baremagazine-blog1

[retrokid616]

travis willingham no you didn't you once a ranger on laudna

[kimberlyannharts]

I love doing an entire write-up of the PR side of Charge to 100 and realizing I never mentioned Yale once.  We lost Kiya for this.    

[happy74827]

Real Life Fairytale

[Robby Keene x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: You tried so hard not to be that girl, but the more you were around him, the more you were convinced clichés could be a good thing.

WC: 712

Category: Fluff, First Kiss

Since Cobra Kai coming back later this month, here’s some fluff with the Marty Mcfly of karate.

『••✎••』

It was a typical cliché, and as much as you hated it, there was something that still pulled at you. Something that pulled you right into the arms of none other than Robby Keene.

Your relationship had been rocky at best; it had started out with him pickpocketing your purse and the two of you becoming friends because, at the time, you believed he was simply returning what you lost.

Of course, when your friendship officially became a friendship, he told you the truth and apologized. LaRusso had offered him a job, and everything he did suddenly became about changing his life and earning his place. He wanted to prove to his father that he was more than just some punk-ass kid from the wrong side of the tracks.

So, how did that bring you to where you are now? How did a guy like Robby Keene, dressed up in Marty McFly attire, become the center of your universe?

The Halloween Bash, of course.

Originally, the entire group of friends, the past feud between Robby and Miguel, had long been forgotten, so they decided to do one big group costume. Demetri thought it would be a good idea to go with the Power Rangers, which was fine, except for the fact that Eli was the only one who actually wanted to be a Ranger. Everyone else was either not impressed or completely clueless about who they were.

In the end, the group split off into their own individual costumes, and that's how you ended up with your favorite movie being used as the basis for your outfits.

It took a lot of convincing on your part. I mean, the dude looked practically identical to the real actor; he was the obvious choice. Throw a Walkman on him, and boom, the costume is perfect.

He blamed it on the hair, which it technically was. Ever since he ditched Dora's cut with Diego, he just became that geeky kid who freaked at the word 'chicken.'

And in all honesty, you truly believed he hated that word, too. Eli said it to bait him once, and he did not go down easily.

It only took you an hour to convince him, but after a while, he relented, and the costume was finalized.

So, obviously, when the two of you walked in with swag that only the 80s could pull off, you stayed for about an hour before Robby got bored and decided ice cream was the cure.

Now, the two of you were sitting on the steps of an apartment building, eating a gallon of ice cream and talking.

You swear, you didn't mean for it to happen, but the way he looked at you with those soft, blue eyes and the smile that could make a nun blush, you found yourself leaning closer.

"I had fun," he spoke quietly, his words dancing over your lips. "Even if I do look ridiculous."

You giggled. "Well, isn't that why we have Halloween? To look ridiculous?"

He shrugged and leaned closer, his eyes searching yours.

"You don't look ridiculous, though," you continued. "I think you look pretty good in a life preserver."

He grinned. "Yeah?"

It was something about the way he said that. The way you could hear the smile in his voice, but most of all, the way he looked at you when he said it. Like he was looking for permission to continue with what was already happening.

So, you answered by leaning in, connecting your lips with his, and giving him all the permission he needed.

His hands instantly flew to your hips, tugging you closer, and you found your own hands wrapping around his neck, deepening the kiss.

It was perfect, just like the movies. You regretted dressing up as Doc Brown, though. Not only was the radiation suit itchy, but you were acting like Jennifer Parker, and you didn't know if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

Still, with the white hair off and his headphones finding their home around his neck, you figured maybe you'd force him to keep that part of the costume because, the way he was looking at you, you didn't want it to end.

You were sure it wouldn't, not any time soon.

[pinescent-and-gingerbread]

hey babe! (if you don't give me a name I'll keep calling you that)

thinking about modern Arthur who takes you horse riding so he can show you what he likes and he just be his normal arthur going all "good girl" and "that's my girl" with his mare and you just go insane for this man because WHY IS HE TALKING TO A HORSE LIKE THAT😭

You can call me babe all you want honey <33 AND FOR GOD'S SAKE. We never talked about it and this blog yet but like MISTER CLARK why did you speak to these horses like they were your fcking partners?? Not that I don't like it... Totally not searching for mares on purpose to hear Arthur praising me... HUM.

Arthur and you had been circling around each other for a while now. A simple customer at your Café at first, you had grown fond of each other as you remembered his habits and likings (always two shots of expresso, black, plus a pile of maple syrup pancakes on mornings, and a hot dog on afternoons). He had begun to come more and more often, always finding some time between his patrols as a Ranger; his steps always bringing him back "unpurposedly" in the area everyday. One thing leading to another, you had shared numbers and started texting, shyly at first than until late at night. Sharing music, dumb photos, witty lines and, when one of you felt bold, flirty ones.

Soon enough, the need for more private time together had imposed itself on you. You were both craving for more, more than just texting, more than just chatting at the Café, in the middle of everyone and every ears of town. Arthur had pushed back all his limits by inviting you to his family ranch. He was eager to share his passion with you.

A hand on your hip, he helped you jump on the saddle of his mare, a beautiful ginger-colored creature named Boadicea. Your hands were uncertain as you hold the reins; it had been a while since you'd last been horse riding. But your anxiety stops all of a sudden when Arthur cooed unexpectedly, sending an odd shiver all the long of your back:

"Yeah, that's a good girl."

Your heart jumped at his words. Not only because of them but the way he had spoken. His voice was even lower and deeper than usual, the rough edges of it diving dangerously into the dreamiest parts of your psyche.

You blinked a few times, realizing as he was patting his mare's head that he had praised her, not you. The first seconds of surprise passed, you actually found it quite endearing. He looked like she really was everything to him; gaze filled with love. You could see those sweet little glittering fireflies in the depth of his eyes when he looked at her. Like when someone looks at what is the most precious thing on Earth to them. Or those tiny sparkles of joy and excitement when they talk to you about their favorite subject, on the verge of shedding a tear. It was pure and utter affection. How could a man taking such good care of an animal could be a bad one? There was something about all his behavior and his relationship with his mare that made you feel even more safe around him, and even more persuaded he was the softest and sweetest of men.

The afternoon passed wonderfully. Arthur never missed any occasion to put his hands on you: helping you getting down or on the saddle, showing you how to hold the reins better, how to position your back the right way... You didn't know if he was doing it on purpose, but you clearly would not complain about it.

Of course, the day ended with a long time spent grooming Boadicea. Arthur had everything needed for her, a huge box filled with a dozen brushes and at least five different types of treats. He gently showed you how to tend her mane while he fed her, letting out once again his low and loving praising:

"Thaaat's ma girl. Yeah, the best girl in the world. Who did real' good, today? Yeah, that's you! That's you, sugar!"

The good girl in question was in Paradise, weighing happily as an answer to his praise, mouth hungrily devouring the treats he was giving her.

You couldn't help yourself and chuckle slightly. Both because it was really cute, seeing Arthur like this, and because something inside you was loving to hear his voice whispering sweet things like he did, even if it was not for you. You knew, you really knew it wasn't. But God did it felt good to hear. Your heart and, you had to admit, your body was craving to hear it again.

"Wha'? You think I'm a fool, don't ya?" He asked you when he heard your little laugh. Your eyes landed on each other's face, and you noticed his cheeks had turned a tad crimson as one of his hands was scratching his neck, his embarrassment apparent and making him even more adorable than before.

"No! Not at all..." A slight grin curled your lips upward. You couldn't miss an occasion for more teasing. "I just didn't know you loved Boadicea that much..."

Arthur laughed frankly and something in your brain turned the whole World into a Paradise when you noticed that his eyes were filled with sparkles. The sparkles. The same glimmers as earlier. The deepest affection, for you, just for you, even if just for a second. His blue pupils are drawn in it, and covering you with it, dragging you in this pure joy with it.

"You jealous or somethin'?" He asks you, his chest still slightly vibrating with the end of his laugh.

"Maybe, who knows..."

"Oh, well I could call you a "good girl" too all you want, darlin'."

The cheeky bastard had emphasized it on purpose, you knew it. This time, he was the one grinning and you, the one blushing. Your ego begging you not to go any further on that road yet, you tried your best to stay cool and composed whereas it was absolute chaos in your chest and between your thighs.

"Yeah, well, don't get too cocky about it." You simply answered, trying to stay evasive about the matter. But the beautiful red sunset painting your face was displaying for his desirous eyes was betraying you.

"Yes, Ma'am!"

Arthur's grin stayed glued to his face until the very last moment you saw him. You didn't know, at the time, but a very long series of praising and sensual whispering was about to begin on that precise day.

[fictionally-driven]

Uncovering Scars

Pairing: Jiyan x gn! reader Word count: 1130 Trigger Warnings: Injuries, Scars, implied relationship. Plot: This ask.

The infirmary was abuzz with activity, medics rushing between beds, attending to the wounded. Jiyan's heart pounded as he pushed through the chaos, his eyes scanning the room for a familiar face. He had received word that (Y/N)'s patrol had been ambushed by Tacet Discords, and the anxiety gnawing at his insides refused to abate until he saw them for himself.

Finally, he spotted them, sitting on the edge of a bed. Relief washed over him as he hurried to their side, his usually stoic demeanor cracking to reveal the worry he felt. "(Y/N)," he breathed. "Are you alright?"

“Jiyan!” (Y/N) looked up, their eyes meeting his with a reassuring smile. "I'm alright. Just a few cuts and abrasions, nothing serious."

Jiyan's keen eyes quickly assessed their state. They were indeed a bit battered, their hair disheveled and streaked with dust and grime. Small wounds and cuts marked their skin, and their armor and uniform were torn in places, evidence of the fierce battle they had faced. They were right; the injuries seemed superficial. Still, the sight of their usually composed form in such a disheveled state tugged at his heart.

"You had me worried," he said, his voice a low rumble. "When I heard about the ambush..."

(Y/N) reached out, placing their hand on his arm. "I'm okay. We fought them off and I am alright. I can patch myself up too. But the medics insisted that they examine me once.”

Jiyan's eyes softened at their touch, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. He placed his hand over theirs, his grip gentle yet firm. "I'm glad you're safe," he murmured, his gaze lingering on their face for a moment longer.

(Y/N) smiled, squeezing his arm reassuringly. "I promise, I'm alright. A bit sore, but nothing I can't handle."

Jiyan placed his hand over theirs, his touch gentle but firm. "Let them do their job," he said softly. "It's important to be thorough."

(Y/N) nodded, a small smile playing on their lips. "You always were a stickler for protocol," they teased, trying to lighten the mood.

Jiyan's eyes softened, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Someone has to be."

Jiyan's eyes roved over their injuries once more, his worry not entirely abated. His attention was drawn to their shoulder, where a significant portion of the sleeve had been ripped away, exposing a deep, jagged scar that stood out against their skin. His breath caught for a moment as he took in the sight, a multitude of questions flooding his mind. It was a mark that seemed to go beyond the exposed flesh, hinting at a story untold.

(Y/N) noticed his gaze and instinctively moved to cover the scar, their eyes flickering with discomfort and vulnerability. "It's nothing," they murmured, their voice softer, almost defensive. "Just an old wound."

Jiyan gently took their hand, stopping them from hiding the scar. "You don't have to hide it from me," he said quietly, his tone filled with understanding. "Every scar has a story, and every story is a part of who we are."

(Y/N) looked at him, their eyes searching his face for a moment before they sighed, letting their hand drop. "It's from a long time ago," they admitted. "Before I joined the Midnight Rangers. It’s not something I talk about much."

Jiyan nodded, his grip on their hand tightening just slightly in a show of silent support. "You don't have to tell me if you're not ready. Just know that I'm here, and you don't have to hide anything from me."

(Y/N) laughed softly, a tinge of self-consciousness lingering in their eyes as they attempted to dismiss the scar's significance. "It's quite ugly to look at, isn't it?" Their hand moved instinctively to cover the scar, a gesture of vulnerability Jiyan couldn't ignore. Sensing their need for security, he allowed them the comfort of concealment, his own heart aching at their discomfort.

"No," Jiyan countered gently, his voice a soothing murmur. "It's not ugly. I was just taken aback because I didn't know you'd been injured to that extent before. It must have been painful."

Drawing closer, Jiyan enveloped them in his embrace, he felt their arms encircling his waist. He could sense the tension in their body begin to ease, their form melting into his as they sought solace in his presence. It was a tender moment, one where words were unnecessary, their shared connection speaking volumes.

The infirmary noise seemed to fade into the background as they stood there, taking solace in each other's presence. (Y/N) took a few deep breaths, their head resting gently against his abdomen. The steady rhythm of Jiyan's heartbeat was a soothing reminder of his unwavering presence. "Does the scar change the way you see me?" they asked quietly, their voice tinged with uncertainty.

Jiyan's touch was gentle as he lowered himself slightly, his hand coming to rest on their shoulder. "Yes and no," he responded, his voice a comforting whisper. "I love you no matter what, and that's never going to change. The scar only deepens my respect for you because it's a mark of your strength and resilience. You have fought battles that I am unaware of in your past and you have prevailed, (Y/N). But you don't have to face your battles alone anymore. I'm here for you, always ready to listen... about anything at all, really. I am here to listen and support you by any means possible."

Looking up at him, (Y/N)'s eyes sparkled with a newfound warmth. "Even if I go on and on about fictional men that I'm obsessed with?" they teased, their smile returning in full force.

Jiyan's rare smile bloomed in response, his heart swelling with affection. Bending down further, he pressed a tender kiss against the scar, his lips brushing against their skin with the softest of touches. "Even then," he murmured against their shoulder, his breath warm against their skin. "Though I might wonder every now and then on how I can surpass these fictional men."

Their laughter filled the air, a sweet melody that danced between them, dispelling the remnants of tension and uncertainty. Resting their head against his chest, (Y/N) wrapped their arms more tightly around him, pressing closer. "You're more than enough, Jiyan."

Jiyan's heart swelled at their words. In this moment, the weight of his responsibilities and the burdens he carried felt lighter. He rested his chin atop their head, closing his eyes and savoring the peace that their embrace brought him. The world outside the infirmary walls seemed distant and unimportant compared to this moment that they shared. In each other's presence, they found a quiet strength, a reassurance that no matter what storms lay ahead, they would face them together, scars and all.

WuWa Masterlist

[underdark-dreams]

[Poll results]

A smut piece for Rolan that became a 7k word fic. I don't know what it is about him--I just need him to be happy. 🖤 For anyone else who feels the same!

In Amber

Rolan can't remember what made him this way. Bitter, insufferable. He only knows he wants things with her to be different. A series of encounters between Rolan and the person who is teaching his black heart how to hope.

Tags: Fem Unnamed Tav, Explicit Sexual Content, Mild Hurt/Comfort | Word Count: 7,033 [Read on AO3]

The beloved hero of the Grove has saved them all from the Shadow Curse, apparently.

Word spreads fast, and it's all Rolan hears the Harpers talking about in their rush to take final leave of Last Light Inn. Nearly all had gone to Moonrise Towers with the Druid, but a small group stayed behind with Isobel in case the fight turned to the worst.

Rolan was the first one packed. With the shadows lifting, all he wants to do is travel the road to Baldur's Gate and finally reach his destiny. Leave this hollow place behind him.

At last they are finally moving in the right direction again--the three of them along with Lakrissa and Alfira, led by the Harper rangers.

He glances at Cal and Lia walking beside him. They're in the middle of chatting about the first things they want to do when they reach the lower city. Rolan can't seem to stop checking that they’re still there–as if he might look to find them gone once more.

He hasn't seen their savior since the night she brought his siblings back to him. That made twice now that she'd saved all three of their lives. Few things bristled against his nature more than owing a debt that couldn't be repaid. Rolan didn't like the feeling of being under anyone's thumb.

She wouldn't even accept a reward for saving his brother and sister's lives, just waved him away with a smile on her lips. The memory frustrated him endlessly. He couldn't understand why she took such an interest in helping him and his family. He was even beginning to consider that goodness of heart might really exist…at least when it came to hers.

Half of his mind felt tormented by her inscrutable kindness. The other half thought he'd very much like to kiss her.

Before he could brush away the alarming idea, the Harpers in front threw up a cheer. Rolan looked around to see the commotion.

She and her companions were covered in more blood than he'd seen on them yet, but they were still standing as they led their small army down the path from Moonrise Towers. 

His eyes light automatically to her face–it shines with a radiant smile, but Rolan recognizes the way her shoulders slump under her armor. He is flooded with relief. At least she's alive. 

Their groups converge on the road outside the tower. Everything is a jumble of cheers and shouts as the Harpers jostle forward to reunite with their comrades; a man he's never met claps Rolan’s shoulder hard enough to make him wince.

"Go on, then," says Lia beside him. She's following his gaze knowingly. "While you've got a chance."

He only manages to throw his sister a scowl before she trots away. Is it that obvious?

He decides to take her advice after all. She was right that this could very well be the final time their paths converged. Baldur's Gate was a large city, and whatever grand adventures their savior would face next, he doubted they would involve spending much time browsing magical emporiums.

She gave him a little wave as he approached, the kind one might give an old friend. It pricked his conscience. He'd thanked her for saving Cal and Lia, true, but his mind tossed up all the countless other times he'd been needlessly unpleasant toward her. 

"Seems we owe you thanks yet again," he said, hoping it came off sincere. 

She shook her head wryly. "I've never done any of it alone, you know that. Every one of these people fought like hells in there." 

Standing close, his nose was hit by the thick tang of blood that coated on her armor. How much of it was hers?

"You should go to see Isobel," Rolan insisted. He'd drag her straight to the cleric himself, if she'd let him.

"Do I look that bad?" She was teasing, but there was a strain to it. "As long as I make it to my bedroll in the next hour, I'll be fine. You're sweet to worry, though."

"Stop saying things like that," Rolan snapped, unable to contain himself. "You're so nice, and I'm just a bastard."

Her eyes widened at him, taken aback. "I don't think you're a bastard."

Rolan looked down at his hands. "That's what makes you so nice," he said. He had to get to the point. "Look…I know I haven't been the easiest person to get along with. I've been rude and awful, ever since the Grove, and you didn't deserve it. So." He straightened up properly. "I'm sorry for that."

It's far less eloquent than he'd rehearsed, but she seems to understand the sentiment.

"Don’t worry about it," she tells him. "You feel responsibility for the people you love. That can make anyone forget themselves for a while." 

"I suppose," is all he can manage to say. How well she seems to speak what's in his mind.

Her Githyanki companion approaches with a clear intention to speak with her, and Rolan turns away, not wanting to intrude on the company of her true friends.

"Rolan, wait–" 

The flutter in his stomach humiliates him. Will he ever get used to her saying his name?

She rummages in the pack at her waist. "Almost forgot. I found something–well, stole, but it doesn't matter now." 

A fist is held out to him, closed around something. 

Uncertain what to expect, Rolan offers his hand. Her fingers graze softly against his as they deposit something small and hard. He looks down at his palm.

"A rock," he says, deadpan.

"Not just any rock, it's a topaz."

Rolan blinks at her. "And…what am I supposed to do with this, exactly?"

"I don't know," she shrugs. "Keep it, or don't. It just made me think of you. Matches your eyes." The admission brought a flush of pink to her cheeks. 

He felt his heart skip at the sight, followed by a jolt of fear–as if she might be able to see the hope blooming inside his chest.

He turns away with a tut. "Absurd."

She gave only a satisfied laugh before taking her leave. Once she'd retreated out of sight, he tucked the gem securely into the folds of his robe.

-

Rolan has long abandoned the fantasy that he is his master's apprentice. 

Whipping boy would be a more accurate job description. Perhaps test subject. He is trapped in an impossible game that he can never win, and his highest purpose is to be the canvas where Lorroakan paints his next magical experiment. 

His mind shudders at the way the red wizard's eyes rest on him during "lessons": casually devoid of all concern or care. No matter how hard Rolan concentrates, no matter what he answers, it won't be good enough. And then the pain will follow. 

The mindless Constructs are worth far more to his master than he is. 

There was a time when someone made Rolan feel like he could deserve more, but that time is gone now. All he can hope is to learn enough, train hard enough, and one day claw his way through to something better.

Today, however, will offer the chance of a reprieve. He's been sent to deliver a message on foot across the lower city. Weeks ago he would've seen the task as an insult. Now he wonders whether it might take all morning, if he's lucky. 

If he often feels like a drowning man, these moments of escape are like a sweet gasp of air. He walks with his face tilted up to soak in the sun's warmth. 

The marks of abuse that paint his features have long stopped troubling him. An occasional passerby might stare at the bruises, but since the Absolute army's march, most Baldurians give Tieflings a wide enough berth not to notice. One wearing fine robes is no different to them.

As he passes the bridge to the Counting House, his eyes land on her figure. He stops short in surprise, earning himself a rude remark about clumsy devils from the woman behind him.

Rolan would recognize her face in any crowd. She stood on the bridge in the middle of some kind of confrontation between two women; one of them a beggar, by the state of her, the other finely dressed.

As he watches he very clearly sees her invite the rich one to "piss off", to the woman's indignation.

An affectionate chuckle escapes him. Then he winces, hand rising to the cracked skin on his lip. He tastes a drop of blood.

Swift panic grips his chest. She can't fucking see him like this, not once–more broken and pathetic than ever. Not after how many times she's already played rescuer to him. He cringes in shame at the thought.

At least she hasn't found him trapped behind his desk, there's a chance he can slip away unnoticed yet–

"Rolan?" 

He missed his moment by a hair. It's unfortunate that hearing her voice after all this time freezes him straight to the cobblestones, or he might consider dashing away like a coward.

"I thought that was you! I'd recognize those horns anywhere." 

Resigned, he turns back toward her. But he keeps his face cast down toward the pavement.

"What do you want?" He asks stiffly.

"Hello to you too," she laughs, and he stifles the impulse to watch her do so. "It's been a while. Cal and Lia, they're good?"

"Thanks to you," he concedes. No thanks to me.

"I'm glad to hear it." He watches her boots step closer, tentative. "Everything okay with you?"

She can never just leave him alone, can she. Why does she insist on caring when so many others don't bother?

"Fine, busy with my studies," Rolan deflects. "I've got to get back to the Sundries."

There's a tight pause, and then her voice grows firm. "Look at me."

He curses himself for being unable to disregard her, and for his eyes wanting to take her in despite everything. Slowly, he raises his head to meet her gaze.

Her face is somehow lovelier than he remembered. As he watches, it shatters in shock. He can see her eyes flit from mark to mark as if taking inventory.

"Who did this to you?" She whispers, aghast.

He turns away, unable to hold her gaze. "Believe me, it's nothing that can be helped."

"Rolan–" Her hand extends toward his jaw.

If the thought of her touch thrills him, the thought of being touched by her with pity is unbearable.

"I don't need your help," he spits, slapping the hand away with his own. "And I certainly don't need your damned sympathy!"

The shock and hurt on her face are the last things Rolan sees before he turns on his heel.

-

The archwizard was not pleased with his late return. That night, Rolan comes home with a large fresh bloom of purple over his left eye.

Lia's already limited patience snaps. She flies into his face with angry tears and threats that she'll march straight into Lorroakan's tower herself with shortsword in hand. Cal stands between them, pleading for peace, eyes wide and sad.

"Enough," Rolan orders them both. "Don't you see we're nothing but hellspawn refugees to these people? My position is the only thing keeping us under this roof, the only thing." 

He doesn't stop Lia as she storms out–she didn’t take her sword with her. The door rattles on its hinges as it slams behind her. He pushes wordlessly past Cal to his room, and collapses in a heap against his bed pillows.

His face aches enough that he knows sleep won’t come easy tonight. One hand reaches into the robe at his chest, and he slowly pulls out the small amber stone. His fingers turn it over and over as he closes his eyes once more to escape into imagining.

In some other world, he could've been the one powerful enough to save and protect her. Even be the person who makes her smile. 

He would not be the pathetic, broken man that he is. He could feel worthy to return her tender touches with his own, drawing her close to him instead of pushing her away. Feel her lips on his own…her hands circling his shoulders… 

Rolan rouses himself to stare down at the topaz shining in his palm. He feels his rotten heart crumple. 

He can't remember what made him this way. Bitter, insufferable. He doesn't like the man he is. He wants to be different–he wants things with her to be different. 

The stone grows warm in his fist as he clenches it. She crept deep into his heart a long, long time ago. He'll probably never get the chance to tell her, so he might as well admit it to himself.

And even if he did see her again–what chance did he have that she might feel the same? None. She single-handedly managed to improve every part of his life that she touched. What could he possibly offer her?

In this world, precious little.

-

Lorroakan of Ramazith lay dead on the ground. 

Rolan felt a numb hatred as he stood over his former master, eyes frozen wide in the final shock of death. Months from now the expression might have given him cause to laugh. Today, Rolan can only stare mutely.

One more sick megalomaniac who possessed more power than Rolan could have dreamed of wielding…brought down by his insane, insatiable lust for more. Always always more. For what? In the end, he was just another corpse.

It was she who dispatched him, of course. Why wouldn't it be? 

After all this time, it was perfectly inevitable that she and her friends would be the ones to fly in and deliver him from yet another tragic end. He felt like he was stuck on a wheel going around and around. He couldn't escape her, either in reality or in his own mind.

Rolan comes to himself and looks down at his robes. Blood splatters his front and soaks up to his elbows; a crust of frost coats his boots, from whose spell he can't remember. All at once an overwhelming tiredness soaks into his bones.

The dream of destiny that had carried him here…had it ever existed, really?

He decides to slip away while she's distracted, speaking urgently to one of her companions. Her plans probably extend far outside this room and beyond, but this is where his path reaches a bloody dead end.

He allows himself one last look at her profile before stepping quietly to the portal. He wants only a bath and the release of sleep.

His feet drag along the streets of the lower city as they carry his body home, ignoring any frightened stares at the state of his clothes. Silent as he can, he slips through the front door and down the hall to his room. Cal and Lia's voices carry from the kitchen. He'll face their questions when he wakes. 

In the end, exhaustion and relief overtake him. There will be no more lessons. He falls to bed in a heap and drifts off, still wearing his master's blood on his hands.

-

In retrospect: letting Lia discover him face-down in his bed covered in dried blood was not the smartest decision Rolan had ever made. 

After he'd groggily yelled himself hoarse enough to stop her screams, a sharp pang of conscience drove through him like ice. During the time he thought the two of them were lost to the Shadowlands, he wanted nothing more than to drink himself to an early death.

He never wanted either of them to feel that emptiness. For once, he let Lia hold him tight without protest.

With a few days' rest, and some of Cal's better efforts in the kitchen to date, Rolan's spirits had rallied sufficiently that he felt well enough to leave the house. Even to attempt a cautious return to his place of employment. 

To his surprise and distinct confusion, no one at Sorcerous Sundries had a thing to say about Lorroakan's disappearance, or about any possible employee involvement. 

If anything, the mood around the shop was noticeably lighter. He even caught Tolna humming a soft little tune to her bookshelves. “The tomes never respected him, you know,” she whispered to Rolan.

And once he got over the bizarre sight of Lorroakan's projection, hovering with a vacant smile behind his former desk, he found a perverse humor in it. Who was the fucking errand boy now?

Most of all, Rolan found himself free to finally do what he came to this place for: study magic. He had no archmage master, but he was intelligent, and he now had free access to all of the tomes in the tower library that Lorroakan had enjoyed dangling under his nose.

These days he preferred to spend his days alone in the upstairs, absorbed in theory and practice. His skills grew, and so did his confidence in himself.

If he also felt drawn to the spot because it was the last place he'd seen her…well, he was far too late on that score. He could've finally confessed the feelings that had long been bursting through his chest. 

Instead he had slunk away in silence, too scared to stand in front of her and admit how misguided he'd been all this time. She must think very little of him. She probably didn't think of him at all.

Who knew if she was even still in Baldur's Gate? He searched every face he encountered on the streets, hoping for an answer. It had become a reflex.

At the end of another day, he trudged alone across the twilight square. His hands ached from practicing the gestures for elemental conjurement over and over. One of the Steel Watchers clomped mindlessly past, looking about like Rolan felt. 

The thought of going home filled him with weariness. Cal and Lia's cheerful bickering always annoyed him, in an affectionate way. But tonight, he truly felt he might not be up to it. 

He felt sad. Lonely.

Glancing up, he found that his legs had carried him to the steps of the Elfsong. A drink…that would soothe his sorrows for an hour or two, at least.

The doors swung open to usher a wave of stimulation over his senses. Warm firelight, the smell of roasting venison, tables packed with conversation and clinking glasses. 

He was grateful that many others seemed to have had the same idea this particular night. It made it easier to slip through the crowded taproom unnoticed, catching meaningless slices of gossip and flirtatious banter on his way to the bar.

The surly bartender didn't look overjoyed to be serving a Tiefling. He took Rolan's gold without comment, however, and left him alone with his wine.

As the alcohol spread a welcome relaxation through his limbs, Rolan passed the time by idly watching the groups around him. 

A halfling sat alone with shoulders slumped, staring down his tankard as if he wished to drown in it. Across the way, a large bearded man was leaning across the table in open pursuit of his female companion. Clearly getting nowhere, from her expression. But he looked far too drunk to notice.

In front of the great hall fireplace, a pale elf sat in conversation with a pretty dark-haired young woman. 

Rolan's brow furrowed; he knew those two. His eyes quickly scanned over the room's faces until he found her.

She was removed a ways from her usual traveling companions, seated at a small table in the far corner. He watched her swirl the cup in her hand idly. Her eyes followed the liquid’s pattern, but the look behind them was leagues away.

For the first time in days, Rolan felt his heavy heart lift. She was exactly the person he wanted to be with tonight. Even if it was just sharing a drink.

This was it, he told himself. He had to speak with her or he'd regret it the rest of his life.

But first–he knocked back a very large mouthful.

His heart pounded in his ears as he drew closer to her. With each step he expected she might look up, piercing him with those eyes that visited most of his dreams. But she remained transfixed by the wine even when he drew up beside her table.

Improvising, he cleared his throat. "Hello."

She glanced up at him in pleasant surprise. "Oh!"

They stared at each other for an awkward silence. Then, somehow, he found himself laughing with her.

"Sorry, it's so strange. I was just thinking about you," she said, her face brightening.

The fact that he occupied any space in her brain would consume him later, but he shoved it aside for the moment.

"Mind if I join you?"

She patted the chair next to her. As he sat, he wondered if the spot had been a tactical choice on her part. Their table had a view of the whole room and both exits, yet the wall behind offered a sense of privacy. 

"You're not drinking with your friends tonight," Rolan observed.

"Just taking a little break. We're celebrating another family reunion," she explained, gesturing her glass toward the group around the blazing hearth. 

Rolan looked back over his shoulder. He recognized the one-eyed young man with curling horns, but not the older one whose hand was clasped on his shoulder. Quite clearly father and son to anyone with eyes.

"I'm glad for them," Rolan said. To his surprise, he found he truly meant it. The Absolute had ripped apart so many families in so many ways, including his, leaving the lower streets flooded with the hopeless and broken and displaced. He counted himself and his siblings incredibly lucky, and it heartened him to see another happy scene among so much misery.

“You know–” She eyed him curiously. "I was hoping I’d see you. You ran off before we could talk that day."

He looked down at his drink. "I know. I've regretted it since then. At the time, it was just…a lot to take in."

Her eyes narrowed, but not at him. "I hope you don't mind me saying, but that man can burn in Avernus for all I care. For what he did to you. For what he tried to do to Aylin."

Rolan recalled the runic circle in Lorroakan's library, the one whose mysterious power had at first awed and enthralled him. And then he'd seen the aasimar with the shining wings, and watched the demented hunger in Lorroakan's eyes, and the horrible realization had run through him like a sickness.

"Lorroakan was a monster," he agreed. "I just wish I'd seen it sooner. Or even found the strength to open my own eyes."

He felt a hand rest on his forearm.

"I saw what you went through to get here,” she said. “It’s natural that you thought you had to see it all through, no matter what.” 

Rolan said nothing for a while, just let her kindness soothe into his chest like a balm.

“On the bright side,” he added suddenly, “He did keep an excellent library. I’ve learned more from one of his books than I ever did from him.”

“That’s because you’re a proper talented wizard,” she laughed. “And he was an idiot.”

“A dead idiot.”

“To that,” she said with a lift of her cup, and they both drank. He noticed she used her free hand, not moving the one that laid on his arm.

When he caught her eye after, she was watching him with a smile. "You look so well, Rolan."

He knew what she meant. The last time she saw him, his face had been dappled in marks and bruises from Lorroakan's brutal instruction, with more that she couldn't see under his robes.

Now, the last mark across his cheekbone had faded almost to nothing. He hoped it would take the memories of the meaningless pain he'd endured along with it.

"Thank you," he said simply. "So do you."

He meant it; he realized now that he'd only ever seen her dressed for combat. Tonight she wore soft hide pants tucked into her hunting boots, a linen shirt half unlaced at her collarbones. It softened her. Close beside him and bathed in firelight, she set his heart racing again.

Perhaps it was her closeness or her touch that gave him the courage, or perhaps it was just the wine. He shifted his arm slightly to capture her hand in his.

"No one else has ever shown me the kindness you have. Not even Cal and Lia, though I do love them." 

She watched him speak in silence, and he gazed back at her, as if the answers to everything might be found in her face. 

"I don't understand you,” he said earnestly. “Why you've kept giving me chances. You've been so much more generous with me than I deserve. I've insulted you, yelled at you, I've been an absolute unbearable prick–"

Before he could think, she leaned in to silence him with her lips.

The kiss lasted forever and only a second all at once. Rolan closed his eyes, breathing in the faint smell of lavender on her skin.

Before he was anywhere near ready, she gently pulled away.

"Because," she murmured, "you're a good man, Rolan. And I like you." Her words, the lingering taste of her on his lips, they made his head spin. He felt like he was watching the door to a new world swing open before his eyes.

Before anything else, Rolan had to kiss her again. He released her hand to smooth the hair back from her face, watching the way she tilted into his touch, and gently guided her toward him.

It was deeper this time; he tasted the heady wine on her mouth, her breath a soft tickle against his cheek. As his fingers tangled her hair, he felt her hand wind sweetly over his shoulder, holding on to him.

A wet stripe flashed across his lips. His mouth gasped open in surprise, allowing her tongue to softly meet his, then draw slowly over his pointed teeth. 

The unexpected sensations brought his mind back to reality, and to the fact that they were in a public place. With effort, he wrenched himself out of the kiss. They breathed against each other for a moment. 

"I've got a room upstairs," she murmured. "If you want to?" Her cheeks were flushed from firelight and wine, and possibly even from him.

Whether or not he wanted to was no question: her words sent a fervent rush of blood to his groin. But first, he mustered enough control to hold her back from him for a moment. Her lips were parted in question.

"I adore you," he said. "I think I have for a long time. It's–very important to me that you know that. Before anything else." Even if the anything else was a dream that had kept him awake more nights than he could count.

Her soft hand cupped his cheek; he thought he might combust if she didn't say something. "Thank Gods," she laughed breathily. "I swore you hated me for a while there."

"I had no idea what to do with my feelings for you, I was a fucking idiot." It was all tumbling out of him now. He opened his mouth to continue, but her fingertips went to his lips.

 "Rolan–" Her voice was full of relief, and he was charmed to see the blush across her face deepen. "I feel the same way. I really, really like you."

His rotten heart could have flipped with joy. 

“Now.” She cocked her head askance, and he felt her fingers twine with his. "Make it up to me?"

Yes. Please, please, yes. He nodded in a daze, reeling like he'd sustained a blow to the head. All he could feel was the elation and anxiety swirling around and around in his stomach as he followed her toward the staircase, let her lead him by the hand like a lovesick idiot.

As they passed her companions he pointedly averted his eyes; he couldn't afford to lose any of the nerve building inside him. He'd need every bit of it in a moment.

The dark staircase seemed to ascend forever. Part of him wanted it to–he was no virgin, but the hand she held tight was shaking with anxiety. He wanted to make this perfect.

Overthinking proved pointless. The moment the heavy door closed behind them, he found himself pinned against it with a thud by the length of her body.

His involuntary groan was lost in their kiss. She was everywhere around him at once: hands pinning his shoulders back against the wood, hips grinding into his thigh with no pretense, her tongue pressing against his lips and slipping past his teeth to taste him. She moaned against his mouth, and the sound reverberated from his head to his feet.

His erection was practically instantaneous. He hooked his thumbs over her hip bones, sharp nails finding purchase in her pants, and rolled himself against the yielding softness between her legs. 

Whatever release the pressure provided multiplied it tenfold. Desire coursed through him, burning in his veins hotter than he thought possible. 

The maneuver brought an approving hum from her throat, however. Encouraged, he ground her into him again, and again, as slowly as his body could be convinced to go.

Her hands released his shoulders to rake upward through his hair, pulling his face toward her.

Pulling him deeper into the room, he realized. He stumbled slightly against something; tasting her lips was infinitely more important than breaking the kiss to look where he was going. He trusted her lead, impatient to reach whatever destination she had in mind so he could freely explore her.

Their connected bodies bumped up against the edge of something soft. She pulled away, and his immediate disappointment rapidly turned around as he felt her fingers fumbling with the clasps of his robe. He guided her hands, struggling at the same time to kick off one boot and then the other. 

As his robes pooled on the floor, her palms pressed him away for a moment.

Rolan stood frozen and panting in his trousers. She licked her kiss-swollen lips as she looked over his bare shoulders, his chest. When her eyes reached the obvious hardness straining in his pants, she let out a delicious sound.

Rolan's hands grabbed for her of their own volition. They slipped under the hem of her shirt, against the bare skin of her waist, and wrenched the garment up over her head in one motion.

To look at her directly was almost too much–he felt love and desire churning together inside of him. "Beautiful," was all he could say.

He buried his face in her shoulder instead, fang-like teeth brushing over her skin as he left a trail of kisses along the curve of her neck. She let out a gasp when his hand gently stroked her breast.

"You're so warm," she murmured into his hair. To him, she was pleasantly cool; he shivered when her fingers traced the small set of ridges that ran from his collarbone to his sternum.

But he needed more of her. He hooked both thumbs over her waistband and tugged ineffectually. She quickly took over, shucking them off with a shimmying motion.

The sight of her bare, for him, was almost enough to make Rolan come then and there. He reached out to her hips to steady himself. She was so much more divine than anything his paltry imagination could have conjured.

Through his blazing arousal, he was barely aware of the hands unlacing his pants until she tugged them down to finally let his cock spring free.

A sigh of relief escaped him. He watched her take him in, her eyes half-lidded with arousal. 

"You're incredible," she whispered. Then her arms slid around his neck, pulling him down into a kiss.

He tried to concentrate on her mouth, but the way his cock brushed and nudged against her skin every time she moved was taking over his brain.

With a motion of her hips, she captured his length between her thighs and rocked forward and back, sliding her dripping wet center over his cock. The revelation of her own state of desire sent his mind spiraling with want.

Rolan let out what could only be called a whimper. He clutched her to him, capturing her bottom lip between his teeth as firmly as he dared, as if she might suddenly disappear and leave him in an aching pile.

She made a pleased sound, then gave his shoulders a push. With his pants still around his thighs, he lost his balance–knees buckled as he fell backwards onto the mattress behind them.

He propped himself up on his elbows just in time to see her kneel on the floor in front of him. Her two hands pushed his knees apart, as far as the straining fabric would allow–

Rolan tried and failed to breathe normally, heart pounding in his ears. It felt like time was slowing to a crawl. Her eyes glanced from his face to the stiff erection between them. A droplet of moisture shone at its tip.

"Can I–?" She was asking him for permission, hands poised on his thighs, her expression heady with arousal.

"Anything," Rolan swore, and he meant it. She could do whatever the fuck she wanted to him right now. Before he could prepare himself, her mouth closed wetly around his tip. 

Truly, nothing could have readied him. He let out a gasp–his head dropped back as his hips rose involuntarily to seek more of her soft, cool mouth. 

He had scarcely adjusted before she took him in further, sliding her tongue down along his length to his very base–then slowly, achingly slowly, back up again.

He heard the rip of fabric as his nails gripped the bedding. He gathered the will to raise his head up to look.

Rolan was mesmerized by the sight of her lips wrapped around taught red skin, his length disappearing into her mouth and returning wet with saliva. She was working him over almost reverently slow, eyes closed as if tasting him.

Tasting herself on him. His cock twitched inside her mouth at the realization. She glanced up at him, releasing him from her lips with a soft, wet pop.

He could have groaned at the loss of her. Instead, he used the moment to work off his constraining pants and toss them away. Before she could reach for him again, Rolan pulled her up and onto his lap.

Her knees sank into the bed on either side as she straddled him, but she kept herself hovering well above him without contact. He pushed aside the ache between his legs to focus on more important things.

He leaned forward to press a soft kiss between her breasts, allowed his mouth to explore. She sighed with pleasure as he alternately licked and kissed across each curve, then drew sharp breath as his teeth sucked at the soft flesh under one breast. 

Her hands, at first resting on his shoulders, flew to grab two fistfuls of his hair. The sensation sent a shiver down his spine.

Rolan pulled away for a moment for admire the purple mark blooming on her breast. He glanced up as though looking for approval. She gave it, tugging his hair to tilt his face into a waiting kiss.

Ever so carefully…mindful of his fingertips, he placed the flat of his palm on the heat between her legs.

“Rolan–” she gasped, breaking away. 

The sound of his own name had never been dearer to him. He was run through with a thrill, and a fervent desire to do whatever it took to make her say it again.

  He massaged gentle circles into her, the base of his palm pressing against her clit in slow rhythm. Her wetness coated him with each stroke. She quaked under his touch, eyelashes fluttering, and his other arm circled her back to support her. He felt her lean against him without a second thought. Trusting completely.

“I can’t believe I have you,” he heard his voice say, perhaps to himself. 

As he spoke he felt the core of her tightening under his hand. Abruptly, her fingers closed around his wrist to still his ministrations. He froze, immediately afraid he had scratched her somehow. But her face shone with nothing but desire for him.

"On your back," she directed.

Rolan nearly pinched his tail under himself in his haste to obey. He swept his legs out from between hers and stretched out as she climbed over to straddle him. 

Now they were finally here, she wasted no time leaving space between them. Her hips rolled down onto him and drew the wet folds of her center across his tip. His entire length throbbed at the blessed return of her touch, the head of his cock burning against her. 

Smoothly, simply, she lowered herself onto him.

The shuddering exhale from his lips met against her moan of relief. Rolan willed himself to keep his eyes on hers, even as her inviting walls gripped him, even as he practically felt his pupils dilate with want. Her features relaxed into a state of pure, unadulterated satisfaction.

Then she started to move her hips.

She pushed her palms against his chest for leverage, riding his cock at a steady pace that felt entirely too slow. Whatever will he had to follow her lead was immediately tested; he was overcome with the need to touch her everywhere at once. 

Care forgotten, he gripped the soft flesh of her back with his fingertips. She cried out softly as his nails dragged from her shoulders to the base of her hips, but he felt her walls clench around him in response. His tail curled up and around her waist of its own volition, holding her as she took him in further with each bounce of her hips.

She gasped and fell over him, hands braced on either side. She was already losing control. He felt his own release closing in, used the new angle of her hips to thrust up into her. 

“Oh, Gods, yes–” Her mouth dropped open. She moved her hips back with each of his thrusts to take him more deeply. 

Rolan thought he might shatter apart. Waves of searing desire swept harder and harder through him. She took him so perfectly, his cock almost painfully gripped by her tightening walls, so wet and lush and sweet and for him–

A hand flew up to the back of her neck to grasp and to pull her down so he could taste her as he came. Lips crashed together frantically as the pace of their bodies started coming apart at the seams. 

In one bright concentrated moment, she shook and trembled violently into him as she grasped for whatever part of him she could reach. He managed one last stuttering thrust before his climax was ripped from him by her own, spilling inside of her clenching center, hurling him outside himself and into the wide Astral plane.

They shuddered against each others' bodies as white-hot waves receded outward farther and farther. Her head dropped to his shoulder as though she'd lost all muscle control. 

He felt her slowing breaths fan out across his chest, and he rested a hand on the back of her head to keep her there.

-

As Rolan stared up at the wood-paneled ceiling above them, something cold dripped down at the base of him. He realized he was still inside of her. He swung his free arm over the side of the bed–still woozy enough from his climax that he nearly slid head-first to the floor–and snatched up his rumpled robes to clean them both.

She rolled off him then and cuddled up on her side to watch him. He mirrored her pose, adjusting against the pillows to make a spot for his horns. One of her fingers found the point of his ear and began tracing.

“How do you feel?” She asked. 

Rolan sighed deeply. “Happy.” He could cast around for another dozen words, but he’d rather take her in. He smoothed a hand up and down along the curve of her side.

“So do I.” She leaned over to spread light kisses along his lips, then his jaw and cheek. His tail brushed against her leg in an idle caress. 

She glanced down. “I didn’t actually know about…that.”

“Am I your first Tiefling?” He teased, though the thought genuinely pleased him.

“First and last,” she replied. The words were instantly locked away in his chest. 

She gave a little shiver then, tucking her body against his warmth. He dug the covers up over themselves and wrapped her up tight with his arms and legs. The simple feeling of holding her brought him a deep sense of calm.

“I love this, Rolan.” Her lips moved against the hollow at the base of his neck. “I wish I could take tonight and carry it with me everywhere.”

Something sparked in him at her words. He opened his eyes and reluctantly released her to feel around the floor at the floor for his stained robe.

"What are you doing over there?" She lifted her head curiously to peer over the bedside. 

"Just need to find something." He rummaged through his layers of discarded clothing before finally, his knuckle grazed something hard.

He slid back up under the covers beside her. She propped herself up against him, resting a palm on his chest with an expectant look.

He held out his thumb and index finger. Between them, an amber stone glinted in the dim light.

Her mouth fell open in recognition. For one second, he was afraid she might cry.

Then she buried her head in the crook of his neck, wrapping both arms tight around him. "I knew you were a darling all along." 

[tiredfox64]

I had an idea, I don't know how good this sounds but in the beginning of the MK1 story when the Lin Kuei trio attack Madame Bo's restaurant as an act to text Raiden and Kung Lao skills, the reader happens to be there as a traveler who also has fighting skills and fights off Smoke and finds out it's a test by Liu Kang who accepts being one of earthrealm's champions but has a hard time trusting Smoke after what happen and Smoke does everything he can to gain her trust?

Trust Me

Prior notes: Halfway through writing this the Ninja Storm theme song played in my head nonstop. I got distracted for an hour just listening to almost all the Power Rangers theme songs Σ(￣。￣ﾉ)ﾉ

Pairing: Tomas x Afab reader

Warnings ‼️: A few kicks and punches, we got those from our siblings.

You travel high and low, far and wide. The lands must be explored and experienced. Your current location? Fengjian Village in China. Quite a peaceful village actually with farmlands that stretch for many miles. You decided to rest for a moment at the tea house. Madame Bo was really nice to you, happy to have a lovely lady like you come in.

Little did you know that she was expecting you.

Lots of different people and personalities around here. You got a show as well. Two men fighting just to figure out who is paying tonight. It must have been serious because they were fighting for their lives. You can understand since the food was amazing.

The sun had set and the cool breeze blew through the tea house. You were finishing up your meal at the same time those two men were about to. In an instant the atmosphere became hostile. You looked up to see a man with silvery hair and gray attire harassing Madame Bo. You watched carefully, wary of this guy’s intentions. You jumped into action once you saw him attack Madame Bo and literally throw her over the balcony.

His eyes turned to you when he saw you running towards him. You were surprised by the smoke bomb he threw down. It made you cough which gave him the opportunity to attack you, causing you to hit the floor.

“You are brave, but against us? You are in over your head.” He mocked you.

“I don’t care who you are or what your purpose is. You will not be a nuisance to Madame Bo.” You declared before fighting him.

You fought viciously, as anyone would suspect. This guy had a few tricks up his sleeve. Magic that you’ve never seen before. Yet you stood your ground. While you were dealing with him those other two guys were fighting off the other assassins. Oh great there are two more who got some sort of freaky magic. Well at least they are taking care of that.

An amazing spectacle of kicking, punching, and slashing was performed by you and your opponent. After all that you managed to defeat him, leaving him lying on the ground. You moved quickly to check on Madame Bo who was…fine. No, really, she was. Standing up straight and smoking a cigarette like it was a normal Tuesday night. A man with glowing eyes approached you and you finally got the answers you needed.

This was all a test from Lord Liu Kang. You, Raiden, and Kung Lao were chosen to join Earthrealm’s champions. Liu Kang was thankful that you chose to visit Fengjian now since it made things easier.

He explained that the people who attacked were the Lin Kuei and that you fought Tomas aka Smoke. They weren’t thugs but were actually a clan that helped protect Earthrealm. You were still in shock about the whole thing. You couldn’t let your guard down fully even if you now know it was a test.

Liu Kang told you all that the Wu Shi Acadamy will help train you and prepare for the Mortal Kombat tournament. Looks like you will be staying in China for longer than you expected.

══💤══╡°˖✧🦊✧˖°╞══💤══

Ever since Tomas fought you he has been dying to talk to you. He thought you did amazing. He really didn’t know what to expect since you were just a traveler. No one had a clue who trained you or even why you were so good at fighting. You must have been a quick thinker since you manage to figure out he was using smoke magic.

The problem is that you were cold to him. You still didn’t trust him even after finding out it was all a test. He would visit the Wu Shi Academy just to get a chance to talk to you, only for you to move away from him whenever you saw a hint of his silvery hair.

Raiden and Kung Lao told you to not hold it over his head. Madame Bo is safe. Hell, she was even in the Lin Kuei once, she’s a tough woman. Nope, you’re still not budging.

“I don’t understand, Raiden. She still treats me like some thug.” Tomas expresses his frustration to Raiden who wants to help make peace between you two.

“It probably didn’t feel good to her to be tricked like that. It may be best to prove to her that she can trust you.” Raiden gave back the best advice he could give.

“But what can I do if I can’t even get close to her.”

Raiden had to think for a moment. The others such as Kung Lao, Johnny, and Kenshi all came around as well since they heard Tomas’ frustration. They didn’t want him feeling bad about what he did since he was instructed to cause a disturbance at the tea house. They also don’t want you holding a grudge against a sweet and cool guy like Tomas.

“I got it!” Kung Lao snapped his fingers, “How about you train with us for some time. She will see that you aren’t so bad after all especially when she sees how calm you are when fighting us. Maybe giving her a gift once in a while will help as well.”

Not a bad plan. It could work. Tomas was on board with this. He didn’t want you viewing him as some thug anymore. You need to see who he truly is and he will do anything to prove it. Operation make you trust Tomas is a go go!

══💤══╡°˖✧🦊✧˖°╞══💤══

Tomas asked his brother if it was okay to train with the Shaolin for a bit. Bi-Han couldn’t give two fucks where Tomas would be at so he let him do that.

Now you really couldn’t avoid Tomas. Anytime you decided to train with the other champions he was always there. You grew annoyed by his presence. You couldn’t understand why no one else was upset by that trick of a test.

You also couldn’t understand why he was leaving you bunches of lavender and peace lilies. Okay well the peace lilies should have been a big sign but you weren’t the biggest expert on flowers or their meanings. He would leave them at your door, on your chair, he would even have the guys pass you the flowers just to make sure you would accept them.

And after some time you did. It would be a waste if you kept throwing them out. They were lovely and lavender is useful. You didn’t fully trust him yet but his efforts were chipping away at your stubborn heart.

You started watched as he trained with the others. All those fighting moves you saw before when you fought him. The aggression you felt before when seeing those moves slowly started to fade. You watched as he patiently taught the others some tricks on how to defend themselves. Not just that but he was open to being taught as well. The monks taught him new moves and involved him in meditation. Now would a violent person meditate? Nope, because Tomas is not the violent person you think he is.

You realized maybe you were being a bit too harsh when you heard him speak. His voice was less deeper than when you first heard it. It was just an impression anyways. And without his mask on there is no muffle to it. You listened to how disappointed he was, concerned that you still don’t trust him. He expressed that he is doing his best but he fears that you will always see him as the bad guy.

It broke your heart when you realized you misjudged him. He was putting in a lot of effort and you were turning a blind eye to it before. You don’t know how long he will be training with the Wu Shi and you don’t want to regret not saying anything to him. You want to make things right and the best way to do that was to talk to him.

One day you found him near the zen gardens. A place of relaxation and peace. A good atmosphere for something like this. He was meditating all by himself and you were unsure about disturbing him. He already heard your footsteps, you can’t sneak up on a sneaky person. He turned towards you expecting to see someone like Raiden or Johnny. But no, it was actually you. He was shocked and wasn’t sure what you were doing here. You gently waved towards him before speaking.

“Hi…do you mind if I join you?” You asked softly.

Tomas just stared for a good five seconds before breaking out of his trace. “O-oh yeah sure.”

You thanked him before walking closer. You surprised him even more when you described to sit next to him. Both your hearts were beating fast. Yours because you were unsure of what to say and his because of the same thing. You took a few deep breaths before speaking up.

“I’m sorry that I’ve been kind of cold to you. Maybe even been avoiding you. I just kept thinking back to that night at the tea house and I just thought you were the same guy I fought back then.”

You saying sorry was already the highlight of Tomas’ day. Before he can say anything to you, even to apologize for fighting you, you continued.

“You don’t have to apologize for what happened. I understand it was just a test and no one really got hurt. Well, maybe not physically but I did hurt you by being mean.”

You were picking at your fingers as you looked down at your lap. Now you wondered if he thought of you as the bad person. He doesn’t, he never did.

“We got off on the wrong foot and I want to make it right. Maybe you and I can train one of these days if you are willing to spend time with me.”

“Yes! Yes! Of course I would love to.” Tomas got too excited and covered his mouth, not wanting to disturb the tranquility of the garden anymore.

You looked at him all shocked before chuckling quietly. He really was desperate to show you that he is trustworthy. Seeing that it all paid off was too great for him that he had to express it. How could you ever imagine he was some cruel man who purposely beats up old ladies?

Your chuckle made him feel less embarrassed and happy to see you loosen up around him. You seem way chiller than he imagined. He’s excited to get to know you more now. You took his hand into yours and shook it.

“It’s nice to officially meet you, Smoke.”

He smiled at you. The mission was a success. All of this was worth it.

“The pleasure is all mine. But please, call me Tomas.”

After notes: It’s a bad time for me to find out that my favorite show is free on YouTube. Mhm I’m gonna be blasting that good shit on my tv. Anyways I hope you enjoy whoever requested it. I actually thought about this scenario a bit ago but never wrote it down and forgot about it. So looks like you read my mind. Trust me it sounded good to me :3. Adiós!

[nicohischierz]

who's afraid of little old me?: nico x player!reader

tagging: @ivy-34, @francesfarhadi, @hzstry8, @cixrosie, @itsnotgray, @estapa94, @trevs-swiftie, @heartz4hischif you want to join the taglist let me know!!

you stalked the comments under your post, whilst you knew you shouldn't have paid any attention to what was being said, you couldn't help yourself as curiosity got the best of you.

negativity is something everyone would tell you not to pay attention to but it was hard to do so when it was everywhere. it was as if the fans were ready to attack you at any point.

they didn't understand the hard work you put in to make it to the NHL. the blood, sweat and tears that went into ensuring your place in a professional hockey league.

the comments made by fans who didn't appreciate your hiatus were something you expected but after years of enduring such unnecessary hate, their comments only fuelled your want to play better in the season to come.

after giving birth to your daughter, you readied yourself for world championship games and surprised everyone when your name appeared on the list.

your interview was like a record scratch at a party. the interviewers asked about the influx of negativity towards you and you replied "who's afraid of little old me?"

they laughed it off as a joke but in your mind, you knew they should be.

the news of yours and nico's relationship spread like wildfire amongst the hockey community. adding the birth of your child made people question whether you were on the team for your skill or convenience.

whilst both of you were happy to be open about your relationship, you couldn't help but wonder why your name was the only one being tarnished.

"schatz, i will tell all of them to stop what they are saying. they wouldn't be true fans if they think it is okay to bring one of us down," nico promised one night.

you turned to him and smiled, placing a kiss on his lips. "you don't have to worry. it's not anything new,"

not only was your relationship the talk of the summer, but once the season had started paul bisonette made it his life's mission to make snide remarks about you relationship.

the jokes piled up as you played game after game, until one day you couldn't take it anymore. you sat in your apartment, tears streaming down your face as another joke made its way around the internet.

the devils were playing the rangers and body's were being thrown throughout the whole game. whilst you were a person who wasn't afraid to lay a hit, you steered away from fights.

but as a player from the opposing team chirped in your ear every moment he could, you dropped the gloves landing punch after punch until the referees pulled you apart.

in your post-game interview, a reporter asked what prompted you to start the fight and you answered. "I was tame, I was gentle 'til the circus life made me mean. it was about time I reminded everyone why I'm here,"

yourusername

yourusername: who's afraid of little old me?

no matter what you did, it seemed that the media was out to get you. now people were questioning your abilities as a mother as you continued on with your career.

"nico you tell me everything is not about me, but what if it is? every article about the devils has mentioned me in some and you can stand here and tell me that they didn't do it to hurt me," you screamed.

you came back to the season, feistier than before. showing everyone just how disturbed they made you. starting fights whenever and raking up your penalty minutes.

the older guys in the league (sidney crosby, matt martin and brad marchand) had all expressed their concern for the way you were acting and staged an intervention.

during the all-star break, they cornered you in your home and interrogated you about your behaviour. "we know what it's like to have all this media attention so you don't have to fight this on your own," matt prompted

you shrugged his hands off your shoulder and stood up. "all of you can talk about your difficulties but you wouldn't last an hour in the asylum where they raised me. i'm always drunk on my own tears, isn't that what they all say?" you retorted, referring to your post-game interview where your frustrated tears were addressed by everyone.

as the season came to an end, the devils had clinched a playoff spot and you had been scratched the past five games. your behaviour had changed since your talk with sid, matt martin and brad but the three knew the media's words made a lasting impact on you.

so as the devils faced off against the penguins for the first round and reporters asked if you would play the way you have all season you replied, "I am the way I am because of the media. you all act afraid of me when this the a product of the belittling I received upon coming back,"

[tokkishouse]

Can I request playing with tighnari's ears while cuddling and hearing him purr for the first time?🙏

(Sfw) Petting his Ears

Characters: Tighnari x GN!Reader

Warnings: pinch of suggestiveness at the end

WC: ~0.7k words

"Tighnari, don't you have research you wanted to work on?"

"Mn, I do. But that can wait."

The normally dutiful forest ranger has been reduced to a lazy slump today. One to rise with the sun, Tighnari has instead elected to stay in bed with you, laying on top of you with his face buried in your chest. It's not an unwelcome moment of course-- any time you can spend with him is cherished.

Clad in a thin shirt and loose pants, you can feel the warmth of his body against yours, and the familiar hum of vitality that courses through his veins, no doubt a result of his dendro vision. His tail acts like a small blanket, covering your legs in a thick coat of fur.

"You said it was important! That's why you said we couldn't visit Port Ormos to go shopping-- you didn't want to delay for a single moment," you complain.

Tighnari sighs, and you giggle from the ticklish feeling of his breath on your chest.

"We all need a break some days. I've decided to choose today!"

You roll your eyes, bringing your hands up to play with his hair.

"Fine, but don't complain if you get an earful from your fellow rangers!"

You leave it at that, curling strands around your fingers. A comfortable silence fills the room once more as you both relish in each other's company. You glance down, noticing the way Tighnari's ears twitch in front of your face. Out of curiosity, and in a trance, you carefully move your hands up to touch them.

Instantly, Tighnari tenses, and his breath hitches. You jerk your hands back in surprise, glancing down at him. Despite his clear tension, he says nothing, waiting for your next move. Taking his silence as permission, you resume touching his ears, methodically rubbing your fingers along the coarse fur and the smooth inner ear.

As this goes on, the fox-hybrid's body starts to shake, and he presses his face harder against your chest, forcing a gasp out of you. Tighnari's tail curls up tightly, exposing your legs to the bare air, and you feel his clawed hands grip your shirt tightly. A part of you wants to stop, not wanting to make your boyfriend seemingly more uncomfortable, but the other, more teasing side of you, enjoyed seeing him act like this. Embarrassed and like a nervous kit-- it was a sight you didn't see often.

And then you heard it. A soft rumbling sound, accompanied by steady vibrations against your chest. Purring.

You both freeze in place, surprised by this new development. Tighnari can feel his skin get clammy in anxiety as he realizes what he's done. He curses himself mentally-- he hadn't planned on letting that slip out. His attempts to tense his body were futile.

"Y-you didn't hear anything. That wasn't-" Before he can try to defend himself, you're going back to rubbing and petting his ears, cooing in delight. A surprise attack that has him devolving into a cuddly pile as he lets more purrs slip out.

"You're so cute Tighnari~ I can't believe you purr! Why didn't you tell me sooner?" you gush over him, not letting him get a word in edgewise. Not like he could talk even if he wanted to-- your fingers are tactical, brushing over all of the most sensitive spots, turning him into mint jelly.

What normally was a source of agitation when touched by others, was now a weapon of dominance against him, if the rhythmic movements of his tail on the bed were any indication. He feels like a kit, unable to control his more animalistic urges. Perhaps I should've gotten out of bed earlier. I've been reduced to something short of a slime!

He peeks up at you and any thoughts of stopping you dissipate like steam off a flaming flower. Seeing your elated, childlike wonder-filled expression at the new discovery makes him less willing to pull away and scold you for touching his ears. You were just too damn happy about this, and if there's one thing he prioritizes over his dignity, it's your happiness. He sighs and buries his face back into your chest, allowing you to continue unhindered.

He supposes he'll let it slide this time. He just hopes you can take responsibility for the feelings that arise as a result of this intimate moment. It is getting close to that time of the year after all.

I like to think that depending on what vision you have, your body changes/reacts accordingly. After all, years of manipulating the elements have got to change your physiology somehow, right? So for dendro users, they just radiate energy. If you stand next to them, it's like taking a breath of fresh air and feeling invigorated. They feel alive if that makes sense.

Requests (both sfw and nsfw) are open~!

[spacebarbarianweird]

After such beautiful headcanons about Noble!Tav I now must ask about Noble High elf!Tav x Astarion

Did I indulge into reading about noble elven families? I absolutely did.

The Isle of Evermeet - the last true elven Kingdom in Faerun created  −17,600 DR during the First Sundering. In the XIV century DR the island dissapared from Toril and many believed it was destroyed. However, the island was just moved to Feywild. In 1480 DR it returned back during the Second Sundering but it dwells in a state of coexistence between Faerun, the Feywild, and Arvandor MORE INFO

Astarion x Noble Elf!Tav

Masterlist

Headcanons

You are one of Amlaruil Moonflower's many children.

Not too close to the throne, but still the member of the highest nobility.

The wanderlust, so common for young elves, forced you to leave to see the world.

You witnessed the Spellplague and, like many others, thought the Isle was gone along with everything you knew and held dear.

None of the magic portals worked. You were a princess with no kingdom and an elf with no home.

You kept leaving, forgetting everything but your name.

You meet elves like you here and there. But you don't like talking about your royal origin.

No need and no point.

Once you meet Astarion, you can't get rid of the thought you somehow know him.

You are the same age, and there are a few million elves on the Isle but you are sure he isn't from the Isle.

But his face, his surname, and some of his mannerisms are vaguely familiar.

The thing he doesn't remember anything about his past doesn't help.

In your reverie, you search for answers in your long 250 years of life.

Having to see your cruel mother and survive the court intrigues over and over again.

Astarion is bothered by it. He feels like you breach his privacy and you promise not to try it ever again.

But you aren't self-disciplined, and intrusive thoughts drag you through your memories.

Why did Astarion's face look familiar? Who did you think he was?

In the meantime, you travel. You are two elves, you have nowhere to rush.

You help Astarion to reclaim his identity.

He isn't a vampire, he is an elf!

You help him to remember his mother tongue, the True Tongue.

You tell him about the Isle, your royal family and ancestors.

He often mocks you calling you a runaway princess.

"Well, I should be grateful to be turned into a vampire. Otherwise, I would have no chance to approach you, my dear."

"Don't be stupid, we are thiramins. No one would dare to separate us."

That brings him comfort.

Should you die earlier than him, you will reincarnate like all elven souls do.

You will return and you will remember.

You eventually realize that the Isle was returned from the Feywild but what happened to its inhabitants is unclear.

Astarion doesn't want to know anything about it - the one last true kingdom of elves? Where you are a princess? With him, a vampire?

No, absolutely not. He isn't going there.

One day, you enter the reverie and get one of the earliest memories of your life in Faerun,

An elf with long silver curls. A ranger of the deep woods.

Emerald green eyes, pale skin, a grin.

"Dalar Ancunin, at your service, princess," he says in your memories, his voice echoing through the decade.

You remember him. You finally remember him. An elf born from two-half elves, who was blessed and cursed by inheriting his ancestors' features.

"It's funny to be born like that. No one knew what to do with us. So we decided to explore the world on our own and went to Baldur's Gate."

"Us?"

At that moment, Dalar's face darkened.

"We were twins, Astarion and I. He wanted to become a magistrate so he wouldn't have to live in the poverty. And I was too bored with books and studies. We… had an argument. A really bad one. And I left. Twenty years later I decided to reconcile but when I got back I only found his grave."

"I am sorry."

"The grave was empty. My brother wasn't there. And I am still looking for him. I don't know, it's been so long… But I just can't give up on him. Again."

Dalar.

You weren't close friends but you'd been in each other's life for a decade before parting ways. Members of the same adventure guild You suddenly remember his songs and his stories and how he called himself "a bastard elf". How he could literally foster any animals or beast they met on the way.

And he had a pet drake he called Nikym. "Dagger" in Elven.

You return from the reverie and look at Astarion with shocked eyes.

Astarion doesn't want to remember. Too much pain, too much sorrow- it seems like his brain just locked memories of his youth not to let Cazador learn of Dalar.

And you start talking. You try to remember every minute you spend with your old friend. What he liked, what he hated. How you sometimes woke up because Nikym was trying to eat your hair or how Dalar could shoot arrows with a blindfold.

You need to find him. If he is alive, if didn't leave Toril to try to live among the elves.

He must be there. Maybe he settled down somewhere, maybe he started a family.

How many decades will you need to catch his track though?

And Astarion doesn't have anyone else. Dalar said they were all half-elves (except for some long-forgotten ancestors). His family is long-dead.

Once you reached for your old friends they immediately pointed out where to look for Dalar.

"Always adventurer, always a traveler."

Astarion still hesitates, but, before he manages to say "no", you find what you wanted.

"The princess Moonflower in all her runaway glory! What does a royalty do in that wild place in the deep the night?"

You try to find the right words. To explain, to prepare. But Astarion has already stepped forward, staring into his mortal copy in disbelief.

You give them time.

Before Astarion manages to say anything or run away, Dalar Ancunin grabs him and hugs him.

They are different. A mortal and undead, a ranger and a rogue.

But similar at the same time.

You are a bit jealous because you got used to having Astarion all for yourself and now you have to share him with his brother.

But you get used to it. Besides, Dalar is your old friend,though forgotten for many decades.

And the drake, Nykim, accepts you both.

"I remember" Astarion once tells you. "I finally remember everything. My childhood, my youth, my death. My brother was searching for me and I just forgot about his existence."

A decade later, you three find yourself on the seacoast of the Trackless Sea.

Time to go home.

Whatever future you hold, it's there, in the distant Isle of Evermeet.

You notice both brothers are equally anxious. It will be difficult to lie about their origin and one of them is a literal vampire.

But you are adamant - you are in your own right to bring anyone along with you.

Astarion is your true love, your thiramin.

And his brother is his only family.

Both Ancunin brothers are coming with you.

For better or for worse.

--

Tag list

@tugoslovenka @marcynomercy @wintersire @vixstarria @not-so-lost-after-all @ashiro20 @theearthsfinalconfession @herstxrgirl @starlight-ipomoea @micropoe10 @astarion-imagine-archive @veillsar @elora-the-slutty-songstress @fayeriess @lumienyx @tallymonster @caitlincat-95 @tragedybunny @valeprati @lynnlovesthestars @marina-and-the-memes @waking-electric @ayselluna @connorsui @asterordinary @darkarchangel96

[toptophat]

2.6 thoughts!!!!

Spoilers for anyone who hasn't finished it yet!

It was a freaking blast, a rollercoaster of emotions, I honestly thought that Mr Reca, with how cuckoo he was in the trailer, was gonna be the antagonist, turns out he's a quirky memokeeper (who may still have his motives but for now he was definitely an ally) I guess, much like the galaxy rangers, there is no uniform, because I honestly thought they all would have some resemblance to Black Swan, but I can't wait to see more memokeepers, as well as more galaxy rangers

Speaking of galaxy rangers, ok!! Rappa and Boothill were the real protagonists here!!!! Poor trailblazer became a side character to these two champions and I love it!!! I've already made it clear that I adored Rappa from the moment her drip marketing dropped, I initially found her strange way of referring to everything as ninja stuff hilarious and quirky, I thought "are all galaxy rangers gonna talk funny?" But that was my first impression, now I wanna [forking] cry!!! I was already skeptical of this "Master Kucha" from the way he spoke! I didn't know that he was basically like the only parental figure she had, she's one of Dr Primitive's (Evil Ninja Osaru) test subjects in a hidden lab (Ninja capital) having to undergo harmful tests and torture (Ninja trials) this, coupled with the fact that her only source of free time and entertainment has been a ninja manga, she may have developed some sort of mental/ identity disorder, she's been living in a fabricated reality and no one can help her because they don't see the full picture, even her backstory has been distorted by her own retelling making her some sort of unreliable narrator in her own story. Dr Primitive is truly a despicable monster, torturing people and distorting an innocent girl's mind. There's a bright side to this tragedy though! That innocent girl is now our Rappa, and although her mind has been messed with, she still became a righteous galaxy ranger, kindhearted, unmatched skill, hellbent on hunting down the cruel doctor and she definitely lives up to that title too!!! So I'm rooting for her!!! And the moment we got to fight alongside her at the end after hearing "No Dazzle No Break" was gorgeous (can't wait to finish building her so she can continue to show them the way of the ninja!)

Once I finish reading her character story, I'll make a further analysis

Speaking of which, I'm actually gonna make 2!! One for both of our stars of the show, Rappa and Boothill, two people who had to revisit their past, and come to terms with their present and future, living up to the ways of The Hunt! I already deeply respect these two, the more I get of them, the more I can't help but respect them more!!! And I'm definitely excited to get more of them!! Galaxy rangers are the best!!

Boothill's up first because obviously I've already read his backstory so his POV was like an added 5 course meal!!! But I do wanna talk about his best moments (aside from the obvious highlight that blew me away) Firstly, we got more of Boothill the identity stealer (First Pom Pom now March 7th???) Actual Robinhill moments??? (I'm more of a GunsNRoses person now but it's still really cute) The way he was so relieved that he could "fake swear" again instead of the banana cussing was hilarious, Star Rail don't do this to my man, at least give him the "Ninja slang" treatment, let him swear 😭😭 And Boothill owned the dancefloor in the DJ Robin cutscene!!! We have a rapping ninja and a dancing cowboy, could this get any better!!! And obviously, there's the Lore!!!! Which was actually insane !!! I literally wanted to avoid spoilers in order to experience it blindly and it was worth it!!!! I wanted to [fudging] cry, it was so well done!! Andrew Russell and Kendell Byrd knocked it out of the park with their scenes!!! I freaking love Boothill and Rappa so much 😭😭😭 they're both life my dude!!!

This is just what I needed!!!

[celestialholz]

Be still made, my beloved crossbow (or 'let's talk about Durge's other other weapon... and maybe a bit about Stillmaker too')

You've read this post, friends. You know it's true, I know it's true. (And it's bloody beautiful by the way, lovely job @darkurgediaries.)

But wait, there's more.

Let's have a quick chat about the Hellfire Engine Crossbow, because if Stillmaker is Durge's blade from Gortash, this is Durge's side-bitch from him... or it was meant to be, anyway. Man never quite got around to piecing it all together.

Okay, let's start with er... I mean look at it. It's white, has a phoenix head on it - a creature that symbolises resurrection, rebirth and immortality, how very Durge, and is also associated with sun gods when Gortash is this easy to turn into a Lathanderan and that guy brings light to each new day - and it's also embossed with Gortash and the Steel Watch's black and gold motif.

And then you take a mechanical look at it and... hang on.

What are you doing here, Lightning Arrow? The Steel Watch don't have Lightning Arrow, but you know who does have Lightning Arrow? Rangers - archery experts, usually - at level nine and up. And who can we consider that's on level nine and is really good at archery?

And who can we consider who might run out of lightning-basic magic in the heat of battle; who is white, and has a theme of rebirth either by rejecting Daddy Bhaal outright or embracing them anew, and knows a sun-coded Radiant guy, and may once have had business in the Foundry?

Well hello The Dark Urge Vanilla Edition, our old spicy friend. There's also the lovely addition of Reposition Malefactor - Lightning Arrow, grab, Stillmaker stab. Classic Baldurian efficiency.

You know what kills me about Gortash's Radiant coding and Durge's Lightning? The first thing you see of lightning is its flash, its brilliance, and the second thing you see is its destruction. The light isn't the part that hurts you, but it's inextricably linked to the thing itself, just as you can't have the destruction without the light. Symbiosis. Gortash could have been thunder-coded, but... no. Thunder isn't destructive, not usually. It doesn't happen at the same time in the storm.

It's not symbiotic... it's not equal.

... Yeah no, I'm fine, not emotional at all. No sir, could not be me. Despite being level nine too, Gortash doesn't have Lightning Arrow. Why would you need lightning, when your beloved has it in their veins, when you've made them a crossbow specifically for it? You just bring the 'light' part, don't you?

Symbiosis. Peace and love on planet Faerûn. Anyway...

If we must consider the application of Lightning Arrow as a helpful aid to the depleted Storm Sorceror, we should probably consider Stillmaker's equivalent.

Hold Person. Hold. Person. Which, yes - very useful bit of utility for our lovely Durge to have, 100% - but then you consider the fifteen separate dimensions of romantic overtones in Durgetash and you just can't help but feel: Hold Person. It's a bloody hug. It's support. He's made it easier for you to slaughter people, which at least used to be your favourite thing to do.

So Gortash has A. made your murdering life much more fun because you can savour the kill and B. made sure you can still kill from a distance if anyone else happens to be around and you're tired.

What a complete fucking simp. 🥺❤

On the subject of Stillmaker in fact, much as the Fabricated Arbalest to the Hellfire Engine, it's rather different to Durge's main dagger, Bloodthirst.

This is pure function. Made to please Papa in the most gruesome way possible, whichever hand you feel like using to wield it.

Whereas Stillmaker... it's got an attached hug. It's got a wavy blade, perfect for the task of slicing and dicing - one that's very difficult to forge, that must have taken time and care.

... Well. Must have taken a mortal time and care. Because lest we forget, it's not the only wavy blade Durge owns.

... Seriously, Larian. How are you going to make both of them wavy. I'm on your ceiling fans.

It's two separate dimensions to Durge's life, in two blades with the same nastiness to them - absolute utility, versus actual care.

This is literally more intricate than the thing presumably given by a god. That's going to tear like a bitch, truly. And it's even got Bhaal's delightful countenance up front and centre. What was that devnote, about convincing the child of a god that they're not a monster? Mm...

Oh, I don't know. It's almost like, for a while anyway, Durge's connection to Gortash was more important than the one to their father. Maybe they wrote something about that very thing, in fact. Imagine. 🥲

I'd like to take this opportunity to also note the very violent and Thunder-mentioning text attached to the Hellfire Engine...

... And the fact it's found in three parts, because y'know, Dead Three.

There's only one minor flaw in this whole thing, really. One teensy little tiny problematic detail.

Sorcerors, unlike Gortash, can't use Heavy Crossbows.

... But, then, they can't use shortswords either.

I'll let you be the judge, shall I?

[barrenclan]

Chonny Jash's cover of The Moss seems very patfw-core to me. I think someone's brought it up before but I'd like to specifically point out some of the new/changed lyrics that I think fit

But everything you see isn't everything that is

Every thing you think to be, every thought you can't dismiss

The lives we try to lead and the time we try to give

Well it's all a fallacy, we continue to relive

^ Cats like Pinepaw and Rainhaze's curiosity about what's beyond Barrenclan territory, how cats like Cootstorm try to discourage that type of thinking and how their actions unintentionally lead them to their fates. Also very cyclecore

And every thing will live, just as every thing will die

Every foe that you forgive, and every friend that you deny

Every single first hello, and every single last goodbye

Every smile that you show, every tear that you hide

^ In my head I'm picturing an amv/pmv and for this part I'm very much imagining a sort of slideshow section about contrasts and various events: Barrenclan/Defiance, Rainhaze and Ranger/Rainhaze and Asphodelpaw, Pinepaw and Saturn/Pinepaw and Wild Rose, Slugpelt and Cashew/Slugpelt and Dustfeather. Idk if that makes sense

Well, legend has it that we're all just doomed

And we've ruined our society

Well, legend has it that we dug our tomb

Which we'll lie in for all eternity

^ Barrenclan's whole staying as punishment for their cowardice ideology

Well legend has it that, the world once knew a whole palette of lovely blues and greens

Well legend has it that, our corpses lie a foundation of insincerity

^ what Barrenclan's territory used to be - blue and green - and what it is now - on a foundation of corpses

*Attempts to Jashify Raz* *Attempts to Jashify Raz* *Attempts to Jashify Raz—

I've seen a lot of people in the server talking about Chonny Jash, he seems pretty fun. But if I'm honest, I'm more of a Johnny Cash fan. :P

Ooh, yes! You've targeted me with a TMBG suggestion, I actually went ahead and added "Don't Let's Start" to the playlist but I love this song too.

Even when you're out of work you still have a job to do Even when you don't know what it is Your job knows what it is What it is is it's coming to get you

And when you wake up you can feel your hair grow Crawl out of your cave and you can watch your shadow Creep across the ground until the day is done All the while the planet circles 'round the sun

Haha, that is funny irony. But I agree with you! Isn't it interesting how despite being named that way, "Defiance" doesn't allow any of its members to defy Deepdark?

Compliance We just need your compliance You will feel no pain anymore No more defiance

Fall into line, you will do as you're told No choice fatigue, your blood is running cold We lose control, the world will fall apart Love of your life will mend your broken heart

Will Wood is ever-popular, of course, though I never got really into him. I can see this is as a Pinepaw song!

All nightmares start as dreams and I hear my subconscious screaming They say that beauty's just skin deep So naturally, please show me your

Bones, bones, bones, let me see your bones Well, I don't wanna know if the feeling follows home Bones, bones, bones, hell, we're all alone If I come home, baby, will you show your bones?

They say that beauty's just skin deep So Ana stands and rends the rancid meat from her

Oh... Rainhaze and Slugpelt song.

Are you dead or are you sleepin'? Are you dead or are you sleepin'? God, I sure hope you are dead

Well, you disappeared so often like you dissolved into coffee Are you here right now, or are there probably fossils under your meat?

Defiance song! Spefically, I could see it as from Ranger/broader Defiance's perspective as he navigates the group.

We're at a revolution And we're baying for your blood We're laying down the law And your name's mud

Cause you say you fight for us Cross your heart and hope to die You're the bully in the playground and we'll hang you out to dry

Oh yeah, I remember this song from the IncuriousCat PMV. I like it! "Nowhere King" is also a Deepdark song, so that creepy children's song-esque music does fit with the series. If anyone wanted to edit together a trailer it'd be cool!

Perfect. No notes.

Actually, someone's already made a PMV to the comic with the song! You can check it out here.

I don't think it's been suggested yet! It's a Pinepaw song, of course.

I'll cut my hair (Ooh) to make you stare (Ooh) I'll hide my chest And I'll figure out a way to get us out of here

I can't really think right now and this place Has too many colors, enough to drive all of us insane Are you dead? Sometimes I think I'm dead 'Cause I can feel ghosts and ghouls wrapping my head But I don't wanna fall asleep just yet

[another-goblin]

I really liked "Luminary Wardance", maybe even more than the main quest from that patch. But I have a problem with Boothill's involvement. As I see it, either the writing was bad for that part even by the HSR's uneven standards, or I'm missing something (which is quite possible, so please correct me if I'm wrong), but that's my problem.

1. Boothill is described as "extremely optimistic and unrestrained. He is a member of the Galaxy Rangers who swore to punish the wretched by any and all means." That little event before his release described some of his crimes: wild, fun, and chaotic; I don't remember him derailing trains full of orphans or something. He was appalled when Aventurine accused him of killing his bodyguards. So basically I understood him as a character who, despite all the hardships, under his inhuman appearance and gruff manners, hasn't lost his humanity and fundamentally is a good person, valuing human lives. 

Was I wrong?

Because now he has no problem killing an innocent, disabled, and severely mentally ill kid in this supposedly friendly competition, basically for no reason.

Look, he's grinning maniacally; he crearly has no qualms about this; he's aiming for the head:

2. But let's imagine Luka wasn't swift enough. The floor of the arena is covered with his blood, brain matter, and skull fragments, exactly as Boothill threatened.

Luka's father receives terrible news back at home (would Boothill send a little apology letter? like, "whoops, sorry", or "same, bro", or "he had it coming"?) He's left alone to grieve the violent loss of his child on this dying planet, once invaded by the IPC and abandoned by the universe. Wow, well done, Boothill. That will show the IPC!

As a writer, how little should you care about the story and the characters you are writing about to not notice the obvious parallel?

3. But why did he do that? The writers give us the flimsiest excuse: 

Boothill: I wanna see every news outlet in the cosmos buzzin' with the headline "The IPC's most wanted man stole the spotlight at the Wardance. He came out with the fudge blazin' and sure made them IPC shirtbags choke on the humble pie."

Okay, let's pretend he killed Luka, this fan favorite underdog, in front of the whole universe. Let's pretend he wasn't spooked away by some IPC cops (and we'll talk about it later). He fought Yanqing and killed him too. He just proved in front of the whole universe that he's actually as cruel and dangerous as the IPC propaganda said. And he got a new powerful enemy (because I don't think JY would be reasonable about losing his child like this. I mean, how many greiving fathers can we get in one hypothetical scenario?)

I don't think the IPC higher-ups will lose any sleep over it! 

4. Was there even a need to kill anybody? It's explicitly stated several times that "by holding the Wardance, they're demonstrating to everyone that they've returned to a state of peace and safety" (and it's not to satisfy people's thirst for blood or something). It's a festival, not some kind of death fight. I've got the impression that it's mostly for younger people to have fun and prove themselves. Most of the competing powerful adults don't even show their full strength. Nobody is expected to kill anybody. Yanqing decisively defeated Luka, and they ended up being friends.

Don't tell me Boothill isn't skilled enough to aim for Luka's arm to disable it with a shot (I mean that's what ended up happening but not for his lack of trying!). Or, if he wanted blood, why not just shoot Luka in the kneecaps? He'd probably need two new prosthetics, but he'd definitely be alive.

5. I already showed that Boothill would've achieved nothing if he won. But what about Luka? Maybe it's his fault? Was he too prideful? Was giving up an option for him? Absolutely not. He wasn't just representing himself, the children of the Underworld who believe in him, and that little girl who died, but his whole planet. It's the first time most people even hear about Jarilo-VI. And the first impression is crucial. Jarilo-VI is far from being safe, their chances for survival are tiny. Any support he can gain might be the matter of life and death for his homeworld. And we know that it worked because JY offered the Luofu's help to Jarilo in the end.

6. Btw, he only "fought" Luka because he knew he's much weaker than him, and then he ran away from some random IPC cops (who wouldn't have arrested him anyways because the Luofu clearly don't consider him a criminal, and they probably wouldn't allow the IPC to just arrest people on their territory). I'm not making this up, he literally says it himself:

Boothill: This kid (Yanqing) is young, but he's got some serious skills. Facing him will take too long and there's no guarantee of winning. It ain't worth gettin' caught by those forkin' IPC hounds over a competition.

So "I don't want to try and kill that kid because he can actually win". Our hero, everybody.

I mean, I'm not the only one who sees this, right? Again, it's very possible that I'm missing something important, and it all makes sense. Is he supposed to be a coward as well as a cold-blooded murderer? I don't believe that. It looks like a terrible slander of Boothill by the game's writers. Is everybody okay with it?

7. This whole confrontation kind of makes sense as the lowest point in Luka's story until you look closer. Getting to their lowest point is an important part of a hero's journey, but it usually happens in the beginning, indicating the need for the hero to change and grow, or in the end, as a test. But it happens in the middle. And it kind of doesn't change anything much?.. He gets over it and just continues competing.

The kind of character our hero loses to is also very important. It might be a mindless goon or a "for me it was Tuesday" type of villain, unrlated to our guy in any way, allowing the story to concentrate on the hero's journey. Or the antagonist's personality might be important for the story, highlighting their personal relationship with the hero or their conflicting ideologies; our hero overcoming the antagonist not only physically but mentally too, probably allowing them both to grow.

But it's neither. Boothill isn't a faceless goon, he's a complex character, a protagonist of his own tragic story. Their ideologies or goals don't clash (other than the serfuce level "I want to win this competition"). They don't have any personal history either. Boothill just appears, attempts to murder Luka, and basically disappears from the story.

8. Speaking of, you know what would be great? If instead of threatening Luka and then shooting him point blank, they actually talked. If Boothill had some character development by realizing that other people's struggles might be more important than his own pursuit of revenge sometimes. I mean, Luka was literally fighting to save his planet.

But instead, it feels like the writers just used Boothill as a tool in Luka's story, ruining him in the process.

9. Okay I'll shut up now. I'm too wordy and anal retentive. I just needed to get it out of my system. But I could go on and on. The more I think about it, the more problems I see. Like, why was their confrontation clearly styled after a classical cowboy standoff when only one of them had a gun? It makes no sense. Why did the journalists and fans have problems with Boothill's gun after the match? Didn't we just fight Topaz and her goons, who use guns too? Why wasn't it a problem then? Why did Luka faint after shielding himself from the bullet? I don't think he was wounded. And if he was wounded seriously enough to faint, then how did he manage to recover fast enough for the next match? Especially considering that the Luofu's healthcare mostly consists of feeding people normal food and giving them pets. Speaking of which, what was that dialog with Natasha in the beginning? Is he also terminally ill?… And why was Boothill borderline abelist about Luka's prosthetic arm? Yes, it was IPC branded at this point, but it's not like he just hates everything related to the IPC. He's basically good friends with Aventurine, and he had no problems sharing a small ship with Topaz and Jade. Btw, despite HSR being as vague about characters' ages as possible, it's kind of implied that Luka's underaged ("The tea served there isn't suitable for someone his age", "That red-head boy is actually… Luka from Belobog?" and so on). Boothill nearly killed a (probably) actual child in cold blood. A kid from a planet that just nearly survived IPC's military invasion. What were the writers thinking???

[likethecolorblog]

LATE NIGHT

⚠️: Mention of pregnancy, not planning child.

(Please send your suggestions, Critics and Advices ♡.. Like and Follow if you want and I hope you like it, Have a nice day)

Pd: English not my first language ♡

Late? No, it wasn't late... it was AWFULLY LATE fuck! 5am in the morning and I didn't even close an eye the while night.

I was waiting for my husband ti arrive and tell him something, I was feeling sick like if I was about to pass out, vomit, like if my heart is going to run out of my body.

*Keys noises* I heard the door open.. I was just staring at the door while I saw the body of mu husband walk inside the house, I was sat in the chair of the dining table, hands in my head because I had an awful headache "we need to talk" my voice sound cold, I didn't want it to sound that way.

He looks at me scared and sat "yeah.. what is it?" I take a deep breath and I look at the ceiling "remember when we talked about having children? You said you didn't wanna have one yet and I agreed because I am not ready to be a mom" he nods "I got my periods on time all this time and I've been taking my pills" my whole voice broke for a moment "I went to the doctor yesterday and, it seems I'm 2 month and 2 weeks pregnant" I look at him, his gaze, his look, he was lost

"WHAT?! IS THIS A JOKE?!" I just rolled my eyes out of frustration "yeah it is because I would joke about all of this at fucking 5AM in the morning idiot!" I raised my voice and I felt I was loosing strength, he was quick and kneel to grab my body in the chair "sorry.. yeah that was stupid of my part"

We got silent 20 minutes and he hug me, I broke down, I cried hard "everything is going to be okay.. I've got you" he reassure me softly as he rub my back "let's get some sleep and we would talk about this in the morning"....

____________________________________________

Once well rest we went to the same topic again

"You want the child?" He ask softly taking my hand "I don't know.. I don't want to raise a child you don't want, I don't want to do this alone you know?" He kiss my forehead, nose, cheeks and lips and I got a little calm "you aren't alone in this babe, you have me and I would be with you all the way in this journey, okay?" He whisperes, his smile got me calm, I nod and we hug, even if this wasn't planned at all, is going to be an interesting journey for both of us.

Characters: Law, Leorio, MONKEY D. LUFFY, Denki, Erwin, Asta, Luke voltia, kageyama, natsu, shikamaru, POWER RANGER RED, Smoke

[jamiedc-they-them]

Legacy (Platonic)

Summary: Victory may be yours, but the Rangers see you fighting harder than ever. Now, seemingly at the end with a new family, you tell them why.

Requested by @wlwshiper

Sometimes you were glad for the helmet and spandex. It could hide the rage in your eyes, the genuine anger and fury to once again have to have the world threatened by evil. You swung your sword, used your spin sword and everything you could. And, when it came to it, put it all into that final push of your blade to bring down the latest big bad of evil.

Everyone had survived. You'd done it. You'd won.

So why didn't it feel like it?

You knew why. You knew there would be another fight. Another evil.

Another Rita. Or someone just as bad as your mother.

You left her as soon as you could. The wave seemed to cleanse her but the damage was done. You aged slower than most, so you still looked like a teen. You had the attitude to match at least.

Your mentor seemed to know. It was looks he gave you. Understanding, for some reason.

You didn't realise why until Lauren came into the scene.

Secrets. Everyone had them.

Yours was more than just a sister of course. Yours was an entire legacy, and not a pretty one.

"Why aren't you joining them?" Lauren, the true red ranger, asked you. You were watching your friends, more so siblings, chattering and celebrating the win as you leaned up against a pillar.

"Just...trying to keep this picture in my mind forever."

She looked at them, then back to you, "are you ok?"

No one had ever really asked you that before. You were good at hiding your feelings. But here, it seemed that the walls had been let down.

So, you were honest before you could even stop yourself --

"My mother is the reason for all of this," you say, looking at her.

Lauren may of been sheltered, but she knew about the evil in the galaxy.

"...Rita..."

You nod.

At the silence from your friends you look back, only to see them now near you, concern on their faces.

"Is that why you never spoke about her?" Mia asks her big sister instinct seemingly on overdrive right now.

"Is that also why you trained so hard? To try and prove yourself?"

"Dude," Mike said, hitting Kevin on the shoulder, "but, Kev's right, is that why? I mean, if it helps, we don't think you do. It doesn't change anything."

"Yeah," Emily says with her bubbly smile, "you're still the same person who helped me out of my shell."

"And helped me catch some fish," Antonio says, joining in.

"Dayu was who I thought I could become at some point," Mia admitted, "but, thanks to you, I didn't. You kept me on the right path, Y/N. You're a good person."

Tears are in your eyes, "but...what if...?"

A hand goes on your shoulder. Jayden gives it a pat, "trust us, we know you. And, besides, without that, we wouldn't have met. We wouldn't have become a family. We wouldn't have helped each other how we have."

"We could've avoided the trauma. I could've had a mother."

There's a faint chuckle at your first sentence, then pity at the second.

"Maybe," Emily says, positivity shining through, "maybe there still can be. At some point. Maybe not right now. But, I mean my sister told me about that wave that saved the world from evil. I'm not saying that it will erase what she did, both to the world and to you. But, maybe if you wanted to, you could talk to her."

"But what if I don't..."

"Then that's ok, too," Kevin assures, "I dedicated my whole life to the Samurai and swimming, it's a new horizon for us all."

"Yeah, I mean, Mia is going to culinary school," you did snort. Mia rolled her eyes fondly.

"Yeah, yeah," she said, before looking back at you seriously, "but, Y/N, you aren't your mother. If you ever want to reach out to her, you let us know, ok? We'll be here. Always. What we have, that can never fully be broken."

You all move into a group hug. Maybe they're right, maybe your mother isn't the bad witch she once was. Maybe it was too late, though. Either way, you had them. And that was enough.

That was home.