sudden absence of sound throughout the entire office.

Link turns to the mirror and spots Rhett’s face, illuminated by his phone screen. They share a look, then Rhett asks, “Did the power just go out?”

Link snorts. “I would assume so.”

Using his phone as a flashlight, Rhett stands up and peeks out the dressing room door. The same darkness shrouds the main space of the office and leaves it eerily quiet. “Hello?” Rhett calls, earning a smack on the arm from his friend.

“Hey, you’ve watched the horror movies,” Link hisses. “You don’t just call out into a dark house at night. That’s how you get killed. Murderers always roam in the dark.”

He senses the roll of Rhett’s eyes. “I was just making sure none of the crew members were still out there,” Rhett reasons. He steps into the hallway for a second, then turns back to Link. “You think I should check the power box outside?”

Link lays a hand on Rhett’s arm, keeping him back. “What? No. Then you’ll actually get killed.” Rhett doesn’t need to see Link in order to know he’s not joking; he can hear the tremor in his words. He steps back inside the room, but Link still persists. “Anyway, I need you to help me take this thing off. It’s real stuck on there and I don’t wanna rip it. Plus it’d be a real shame if the police had to find me in a puddle of my own blood with these things stuck on my legs.”

“Yeah, the pants are what’s tragic,” Rhett murmurs, shuffling past his friend. Link follows Rhett into the center of the room, where he can stretch atop the large ottoman. Rhett positions himself in front of Link, and only now does he realize how odd it is for them to be working so quietly. It’s as if they’ve done this before. As if Rhett has tons of experience taking Link’s clothes off in the dark. A more rested mind would’ve dismissed the thought hastily, but the nineteen sleepless hours of the day find this a great episode idea. Rhett will have to pitch the idea to Link later.

With his phone flashlight as their single source of light, Rhett only has one free hand to grapple onto Link’s pants. He suspects that it won’t be as difficult as Link suggests, that he’s exaggerating in his Link way. But then he tugs on the edge of the fabric for the first time and elicits an unabashed yelp from the man before him. “You alright?” Rhett asks.

“This thing is squeezing my… everything,” Link says, out of breath and laughing a bit. “Do it again, harder this time.”

Rhett eyes him for a second—word choice, Link—before slipping his phone into his back pocket. He has an inkling this task requires two hands. He grips both hems and yanks, dragging Link and the ottoman an inch across the floor. It fills the room with a hellish grating sound, but Link doesn’t seem to mind.

“Harder, man! Put some oomph in it!” he yells, waving his arms with a somewhat aggressive vigor.

Rhett tugs again, this time pulling Link straight off the ottoman. He lands on the floor with a hefty thud. Link’s groan turns into giggles as he rubs his backside. Neither of them can see each other, but Rhett laughs with him once he hears no one is seriously hurt.

“Okay, okay,” Link titters, “they’re almost off, but I think they need one more good yank. They’re, like, actually uncomfortable, man.”

“I know they are. It’s not like I don’t believe you,” Rhett snickers, crouching in front of Link’s outstretched legs.

If there were any murderers outside the room before, all of them would’ve been scared off by now. The various grunts and heavy breathing imply a scenario far different than the one they’re actually in, and they sure don’t look any better. Even from a modest viewpoint, they’re two guys doing nighttime yoga in a darkened room. Another good video idea, maybe, but for now they’re glad there aren’t any cameras around.

“You ready?” Rhett asks, waggling his fingers in the air.

He hears Link slap his arms onto the floor. Added traction, smart. “Yeah. Have at it, brother.”

A certain thrill bubbles in Rhett’s chest as he latches onto Link’s costume. Link is panting hard, then screeching as Rhett pulls back with nearly all his weight. They struggle, with Rhett joining Link’s shrieks, then the pants finally slide off like peels on overripe bananas. Rhett cheers triumphantly, throwing his arms into the air, but Link stammers over him with a panic to his voice.

“Dude! You—d-don’t look!”

“What? I just got ‘em off!”

“Don’t look!”

“I won’t, I can’t even see!”

Rhett hears the rustle of fabric along with Link’s heavy breathing, but further into the distance he hears the whir of electronic devices, charging and powering up. He knows what’s happening, intuits the lights will flicker on any moment now, and despite this he trains his eyes on the shadows in front of him, curious of the motion.

Rhett is unusually ready—eager, even—as the lights finally switch on. Lying on the ground before him is Link, blushing and sweaty. Rhett notices his hands are frozen on the waistband of his flamingo boxers. The garment sits loosely on Link’s pelvis, where small tufts of dark hair peek out from underneath. “You pulled ‘em right off me,” Link heaves, finally resting his hands at his sides. It takes a moment for Rhett to recognize what he’s referring to (his eyes must’ve given it away), and it takes even longer for him to comprehend his role in the entire situation.

Rhett leans back on the balls of his feet. “I pulled your underwear off?” he sputters.

“Well, you pulled off the pants which pulled off my underwear,” Link replies, propping himself up on his elbows. “Good thing the power was out, huh?”

“Very good thing,” Rhett says, though not without a lick of his lips. “Sorry about that.”

Link sits up and clears his throat. “It’s alright. It was sort of freeing, y’know. Being naked in the dark.”

“You would like nighttime skinny dipping, then,” Rhett says, getting to his feet and pulling Link up with him. It’s a naturally flirty suggestion, one that takes Link a second to register before turning to Rhett and laughing. Rhett chuckles back in response.

Eventually, they return to their respective spots on the couch and in front of the mirror. Link holds up the costume again, still damp from their earlier feat, and sighs. “Here’s hoping Take Two turns out any better, huh?”

He steps into the costume, now forwards and right-side up, while Rhett looks up at him and smiles. His eyes linger for longer than usual. “Yeah,” he says, “let’s hope.”

A/N: So there was my long-ass fic that wasn’t supposed to be a long-ass fic but turned into one anyway! Hope you like it @kpuff23, I sure had a fun time writing it <33 This fic is also on Ao3, so please give it a kudos and leave a comment if you feel so inclined. Thanks for reading~