#ugh. anyway glad the truth is out

[kasandor]

genevieve o’reilly outstanding lead actress in a drama series. to me.

[cordeliawhohung]

Hiii! I've just binged mafia Price again, as one would, and now I desperately wanna know their first time together 😍 Was it after dating some time, ot much longer or maybe right away? How did they felt? Nervous I bet, but what was anticipation like? Did he make it a planned occasion, or was it casual? Was it quick rough, or slow and sensual, or something else? Like 🤯🤯🤯 My mind's gonna blow thinking about all these. Give this girl some insight, pretty please 👉🏻👈🏻

ugh i answered an ask a few weeks ago that was sort of similar to this but about them dating and i was trying to find it to link with this post but alas, tumblr search is dog water lmfao. anyway it's been a bit since i've written something proper for him so enjoy a drabble to answer your question (:

mafia!141 masterlist

cw: alcohol, smut, mutually possessive sex, (maybe slight technical dub-con due to the alcohol but both parties are awake and aware i'm just putting this here just in case)

When John got home, he found you in the kitchen.

Quiet music hummed through the speaker on your phone as you worked on serving two big plates of food like you had predicted his arrival. You greeted him with a grin as you gestured to the food in front of you on the island, proud of your work. Its fragrant aroma was mouth watering, almost to the point he found it difficult to think about anything other than eating. Your smile was contagious and John found himself chuckling as he approached the other side of the island.

"What's all this?" he asked.

"Dinner, of course," you replied.

John scoffed slightly at his rather poorly worded question and your cheeky response. "Alright, well what's the occasion?"

"No occasion," you said. "You've been at work all day, and I felt like cooking, so..." You paused to pick up one of the plates and held it out for him to take. "Dinner!"

In the last few months that you had been staying with him, you had cooked plenty of times, but never anything quite like that. A part of you felt a little guilty for not being able to show your appreciation as much as you wanted to, for taking you in and keeping a roof over your head, but more often than not he wouldn't allow it. There were few chores he would allow you to do as a guest in his home, and if you wanted to cook or clean for him, you often had to do it under his nose when he wasn't home.

And still, instead of telling you how you didn't have to do all that, how you didn't have to waste your evening cooking a lavish meal, he took it without complaint and allowed you to lead him into the living room. That evening was full of good food, a very expensive wine that you attempted to convince John not to open but he did anyway, and an old slasher film that was more humorous than it was unsettling.

Something was different about that night. Maybe it was the wine, or maybe it was something else, but you seemed to smile and laugh more than you had for the last few weeks. And you were beautiful. The way the dim glow of the TV illuminated your face as you took a sip of wine, the way you laughed and pointed at the screen when one of the characters died; you were perfect.

"Thank you. For taking care of me," you suddenly spoke up.

John had stared at you for so long he didn't even realize that the movie was over, but you didn't seem to mind his unwavering gaze. Yet he was a bit confused by your sudden comment. Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe it was the truth, but he felt like he didn't deserve it.

"Your gratitude is wasted on someone like me," he muttered, eyes refusing to leave your face.

"What makes you say that?" you asked.

"I'm not a good man."

"I know."

While it wasn't the answer he expected, John was glad you knew that much about him at least. He gave you a breathy laugh as he looked down at the remaining wine left in his glass. The dark red liquid swirled around as he leaned forward to place it on the coffee table.

"How do you know?" he questioned, hoping you would indulge him.

"I've always known," you said as if it was obvious. "If you were a good man, you'd be dead by now. Good men don't live long in your line of work."

"So you've known I'm a bad man this whole time?"

The expression on your face contorted and it wasn't long before your hand rested on his arm. He didn't dare look down to where your fingers brushed against his skin because he feared you would retract if he did, like someone who didn't want to get bitten by a dog.

"You're not a bad man," you retorted as if the very thought had offended you.

"How do you know?" John challenged.

"Because you are kind."

In that moment, John swore he had always known you, and maybe he did. He had known you as the chief's daughter when he was a child. He had known you and your laughter as you sat next to him in maths as a teen. You had always been there, lingering in the back of his mind, finding him when he least expected it.

So when you leaned into him, he didn't stop you. And he didn't stop you when your hands rested on his chest, or when your lips pressed against his. In fact, he savored every moment of it. Your skin on his, your teeth sinking into his flesh; it all felt so familiar like your body was the only one he had ever held that way.

It all happened so fast he felt dizzy, but all John knew was that when he saw you laid out naked on his bed there was nothing in the world that would ever take you from him. He couldn't stop the way his lips were drawn to your chest where he kissed a gentle trail between your breasts and down to your navel. He couldn't stop the way his mouth latched onto your cunt like it was the only sustenance he would need for the rest of his life.

And it was the most love you had felt in your entire life. The way he gently pawed at your body not in greed, but because he needed you to be closer, to feel every inch of you. Every moan that left your lips was carefully fished for, and if one thing didn't work he would try another. The way he crooked his fingers inside of you and swiped his tongue over your clit was all done so carefully, only aiming to please you.

When he eventually pulled away from you, got you so worked up that your legs quaked, you wanted to return the favor. Wanted to thank him for taking you in, for treating you as well as he had, but when you tried to sit up his hand firmly kept you pinned against the mattress. He reminded you that you were under his roof. You were his to take care of.

He continued to remind you of that fact with every pump of his cock inside of you. Each thrust had you repeating his words back to him with pitched moans, how he would take care of you, how good he was to you, how you were his to take care of, you were his, you were his. By the time he emptied himself into you with a heavy grunt and a needy kiss, you knew there was nowhere else you'd rather be.

After that night, you only slept in his bed, and eventually it wasn't just his bed, but yours too. It happened slowly, and all at once, that he had become yours and you had become his, and yet at the same time, it was like it was never any other way to begin with.

[magicalbats]

Tell Me You're Mine (Scar x Reader)

Rating: R-18+

Word Count: 18,321

Warnings: afab!reader, rimming (female receiving), cunnilingus, facesitting, simulated sex through clothes, cum in pants (male), spit, implied/innate femdom, pathetic sub boy behavior, stalking

A/N: Literally was not going to be able to move on until I got this out of my system lol I promise no one fully understands just how crazy he's made me!! I see the way he looks at us and I just!! Ugh!!

⭐

Your terminal beeps, signaling an incoming call. 

Thankfully it doesn't cause you to startle the same way it had the first few dozen times it started making noises at you and you reach back to press the button on the side with a newly practiced, casual motion. It might have surprised you, how little thought you actually give the strange device and its near constant presence at your back now that you’ve grown accustomed to it but, well. Your contacts list was awfully short, wasn’t it? 

The projection of Chixsia’s photo ID blinks into existence before your face like a real life magician's trick, the hologram faint and irresolute against the harsh backdrop of craggy mountains and lifeless dead trees. In truth you don’t understand this technology much more than you understand anything else about this world. But just as with every other unfamiliar thing here you’ve taken it in stride and adapted to it. At the very least, you were just glad you no longer had to wrestle with the instinctive reflex to reach up and try to swat the holo icon away like it was nothing more than an incessant gnat. That had quickly proven a rather embarrassing reaction on your part. 

“Rover!” 

“Hey, Chixsia. Did you need something?” 

“No, nothing in particular. I just wanted to check in with you and see how things were going!” 

You’re not so sure you believe that and at your doubtful hum she breaks embarrassingly fast. 

“Okay, okay. It’s just that we haven’t seen you since yesterday afternoon when we were trying to figure out that puzzle box the magistrate left for you. I figured it wouldn’t hurt to make sure everything was alright, that’s all.”

Warmed by her sincere concern, you feel your mouth start to tug into a slow smile. “I’m fine, but thank you for thinking of me. You and Yangyang have certainly made me feel welcomed.” 

“Well, of course. That’s kind of our job, isn’t it?” She lets out a bright, tittering laugh on the other side of the line, and you lift your brow in question. 

“Is it really?” 

Whatever she says next is lost under the creeping howl of wind that rushes through the ravine you’re standing in. The uneven cut of rocks and boulders long gouged by the elements in such an inhospitable environment amplifies the acoustic reverberation and almost seems to make it echo in the space between your ears. Wincing, you drop to a defensive crouch on the ground and peer around you in search of any Tacet Discords that may have taken notice of your position. Much to your relief though, the coast still looked to be clear. 

You, paranoid? Maybe so, but it was in part what had kept you alive this long. If you were a little on edge it was for a good reason. Huanglong had certainly given you more than enough incentive to stay on your guard in just the short amount of time since you’d woken up here and you weren’t inclined to start throwing caution to the wayside just yet. 

“Woah, what is that?” Chixsia’s voice rings out over the connection, the hologram weakly flashing when the signal falters. “Did I catch you at a bad time?” 

“No.” Yes, she had, but you weren’t about to tell her that. “It was just the wind. Nothing to be concerned about, promise.” 

A single beat of surprised silence passes over the connection. “Where are you that has wind like that?” 

“I’m up in the mountains. I decided to take on a commission since I had the free time anyway, and the money was good.” 

The little white lie comes out smooth and natural, thanks in no small part to all the rehearsing you’d done on the way up here. You still feel a distant pang of guilt at having to deceive Chixsia of all people but it couldn’t be helped. If she knew the truth behind your solo trek out into the wilderness there was a very real possibility she might take that as her cue to rally the troops for a search and rescue party, and you couldn’t have that. Not yet. 

“Huh? But why would you do that? If you’d needed money you should have just said something! I’m sure the magistrates office would have been happy to provide for your living expenses while you’re here.” 

You shake your head, momentarily forgetting that she couldn’t see it through the audio-only call. “I don’t want to burden anyone more than necessary or freeload, and Jinzhou has already done so much for me. Besides … isn’t there a saying about how idle hands make for troubled minds, or something like that?” 

She offers a brief sound of consideration in response, mulling that over. “I’m not sure if that’s exactly how it goes but I get what you mean. Still, are you sure everything’s alright? You seemed a bit distracted when we went our separate ways yesterday. You’d tell us if you needed help, wouldn’t you?” 

“Of course I would.” This white lie isn’t so small and it comes out with more difficulty as a result. But you’re quick to mask it under the guise of being predisposed, and you’re not quiet about it as you climb to your feet before spinning around in a slow circle to survey your surroundings. You make sure to tread carelessly while you do it so that the sound of your footsteps might reach her all the way back in the city. “Not to rush you, Chixsia, but did you need anything else? I have to go.” 

“No, no. That was all. If you’re sure everything’s okay then … I guess I’ll let you get back to it.” 

The note of disappointment in her voice is unmistakable, and it makes you smile again even when you try very hard not to. “Relax. You have my word that there’s nothing to worry about. I’ve got everything under control over here. And hey, the next time we go out for lunch it’ll be my treat. How’s that sound?” 

To your relief, she perks up immediately. “It sounds like a deal! You’d better not forget you said that, Rover! I’ll hold you to it!” 

“I will, I will. Bye for now, Chixsia.” 

The line drops mere seconds after her enthusiastic parting and you let your shoulders slump once the holo ID blinks out. That should at least take care of your alibi, so there was that. You can’t help but wish it had been just about anyone other than the guileless junior officer though, because she seemed much too naive and trusting to pull one over on in good conscience. Oh well. Necessary evils and all that. 

Breathing out a terse huff through your nose, you crane your head back to look up at the craggy side of the ridge and squint against the low setting sun. Still no signs of, well. Anything at all. Even the last Tacet Discord you’d run into had been miles back and was now long forgotten. But that’s not what you were out here for. If Chixsia or anyone else had pressed the matter you would have readily used the excuse that it was just part of the job you’d taken on and you were hunting down some monster or another. You were relatively certain that they would have believed that story without much fuss, especially when this world seemed to have more than its fair share of them. It was at least commonplace enough not to draw suspicion.

But you were hoping to lure out a demon of a completely different breed, and you were certain no one would believe you were serious about it even if you did tell them. They’d think you’d gone crazy, hit your head somewhere along the way and were now suffering the debilitating consequences. For all the sense this foolhardy plan of yours made, hell, maybe you did take a too hard hit to the noggin at some point. That seemed about as likely as anything else. 

You knew you weren’t imagining the feeling of being watched though. That unmistakable sensation of eyes on you, tracking your every move, has followed you everywhere you go in Jinzhou since the first moment you came to. Strolling along the busy streets or wandering into the quieter residential neighborhoods, passing through one of the bustling markets or making your way out to the militant outpost at the edge of the city. It doesn’t matter where you go, that feeling always remains. 

The one and only place it seemed to fade to a distant afterthought, you’ve noticed, was inside the City Hall building, but you couldn’t exactly hole yourself up there for the rest of your life. It just wasn’t feasible, for starters, and you weren’t entirely sure yet if you could place all of your trust in them anyway. It’s hardly any wonder then that with no other choice and the time to spare while you awaited the magistrates return, you’d finally decided to take matters into your own hands. 

“Let’s see now. If I were a shameless stalker, I wonder where I'd hide.” You murmur under your breath as you turn, examining the way you’d come for any hint of another person trailing you from behind. In all honesty you already knew the identity of at least one of the culprits but you didn’t want to jump to pointing the finger at him without sufficient evidence first. He probably didn’t deserve that leeway but you were still willing to give him the benefit of the doubt in this. 

Not because he’d given you any reason to believe he wasn’t that kind of person, but because you’d long had the sense that there were at least two separate individuals keeping tabs on you, if not more. One was almost imperceptible and easily ignored save the periodic chill in the air that seemed to suggest their interest in you was less than innocent or friendly. 

The other was Scar. 

All red hot and static charged, his laser focused attention was hard to miss even when he was doing the utmost to conceal himself and his heated stare. But once he’d revealed himself to you out in that desolate, abandoned village you’d been able to easily discern him from the other on multiple occasions now. He was still following you, yes, but so was that icier, less obvious presence. Hiking out into the unwelcoming mountain range hadn’t dissuaded either of them but neither had they made their move yet. Curious. Were the two conflicting forces perhaps acting to repel one another and keeping them both mutually at bay? 

Turning that over in your head, you complete one last full circuit survey of the surroundings in hopes of spotting at least some hint of another presence in the ravine with you. An out of place shadow on the ground, a clatter of misplaced rocks or perhaps even a tuft of haphazard hair its owner doesn’t conceal himself fast enough to hide. At this point you would have been happy with anything at all if it just reassured you that you weren’t going crazy. 

“Come out, come out, wherever you are.” 

Nothing. There wasn’t a damn thing that looked like it didn’t belong or warranted any amount of doubt. In truth the area almost seemed completely void of life save your own and the occasional bird you could make out far in the distance when they flew by overhead. 

So not even that troublesome man wanted to show himself, huh? What a predicament this was turning into. You’d thought for sure he at least would have jumped at the chance as soon as you were alone and hopefully draw the other out of hiding in the process. 

Oh well. You still had plan B to fall back on. 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The sun is dipping low on the horizon and casting everything in a bright ultraviolet glare by the time you reach the river at the far end of the ravine. It’s situated in a natural alcove cut out of the rock face by the constant buffeting of elements; wind and rain, and the freezing snow of winter which had left myriad cracks and uneven dips littered across the ground. The rising jut of the ridgeline made for a relatively fortified spot to set up camp for the night where it would be difficult for anyone or anything to sneak up on you and catch you unawares. After doing a preliminary inspection to ensure there weren’t any wolf or bear dens you’d be encroaching on, you deem it to be as safe as it was likely going to get. 

While you work to get settled in, unburdening yourself of your supplies pack and erecting a small campfire to hopefully cook a fresh fish or two on later, you remain keenly aware of the eyes that still linger on you. Even all the way out here you couldn’t escape them and for the moment at least you weren’t quite sure which party they belonged to. Was it only Scar who had followed you all this way or had both of them taken the bait? 

Hopefully you would find out soon enough. 

The minutes crawl by, quiet and uneventful, save the hopeful crackle of the kindling catching on dry wood. 

Finally deciding that you were satisfied with the modest flame you’ve managed to build up, you make a casual show of finding your feet and stretching your arms high over your head. You weren’t overly confident in your own acting abilities but if Scar really was somewhere out there watching you from a distance then believability probably didn’t matter much. Frankly you were just surprised he’d shown even this much self restraint. 

Turning away from the makeshift camp with a small rag in hand, you shuffle over to the edge of the riverbank where you relieve yourself of your sword and then your terminal. Your shoes and utility straps quickly follow, then your tunic dress. The last thing to go are your bottoms, leaving you standing there completely nude. Your nipples stand up in stiff, achingly hard points against the cool mountain air as you take a first tentative step into the water. It’s cold but not freezing, and you merely let out a soft hiss when you force yourself to wade further out into the slow moving stream despite its unwelcoming chill. 

Was this a stupid, reckless and irresponsible plan? Undoubtedly. There was no telling what dangers you were inviting by doing this but it was the only option you could think of that might be too tempting for your voyeurs to resist. If they wouldn’t come out of hiding when you were armed and ready for them, then perhaps the vulnerability of your nakedness would do the trick. 

Fighting back the clatter of your teeth, you slowly sink down to submerge yourself up to your waist. A bit of awkward shifting soon locates a relatively smooth rock for you to perch on, and you try to relax into the crisp water as you set in to wash your body clean. This at least isn’t wholly feigned. Your skin was sticky with clammy sweat after the long trek so you were glad for a bath even if nothing more productive than that came of it. 

The following stretch of moments is still and serenely picturesque, save the distant cries of a lone raven and the periodic sound of splashing while you wash. It would have been rather nice if only it was just a little bit warmer. You wanted nothing more than to rush through it and hurry back to the fire as quickly as possible, but you force your hands to work at a deliberately sedate pace so that you might give whoever was watching you plenty of time to work up the courage to act. Honestly you hadn’t thought Scar of all people would need that kind of consideration but … 

At last, a soft yet sudden clatter of displaced rocks sounds from somewhere just behind you and jars you from your thoughts. It takes a great deal of effort to stamp down the urge to turn and look, but you do your best to pretend as if you hadn’t noticed it while you scrub the rag down the length of your thigh. This was a delicate situation. If you reacted too soon you ran the risk of spooking them and scaring them away. But if you reacted too late after they were already right on top of you then there was a very real chance they might succeed in overpowering you. Clearly you’d just need to trust that your instincts would see you through this and hope for the best. 

So you wait, counting off each individual second in your head until the next sound reaches your ears, a little closer this time. Pebbles disturbed on the ground, you think, and nothing more to indicate what it might be. The thought that it could be a Tacet Discord crosses your mind and almost makes you spin around to check but you refrain, too determined to get to the bottom of this stalking situation to give in. You just sorely hoped this foolish gamble of yours paid off. 

But the longer it goes on the less likely it seems that it might be Scar watching on from the shadows. He hadn’t seemed the cautious type anyway, but he certainly wouldn’t have had any reason for such reticence after already showing himself to you as boldly as he had once before. 

It must have been the other one then, you decide. But why were they still lingering back there instead of taking advantage of the ample opportunity you’d practically handed them? You couldn’t make sense of it. 

Then you finally hear it. The unmistakable thump of footsteps. Heavy boots that tread the ground on long, confident strides and steadily approach the riverbank at an unhurried, almost casual pace. That realization makes your instincts go absolutely haywire as anticipatory jitters settle low in your gut and set you to vibrate. Somehow there was a certain familiarity in that canter, defying all logic and reason, but you’d thought — 

“Oh, Rover ~” 

Every single hair on your body immediately stands on end to accompany the chill that races down your spine. Heart rate quickening, you carefully twist around to look behind you as calmly as you can manage it. Instinctively you wanted to lunge for your sword where it was resting only a few feet away and take comfort in its grounding weight in your hands. Logically, however, you knew that any sudden movements had the potential to escalate the situation far beyond your control so you try your best to stay level headed. 

And sure enough, it is indeed Scar making his way across the barren ground towards you. In the flesh and just as arrogant as he’d been back in that ramshackle village, you’re more than just a bit chagrined to find. Except he’s not alone. And it’s not the mysterious woman who’d shown up to retrieve him after his Elysium broke. 

Breath catching in your chest, you stare wide eyed at the person hanging motionless from where Scar’s holding onto the back of their jacket. Based on the build you think it’s a man and the toes of his shoes drag bonelessly against the ground behind him, arms hanging just as limp in the front. Either dead or knocked out cold. For his sake, you sorely hoped Scar had shown him some amount of mercy and it wasn’t the former. 

Your body is so tense, the muscles locked up in preparation for a fight, that it almost hurts as you shift further around to face him and his onward approach head on. It doesn’t seem to bother Scar one little bit though, his lack of concern obvious when he merely grins down at you in response. Undeterred and utterly shameless. 

Stepping right up to the edge of the bank, he finally saunters to a stop and carelessly tosses his burden down at his feet. You track the unknown man with your eyes, but he doesn’t stir even when one of his arms flops out to land half in the chilly water. Like a puppet that’s had its strings cut. 

You quickly snap your attention back up at the Overseer, fearlessly looking into that leering face of his. “Who is that? And what did you do to him?” 

“What, not even a friendly hello first? How very cruel you are, Rover, but that’s alright. We have plenty of time to properly greet one another in due time. And as for your question … if you’ll recall our last conversation he’s exactly what I warned you about when we first met. I told you there were multiple factions fighting over you and vying for your attention didn’t I, my dear?” Tipping his head to one side, Scar peers down at you consideringly. He may have been smiling but the glint in his mismatched eyes seemed to suggest that he wasn’t particularly amused right now. How curious. 

“You should listen to me next time.” He goes on.  “I’m not in the habit of speaking so idly that my warnings can go unheeded. I only speak the truth. At least when it comes to you, anyway. I meant everything I said before.” 

“That doesn’t tell me anything, Scar. Who is this person?” 

He gives his head a slow shake, laughing low under his breath. “Yet another inconsequential insect, that’s all. Nothing to worry your pretty little head about. They’re always buzzing around you like flies, aren’t they? Well, you won’t have to concern yourself with this one again. I already took care of him for you.” 

Realizing that this wasn’t getting you anywhere, you take a deep, calming breath in through your nose and let it out from your mouth. You’d just have to attack this from a different angle. “Is he dead? Can you at least answer that?” 

“Not yet he isn’t ~” 

Alright, well. You didn’t very much like that sing-song tone coming from him. “That’s good to hear, but why did you attack him?” 

Cooing softly, mockingly, Scar draws his brows up in an affected, put upon look of feigned pity. “Isn’t it obvious? I was willing to play nice up until this one here decided to enjoy the little show you were putting on a bit too much, that’s all. Oh, but don’t fret over the likes of him. You needn’t concern yourself with such trivialities. He’s just a peeping Tom. A pervert. He only got what he deserved.” 

You pin him with a doubtful look at that, frowning. “What does that make you then? Something tells me you didn’t mind the show much either.” 

“Me?” A surprised guffaw bursts out of him, his body language abruptly shifting towards restlessness as he brings a hand up and places it emphatically over his heart. “You wound me, Rover. Really, you do. I’d never sink to such lows. I’m not without my pride, and you’d do well not to forget that. If you’re going to come to me it’ll be willingly and without any tricks. No deceit. That’s what I promised you the first time, isn’t it? A fair and honest exchange?”  

Pausing, Scar takes a moment to drag his heated gaze over the curve of your bare shoulders and neck, and the spot where your arms are loosely crossed in front of your breasts. It’s more to protect them from the chill than from his attention when it was clearly already much too late for that but it seems to delight him all the same. His grin widens, stretching across his face in eager slow motion to settle into a look of giddy anticipation, unnerving you deeply, before he goes on. 

“I don’t need to stoop to that kind of spineless behavior. I wasn’t the one fisting my damned cock from the shadows while you touched yourself out in the open for all to see. If it was my attention you wanted you’ve got it. But I’m not about to sit by while someone else gets off thinking about putting their hands on you. Either you’ll have me or you’ll have no one. I hope that’s clear enough for you, little lamb.” 

You’re more than just a bit blindsided by that declaration and you simply stare up at him in bewildered silence for a long stretch, mouth slightly agape. Of course this doesn’t come as a complete surprise though. You’d gotten the sense that Scar was a truly exhausting individual from your first short encounter with him but it was clear now that you hadn’t understood the full scope of it. He’d already decided that you were his (or would it have been more accurate to say that he was yours?) without stopping long enough to consider your choice in the matter. And it was starting to look like he just might be the most jealous prone man you'll ever meet in this lifetime or the next, considering the unconscious person he’s thrown at your proverbial doorstep with all the pomp and ceremony of a wild cat gifting its favorite human with a fresh kill. The entire thing was completely absurd. 

It was also perilous and indescribably risky, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t turn it back around in your favor though. You had to at least try.  

“I won’t say I’m flattered but I can understand where you’re coming from. It’s hard watching someone else covet what you also want, isn’t it?” You say, trying for reasonable diplomacy. “But does that mean no one else is watching us right now? Were you and him the only ones following me?” 

He issues a sharp bark of laughter in response. “Hah! You really are something else, aren’t you? I practically rip my heart out and give it to you on a silver platter but you’re still more concerned about everyone else than you are with me. Ahh, and yet they call me the cruel and twisted one, don’t they?” 

At Scar’s dramatic, over exaggerated sigh, you shoot him a wry look. It’s an effort not to grudgingly smile at his antics but you manage to refrain, somehow. The very last thing you needed was to encourage him any further. “Just answer the question, Scar. I might be inclined to be a bit more welcoming if you do.” 

Chuckling, he drops the act entirely now and lifts his arms up to indicate the side of the mountain as a whole, like a ringmaster directing his stage. “That’s right, Rover. It’s just you and me now. There was someone else but I’m afraid they ran off to hide elsewhere once I made my move. They don’t like the Fractsidus very much, you see, and they’d rather not have to deal with me if they can help it.” 

Turning his attention downward, he reaches out to nudge at the unconscious man’s ribs with the toe of his boot. Still, the unknown individual doesn’t so much as groan in response even when Scar pulls back and gives him a solid kick that makes you wince, and it worries you more than just a little bit. You were going to have to do something to distract Scar and lead him away before he followed through on his unspoken promise of finishing the job he’d started. It was the right thing to do even if that man had been stalking you right along with everyone else. 

“If you want my opinion that was probably a smart move on their part. And with them out of the picture that just left this pathetic little rat to deal with.” His laughter rising in pitch, Scar delivers another mean kick to the man, half rolling him over onto his side from the force. “I’m sure that’s what you wanted to hear, isn’t it? How many people have been keeping tabs on you?” 

A distant note of surprise curls through you. So he knew then. There was no reason to hide it or beat around the bush in that case. “Do you know who the others are? Can you tell me which faction they belong to, or at least this one?” You ask, indicating the man with a nudge of your chin. 

“Ah, ah, ah. Don’t get ahead of yourself, now. I’m more than happy to continue our game, especially when you’re like this …” Sedately turning towards you again, dull gray and red eyes pointedly drop to indicate the swell of your breasts. He must like what he sees because his smirk takes on a sharper, more predatory edge. 

And you almost catch yourself scoffing, very tempted to remind him that he’d just implied he wasn’t a pervert only a moment ago, but then his gaze travels back up to your face. The way he looks at you, pupils blown wide and soft with an emotion you can’t quite place, as if you’d personally hung the moon and the stars in the night sky, kills the thought before you even get the chance to give it voice.

“But an equal exchange is not so one-sided.” He continues, his tone warm with something not unlike reverence now. “You’re smart, Rover. I’m sure you understand that any healthy relationship involves some amount of give and take, don’t you? That’s what I want from you more than anything else. Just a fair chance.”

You hesitate at the sly purr that creeps into his voice at the tail end and the strange feeling it ignites low in your gut. He certainly knew how to appeal to your emotions — or perhaps it would be more accurate to call it the natural inclinations of your flesh and blood body. There was no denying a strange sort of chemistry brewing just beneath the surface no matter how much you wanted to reject it but you had to keep your head on straight. Scar was much too dangerous for you to throw caution aside, particularly when you were naked and unarmed. You didn’t stand a chance in hell against him like this. 

“That’s nice of you to say but I’m not sure if I have anything I can give you. What do you want in return that you would consider a fair trade?” 

“You.” He insists, putting so much emphasis on just that one single word you almost believe him. “We want you. Always you, my dear. Nothing more and nothing less. You’re the goal, the prize. The much sought after trophy everyone wants for themselves. They need you for their own objectives, their own ends, but I merely want to stand at your side, together. I can give you anything you could ever want or dream of having if you’d just pick me.” 

Frowning, you give your head a slow, solemn shake. “But how can I possibly trust you? There’s so much I just don’t know yet and … what Yangyang said didn’t exactly paint a flattering picture. You have to understand how things look from my perspective.” 

As if someone had flipped a light switch, he sobers at the drop of a coin. Where only just a short moment ago he’d been looking at you with fervent, almost fanatical intention he now draws in on himself and effectively shutters his expression from your watchful gaze. It would have been incredibly disconcerting had you not already seen the contrast of his hot and cold temperament first hand, how wildly he swung from one extreme to the next and without any discernible rhyme or reason dictating it along the way. 

You half expect him to launch himself at you in retaliation, to force you into submission and take you by force, and you weren’t foolish enough to think that there was a whole lot you could’ve done about it when you were so woefully defenseless. But then, to your mounting surprise, he merely draws a slow inhale that makes his chest visibly expand before speaking, perfectly calm and reasonable again. 

“I suppose that’s fair. Disappointing, yes, but it doesn’t come as a great surprise. Unfortunately I wasn’t able to get to you in time before they did and you’ve had all those annoying little birds chittering away in your ear ever since you woke up. It’s no wonder you hesitate to trust me. I don’t blame you for that, little lamb, but at least give me a chance to show you just how sincere I really am before you start making any final decisions. That’s all I ask.”

Your stomach plummets into the ground as you look up at him in real surprise, blinking owlishly. Give him a chance? When that extended olive branch might cost you not only your life but your very soul? Surely he was joking. “I'm not sure I understand … didn’t I give you plenty of time to plead your case back in Qichi village?”

“This is different. It’s just the two of us here now, which means no more pesky interruptions from your nosy little friends or mine. We can talk for hours if we want, or even until the sun rises.” 

Thoughts momentarily drifting to that mysterious Fractsidus woman who’d shown up to retrieve him, you wonder if Scar is really as alone as he was making himself out to be. You’re not so sure you trust it. But when you don't respond he just silently holds out his hand to you in offering, a simple enough gesture that stops your quizzical pondering in its tracks. 

You don’t jump to take his outstretched fingers though, and for good reason. Instead you warily eye the sharp red claws that form on the fingertips of his gloved suit, the considerable size of his palm and the undeniable power he clearly wields, lurking just below the surface. You knew too well that readily falling right into the clutches of the enemy like this might be the very last mistake you ever make, but … this would work as a sufficient distraction to get him away from that unconscious man, wouldn’t it? And you were tempted, oh so very tempted for much less charitable reasons too. There was a sick sort of curiosity simmering like a pot left to stew on low heat in the back of your mind. 

But could you really justify this? Could you rationalize it and make peace with it later on when you were lying in bed at night, awake with only your own thoughts for company? 

Seeing your obvious uncertainty, Scar’s expression pinches slightly at the corners. “Let’s just forget about everything else for a moment. All the different factions and sides, the players and the pawns. Your role in all of this and mine as well. I’m offering myself to you with transparency and honesty, Rover. Give me a chance. I’ll say please, if that’s what you want.” 

“And how am I supposed to know that this isn’t a trap? Surely you must realize I’m at a sore disadvantage right now.” You grumble, indicating your naked breasts with a pointed shrug of your shoulders and Scar outright laughs, the low rumble in his voice belying the excited surge of fast pumping adrenaline he must feel. 

“That’s the thing, isn’t it? You won’t know until you find out for yourself. Guess you’ll just have to trust me.” He gives his fingers a coaxing wriggle, inviting you to accept his offer. “Come on. You look cold sitting there all alone. I can help you warm up and I’ll even promise to be on my best behavior if you just try to meet me in the middle. I don’t think you’ll regret it ~” 

“Your best behavior, huh?” You drolly echo him, hardly believing that such a thing even existed. He seemed the type who was nothing but trouble through and through. You’d be far more surprised if it turned out that he actually did have the capacity to be agreeable than the reverse but, well. You were starting to prune. It was definitely time to get out of the water and you’d much rather do so peacefully than have to fight him tooth and nail while you were cold and stripped bare. 

Somehow you didn’t envision that turning out very well. 

Sighing, you finally relent and shift forward so you can push up onto your knees. It’s hard to fight the feeling that you were making some horrible, monumentally egregious mistake as you reach up to take his offered hand which securely closes around yours like an iron shackle. He could seriously hurt you or even kill you easily enough now that he had you in his hold like this. You knew that perfectly well and you brace yourself for the pin to drop but then, to your growing astonishment, Scar merely tugs you to your feet with a truly unexpected amount of gentleness. 

Honestly you hadn’t thought him capable of such care, but he shows you none of that now familiar manic glee or the thirst for destruction you’d glimpsed once before as he pulls you towards him. His eyes remain locked on your face, unreadable beyond the soft note of satisfaction that creeps into them when he takes half a step back so he can guide you up onto the bank with him. The ground is hard and chilly under your feet yet you hardly notice it at all, so highly tuned in to the man standing before you that you don’t even give it more than a passing thought. 

The sun has almost completely set, you abruptly realize as the two of you come to a halt, the last few lingering remnants of day quickly fading under the encroaching gloom of twilight. Shadows play at his face, further highlighting the intensity behind his eyes when he looks at you, plain and unguarded. There’s something else shining in them too. A silent, wordless plea or perhaps an oath. 

It was almost as foolish as your plan to lure your stalkers out of hiding using your own body as bait, and yet you felt strangely inclined to trust him at his word. Scar would behave himself as long as you gave him the chance he seemed to want so bad, of that you were sure. He’d even said as much to you before, back in that village, hadn’t he? That he wasn’t going to make you hate him just yet. And you didn’t. Not really. You were understandably cautious of him and his motives, and the power you suspected he’d only shown you a very small fraction of, but he hadn’t given you a real reason to consider him your enemy. Perhaps he would in due time, when this tentative and shaky truce between you and him reached its breaking point, but for now at least it couldn’t hurt to hear him out again. 

Could it? 

“There.” He says, pinning you with a pleased little smile. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?” 

“Thank you.” 

“There’s no need for formalities between us, Rover. Don’t thank me. Just accept me and what I can give you.”

Narrowing your eyes at him in warning, you make a halfhearted attempt to tug your hand from his and it really doesn’t come as much of a shock when he refuses to let you go. But in the spirit of playing nice you quickly give up without a fuss, simply resigning yourself to the fact that he was going to continue to hold on until he was good and ready to release you. If such a time ever even came. “You know I can’t blindly do that. You haven’t given me a good reason to trust you yet.” 

“Ooh, are you getting impatient with me, darling? I told you I’d show you my sincerity, didn’t I?” Taking another backwards step, he slowly pulls you further away from the river and you complacently allow it because … you’re actually not sure why you do it.

For all intents and purposes you should have been wrenching away from him and the suggestion of heat you can feel even through his glove. You should have been lurching for your sword, or at least your clothes, but you don’t do any of that. Instead, you shuffle after him and tip your head back to look up at his face, searching for any signs that might indicate his next move. Scar was far too unpredictable to even guess at his thoughts, his inner workings and motives a complete and total mystery to you even now, but his actions were a slightly different story. 

Although still sporadic and off kilter, you can see the intent in his body language before he does it and you instinctively brace when his opposite hand reaches out for you. All he does is touch you with it though, the gesture somehow halting and possessive at the same time when he carefully palms over your bare hip. Like he was testing the waters, you realize, but he was a bit too eager to truly be cautious about it. 

Looking really quite pleased when you neither slap at him or squawk in indignation, he lets his hand settle into place with a vague squeeze to the plushy curve. That implausible heat coming off of him immediately settles into the skin and starts to warm you from the inside out, just like he’d promised he would, and you suck in a shuddering breath of relief. It felt good after the chill of the river. 

“You’re so soft, Rover. I like that.” 

Perfectly casual about it, you drop your attention down the front of him to regard the black zipper on his suit. “And you look rather hard where I’m standing.” You murmur, earning another low chuckle from him. 

“Mmm, is that so? And do you like it?” 

Steeling your courage and resolve, you bring your gaze back up to his. “Scar, this is … I’m willing to talk to you but I think this might be a step too far. I’m sorry.”

He cocks his head, puppy-like both in the gesture itself and in the way he seems to be hanging off your every word with that sappy expression plastered across his face. If you didn’t know any better, you’d almost think you were the instigator here and he the hapless victim being coerced. It was so ass backwards it bordered on laughable. 

“Aw, come on. What do you mean? I’m not going to hurt you if that’s what you’re worried about. Should I prostrate myself at your feet and swear a solemn oath to make you believe me?” 

“It’s not exactly that, just … we’re supposed to be enemies, aren’t we? Or something like that, at least.” 

A quick laugh huffs out of him to accompany the slow shake of his head. “That’s certainly what they want you to think, isn’t it?” 

You lift your brows in question but he decides to forgo a proper answer and silently drags his palm up along your side to cradle around your waist instead. Static electricity rushes along the path his hand took and you almost find yourself swaying unsteadily on your feet at the sheer magnitude of that electrical current. You were starting to understand now. What made this truly dangerous wasn’t just the opposing sides and their ideals, the life or death battle you might someday have to face off against him in or even anything as grand as the fate of this world. It was so harrowing because the chemistry was very much there and it was real. He knew it too. Had likely known it long before he’d actually appeared before you in that abandoned village. The only real question was; would it be enough to truly sway you? 

You’re not quite ready to give up the ghost just yet, you decide, and yet you don’t fight it when he finally releases your hand so he can slide his other palm around your middle as well. He simply holds you in place like that for a drawn out moment, peering down at you with an expression just short of dopey, like he was committing every inch of you to memory. The complexion of your skin, the size and shape of your breasts and the tightly coiled peaks standing up on them. Any blemishes, beauty marks or scars are laid bare before him and yet nothing seems to give him pause or dissuade his interest. And you’re suddenly acutely aware that that’s exactly what it is too. Real, genuine, vibrating interest in you. It was — very close to being overwhelming, having someone look at you like that. 

But then he leans in, bending at the waist so he can close the gap between your height and his, and you’re so sure he’s about to kiss you that you turn your face away to deter him. But all he does is chuckle at the reaction, smoothly tucking his nose in behind your ear where he proceeds to take a deep, savory inhale to taste the scent of you without missing a beat. A sensitive shudder works up your spine and you almost whimper at the sudden, potent flood of molten heat that sweeps through you in a rush. This was really bad. 

“Just relax, Rover.” He drawls, warm breath tickling along the side of your neck. “I won’t force myself on you like some kind of animal or try to make you take responsibility for what you do to me. Ahh, and you do drive me crazy, make no mistake about that. But that’s not your burden to bear, is it? I know it’s not your fault.” 

“Of course it’s not. I never intentionally tried to lead you on so there’s nothing to take responsibility for.” You just barely manage to whisper, struggling to stay grounded in reality when every fiber of your being wanted to give itself over to the temptation he offered. It was crazy and stupid, and so incredibly ill-advised, but with each passing second you were finding it harder and harder to keep up the pretense. More than anything you wanted to take a bite of the forbidden fruit he was holding out to you in humble supplication, a placating offering as much as it was a consecrated sacrifice. 

No, you didn’t just want it. You needed to devour it, every last morsel and crumb until there was nothing left except the smoldering, charred ash of that which had once been. It felt like you were going mad and having him in such terribly close proximity like this was not helping your resolve in the slightest. 

“Hah. Well said, my dear. You certainly are sharp.” Straightening up so he can look you in the face, Scar lets his mouth stretch into a victorious, slashing grin when he sees the way you shudder at the loss of his body heat, mistaking it for something it’s not. “Ooh, but don’t be nervous. I’m a man of my word, you know. You’re safe with me. Much safer than you are with those useless Jinzhou dogs. You can trust me, Rover. I only want to show you exactly where my loyalties lie, that’s all. You’ll let me do that much, won’t you?” 

You send him a slow look of confusion. “I’m not sure what you’re even talking about. What do you mean by that?” You really don’t understand half of the things that come out of his mouth. He was loyal to Fractsidus, wasn’t he? 

But Scar once again chooses not to provide you with a proper explanation, which you probably should have been accustomed to by now. You were beginning to suspect that this was all too commonplace for him and you almost struggle against it when he uses his hold on your waist to gently nudge you into turning around. The way he tauntingly coos at you under his breath is shamefully persuasive though and you soon give in, spinning in place like an obedient if not begrudging little thing until you’ve fully turned your back on him. 

It was an exceedingly foolish decision to make. He could have easily grabbed you around the throat and squeezed until your airway was crushed, or even snap your neck with very little effort to show for it. You should have known better. You did know better. 

Yet neither of those things happen. 

Instead of ending you right then and there, you feel Scar shift behind you and bend close. The ends of his hair brush against the nape of your neck just so, seconds before he places a brief, lingering kiss to the jut of your shoulder. You startle at the contact but he doesn’t seem to pay it any mind other than a short lived, savory laugh at your expense. 

Following the gently sloping line of your shoulder, he gradually makes his way up to the base of your neck one lingering peck at a time, then higher still to ghost over your quickened pulse. Through it all his hands remain stationary around your waist, neither demanding reciprocatory attention from you nor roaming about to explore your body any further than what he could touch with his mouth. He just holds you in place, cradling you there against him. It’s not exactly what you would have expected from someone like him, someone who seemed perfectly content to just take whatever he wanted without remorse; and you have to suck in a slow, faltering breath to steady yourself when he works his way back, starting to kiss a hot path down the curve of your spine now.

Mouthing at the center line of your body, Scar hunches even closer so he can continue down between your shoulderblades, charting a steady and unhurried path towards your waist. You aren’t entirely sure what to make of it but quickly decide that you don’t hate what he’s doing enough to put a stop to it. His hands did feel good on your skin, and so did his coarse lips. Perhaps you were too easily swayed but that was a problem for you to sort out and unpack another day. You certainly didn’t have the time or the brain power for it right now. 

Especially not when, without so much as a word of warning or an explanation to go with it, you feel him drop to his knees behind you. It’s unmistakable, from the distinct sound of his long coat hitting the ground to the way his denser frame goes from looming right behind you one moment to being about level with your hips the next. The suddenness of it makes your heart lodge itself in your throat, and you let out a small squeak of surprise as you half twist around to look back at him. 

“H - hey, what do you think you’re doing?” 

As expected, you find him peering up at you from where he’s knelt in the dirt with those big, soft eyes he only ever seems to make at you. It was as absurd as it was disconcerting, and you absolutely hate the way it causes your resolve to weaken even more. He looked good down there, you’re more than just a bit horrified to realize. Almost too good for you to keep pretending like you didn’t want to continue on in this manner with him. 

“Hush, Rover. You want proof, don’t you? You want a reason to trust me? Then let me give you one.” 

“I don’t really see how - -“

You cut yourself off with a sharp, harried gasp when his hands abruptly start to move. First they slide forward to tauntingly rake down your front, leaving the faintest sting of scratch marks across your stomach before dragging back around to possessively paw over the curve of your hips. He pauses there to give you a tight squeeze, nails sinking into flesh but not quite breaking the skin yet. The threat of it is there though. That silent promise that he could easily tear into you if he really wanted to sobers you slightly, but he doesn’t do it. Instead he just eases up his hold on you enough to palm over your thighs, down and then straight up the backs of them until his splayed fingers finally press into the underside of your ass. 

Heat immediately rushes into your face when understanding dawns but he doesn’t grant you enough time to protest before he’s cupping both cheeks to knead and lift the weight of them. You shuffle your feet, embarrassed, but even trying to angle yourself away from him does very little to deter Scar from his goal. He just pinches your backside in a tighter hold, letting out an appreciative, rumbling sigh as he slowly spreads your ass open to expose you to his voracious and hungry gaze. 

You suddenly feel extremely lightheaded. And not only because of the first waft of cool air against your most private of areas but also the innate knowledge that he was looking at you completely uninterrupted like this. The pudgy seam of your cunt, the tight pucker of your asshole. All was laid bare when Scar was holding you spread open like that and the fact his face was only mere inches away didn’t help the self conscious siren that goes off in the back of your mind either. Your one and only consolation in such a deeply humiliating situation is that you were fresh out of a bath and as clean as one could possibly get when they were washing up in a river, which you certainly hoped was clean enough given the circumstances. 

“You … I thought you said you weren’t a pervert earlier?” 

He offers up a soft laugh at that, his warm breath once again fanning across your skin, except this time it suggestively tickles over  … 

“Oh, but I didn’t say that now did I, darling? I merely told you that I wouldn’t tolerate any other perverts getting off because of you. I never claimed to be a virtuous saint myself.” 

The suggestion of that alone is downright comedic but you can’t quite find the wherewithal to laugh about it right now. Not when you were focusing the vast majority of your energy on simply staying upright and balanced while also doing your best to keep your legs pressed together at the same time, hoping to preserve at least some of your remaining dignity. 

But it was an awkward and uncertain stance to take, and it leaves you swaying almost dizzily on your feet even as you reach back to blindly swat at his head. You��re well aware that you really ought to have been shoving him away, kicking and swinging at him in a flurry of righteous indignation. Unfortunately your heart just really wasn’t in it though. Your lack of conviction didn’t make it any less embarrassing, being spread and ogled like that, but there wasn't much you could do about it when your body starts to respond in kind. You were getting excited. Damn him. 

In the end all you succeed in doing is fruitlessly smacking at the side of his head, yet he still lets out a rumbling sound of encouragement in response. Like he wouldn’t have minded it much if you’d put more intent behind it, and you just quietly seethe through your teeth in response. 

Fumbling to get your hand up again, you mercilessly shove it into his hair and close a tight first at the root so you can yank his head back, putting at least some space between you and him. Twisting around at the same time, you pin Scar with an incredulous, flustered look. “Are you serious? This is the big ace up your sleeve? There’s no way you actually think that’s going to work!”  

Noising a brief, decidedly unbothered sound of agreement, Scar makes a show of licking his lips before tipping his neck back to nudge into your fist. That tawdry motion just further exposes the jagged Tacet Mark carved across his throat and draws your attention to it even when you try to ignore its exigent pull. The picture he paints kneeling there on the ground is lurid and provocative, off putting and yet tantalizing in the worst possible way. Inviting, almost. 

And it works. God help you but it achieves exactly what it was likely meant to, and a warm pulse starts up between your legs with a slow, anticipatory clench. He was sick, no doubt about that, but so were you for humoring him like this in as much as you have. 

“You’re right. I don’t actually think this is going to sway you over to our side or even make for a very convincing argument when all is said and done. I might be crazy but I’m not stupid.”

At your bewildered look, he chuckles a low sound under his breath. 

“I already said it once before, didn’t I? You’re smart, Rover, and I’m well aware just how smart you really are. If something as simple as this was actually enough to convince you then I wouldn’t have wasted so much time trying to talk to you up to this point, now would I?” He goes on, imploringly tipping his head to the side and half dragging your hand along with it where you were still gripping onto his hair. “Just believe me for once, won’t you? I really meant it when I said to put everything else aside for the moment. This is just about you and me right now. Forget about sides and factions, and all their troublesome rules. None of that matters here as far as I’m concerned. I only wish to show you that I’ve been nothing if not sincere this whole time and perhaps even earn myself a sliver of your trust while I’m at it.”

You swallow hard when his fingers idly dig into you with a palpitating squeeze, sharp nails threatening to cut and render flesh. He doesn’t do it though. Whether that’s because he knew doing so wouldn’t earn him any favors in your book or because he simply wouldn’t do it to you, it’s impossible to say. But the fact he refrains, regardless of the reason why, goes a long way in assuring you that this wasn’t going to end in a bloody showdown. And if it would get him to stop holding your cheeks open any quicker then you were willing to go along with it. 

“Fine. I’m listening.” 

A gravelly, almost animalistic sound rises from him at your acquiescence and you watch in something not unlike fascination as his expression shifts, discarding that big eyed puppy dog look in favor of something much more rapacious. Eyes sharpening with an edge of that familiar manic glee, Scar roves his attention back down to regard the shameful spread of your body. His hands adjust, loosening and then tightening in a better grip around the meat of your ass so he can give it an appreciative, taunting jostle. You whimper softly in the back of your throat and tip forward on your toes, trying to stamp down the urge to start squirming. It was very hard not to do when he was staring at you like that, with only a short few inches separating his nose from your vulnerable groin. 

But you don’t pull away or move to stop it as he leans in to deliver a soft, fleeting peck to the meat of one cheek before turning his head so he can do the same to the other. There’s a note of unmistakable reverence in the way he kisses your body, like you were communion and holy relic all wrapped into one. It might have been flattering, it may have even gone to your head and inflated your ego under better circumstances. But better circumstances would not have found you stark naked out in the wilderness with a man who was supposed to be your enemy prostrating himself at your feet like an altar. You’re deeply frazzled by the whole thing, not having expected this particular outcome when you’d decided to take his extended hand. 

That flustered, jittery nerves feeling only grows stronger when he pecks his way up to the starting seam of your backside, kissing at the top and then slowly working his way down that naturally formed line. You realize what he’s aiming for perhaps a little too late and you suck in a sharp breath of surprise as his lips press into the tight pucker of your hole. Startled goosebumps erupt all over your skin to accompany the soft mewl you involuntarily let out, rocking unsteadily on your feet, but he seems not to pay it any mind. 

Just lingering there with his mouth pressed right up against your asshole, Scar issues a quiet groan that seems to reverberate and echo through you a million times over. Your own excitement quickly starts to climb, the sensation of eager slick forming at the proper entrance of your cunt prompting you to cautiously inch your legs apart in hopes of inviting him to direct his attention lower. 

But of course that doesn’t work. Scar was the farthest thing from cooperative even when he was putting on a show and insisting he was a good boy — would be a good boy for you if only you’d give him the chance. It was laughable in retrospect and you probably should have seen this coming considering who you were dealing with. Yet you just hiss like a spitting, incensed cat, neither trying to swat him away or extricate yourself from his hold when he purses his lips, kissing at your hole before opening his mouth wide and then sealing it over your entrance. 

The first meaty wet swipe of his tongue flicking out over the wrinkled pucker in a broad swipe makes you jolt as if he’d electrocuted you. Trembling from your head straight down to your toes, your hand comes up to press over your mouth and silence the truly embarrassing sounds that were trying to crawl their way out of your constricting throat. To be looked at there was already bad enough, but being licked was somehow even worse. And the fact he does it without shame or even any remorse only seems to highlight your own pinpoint self-conscious reaction. 

You shift to the side, hoping to dissuade him, and he just follows you. Presses his face more firmly into the space between your cheeks and delivers a wet, smacking slurp to your ass before pulling back a fraction of an inch. Letting out a heady sound that falters at the tail end and peters out into a hungry moan of pleasure, Scar quickly shoves his mouth up against you again and he’s right back at it. His surprisingly supple lips eagerly locate that tight pucker so he can kiss it deeply, encouraging your body to respond. 

And it does, with truly startling results. Not only was your cunt starting to weep in sympathetic pleasure, becoming soft and sticky for him, but your hole also begins to puff up under the periodic suction he applies to it. The feeling is a strange one, not exactly pleasurable in the strictest sense, but there’s no denying the effect it has on you when the physical proof was so obvious and stark. 

Choking on a half strangled noise, you twist your upper body around and reach back to snag another fistful of his hair. You were torn between either shoving him away or pulling him further in against you, but you finally settle on gritting out a soft, “I can’t believe you’re actually doing that …” 

He pulls back at the sound of your voice, not the halfhearted tug you give to his hair, and he laughs a thick, deeply masculine sound into the scant space. “And yet you’re happily letting me do it, Rover! Funny how that works, isn’t it?” 

A fresh flood of heat spills into your face but you couldn’t exactly deny it or say it wasn’t the truth. You were allowing this to happen. It didn’t really matter if it was vaguely mortifying, having someone lick you in such a personal and private spot, because you weren’t doing anything to stop it. Even you were a bit surprised at your own lack of protest but fine, if that was how he wanted to play this game then so be it. 

Decisively, you shove your discomfort and uncertainty aside. Quickly readjust your hold on Scar’s haphazard shock of hair, get a better grip on it and then pull him back up against you again. That he allows it, simply rocking forward on his knees to let you guide him straight back into the cradle of your backside surprises you slightly, but in reality it probably shouldn’t have. He was quite clearly a shameless, unapologetic heathen of the worst kind, and if this went on for much longer there seemed a high probability that he was going to start rubbing off on you too. He already was, in a way. 

Because you find yourself arching your back and jutting your ass up a bit higher, pushing into him. It’s supposed to be petty and maybe just a little bit mean but he only laughs out another half smothered sound before tipping his head so he can seal his lips over your asshole more securely than before. His tongue mercilessly lashes out to lap across the dip in the center and coat you in an obscene amount of drool that slowly drips down and off his chin. But if he’s at all concerned about how messily he’s eating you out he certainly doesn’t show it. Doesn’t even seem to acknowledge it as far as you can tell, and you soon find that you’re choking on a sharp inhale when he directs his tongue to the middle of your slackening pucker. 

Poking, prodding and teasing at it, he takes a moment to just taunt you with the suggestion before at last pressing the fleshy wet tip into you. Your body rejects it at first, clenching tight to keep him out, but the loosened state of the muscle quickly gives way when he worms his tongue right into the vulnerable center to just dip inside the rim. The sensation rips an undignified squeal out of you, every single hair follicle suddenly standing on end as you rock forward with such a powerful jolt that you almost tip yourself off balance. 

Scar is quick, however, and he unlatches his clawed fingers from the death grip he’s had on your cheeks in favor of reaching up to anchor around your waist instead. You’re not entirely sure if his intention had been to steady you or to stop you from escaping, but you still breathe out a terse sigh of relief anyway. 

His hold on you quickly proves more of a curse than a blessing though, and that relief promptly morphs into mute horror when he uses your love handles to yank you back against him. You almost stumble and fall, blindly reaching down to latch onto his blocky wrists, but he doesn’t even seem to notice. He just keeps tugging on your hips until he’s got you effectively straddling his face, all but sitting on him now. That just leaves you desperately trying to find some semblance of balance in such an awkward, bow legged position and you almost don’t succeed. 

“Hold on! Y - you don’t need to do that, I’m not going anywhere!” 

His response is completely muffled to the point of being unintelligible, effectively lost under the weight of your ass (forcibly) settling on top of his mouth. Your face feels hot enough to catch fire as you unsteadily glance down at where his hands are squeezing deep gouges into the meat around your middle and your wide splayed legs. Your toes just barely manage to touch the ground and find some semblance of stability like this, bare feet bracketing his pelvis and effectively drawing your attention to the demanding tent behind his front zipper. The sight of it makes your eyes go big and round, and very nearly stops you in your tracks. If you’d thought he looked hard before, he was downright galvanized now. You almost couldn’t believe it. 

Scar was really enjoying this that much? 

He shifts underneath you then, ripping you from your gobsmacked thoughts when he rolls his tongue up against your hole and begins to prod at its center again. Seething, you give a weak little jerk in an attempt to dislodge yourself from his grasp but it’s no use. He’s horribly sturdy under you, even with the majority of your weight balancing on his nose, and you quickly realize that you have no chance of getting yourself free at this point. Damn him. 

“Seriously,” You groan, impatiently sucking on your teeth. “If you’re so determined to do this then … at least lick more towards the front while you’re down there.” 

His responding chuckle jostles you slightly but you don’t find anything about this particularly funny. Not when you were effectively trapped in a balancing act and just the briefest loss of focus seemed like it would send you sprawling out on the ground, and probably take him right along with you. Scar may have been unexpectedly strong given his lithe, largely compact frame but he was hardly in any position to catch you when he himself was bent back at an angle meant to accommodate your height. He wasn’t that much bigger than you, in truth. It was in part what had made fighting him before not seem like such an insurmountable feat when you’d already fought monsters that were at least double his size many times before. 

But he doesn’t seem like he’s only a little bit taller than you and only a little bit wider when he somewhat roughly manhandles you further back until you can feel his coarse lips brushing just over the seam of your cunt. You outright gasp at the sensation of sticky slick smearing against his chin and his mouth, yet it doesn’t seem to bother him any more than the spit had. And now that he’s found a pocket of empty space between your thighs, he laughs. Low and seedy, thickened with something dark that you dare not name, the sound of it sending a reverb of excited tremors racing through your system. 

“Ooooh, little lamb,” He chortles, seemingly torn between moaning in pleasure or cackling in delight. “All you had to do was ask! I told you, didn’t I? I’m doing this for you. Everything has always been for you! If you want this sweet little pussy of yours ate then that is exactly what you’ll get!” 

The intensity in his voice, the strength of conviction in that declaration, makes something uneasy curl inside of you. You’d almost forgotten he was crazy. A maniac and a twisted sadist, according to Yangyang, and of which you had no doubt. Your guard had been lowered far too much, you quickly decide — but when you try to dismount from him, in earnest this time, Scar merely tightens his hold around your waist. It’s easy enough for him to keep you in place when you couldn’t quite find enough traction to kick off from the ground, and all you can do is let out a low, keening mewl as he tugs you down to close that hair's breadth gap between his mouth and your cunt. 

All at once his lips are suddenly on you, kissing and nipping at sensitive skin while his tongue intermittently lashes out to taste you. He’s more like a starved beast than a man in that moment as he laps up slick and eager juices with a hungry voracity, pressing so deeply into you that you’re not quite certain how he isn't suffocating himself like this. You’re hardly in any position to worry about that right now though, your heart hammering out a wild rhythm against your ribcage as you precariously teeter there and viciously dig your nails into his forearms in a desperate bid to keep yourself upright. You aren’t sure what kind of material his suit is made out of but all it does is softly creak under the force of your grip and you never break the skin below no matter how hard you try.

But Scar doesn’t even seem to feel it at all, much too preoccupied with working his mouth further up your cunt so he can locate the delicate pleasure button nestled within. And his tongue is like a maddened serpent, aggressively spearing through soft, satiny creases and folds until he at last knocks against the spot that makes you involuntarily jolt. You freeze on top of him, startled at the intense sensation that zaps through you all at once, and he huffs out a victorious breath against your pussy. 

Tongue curling out and up, he presses it flat over the apex of your slit and almost leisurely undulates the wet muscle to massage at that hypersensitive spot. Your breath snags, making you sway in a dizzy, lightheaded swoon. It nearly catches you off guard how good it actually feels. All warm and sticky, soft and yet the pressure is applied firmly enough to make your thighs quake around his head. The building pressure in your loins abruptly doubles and then triples, eagerly gushing yet more arousal to coat his face. It wasn’t just pleasurable, it was downright exquisite. 

“Ohh! That’s … oooh, Scar! Right there!”

He hums a faint sound of acknowledgment, the resulting pulse running through your cunt to make the nerve endings tingle. You don’t have to see his expression to know he’s quite pleased to hear you moaning his name like that. In fact you’re certain he’s very smug about it, the bastard. He probably thinks he’s won, that his gambit had actually worked and you would be persuaded by his poor excuse for charm. If you’d had the oxygen for it, you would have laughed. 

Unfortunately he’s a little too good at eating you out and the ministrations of his tongue effectively rob you of the ability to breathe. It’s hard just to think.  All you can do is softly wheeze, struggling to keep your weight centered in the middle, but that too has its own drawbacks as well. 

Perched over his mouth like this there’s very little wriggle room for you to lift up and give yourself any reprieve from what he’s doing. Gravity just forces you down and the need for stability keeps you still, which leaves your pussy resting flush with his tongue. There was no escaping it even if you’d wanted to, and your hips give a tiny, restless nudge to grind against him when the internal pressure rapidly swells. 

Luckily he takes that as his cue to stop fooling around and he sets in to attack your clit in earnest now. His tongue curls back to zero in on it, swirling the fleshy nub with tight, narrow circles to knock it from all sides before flattening the wet muscle. The way he proceeds to grind into that receptive bundle of nerves sends intense, shuddering shockwaves throughout your body and you awkwardly arch to jut your tits up into the air. Scar’s hold on you doesn’t so much as falter no matter how hard you shake though, which is a relief as much as it is a horrifying thought in the back of your cotton stuffed mind. You were more certain than ever now that he’d taken it easy on you back when you’d fought in his Elysium dimension. 

It was obvious that he hadn’t really wanted to hurt you back there when he so clearly could have but then … why? Why did he want you so much that he was even willing to go this far? 

“Nnghhn, please Scar … I don’t know how much longer I can stay like this! Just — put me down!”  

He issues a faint growl in response, one that you think is meant to tell you to forget about it. But then, to your reeling surprise, his hands carefully push you forward a step so that you can slide off his face and settle more squarely on your feet. A trembling sigh of relief shudders out of you even as his palms drag back over your hips to squeeze the meat of your backside and spread you open again. Whimpering at the rush of cool air that comes in to waft over your cunt and emphasize just how much of a sticky mess he’s made of you, you gratefully sink down to kneel on the ground and settle between his spread knees. 

The muscles in your thighs are very grateful for the break and it doesn’t come as much of a shock when he simply follows after you, huffing a gruff sound as his hands descend upon your ass. His vibrating, almost jittery excitement is nearly palpable, almost perfectly mirroring yours, and you don’t protest when he roughly pushes you forward to elevate your lower half, angling your cunt right up at him. 

“Fuck, just look at that pretty pussy. You’re perfect, Rover. I want to lay the whole world at your feet, entire kingdoms and dynasties reduced to ash, but even that wouldn’t be enough. You deserve to have it all. Everything you could ever want, anything at all, and only I can give it to you. I’m the one you should choose!” 

“What I really want right now is for you to shut up.” You murmur, rocking back into him with a pointed nudge. “Be quiet and finish what you started, Scar.” 

“Oooho, and it would be my pleasure.” He snickers, the undeniable amusement in his voice commingling with something much darker, more primal. It sounds like the husk of a death rattle, almost, but you don’t get the chance to linger on that thought. 

He’s bending close again to put his mouth on the fleshy seam of your body but this time you don’t have gravity working against you, forcing you to stay still and complacent. Moaning softly, you arch your back to better present your cunt to him and he takes a quick, appreciative swipe along your slit in response. Then he’s tonguing you open, working messy folds and creases apart so he can slip inside pudgy lips and find that thrumming nerve cluster again. You outright choke when he knocks it, pussy clenching and unclenching around nothing as stars erupt across your vision. 

Your fingers dig into the ground underneath you as you allow yourself to stiffly relax into the blinding onslaught of sensation that comes with him eating you out from the back. He’s just as enthusiastic and borderline aggressive about it as he’d been when you were all but sitting on his face. You were starting to realize now that this was just his default setting and he didn’t seem to know anything else or how to tone it down. It was something you’d likely have to work with him on, if you decided to humor this absurdity beyond just this one unexpected encounter. 

And given how talented he was with his mouth, you were feeling oddly inclined to keep this shaky truce going. 

“Ohh! God, you’re a messy eater …” 

Laughing a brief sound, Scar seals his lips over your pulsing clit and gives it a surprisingly gentle suck, almost as if in way of an apology. You didn’t believe that for one second though. He didn’t seem the type who was ever sorry about much of anything, but certainly not something like this. 

Seething through your teeth, you stiffly lower your front closer to the ground so you can nudge your cunt further into his mouth, encouraging him to keep going. And he does, but not without giving your clit one last savory, lip smacking slurp. You sensitively jerk at the sound, internally wincing, but he’s already unlatching himself so he can press his tongue into that meaty little nub and trace nonsensical patterns over it, dragging it back and forth, back and forth. Up and then down. 

Your thighs quickly start to shake when the bubbling pressure in your loins rapidly swells with his ministrations, edging so close to the precipice that you can all but taste it in the back of your tongue. Mewling as quietly as you can manage, you numbly reach up with one hand to cup your own breast in a blind fumble. The gesture was perfunctory at best when you were already inching dangerously close to release but your fingers still distractedly tweak over the nipple anyway. It’s stiff and aching, and the idle stimulation just rushes straight to your gushing cunt. You were so close. 

“Ooohhnnghh … keep going. Just like that.”

Shaking his head almost like a wet, mangy stray, Scar nuzzles further into you and settles somehow even deeper into your pussy. He opens his mouth wide, the drag of his rough lips against you making you shudder seconds before he presses his tongue flush to your slit and drags it straight up through your labia. Following the naturally formed crease, he dips right over your entrance and then higher still to take another sticky lap at your asshole. Your breath catches at the sensation, eyes staring wide and unseeing at the spot where your unoccupied hand is splayed out on the ground. He doesn’t pause long enough for you to tell him to knock it off though, and all you can do is let out a startled groan when he rudely shoves his tongue into your ass so he can fuck you with it. 

Your teeth clench tightly at the static shock that rushes through you, absolutely hating the way the muscles in your lower half weakly pulse in response to the intrusion. His hands, so big and warm, possessively groping at your backside prove equally distracting, especially when he pinches and spreads you open again, making it even easier for his tongue to spear past the loosened ring. You’d never felt anything like it before, had never imagined it would feel this good, and you finally let out a hiccuping sob of frustration when the first real warning tremor makes you seize. 

“Scar, please!” 

Groaning a wild, animalistic sound, the Fractisdus Overseer pulls back and slides his squirming tongue from your hole. He pauses just long enough to deliver one more smacking peck to the loosened and puffed up rim before kissing his way back down your cunt, nosing at you as he goes. 

It was hard to reject the idea that he was very much like a dog after all, albeit an aggressive and untamed one; but a dog nonetheless when he was so shameless about the whole thing. Clearly it didn’t matter which part of your body it was or how much of a mess he made in the process. Like some deep seeded, primal urge was spurring him on, he operated with one goal and one goal only in mind, and that seemed to be the simple need to get as close to you as he physically could. Almost like he was scenting you, or perhaps coating himself in your smell. Both seemed equally likely. 

But if that really was his goal then it was certainly working. There was so much accumulated slick and spit coating your pussy that when he presses into you again a soft, wet squelch rings through the air. Your toes instinctively curl as if in preparation, as if you were bracing yourself for something much bigger to nudge at your entrance and push in, but all that slots against you is Scar’s nose while his mouth settles back over your clit. He licks you with broad, steady strokes of the muscle for a moment but quickly switches gears to flicking it back and forth, battering at that fleshy little nub with a single mindedness that almost makes you go cross eyed. The pleasure is so immediate and so intense that you give a violent jerk, hand falling away from your breast to smack against the ground and gouge your nails into the cool earth. It’s suddenly ten times harder to draw a full breath than it was only a moment ago and, hips juddering, you rear back on his face with a wounded, faltering bleat of pleasure. 

And the chord snaps, just like that. It’s so sudden that it catches you unawares and you lurch, letting out a series of half stifled yet frantic gasps as the spasms of release hit you full force. But he keeps you pressed right up against him no matter how much you buck or twist, his hold on your hips downright painful now. Sharp fingertips dig into your skin hard enough to leave marks, hard enough to draw little pinpricks of blood. The distant nick of inhuman claws slowly sinking into flesh serves as a constant reminder of just how dangerous this was for you, a tiny distant voice in the back of your head saying ‘I told you so’, and yet you can’t quite find it in you to care very much about that right now. 

Not when you were soaring on a high so exquisitely satisfying it makes the backs of your eyes sting with sensitive tears. Luridly moaning now, you quake through the rest of your orgasm and savor the blinding starbursts that shoot off inside you in quick, pulsating succession. Your pussy clenches uncontrollably against his face, practically drowning him with arousal, but Scar just keeps lapping at you throughout the height of your pleasure until you finally start to come down from it an extended beat later, piece by excruciating piece. 

It’s only when your breathy groans start to take on a dire, vaguely frazzled edge does he at last pull away with a thick growl of his own. You feel him lean back then, giving you some much needed space, and you gratefully blow out a spent exhale of relief even as he starts to busy himself with using both hands to knead at your upturned ass. If it kept him content for the time being then you were fine with it. You desperately needed a chance to ground and reorient before dealing with him any further. 

Which you would. Very soon, once you got your breathing back under control. 

Honestly you hadn’t expected him to be good at that at all, let alone that good. 

“Oh, Rover,” He sighs out, almost dreamy and punchdrunk, the sound of his rough hewn voice drawing you out of your reverie. “I do hope you enjoyed that half as much as I did but I’d be happy to give you an encore if you’re still not quite satisfied yet. Just say the word and I’ll do whatever it is you want ~”

“Tch. I bet you’d like that.” 

“I would.” Scar readily agrees, giving your ass a slow, anticipatory pinch, and you volley right back with a low scoff in return. 

Gathering yourself together, you carefully push up and twist to glance back at him with what you hope is an unamused look. Somehow you’re not the least bit surprised to find his lips and cheeks damp with a vague sheen you can just make out under the moonlight, bits of hair sticking to his forehead where he’d gotten a little too messy with it. He looked like a wet dream come to life, if you were being honest, but no way in hell were you about to tell him that.

“You sure are confident. Who’s to say I even liked the first round enough to go another with you? Maybe once was enough.” 

“Aww, don’t say that. I know it’s not true, for starters. I have the evidence to prove that all over my face, don’t I?” He lets his mouth curl into a lazy but no less smug smirk, very much looking like a mischievous feline who’s eaten one too many canary’s. “Besides, you were certainly moaning my name in the most deliciously sweet voice only a few minutes ago. You don’t have to be shy with me, little lamb. Enjoying it isn’t a bad thing and it also doesn’t make you any less fierce in my eyes.” 

“What do you want me to say to that? Should I thank you for it?” 

A short lived laugh makes his shoulders rise and then fall. “No, not at all. That’s not what I want to hear right now.” 

“Then what do you expect from me?” 

“I want you to say you’ll be mine.” 

The candid way he says it surprises you a great deal and you quickly shrug off your own satiated afterglow to look at him. Really look at him this time. It was still the same man you’d met in that abandoned village, still the same person who’d forcibly separated you from Yangyang before hand feeding you clues through a dark tale of sacrificial sheep and shepherds. His eyes had lost that sharp, manic tinged edge though and he was now intently watching you with a noticeable fondness reflected in his expression. It softened his whole face and made him look nearly boyish. Unassuming, in a way. 

You’d almost forgotten your earlier revelation, that he seemed truly interested in you and not necessarily what you were. Granted you hadn’t quite figured what that was yet but … 

“Why do you want me so bad, Scar? There must be a reason.” 

He gives his head a slow shake, trying to stifle a fresh peel of laughter. “There are many reasons to want you, Rover. Don’t underestimate or sell yourself short. I’m sure you’re the one we’ve been waiting for. I’ve been certain of it since the moment you woke up here. More importantly though, I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that you’re one I’ve been waiting for. Can’t you feel it too?” 

You send him a quizzical frown but it’s obvious he isn’t going to elaborate any further than that. It’s clear in the way he just tips his head to the side, peering over at you with a sense of peace bred from reverence, or something close to it. Almost like … it was almost like being in close proximity with you had a calming effect that helped chase away at least some of the madness for a time. He didn’t look crazy to you in that moment. If anything you almost got the sense that he was so painfully sincere that it bordered on fanatical, as if you could do no wrong in his eyes and there was no low he wouldn’t sink to if you asked it of him. 

Perhaps his demonstration had accomplished what it was meant to then, because you believed him. Against your better judgment and common sense, you were now certain that he at least fully believed what he was saying so you had no choice but to believe it too. He probably didn’t deserve your pity if even only half of the things you’d heard were true and yet … 

Finally letting out a slow breath through your nose, you lift your hand and reach back to gently touch his shoulder. At your careful push, he leans further back, letting his hands fall from your ass to rest in his lap instead. You’re not entirely sure why you do it but, swallowing down your nerves, you go up on your knees so that you can kneel between the spread of his legs and then lean into him. 

Scar blinks at you, clearly surprised, but he doesn’t pull away or protest when you get right up in his face. He just tips his mouth towards you, those mismatched eyes locked on yours with a burning intensity that probably would have stopped a lesser person in their tracks. You’re decidedly lacking in self preservation tonight though because it doesn’t even give you pause, and you simply press your mouth to his in a lingering, featherlight kiss. 

A sudden puff of air escapes him in a rush at the contact, even for as brief as it is, and sends a static jolt through the both of you. Your pussy gives a muted, distant flutter of interest at the soft whimper he noises, sounding so needy and tender that it almost shatters your resolve. But you manage to cling to it somehow, determined only to get him back for the mess he’s made of you and nothing more. It was probably a bad idea to get any more tangled up with him than you already were. 

No, it was definitely a bad idea. Possibly even the worst one you’d ever flirted with. 

But that knowledge doesn’t stop you from following through on this impulsive decision, and you soon disengage from him so you can shuffle further back into the space between his legs. A quick glance over your shoulder shows him just as hard as he’d been the last time you’d looked, the strain of his erection making the black zipper protrude from the rest of his slate-gray bodysuit and rumple the curious fabric in the most fascinating of ways. You could feel more than just a passing interest solidifying in the back of your mind and you were awfully tempted to throw caution aside, to pull on that ridiculous zip and find out exactly what was hidden inside. 

Instead you rear back, lift your ass and then plop it down right on top of that aggressive tent, and he outright chokes as if you’d just sucker punched him. One clawed hand comes up to take bruising hold of your already sore hip, the other braced against the ground to steady himself. A truly unnatural snarl rises in his chest to make him sound like some sort of half crazed beast, but he doesn’t try to shove you off or question what you’re doing. He doesn’t even seem to know what to do with it now that it’s (quite literally) fallen right into his lap; his breath coming a little quicker as he turns his attention downward to take in the sight of you sitting atop his cock with wide, borderline fanatical eyes. 

Stiff and halting, Scar experimentally rolls his pelvis up into you, and the demanding nudge of him between your legs nearly makes your mouth drop open in a heated groan. Right there. He was right where you needed him the most, pressed up tight against your entrance to tease the suggestion of real penetration. You badly wanted it, you’re more than just a bit ashamed to realize. Your pussy felt terribly empty and in need of a good stretching, of which you were certain he not only could provide but would be happy to. The only thing standing between you and that particular end to this foolhardy encounter was the thin layer of his suit but it would have been oh so very easy for you to simply unzip it and claim your prize for yourself. 

You probably would have even given in had the situation been just a little bit different, if the context of danger wasn't an ever present threat under the surface of every encounter with him. But you’re on a self appointed mission and you merely grind your cunt down to drag over his straining erection, gasping softly when he digs right up into your sensitized clit in the process. Gods, this was so very risky. 

“Rover.” 

“Shut up.” You snap, not even bothering to hide your irritation with him, with this whole ordeal as you start to gingerly move. Whether by virtue of his smooth bodysuit or the obscenely wet quality of your cunt, you find yourself easily gliding over that flexing bulge with a sinfully smooth motion that begets an equally easy rhythm. This was much too simple, too comfortable, for someone who was supposed to be your enemy. “You said you would do whatever I wanted, didn’t you? Well, I want you to stop talking. Think you can handle that?” 

Scar lets out a strained, largely distracted laugh, his attention clearly focused on the meaty press of your pussy lips where they drag over the firm outline of him. “My, my, I had no idea needing to get fucked would make you so short tempered! Although I am flattered you want to use me for your own pleasure in this way, I think I should probably remind you that I can do a much better job of … seeing to your needs if you’d let me take it out first.”

Huffing, you ignore him and bring your hands down to brace against his taut thighs, aiming to giving yourself better leverage. It works, you’re quite relieved to find, and the motion of your hips becomes a bit more sure, less tentative. The quiet moan that escapes from him reaches your ears a moment later, the sound rushing straight down to your cunt. This clearly had the potential to backfire in the worst possible way if it went on for too long. You already felt much too tempted to simply reach down and fish his cock out, angle it up at your entrance and sink down on him straight to the base. Hopefully it wouldn’t come to that. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction or another reason to be so smug and cocky about everything. 

And given the way his narrow hips quickly start to shudder and tense up underneath you, you’re relatively certain that it won’t. He was either unaccustomed to such physical exchanges, of having a hot, damp pussy dragging right over his cock, so close to skin on skin contact it was borderline torture for both of you, or he was embarrasibgly weak to being on the receiving end of your attention specifically. It may have even been some deadly combination of the two working in tandem with each other. 

But you had to give him credit where it was due and in this at least Scar certainly deserved the reward you were giving him. No matter how much he sensitively twitches or groans, still so vocal even when he wasn’t talking, he does not try to press the matter any further or coerce you into it, nor does he resort to simply forcing you into doing things his way. He just grips you so tight it hurts while he needily thrusts his pelvis up from the ground to meet your stilted motion and maintain the rhythm, which went a very long way in earning him a few points in his favor. Evidently he could be rather obedient when he wanted and you quite liked that side of him, you had to admit. Maybe even liked it a little too much, if the deluge of fresh slick oozing out of you was any indication. 

“Nnghn … if you keep doing that - -“

“I know.” You cut him off, heart rate quickening to match the increasingly eager way you grind against him. “This is payback for what you did to me. Just — finish and get it over with.”

“Hah! Oooh, you really are just full of surprises, aren’t you? Who knew such a precious little lamb could be so petty.” He drawls, trying for confident and unbothered, but there’s no missing the jittery quality of his voice. Like it was taking the vast majority of his self control to keep him in check. 

You feel pretty proud of yourself for that, even when he gives your hip a too tight squeeze before digging his nails in and spreading that cheek from the other so he can look at your asshole while you ride him. Pleasurable shockwaves slam through you at the sharp yet short lived sting from his fingers, your head rapidly turning muddled again when his heavy, masculine groans drop another octave. You knew your hole was still wet with spit after his feast, puffy and darkened from all the attention he’d given it, and that knowledge has you shuddering almost as much as his responding moan does. 

You hadn’t thought you’d get off on something like that quite so much but it seemed Scar was rather adept at teaching you things about yourself. It was ridiculous. 

“Ooughn, damn. You really know how to get revenge, Rover. I must admit I’m … ahhn, I’m impressed.” The threadbare quality of his voice, the way it falters and fades out despite his best effort to keep it steady, makes it glaringly obvious as to what effect this was having on him. His excitement was so palpable you think you could probably reach out and touch it if you really wanted to, if you dared. It was foolish, it was stupid, it was just asking for more trouble from him but — 

That temptation ultimately proves far too great and your pulse stutters an eager beat under the skin as you twist to look back at him. Hungrily, you take in the disarray of his hair and the unexpectedly sincere flush that colors his cheekbones, his pinched brows. He suddenly looked more like a helpless, overly sensitive young man in the prime of his life than the heartless maniac Yangyang had made him out to be. Even the impulsive and sporadic side of him you were now accustomed to dealing with was nowhere in sight. Scar was completely at your mercy like this. He either wouldn’t or couldn’t take the upper hand and flip the script on you even though you were quite certain he could if he really wanted to. 

Was this the loyalty he spoke of? Was it the reason he looked at you, only you, as he did, like you were some sort of ideal come to life or a golden idol he would worship until his dying breath? You weren’t sure if there was much of a difference in his mind and even less sure what you thought about that, but it made you feel decidedly powerful. Inflated with the the knowledge that he seemed to hold you in such high esteem. Like you were the physical embodiment of his deliverance. 

Like you could save him. 

Slowing the motion of your hips to a sedate, leisurely crawl, you allow yourself to just barely nudge your pussy against his rock hard cock in favor of focusing your attention on more interesting matters. You feel emboldened unlike ever before as you reach back to lightly touch fingertips to his neck and lightly tease the skin there. Scar groans in response as if it felt indescribably good to be touched like that before tipping his head back to expose the jagged line across his throat. At the same time his pelvis rolls up into you, a needy whimper slipping out of him, and the significance is clear. Despite his pushiness, he was actually rather submissive when you started reciprocating. How fascinating. 

“Nghnn, Rover -!” 

His desperate gasp spurns you on and you reach higher up to thread your fingers through the back of his hair, closing a tight fist at the root. When you tug at it he quietly seethes but acquiesces without so much as a hint of resistance, obediently straightening up until he’s hunched right up against your back. His big, wet eyes immediately zero in on your mouth and, whining softly, he starts to lean in as if to kiss you while his arms snake around your waist, tightly clutching you in his lap. You put a quick stop to it though, yanking his neck back to halt his forward momentum, and the pull on his scalp draws another whimpering moan out of him. It was clear he was right on the edge of release, close to begging for it by the looks of it, but you had something else in mind for him. 

“Open your mouth.” You intone, tugging on that surprisingly soft hair again to make sure he was paying attention. 

Perfectly docile now, Scar’s lips part and stretch wide to show you a pink tongue and pretty white teeth. He’s watching you intently, almost trancelike in the way he stares into your face from only a scant hair's breadth away. It was clear that he was eagerly awaiting your next command and he issues a breathy, keening sound when you deign to grace him with a small smile. 

“Good boy. Now stick out your tongue.” 

This he also does without question, unfurling it from his mouth to pant at the air like, well. A dog. You might have found it pathetic had you not seen him in action before, had you not already gotten a brief glimpse of what he was capable of. Instead it’s resoundingly gratifying, having this powerful man at your mercy and knowing he was completely wrapped around your finger like this. You can hardly contain your own excitement as you lean in close to him. 

And spit into his mouth. Straight towards the back of his throat, and he positively quakes in response when the wad of saliva hits its mark. 

Mismatched eyes rolling skyward, Scar stiffly twitches underneath you as his cock flexes, pressing almost aggressively up into your cunt with a trembling pulse. The distantly vague sensation of something warm and damp makes itself known between your legs in a slow oozing rush that seeps up into you, and your chest practically caves in with the realization that he’d cum. Just like that. And what’s more, it seemed to be a rather powerful orgasm for as little stimulation you’d provided, given the way he roughly shakes through it, his teeth clenched tight and seething. 

It’s over much too fast, far quicker than yours had been, and he practically deflates against you with a haggard, wounded little sound only a short moment later. Slowly, you let up your hold on his hair and he gratefully ducks his face into the crook of your shoulder, letting out a territorial, rumbling growl even as he nuzzles into you. 

“Don’t get comfortable now,” You murmur. Bringing your hands down, you carefully push at his arms where they’re still locked around your middle but of course he doesn’t so much as budge, and you give a soft click of your tongue. “I still haven’t decided if I trust you or not yet. As far as I see it we’re still on opposing sides.” 

He issues a quiet, halfhearted laugh against your skin, his shoulders hunching around your slighter frame. “Ahh, so cruel, even now. Don’t tell me that didn’t earn me even a bit of consideration?” 

You think about that for a brief moment before deciding that the truth couldn’t hurt. Certainly not after everything that just happened between you and him. “You’re cute, Scar. I’ll give you that. But important decisions can’t be made so lightly. There’s more to trusting someone than physical attraction.” 

“I know, I know.” Sighing heavily, he gives you one last affectionate nudge with his nose before sitting up and letting his hold on you loosen, arms falling away to grant you your freedom. It surprises you more than anything else that’s happened out here on this desolate stretch of mountain, which was quite a feat, considering, but you weren’t about to question it. 

Shifting forward, you gingerly push up off him and climb to your feet. You can’t quite stop yourself from peeking over your shoulder though, and a fresh buzz of arousal tears through you at the sight of Scar kneeling there, big dopey eyes staring up at you, while a very noticeable wet stain bleeds into the front of his suit. It was impossible to tell how much of that was actually from him and how much of it was where your messy cunt had settled, but you quickly glance away before curiosity can get the better of you. Once was already more than enough for one night. 

“Are you going to keep following me?” 

“But of course. You are the one we want, after all.” He snickers low under his breath, like his heart wasn’t really in it at the moment. “This may not be what you want to hear, but my interest in you stretches well beyond just a single tryst. I could have you ten, a hundred or even a thousand times and I’d still want you all to myself, little lamb.” 

Frowning, you hesitantly turn to look down at him again. “But why? You still haven’t explained that yet.” 

“Oh, Rover, my darling. Do I really need to explain it? You’re you. That’s more than enough for me.” 

It’s clear you’re not going to get a straight answer out of him, probably never would, and you roll your eyes at him in annoyance. “Alright. I probably should have expected that response, I guess. Is there anything else you need? Thanks to you I need to have another bath and then take care of … wait. Where did that guy go?” 

Humming softly, Scar casually follows your line of sight over to the riverbank. The very unoccupied riverbank where only your small pile of possessions was, thankfully, still sitting right where you’d left them. 

“Hmm, looks like he got away while we were focused on other, far more important things. No need to be concerned though. I don’t think he’ll be volunteering to keep tabs on you again anytime soon.” 

Stomach plummeting into the ground, your hands fly up to clutch your suddenly very hot face. This couldn’t be happening. You’d intended to distract Scar to keep him from killing that unknown man so you could still follow through on your initial plan of questioning him when he woke up but instead he’d distracted you. Dammit! This entire trek out into the wilderness was a complete waste of time and energy, and you were right back where you’d started. Square one with no results to show for it. 

And that was to say absolutely nothing of what he was going to tell his comrades about you and the Fractsidus Overseer. Double damn! 

⭐

Crossposted: here

[stitchthelilo]

WAKE UP GUYS NEW SMG4 EPISODE JUST DROPPED

look at how close they got. (i’m delusional)

also the fact that they can share memories now.. when they clearly didn’t have the experience to before 🤨 (iirc)

more insecurity!! love to see mentally ill 3 who bottles up his emotions and acts like he’s ok :)

this entire scene was sad.. definitely fic material. but! despite the feels really hitting me in the gut (i hate the team for that fuck you) (not actually), it’s an awesome episode overall

loved that it put more of the spotlight on 3 and how he feels about his reputation and what the audience thinks of him, constantly being in the shadow because the truth is.. when he was first made, he really was just a clone. nothing more, and sometimes a lot less

they’re both so mentally ill and it shows. 4 has issues with knowing when to stop working, igbp ofc ofc.. and then 3 feels like he is in 4’s shadow. and that’s only to name one of their issues for each!!

ugh, they have so many issues. i hate these mentally ill gays :/ (not serious i love them)

ANYWAYS AS ANOTHER TUMBLR USER POINTED OUT I’M GLAD MORE OBSERVANT MARIO WAS PRESENT HERE!! OH AND THEY SHOULD 100% MAKE OUT

[befemininenow]

Caption request by @wintercrossdressser: Some people never change.

He started out as your close friend during childhood. Both of you would do challenging dares and whoever lost was a “sissy” for the whole day. You hated losing, yet it constantly happened to you. You hated being called that, but you swore you will avenge yourself one day. Now that both of you met again as adults, he’s as excited seeing you as a girl as you are seeing his good looks. He is quite the womanizer, but his biggest secret is that he’s very into pain. You like being tied up, be grabbed, be taken hard, but he likes something.. much more painful than that. The truth is, he will do anything to please you. It will be so much fun like the old days! He may have beat you in pain, but now you’re glad you’re on the losing side. This time, you won’t be the sissy, but the mistress! Hehehe...

Never thought I would make a caption based on top and bottom, but this was requested. Congrats on your GIF caption, @wintercrossdresser! Unfortunately, it took me a while to brainstorm something new to the blog. I didn’t want to go for the “get taken like a girl” approach, much less use the S word. However, I did have this GIF in my folder from a while back and I thought, why not make something out of it? Then, I recalled how back in the day, “sissy” meant weak, coward, feminine, limp, etc. It felt awful and it still feels like, *language*, shit being called a sissy or a faggot (seriously, whoever uses those words to trans girls without their consent can go fuck themselves!) And yet, I didn’t knew there was a community who embraces and identifies with those terms! I’m still not F’ing with those terms, though. Yet, all of that got me to think something different: old guy friends who enjoyed pain reunite as man and trans woman, fall in love, and want to experience pain in bed. It sounds cringe, but then I applied a nice background story with today’s trends that both may love to experience.

Anyways, this is my last GIF ever and perhaps the only one where it can be seen as a (ugh!) sissy caption! I apologize, @wintercrossdresser, I tried my best to make the story great without using the sissy term, but I hope you enjoyed it. Thank you everyone!

[thebigbiwolf]

Starvin' Darlin - Chapter 2

Pairing: Not quite friends to lovers Astarion x OC/F!Tav

Chapter Summary: Seeing Evelyn with Gale stirs up some unfamiliar and VERY unwelcome feelings in Astarion. And for some reason, she graces him with a midnight visit. I'm terrible with summaries but here's what's in store for you:

* A bit of possessive!Astarion if you squint

* More pining

* More biting

* Deep DEEP emotional constipation (my personal favorite)

Fic Tags: Minor spoilers for Act 1, The Bite Scene, Emotional slow burn, Angst, Teasing, Frottage (god I'm sorry), Pining, This is my first ever fic so idk how to tag things appropriately but you get the gist.

Fic Warnings: Eventual Explicit Smut (18+ MDNI), Language, Canon-Typical Violence, Dubcon (I cannot stress this enough), Bloodlust/Loss of control, Mentions of blood, lmk if you need anything else tagged.

Read on AO3: Here

Word Count: 5k

A/N: School and life have been kicking my ass but I finally got around to finishing this chapter and I couldn't wait to post it! I'm having so much fun writing in Astarion's POV. Huge thank you to my bestie @imaginarydromedary for being the best beta ever and for your endless patience with me.

The morning that follows that fateful night in Evelyn’s tent goes rather well, all things considered.

She approaches Astarion first. A pleasant surprise, considering they could hardly look at each other after he ravaged her the night before. 

He looks over the novel he had been skimming, Shanties for the Bitch Queen . Admittedly, not one of his favorites, but reading material was scarce these days. He closes it with a soft thud and rises to meet her, all pleasant smiles and perfectly coiffed hair. 

“Good morning.” he says, a curious tilt to his head. 

She looks a bit more pale than usual with faded, grim circles forming underneath her eyes. Her bun is a bit unruly, some strands falling into her face and parted by the wine-dark bone of her horns. She either didn’t sleep well or is still reeling from the anemia. 

The bruise he administered had spread and darkened, plainly visible even under the black ink of her tattoos. It seems she found no use in hiding it, then. Very well. It’s not like they keep extra scarves laying about the camp, anyway.

“How do you feel?” he asks, gently. He doesn’t mean to provoke her, but his curiosity is getting the better of him, and the slightest hint of shame is beginning to burrow its way into his conscience. Ugh . He thinks he prefers the tadpole.

“A bit woozy.” She responds, “I woke up this morning with the intention of asking you how one usually fares after being drained, but then I remembered,” she stops herself when she realizes what she’s about to say: I was your first. Unspoken, but lingering between them . It makes him want to laugh; A woman with a reputation such as hers acting so bashful .

“It’ll pass,” he reassures, “Just be glad I’m not a true vampire. A bite from one of them and you might wake up as a vampire spawn, like my good self. All of a vampire’s hunger, but few of their powers.”

“Speaking of hunger,” Evelyn says, realizing she’s famished. She turns from him and begins making her way towards the campfire. Finding that only charred logs and old cinders remain, she runs the black tip of her boot through the ashes with the intention of stoking the fire back to life, dust clouding, then dispersing before her.

He follows closely behind, observing. She seems well, all things considered. A bit out of sorts, but nothing a bit of rest couldn’t cure.

“You know, I had considered bringing you an apple,” Astarion starts, hovering by the pit, “Leaving it by your bedside before you rose for the day - ever the gentleman, but,” he clears his throat. 

That newly recognizable twinge of something is curling its way back into his chest, causing him to squint in discomfort. 

In truth, he didn’t know how she would react to him encroaching on her space. Not after that dreadful attempt on her life. He is a monster, after all. That, and she had already been so insufferably forgiving. Such kindness is likely to reach its end sooner rather than later.

“I - erm, didn’t want to disturb your rest.” is what he finally settles on. Polit , he thinks, Best not overdo it.

“That would have been nice of you.” She says it quietly, more to herself than to him.

“Oh, darling, you have no idea how nice I can be.” The flirtation sneaks its way out of him on an impulse. He’s about to apologize, something he seems to be doing a bit too often for his taste, when out of the corner of his eye, he catches one of their companions making their way towards them. 

“It appears we have company.” Astarion sneers, “And here I thought I was going to have you all to myself this morning.”

To the elf’s surprise, most of them were quick to come around to the idea of a vampire spawn slinking about. Especially once they found themselves in the middle of an ambush, and Astarion very quickly made good on his promises to her. 

Newfound strength coursed through his body, her blood weaving threads of heat through his veins as if it were his own. His speed was unmatched, cutting down half a dozen goblins before they had a chance to wail.

 It was exhilarating . 

The day flew by in flashes of red. Despite the many unnecessary stops Evelyn insisted on making to help undesirables, Astarion’s emotional high managed to remain relatively intact. That was, until their group settled in for the night.

As most of the others retired to their tents, the elf prepared for his nightly ritual: sifting through his collection of tomes and selecting one to read under the stars - his favorite way to end the evening. 

It was supposed to be perfect. Uneventful. Quiet .

But, there was Gale: lost in thought and muttering to himself, or maybe to the conjured image of some woman’s head floating above his hand. Astarion may have been able to ignore that in itself, but the sound of light footsteps drew his attention. 

Evelyn was approaching the wizard. 

He scoffs. Of course Gale was showing off in hopes of procuring her attention. The man was practically putting on a damn light show in his desperation. It’s not enough that the wizard eats valuable items they could be using to pawn for coins, but does he really have to be such an unbearable distraction as well?

“Pretty,” he recognizes the word as it leaves her. The sound of their chatter was too faint for it to carry its way to his beautifully pointed ears, but he could just barely read Evelyn’s lips at this angle.

Gale startles, dropping his hand along with his focus. The woman’s visage vanishes. He looks embarrassed, shifting uncomfortably as he no doubt explains himself in some horribly mundane fashion.

Astarion returns to his book, scanning over the page, but the words refuse to settle in his mind. He stares at the ink, willing the sentences to fill his head with anything other than the nonsense unfolding in front of him, but his focus stubbornly remains on the chattering pair.

Gods, he’s talking her ears off. 

At any moment, Evelyn will dismiss the man, embarrassing the hells out of him, which will make for an excellent show. That in itself is enough reason to keep watching. But the longer this goes on, the less he’s sure. 

She seems to be enjoying their chat, nodding in agreement at Gale’s words, listening to him without so much as a hint of impatience. Gale then steps behind her, a bit too close for the likes of an average, friendly conversation. His chest almost touches the woman’s shoulder as he moves into her space, the cloth of his nightshirt just barely grazing her. 

Something within Astarion begins twisting in protest. His thumb runs over the long-forgotten page in circles. The rough texture reminds him that yes, he was supposed to be reading, or at least attempting to look disinterested, but he can't will himself to turn away.

Gale smiles softly down at her, then begins to move his arms in a way that could only be described as a poor imitation of a wounded bird. Purple light emanates in front of the two of them in response. More magic tricks. Of course. As if that would be enough to impress the woman who’s supposedly been at the receiving end of every imaginable courting attempt in Faerun. 

Astarion rolls his eyes, content to continue his chapter of The Realm According to Bumpo, before he notices Evelyn following suit, imitating the very same motions. She, however, has a grace about her, unlike the bearded beast at her side. Her movements are quick and decisive, abandoning all flattery for precision. The burst of light emanates from her palms, just as it had for the wizard.

She looks pleased. Elated, even. This is the first time he’s seen her smile since she made a fool out of him in her tent, caressing his body and reveling in its reaction, like he was some sort of toy. Though her expression looks different to him now. He can’t quite place his finger on why.

He swallows, attempting to alleviate the tightness in his throat. 

A purple aura starts radiating around them, dancing and swaying in waves, as if the two were surrounded by a flowing channel of lavender, smelling of rosewater; the sun setting over a dark ocean. Even from a distance, the sight pulls at something inside him. An unwelcome ache settles within his chest.

Evelyn turns to the man next to her, unaware that they’ve been drawn closer by the magic enveloping them. She tilts her head back to meet Gale’s gaze. The way he’s looking at her, the flecks of gold in her irises locked with his: deep, brown, and moving, makes Astarion’s skin itch.  

He finds himself wondering what color his own eyes were before his transformation. Were they so seemingly honest, so trustworthy in their melanism, before they became what they are now? Sharp, red, and tinted by bloodlust. Wouldn’t they be boring? 

“You’re staring.”

He’s pulled from his brooding by the sound of Shadowheart’s observation. He hadn’t noticed her approaching him, distracted by that sickening, sweet smell. “Or has the tadpole gifted you with the ability to telepathically commune with books?”

“I’m simply admiring our wizard’s talents.” Astarion says, dismissing her with a wave, “Making sure all those expensive boots and rings haven’t gone to waste. It would be a pity, wouldn’t it? Unnecessarily sacrificing clothes that may have suited you while you’re having to traipse about in a tin can?”

The cleric snickers, “I see. Is that why you look like a kicked pup? Or, are you upset that your master’s replaced you with a new lapdog?” 

He slams the book closed. The sound surprises Evelyn, and the magic surrounding her and Gale dissipates. 

He doesn’t dignify Shadowheart with a response, nor does he spare a second glance at the others before retreating to the quiet solace of his tent.

”That wretched little…” He grumbles to himself as soon as he closes the entrance, tossing Bumpo atop the other novels in his collection, all piled haphazardly on the small desk occupying a corner of his living space. 

This type of reaction was unusual for him. Astarion would normally be happy to engage in petty banter. The more scathing, the better, but Shadowheart had somehow weaseled her way into a tender area. It left him feeling exposed, and a bit nauseated at the idea of allowing someone so clearly beneath himself, at least in terms of wit, to get the better of him. 

Taking a deep breath, Astarion focuses on releasing the tension in his jaw. Best not to let this ruin his entire night, he reasons, before lighting  several half-melted candles littering his quarters. Their flames emanate a soft, golden glow, and the process is meditative enough to finish soothing him. 

He doesn’t have watch tonight, so he allows himself some extra comfort, removing his shirt before sinking down into the soft furs of his bedroll. Astarion closes his eyes to trance, thinking the extra rest will do him some good, but the image of Evelyn rushes back to his mind -  the way her soft lips parted in surprise, realizing her and Gale’s close proximity, and how his gaze flitted down to her mouth in return..

The wizard should be wearing a damn collar around his neck with how she commands his attention. It’s pathetic.

It couldn’t be a matter of coincidence, surely. She must know the effect she has on the man. If Gale harbors feelings for her ( yuck ), even if it were the result of close quarters, Evelyn could use it to her advantage. She had just revealed the effectiveness of similar tactics to him last night, and a powerful wizard would be a powerful ally. 

Whereas, Astarion is just… a vampire spawn. Not even a true vampire. A slave. A nobody.

He rubs his face in frustration. The Sharran did have a point. Astarion may have an insatiable appetite, happy to receive all matters of attention from whatever suitors decide to shower him with it, but what about her? What if Evelyn found him less interesting, less worthy of her time and, subsequently, her protection? 

No. His ego balks at the suggestion. 

Besides, he had felt her lust for him not 24 hours ago. It moved through him as though it was his own, and the taste of her still lingers on his tongue. He heard the hitch in her breath - felt it under his own lips, and reliving the memory still stirs a familiar hunger within him. 

Though, they still haven’t spoken about it. 

The usually quiet, insecure part of him wonders if she’d just rather forget it altogether. He could empathize with that, at least. It’s easy enough for him to imagine their last encounter may have left her feeling disgusted, used.

Guilt worms its way back into his mind, cozying up right next to his tadpole but oh, so much worse . 

He hasn’t felt like this since the beginning of his servitude. He assumed the emotion had been neglected long enough to be left entirely behind him, overshadowed by the threat of whatever new, interesting ways Cazador would think of to torture him at the mere suggestion of disobedience. But here, in the thin veil of safety he’s allowed himself to believe shrouds him, he aches. 

It’s unbecoming.

Instead of resting as he should, Astarion isn’t quite sure how much time he spends ruminating on ways to quietly rid the party of Gale, before he hears the faintest rapping at the canvas of his tent. 

At first, he believes he imagined it, and gives the noise little consideration before settling back into his trance. But then, he hears it again: quick, rapid tapping. A knock. 

It surprises him. He hurriedly moves to stand. In the faint glow of the candlelight, the shadow at his doorstep dances against the closed fabric, smaller than himself and horned. A visit from Evelyn at this hour? Strange.

He undoes the ties and opens his space to her. 

Her hair is undone, dark waves falling over her shoulders and obscuring the marks he gave her. She’s wearing the same clothes she wore to bed last night, the very same black breast band. It smells as if it's been washed, though, with no lingering scent of her blood. Her loose, matching trousers settle high on her waist, just above her navel. She looks exhausted. 

Being run ragged by the events of the day while also having to contend with a missing pint or two of blood may have had more of a negative effect than anticipated. 

Evelyn doesn’t say anything at first, but he catches her eyes glancing at his bare chest before retreating back to his own, cementing themselves there. He raises an eyebrow at her, smirking, and thinks about teasing her. The temptation threatens to get the better of him, but he refrains, not wanting this unexpected visit cut too short. “Need something?”

“I was hoping we could talk.”

Her stare is unwavering, a commitment worthy of admiration.

“Right this way.” Astarion bows slightly towards her, an arm raised behind him to gesture her inside. She steps past him, careful to not brush against his exposed skin. He closes the entrance behind them, shutting out the ambient noise and drowning them in silence. His space is large enough to accommodate himself and his essentials quite comfortably, but it's infinitely smaller with her here.

“I hope I didn’t disturb you.” there is a hoarseness to her voice. She must have woken up just before making her way over.

“No, actually. I was just catching up on some reading.” Not entirely a lie. He had been reading at several points tonight. “What is it you want to discuss? I’m assuming there’s a reason this couldn’t wait until morning, not that I mind.”

“It's about you.”

Oh. No midnight gossip, then.

"I’ve been thinking about how we’re going to continue feeding you.”

“You’ve been up all night tossing and turning because you're concerned about my eating habits?” he responds, unamused, and crosses his arms.

“I have not been tossing and -” she’s about to argue with him, he thinks, but her exasperation causes her to lose her concentration. She breaks eye contact, distracted by the toned curves of his biceps, then snaps her gaze to the floor. “Would you please put on a shirt?”

“Ha!” His laugh is humorless. “I’d like to think we’re well past the point of propriety. Besides, you're in my tent.”

Evelyn pinches the bridge of her nose. “I knew this was a mistake.”

“Come now, darling. Why are you really here?”

She sighs in frustration, as if he should already know.

“I wanted to talk about last night.”

“Ugh, I’ve already apologized. What more do you want?”

A moment passes in uncomfortable silence. He can practically hear the gears grinding in her head as she searches for the right words, and he'd give anything to reach out with his tadpole and take the unfiltered thoughts from her mind. Instead, he takes pity on her.

“Unless, you’re looking for another nibble?” 

It's a joke, a way to clear the tension from the air. Entirely unserious.

She doesn't laugh.

Instead, she looks around the room: first at his assortment of decorative pillows, then to the empty elixir bottles piled in a corner, anywhere but himself. "Well, I - I don’t know.”  She clears her throat. “I just figured after today’s performance, it may be for the best.”

Wait. What?

He stiffens, so taken aback by her suggestion that the elf almost believes he’s still mid-trance. 

“What?” 

“I may be willing to help you again, when necessary.”

She has to be joking.

“You’re joking.”

“No. I’m serious, if it would help.”

“It would.”

“Then, yes.”

They stand almost toe to toe, Astarion once again absorbing her warmth. He hadn’t noticed their height difference the first time they did this, too busy devouring the poor woman like some deranged beast, but it's notable here, on equal footing. Peering up at him, her nose aligns with his collarbones.

"Tonight, then?" she asks.

"Eager, are we?"

She shrugs with indifference, "Just in case we run into any trouble at the goblin camp tomorrow."

The very picture of practicality. What else did he expect?

"Alright, then."

"Alright."

That nagging sensation begins to tug at him again - the very same one he felt as he had stepped out of her tent last night. A weak but unshakeable tension, like a magnet, uncomfortable as it is alluring. The force of it draws his body closer to hers where she stands, hands clenched into fists at her sides.

Underneath her calm exterior, Evelyn’s heart is pounding. Though her breaths are steady, controlled, he can hear it from where he stands. For a moment, those are the only sounds filling the space between them, until the tiefling speaks up.

“You’re tall, for an elf.”

An oddly-timed observation, but a true one. His brother, Petras, was always outwardly envious of him for it. Though, he's not sure why it sounds so flattering coming from her lips.

“How kind of you to notice.” 

She scans the room, searching for something, until she spots the table. Her fingers run along the dark ringlets in the wood, tracing the hardened puddles of forgotten wax, until they reach his heaping pile of books. She taps her fingertips on his leather bound copy of Bumpo . 

“May I?” 

He nods, unsure of what’s been asked of him. 

Evelyn gathers the novels in her arms before piling them carefully onto the floor in a few leveled stacks, clearing the space. ”That should be enough room for one of us to sit,” she says, evenly. 

Then, there is a heavy silence; anticipation. It hangs in the air thick as smoke, twice as suffocating. She's only taken a few steps from him, but it’s as though she’s crossed an ocean. The distance between them begins to develop its own gravitational pull, making the hairs on his arms stand on end.

“Whatever’s most comfortable, dear."

The tiefling nods, then plants herself on the table’s surface, legs hanging over the edge. Evelyn is now eye-level with him, her irises glossy; catching and reflecting what little light dances off the few remaining candles beside her.

She tilts her head at him, expectantly. Her face remains neutral - practiced, as though she feels nothing at all; as if she isn’t trying to drive him mad.

She’s back to playing her little games.

Fine.

Astarion’s posture straightens as he strides towards her, confidently closing their distance. He places his hands at her sides, not quite touching her, but still close enough to feel the heat emanating from her body, even through her clothes.  

“Now, where would you like it?” The question sounds innocent enough, but the double meaning is not lost on her. 

Her grip tightens at the table’s edge, knuckles whitening. 

His head tilts downwards, looming over her like a predator, and the scent of vanilla invades his nostrils. The sweetness settles on his palate before spreading across his tongue, coating it with a rum-like burn. He runs the flavor over the sharp edges of his teeth.

"I could do it here," he whispers, dipping his nose and running the tip of it along her nape. He quietly revels in how she prickles beneath him, her body betraying her feigned indifference.

"Or, here." One of his thumbs trace the flat of her wrist in slow, circular motions, causing the pulse beneath it to flutter.

"Or…" His other hand slides atop her knee, fingers gripping and parting her thighs just slightly…

She snaps them shut.

"Just do it, dickhead."

He hums a laugh. 

“As you wish.” 

The cool brush of Astarion’s lips on her neck has Evelyn’s heart racing, a frantic drum beating against his ears. It’s just as intoxicating as he remembers, threatening to muddle the edges of his mind. “Just try to keep still for me.” he whispers.

The warning is sincere, but the stubborn woman misinterprets him. Thinking he’s toying with her, she opens her mouth, intent on insulting him, but stops short, whining pitifully when his fangs break the surface of her skin. Her body flinches at the initial discomfort, but otherwise remains virtually motionless; compliant.

Drinking from her now feels like an entirely new experience. This time, he anticipates the raging current - knows how to find his footing. Rather than being ripped under, it feels as though Astarion is floating, enveloped in warmth unlike any he’s ever known. At best, he would imagine it similar to a hug, had he ever been on the receiving end of one.

He begins to lap at the wound to keep it from closing, the press and drag of his tongue drawing out a few small, involuntary twitches from the girl. She’s being so good for him, staying put like she’d been told; fighting her own restlessness, the urge to squirm in place.

If only she would allow him to reward her, to offer his body in exchange for this endless parade of favors, he would take the chance in a heartbeat. It would be so, so easy with her, unlike any miserable encounter he’d been forced into partaking in the last few centuries. He knows he would enjoy her body, along with all the lovely little sounds she would make for him; the temporary bliss.

And it would be a fair price to pay for keeping him safe, fed, and warm . 

The mental image has Astarion’s hand moving without his knowledge, too engrossed to notice his own palm caressing the side of her face. His thumb traces the edge of her cheek as he holds her there, allowing the weight of her head to rest against his fingers. Dark strands of hair brush against his knuckles, bringing him back to the present.

He thinks Evelyn hasn’t noticed yet, believes himself safe to correct the mistake without any mutual discomfort.

Which leaves him infinitely more overwhelmed when her smaller hand grazes up the length of his arm, wrapping it around his wrist to keep it in place. Her body relaxes into his touch, seemingly more grounded. 

The intimacy is like a punch to the chest.

She’s suddenly too close for comfort. It’s claustrophobic - suffocating, strangling him along with whatever sense he had left, apparently. That damned vanilla, the dizzying scent of her blood -

Air, he thinks, I just need some fresh air.

Astarion pulls away from her, readying an apology and an excuse to swiftly dismiss the woman. 

But when Evelyn meets his gaze, the words die prematurely.  

She is a vision , freckles dappling her skin like star-covered porcelain, now flushed red from nose to cheeks. The whites of her eyes have gone glossy, dazed and dream-like, tempting him further into her space.

Her tongue darts out to wet her parted lips, the small gesture commanding his attention. He finds himself entirely fixated on them, as if it would take another life-altering, unnatural disaster to pull his focus away. 

Evelyn’s lashes flutter in recognition, then she quickly releases his wrist. The residual heat fades before he can appreciate it, leaving him cold once again. 

“Oh, sorry.” 

“My apologies."

Their speech overlaps, then silence fills the room again, and they are left to stare at each other. His hands suddenly feel much too idle at his sides, itching. He throws on a polite smile, a familiar mask, but the expression doesn't quite reach his eyes.

Astarion has never been one to look a gift horse in the mouth. His hunger is sated, and he should feel satisfied. He should feel like a new man. 

So why, then, does he only feel this intolerable weight in his chest?

Why does his stomach turn at the idea of her so carelessly offering herself up to any vampire spawn, let alone himself , despite the obvious danger? 

Why is he so deeply frustrated by her lack of self preservation?

Isn’t this exactly what he wanted; to have her crawling back for more?

He can't help but wonder if this sudden apprehension is part of her little plan: to confuse him, drive him to distraction, then bring him to his knees like every other unfortunate man she’s had in her sights before robbing them and tossing them aside.

Out-seducing a vampire would admittedly be an admirable feat, but why? What could her angle be, when Astarion has nothing to offer her? 

“Are you alright? You look… lost.” 

He blinks back to the present. 

“I - ” He coughs, " Ahem . Yes, dear. Of course.” 

Hot, crimson streaks drip down the sharp bone of his chin. He springs into action, away from her unfavorable concern, and grabs his nightshirt from off the floor behind him. He has just the one, beautifully embroidered and sewn back together countless times by his own hands, now being used in place of a common napkin. 

Evelyn gasps. The sound is like ice, piercing his chest when he realizes his mistake. The devil’s never seen him without a shirt on before now. Meaning, she had never bore witness to the elaborate poem carved into his back - ugly, raised scars painting his flesh and soiling his otherwise perfectly sculpted muscle. 

He regrets not humoring her request to redress earlier. 

The elf plays off the noise as if he hadn’t heard it, turning to hand her the clothes and hoping she knows better than to mention anything of it. She silently takes the garment from him and places it where he had bitten her. A blooming red stain soaks into the pale fabric. He’ll have to work on getting it out for the next several days, if it decides to come out at all.

Evelyn finally moves to stand, teetering a bit from lightheadedness. Astarion reaches out to steady her, but she shakes her head, declining. 

“I’m okay.”

He retracts his hand. The damned thing’s gotten him into enough trouble tonight already. 

“Well then, you should get some rest.” 

She scoffs, “Wow, not even a thank you?”

He lowers his voice, practically growling at her, “My dear, if you’d allow me to properly thank you, you wouldn’t be leaving this tent. Maybe not for the next week, if I’m feeling generous.”

A pretty little flush once again spreads across her face. He’s rather pleased with himself, thinking he’s finally stunned her. 

“And if you weren’t feeling generous?”

Rising to meet him, then. She is playing a very dangerous game.

Astarion closes what little distance there is left between them and grabs her face by the jaw, grip firm . The force has her stumbling, the back of her thighs meeting the hard edge of the table. Wood digs into her skin as the legs grate loudly against his decorative rugs, shifting from the sudden push.

Evelyn’s eyes shut, brows furrowed and panting as she clutches his forearms to steady herself.

To his wicked delight, she does not pull away.

His thumb drags over her bottom lip. The effort she’s expending not to whine at his gentle touch has him reeling. Her skin burns beneath his palms. 

“Then, I’d strip you, tie your limbs to this desk,” he murmurs against her lips, before tilting to whisper his confession hot in her ear. 

“And you wouldn’t be leaving this tent. Ever . ”

He abruptly releases her, turning away and waving her off. 

“Now, go. We have a big day tomorrow.”

Not sparing the woman a glance, he begins gathering his books and setting them back onto the table beside her.

She says nothing in response, but he hears her tear open the entrance to his tent and step out into the night.

[lunarspiral1127]

X-Men 97 episode 5 *SPOILERS*

The interviews

The reporter seemed nice and doesn't act like a typical controversial one. And, seeing Beast blush was adorable. But, Scott's interview was a doozy. What he said when he lashed out, well....he ain't wrong. I just thought Magneto would be the one to say those things, not Scott. Still, not wrong.

Jean/Scott/Madelyn/Logan drama

UGH! I hate love triangles that bring out so much stress and drama. And, I'm worried that Jean and Scott will break up because of the crap Mr. Sinister pulled. I wasn't expecting Jean to kiss Logan, and it was HIM who told her to go talk to Scott. Despite his feelings, he's still trying to be respectful to their relationship. But, seriously, Jean, why did you kiss him?!

Then apparently, Scott and Madelyn were checking up on each other telepathically, which I get why Jean would be mad at that. But, Madelyn during her time at the mansion WAS Jean and Scott thought that was her! They're the same! At least they were? Then again, they're in contact for a month and Jean kissed Logan once....UGH! I hate this drama. SINISTER THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT!!!

Genosha

Beautiful. It was a paradise for mutants. They deserve this. The gala looked pretty, I liked the statues of Charles and Magneto, I was not expecting the Hellfire Club to be a part of this council cause I don't trust them (especially the crap they pulled in the previous show). Lots of cameos from other characters that I couldn't keep track on, but the place was lovely. It's a shame though on what happened later on....

Nightcrawler

This lovely, precious German Christian man. 🥰 I love Nightcrawler and I'm glad to see him in this show. The original voice actor who played him in the previous show still does a great job voicing him. And, he approves of Gambit and Rogue (adopted sister) being together, so that's extra bonus points. He got a new look compared to his previous one, but I still like it. Then when the massacre happened, I was so worried that he was gonna die. Thank goodness he survived, but I hate seeing him so hurt.

Gambit/Rogue/Magneto drama

I hate this love triangle SO MUCH! We get an explanation on how Rogue and Magneto got together, and I'm questioning how old she was when they first met and whether Magneto was influencing her in a bad way. Either way, still don't like this ship. Even when them dancing looked good animated, I STILL don't like it. Plus, it still doesn't make sense cause they've been against each other in the previous show, where there was no signs of the two having that past relationship.

Anyway, I'm glad Rogue finally told Gambit the truth, and I feel so bad for him. But, he knew what she wanted and how much it hurt, even going as far as to distance himself, which he showed a lot of emotional maturity, so respect to that. But, that thing where he'll lead Genosha if Rogue stays as his "queen"? DA FUQ?! Look, I like Magneto, but I did not like that. Still wish Rogue could've gotten one of those collars to nullify her powers so that she can touch Gambit. Would've solved a lot of drama, just saying.

I was SO relieved though, that Rogue said that he was right, and rejected Magneto, but I wish she could've done that without kissing him right where Gambit can see it. Either way, it seemed like she'll choose Gambit and not stay with Magneto in Genosha, THANK GOD!

So, you think this would be the end of that love triangle right? Well, yes and no? Cause what happened afterwards hurt like hell.

Genosha Massacre

So, a giant Master Mold thing showed up, killing mutants and destroying Genosha. It was cool seeing Cable again trying to stop it and seeing his mom after so long, which is a glimmer of hope but I'll get to that later. So, many people died. Sebastian Shaw, Calypso, Banshee, Marrow, pretty sure that was Dazzler or Moira not sure, and three more that hurt me so much.

Magneto. Okay, I may not like that love triangle, but I didn't hate the guy. Dude was fighting that Sentinel with a train as a whip, that was pretty cool. And, he tried to protect the Molocks. He tried to protect Leech! He got Rogue and Gambit out of the way. What hurt the most was he told Leech not to be afraid IN GERMAN! Again, didn't want him to die. Although, I wished he could've used his magnetism to push the Molocks away like he did with Rogue and Gambit, but nope. They all died!

Leech. Precious innocent Leech. He was just a kid, man! And, he got to hang out with other mutants his age. He was making friends. Only for this to happen. And, not a lot of people talk about Leech and what happened to him. But, I liked him, and that hurt.

And, finally, the one that hurt the most.....Gambit.....Remy.

He went out like a hero. He sacrificed himself to destroy that Sentinel from killing even more mutants. "The name's Gambit, mon ami. Remember it." Well, now we know why this episode is called Remember It, cause it was Gambit's last words. And, if that wasn't enough, Rogue holding onto him, crying over his body, finally able to touch him....only to not feel him.

THAT. FREAKING. HURT. SO. BAD!!! 😭 Gambit was one of my favorite X-Men characters, and I legit was crying seeing that end. It really hurt to see that happen to him, but at least he went out saving people. However! There is that slight glimmer of hope! Cable. He tried to go back to stop this, who's to say he won't try again? Time travel shenanigans will happen and he can team up with Bishop and the rest of the X-Men to prevent this from happening. It happened many times before, it can happen here. And, maybe, just maybe, Gambit, Leech, Magneto, and all those people won't have to die. This may the denial talking, but I'll be so pissed if Gambit's dead and he Rogue won't be together for good anymore, cause that would be bullcrap.

God, how am I gonna be okay when we're getting Storm and Forge vs. The Adversary next week?! And, jeez, if things keep up like this, Storm is gonna return to the whole mansion on fire. I can't imagine what her and everyone's reactions are gonna be when they find out about Gambit and even Magneto.

Anyway, good episode. Much better than last week's. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm gonna go find a way to cope from all of that.

[the-haunted-office]

"I wasn't wrong, was I?"

Girl, it's been seven months. Seven months and he still wants to pin all that on you and you alone? When he knows better than that? I'm sorry, but you can't convince me that he didn't know.

"I don't know, Ollie. He sure acted like he didn't."

Yeah, he acted like it because that guy is too stupid to figure out anything on his own.

"Ollie!"

What? It's the truth. He needs everything spelled out for him. Guy can't choose which doorway to walk through without someone telling him.

"That's not his fault. And you know that."

What, you're gonna make excuses for him now? After ripping his head off? Personally I think you did him a favor. Gave him an upgrade, anyway.

"Ugh, you know what. This isn't really helping."

Look. I'm sorry, Thursday. I'm not meaning to upset you. I apologize. I just can't stand when you let them upset you like that. You let them do it to you in my timeline too, only you were better at hiding it there, I think. And no, don't say anything, let me finish talking, please.

"Typing."

TYPING. Shut up. You know what I meant. Anyway, all I'm saying is, this isn't your fault, okay? And if you want to think that it is, then only accept the parts that are your fault, which isn't all of it. If Stanley wants to skulk around kicking at rocks, then let him. Jackass is gonna stub his toe one of these days and then he'll have no one to blame but himself.

"...Right. Yeah. You're right. He's just- He's not even my Stanley, right, so what's it matter? Maybe I was just- just trying so hard to make things work out between us because... because I just really miss my Stanley."

...Yeah. I get you. I miss my Thursday. But hey. We're friends. We've got each other. I'm glad for that. I'm sorry about your Stanley, Thursday.

"Yeah. I'm sorry about your Thursday, Ollie."

[steam-beasts]

Snowy Sea Rescue!

Most of the time, Brendam Docks was quite busy with many dockmen shouting out orders, cargo being lifted and loaded on to ships to and fro, trucks being shunted by Salty as he bantered on with Cranky or even Carly like usual.

But in winter, it was significantly more busy than ever with the Christmas rush, so there are fragile and brittle gifts being held in multiple boxes that are carried out to sea.

Salty's driver's wife had presents which were amongst many gifts that arrived by boat to the docks, and his driver was eagerly anticipating its arrival until today...

____________________________________________

"Fourth cargo ship coming up! Get ready lads... and lass!" The Dock manager called out.

The three dock cranes were hard at work, unloading multiple crates of different gifts on to flatbeds. Salty was also hard at work, shunting as many flatbeds as possible to the right places.

Carly groaned "ANOTHER one?! That's the eighth one today!"

"It's the Christmas rush, Carly. It's a normal thing around 'ere..." Cranky creaked "Anyway, why are YOU complaining? Haven't you ever had a Christmas rush back in Southampton?"

Carly sighed "Yes, but...ugh, I never had to multitask unloading FOUR boats at once! Even a couple years back, it wasn't THIS intense!" She panted, sliding over to another boat. Down on the rails, Salty cackled at the portal crane's groaning "Hahar, sounds like ye are a wee bit rusty in the joints, lassie!" He said.

Big Mickey chuckled quietly "Trust me, you two. Be glad we aren't at Tidmouth Harbour. Over there's probably twice as busy compared to here, since it's the biggest harbour on the island!"

"Couldn't 'ave spoken truer words, me hearty. We'd ALL be tired out if we worked thar. Har....though, t' be truthful, it be takin' it's toll on me as well" Salty admitted a sigh, the work had been a bit straining with Porter away for his big sleep. Cranky and Carly exchanged nervous wide-eyed glances before silently going back to work. They couldn't bear the thought of being at Tidmouth.

Salty's driver poked his head and looked over at one of the ships "Oi, mate! Are there any red crates over there?" He yelled. One of the dockmen securing the crates looked back "Nah, can't say there are any. What about it, pal?"

"It's for me wife!" The driver yelled. Salty's interest peaked when he heard that "Did ye get a present for yer wife, driver?"

His driver smiled "Yep, four rather large ones to be precise. M' hopin' she'll like 'em"

"Oh I'm sure she will" the Dockside diesel chuckled. Just then, a chilly breeze swept through the docks, causing Salty to shiver, his frame rattling. Salty's driver exclaimed and kept a tight grip on the handles "Woah, ol' boy! Easy!"

Salty grunted "I get cold, driver. We diesels don't 'ave fur like the steamies!"

The diesel driver sighed and patted Salty's cab "I know, it's not really your fault. It's the winter! Everythin' around you gets as cold as ice, even the sea!"

Carly shuddered "Couldn't have said it better, Chuck! I took a dip in the water to find fish this morning, and it was freezing! My fins felt really numb and sore!" She said, flapping one of her fins "My operator had to hand-feed me fish"

Everyone murmured in agreement, including the Dock manager who was there to listen. The manager then walked over to Salty's driver with a schedule board "Alright, your crate should be here very soon"

"Hmph! It was supposed to be here yesterday!"

"Sorry. Bad sea conditions were causing the delay, I'm afraid" he shrugged before turning heel and leaving. The driver groaned, shaking his head "This damn weather" He muttered under his breath.

Salty let out a small dog-like whine at hearing his driver's dismay. Christmas Eve would be coming soon, so it made sense why the man was grumpy about it "Don't worry, driver. It will be here soon..."

___________________________________________________________

It was around 2:00 when the workload had thankfully died down, there were less ships coming in to the docks, and Salty had significantly less flatbeds to shunt. So, the cranes were able to get longer breaks and so did Salty, which was a relief! Working was ok, but admittedly a bit harder being one shunting engine short. But other than that, at least they could rest.

However, the peace and quiet was disrupted by a loud ear-splitting BANG!

Salty's whole body arched upwards like a frightened cat, and he even shrieked like one. Cranky, Carly and Big Mickey all nearly screamed at the loud noise, their poor sensitive ears!

"Flare spotted!" Big Mickey's operator yelled, pointing out into the ocean. Everyone immediately looked to where he pointed, and they all gasped in horror – it was a sinking cargo barge, and its crew were waving frantically for help and shouting.

"They're sinking!! Call the bloomin' Search & Rescue centre! Anyone!" The Dock manager barked from his megaphone. A workman spoke up "We can't! It'll be half an hour until they get 'ere in THIS weather! Those men will be down under by that time!"

The Dock manager was silent for a moment before looking up at the cranes "Do you think one of you three could get over there?"

"We would, chuck! But we're all sensitive to icy water! I got all numb and sore from a swim this morning! I was only in for a few seconds too!"

"Well, we need to get those men out of there somehow !"

Everyone murmured uncontrollably, no one knew what to do...except Salty.

Salty hummed thoughtfully to himself "Hmm...it be dangerous" He thought. Even if it was dangerous, SOMEONE has to risk it! Those crew members' lives were on the line. That's it. He MUST do something.

Salty's driver was on the diesel's footplate, nervously squeezing his handle bars when Salty suddenly jerked him off "Wha–?! Salty!" He exclaimed, landing on the ground with an oof.

Everyone watched with surprise as Salty jumped off the rails and went into his beast form. The monster diesel snarled and darted towards the ocean before jumping off the edge with a big SPLASH!

"Salty?!" Cranky and the diesel's driver gasped, the cranes spinned around to see him swimming towards the sinking boat. Salty wheezed and shivered as he paddled through the water, he was going to save those men no matter what!

His three pairs of limbs ached and clawed at the water, his finned tail giving him a boost. The crew on the sinking barge noticed the engine swimming towards them and all cheered and waved for his attention. Salty grunted and growled, trying to shake off the exhaustion as he reached the barge and its crew.

"Climb aboard, mateys!" He shouted hoarsely, the cold water had seeped into his vents. The crew didn't need to be told twice! They all crawled on top of Salty and held on tight as he bobbed about. Once he made sure everyone was one, Salty was about to leave until something caught his eye – something red.

It was the red crate his driver spoke about, floating on a single, small wooden platform. Conveniently, it was right next to him. Salty's eyes widened and without word, he quickly pulled it towards his buffers and pushed it along as he paddled towards the harbour.

Everyone from the docks watched in amazement as the diesel shunter rescued the whole crew "Salty's doing it!" Big Mickey cheered, and everyone followed suit. Salty's driver smiled "Go on, ol' boy". Despite how things looked from their perspective Salty panted tiredly, his body was numb and aching from all the paddling and the workers' small, but added weight along with pushing the crate was not helping.

Finally, the dockside diesel reached the harbour and found a ladder for the crew to climb. As soon as they all got off, Salty was wheezing and straining his breath, the cold was NOT good for him. Black spots were clouding his vision, along with a mild dizzy sensation, the struggle to breathe properly worsened from the water getting through his vents. It was then he soon realised it – this may be the end.

But he didn't fret, he instead smiled and chuckled wearily "Well, at least I did somethin' brave afore I go... har"" then in a flash, everything went black. The muffled yells from above silenced, and everything went numb...

He hoped everyone was safe.

____________________________________________

The darkness seemed it would go on forever. The silence was nearly deafening. But Salty wasn't afraid.

"Do...do you think he'll wake up, Sir?" Someone piped up. They sounded worried

"I can't say for certain, I'm afraid. We'll just have to wait" someone sighed. They sounded a little anxious, but they were also trying to remain calm.

The darkness then got brighter, big and small blobs taking form. Salty winced and watched as the smallest blobs were shuffling about, their shapes soon gathering more detail as the minutes went on.

"Wait...I think he's waking up..!" One voice exclaimed.

"Thank the lord for that..." another sighed, sounding relieved.

"Well? Step back, all of you! Give Salty some space!" The same voice from before boomed. Finally, Salty's vision fully returned, he could finally see where he was;

Salty was in the Dieselworks! A dim light shine over him. Surrounding him were the employees, and in front of him were none other than his driver and Sir Topham Hatt. Both were relieved to see him awake, as it seemed.

"Salty, ol' boy! Thank God you're awake!" His driver cried as he jogged over. Salty smiled "Ahoy, driver..." he replied tiredly, his driver then scratched under the dockside diesel's chin. Salty purred in response and leaned into the affection, his tail softly thumping against the ground. As soon as that was over, Salty asked "So, uh...wha' happened t' me?"

Sir Topham Hatt then stepped forward "You were a really brave and useful engine, Salty. You fainted right after getting those men back on land! Luckily, you were escorted to the Dieselworks as soon as Carly pulled you out, and the employees here spent 3 hours trying to clear out the water from your insides"

Salty's eyes widened "Well, blimey..." he then looked to his driver, and it was then he remembered the red crate. He didn't remember it being pulled up before he lost consciousness "But...I didn' save me driver's crate o' presents fer his wife..." he said in a quiet, guilty voice. Sir Topham Hatt's gaze softened and he looked to Salty's driver, who said "But you did"

"Aye?"

"After you were taken here, Cranky fished out the crate. I can't thank you enough for getting it..." he explained with soft smile. In return, Salty smiled back.

"Salty...." The Fat Controller began "For your bravery, you will be repainted into a colour of your own choice!"

"Oh, thank ye sir!" Salty said happily.

____________________________________________

A day later, Salty returned to the docks in a clean new red livery that would definitely get James feeling jealous. His buffers still had their oil weathering, but he didn't mind at all.

The cranes and dock men welcomed him back, and all congratulated him on rescuing the crew men.

Salty was very glad that day that he saved the crew, and his driver's crate of gifts. But asides from that, he was just happy to be by the sea, no matter how chilly it could get.

"Ooooh.... don't take me away from the sea, boys! Oooh....doooon't take me away from the sea! Harharhar!!"

[oldiesstationlover11607]

Yeah…so…hi 👋🏻

It’s 💛. First of all, I’m very good thanks for asking. Just trying to get through university right now. I hope your last few days of high school go well. I know it can be a stressful time, but you got this!

So, anyways, I am now obsessed with your break the cycle fic. It’s awesome. I would inject it into my veins if I could. It’s so angsty and ugh I just love it so much. I was wondering if you could possibly do a sequel to it. Maybe Clancy being determined to get the reader to see the truth and trying to integrate her more into the Bandito camp? It could end angsty again with her still not believing them or it could end fluffy with them truly reuniting and teaming up against Dema. Either way I would die for.

Please, I beg of thee. This story quite literally may be my new obsession.

Break the Cycle Part 2 - Clancy x Reader

PART 1

Relationship: Tyler Joseph/Clancy x Fem!Reader and Josh/Torchbearer x Fem!Reader (Platonic)

Warnings: Violence, anything related to Dema or the Trench story that's generally triggering. Angst

Word Count: 2027 - it's long bestie!

A/N: I'm glad you're doing well! Break the Cycle is one I'm super proud of. I just loved writing a fresh out of Dema Clancy and pov because being in a situation like that, you don't just automatically change your mind on how you've been raised (we literally see Clancy not being able to break the cycle himself and for him to expect the reader to instantly believe him when it's taken him so long to get where he is just isn't realistic hence why part 2 is what it is). Hope this does part 1 justice and cannot wait for your next request!

“It means he loves you, idiot. You just have to break the cycle,” Josh muttered, before leaving me alone in the tent. Surprisingly, the weather was warmer out in Trench than it was back in Dema. The jacket I’d swiped from my room before leaving the city was starting to stick to my skin and sweat was dripping down my forehead. I tried flicking my hair so it would get out my face but it just made it fall down more. I couldn’t sit in this tent for much longer. I’d had nothing to drink for at least 3 hours–and it wasn’t like I could just get up and walk away. 

“Let me go!” I begged, calling out and trying to get the attention of anyone who would listen to me. Nothing. Tears started to stream down my face, a sick feeling rushing through my body. Keons hadn’t betrayed the other bishops, of course he hadn’t. He wouldn’t have just sent me off for nothing. A shadow cast over the side of the tent as the fabric rustled in the wind. “Hello?” I called out, waiting for some sort of response. Tyler stepped inside and sat down in front of me, completely silent. He had his mask in his hand and all I could think about was how different he looked–a couple new scars scattered across his face from battles I could only imagine. I wondered how he really got them. He looked stoic, calm even. I wanted to run, I wanted to punch him in the face and run far far away. “Are you just going to sit there and stare at me Tyler?” I scoffed. 

“It’s Clancy,” he answered bluntly.  

“I don’t care what it is,” I snapped, feeling the restraints on my wrists dig into my skin. “You’re Tyler to me.” As much as I wished he was still the same as before he’d clearly changed. Josh had mentioned that Trench had a way of changing people and the evidence was sitting right in front of me. Tyler nodded, his demeanor remaining serious. 

“Josh has asked me to show you around the camp,” he spoke. “Promise me you won’t run away Artemis.” He used the name Sacarver had gifted me, I cringed, not wanting to hear it escape his lips. 

“I’m not going to run away.” I held up the restraints and he moved to release me. Before I could rub the irritated skin he gripped my wrists and ran his fingers over them, a slight burning sensation rushed over the reddened lines. His touch reminded me of how we used to be, back when everything was normal–back when he was still mine. “It hurts,” I winced. 

“I think you’ll be okay. Let’s go,” he muttered, getting up and holding the door open for me. 

It was brighter outside than in the tent, my eyes needed a couple minutes to adjust. The warm air entered my nose, bringing a sense of clarity to my lungs. That was the one thing about Trench that I liked. The air felt crisp, clean. In Dema the air always felt polluted, dirty. “I thought you’d like the air, you used to complain a lot about feeling you were suffocating back home,” Tyler recalled. He was right, I used to complain about it a lot, so much so that our friends could predict when I was about to start a complaining session. I didn’t answer Tyler. I couldn’t bring myself to. We continued to walk through the camp as several banditos including Jenna greeted us. Josh was nowhere to be seen. I was shown the storage chests where all the food was kept as well as the huge bonfire at the center of the camp. I could tell why Tyler liked it better here than in Dema. There were more colors, I’d never seen so much green in one place. “It’s beautiful isn’t it?” 

I nodded in agreement. Tyler reached down and held my hand, intertwining our fingers and rubbing the calloused pad of this thumb over the back of my right hand. I looked up at him, our eyes meeting each other. 

“It’s beautiful Tyler, but we should go home. Keons seemed really worried about you,” I sighed. He gripped my hand tighter, clearly telling me that wasn’t what he wanted to hear. 

“Artemis, at least try to call me Clancy,” he insisted, “and I’ve already told you, Keons has betrayed the Bishops and is likely dead by now.” I dropped his hand and started to walk away towards the edge of the mountain. I wasn’t going to stand there and be convinced that my entire life had been a lie, that one of the two bishops who genuinely cared about me was dead. Tyler wasn’t going to do that to me, I wouldn’t let him. 

“Wait! You can’t just leave! Artemis!!” He stayed where he was, calling after me but refusing to leave the camp. A small part of me wished he would follow me, beg me to stay, explain everything, but he didn’t. As I reached the end of the mountain, I stopped and sat down, a circle of yellow flowers surrounding the border of the clearing. I squinted my eyes, looking off into the distance. If I looked properly, I could see the little gray dot that I’d known as my home for so many years. The sound of footsteps thumped behind me, causing me to turn around to see who it was. Josh. 

“What are you doing here?” I questioned. He hadn’t been around all day, clearly something had been more important than making sure I was okay. Torchbearer duties. 

“Clancy has informed me that you tried to run off,” he explained, sitting down next to me. 

“I didn’t!” I huffed, running a hand through my hair. “I just–I just needed some space.” Josh nodded, taking in what I was saying. He was the exact definition of a good leader: someone who was brave, someone who cared, someone who was a good listener. 

“You’re allowed to have some space.” I nodded in response. The air turned still as neither of us said a word. “You know, Clancy’s just worried about you. He–We wish you would see things our way,” Josh continued. “I really think you should just sit down with him and be open to hearing what he has to say.” He was right. I really did need to have a proper conversation with Tyler–no matter how hard it seemed. Josh got up, reaching his hand out to help me up with him. “I’ll help you find him Y/N.”

“Y/N?” I questioned, wondering why he was using my proper name. 

“I think you need a little familiarity till you settle in here,” he smiled kindly, leading us toward Tyler’s tent. The sun was starting to set when we arrived back at camp. Josh motioned for me to wait while he talked to Tyler. I stood outside, looking out across the camp. It was calm, no worries of being caught out after curfew and being dragged to the bishops. Maybe it wasn’t as bad as I’d thought. Jenna walked by, stopping to talk to me. 

“Artemis, right? She smiled at me warmly. “What’re you doing out here?”

“Josh–Torchbearer wants me to talk to Ty–Clancy. He thinks he’ll be able to change my mind about everything,” I revealed. 

“You know,” she said, “when Clancy got here, all he talked about was you. ‘Artemis is in trouble, I have to go back for Artemis, I miss her’, and constantly begging Torchbearer to let him go back.” I hadn’t realized Tyler cared that much, that he’d missed me just as much as I had him. That he’d actually tried to go back for me. 

“Y/N you can come in now,” Josh’s voice called from inside. I looked at Jenna and before I knew it her arms were wrapped around me. 

“If you ever need anything, come find me,” she hummed. No one in Dema was ever that happy–or willing to go out of their way to help others. I didn’t even think I’d ever been that happy before–except with Tyler. I nodded, resting my chin on her shoulder. 

“You coming?” Josh stuck his head out the door. “Oh, sorry!” he pulled an apologetic face, causing me to hold in a chuckle. Jenna said a quick goodbye to me and mouthed ‘good luck’ before continuing her stroll. I smiled to myself before entering the tent. The air was getting cooler as the sun went down and soon I would need extra layers. Both Josh and Tyler  were sitting there whispering to each other and while I couldn't hear what they were saying I could 100% tell the tone of the conversation was sharp. When they realized I was standing there they immediately stopped. 

“I should go finish my rounds,” Josh said, getting up and flicking me a wink before leaving us alone. Tyler looked like he wanted him to stay–like he didn’t want to be alone with me. “Tyler–Clancy,” I started, clearly trying to communicate clearly. “Can we–”

“Stop,” he interrupted, reaching his arms out to me. “Come here.” His voice was soft but determined, full of purpose. I moved closer, allowing him to wrap an arm around my shoulders. “Before we say anything, I’m sorry that I expected you to instantly change your views about Dema. That wasn’t fair,” he sighed. 

“It’s okay. Josh helped me realize this place isn’t so bad, it’s actually kind of beautiful. And Jenna–she told me you really missed me when you first got out,” I said, watching a small smile grow on his face. 

“I did miss you, a lot.” I tilted my head so I could get a proper look at him. Tears started to well in my eyes as I grew overwhelmed at the amount of new information I’d received in the last 48 hours. “Are you okay?” Tyler brushed a strand of hair out of my face and cupped my face, a concerned look planted on his. I nodded, desperately trying to hold back the tears. “Gosh Y/N, I didn’t realize this would be so hard for you.” He used my old name as his eyes searched mine, looking for something, some sort of meaning to this. I couldn’t hold it in anymore, the cinderblock of weight pressing harder and harder with each breath I took. Shallow sobs escaped my lips as Tyler wiped the salty tears from my cheeks. 

I let out a loud sigh before speaking, “I thought you were dead Ty. I genuinely thought you were dead and I was going to have to return to Dema and tell Keons and the bishops.” I shook my head, attempting to shake the thoughts out of my head. Tyler let out comforting shushes, trying to ease the pain I was feeling. 

“Hey, hey, I’m here. I’m alive. I’ve got you here on the floor, in a tent, in Trench, away from Dema. I’ve got you. We are both here, and safe, and alive,” he hushed. Tyler always knew how to ground me when I was upset. He gently rubbed the sides of my face with his thumbs, easing me into relaxation, the tears slowly stopping. I took a deep breath, letting Trench’s clean air circulate my lungs. Maybe Tyler was right. Maybe Trench was safer than Dema. 

“Tyler?–shit sorry, Clancy?” 

Tyler chuckled under his breath. “It’s okay Y/N. We can take it slow. Tyler’s okay.”

I nodded before continuing. “I–I love you still. You know that, right?” I could feel the warmth of his breath against my face. 

“I never stopped loving you,” he replied, leaning forward and pressing his lips against mine. I could feel the desperation behind every motion. It wasn’t a long kiss, something soft and tender–a reminder of what we still had. When we broke apart, I brought my hand to the back of his neck and leant my forehead against him. 

“I think I believe you Tyler, about the bishops and Dema, all of it.”

He smiled. Things were okay. We were safe. For now at least.

//

I-/

Requests open!

[ughmyreality]

I love your fics and I have a prompt for you. It’s fine if you don’t want to take it. It’s Christina/Orel fic idea. Basically one day Reverend Putty comes across a grisly sight of Christina and Orel wrapped in each other arms lying dead. He find out they drowned but the weird part is that they drowned in sea water but Moralton is pretty far from the ocean. Putty decides to solve the mystery by looking back over the previous weeks remember Orel asking about love and sacrifice. He then discovers the Posabules were under a curse that could only be lifted with an act of love.

Hey, I will go ahead and say that I lowkey didn't know what to write for this for multiple reasons lol. Mainly, I'm not particularly enthralled with Reverend Putty. So this might be OOC. Another being, I decided to take a more realistic route rather than lean to heavily into it being a hardcore curse. Anyway, I present to you "The Truth Will Set You Free"

Death is all around. From the highest points to the deepest depths. It’s a fate so inevitable that it might as well be a comfort. No matter what you do in life, even your biggest missteps will be erased in due time. That is why Reverend Putty places little thought in the matter. When it happens all around you, you become numb to it. It was just another thing that happens just as the moon proceeding the sun. Just as God intended it to be, and after all who was he to question God, he was simply his spokesperson.

But that doesn’t mean that all death is pleasant. No, some are taken in gruesome ways while others are far too young. It just so happens that the sight before him was a mixture of both. 

The sun had barely come up into the sky by the time the Reverend made it to the church. He wanted to get there extra early to rehearse what quick whipped jokes he’d tell and it’s not like anyone would miss him back at home. 

When the creaky door fully opens, it wasn’t the sight he had become accustomed to. There laying in the middle of the building sat two people. A boy and a girl. Orel and Christy, Christian, Kristina Whatever that new girl’s name was. Their arms were wrapped around each other as though to shield each other from harm. It would have been a wholesome sight if they were just sleeping.

…if only they were just sleeping.

Their faces were still submerged deep within two buckets. One a beach pail and the other a mop bucket. Probably swiped by the two. The water within them couldn’t be just regular water from the tap. No, this had the familiar stench of the wilderness. The piss of the animals and the salt of the sea. But how’d they get it anyway?

Taking a closer look he sees a simple note laid like a small blanket over the two. 

Hello to whoever’s found me. If I have yet to wake, that must mean that the curse is lifted! I’m sorry but we couldn’t find a mass amount of holy water so this will have to do instead. The boy beside me is Orel. He kinda helped me with this plan. Don’t worry, he’s going to be ok too. We both think he has the curse too. We’ll be just fine,  for in God’s hands everything goes to plan.

-Love Christina Posabule and Orel Puppington

He knows exactly where to go.

“Hiya Reverend!”

-2 Weeks Earlier-

It was a late Sunday afternoon. The service had come to an end, and all he wanted to do was get home and rest, but as they say there’s seemingly no rest for the wicked. Orel came barreling through the door with a joyful expression on his face.

“Ugh, Orel, don’t you have anything better to do?”

Orel’s face didn’t change, instead he deflected. “What’s more important than talking about God?”

The boy held his eye contact until he was forced to give in.

“What is it now, Orel?”

“Well, I’m glad you asked! What if you love someo-”

He quickly cuts the boy off. ‘Love’? Why would he be asking about that of all things? There was no room for things like love in a town like Moralton.

“Orel, I know nothing about love so you might as well cut it off there.”

“Come on Reverend, everyone knows about love at least a little bit. I mean you have to love God something fierce to devote your time to be a Reverend! I might know a lot about it but I know that I love that I can go to school, and my brothers, and christmas, and apple pie, and going to church, and hav-”

“OK! Fine, I get it, everyone knows about love. Now what is it you need?”

Orel let out a sigh of relief and rambled, “Oh, well, I need to help someone else. They need to sacrifice for someone they love but how do you do that? Shouldn’t they want the best for you? Not want you to sacrifice anything?”

“Orel, Orel, Orel. People make small sacrifices everyday, it doesn’t even have to be for someone they love. Take your Mom and Dad for example, they’ve stayed together all these years for appearances. Danielle continues to coach you crazy kids for money. And I’m talking to you to keep face. We all must sacrifice some of our happiness to survive in this world, Orel.”

For the first time since he’d arrived Orel’s bright eyed gaze shifts. “But… this person isn’t very happy as it is.”

“You know, when something gets too hard, it's easier to just give up. Like writing an essay an hour before the deadline. It would be easier to not do it at all than try to scramble to get it finished. So, I’d say you should just end-”

Orel jumped up from the pew with a new wave of excitement. He had to give it to the kid, nothing could take him down for too long.

“Great! Thanks so much Reverend! You always know what to say!” He smiled at him and ran to the door.

“Hello, I’m Rev-

“...the relationship.”

“I know who you are. It hasn’t been that long, you old geezer.”

The person who came to the door was no other than Poppit Posabule. When he first thought of abruptly showing up to her house he refrained. He needed to give the police time to inform the family and to let them grieve. It’s been 3 days since he’s found them but the woman before him looks as though nothing was amiss. Three days is a long time for a lot of things but three days wasn’t enough to get over the loss of a child.

“Well, I just came here to talk about Christina if you don’t mind.”

The woman leaves the door, opting to walk deeper inside the house. She takes off her shoes and walks on the plush carpet and he takes this as a sign to follow.

“What’s there to talk about?”

��Surely you know that Christina has passed aw-”

“I know she’s dead.”

He stills right in his place. It was such an abrupt way to speak of someone much less their own child.

“She’s dead so there isn’t much left to talk about is there?”

“Maybe I can talk about this to your husband?”

“He’s not here.”

“When will he be back?”

“We divorced, he’s never coming back. I’m getting tired of your questions. Can’t you see I’m a newly freed woman? I’m trying to enjoy myself for the first time in years! In solitude.”

“Fine! I’m just here to find out why they did it! You know she did it with Orel too right? That kid really knew how to get under my skin but he was still a kid. A kid who now will never get to grow up! Do you know why she did it? Why try an-”

“BECAUSE I TOLD HER TO! Because she'd become the bane of my existence. Because I wanted a way out! So what if I made up some story for her? Parents do it all the time. The story of a poor little girl named Christina, who was cursed when she was a baby. She made everyone around her miserable but all she had to do was make a sacrifice. The curse was sure to be her family's downfall if she didn’t reverse it. And look at her now! It’s reversed!”

Living in Moralton has caused him to hear plenty of fucked up things but this… this might take the cake.

“It wasn’t hard either, she was so gullible. Oh so very gullible. It’s not like flat out told her to do it. She could have left the family any way she pleased but you know how kids are Reverend. So full of imagination.”

It’s not uncommon for families to have that one member that they’d rather avoid. The one that you only include out of obligation. The one that sticks around plaguing the family like a curse. For the Posabules, that person was Christina. And now he knows the unfortunate truth.

And you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free. – John 8:32

[merv606]

I can’t even lieeee: Puritanverse is hot, but Puritanverse with Terri/Danielle is even hotter. There’s something about tiny, sweet, virginal little omega Dani who only wants to make her Alpha happy getting her brains fucked out by dom!femme fatale!Alpha!Terri is insanely hot to me. Dani having no idea what happens with an Alpha and an Omega and discovering that on her wedding night is

🔥 🔥 🔥

And of course Dani being her clueless, submissive, respectful little self is 🥵🥵 Calling Terri “Ms. Silver” or “Alpha”, or even “Ma’m” while being cute and cuddly and affectionate and having no idea that she drives Terri totally crazy is…!!!!

And Terri being her controlling, possessive, and protective self but upped to 11 because Dani is innocence and sweetness incarnate. Ugh. UGH.

Just so perfect ♥️

I’m working on it lol

Anon came back with some details that I am working with 😉

A sneak peek of it so far - it’s going to be so LONG lol

Dani tugs down on the nightie she’s wearing.

The pure white nightie with ruffle edges had been laid out for her to change into for their wedding night. Picked out for her by her alpha. Paid for by her alpha.

She’s never shown so much skin before. Never been more on display.

It’s short, and although she has panties on, those don’t leave much to the imagination. There’s an inch or so of bare skin showing above her panties as the nightie doesn’t go down far enough.

They aren’t the same ones she wore under her wedding dress. Terry has those. Just thinking about that moment has her omega place throbbing deep inside, clenching on nothing, slick dampening these new panties too.

It was after the ceremony, finally having stood and received congratulations from all the guests, most of them remarking on Terri’s good choice. The beauty of her choosen omega on display in a deep burgundy velvet dress, extra vibrant against the tan of Dani’s olive skin, the gold jewels sinfully beautiful as they draped down between her flat chest, around a narrow waist and arms. Dani may not be used to wearing jewelry, not owing any at all actually, and while she struggles not to fiddle with it out of nerves, ultimately she’s glad for it as the jewelry is both beautiful and covers some of the expanse of skin on display, The V cut of the dress wide and so low it almost reaches her belly button.

Terri had picked the gown and while it was a bit scandalous to Dani, who didn’t see it until the morning of their wedding, it was a beautiful gown, and for her like a perfect glove. It was just a bit revealing for her delicate sensibilities but she wanted to make her alpha happy - wanted to start their marriage off on the right foot.

So she stepped into the dress, standing still as it was pulled up.

She tries not to look at herself in the mirror as her lady in waiting fastens the jewelry piece in place.

Truth is she had been the talk of the town - no one had managed to catch and keep Terri’s attention for more than a night - it was assumed she would never settle down.

But Dani - oh Dani was different. From the moment Terri laid eyes on her she was different. The alpha inside screaming to take and claim. The alpha inside knowing the girl belonged to her - that the girl was theirs - their rightful mate.

Not even a week after meeting her, Terri had announced their pending marriage.

Of course tongues wagged that the girl was with child; already impregnated by the alpha.

Terri had whisked her away to her mansion, both to have her all to herself and to protect her - keeping her out of the public eye - and from her hearing the rumours. She knew the rumors would upset her pious little mate, and Terri would fuck and bred that out of her in time, just like once her ring was on her finger she would be showing her off - once she let her out of bed and off her cock anyway.

By the time the public saw Dani again the rumors would actually be true - she would be carrying Terri’s heir safely inside her.

But after all the congratulations, Terri had wrapped a large hand around her worst, encircling it easily, gentling pulling the girl to an empty room.

A kiss, that she had to stand on her tip toes to accept while Terri bent down to meet her. Terri was tall as it but she was wearing heels, and a sleek black blazer dress. Dani was much shorter, and had only managed to walk on small kitten heels in time for the wedding, something she had been assured was fine with Terri.

“Just a small taste to tide me over until tonight. I deserve that much.”

“You have no idea how hard it was to keep my hands off you.”

“I can smell how wet you are.”

Terry had moved the strap of the dress, exposing her chest, her nipple peaked as a thumb brushed over it, a sharp intake of breath and a gorgeous little whimper.

“You are so responsive to the smallest touch, sweetheart.”

Dani’s face burned as her wife’s large hand disappeared under the dress, her hand flattening against her tummy dipping into her underwear, a middle finger easily sliding between her wet slit.

She gasped, Terri sealing her mouth over hers, taking all the greedy nosies the grip was making for her - because of her - for herself.

Removing her hand and licking her finger into her mouth, with a groan at the taste of her omega’s sweet juices.

“Delicious, just like I knew you would be. I can’t wait to taste it straight from the source tonight.”

Dani wrinkled her brows, wondering what that meant but before she could ask, Terry had pushed Dani’s panties down to her knees, and Daniel swore they hit the ground with a thud, Terry holding her hand to help her step out of them.

The alpha had bent down, picking them up, bringing them to her face inhaling deeply, licking at the damp crotch.

Dani was scandalized, had no frame of reference for this behaviour, yet could feel slick running down her thigh all the same.

“We should rejoin them,” Terri sighs, her tone letting Dani know exactly how much she does not want to, “lest tongues start wagging that I told my rights and consummated the marriage.”

“Consummate the marriage?” Dani asks, cocking her head to the side and Terri freezes.

“You do know what happens tonight don’t you? Your duty on our marital bed?”

“No, ma’am,” she answers, unsure of which honorific her alpha prefers to be called. “I’m not sure …” she says shakily. “I hope this does not disposing you …”

“Hardly,” Terri snorts, interrupting her with a shark like smile. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you tonight,” a finger on her chin tipping her face up. “Tonight and every night for the rest of our lives. I’ll make sure all your needs, all your needs are met, always.”

Dani hadn’t been given her underwear back.

Just the thought of that hours old memory and the look on her new wife’s face has her shivering. Has her squeezing her thighs together, the throbbing between them overwhelming. Terri had looked so, so … hungry, is the only word Dani can think of. Hungry for what though, she does not know. The wedding had more food laid out than Dani had ever seen in her life.

Well now she stands waiting for her wife, about to find out.

She tries to yank the nightie down again but the deep V of it means she can’t really pull it down to cover her bottom half more without exposing her chest. The material is already slightly loose where her small breasts don’t fill it out properly.

Terri picked it out - just like her wedding dress - just like all of her new wardrobe - her new life.

Everything on her body was bought and paid for by her alpha - she had very little possessions coming into this union, and now she had everything it seemed.

Her wardrobe was already overflowing - various sundresses and clothes that she knew would fit perfectly - to show off her figure - but some looked a bit big for her - more loose and flowy than the rest, which seemed odd as Terri liked her to show off her figure. When she had innocently inquired, her lady in waiting had stifled a laugh behind her hand before clearing her voice, explaining those were maternity dresses. Dani had nodded her head in understanding. She knew Terri wanted her with child as soon as possible - although she wasn’t quite sure how that happened - she knew now that the alpha did and would show her. That was a relief

A knock but before she can answer, the door is opened, Terri sweeping in.

TBC 😈 and hopefully what the ANON is looking for - the whole thing once finished will be under the ask in my inbox

[bmblboop]

RWBY X Justice League... TWO!

Gonna do another liveblog while killing some time. Here goes!

-cut for length-

UHD is 480p? This movie has been out for two weeks and it's not 1080? I thought the first one was only that way bc I got it day-of!

Ugh, I wont get mad over it. The YT edition gave me trouble the last time too - let's just see how it goes.

Recap! Took me a minute to realize this is the Weiss vs Bruce music from the first movie - which is definitely the closest we've gotten to classic RWBY music.

"'Grimm' as in, "The Brothers"?" For half a second I thought she was referring to the Gods of Light and Dark but no as in the authors 'Brothers Grimm' because the DC universe is supposed to be Earth and fairytales are just fairytales here. Are they gonna lean more into the allusion aspect of RWBY et. al now that we have a world where Red Riding Hood and the others are just stories?

Jurassic Park moment with the Pterrorsaur. Except this time they can literally smell fear.

Epic Ruby moment vs the Taijitu (first time in Maya), love how creative the fights are.

Grimm on Earth turn to gunk? Hopefully it's just goo and not regeneration-goo (like the Wyvern 'Blood' in v3).

Ooh, when the Kilg%re/Goliath gets punched the cracks are yellow. Color scheme: red, white, black, yellow.

When I saw the flash of purple tailing Batman I thought TYRIAN!? Nope, it's just a Scorpion with a modified tail... suspiciously like Tyrian's. Guess Watts is involved after all.

Saw this preview clip, but ow. Weiss is still hurting from losing Atlas, and I honestly don't blame her. That was her home, and it's straight up gone. Glad to see this carry through from v9, as well as Ruby's post-renewal mindset.

Voice changer to keep the mystery voice a mystery.

Mmm Flash angst. Reminds me of v9 Jaune. Blond boys get no sleep.

Had to pause on Weiss' contacts screen and I love that shes got all her teammates, all her family, and Maria just, lurking. Lol

Clearly Maria has her own scroll but I do have to wonder how good she is at tech things given she has such a close-cropped image. Or maybe she doesn't give a shit XD.

Love love love that conversation with Klein, I love that this is the direction of Weiss' character arc and I love that daddy issues whammy of 'He abandoned Atlas long before it fell.' 'Do you mean Atlas, or your family?'

Time dilation double pun. The 'when you are needed most' line at the end of v9 and Weiss being the one saying 'we have experience with that' considering one of her glyphs is Time Dilation.

Blake breaking down the door feat. Yang's flirty wink.

XD Ruby entering the portal in style

We finally got a 'not in Kansas anymore' referenceeeee.

Oh, split up along Weiss/Blake and Yang/Ruby this time, glad to see it! Time for sisterly conflict.

Heh. Joker and Harley watching the city burn.

Oh now I see why Blake went to Gotham. Cat. Bat. "This is where he's from. I get it now."

The way Ruby just knew that she'd still be able to move like she did on Remnant. My girl. (Was worried for a sec she was gonna try to Silver Eyes it and that would fail)

"You learn not to question Flash's villain roster." That got a laugh out of me and I don't even know about Flash's lore.

Something about Weiss mentioning "Mr Freeze" while dressed as an Ice Princess is funny to me.

The particles on Blake and Jessica's fist bump :D

Aw man, it IS regeneration goop!

I guess 'consciousness is stored' is how we can get Watts in a post-v9 crossover. Technomagic stuff.

Weiss proving she's the queen.

Hope Cyborg isn't corrupted.

Love this Cobra/Dragonfly grimm. Clip it's wings!

'We need more firepower.' Enter Yang with an epic save.

Hold on, are Yang's flame punches the color of the lesbian flag?

Are we gonna a get a 'speedsters need to slow down' moral here? With Flash also rushing into danger and nearly getting killed?

Anyway, planning session time.

The truth revealed.

Honestly, 'no body no death' kinda applies here like we KNOW that Watts died either burning to death via Cinder's wish or when Atlas fell but he was surrounded by computers at the time as well. It could have literally been the last thing he ever did. (Or he did it during v7 since he already wormed his way into the Atlas network via Jacques).

Via Jacques. Man. Watts really is Weiss's personal villain.

The whole 'transferring consciousness' thing also reeks of the Aura Transfer machines used on the Maidens, but I always assumed that was Pietro's invention so he could give life to Penny. Maybe Watts stole or twisted the concept for his own use.

Yang seeing the Ruby in Flash mmmmm. The way he looks at her arm and asks 'what happened?' and Yang explains how she felt ooooooooo. Flash explaining that Kilgore is no longer in his brain but he hears and sees him all the time.

Blonde PTSD buddies WOOOO-

Meanwhile Ruby and Clark orphan bonding. Not entirely sure how Ruby will take the 'I make my parents proud for fighting for the things they died for'

Also given that some of Summer's first "lines" in the show was Red Like Roses Part 2 "baby please don't do what I did/I don't want you to waste your life in vain"

And on that somber note -break time!

[idealisticrealism]

TCL 3x11 thoughts

Very delayed bc life is hectic and it's the hiatus anyway. 3x12 to follow at some point lol

The main things: 

The Thony & Nadia of this ep was everything. Nadia being initially furious with Thony about taking the choice out of her hands with faking her death, but then realising that not only would she be 100% dead if Thony hadn’t done it, but Thony had also risked her own life to help her. Thony’s reaction to Jorge saying that she and Nadia were close, recognising the truth in it. Thony arguing on Nadia’s behalf when Jeremy goes back on his deal. Nadia turning to Thony for help getting the cash, and being genuinely appreciative of Thony for doing it. Thony and the family hiding Nadia from Ramona. Nadia being devastated over the marked cash, and Thony helping yet again by getting the stash from the motel. Nadia desperately pleading with her to bring Jorge in, and Thony refusing because she’s still trying to protect all of them, Nadia included. Nadia thanking Thony and Fi with the jewellery from Kamdar and telling them how much their help meant to her. Thony driving Nadia all the way out into the desert, being the last link to her old life, the one to literally deliver her to freedom…. and then the whole “I can’t believe all we’ve been though”/“I’m glad you’re free”/“I hope one day you can be free too, Thony”, and the way Thony is the one to reach for her and then they just hold on to one another so tight?? They really have been through so much together, and they care so much about one another. The love they both had for Arman was initially the thing that stood between them, but now it’s what links them, and in some ways part of that love has transferred to each other since his loss. Despite everything, they are truly family to each other now, which is what makes everything that happens next even more heartbreaking, bc of course the writers just couldn’t let my baby Nadia be free :,(

Ugh and when Ramona appears and accuses Nadia of stabbing her in the back, Thony completely freezes, but Nadia doesn’t panic or fall apart or beg– she could have tried to save herself by telling Ramona about Thony and Jeremy, but she doesn’t. She protects Thony like Thony protected her, and faces her fate with her head held high and her usual cutting snarkiness, and I love her so much for it, even as my heart breaks for both her and Thony. When Ramona stabs Nadia, you can see the utter shock and horror on Thony’s face, and then ugh I’ll never be over the way she just completely disregards Ramona and the threat to her own life to stay by Nadia’s side as she dies, telling her she’s here with her, screaming her name as she’s dragged away…Thony fought so hard to save Nadia, to do for her what she hadn’t been able to do for Arman, and yet she still failed, still lost her like she’s lost so many people she’s cared about in even just the past few months. And okay yes we had some warning, bc this ep was full of painful foreshadowing about it– “I don’t think anyone can make Nadia Morales disappear” “My whole life can’t be for nothing” etc– but ughhhhhh my creys. Honestly them killing Nadia off was just so fucking heartbreaking, because it didn’t need to happen! Losing Arman was of course so incredibly awful, but there was literally no choice there, so that made it just the tiniest bit easier to bear. Killing Nadia, though… I can see the narrative value of it, how having Ramona’s inability to just let her go be the very thing that later brings Ramona down, and how through that Nadia gets the ultimate revenge on her… (“Please, Thony. Get her for us. For Arman”) but stiiiilllll. The writers could have absolutely found another way for Thony and Jorge to bring Ramona down while still letting Nadia escape with her life– death is not the only way to write out a character!. But then again, I guess this show has always been about the price that comes with going to whatever lengths necessary to protect one person (and also the consequences of getting in over your head in a world you don’t understand), so Nadia apparently had to become yet another hard lesson for Thony to learn… I just wish that the writers could have stopped at Marco and Maya for that lesson, rather than taking Garrett, Arman, and Nadia from us too. Sighhhh. 

But ugh I really did love elements of this ep… Nadia and Fi becoming instant besties was so important to me ugh. And Nadia getting to be hugged by Fi, who was yet another person who genuinely wished her well and cared what happened to her, like Thony? She deserved that. And I’m so glad those guys finally got to act together, even if it felt like an even sadder goodbye after that

Honestly, Nadia and Thony and Fi just being SO done with Jeremy was a highlight in this ep lol. Thony referring to him as ‘a stupid undercover’ right in front of him. Jeremy offering for Nadia to move to Utah or Oregon and asking where she would rather be, and her responding “Dead. But for real.” (As someone who has been to every US state, that one definitely got a loud laugh lol). Fi’s rant at Jeremy was also amazing, and lol Thony “She had a few things to say, I didn’t want to interrupt” hahahahaaa. Honestly Jeremy sucks so bad and I want him gone like immediately, but at least his presence this season has meant some excellent opportunities for hilarious snarkiness from these women. I also felt very satisfied about how grumpy he was for most of the ep because he views himself as the good guy and yet these women clearly see him as the villain, and plus he kept getting the feeling he was being played but still wasn’t able to catch them at it. Getting outsmarted by these civilians again hey buddy? That’s a little embarrassing for you lol

I have been wanting Luca and Violeta to be friends since we first saw her, and I love that they immediately started happily playing together, but omg their hide and seek game was so goddamn stressful. Thony’s panic was so palpable I could hardly watch ughhhhhh 

Ugh Thony telling Fi about how she almost let Ramona die… that acknowledgment of the darkness that she’s learned she’s capable of… her needing the FBI to lock Ramona up because if they don’t, she’s afraid that next time she gets the chance to make Ramona pay with her life, she’ll take it…. I just love seeing her growing and changing as a character, and I love that her experiences through the seasons have made her understand Arman more and more. They were similar in a lot of ways, and understood each other to such a deep level, and ugh it was such a gift to watch *sobs*

Jorge tells Ramona that his partnership with Nadia “wasn’t like that” (aka had no romantic element), and tbh I believe him? He saw in her someone whose ambition and drive matched his own, and who had the skills and assets to help build his dream. He saw the opportunity she represented, and he also saw it as a chance to look out for one of the women his nephew loved, just like he looks out for Thony (honestly I think he intended to bring Thony in on the hotel development as well, which is why he deliberately got her to come to his office while the investor guy was there discussing the plans). And idk man, maybe this is just the Ace in me talking, but just because two people are attractive and get along well and find support in each other does not automatically mean they wanna hook up!?? I know TV show writers do often tend to go for the romantic/sexual angle when they have two single characters of different genders interacting a lot, but that doesn’t mean they’re going to do that in every situation, especially when it wouldn’t make sense in the circumstances (like in this case!). Tbh Jorge and Nadia’s connection (and Jorge and Thony’s) is just as compelling without the romantic element– for people to care about each other and support each other without it being tied to their desire for sex? That’s special and interesting in its own way. And who knows, maybe either of these two relationships would have had the potential to develop into something romantic in the future, but in the current moment it would make zero sense when both Nadia and Thony are brokenhearted and grieving the man they loved.  But anyway though, I gotta say I really appreciated Jorge for not hesitating to keep Nadia and Thony’s secret from Ramona, and for sending such a huge amount of money to help Nadia be free (how many people would have just let go of $40 million like that, when they could have kept it for themselves without any consequences??). Letting go of both Nadia and the money meant risking his hotel dream falling apart, but he did it anyway, and I respect him so much for that. 

Other stuff

Ugh Thony sitting in Jeremy’s lair, watching his video feeds of her family’s home… seeing all that must have felt like such a violation. No wonder she joins Fi in smashing the cameras after lol

Some of the scene choices in this ep were hilarious, like Nadia apparently going from arguing with Thony (at the end of last ep) to somehow passing out on the couch again lol. And then when she wakes (again) and they argue (again), Thony has her own little rant and then storms off… but just goes and sits on the couch in full view of the others? Like the writers could at least have had her go into the other room lol, which is what most people would do after an argument like that?

Oh man, the scene where Thony goes and gets the money out of the safe was so stressful, worrying if she was about to be caught any second... and it was also hard to see her in that office and remember all the moments she shared with Arman there. That space used to mean so much and now it must feel so empty ughhhhhh

Awww, Chris calling Paolo ‘Dad’, and then the very parental discussion where Paolo calls Chris out on the way he talks to Fi, just like a true dad would? I love that for them

Chris and Camila are so cute but damn the whole thing with them nearly getting caught by ICE was so damn stressful!!! This show has no consideration of my poor nerves lol

Was so happy to see the return of Samantha! I love that she is always down to help them screw over the FBI lol. A true ally 

Had the sudden realisation while watching this ep that the actor playing Jeremy also played Toby, Channing Tatum’s friend in the movie She’s The Man, and it honestly blew my mind. He was such a baby then!!!

[women-of-malevolent]

All references to women in Part 38 - The Tear

John, trying to get Arthur to relax, mentions that they woke up today at Marie's, gosh what a day. A lot of the references to Marie are actually to her house.

More debating about the stone. John says, Scratch will be pleased, Hattie will be free, and we will have one more ally in the world. Scratch is powerful, and Oscar has served his purpose. Arthur is torn.

more shit about giving oscar the stone

John's and Arthur are miserable this season and I'm so glad to not be paying attention to them

I'm gonna be honest this is how I experienced this part of the story the first time around too. Mostly skimming the weird John and Arthur shit and waiting for Hattie to come up, and being so annoyed every time she does, because she's just a hackeysack. Sometimes the story can be bothered to care about Mr. Scratch but not really

John and Arthur are arguing. Arthur says, hey, remember in the mines, I was a monster without you, and Faroe brought you back. John says yes.

Ugh we're at the part where Arthur calls John a boy

I wish Arthur would apply these words to himself instead of just using them to dismiss John. Also, listen. Is the story going to be about getting Faroe back? Because Arthur compares people children to dismiss them constantly. He's also fucking weird about women. So I'm not exactly rooting for that.

God Arthur really puts his foot in it, this episode

The truth is I find this part horrifying, because I find it horrifying that someone who was once very powerful is trapped with Arthur, who is now mentally manipulating him into being his little Faroe, just a child who he has to shape. It's all very gross to me. Repulsive stuff really. I really don't like this part and I don't think I have to.

Doesn't Deviser open with DAD doing this to SON? He keeps subjecting him to violent, upsetting shit. And SON is like, "Help me! Get me out of here! I want to control my own life and stop being subjected to DAD's crazy ride!" And DAD is like "I AM SORRY, SON. I HAVE FAILED YOU. I WILL TRY ANOTHER SIMULATION." And SON lets out this deeply moving sob from the heart; the cry of someone with no control, someone whose captor fully does not see them as someone they can work with but instead someone they must shape in these cruel, arbitrary ways. The terror of being trapped as someone who must be shaped, someone who couldn't possibly do anything on his own but only react to inputs from his betters.

ARTHUR IS DAD!!!!!!!!! ARTHUR IS TREATING JOHN LIKE DAD TREATS SON!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Is this on purpose? If so, neat! 👍 It's not too late for John to be Faroe or something so that this is an intentional commentary on why Arthur is a shitty dad who needs to grow and change a little more because he keeps fucking up every time people are dependent on him!

John doesn't care about any of this LOL. (me, delusional) See! It's not too late for this to be good! I think John maintains his dignity here. I think this might be a conversation where Arthur is an idiot and John is long-suffering through his shit, and it's intentionally framed to center Arthur in a way that draws attention to how framing changes our perception of events.

John says, what he cares about is getting Arthur to the Order of the Fallen Star. Poor John. He's bound by the deal with Kayne and Arthur is saying all this insane shit about how John is his child. Anyways, John admits that he wants Oscar gone. Arthur says, fine, we can get rid of him, but not kill him. John says, listen, I have no out, do you get that? No one else can hear me. Neither Arthur nor John knows what to do to fix that. But, they'll work together to end Scratch, and leave Oscar.

John and Arthur find mysterious caves and a vault covered in alien markings. The vault is large enough to hold the book from Marie's place. Whatever was in here set the Allan family on the path to Scratch.

Forgive my highlighting

In the vault, I think, they find a journal from Edward William Allan. John and Arthur decide to read it. Edward William Allan is shitty Jonah Magnus.

Okay *hunkers down*

This information should have come from Hattie journal. Instead, John and Arthur dismiss Hattie's journal because old people don't keep those

Shitty Jonah Magnus is working with Scratch. The thing they want is the home, which is the place where the portal opened up, and necromantic aliens are coming out of the portal. Shitty Jonah Magnus kills the Allan family and assumes the identity of one of their boychildren. Fake Edward William Allen (FEWA from now on) wants a portal to the outer gods. He needs to say the incantation a very specific way, and changing the pronunciation slightly will massively change the portal locations. Sounds like Google Navigate amirite!!!

FEWA figures out how to open the portal

The alien creatures are becoming annoying

But not too annoying!

More work on the gateway

Awww FEWA is working towards his brother 💖 love to see even MORE homosocial family bonding in this story about how men destroy the women in their families

Arthur deduces that Scratch is here because he's trapped between his world and this one, unable to leave either. If they close the gateway, repair the tear, it would eliminate Scratch.

John is kind of a stick in the mud about continuing; Arthur says, the damage has already been done, Marie lost her sister and husband.

John reads a little more right before they leave, about time dilation, from FEWA's diary. Scratch's true form has silver eyes and violet skin. FEWA sure has a lot of fucking thoughts about Scratch's deceptive identity, oh MY GOD. You're a bodysnatcher, fuck off!!! This show is so fucking weird about women!!! Is this on purpose? Maybe it's on purpose. Anyways, John and Arthur says, Scratch isn't necessarily a guise, but Scratch might just not remember who or what he is.

If John and Arthur open the gateway and throw the stone inside of it, that might work to fix their problems, and also give the entity Scratch its memories back

Arthur's gonna do it. Getting rid of the stone with get rid of Scratch.

John notes that a great number of beings Arthur perceives as simple-minded are surprisingly clever in many other worlds.

It's possible that whatever is assuming Scratch will attack them

They open a realm to the gods, toss in the stone, and close it

They lose FEWA's journal, with the instructions for working the portal. Scratch pops out of the portal and scolds them for being deal-breaking traitors.

There's a dangerous old woman running around so you know what John and Arthur have to do ;) PUT! HER! DOWN!!!!

Arthur says, I know what you did, Scratch! You tricked that poor body snatcher family-murderer Fake Edward William Allan! You manipulated him! Scratch seems thrown off by this, and John says he looks like "a lost child." Scratch says, but you're my favorite. Arthur says "not anymore" and recites the words to trap him. After the incantation, a young-er-sounding woman laughing maniacally. It's me!

John says, someone was there with Scratch, a woman. A woman with black hair, alabaster skin, and silver eyes (sound of my soul leaving my body), and then they merged together, became one, as if whole. And she didn't look like she was in prison, it looked like she was free. Arthur and John completed what Scratch was trying to trick FEWA into doing years ago - setting this WOMAN free.

Weirdly, Arthur starts using female pronouns for Scratch now.

After I catch up I want to do some pronoun analysis around Scratch, like I did with Sarah Cummings' name

[universalzones]

"Hey Surge, that was awesome what you did out there today. You showed that Phantom Jerkwad what for and sent him packing." Tangle would've gotten him herself, though was busy helping people stay on their boards.

"It's not that big of a deal. I wanted to crush him, though didn't wanna be out of the event." Surge was telling half truths right now, though they don't need to know that for obvious reasons.

"Regardless, you did a good thing and put a stop this event crasher. You did a great job today," Lanolin said, giving a few friendly pats on Surge's back before walking off.

"...Yeah." Surge wasn't sure what to say. Her emotions were all wacky now. Ugh, why was she feeling glad they were telling her good job and shit. Whatever, won't matter soon anyway.

"Though if he crash's the next race I'll make sure to give him a super awesome tail upper cut." Tangle seemed ready to throw down with this Phantom Rider as she left the room.

Surge then looked at the last one, Whisper. "Well, not gonna say I did a good job or nothin?" At least the wisp flinger was smart and didn't trust her. Should let her start some beef.

"...You did," Whisper said, taking notice Surge's surprised look. "It may have been reckless, though you stopped him from putting anyone else in danger even if you didn't catch him. That's a good day's work. Rest up." The wolf then left.

Now Surge was left alone with her thoughts, and this feeling of joy and pride. 'I, just, don't understand these people. I need to run this off.' The tenrec then dashed off to the training grounds to run a couple hundred laps.