#WHY WAS HIS ENTIRE FACE COVERED IN BLOOD THEY LITERALLY RIPPED HIS FACE OFF

[viaphni]

He just got a little headache

[henneseyhoe]

The Return Of Killjoy.

Killmonger x BLACK!FEM!Reader

WARNINGS: mentions of death, gory descriptions, mentions of religion, possession, choking, rough s*x, cu*khold, !SLIGHT CNC!.

Ps. I’ll edit this fully later, so if y’all see random pov switches then ignore it really quick. I just wanted it out before Halloween was over Lmfao.

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“You sure you wanna watch this, Trey? I just feel iffy” She expressed to her boyfriend, fiddling with the frills on her socks. Her stomach felt queasy, and her nerves were higher than usual all that day. It could be because she knew that there were plans made to do something she had no instest in, plans to watch an old slasher film, but even before she knew it was this movie in particular, she had already felt a bad feeling come over her body.

“You need to calm down, baby. I wouldn’t let anything happen to you, and we both know this shit is fake” Trey brushes her off in a nonchalant way, putting the vhs tape into the tv.

“Trey, please. We can watch a classic! Friday 13th?” He ignores her again, playing with the buttons on the television. “This movie is like 80 years old, who knows what type of old ass voodoo is on it?! we needed a fuckin’ box tv to watch this shit, and everybody saying it’s cursed!” She continues to press him, hoping he’d realize how stupid the whole situation was. She was never the type to be scared of movies, but she heard around town about what people saw in the tapes, and she wasn’t trying to be added to the list of people who lost their minds after watching.

Some stories she heard included people gouging their own eyes out, projectile vomiting everywhere only five minutes into the film, some even lose consciousness. “Are you even listening? Trey!” She pushed him, the boy still seeking no interest in what she was saying. She was so convinced that she could change his mind and that she had time to all before, but obviously he was adamant on watching the movie to understand the hype and fear surrounding.

“…someone literally stopped talking for an entire week after watching it. If that ain’t enough proof for you, I dunno what is!” Crossing her arms, she huffs like an upset toddler, over him ignoring her for a ‘stupid little movie’.

“That was just a drawn out joke! Wasn’t shit wrong with that woman” He says, using the tv remote to navigate through the options to start the movie. There was no turning back now, the tape beginning to roll.

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Trey yawns for the fifth time that night. She couldn’t tell if he was tired of just wanted to pretend like the scenes wasn’t scary. The movie started out with a blood curdling scream that made both the young adults cover their ears, Trey attempting to turn it down with the remote, which didn’t work, but even when he put it on mute, the scream continued. After that was the most gruesome death scene either of them had ever seen in a movie that old. It was almost too real. The main character, or who they thought was the main character, was killed only five minutes into the film. The masked man had captured her in her own home and hung her upside down with chains wrapped around her ankles. She was completely undressed, naked glory there to gawk at. Y/N caught Trey doing exactly that for a moment before the woman was split in half completely from the top down with a seemingly dull machete.

Y/N gags strongly while clenching her thick thighs closed as she watched the woman rip in half, screaming in agony until she stopped before the man could even pull the blade all the way through her body. He hacked away multiple times before he had even reached the end of her, blood splattering all over the hardwood floor.

“Ewww!” Y/N let out a girlish squeal while kicking her feet up and covering her face. Trey shook his head. “This shit is not scary, you doin too much”

“Shut up! This shit is makin’ me sick, turn it off”

“Why? You scared?”

“Yes! Stop playin’ and turn it off”

Trey rolls his eyes and laughs, switching his position so he was kneeling in front of his fearsome girlfriend. “It’s not real” she shake her head, her face still scrunched with disgust while Trey laughs at herfit. “Lemme comfort my little cry baby” he teased and kisses her lips. She melted from his touch, feeling safer than before. Trey’s hands roam her body, going for her shirt to pull it right off her body. Y/N’s safe feeling didn’t last too long, a feeling in her stomach creeping up onto her, telling her to open her eyes, which she reluctantly complied to.

Watching the screen behind Trey, multiple pictures of gore flashed as the film continued, the next picture even more disturbing than the next until the screen flashed a picture that had her jumping out of her skin, goosebumps covering her body.

She pushes her boyfriend away with a scream. “WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT?!” She panicked, tears welling in her eyes. “Damn, Y/N! You almost bit my fuckin’ tongue off!” Trey shouts, tasting blood in his mouth from the girl biting down on his lip. “What are you on about now?!” Trey glanced back at the screen, but it had changed to a normal part in the movie.

Y/N couldn’t even begin to explain the feeling in her chest. The picture she saw that flashed lastly was a picture of her. In that same spot. With Trey laying next to her, his face looking as if it was bludgeoned, features beyond recognition.

“STOP FUCKING WITH ME, TREY! IM SERIOUS! IT AINT FUNNY!” She freaked, her chest heaving as Trey looked at her in confusion.

“Jesus Christ, Y/N. If you that scared then I’ll just turn it off, damn” he reaches for the remote and clicks the tv off, yet the screen went no where. Still playing the movie, Trey tried clicking the buttons on the TV to turn it off, but the film stayed put. He sighs. “Look, it’s an old tv, baby. We can smash this shit right after if it makes you happy” he said, turning back to her. Cupping her face in his hands, he kisses her again, tasting salty tears on her lips. As she gave into his temptation, the kiss progressed to him laying her down and undressing them both fully.

Trey took it upon himself to pleasure her first, something he rarely did, but Y/N brushed it off as him trying to make her feel better. Spreading her legs out for him, Trey dove in, beginning to lap up her swelling clit as she used her hands to play in his hair.

They were cornrowed back, neatly placed in straight lines and she found herself tugging at the ends of them while he slurped her up. He uses her thigh as a headrest for him so he could eat without getting tired, but his patters were already sending the girl into overdrive.

“Yes, Trey” She calls out to him, her other hand gracing her wet lips. She sticks her tongue out and licks a long stripe along her pointer finger and thumb, using her own spit as lube to twist her nipples softly. Trey had suctioned his entire mouth around her clit, beginning to suck while his fingers dipped into her honeypot, giving her a reason for her eyes to be rolling backwards into her head like they were doing.

What was into him? She had never experienced this type of behavior. She couldn’t even remember the last time she came from head alone, but this time felt so different to her.

She had wondered when he had gotten so skilled at this..and when he got a tongue.. or when he got dreads.

Popping her head upwards, Y/N’s heart completely drops. The man that was between her legs was no longer her boyfriend, but the same psycho killer that shook her up just a few minutes ago. Her adrenaline rushes, her brown eyes becoming wide with her jaw being stuck hanging low like she had just been hit with a brick. “—oh fuck” She moans, the demon himself keeping himself latched on her clit, shaking his head from side to side. He rubs his plump lips against her clit while humming, vibrations spreading throughout the girls body before she came, a tongue being right there to catch all that she was giving before it was his turn to get his.

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“Like this, baby?” The man stared deep into her soul while stroking her, his callused hand wrapped tightly around her throat. Y/N shook with fear, but she couldn’t stop the moans falling from her lips. Turning towards the tv, she watched as Trey begged and pleaded on mute, slamming his hands against the windowed screen he was trapped in. Before a singular teardrop slipped from her eye, killjoy had already turned her head back towards him, giving her no permission to look at anything but him.

“Take it. Take it like a good fuckin’ girl” He grunts, gripping her thigh and pushing it back so far that she was basically folded in. It took strength to endure the beating he was putting on her, and the little bit she had left was gradually growing weaker. He was to blame for every reaction she was currently having, from the jagged breathing all the way down to the helpless whimpers. She thought he would have never stopped, until he did, his hips colliding with hers one last time before he stops, laying a smack on her thighs.

“Now, sit that ass on it” He demands. It was like she had no control over her own body, the real version of herself watching behind her eyes in utter shock. Flipping them both over, Killjoy does the honors of pushing himself back inside of her, Y/N using the strength of her calves to bounce on the tip of his dick. It was still so much for her, he was barely inside and she already felt so full. “I can’t-“ she chokes out as her legs shake, her body cowering on top of him. Killjoy grunts in annoyance, his patience running low for the girl. He was fed up. How was she gonna be a good host if she was a coward?

Giving her that jumpstart she needed, he lays three hard smacks on her ass, sending Y/N jumping forward with a yelp, landing right back on his dick. She slid down on his thick pole completely, her thighs closing together. “Unt-Unt. Open them legs, lemme see that pretty pussy” He says, completely disregarding her stiff movements and thrusting his hips upwards. She wasn’t even thinking straight at this point, she couldn’t have answered a question if you asked.

“I’m gonna cum!” She shouts, fisting his locs in her hand, a guttural groan escaping his mouth at the hair tugs. Only the lucky knew how he liked it rough, and not one of those lucky people were alive anymore to tell the story of how killjoy himself broke them in on Halloween night. Now, it was her turn.

“Cum on this dick, pretty girl. It’s yours” He taunts with a devilish smirk, but that only made Y/N teeter over the line of ecstasy and unconsciousness just a little more.

“I’m- im-“

“Uh-huh. Show yo’ man how a real nigga do it”

“FU-“

“Show him how a real nigga make you cum!”

“FUCK”

She stops bouncing, but killjoy kept his hips jack hammering up into her, his arms arms going around her waist to hold her in her spot as he fucked her pussy with no remorse. Y/N was praying to the heavens that it would stop and this would just be some crazy wet dream, but it kept going.

“No need to pray now. He can’t help you” Killjoy speaks into the girls ears, his voice echoing in her head like they were in an empty room.

She could hear her water splashing against him, and he had no means to stop just yet.

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[babygirlhaljordan]

quotes that remind me of dungeon meshi characters (a thread—or tumblr equivalent)

senshi

“for every life i can’t save during my shift, one more drop of blood becomes a part of me.”

if you saw the episode regarding senshi’s backstory… you’ll understand why this quote fits. at a young age, he watched his entire party die from starvation. consequently, he studies cooking (with monsters) with a crazy intensity to starve off hunger. to never have more drops of blood join him again—especially with his suspicion that he ate his own party members. so in the case of senshi, others blood is genuinely (or believed to be) Apart Of Him

(tldr senshi’s survivors guilt goes CRAZY)

chilchuck

“his mouth may be full of acid, but gentleness oozes from his actions like chocolate syrup dripping down whipped cream.”

we all know that despite chilchuck’s professionalism (emotional distance) he isn’t as hardened off as he wants us to believe but i feel the episode that encapsulates that is when that one ogre confronts him like. “you’re worried your friends will die aren’t you” while he’s sobbing his eyes out. THAT sticks out to me.

if you ignore that episode, there’s still tons of moments from the season alone that showcases how much he cares. chilchuck trying to wake up marcille from her nightmares. deciding between following senshi or laois to protect them from other people’s wraths. facing the red dragon HEAD ON despite him Not Being A Fighter. he cares about people DAMMIT but he’s the last person to let others know, covering any harsh actions with his words—be it teasing marcille, snarking at laois, or more. yet his actions say more than what he could & that is enough

itzusumi

maybe this is what being a mortal is about. kindnesses that aren’t deserved

this resonates as itzusumi because of her inherent selfishness. even though she’s only appeared at the latter half, throughout the series, she’s been shown to prioritize herself above all. and that isn’t to say she isn’t deserving of kindness as one of her rights as a Basic Human Being but. people tend to follow the golden rule from my experience—ESPECIALLY when the other party has been rude (which itzusumi has been)

so to have laois’ party treat her with kindness (with chilchuck literally APOLOGIZING for his comments) is really heartwarming. most people would have given up or left her by now. yet his crew treats her with kindness even if she hasn’t been the best. that’s why i feel the kindness is undeserved

as for what a mortal is… that’s a question all the characters are finding out, but itzusumi (& falin) are finding out above all. as beastmen, they aren’t seen (or even seen THEMSELVES) as human. yet they are both being treated with kindness despite their actions. and i think that sticks out to me above all

marcille

“If it’s heaven’s will for us to part, I will rip heaven into pieces with my own two hands to be with you.”

falin’s transformation to a literal chimera is kickstarted all because marcille refused to let the dead rest. although the dungeon can easily allow for the revival of humans… bringing back people when they’re too far gone, when they’re already devoured.. it crosses the life between life and death, the natural order of existence. yet marcille crosses that line, of what’s considered natural or “fate” (aka what is determined by the higher order—heaven) of them parting and ripped it apart

she brought her best friend back to life.

because much like senshi, marcille is someone characterized by her losses & what she will continue to lose due to her being a long-lived species. she knows this and has been continued haunted by her past losses: her bird, her father, and i have no doubt there’s more. it’s why she studied forbidden magic: to no longer lose the people she loves. and she doesn’t care what boundaries or rules she breaks because she loves them That Much (sounds like another magic aligned user eh?)

falin

how do you separate a tiger’s beauty from its ferocity? or a cheetah’s elegance from the speed of its attack? achilles was like that—the beauty and the terror were two sides of a single coin

we all know this is referring to falin in her chimera form because while i do love her prechimera the series mainly focuses on her in that form than without. although she is dangerous, she is powerful. and in the same way, so much as she’s powerful, she’s dangerous. her existence is beautiful but it’s an example of hostility. of the potential of forbidden magic as well as the drawbacks. she’s truly two sides of the same coins

laois

“i think we sometimes make the mistake of thinking monsters are abhorrent aberrations, lurking in the darkest recesses, when the truth is far more distributing. the most monstrous of men are those who sit in plain sight, daring you to challenge them.”

this goes into manga spoilers so. if you’re not okay with that… skip this section

i wholeheartedly believe this quote fits laois due to his own negative experiences with humans. for YEARS the villagers of his home casted out falin (and him, to some degree? could be wrong) treating her poorly for who her ghost abilities. similarly, his parents struggled to stand up for them, leading lapis to have a strained relationship current day. and when he left to join the army, he struggled to fit in.

as a result, laois would dream of being a monster (and also developing a monster interest in general) for their power—especially when they could crush all the people that bullied them. his love for monsters represent laois disconnect to humans—especially with the way they treated the ones he loves. because despite the monsters being seen as the scary ones, he experiences more anxiety around humans than he ever does with beasts.

[lxinesux]

when i sink my teeth, (your skins not so tough)

Relationship: Peter Parker x Green Goblin!Super Solider!Reader

Summary: Peter reacts poorly to your attempted sacrifice. He seeks to let you know just how much you mean to him.

Warnings: Panic Attack, guns, PTSD, gore, violence, blood, and implied torture. Slight dubcon kissing that becomes very con lol Frottage, love confessions.

A/N: *screech* this has been rotting in my google docs for WEEKS and i’ve been editing it ova and ova and it’s still not up to par, to me. So I give lol. I really love this reader so- you may see her again. ONWARD!!

Peter very gently sets you on your shaky feet, trying to keep hold of your waist while he maneuvers out of the window.

You're already bleeding through the layers of webbing he used instead of a bandage and it’s soaking through the spandex of your costume. The wound itself doesn’t hurt, the adrenaline making sure of that, but you’re hot and cold and shaking and are pretty sure you're gonna vomit-

You tear the mask off your face, grunting as a few stray hairs are ripped from your scalp. You’re coated in sweat and grime but you’re freezing.

“I can’t believe you did that,” Peter says from some faraway place.

You press against the wound just under your ribs, shuffling to the cluttered couch in the far corner of the living room. You fall onto it and shut your eyes.

There’s that pain from earlier. It’s hot, white lightning in your stomach. It makes you mean. “Fuck off-“

“Let me see it!”

“No, fuck off Pete!”

“You just want me to let you bleed out on the couch!?”

“Yes!”

Talking is too much right now. You can hear Peter’s mask drop onto the cluttered living room floor. Hear the soft thack thack thack that means he’s crawling on the ceiling.

Away from you, thank fuck.

You press your cheek against the jersey couch cover and try to ground yourself while your wound gains a heartbeat.

You really should’ve just let him get hit. Asshole. Truthfully, you’d rather die right here than have to explain why exactly you took a literal bullet for him.

It was all so embarrassing.

His back was turned, his reflexes delayed while he dealt with the rest of the villains of the week’s goons. You were too far away to get the gun away, and you could just tell, from the aim-

It might’ve killed him. Gotten into his spine. Paralyzed him in a way his dumb healing factor couldn’t fix.

Yes, he’d been shot before. Yes, he’d gone through worse. But what if this was the one time he wouldn’t heal? This split second, the moment the bullet left the chamber and burrowed under his skin-his life over, forever.

You couldn’t risk that.

So you jumped in the way.

His life was more important than yours, anyway. Everything Spiderman represented: hope, justice, protection, was worth more than anything you could do. That wasn’t the entire reason.

You couldn’t risk losing Peter. He was the only thing you had left, the only good thing. He was the only person in your life who didn’t think you were a freak or a monster.

He taught you how to be good. And if he were gone, your source of goodness would be gone with him.

At least if you died, it’d be martyrdom.

You can hear the thack, thack, thack return. It reverberates in your wound and between your ears. Pain, heat, pain.

He drops down in front of you, you can feel it through the cool air his descent leaves. He’s on his knees.

“Please,” he says.

“Can’t-”

He sighs, “Okay. This might hurt though. I’m gonna cut off this webbing, okay? It might peel off some skin so just-”

“Get on with it.”

Peter oh so gently peels your tacky, bloodied hands away from the wound. You’re locked in a fetal position from the pain, your knees up to your chest. You can feel the blood clotting though, a sign your much slower healing process is beginning.

Thank you, Goblin Formula.

It’s less painful and more irritating. The skin around the wound is tender and angry. Peter lets out a tense intake of air. It must look awful but you’re not gonna peek. You can handle blood and gore, just not your own.

“I’m cleaning the area now. It might sting,” You hate how his voice sounds so soft, so sweet, “You’ve stopped bleeding, but you’re gonna need stitches.”

You let out a pathetic whimper the moment the anti-septic touches your skin. You nearly arch up in pain. Fresh tears prick at your eyes.

“That hurts!” You squirm, trying to get away from the source of the agony.

“I told you it would! Hold still!”

“Stop!”

You try to jerk away, but he holds your wrist. You open your eyes then, to glare at him. But he’s looking up at you, his brows furrowed and those hazel eyes are shimmering with unshed tears.

The tenseness of his jaw says he’s angry. You’re familiar with his anger. But not the sadness. Not the fear that his eyes are showing you. You want to shut your eyes again, to get away from the onslaught of overwhelming emotions directed toward you.

His eyes move swiftly back to his work, “Just…just hold still okay? Stop squirming…”

And you do hold still. You make eye contact with the streetlight through the window. Because it’s easier than looking at him.

“I’m gonna sew you up now. You might want to hold onto a pillow or something. I promise…I’m not trying to hurt you. I’ll put on some numbing cream but you might still feel it…”

You nod stiffly. His hands are gentle on the flesh around the gash. You’ve thought about his hands a lot. How shapely they are. Beautifully made. And strong. You’ve felt them on your body before, but never in the way you envision. It almost hurts; this is how he touches you, only when you’re wounded.

The numbing cream doesn’t stop the feeling of your skin getting pulled. He’s pulling your skin together as if he made you. Like you’re a stuffed toy or his suit after it rips. At this you whimper, you squirm at the unnatural feeling. He waits for you to stop moving before he starts again.

This feels too intimate. Your blood is on him, the blood you lost trying to protect him. He’s putting you back together, taking care of you. His breath is on your skin, his warmth near you.

Life is unfair.

If you weren’t so broken, if you were softer, if you were more like the girls at the Bugle-maybe he would touch you when you weren’t bleeding out. Maybe he would look at you with something that wasn’t fear and anger.

You both sit in silence as he bandages the fresh stitches. He swallows.

“Do you…do you want me to wipe you down?”

“…Just bring me a washcloth.”

“…Y/N..”

“Please, just…don’t. Not right now.”

He brings the washcloth, a bowl of warm water, as well as your favorite pajama pants and one of his shirts. He’s brought you a pillow too, and some clean sheets.

He knows you. He knows you and it sickens you to your core.

Ultimately, it means nothing. Of course, he’s seen your behavior. He’s lived with you for months now.

But it still makes your heart stutter in your chest that he knows which pair to fish out of the pile on the bathroom floor. Understands without saying, you need to be alone.

“Yell if you need anything,” He says.

You nod stiffly. God, would he just leave you to suffer this embarrassment alone? You needed to stew in your bitter juices.

He looks at you one last time. And you know him just as he knows you. You can see on his face, the tenseness of his jaw, he wants to refuse.

You want him to stay.

He goes to the bedroom. Your gunshot wound isn’t the only thing aching.

-

You dream of him.

Those dark eyes on your body, his hands on your skin.

His pretty, soft lips on the ugly scarred parts of you. He makes them beautiful, makes them almost worth the pain that put them there if he just keeps lavishing them with kisses.

You can only imagine what his kisses feel like. What his hands feel like in your hair.

You love him. Fuck, you love him. You can admit that here, in the comfort of your brain. Here, you can press your fingertips into his shoulder blades. Feel the warmth of him pressed against your naked body.

You’ve thought about his cock often. You’ve felt it against you more than once. In the mornings, you felt it press aggressively, almost pleadingly, against your ass in that tiny twin bed you share. In the evenings, you imagined it in the grey sweats he wore around the house.

He thrusts in and out of you, slow and deep. His tongue swipes up your jaw and swirls around your ear.

“I love you,” He pants, “I love you so fucking much.”

He would never love you if he knew all that you’d done. You couldn’t even remember how many lives you took, how much blood you spilled.

You were a weapon. You were never taught lust or love. You never felt them, or their lack.

You’d never even thought about sex until you moved into his apartment and started sharing his bed. All you craved was skin, heat, and the soft intimacy of just holding each other. Then those urges gained an edge. A hunger grew in you that frightened you. It would gnaw its way through you if you’d let it.

You can’t say it back, but you don’t need to. He knows. In this reality, he knows. He knows and you know and all that matters is that you’re together. It’s safe and warm here.

Here is a bloodless place. A woundless place.

There’s no pull of stitches as he contorts your body into the position he needs you in. You’re so close. He has you on your knees, back arched. He reaches between your legs, rubbing at your clit in slow circles.

You make noises that you’d never make in real life. Your body betrays itself, and surrenders to the blinding pleasure.

You're gone, your knees locking, your head thrown back, and then-

-

It hurts. Dear fucking god, it hurts.

How the fuck did you manage to roll off the couch? During your sex dream, no less. And landed perfectly on your fresh wound.

“Ow.”

Your pride is what hurts the most. But the new irritation on your stitching sends waves of nausea through you. You lay on your back, staring up at the ceiling for a few moments. Allow yourself a few deep breaths.

You force yourself upwards and immediately regret it. It’s dizzying and fills your mouth with the runny vile you swallow.

So sexy. Very en vogue of you.

You move Peter’s shirt out of the way. Your flesh is irritated, and bright red from your unexpected trip to the floor. But the stitches held. Peter had stellar handiwork.

The morning sun peaks its head across the Brooklyn skyline. The only nice thing about this shit-hole apartment was the bay windows. It allowed for perfect post-patrol viewing, right on the floor.

You feel gross, despite your bird bath last night. You wonder where Peter is. You take a moment, more breathing, to rest against the couch leg.

You need a proper shower. Your hair is heavy with sweat and smells like soot.

At Oscorp, they would’ve laughed at your complaint. Correction, you would’ve never complained. You and your filthy hair were simply meant to serve a greater purpose. They’d give you a public shower with a sad, pale, foamy bar of generic soap and no hot water.

Figure it out yourself, Asset.

You weren’t an Asset anymore. You very gently touch your stitches again. Wince at the tenderness of the wound. You never felt anything before Peter. No pain, discomfort, hunger, or thirst.

After him, you are Human. Unfortunately, repugnantly, aggressively human. With limitations, with discomforts.

You miss the days of numbness. Peter brought out feelings you never wanted and were better off without.

You would give this man anything he wanted. You would do whatever he asked, no matter the price. It terrified you, this deep loyalty. It was as though your programming flipped, from the Osbournes and your handlers to Peter Parker and Spiderman.

You stand up on shaky legs. Finally, it seemed like the pain was abetting. Your stomach gurgling stabilized. Your feet pad across the hardwood, using autopilot.

You turn your head briefly. The bathroom was attached to the tiny bedroom you shared. The only small blessing that brought was confirming Peter was home, he was still bunched up under the covers. Judging by how early it was, he’d probably be asleep for another few hours.

You shut the door, careful to move it along its fickle framework. You slide your shirt off, gently place a waterproof bandage over your gash, and start the water.

-

Of course, you’d decide to make as much noise as possible right when he was getting to sleep.

He groaned, half-heartedly throwing his arm over his eyes.

You were okay though. You were alive. 

Holy fuck. 

Holy fuck, you almost died last night. 

It all comes back to him, the memories stabbing into his brain like a million knives. God, you were being stupid, and reckless, like you didn’t care if you lived or died-

But you were okay now. You were alive, alive, alive. He could go into the bathroom right now, and you would be there. 

It’s too late.

His body trembles. He bites down on his lower lip, trying not to cry out. He squeezes his eyes shut, but hot tears still burn down his cheeks. Shit, shit, shit. Waking up in a panic attack was common but not something he would ever get used to. 

He digs the palms of his into his eyelids. His flesh was going against him, muscles tensing, chest tightening. His burning, screaming lungs weren’t getting any air. He just kept seeing your blood. On his hands, on the concrete, on your costume. 

You could’ve died. You could’ve wound up in the ground. Just like his parents. Uncle Ben. 

Gwen. 

“Hey.” 

His ears are filled with cotton. His hands are pried away from his eyes. Under the sheen of tears, he can see your blurry outline.  

“Hey.” You repeat, pulling him toward you. Your skin is wet, your hair dripping onto his bare shoulder. “I’m here. I’m here, Pete. I got you.”

His hand finds its way into your wet hair, the other gripping your waist hard enough to bruise. His heart beats painfully against his ribs. If you weren’t a mutant, he would’ve crushed you instantly. He had forgotten his strength. 

“Don’t do that again,” he pants into your hair, “I swear to God. I’m not worth that. I’m not-I can’t handle more blood on my hands, more sacrifices-” 

“Peter, I’m not-” 

“You’re all I have, it’s my job to protect you.” 

You want to say that it’s the opposite, that it’s the least you can do, protect him. 

You rub his back, trying to help soothe him through the episode. You did this. You started this. You gave him this episode because of your stupidity. 

What feels like hours pass before calms fully. His body goes limp in your arms. He trusts you so much. He’s so vulnerable. It makes your stomach flip. It’s more than you deserve. 

“Does it hurt?” 

“Hm?” 

“Your gunshot wound?” 

“Oh. I fell on it this morning,” God, how embarrassing to admit that, “But it’s fine now. It’s starting to heal. Might need to take the stitches out early.” 

His face stays pressed against your neck, his warm breath against your jugular.

You feel something press against your neck. Soft, unsure. Then again, a little more urgent, harder. Then again, moving up toward your ear. Leaving small, but not unpleasant tingles in their wake. 

It takes your brain a moment to realize what’s happening. You freeze, every molecule in your body standing at attention. 

When you’d heard the telltale whimpering coming from the doorway, you’d thrown on his bathrobe. It hadn’t occurred to you until this moment that you were very, very naked underneath. 

He moves away from you when your body tenses. 

“Christ, I’m sorry. I don’t know what I’m doing…”

“Adrenaline.” You say. Do you want to believe that? No. You want to believe that Peter was kissing your neck because he desired you. But that wasn’t rational. “You were having an adrenaline rush, your mind was seeking comfort and I’m the closest warm body-“

“Do you think I see you that way? A warm body?”

His eyes are boring holes into yours. He knows you won’t answer truthfully, so you don’t waste your time answering. 

It was how you were programmed to think. It was useless to fully go against your programming. 

“If I lost you last night, I would’ve never forgiven myself.”

“That’s because it goes against your code of ethics. You want to protect humanity-“

He looks as though you’ve slapped him in the face, “Do you know why I wouldn’t let you go into SHIELD custody?”

You don’t. 

“I could make up a lie and tell you it’s because you wouldn’t have been safe. I don’t trust SHIELD nor the Avengers but they would’ve kept you safe. I could say that I think you may be able to secure more information about my parents, but I don’t think I’ll ever really know all the answers. I’m not even sure if I want them anymore.” 

“Stop, stop, don’t go any further-“

You don’t want to give yourself hope of what he might say. Of what he might do. Of any sort of future that would be dashed before your eyes once he knew what you were. 

He grabs your wrists, “You are all I have. You’re all I want-“

“You don’t know what you’re asking for!” 

He pins you down with your gathered wrists, his legs on either side of yours to keep you there. You’re belly up, your brain screaming to right yourself-your heart beats hard against your chest. He’s stronger than you, but only just barely. The bones in your wrist pop as you squirm. 

“Get off me.” 

“I love you.”

“No,” You hiss, “I won’t let you. I won’t allow it-“ 

His teeth hit your bottom lip, then scrape against your enamel, before his tongue unceremoniously slides into your mouth. 

And you bite him.

Not hard enough to draw blood, but a warning nonetheless. It’s enough to startle him, enough for you to subdue him. For you to get him on his back, both of you panting hard. 

Your robe is open far too much, your wound is stinging from exertion, but your mind is still in combat mode. Watching him watching you. 

His eye lock on yours. The skin underneath them purple and still puffy. You can see the tackiness of dried tears on his cheek. The faint hint of a bruise on his hairline from the night before. His beard tentatively trying to grow back before he shaves it again.

That hunger is trying to stir again. You want to kill it. But it’s already made its way down. You’re pressed tightly against him. 

You know he can feel you getting wet. 

Your lip twitches. This was supposed to remain in your head. He wasn’t supposed to know anything. You were trying to protect him again. And again you were failing. 

His cock gets semi hard underneath you and it really doesn’t help. A moan claws its way up your throat before you can cut it off. 

“Fuck,” Peter says. 

You don’t know how to initiate anything further. The soldier in you is confused. This goes against programming. Your body gets hot like the after effects of your wet dreams. Functionally, you know how this works. You know it feels good. But this is reality, not a dream. 

It feels so much better than a dream.

You want to move. Not away, but toward. So you put your hands on Peter’s chest and move your hips, slightly, minutely. 

“Oh m’god,” He breathes. His hands, his perfect hands, move to your hips. He’s so careful not to touch your wound that it hurts a little anyway. Like it’s trying to remind you who you are. 

He guides you against his sweats, a little faster than your pace. Your clit is throbbing against this soft fabric and the hardness underneath it. 

You want to tell him about the mess going on your head right now. Your horny confused brain, the hunger it feels. How this is fucked up and you should just get off. Not get off but get off of him. Fuck.

But all that came out were tiny desperate, embarrassing noises. You weren’t being seductive. To yourself, you sounded like a squeaky toy.

His hands move from your hips in the rob to your back, to your ass. He presses you down even harder. The jolt of wetness makes your face burn. 

“Feels good, doesn’t it?”

“Y…yes…”

Peter keeps you rooted there. You try to move again but he tsks, holds your sides again. 

“Pete…”

You squeeze your eyes shut. Your mind feels mushy. Your one singular goal moving out of reach. Your limbs suddenly feel too long, too shaky. Your cunt is throbbing, hole closing around nothing. There’s an ache, an emptiness so intense you think you might fall into it and die. 

“Peter, please…” You don’t sound like yourself. You can’t even hear yourself. Your head is too full of blood. 

You feel that firm pressure against your neck again. You lean into it instead. His arms wrap around you then and you feel so dizzy. 

Chest to chest now, the robe somehow made its way down to your waist. Your nipples brush against his skin and how are you meant to keep calm? It’s too much, it’s all too much. 

Your hips move without him telling you, without his help. Faster, sloppy, erratic. Your stomach hurts. There’s a tightness in your chest that needs release. 

“There you go, baby. Look at me. Look at me.”

He’s in your ear. Tears prick up behind your eyelids. If you look at him, you’ll lose your nerve. If you don’t, he might stop you again. 

You do look. His hand cups your face. His eyes are shimmering with the same hunger you feel. Only, his isn’t shameful. On him, it looks terrifying, but erotic. 

“Let me kiss you,” He groans, “Properly…let me. Please.” 

You nod frantically. You’d agree to anything, the depth of your desperation was so great. His tongue swipes against your lips. You’re mouth opens quickly. You don’t know how to kiss. You’ve only ever seen it in movies. You don’t think it’s supposed to feel like electricity is running frantic under your skin like your lungs are shriveling up. 

It’s not supposed to melt your brain, not supposed to turn your organs into liquid. Liquid that’s quickly running toward your pelvis. Fast, so fast. That ball in your chest unwinding with breakneck speed. 

You cling to Peter’s sweating back, your fingers marking pretty purple-red spots along his shoulders. Your head jerks away from his. 

Oh, God. Oh fucking, God. Too much. Too much. I can’t-

Peter presses back up against you. Your whole body quakes. You think you scream, you must scream. The force of your orgasm tears through you fast and without end. 

Your body is still trembling when you come back down. You slump against Peter. His hands move over your body, petting your hair, rubbing your back. 

“So good, baby. You did so good.” 

“‘m sticky…” 

He rumbles out a laugh, moving to lay you both on your sides. His sweats were a mess. 

“You came in your pants,” you observe. 

Another snort, “You were very hot. It would’ve been impossible not to.” He kisses you again, tongueless and sweet. 

Something warm and sweet settles into your bones. Love. The physical feelings of love, belonging. Peter's fingers are gentle as he moves hair out of your face. He’s smiling and it feels like sunlight pouring on your face. 

Maybe you do deserve this. Maybe it all doesn’t have to be rational. 

“You wanna finish showering with me?”

You nod. His fingers intertwine with yours as he helps you up.

Maybe this could be good.

[ks-caster]

Stranger Things Theory: The Creatures aren't Attracted to Blood. They were Created to Collect and Bring Back Water.

My evidence, in no particular order:

Within the Upside Down, vessels that should be full of water, including natural ones such as Lover’s Lake, are empty. Yet everything that seems to be alive (vines, demo-critters, even the gates) is at least moist. The things require moisture to survive but don't appear to have a natural source of it.

In season 2, Will's entire concept of Hawkins as a place is through the waterways. When he goes looking for Hopper via the Mind Flayer, that's the only thing he can see in terms of regular landmarks. Hawkins' waterways are something that the Mind Flayer is aware of.

Everything in the Upside Down is a hive mind. However, the creatures also follow some form of biological laws (such as molting and eating). Therefore it stands to reason that the vines exist for a reason. Perhaps rather than vines they function more like roots, explaining why there are so many of them in places like a lake basin, a pool, and climbing up trees.

On the night in season 1 that the demogorgon escaped the lab, it was surrounded by tasty scientists that it had easily murked, but it didn't really stop to eat them. Predators generally eat when they're hungry, so this is unusual behavior. (could it have been hunting El, yes. But then why deviate and go after Wil? Give me a moment.) Clearly none of the scientists were a threat to it, so why would it leave the lab that night, if it was hungry and surrounded by blood-filled bodies? We're told by Hopper that it was raining--storming, in fact--on the night that Will went missing. A creature seeking blood and flesh would have stayed inside. But a creature just seeking the biggest source of moisture would have gone straight for the drainage pipe, which would have filled with running water.

Everything from the Upside Down likes it cold, but nothing likes it frozen. Will had the window open and his shirt off, but he wasn’t jumping in the freezer in season 2, and Billy may have been bathing with ice cubes, but he was also able to be outside in the summer in a long sleeved shirt for many hours at once in season 3. Plus if they wanted frozen, a walk-in freezer would have been a better setting than an old steel works building for the mind flayer to create its monster. Everything from the Upside Down also fears fire/hates heat. The warmer an environment is, the faster water evaporates--but get an environment too cold and water freezes, such as the water within living bodies. The water needs to be liquid.

The monsters do not have eyes. Their heads are literally all mouth. Not just all mouth, but all teeth—teeth in a way that doesn't really make sense. They don't have teeth for cutting or for chewing, they don't have rows for slicing, and the petals, as we see in Bob's death in season 2, don't close when they feed, they actually open wider. They don't seem to have strong jaws for biting, just teeth-covered flaps for wrapping. Those mouths are designed for ripping and tearing, and its the prominent feature of their heats, which makes not a whole lot of sense if they eat meat--but plenty of sense if their main purpose is to drink liquid (such as blood out of a victim).

When they kill Bob, they don’t go for the throat, or the head, or the heart. They tear him open at his torso. It takes time, it spills a TON of blood. They’re going for his gooshy organs.

Same deal with Steve and Eddie; the bats go for their torsos. They’re not interested in killing or in eating flesh, they’re going for blood, intestines, bile, and lots of it. 

The Demogorgon doesn’t show up to the Byers house to attack Jonathan and Nancy with the bandaged cuts on their hands, but it smells dinner when Steve shows up with multiple bleeding cuts to his face.

Conversely, when El is in the mindspace, she’s always in water. She’s in the bath, she’s walking on water. Perhaps because she approaches the mindspace from this side, from her human-ness? I don't have a great explanation for this one, but it feels relevant.

When the Russians are creating a Gate manually, they're using or at least transporting a ton of mystery liquid--but we know the liquid isn't for power, because we know that the power comes from the grid (per Alexei, season 3). So what was the liquid for? A LOT of it was stored in the elevator, but only a little was taken down to the lab. So the liquid--not water, but liquid that burns and destroys--is related, but it's not the power source. We never did find out exactly what the Russians were doing with it.

Furthermore, the only thing that can travel from the Upside Down to the regular world without El pushing it is electricity (see the lights in every season, Will using the tape deck and the phone in season 1). Y'know what travels pretty well through water? Electricity.

When One first arrived the world visually appeared dry, barren. He meets the mind-flayer, which appears like black smoke.

Smoke is solid particles and water vapour. White smoke is mostly water vapour, but black smoke is mostly oil, particles, things that are NOT water.

Find a photo of Henry meeting the mind flayer. His eyes are sunken and his skin is wrinkled, exactly as one might expect of a person dying of thirst.

Consider One's victims and the physical locations in which he choses to open gates. Between the events of the earlier seasons, it's most likely that the majority of Hawkins has some kind of trauma he could have pulled on if he wanted to, but he picked:

Chrissy: a person with a history of Bulimia Nervosa, who due to the exact trauma he pulled on to activate her would have been statistically more likely to die in a bathroom, where we see her taking shelter early on.

Patrick: One waits to attack Patrick until he's out over Lover's Lake, creating a gate in the middle of a water source. (Due to the gravity differential the water doesn't pour through, but we see the vines--I still say roots!--just chilling and soaking in the lake until they snake up and pull Steve down. They certainly don't MIND being underwater!)

Fred: While Fred doesn't have the same connection to water as Patrick and Chrissy, he does have a serious fear of fire due to the car accident. As a victim, he would at minimum be someone who also would not be able to defend himself (being afraid of the only thing that could potentially save him). Additionally, if Vecna is starting to attack people close to the Party (Patrick for Lucas, Max for Eleven, then Fred might have been a jab at Nancy as well.

Max: In Max's case, she was a pretty clear jab at Eleven. She doesn't have the same MO as the others, so I got nothing here.

My theory is that something or someone somehow took all of the water out of the Upside Down, burning and starving the Mind Flayer. Or the Upside Down is a place where there never was any water, and the Mind Flayer was banished there somehow, unable to die.

It might have worked, but then El sent One there (accidentally, as we know she intended to kill him). One and the Mind Flayer joined forces, and One taught the Mind Flayer how to create creatures—suckers like spiders, since those are his obsession—to go out, gather what they need, and come back to build an ecosystem. Mostly water to revitalize the dead world. 

After all, we know One doesn't particularly want to return to this world, he doesn't like it here, he said so. He'd rather build his own

The original Demogorgon left out of the lab filled with tasty people because it was raining. It soaked up the wetness, and then went after Will, maybe thinking he’d have more nutrients? That explains why he was kept alive even after being taken—he was essentially in a larder. A farm? Maybe they tried to do something like that with him and Barb, but Barb hit her head? Broke her spine? Maybe they realized it would be more difficult to keep them alive than they thought, especially when more people with flamethrowers and guns keep showing up. However, it’s notable that when Will returned, he was NOT dying of thirst. He also didn’t actually wash his hands. He DID vomit up a pollywog, showing that he was infected from being down there. He didn’t die of thirst, but he WAS an incubator.

So the hive mind hatches a bunch of little demo-dogs this time, to go out and swarm like bees, find what they need.

Dart likes nougat of all things, which is sugar or honey whipped with egg whites. Egg whites provide protein and water to an embryo of a chicken. Dart literally ate Demogorgon baby food. 

I really think I might be onto something here.

[certkidwhocantdomath]

The artist's user is literally on the top and bottom of the art.

You May Just Live To Regret It

Additional tags: Blind Character, Blindfolds, Referenced Character Injury, Character Death, Angst, Hurt/no Comfort, Kenshi Takahashi needs a hug, Kenshi Takahashi-centric, Survivor's Guilt, Backgroud Relationship

☠◉☠◉☠◉☠◉☠◉☠◉☠◉☠◉☠◉☠◉☠◉☠◉☠

"I guess the ayes have it, outvoting Kenshi here. Motion carries!"

It should have been him.

"Lead the way, Ashrah."

It should have been him.

That’s what keeps echoing in Kenshi’s head, as he guides the hand on his shoulder through the Living Forest.

"Lagging behind, Takahashi? We gotta keep going."

He was scared to look back, like Orpheus, afraid that if he did, the person following him would be lost forever. Kenshi stepped up his pace following their new friend from the Netherrealm, Ashrah, in the hopes of finding Shang Tsung’s partner in crime.

"There you go. Don’t worry about me, Kendoll. I know it’s hard to stop thinking about me but we gotta find this Quan-Chi first."

It happened so fast, yet Kenshi knew he could have been faster, smarter, he could have fought off Mileena’s hold on his shoulders in her feral state, he could have shouted at Johnny earlier to duck but all he did was watch as Cage ripped the princess from him and she-

"God, this reminds me of Wicked Planet," Johnny mused, listening to the sounds of the forest around him.

Johnny will never be able to see a movie again.

The spine-chilling scream of agony echoes in his ears, drowning out his cry for Johnny, as Mileena’s sais stabbed into the star’s skull-

"We had this forest in the second act-"

Kenshi turned his head by instinct to ask, "The manticore battle?"

It was a mistake.

"Yes!"

The sight choked him with guilt painfully in his chest, Johnny’s smile marred by the red blindfold covering his gouged out eye sockets. The same salve treated cloth he wrapped as gently as possible around the man’s head, the barest he could do to relieve the immeasurable pain he had caused.

You saved me, and it cost you everything.

How can I ever forget that?

"It was a pain to shoot, but man did it come out epic."

Because of him, Johnny’s career, his entire livelihood, is over.

He can see how Johnny’s mood had improved since they escaped Shang Tsung’s laboratory, how Kenshi had angrily talked the martial arts actor out from leaving him there, dragging him out, because he had to live, he had to-

Takahashi smiled despite how horrible it felt to do so.

"I can picture it exactly."

And yet the smile was worth it to see Johnny brighten at his words, to feel then the assuring squeeze on his shoulder, silently communicating to him.

I’m not dead Takahashi. I’ll work my way round this, even if it takes years to do it.

If there was anyone who would change Hollywood to adjust to him, it was Johnny. He doesn’t know how, but…

Kenshi swears to help him every step away, to try and start repaying the star for saving his life.

╬╬═════════════╬╬

"Woah there, Samurai Jack. I gotta stop you right there."

Kenshi felt Johnny’s hand on his chest, stopping him from following Ashrah and the others from stopping Quan-Chi’s soul stealer machinations.

"Johnny, you heard her! Millions could die. And I can’t-"

I can’t stand by again and do nothing to stop it from happening.

"I know, Takahashi, I can’t fight with you guys. I’m blind now, not stupid."

That made Kenshi flinch, and the reaction distracted him enough for Johnny to unclip the sword from behind his back. The swordsman turned to face him and-

“Which is why we don’t want you tripping us up out there for the both of us.”

In Johnny’s hand was Sento, waiting to be taken.

Kenshi’s heart stopped.

Johnny pushed his ancestral sword, what he swore to reclaim, into his tattooed hands, grip tainted with the remains of the actor’s blood.

"What?!"

The man gave him his signature smile as he clipped the old sword to his back.

He didn’t deserve Sento anymore, if he ever did, why was he giving it to him, after he lost his sight because of him, leaving him vulnerable and unable to-

"I can’t. Not when you’re-"

It’s his fault, it’s all his fault-

It should have been him, not Johnny-

Johnny grabbed his wrist firmly, the star’s gaze piercing into him, even when blindfolded now.

"I saved your life. And when you save those people, your dept to me is repayed."

"Johnny, it-it's not that simple! I-"

"It is that simple."

Kenshi’s hands trembled slightly, Johnny’s hand coming to rest on his shoulder.

"It’s yours."

The Taira clan’s legacy, returned after centuries apart…

Kenshi raised the sheathed katana, feeling as though an invisible bond was reignited within him.

Then before he could utter another a word, say anything back to Johnny, thank him or protest he didn’t deserve it in his dishonor, Quan-Chi’s spell disrupted them, as the necromancer created a monstrous soul amalgamation they needed to stop now.

Kenshi Takahashi…

In your time of need, the Taira will not fail you.

:۞:••:۞:••:۞:••:۞:••:۞:

"Well... Clearly, I underpaid for that. Did you know it could do that?"

"The legends never mentioned mystical powers. The souls of my ancestors live within it... They intend to guide me."

"Just don’t forget who gave it to you, Takahashi."

"I swear on my life, Cage. I won’t."

❛ ━━━━━━･❪ ❁ ❫ ･━━━━━━ ❜

They were close to the portal, every battle they’d fought was won and all they had to do now was run as fast as they can from Sun Do’s forces. Quan-Chi may have escaped but what mattered more was their own withdrawal, back to Earthrealm, back to Liu Kang.

Johnny had given him Sento, with all that they went through together, and Kenshi could see it exactly, what he would do with the Taira’s ancestral sword guiding his clan out of the yakuza, freeing them, and being by Johnny’s side as they rebuilt their lives together-

"Run, Kenshi!"

Syzoth, Kung Lao and Ashrah made it past the glowing mist of the portal gate, disappearing to the other side and no doubt Kenshi knows when Liu Kang learns from them all that this mission, that yielded neither Shang Tsung nor Quan-Chi, cost the eyesight of one of his champions-

"Get them!"

"Johnny, we’re almost there!"

He refused to look back, he was sure they would make it, he was a hand outstretched away, the other holding Johnny’s-

Krakk!

Kenshi abruptly stopped dead in his tracks.

His hearing was deafened by the sharp sound of breaking bone.

He had to look back-

Slowly, agonizingly, his stomach dropped in what must have been a second to take in the sight-

Johnny raised his hand to grasp Reiko’s spear pierced through his chest, blood spilling out in a gasp. The blindfolded star took a step back from the strike, staggering.

No, no-

Outworld’s forces were closing the distance and Kenshi couldn’t move, he can’t, he has to-

Johnny, through the excruciating pain, smiled at him.

"See ya, Kenshi. Don’t forget to live, okay?"

Then before he could stop him, Johnny kicked him in the chest, sending Kenshi through the portal to Earthrealm and on the floor-

"Johnny, NO!"

And the last thing he saw before Liu Kang’s fire brought him back, was Johnny turning to face General Shao and his soldiers charging at him, the superstar smirking as he took his last stand.

─────────ೋღ 🥀 ღೋ─────────

After he had yelled his entire heart out, he began sobbing and weeping at the pain of losing a friend.

The weather must have known what he was feeling right now in this very moment. Because when he screamed his lungs and vocal cords out, thunder had struck next to him.

Another one of his loved ones..

Dead.

Just like Suchin.

Just like his mother.

Just like his father.

The gods must be punishing him for his sins as an assassin and working as a member of the yakuza.

"Kuso… Zenbu watashi no seida… Warui no wa watashida… Watashi ga subekidatta nda!" He whispered then yelled at himself.

Kenshi continued his mantra of survivor's guilt and self-loathing, uncaring about the violent rain hitting his back, until he noticed something shiny on the now muddy ground.

A dogtag.

His eye brows furrowed and he grabbed it and wiped the mud off.

The text on the dogtag brought more tears to his eyes.

JOHNNY CAGE

Blood: YOURS

Religion: CAGE

Johnny must have thrown it into the portal before it closed and before he was brutally killed. Johnny had told him about how his mother had this dogtag custom made for him as a birthday gift.

He brought the dogtag to his chest, right where his heart is, and clutched onto it like it was the most precious thing in the world. Because it is, his blood is on your hands and this dogtag is the only thing left of him.

Kenshi put the dogtag on and stood up. He wiped the tears from his eyes and started making his way towards the academy.

═════════•°•⚠•°•═════════

Kenshi entered the academy, not caring about the fact he was soaking wet, and was instantly greeted by several familiar face.

Kung Lao was the first to notice him. But he also noticed another thing.

"Kenshi, where's Johnny?"

Tears welled up in Kenshi's eyes again and he looked down at the ground and shook his head.

Silence.

Everyone knew what had happened.

Johnny is dead.

"H-how?-" Raiden attempted to ask but was interrupted by Kenshi.

"Stabbed through the chest by Reiko's spear." Kenshi's voice was hard and stern, clearly it intimidated everyone.

Or rather, nearly everyone.

Bi-Han walked towards him with his brothers attempting to stop him.

"Brother, please-" Kuai Liang tried.

Bi-Han walked up close to him and growled in his ear. "What did you just say?..." Bi-Han's voice was deeper and more intimidating than usual.

"I said, Johnny was stabbed through the heart by Reiko."

Bi-Han got even closer and more quietly whispered.

"You swore you would protect him. That you would bring him back me and his daughter."

Kenshi did swear that and he failed to fulfill that promise.

Having had enough, Kenshi walked past Bi-Han while aggressively and purposefully bumped his shoulder against Bi-Han's own.

When he passed Liu Kang, he brushes his cold wet sleeve against Liu Kang's.

Now, there was only one other person to face.

Cassandra Carlton "Cassie" Cage.

----AUTHOR'S NOTE----

Now I will admit, I've never written angst before but this was actually pretty good! And remember those coldstar headcanons centered around smut? That was my first time writing smut too!

Next will write about coldstar's first kiss and then Johnny's revival!

[land-of-holly]

Rings of Power Season 2 Episode 7 Liveblog

I heard we would have less Numenor in this episode. I feel like they're already doing more characterization spots than actual plot advancement, though that may be because I already know where the plot is going so it doesn't FEEL like advancement

Maybe more Arondir tho? Pls?? I miss him

I think we may be doubling down on the implication that the nine's mithril is actually Sauron's own blood. Isn't visual storytelling fun?

The fall of Ost-in-Edhil, as promised

Poor Tyelpe...

Somebody who knows more about metalcraft tell me how he is doing all of this hilariously wrong

Hello Mr. Mouse! He looks very polite, you should let him stay

THAT'S CREEPY PUT HIS REFLECTION BACK THE WAY IT WAS ANNATAR

Tyelpe unfortunately Annatar is going to have to ask for crunch time from you to cover for his own poor scheduling ability

Always love how media siege weaponry use seems to have no other strategy than modern artillery, ie keep hitting until you obliterate the entire fucking thing

Oh now he's "saving" them from their lord's neglect. Asshole.

DISNEY'S MULAN WAS NOT A TACTICAL MANUAL JFC ROCKS DO NOT WORK THAT WAY

That's the kind of thing you accomplish with WELL PLACED DYNAMITE

Arondir! Where did you come from?

(Seriously this show has no respect for time or distance)

I do appreciate every ring having its proper gem.

Warn him, Mr. Mouse!

T_T he's trying to find reality!

Time is money, Narvi! We need to cook dig!

Yayyyyy! Narvi!

Elf? Elf?

ELROND HOW DID YOU GET HERE

Honestly if he's not also here to defy his king I'm starting to wonder why

Nope it's not my audio, the drumbeats are actually not visually in synch with the soundtrack. What the hell, guys?

Elf! Extras! With bows!

Oh no is the mouse in a time loop?

Is Sauron's reach finally exceeding his grasp?

So it's on to strategy number 2, admit that he did it but pretend like it's all fine

"This is hardly a gift" nnnggggggg

We're in trailer territory fam

Lol it's all falling apart

This is absolutely the kind of thing I would expect to see in a good Silvergifting fic, and I mean that as the highest praise. The manipulation! The betrayal!

It's the black goop!

Noooo RIP Tyelpe

Gotta say, roughed up and bleeding looks reeeeally good on Charles Edwards

Come ON Mirdania, I know he comes off a little weird but you don't trust that fucker either!

Unfortunately Tyelpe is a little too harried to remember that blood color is literally THE easiest tell to hide with illusion magic

ANNATAR WHAT THE FUCK

WHAT THE FUCK

WHAT THE FUCK

wow i'm so glad i'm watching this at 7 am

JUSTICE FOR MIRDANIA

It's threats now

Tyelpe please tell me Feanor taught you about decision theory, you CANNOT respond to threats, that just leads to more threats!

Three armies?

ELF EXTRAS

WAR ELROND

Fine, fine, show off the Orc makeup

Ignore her, Elrond, she brought this on herself

Is Adar actually magicing away the sun and making shade just for his children? They do a lot with light in this show but that was a little heavy handed

STOP TALKING ABOUT HIS BEAUTY LEAVE HIM ALONE

Invoking Melian's wisdom is a really low blow. Everything could have gone so much better if anyone ever listened to her.

Elrond knows how to hit back where it hurts! How much do these guys really matter to you, Adar

ELROND IS A MASTER NEGOTIATOR!

Ew. This is some Twilight shit. He goddamn well better have had that ring in his mouth.

Because you always go into a negotiation with confidence, Vorohil!

That helmet needs like a chin strap, but I know those aren't sexy. Letting him have the helmet on at all is a huge ask for most of Hollywood

Durin Jr is a great leader!

Do not make your horse do that wtf

More surprise sinkholes

See??? He can't steal your helmet and show us all your pretty pretty face if you had it strapped on!

Elrond that was kinda cruel, take a deep breath dude

Battle battle fight fight

Now were seeing some tactical macinery use

You are gunning for a patricide my dude

She cannot be caged!

Time for Galadriel to grow an empathy??

I'm still not sure if Galadriel speaks Black Speech. I would assume so, it's useful

Arondir! Where have you been?

So she does know how to motivate people in a positive way

Narvi!!

Unfortunately Middle-earth works on narrativium, not statistics

Someone take away Sauron's literal Christian bible, please

Always focused on the end. Analysts are gonna have a field day with this

Opening up about the torture? I HAVE READ THIS FANFIC I STG.

THAT IS NOT A COMPLAINT

Literally some DARVO shit

THROW IT INTO THE FIRE

unfortunately I think that will not work

they're not even hot

come on Tyelpe you know there's only one way out of this shackle how many times did you see the aftermath lets go LETS GO

dear movie THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU

oh no the artillery just has it out for poor tyelpe

I am Appreciating Galadriel declaring Celebrimbor Lord of Eregion

I can accept replacement of escape with the Three by escape with the Nine. They set it up well enough, and the emotional thrust remains

Of course the difference is this plan is doomed

Okay but have these guys accepted that they are dumb as fuck and eminently susceptible to Sauron's manipulation?

Acceptable last words by poor Tyelpe

Rian MVP!

Damrod? Damrod??

You think a few swords can stop this guy?

See? Dumb as fuck, and very manipulable.

And now the torture, I assume

I never know what language these elves are going to be speaking when they open their mouths, it's great

Killing a hill troll is a group effort

War Gil-galad??

Glug is looking more and more treasony

Dwarves? No dwarves?

AEGLOS LETS GO

arondir no

you can't kill him girl your diversity

don't try to out loremaster elrond that's mean

hey that doesn't belong to you

put that back

WOW I didn't think it was possible for a show so overproduced to simply have a bad first season but they are really showing improvement in the second IMO! Can't wait for the finale!

[noorpersona]

Broken Telephone Pt. 4

A full week has passed since your dignity had been ripped to shreds, and since then you could say that it had been somewhat restored.

Emphasis on somewhat.

Now that the whole group was in on your dirty little secret, they refused to let it go. Well, just Itadori and Kugisaki, the second years didn’t really care all that much (Though they joined in on the fun sometimes). They would make sly comments whenever given the chance; always to the point that left your blood boiling and eyebrows twitching. You prayed that they would eventually forget about it, but with the way it’s going currently…

You’d say it’s pretty slim.

And to make matters even worse, you could tell that Fushiguro was beginning to notice the looks, the snickers and the inside jokes. With every jab at you, his suspicions would rise, along with your stress levels and blood pressure.

You could say with ease that your mental health was starting to take a nose dive when a certain someone decided to stop by for a quick chat.

“[Name]! Do you have a minute?” You turn from your book to see your teacher walking towards you with a huge smile on his face. You immediately took caution. You had seen enough of your questionable teacher to know what his smiles meant. And it was never good.

He was either going to bother someone or bother a group of people. It seems today the main target was you.

“I don’t have your shirt. I gave it to Kugisaki.” You return to your book, hoping he will take the hint and leave you alone.

But he doesn’t take it. Then again, he never does.

“I’m not here about that. I just wanted to check up on you.” You pause, looking up slowly with heavy disbelief, sighing, and closing your book already knowing that you weren’t going to get to it any time soon. “You? Wanted to check up on me? You?” Your voice is laced heavy with suspicion. Gojo only smiles.

“What’s wrong with a teacher checking up on a student?”

“Nothing wrong with it. It’s just that it’s You.” You watch your 28-year-old teacher pout. You start to feel a headache coming on.

“Why does everyone assume the worst in me?” You raise a brow.

“Because it’s You. There’s an ulterior motive in everything you do. Now what do you want?” Your teacher tsks, leaning against the rails of the stairs you were sitting on.

“I don’t want anything. I just wanted to congratulate you.” Your face morphs into confusion, then clear disdain and disgust.

“You congratulating me is creepy.”

“Why is it creepy?”

“Because it’s-“

“Don’t you have anything more original than ‘it’s you’? When you first got here you were witty, you know.” You only hum.

“Seems your classes have dumbed me down.”

“That’s a little better. Like a solid 4.” You roll your eyes. “Why are you congratulating me?” Gojo’s smile widens, and you can feel your heart sinking to your stomach. Oh, you didn’t like where this was going.

“On winning my blessing.” His voice is filled with pride, and you feel your soul bunch up in dread. You feel a lump start to form in your throat as you formulate your words.

“For what?” You almost didn’t want to ask with the way he’s acting. Gojo’s grin stretches a mile wide now, and you’ve quite literally never been more terrified.

“You and Megumi to start dating.”

And there it was. The thing you’ve been secretly hoping to never happen. The thing that kept you up at night, could cause sweat to cover your entire body in seconds.

Gojo knew about your crush.

You immediately start choking on your own spit, the shock of his words causing your entire brain to shut down for a second. You could hear the blood pounding in your ears as you stared at your worst nightmare materialized before your eyes Gojo's grin remained plastered across his face, clearly loving your reaction. You couldn’t play this off now, you couldn’t feign ignorance or confusion. He caught you off-guard and there was no denying it.

Fucker had you right where he wanted you.

You quickly realized that you quite literally had nothing to lose, seeing that everything was about to collide and go down the shithole. So, while seething, you asked through clenched teeth. “Who told you?” You wanted to, no, needed to know. Because that person was going to be put into a world of pain.

You would spare no expense.

“Call it a teacher’s intuition,” He chuckled, leaning back in absolute glee in your misery and anguish as if he had just achieved the greatest victory in the world. You could feel your face burning, a mixture of embarrassment, frustration, and betrayal churning inside you.

"Teacher's intuition? More like teacher's nosiness," you retort, trying to regain some semblance of composure despite feeling like the ground had opened up beneath you.

Gojo's grin only widened at your response. "Now, now, don't be too hard on your friends. It's not easy keeping secrets in a place like this." He seemed to revel in the discomfort he'd caused, thoroughly enjoying the situation.

You clench your fists, fighting the urge to march off or, better yet, fling some retort that might wipe that smug look off his face. Instead, you force a tight-lipped smile, trying to think quickly about damage control.

"So, what now? Planning our marriage?” The sarcasm dripped from your words.

Gojo laughed heartily, leaning closer as if sharing a conspiratorial secret. "Oh, no, not at all. I just wanted to be the first to offer my congratulations. And perhaps give you a little push in the right direction." His wink made you shudder.

"Right. Because that's what I needed today, more unsolicited advice," you mutter, feeling the weight of this revelation pressing down on you.

"Just think about it," Gojo teased, patting your shoulder before strolling off, leaving you in a whirlwind of emotions.

You slump against the railing, replaying the scene in your mind, trying to figure out who might've spilled the beans. The suspicion fell on Itadori and Kugisaki, the ones who had made your secret a running joke. But then, Fushiguro's recent observations made you wonder if he had caught on and confided in Gojo.

The idea of confronting anyone felt daunting. You didn't want to expose your vulnerability any further. You longed for a moment of peace, a chance to gather your thoughts without feeling like everyone was in on your personal struggles. Taking a deep breath, you straighten up, determined not to let this revelation completely unravel you. You gather your belongings, trying to focus on your studies despite the turmoil brewing within. The day had taken an unexpected turn, and navigating through it without feeling like your whole world was spinning out of control seemed like an impossible task.

[nutzworth]

its 6/12! i HAVE to read homestuck! i didnt read ANY last month. oops

DAY 9: JUNE 12, 2024

STATS: read for 2 hours and 30 minutes pages read: 1903-2068. 165 pages. act 5!!!!!! page 2000! slur count: 13 + 0 = 13 silly count: 13 + 0 = 13 piss count: 2/3

THOUGHTS: ohhh my god. ok not much original thought here but by god did a lot happen

ok LOTS OF TROLLS. this time. but we will get into that later

johnkat is so funny. karkat just kind of sucks. i guess were getting into it now HES SO FUNNY! hes so mean. esp to his troll friends in act 5. he has no whimsy and no fun. he loves to lie. hes oppressed hes a MUTANT yet he wants to join the military. even though the military would KILL HIM for being who he is. ohhh my god. his clean ass room. his romcoms. he loves romcoms. he sucks at programming. he keysmashes in here WHATEVER. back to the kids

soooo much guardian lore... so much LORE. i love nanna and i love pa harley. and their upbringing THEYRE SO WEIRD.

(about pa harley) ADVENTURE!!!! oh my god. "She can handle it, he tells her. He believes in her." AHHHHHHHH!!!!!! HOPE PLAYER! i love the hope aspect im gonna go crazy in act 6 when jake is there. but right now? this is FOOD. im EATING IT UP!

michael guy bowman is so john egbert voice. its canon that dave strider is a whiteboy and that michael guy bowman is literally john egbert and thats IT.

dave is being so rude and mean to terezi. for the girl that said to john "WOW. MAKING FUN OF A BLIND GIRL? FUCKED UP!!!!!" she sure does turn a blind eye (LOOOL) to dave being like "yeah me and this guy? all up best friends. you know why? we can both see. and were going to this see party and theres so much shit and paintings and its great. to look at. and FUCK YOU. for being BLIND." and terezis cackling about her wonderful D4V3 1S TH1S YOU? drawings. theyre funny

[S] DESCEND!!!!!!!!! oh my god. what a flash. this would make me crazy if i was an upd8 reader. JACK NOIR IS INSANE. HE JUST KILLS EVERYONE! the music is sooo good too. it matches so well. its SCARY.

speaking of jack noirs destruction: ok here's more about wv. this is probably so surface level but it drives me crazy i need to restate it ok wv is a regular ass farmer. hes normal. the WAR comes. hes like GOD THIS SUCKS! he starts a revolution. he unites both sides. hes radical hes powerful and by god is he AWESOME. he faces jack noir. him and his big ass army. jack noir KILLS ALL OF THEM. ALL OF THEM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! THEYRE ALL DEAD! except wv. which hussie puts it in the recap "Jack then killed the entire rebellion army, sparing only WV?. Perhaps to leave a survivor to tell the story, or perhaps out of respect for a fellow mutineer. Only he knows." WHAT????? WHAT!???? OKAY and so wv is surrounded by his brethren. his friends. his army. ALL DEAD. and at the same time prospit falls to skaia. and out from it is johns dream self. and a PLUSHIE. OF JACK NOIR.

this is insane. its like humiliating. its awful. its like jack is laughing at wv's face. oh my god. anyway wv rips it apart and hes real for that. I LOVE YOU WV!!!!!!!!!!!

not to mention PM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! let me just put some badass images in here. so you know

SHES SICK!!!!!!!!!!!!! shes pissed off shes SO pissed off. she kills hb and uses his walkie talkie to call over jack noir. shes standing on that hill with the blood of jack's coworker flowing in the adjacent creek holding both the crowns covered in blood. she gets the promised package and SHOVES it in johns arms and storms off. shes PISSED OFF!!!! RIGHTFULLY SO! OH MY GOD!

and then the PACKAGE.... obviously you KNOW im crazy about the jake english cameo. but also....

this made me crazy. i like almost cried. oh my god. shes JUST DEAD. ON THE FLOOR. JOHNS SITTING THERE READING THESE LETTERS AND JADE IS DEAD!!!! IN FRONT OF HIM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! sob. oh my god. and he sheds One tear. and then jack comes to kill him

i loooove how homestuck goes panel-heavy sometimes... along with the short "a [...] is [...]. [...], [...]." which makes no sense in writing. let me give you some examples

i love it. it makes the reading more poetic and slow. its like, make your own opinions on the subject matter. its matter-of-fact. its simple. its SAD. its like this event is so disconnected from everything were going in third person to describe it. its curt and its AWESOME. I LOVE IT!!!! i think if skaia had dialogue or narration or anything this is what it would sound like. it would give you pictures and a short description, and it would say "go fetch".

ok recap. not much but hussie says "Back in the meteor lab, John began the ectobiology session which appeared to have been prepared for him in advance by the guardians who had just been there." which i think is so cute. the guardians prepared it FOR him.... homestuck is truly a story about kids and the things that control/lead them. guardians/skaia/fate/each other/first guardians(bec, doc scratch). even the story itself. so awesome

THEN ACT 5!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! the silly name for alternia translates to "turd odor fuckball" which is funny. and karkats silly name translates to "nookstain bulgereek" which makes sense

whats REALLY interesting to me is karkats parallels with dave. even in these first few pages karkat is SO SIMILAR to him. both slice their teasing names in half and say that they dont have time. theyre "Kind of a big deal, ok?". they have a need to seem "cool". karkat narration has the line "This was not the coolest thing you could have done just now." which threw me for a loop: i never thought of karkat needing to seem Cool. but he does he wants to. hes a leader. he pretends to be a leader. he doesnt want to show to sollux that he thinks highly of him cus he needs to seem COOL. i love karkat

alternia is a planet full of tragedy. they need to sleep in sopor slime to assuage the nightmares of "blood and carnage". theyre surrounded by so much evil and destruction that they need DRUGS EVERY NIGHT to be normal. auuugh.

honestly i pity gamzee waaaay more than i pity karkat. karkat has it good for all i care in the beginning. hes just not sharing his blood color. GAMZEE THOUGH? everyone thinks hes annoying. you can tell hussie writes him as if he's a joke; its clear hussie hates gamzees character and wants you to hate him too. but i cant. hes a hippie and an addict and a black boy. and i feel SO BAD that hes written like that. he could have been great if he wasnt in this situation :-( im sorry gamzee

rip sollux you would have loved reddit

karkat at the end of the karkat/sollux convo kills me. "hey i know we just bantered about how much we hate each other and stuff, but are we still friends?" hes so cute. are we still friends. yeah... yeah. and sollux is like "you say this EVERY TIME. are you joking" and karkats like "Yeah. Yeah im joking haha. Sure am" the poor guy. just wants friends THEYRE JUST KIDS!!!!!! SOB!!

i love terezi. shes so ANNOYING. and i love her for it. shes just fooling around all the time. she wants to piss people off. "Ohhhh karkat youre sooooo handsome and heroic!" hahahahahaha. she does NOT care. "But all of your scalemates are alive to you. ... At least you pretend to believe that to annoy people." SHES SO FUNNY! she gives NO fucks. i love how shes drawn too

then karkat comes in all like HEY TEREZI. IM THE LEADER!!!!!!!! FUCK YOU! what an asshole. but terezi dont care. you know what she does? "lol ok." and then "yeah the leader goes on this badass and seriously cool heroic adventure and hes awesome. and me (the second in command) gets to sit down and do nothing and be bored and its no fun" and karkats like "YEAHHH!!!! IM THE HERO! WOOOO!" and then it cuts to the actual game and terezis been fooling around with her gamey god powers. hahahahahahaha so awesome

okay thats it. i love aradia i saw like 2 of her. maaaybe ill read more this summer :-) bye bye thanks!

[stingslikeabee]

"calm down—you're safe." [ @withthedoubleg, i gave in 😔 ]

send 'calm down, you are safe' for my muse's reaction . accepting . @withthedoubleg

No one really questioned why the Killer Queen was located far from the city center and off most roads; with a side business like the one Melissa conducted and considering the clientele she received, it would attract too much attention if they were to relocate to some 'proper' neighborhood. Being away and discreet helped everyone - well, except when they didn't play by the rules.

The fact remained that the 'no fighting' commandment was enforced out of habit - Melissa obviously lacked the means to get people to obey and she didn't have ostensive security. But most of those who sought her as a tipster knew about it and that verbal agreement had always been respected - after all, the barmaid was merely the intermediary and had no hand in everything else.

But not everyone thought the same - and every now and then, a few unhappy customers who had lost the bidding to another party decided to jump Melissa after closing. It was convenient that the surrounding area where she parked was not always illuminated and that the woman frequently left last - a good target for those who expected her to put up no fights given her obvious disadvantages.

Unfortunately, Melissa had poor impulse control (and a couple of hidden blades, plus beginner self-defense training), which sometimes was enough to get people off-guard and enable her escape. But this time, numbers were a problem - four guys, strong and looking like they could rip her apart with their bare hands, speaking angrily in a language she didn't understand and who were fast to pin her to a wall and threaten her with sharp objects of their own.

Literally cornered, the woman screamed - a pure instinct-driven reaction, mostly because she knew the chances of people being around (and willing to intervene) were very slim. However, she failed to realize that the small, garish stone which had been fashioned into a pendant had grown warm and glowed a few moments ago - it meant that Melissa was not a threat in itself, but the person who gifted her that trinket very much was.

It wasn't until oppressive and intense darkness fell over the small parking lot that the barmaid realized what had happened - the feeling was familiar, but this time... It was strangely comforting. Instead of feeling like she couldn't breathe, Melissa was freed of the digits pressing around her throat, the sounds reaching her next translating the profound terror that the unknown men were likely experiencing at the hands of Randall Flagg.

Once moonlight was restored, the scene of a small battlefield was unveiled - four corpses, not mauled beyond recognition but clearly mutilated in a way to ensure painful and yet quick deaths. Randall himself was a mess - he was covered in blood, but his eyes were shining with some emotion that she couldn't describe or name, but which fundamentally took the air out of her lungs in an entirely different way.

Melissa needed some time to realize she could move - not because she had been rooted to the ground by some unknown force, but rather given how close she had been to serious, evident harm. And yet, one might have argued that the true menace was the man walking towards her - after all, Randall had destroyed the attackers like they barely stood a chance.

(They didn't - not against him.)

"Calm down - you're safe," Randall said, eyeing Melissa like someone who was a connoisseur of something rare and could sense the scream that was locked in place in her throat, the panic of moments before still injecting adrenaline in her blood. And his voice - so soft, so full of a warmth that translated safety in the barmaid's mind - made her walk forward, bumping into his chest with a tight hug and burying her face directly into the fabric of his clothes.

He had once remarked on her inability to run away from danger - Melissa was now going straight for it, enveloping it in a hug and caring nothing for the blood that stained her in return.

"Thank you," came the reply, muffled as she spoke against him, hands pulling at the front of his shirt like a scared child who was now coming to terms that there was nothing to fear. It was paradoxical - the most terrifying thing was now returning the embrace, holding her to soothe whatever lingering anxieties remained, surrounded by dead bodies and blood.

Melissa never felt safer - after all, when was a monster not a monster?

When you loved it.

[heisenho]

Karl x Fem!Reader that also has the ability to bend metal and being his little apprentice. Like they go from mentoring to lovers?

Power

[Karl Heisenberg x Fem!Reader]

Warnings: 18+, MINORS DNI! Good ol' pussy eatin', Karl being a bit of a dick, just normal re8 stuff.

A/N: This was so fun to write, i do hope you like it! Thanks so much for this request! This is more... uh reader loathing karl and then letting him mentor her, and then they become lovers. i hope that is okay dfijffnwfjw

“Fuck!” You screamed out, stomping your foot. “Why can’t I just live with Lady Dimitrescu?”

You were growing angry. Rage boiled inside of you. You let out a loud, shrill scream and slammed your foot against the metal you were supposed to be moving around with your fucking mind.

“Shit!”

Another yell. You grabbed your foot and fell to the ground, rolling in the dirt for a minute.

“Get the fuck up.”

You stopped your rolling and your eyes shot towards Heisenberg. You stood up and glared at him. You crossed your arms and stepped closer to him.

“Girl,” Heisenberg growled, “You do not wanna do that.”

When you were first sent to live with Heisenberg, you were sure it was going to be hell, he was terrifying. But now, it was hell because he was being bossy.

“You’re lucky I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing. Otherwise... You’d be-”

“What? What would I be?

Your arms fell to your sides, your fingers digging into your palms. You screamed again and turned to stomp away from Heisenberg. His jacket rustled and you ignored it, thinking he was probably going to fuck around with his powers just to show off.

Show off, he did.

A piece of metal came flying towards your legs and wrapped around your shins, knocking you to the ground. A scared noise fell from your lips and you scratched at the ground, trying your best to stop whatever was happening. Once it registered that you were not about to get away, you let yourself slide towards Heisenberg.

The metal around your legs began to pull you upwards and you tensed. You truly had not expected to start fucking floating. The metal tightened as your moved higher into the air, thankfully Heisenberg seemed to not want to drop you.

“Oh, if only there were a way you could escape this.”

You swung your arm out and let out a strangled, stressed scream as he caught it. “Karl, let me down right now!”

Blood was starting to rush to your head. Heisenberg was deadpan, watching you struggle. He didn’t look comfortable, but he also was letting it happen. As you were leaning up, pulling at the metal, Heisenberg reached up to you, the metal falling and you dropping into his arms.

He quickly set you down and began to walk back to his factory. “C’mon, we’ll try again tomorrow.”

You looked down at the metal and tried your best, really giving it your all, and moved your hand outward, towards it, but nothing happened.

“Karl,” you let out a soft whine, “I can’t do this.”

Karl came up from behind and sighed. You knew for sure he was about to pull some more bullshit, so you tensed. Karl’s face dropped, his eyes softening, but you couldn’t quite see that. You could, however, hear Karl sigh.

“We’re gonna try something different.” Karl stepped behind you and your body only tensed even more.

Karl placed his gloved hand on your bicep and slid it down your arm, causing your breath to catch in your throat. “Focus on the metal,” he brought your hand upwards and uncurled your fingers, which were digging into your palm. “Just think about moving it, it’ll come naturally.”

You nodded and relaxed into him, “Okay.”

Suddenly the metal moved. You gasped and practically ripped away from Karl, your excitement bubbling over. You turned and looked at him with wide eyes.

“I did it!”

“Told ya it wasn’t hard.”

You huffed at him, “You literally dragged me around the dirt yesterday, sir! Do not go talking about this bein’ easy!”

Karl snorted, “Whatever, girl,” his eyes rolled behind his sunglasses. “Now, we can get to the actual training.”

You stood across from Karl, in the scrapyard, your fingers twitching at your sides. You were finally getting good at whatever the hell Miranda had “blessed” you with, and Karl was taking training up a notch.

The metal began to float around you causing you to feel a little anxiety. You brought your arms up, palms facing Karl, and you pushed some of the metal back towards him. As you did that, he snapped his fingers, effortlessly causing a piece of metal to fly at you. A short whine escaped you as it scraped your cheek.

Warmth ran down your cheek. Blood.

“Not fair!”

“Life isn’t fair, Kitten,” Karl smirked.

You blinked, and your hands fell down to your sides. Your entire body tensed and without even thinking, you caused the metal to shift around you. Every single piece, even the ones near Karl, hit the ground. Hard.

“That’a girl!”

Karl walked towards you and smiled proudly. Your stomach twisted and you swallowed hard. Something about that pet name, and the way he said it... He had your stomach in knots. You gave him a nervous smile and nodded.

“Thanks. I totally meant to do that.”

Karl laughed, “Let’s go inside, I think that’s enough for today. Anyway,” Karl brought his gloved hand to your cheek, “You’re bleeding. You need to clean that up.”

Without thinking, you swatted him away and leaned back from him. Karl, unbeknownst to you, was not a fan of that reaction. His face dropped, slightly, before he gave you a cocky grin once more.

The both of you walked in, and you knew you were going to have to deal with your new feelings, one way or another.

It had been about a week since ‘the incident’ and you could not get the way he called you ‘kitten’ out of your head. He hadn’t said it since, he had barely gotten close to you unless he was training with you, and even then he kept his distance.

You had to find a way to relieve stress and you had to find one soon. Being a desperate woman, you decided, when there was a family meeting, you were going to find one of Alcina’s daughters and ask her for help.

And you did just that.

“Daniela,” You pulled her to the side and prayed that Karl wouldn’t find you, “I need help.”

“Ooooh~” She let out a laugh, or what you could only assume was a laugh, “what does the newest member of the family need?”

“Please keep quiet, this is important to keep between us, and only us.”

“Of course,” she grabbed your shoulder and smiled at you.

‘Maybe she’s trying to make me feel less scared?’ You thought. “Anyway...” You tried to shrug her hand away, “Look, do you ladies have any... toys. Just, like, around the castle?”

“Toys?” Daniela cocked her head, “I didn’t think you wanted to play with men?”

Your eyes widened, “No! Sex toys!” You hissed at her.

Her eyes lit up, “Oh! Of course. Follow me, my cute little pet.”

And just like that, you were completely set up to relieve your stress.

Finding a secluded area was not the easiest. So many of Karl’s little experiments wandered around. But once you found it, you were ecstatic.

You were sprawled out on a small pallet you had made. You had surrounded yourself with some metal, a barrier between you and the creatures that could find you. Keeping it up was becoming a hassle, especially once you started feeling immense pleasure.

You had been messing around with yourself for a good half of the day. You had somehow convinced Karl to let you wander off and not work that day. He said he had things he needed to tend to, and let you go off on your own.

You were taking breaks in between sessions, but nothing was like the real thing. The vibrations of the toy were sending shockwaves through your body. You were getting close to the edge, toes curling, eyes rolling back, and body tensing. And, unlike all your other orgasms, you let out a loud whimper.

“Hey, girl-” Karl called out, obviously looking for you.

“Karl-” You moaned out, not registering Karl’s voice.

Something had come over you, you were completely wrecked by the thought of Karl having his way with you. To the point where you called out for him. And he most definitely heard you.

The metal dropped around you and you, suddenly, you were forced to face Karl. Once and for all. A scream ripped from your throat and you closed your legs, pulling your large, button up shirt, over your knees.

“Fuck!” You yelled, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t-”

“Damn,” Karl, being the extreme gentleman he was, noticed you weren’t entirely comfortable and covered his eyes. “If you needed some help you could have asked.”

“Karl!” You shouted throwing the sex toy to the side. Face burning, body trembling, mind filled with pure embarrassment, you just sat on the floor, “Shut up!”

Suddenly, you realized what he said. Your jaw dropped and your arms, that were wrapped around your legs, tensed.

“Last chance,” Karl smirked, eyes still hidden, “you obviously need-”

“Okay.”

That was all he needed to hear. His hand dropped from his face and he stalked towards you. Without a word, Karl leaned down, picked you, and tossed you over his shoulder. Letting out a small gasp, you hung down his back. One of his hands held you steady while the other rested on your ass.

The both of you reached his ‘room’, just an area with a mattress on the ground not as many experiments around. Karl placed you down on the mattress and leaned over you, he peeked over his sunglasses at you.

“You have no clue how long I’ve wanted this.”

Heisenberg’s mouth was the shell of your ear, his breath causing your body to react in the best way possible. He pulled back and stared you down, like a predator ready to devour their prey. Your knees knocked together and you were looking up at Heisenberg with big doe eyes. His large calloused hand grabbed one of your knees and he pulled your legs apart, gently.

“I was wondering where that shirt went...”

“Well, maybe if you had more shirts you wouldn’t have noticed.”

Karl chuckled, a rumble coming from his chest, and you felt like you had made some type of mistake, “Are you sure you wanna get that tone with me, kitten?”

“Yes...” It sounded more like a question than an answer, but the confidence was almost there.

“How are you so bratty, yet so cute?” Karl positioned himself between your legs.

You shrugged, unable to find words to say. Your brain was malfunctioning at the worst time. You had thought about this moment, even dreamed of it, and now there you sat, looking like some deer in headlights. You were vulnerable and so small compared to him.

“You sure you’re up for this, kitten? You’re looking a little-”

“I’m good!” Your voice cracked, “You have no clue how much I’ve wanted this- you. I just kinda thought you... hated me.”

Karl cocked his head at you, “How? You’re fucking amazing. I thought you hated me, the way you tensed when we were training... I just assumed you were afraid.”

“Karl,” you spoke so calmly, as if you weren’t almost naked and completely vulnerable under him, “as I said before, you dragged me through the dirt with metal...”

“That was just tough love,” Karl smirked down at you, before his facial features softened, “I can make it up to you?”

You nodded, wondering what he had in mind.

“Lean back,” he moved down, positioning himself between your legs, his body keeping your legs from closing.

You complied of course, and leaned back for him. Your back hit the mattress and you let out a shaky sigh. Karl began to softly kiss up your thigh, his large hands pulling your legs further apart. Your hands gripped at the bare mattress below you and you arched into Karl’s mouth.

Once he reached your cunt, you let out a soft moan, waiting for more. One of Karl’s hands gripped at your hip, while the other pulled your shirt up further. His hand quickly moved from your shirt and to your bare ass.

“I promise, I’ll be gentle,” Karl murmured right before his tongue licked a stripe up your pussy.

You gasped. God, it was everything you had imagined, and better. His tongue quickly found your clit and he sucked at it, briefly, before getting back to your pussy.

You let out a soft hum of pleasure, your hands knocking his hat off and grabbing at his hair. You pulled at it and Karl immediately stopped.

“Girl,” his chest rumbled, and his eyes snapped up at you, “I don’t think you’re prepared for what that brings.”

You couldn’t answer, you were genuinely too in the moment to register anything but your own pleasure. And you were getting close to cumming. Your back arched, and your toes curled, once his lips met your throbbing pussy again.

“Karl,” your voice was loud, but not loud enough.

“Kitten, who’s making you feel this good?”

“You- You are!”

Your feet jerked, pulling you up on your tiptoes, and your back curved, causing your hips to push into Karl, letting his tongue go deeper.

“Karl! I’m- I’m gonna-” You were cut off, everything becoming too much.

You gasped loudly and the entire factory shifted and groaned. Your eyes screwed shut and your entire body tensed under him. Karl did not slow. You felt the metal around you beginning to move.

Your eyes snapped open, just in time for you to witness the metal starting to come to life around the two of you. You fell, your back colliding with the mattress once more, and the metal fell back down. The factory stopped creaking, the only noise now being your loud panting.

“Damn, girlie,” Karl brought his face up to yours, “you’re more powerful than I thought...”

Karl gave you a kiss, and you quickly deepened it. Your arms wrapped around his neck and held himself above you. Your legs wrapped around his waist and you softly mewled beneath him. Reluctantly, Karl pulled away and pressed his forehead to yours.

“How about-” he paused, thinking about his wording, “how about we take this shit over? Fuck everyone else. Me and you, kitten, that’s all that matters.”

You quickly answered, unsure if it was the fact he just ate your pussy, the love you felt for him, or your genuine hate for Mother Miranda. Or all of the above, “How about we fuck first? The vibrator just wasn’t doing it. We can think about world domination after sex.”

“I like the sound of that.”

[medics-secret-shipfic-folder]

May I request some ship headcanons you have for classic heavy x classic medic

Yes you may! Although a lot of this is pulled directly from what I've written for Take Back The Fortress.

Cheavy is violently protective of Cmedic and is quick to pull him out of danger regardless of the situation (it's just a Heavy thing).

Cmedic is the same way, but is arguably more dangerous because nobody expects a Medic to be capable of ripping someone's head off.

Although Cmedic has a PhD and is well-educated (compared to Medic), he is nonetheless very accident prone. This has lead to Cheavy watching him like a hawk whenever Cmedic is mixing chemicals together.

Cheavy and Cmedic commonly went on missions together. Those missions usually ended in Cmedic doing something that nearly gets them both caught, but somehow managing to pull a win out of it. Cheavy has high blood pressure because of how many times this has happened.

Cmedic is calmer than his modern counterpart...mostly. He occasionally has moments of offbeat craziness that can catch Cheavy off guard.

Cmedic is permanently covered in a variety of deadly chemicals. Cheavy learned this the hard way when he tried to hug him. He got a faceful of tear gas and Cmedic had to spend the next hour dumping milk into his eyes to relieve the pain.

Cmedic thought that a "red light district" was a traffic job and referred to his old job as one of these "districts." Cheavy had to be the bearer of bad news and Cmedic couldn't sleep for a week upon realizing his massive error.

Cheavy's goggles have prescription lens' in them (because old man) and Cmedic was the one to install them after noticing Cheavy's poor aim.

Despite Cmedic's reputation of being accident prone, Cheavy still holds him in high regard as a field medic (more than Medic, at any rate)

Cmedic has a habit of biting people if he doesn't have his breather on. Cheavy once saw him do this to an enemy merc and nearly laughed himself to death.

Cmedic sometimes forgets to take off his uniform before going to bed, and Cheavy has had to kick him out of the room to change. (understandable, since I don't think anyone wants to sleep on a pillow covered in mustard gas)

Although they do know each other's names, Cheavy and Cmedic refer to each other as "Sir" and "Doc" respectively. This has more to do with muscle memory than anything else.

Cmedic thinks Cheavy looks hot in a leather jacket, but hasn't told anyone out of embarrassment.

Cheavy has devil wings tattooed on his back, and Cmedic has a matching pair of angel wings. They did not coordinate this, this was just a happy accident.

Take Back The Fortress headcanons from here on:

They haven't seen each other in 20 years due to Cmedic mysteriously disappearing from the team one day. Cheavy refused to hire another Medic for that time, much to the rest of the team's chagrin. Turns out, Cmedic never died, but was kidnapped in the middle of the night and arrested by a mysterious government agency known as the DAPC. Cheavy proceeded to kill several of their agents upon learning this.

Heavy and Medic like Cmedic, which is the only reason they tolerate Cheavy's presence. Cmedic also likes Heavy and Medic, which is why Cheavy tolerates their presence. Cmedic is literally the glue holding these four idiots together.

Cheavy once worked for a gang of derby queens known as the Sisterhood of Blood. He is absolutely terrified of their leader, Bloodmaw, but Cmedic thinks she's cool. Cheavy thinks Cmedic is absolutely crazy for this.

Cmedic's return ends up being the catalyst for Cheavy changing his ways in Take Back The Fortress, which serves as the basis for Cheavy's entire character arc.

Medic builds Cmedic his own Medigun. Cheavy is initially hesitant to trust it, but does let Cmedic use it on him. Afterwards, Cmedic is the one to convince Cheavy to undergo the surgery that will allow him to withstand an Ubercharge.

When Cmedic is discovered in chapter 3, he's already been corrupted by the Shadow Blight. Cheavy does NOT want to fight him and instead tries to restrain him during the entire confrontation.

Cheavy was initially shocked that Cmedic wasn't upset with Medic and Heavy for killing the TFC team...at least until Cmedic explains why he isn't upset. Cmedic hasn't seen the TFC team in 20 years and likely wouldn't recognize any of them, so he literally can't feel anything about their deaths.

[robininthelabyrinth]

3. I have no idea if this time line would work, but MYX and XY get attached to each other, so when the time comes that MYX and XY need to leave Koi Tower, JGY helps them get married in secret and run away to Dongu. Anyways, a few years latter, JGY has a kid that needs to go and people in a removed location that owe him favors! Isn’t that a wonderful combination! A Jin(?) Rusong raised by Uncles Mo and Xue, or whatever they go by these days, would be very chaotic. Bonus: they start a relatively safe demonic cultivation sect, maybe with some guidance from the Nie (has NMJ never been killed by the Jin in this Au?), or more specifically, Huaisang. SL and XXC who got a happy ending decide to check out this no blood line sect (it looks slightly dubious, but surely can’t be to bad! Right?) A-Qing at least is enjoying her new friend -🟪🦋

Should Have Been Listening - ao3

“Let go of me.”

“I won’t,” Mo Xuanyu said, clutching Xue Yang’s arm. “I won’t, I won’t! You’re my only friend here!”

Xue Yang looked down at him in what he thought was mostly exasperation, but might have also been a little fondness – after all, if it’d been anyone else who’d grabbed him, he’d have stabbed them.

He still didn’t know why he didn’t stab Mo Xuanyu, too, but in all honesty, he wasn’t that interested in exploring it. He did what he wanted, and right now, he didn’t want to murder Mo Xuanyu.

Irritating as he sometimes was.

“Little brat,” he said. “I have important business to go do.”

“It’s not something that he ordered, though!”

“So what?” Xue Yang bristled. “I don’t just do what hetells me!”

“But that means he won’t cover for you, and that means you’ll get in trouble!” Mo Xuanyu argued. “How can I let you go all alone to get in trouble? You have to take me with you! What will you do without me? Who’ll keep you entertained and sneak sweets for you if not for me?”

Xue Yang’s lips twitched. Okay, maybe there was a reason he kept the brat around.

“You don’t understand,” he said. “This is something I’ve got to do – something I’ve wanted to do for a long time. I’m going to kill a lot of people and get into a lot of trouble, more trouble than ever before. I’ll probably lose my life. How can I possibly take you with me?”

Mo Xuanyu scowled up at him. It was a very weak scowl – barely more than a pout. “You think that’s going to make me not want to come with you?”

Xue Yang’s eyebrows went up. “You cry at the sight of blood!”

“I cry at a lot of things!”

Xue Yang wasn’t sure how to respond to that. It was true, Mo Xuanyu cried at a lot of things.

“Maybe if I come with you, it won’t be so bad!”

Yeeeeah, Xue Yang wasn’t going to count on that.

“Or maybe you don’t have to go…?”

“I have to go,” he explained. “If I don’t go, I can’t get revenge, and I have to have revenge.”

Mo Xuanyu blinked up at him.

“I don’t really understand, but okay,” he said, and tugged on his arm. “Let’s go together, then. I promise I won’t cry!”

-

He cried.

He cried a lot.

-

“Stop fucking crying.”

-

“Just – ugh. Listen. You’re ruining the mood.”

-

“If you can’t stop crying, go away. Now. Or I’ll stab you!”

-

“Okay, see, look, I just killed the leaders, see? Just the old men. Everyone else is just locked in their rooms. Once the sect leader comes back, I’ll kill him too, and that’ll be all. Okay? Everyone else lives. I promise. Now stop crying, okay?”

-

“I don’t want to know,” Jin Guangyao said when they got back. “I don’t want to know at all.”

“Good,” Xue Yang grumbled. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Enough people heard about the reason for what you did that opinions are mixed as to whether your actions were the Chang clan’s just rewards for their former misdeeds or if they were actually wrong,” Jin Guangyao said. He looked irritated. “But you still killed high-ranking members of a sect, and you left enough alive that they’re demanding your head on a platter. You’re going to need to run away.”

Mo Xuanyu hesitantly gestured as if he wished to speak.

“Yes, you can go with him. Now that my father is dead, no one cares where you are.”

Mo Xuanyu beamed.

“You’re just going to let us go?” Xue Yang asked suspiciously. “That seems unlike you. What’s in it for you?”

“Oh, I’m not just going to let you go. I’m going to give you money, too,” Jin Guangyao said. “And all you need to do for me is one little tiny favor –”

Pity that that was when Xue Yang stopped listening, too busy staring at Mo Xuanyu’s delighted face and counting all the way he was in for it now.

-

“I’ve always wanted to take care of a baby,” Mo Xuanyu said happily.

“Good for you,” Xue Yang said darkly as he stalked through the streets.

He would rather that Jin Guangyao had needed a body buried and a death covered up or something – and judging by the baby’s perturbed expression, it probably agreed with him. Fuck, maybe Jin Guangyao had meant for them to murder the baby once they got it far enough out of the way. It was just as plausible as Mo Xuanyu's assumption that they were supposed to take care of it.

Damnit, maybe he should have been listening.

“Listen, neither of us are equipped to handle a baby. Go find a woman to help us – someone poor and helpless who doesn’t have any other choice.”

“Okay!”

-

Xue Yang shut his eyes. “What exactly,” he said slowly, “did you think I asked you to get us a woman for, exactly?”

“To…watch the baby?” Mo Xuanyu guessed. “When we’re busy or sleeping? Anyway, what’s wrong with A-Qing, anyway? She’s nice!”

“I’m not nice,” A-Qing said. The damn brat was smirking – and for once it wasn’t his damn brat, but some blind brat with a cocky expression. “I stole your wallet and you burst into tears and it was really embarrassing.”

“He does that,” Xue Yang said wearily. At least he’d noticed the theft this time – all of his lessons in ‘how not to be a sucker and get constantly taken advantage of’ were maybe having something of an impact. Maybe. “For some reason I’m apparently into it.”

He couldn’t explain it any other way.

“…loser.”

“I will stab you,” Xue Yang threatened. “I don’t care if you’re blind.”

“Won’t someone tell me why A-Qing isn’t a perfectly good babysitter?” Mo Xuanyu demanded. He was holding the baby in his arms again – the baby liked him more than it did Xue Yang, which meant that between Mo Xuanyu and the baby, the baby had better self-preservation instincts – and he was trying his best stern scowl which was of course barely more than a pout and a so-called ‘fierce’ expression that made Xue Yang want to laugh.

Not even Mo Xuanyu’s horrific make-up skills could make thatface intimidating. Or maybe it was just that the person behind the face was just so completely unthreatening that there was no help for it?

“Well? Tell me!”

Xue Yan opened his mouth, then shrugged and shut it again.

A-Qing patted Mo Xuanyu on the shoulder. “I’m too young. No milk.”

“…milk?”

“You know. The thing babies eat?”

“…milk,” Mo Xuanyu repeated, only now he looked absolutely heartbroken at having failed the mission that Xue Yang had assigned him almost entirely just to get him out of the way while Xue Yang collected some spare cash and threatened their way onto a ride out of this piece of shit town.

“It’s fine,” Xue Yang said hastily. “We’ll just get a goat or something, I don’t know.”

“Okay, I actually only came here to laugh at you,” A-Qing said. “But now I’m legitimately worried about this baby. Don’t you two know anything? How’d you even get a baby, anyway?”

-

“Stop laughing. It’s not that funny.”

-

“Seriously. Stop laughing, or I stab you.”

“Don’t worry, A-Qing,” Mo Xuanyu said. “He doesn’t mean it! Threats are just how he expresses affection!”

“It most certainly is not.”

“That is absolutely amazing,” A-Qing said, wiping her eyes. “Best thing I’ve ever heard., if by best I mean worse-but-hilarious. I mean. If that’s what he considers affection, what must his flirting be like?”

“No one is flirting with anyone!”

-

“Are you going to leave at some point?”

“Obviously not,” A-Qing said. She’d caught the same ride as them, using Xue Yang’s cash no less – Mo Xuanyu had insisted that it was the least they could do after the whole milk misunderstanding, which was stupid, she ought to be paying them for wasting their time. Xue Yang couldn’t wait to get rid of her, although he had to admit that she’d been pretty useful in terms of putting on the ‘poor sad blind girl and her two brothers all alone in the world’ act to get them a room at the inn at prices even Xue Yang felt comfortable paying. “Are you joking? This is so much funnier than walking by myself. Anyway, I enjoy watching people crash and burn.”

“Aren’t you too young to be such a bitch?” Xue Yang hissed. “And, I don’t know, blind?”

“You know what I mean.”

“I don’t care what you –”

The sound of crying came from the other room.

It was quickly followed by a second set of crying.

Xue Yang felt the onset of a headache.

“…truce?” A-Qing suggested sweetly, as if she knew exactly how much it pissed him off and thought it was the funniest thing ever, which was…probably accurate, actually. “I’ll get the baby to stop crying if you do the same with Mo Xuanyu.”

Yeah, that was definitely a headache. The sort of headache called why do I like that brat.

Mo Xuanyu owed him so much candy for putting up with this shit.

“Fine,” Xue Yang said begrudgingly. “Truce. Temporarily. And then you leave!”

-

“So we live here now, huh?” A-Qing said, looking around the house they’d claimed. “That’s neat.”

“Why do you live with us again?” Xue Yang asked her, though by now he barely even meant it. A-Qing was clearly another one in the same mold as Mo Xuanyu: you just couldn’t say no to her…or, rather, you could, at length and top volume and with threats, only it just didn’t stick. “I definitely did not recall asking you to stay.”

Though it was nice to have someone else around that wasn’t going to get immediately ripped off by literally anyone who came their way. Mo Xuanyu’d started getting conned by the literal infant that they were taking care of – he was completely hopeless.

Also, questionably blind or not, at least A-Qing had no hesitation about beating people with her stick if they struck her the wrong way, which was a life approach Xue Yang agreed with wholeheartedly.

“She’s going to learn to cultivate!” Mo Xuanyu chirped from where he was applying his make-up. “Demonic cultivation, too! We had a whole discussion about it while you were out getting groceries!”

That made a certain amount of sense, Xue Yang supposed. You didn’t need talent to be a demonic cultivator – technically speaking, given his bloodline, Mo Xuanyu was more naturally gifted in cultivation than Xue Yang, which was just wrong on all sorts of levels – and it was certainly more effective a defense mechanism than A-Qing’s stick. If there were two of them, they could protect Mo Xuanyu and the baby more effectively, taking shifts when needed, and Mo Xuanyu, who was also going to learn demonic cultivation no matter how many times Xue Yang had to hammer it into his head, could be the last line of defense, largely since no one would ever expect him to be able to do…anything…and they’d be right, too.

So it wasn’t the craziest idea in the world, only…

“…who is she going to be learning from, exactly!?”

-

“Have you ever considered charging for your skill in teaching cultivation lessons instead of your skill in stabbing people?” A-Qing asked one day. They were lying on the ground and having the corpses they’d raised fan them to try to reduce the temperature – it was that sort of day. Also, Mo Xuanyu, who might’ve objected, wasn’t around. “You’re not actually that bad at this. Might be more profitable, and less work. Just a thought.”

“Shut up. I’m great at stabbing people.”

“Yeah, but then after a while we have to move because people get annoyed at that, and it’s getting a little annoying to have to pack up all the time.”

“We’d have to move anyway. We’re wanted criminals, remember?”

“We could be wanted criminals with a house. Besides, wouldn’t you like to be called Teacher Xue?”

“What? No. Gross.”

-

“So you see, it turns out that they were teaching demonic cultivation in a safe and organized fashion,” Xiao Xingchen explained enthusiastically. “They’d even gathered up their own little sect! And of course everyone heard what the Chang clan did, so there’s no need to worry about them going around and murdering people at random – it was a targeted revenge scheme.”

“We’re working on teaching them regular cultivation,” Song Lan agreed, nodding. “To help mitigate the negative effects of demonic cultivation…well, we started out by just teaching them.”

“It turned out that they’d been secretly teaching all of the local delinquents, too, or at least Mo-gongzi had been teaching a few and Mistress Qing was teaching a few others, and even Sect Leader Xue had a few disciples,” Xiao Xingchen said, politely omitting or possibly having not noticed the fact that Mo Xuanyu had been teaching his ‘friends’ (read: scammers trying to take advantage of him), while A-Qing and Xue Yang had each been trying to form competing gangs and/or obtain lackeys. Xue Yang didn’t mind the oversight, largely on account of the fact that A-Qing had been winning, damn her – he’d kept getting distracted by inventing new things. “And a few of them had real talent – and you know that Zichen and I have always wanted to start a sect of our own, with no bloodline ties –”

“We’re joining their sect,” Song Lan said. “We’ll be leading the orthodox side, while they lead the demonic cultivation aspect – safely, of course.”

“I guess it’s better than them being crazy,” Jiang Cheng said. He sounded dubious. “I don’t like it, but at least all the demonic cultivators can be in one spot, you know?”

He made it sound like they’d be dropping off new ones there in the future.

Like they’d opened up some sort of pet rescue and were taking in unwanted puppies or something.

“Agreed,” Nie Mingjue said. “To the extent that they aren’t causing active harm, containment seems an appropriate remedy here. Who seconds the motion?”

“I do,” Lan Xichen said, and smiled at the newly agreed-upon sect. “Welcome back to the cultivation world, Sect Leader Xue.”

-

“I don’t want to know,” Jin Guangyao said, glaring.

“Don’t worry,” Xue Yang told him. “This comes as much of a shock to me as to you.”

The glare intensified, but that was fine. Jin Guangyao’s facial expressions, however minor and generally overlooked, had been the only thing getting him through that awful, awful meeting just now where people kept trying to salute him and make him salute back and if he didn’t then he was letting down Mo Xuanyu (who would send him a sad look) and A-Qing (who would hear about it from Mo Xuanyu later and then find a way to step on his foot right when he was concentrating on something).

Not to mention their two new resident lovebirds, who looked so righteous and proper from the outside but who also may or may not have accidentally full-on actually resurrected some dead asshole cultivator more or less the first time they’d joined Xue Yang in his demonic cultivation laboratory – which would have been fine, you know, that happened in demonic cultivation though not normally to quite such a wow-is-he-actually-alive extent, except that the guy’s intermittent moments of clarity suggested that his two new sect members might have just brought back the Yiling Patriarch himself, which was going to make all of them wanted criminal again the second anyone found out about it.

Ugh.

Being called sect leader was completely not worth this shit.

Xue Yang comforted himself with the reminder that later today he was planning on publicly introducing Jin Guangyao to the Xue sect’s head junior disciple “Xue Song” and announcing loudly that the brat needed some lessons in manners, that he’d heard that that was Lianfeng-zun’s specialty, and nominating him to take care of the kid while they were visiting.

See how the fucker liked that.

“I always knew Xue-gege could do great things!” Mo Xuanyu said, clapping his hands as A-Qing rolled her (by now, Xue Yang was almost definitely sure not actually blind) eyes behind his back. “As long as I went with him!”

[nerdy-simp-7120]

hi! if you're comfortable writing this, could i ask for a scenario? this has been in the back of my head for a while.

what would be the reaction of the brothers + dateables of watching mc play resident evil in the dimitrescu castle? who would be down bad the most

thank you! feel free to ignore this if you don't want to write this ofc

I love this ask (stan tall vampire lady). The only thing is that I accidentally turned it into a “how they feel about the game.” I managed to add in some parts with MC playing as well to make up for it

Update: I literally finished the request yesterday but my wifi went down and I lost everything  😩 😩

I also wrote this in the middle of the night so sorry if there are any errors! Enjoy!

Warnings: cursing.

How the OM! characters would react to you playing Resident Evil (Dimitrescu Castle edition)

Lucifer

Will not care at first

"I hold no interest in such trivial simulations."

His weakness? Being a simp for you.

He decides to look into the game a bit more in private later on.

Will lowkey practice the game

If you ever catch him playing it, do not say anything because he will stop immediately, deny everything, and might not ever do it again

With time, however, Lucifer will come to master the game.

Here comes the showing off.

When you're rambling about the game with Levi, Lucifer will join the conversation and you two will be like "wow, boomer knows something for once--"

Or when you're struggling on a part of the game he will be like, "hand it over"

Before expertly getting through that part.

Can defeat Lady Dimitrescu if you ask him to but be careful cause he might make you beg

sadistic bastard

or you can be a badass and show him your skills

Will be a tad shocked at how easily you handled it but won't let it show (okay Elsa)

Also proud though

Lucifer's internal monologue: “That’s right- show them how it’s done, Y/n.”

Mammon

Scared.

Will watch you play and cover his eyes during every battle

"wHAT IS THAT?!" at everything you come across

I hope you're good at playing one-handed because you'll have to use the other hand to hold his throughout the entire thing

Admires you're bravery but would never admit it

"You were horrible! ...N-nice job beating the game, not that I c-care or anything. You sucked anyways!"

Not even 10 seconds later...

"Can I watch you play again?"

Comes to find that the faces you make are adorable: when you're concentrating on a battle, when you win, find a valuable item, etc

He loves being able to see how you're feeling up close.

If you catch him staring when you take a break or something he'll blush and either ask you if you have a staring problem or that you have something on your face

He may or may not buy cheap merch (a tiny key chain of Lady Dimitrescu or your favorite character) for you, all the while spewing lame excuses

Please bear with him- he's trying.

Leviathan

"YOU ALSO LIKE RESIDENT DEVIL?!?? Ah! I-I mean..."

Congrats, you just found yourself someone to discuss the game with

Is open to cosplay the characters with you

You two will have competitions to see who can beat the game faster.

You both also share theories with each other all the time

Or simply discuss the characters together

He purposefully stays quiet to hear you ramble on and on- dude finds it adorable

You two also sometimes argue debate over a character name or event in the game

Because while you have Resident Evil

He only knows Resident Devil

This is the equivalent of Devilgram and Instagram

I mean

They’re the same,

But a couple things were altered, y’know, to prevent copyright

So yes, there are definitely a few quarrels here and there

But all in all, it’s a fun gamer bud experience

Don’t tell him I told you but he thinks it’s hot when you show off your badass skills in a boss fight

Satan

He plays it on the lowkey.

Not because he’s embarrassed

But because he partially takes his anger out on the characters

During gory scenes, he imagines it’s him torturing Lucifer, fueling his determination to win

A calculated person, Satan is a smart player

But there are times when he’s particularly angry and he becomes a reckless one, jumping into fights impetuously

This is where you come in and beat the enemy for him

He may get angrier, thinking you are underestimating him

But, for the sake of the person he loves, he calms down knowing you didn’t mean to offend him

A small part in the back of his head also admires you for being able to handle the fight a ton better than he did

Congratulations, you just earned yourself the great Satan’s respect (resident evil-wise).

Asmodeus

“Oh my, I never knew you were into such gory games! Does this mean you’re into blood play, because I know many things about--”

He may look carefree on the outside

But on the inside?

Let’s take a look, shall we?

Holy shit

What the fu--

Jesus christ, can you pull a move like that in real life?

He needs to be careful to not piss you off.

If you can handle this, who knows what you could be capable of?

Hold on.

Wait, you look so concentrated

Eeep! How cute!

Anyways, it ends with him snapping a bunch of pictures 

Keeps them for himself and may brag to his brothers about how he got some “special” shots of you

Obviously never elaborates on what the special part means to keep his dear siblings on edge because, what the hell, they want to know what these special shots are

Would not play the game because there’s “tOo MuCh BlOoDsHeD”

We all know he’s most likely seen his fair share of bloodshed

“What if the adrenaline gives me acne?”

He’s probably just bad at the game--

Verdict: Asmo is a simp and not afraid to flaunt it.

Beel

...Are you okay?

Do you think about homicide--?

Oh, that lady looks nice.

Huh, she’s 9′6″??

What’s her name? Lady Dimitrescu?

Okay-- WAIT WHY IS SHE TURNING INTO THAT??

Not scared, just a tad bit concerned 

Poor Beel, concerned for Lady D :’)

Also, seeing the death’s of Bela, Daniela, and Cassandra hit different

Because he know what it’s like to lose a sibling.

Safe to say he understands Alcina’s pain when she raged about her children being dead.

Also concerned about how the gore could affect you

Because isn’t stuff like this supposed to traumatize humans?

Would support you regardless though

And thinks that you’re really brave for playing the game and still being able to stand strong

On another note, Beel decided to make small flower graves for the three sisters and Alcina because he’s adorable and kind like that

Belphegor

Likes the game but is too lazy to play himself

Regularly watches Satan play (or at least as much as he can before deciding it’s nap time)

I hope you enjoy Belphie using you as a body pillow and watching you play from now on 

Makes small comments here and there to help you out

“To your left... Oh, and open the window- yeah, that one.”

Will smirk, impressed, when you deal with the fights and win yourself without his comments.

“That’s my Y/n”

(Sorry I don’t know what else to put for him :’))

Diavolo

“Is this a human trend?” meme

Will watch excitedly and “oooo” whenever you do something cool

Be careful though, because the questions will not stop as you play

“What’s that? I see. What’s it for? How do you win the game? Who’s that character? Why can’t you do this? What about--?”

Diavolo, you’re awesome and all, but please

shush

On the inside, is also one that might be a tad concerned about your mental health because doesn’t that gore traumatize humans?

Wait, you do this for entertainment?

...

Another warning: he will shower you in merchandise from the game

I am not above the fact that this man has a game room 

And he will try to master the game

Casually pushes all his paperwork over to Lucifer so he can play Resident Evil

RIP Luci

Unfortunately, Diavolo will have trouble grasping the game and how it works

You will have to explain many things to him

Good luck- he’s a bit of a boomer (but willing to learn) and may or may not get distracted staring at you

But anyways, he enjoys engaging in the competitions you and Levi have

Whether it be playing as well or simply watching

He just loves to see you happy

Barbatos

Oh my, what’s this?

Will watch you play

and constantly criticize how filthy the Dimitrescu castle is

“Do they have any idea how many rats this can attract?”

Barbatos, your weakness is showing.

Seeing you so happy while playing the game helps him relax from his daily troubles tasks

He rewards you with a pat on the head any time you beat a foe

When Diavolo goes over to the HoL or when you come over to play in he silently cheers you on in the background.

Solomon

Yuh

Is educated on the game and knows his shit as the only other human 

Maybe knows a bit too much of the game

You will later come to find out that, somewhere in his mass tangle of shady connections, he knows a developer

Might give you tips and tricks to get on higher levels

But never, and I mean never, challenge him like you would with Levi to see who can beat the game faster

Because he will beat you by a seconds on purpose, just to piss you of

all the while doing that dark, shady chuckle

Asshole

But anyways, if you manage to finesse and beat him, he will be 

So confused

“I thought I did it all right, what went wrong...?” he thinks to himself.

On the outside, however, he’s smiling

Will hand over some praise to his little apprentice, but if you look carefully you will see a spark of annoyance

We get it Solomon, you’re a sore loser.

In the end, he will still leave somewhat impressed at your skillz

Simeon

w h a t

Is a little scared

“Is this one of them video games you kids play nowadays...? Just kidding. What are you playing-- oh my”

Might try to figure out how to play

But alas, 

Simeon is yet another boomer

So he will have quite some trouble even figuring out how to move

And why does he hold the controller like that what

If you’ve seen that one picture of him holding his phone sideways you know what I mean

On another note, if you look through his poem book, then you may or may not find a few poems describing how amazing and badass you looked hustling the entire game

Luke

about to bomb this master hill

No literally is considering bombing the computer or whatever you’re playing on because wHAT IS THAT

He is just

So 

So 

Scared

This will give him nightmares for weeks

Apparently Alcina reminds him of Lucifer so he kinda

Hates her

Says he will protect you

--as he runs out of the room in fear

Irrelevant but the one he hates the most is fetus baby

Michael have mercy on this poor boy--

[young-dumb-and-vaccinated]

The Sommelier (Hannigram x Female!Reader) pt. 23

Y/n explores the hidden room and finds exactly what she was looking for.

@dovahdokren @deadman-inc-bikeshop @lov3vivian @wisesandwichshark @scpdragon 

Trigger warnings: Christianity, cult stuff, allusions to death, needles

The candle provided little in the way of light, but allowed you to see what was directly in front of you and therefore better than nothing. You felt around for a light switch, but, from what you could feel, the entire wall was covered in foam spikes. 

Great. You thought to yourself. If I die down here, nobody will ever find me.

That also meant that you couldn’t hear anything coming from outside. Or so you thought.

“My beloved flock!” Chase shouted.

The voice was so clear and projected, you nearly dropped your candle and screamed. There was no way in hell he could be with you in that basement. When you got your bearings back, you realized the sound was crackling. 

“I was speaking to the lord this morning and I asked him, Holy Father, what do you want my flock to hear?” Chase said, the sound growing more noticeably electronic. “Then the lord said to me, he literally put a word in my brain, he said ‘why, my son, do you call them your flock?’.” 

You followed the sound of Chase’s sermon. Your eyes had mostly adjusted to the darkness and you were beginning to make out the outlines of things. On a table near the wall sat a radio.

“The lord sent me here in Jesus’s stead to keep the flock. To become the shepherd.” Chase continued. “And you’re probably thinking, Vanguard, why you? What gives you divine authority?” 

Some mumbles of agreement came from what was presumably the onlookers. He paused, then slammed his hand against the table. 

“So it’s true, is it?” His voice grew more manic and trembled as if he were about to burst into tears. “The devil is sowing the seeds of doubt in your minds.” 

Sounds of remorse followed. 

“Because our god is so loving, he has put it on my heart to forgive you.” He said. “As Christ’s perfect blood was spilt on earth, so will I, your divinely-appointed vanguard, forgive you forever and always.” 

You were tempted to just turn the radio off, but it was your only indication of what was happening up above. You got the feeling that this would go on for a while and you could take your time. 

Next to the radio was an industrial flashlight. You thanked a god you didn’t believe in and snuffed out the candle. You ran the flashlight along the walls, seeing that the foam spikes, unsurprisingly, covered the entire perimeter. 

You walked cautiously down the hall, aiming the flashlight at the ground and along the edges. The room was stocked with your standard bunker essentials; canned food, first aid kits, large jugs of water and a stack of cots. 

Chase blathered on about spiritual brokenness and how his cult members should be thankful that god had given them a second chance, but you found a way to tune it out. You had other things to think about. For example: why the hell was there a stack of, like, twenty baby-sized coffins stashed in a fallout shelter?

Upon closer inspection, you saw that they were empty. You genuinely didn’t know if that made it better or not. The proximity to a stash of twenty oxygen tanks implied he was going to rip off A Quiet Place, but why he felt the need to do that in an already soundproof room was beyond you. 

That thought was pushed aside when you found exactly what you came for. 

His breathing was drowned out by Chase’s inane sermon, but he was breathing. That was the only way you knew he was still alive. He laid on a filthy cot with an IV in his arm and a tube down his throat. 

You laced your fingers between his and held his hand against your cheek. Partially to make sure his blood was still flowing, but mostly to savor the feeling of his warmth on your face. He looked almost peaceful, for someone who was sedated against their will and tossed carelessly onto a cot and left to slowly wither away in a secret bunker. 

You brushed his curls back and kissed his forehead. A small part of you wanted to believe that true love’s kiss was enough to break the spell, but whatever cocktail Chase used on him would require something more. And you had no fucking clue what that something was or if you could even get it. 

Even though you were underground, you had a couple bars of reception. Again, you thanked a god that didn’t exist and used your lucky signal to call Hannibal. 

“[F/N]?” Hannibal answered, relieved to hear you calling. You could only get every other syllable, but you could hear him. “Darling, wh-e are -ou? What did-- find?” 

“I’m still underneath the chapel.” You said in a hushed voice. “There’s a whole doomsday bunker down here and the room is completely soundproof. But I found Will.” 

“Is he -live?” Hannibal said, hurriedly. 

You cringed as you spoke. “Only in the technical sense. He's unresponsive and hooked up to a breathing tube."

"Listen carefully, [F/N]." Hannibal's voice quickened. "You're-- going to -- to --resuscitate him."

That was exactly what you didn't want to hear. "What?!"

"I'll walk-- through it. Just do-- I tell you." He assured you.

You nodded, put the phone on speaker and placed it on the ground. "Yeah, okay."

"Is there-- first aid?" He asked.

You raced to where you saw the first aid kit before and snatched one off the top. "I've got one right here."

"--good." He said, in as calming a voice as he could. "Do you --plastic tube -- orange tip?"

You found it and picked it up. "Yeah, got it."

"Take the orange cap off," He instructed. "And insert the needle into his-"

The dial tone. Another thing you didn't want to hear.

In movies, you'd always seen the EpiPen administered through the leg. It was as good a guess as any. Your hands shook as you took aim. You swallowed, made your peace with death, and plunged the needle into his leg.

You kept it straight up for what felt like an eternity when Will's body suddenly spasmed and he choked awake. You dropped the EpiPen and rushed to pull the tube from his throat.

He pushed himself up just enough to pull the needle from his arm, then collapsed back on the cot. He breathed as if for the first time.

"[F/N]?" He sputtered, chest falling and rising rapidly. He tried to push himself up on his elbows, but you put your hands on his bare chest and gently guided him back down.

"Will..." you whispered, on the verge of tears. Even though his soft features were bruised and his sparkling eyes were dim, he was still your Will.

Will's lips turned up into a smile, though not without struggle. "This... this means we're even now, right?"

You took his hand in both of yours and peppered small kisses all over his knuckles.

"Suede..." he panted. "With a cashmere lining..."

His thumb ran over the back of your hand, feeling your soft gloves. Your other hand cupped his cheek. 

“Why the hell did you come here?!” Will scolded, once he was able to string words together. “You know Chase wants you dead.” 

“I didn’t come alone.” You admitted. “Hannibal is here with me.” 

Will thought for a second. “I don’t know if that makes me feel better or not.” 

“Chase knows we’re here,” You began, “But he doesn’t know I’ve discovered his sex slave fallout bunker-” 

Will let out a sharp exhale that vaguely resembled a laugh. “It’s not for the sex slaves.” 

“...what?” You spat. 

“It’s for the babies.” 

[oonajaeadira]

Long Fall Into Oblivion (Ezra x reader)

(header by sirtadcooper - check out the whole beautiful set here.)

Rating: Mature. 

Pairing: Ezra (post-Prospect film) x f!reader

Warnings: Non-explicit sex. Some swears maybe (think there’s a f*ck in there somewhere, my GOODNESS). A lot of gooey, syrupy, soft fluffety fluff. Author attempts at writing Ezra dialogue. A lot of chewy prose.

A/N: I can’t believe I’m posting this, but here goes. I love Ezra. He is a man of questionable morality and an insufferable tongue and I really shouldn’t. But I really do. I just wanted to give him a try. I’ve softened him up here, putting a few years on him so maybe he’s fluffed up some since the events in the film. Also I just ignored the fade or assumed that aurelac mining was still happening because scarcity/demand. Doesn’t matter. Just wanted to go exploring.

Summary: You take a job as an aurelac prospecting trainee and Ezra shows you the ropes. You’re gonna fall in love with him. That’s it. That’s the whole thing.

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MASTERLIST

________________

Bakhroma is one of the smallest gas giants in the sector, but as you stand on the surface of the Green Moon, it dominates the entire horizon, pulling your focus, threatening to engulf everything around it. You almost feel sorry for the lush moon as you walk through its undergrowth, so gentle and full of beauty, destined many years after you’re gone to give its life to her.

A moon is an orbiting admirer, and what is an orbit but a long fall to oblivion?

There’s a painful, sour ache in your heart as you walk back to the camp in twilight, watching the back of Ezra’s helmet bob along in front of you. You’d spent two days digging that claim only to find the weakest aurelac nest you’ve seen yet, only three viable nodes. You’d dug through one of them by accident and completely melted another like an incompetent fool. Kevva’s ass, you were such a disappointment. Three months in the Green and you still can’t cut a blister out properly. Not even once.

Ezra’s shoulders are wide and tense, his one hand splayed out as he walks, running over the tops of the tall ferns, catching one every now and then only to rip the top away, twirl it between his gloved fingers and toss it impatiently aside.

The other two members of your team headed out on a sling this morning, another two will be arriving in a few days. And you wonder if Ez regrets just not cutting his losses and leaving with them, or at least sending you back in exchange for another kip.

You think about shifting through the comm channels, hoping that he’s chattering away in one of them, switched without your knowledge, but it’s a lost cause. You can hear him breathing on the channel between you. It’s not often Ezra has nothing to say.

________________

You thought your father was leaving you an inheritance. It’s not the reason you took care of him through his illness, but you’d dropped everything to be back home with him through his final months. In a way, it was a blessing, a reason to quit the Dasha factory and the terrible working conditions there, come back home and focus on your dad, relive good memories, just spend time. The reconnection lifted your heart, but his death sank it low again. When you learned he had nothing to leave you but a small house and some old vehicles, you sold what you could and traded in the rest.

Then you had nothing. No family, no job, little savings, questionable future. It almost broke your spirit. But the last few months with your father rekindled your love of him as he told you about his years in the Fringe, mining and prospecting. And your heart had said, “what the hell, let’s try that.” So you listened.

It took some time to track down the right inroads, but you were able to find some ads for prospecting teams, in particular those who were willing to take on members in training for a re-distributed cut. With all provisions included--other than suit and gear, which your father’s inheritance neatly covered--it seemed like just as good of a deal as any, and an adventure to boot.

But the reality was, every team you met with was full of hardened men, and while you were not a soft Central woman, you also weren’t overly versed in weaponry and didn’t know if you could defend yourself out in the Fringe against attack if things got crusty.

You were just about ready to admit defeat when you walked into yet another conference bunker and found your match. The first thing you noticed was that he was standing when you arrived, waiting for you politely rather than manspread at the table. Second were his eyes. Deep, brown, and sad. Maybe sad was the wrong word, certainly it seemed by the lines in his face, possibly by the missing arm, that he’d seen enough sadness, but toward you, it read more as concern. You wouldn’t know it until later when he confessed his feelings about this first meeting, but he was worried you wouldn’t choose him. Ezra had a hell of a time hiring partners. He may have been one of the longest-working aurelac diggers out there, but young kippers saw his greying beard and seasoned diggers saw his lacking arm and they all tended to turn around and walk out before he even said hello. So he’d tried to put himself out there as a trainer, show that he had something more to offer.

It didn’t hurt his feelings when you admitted to him later that those qualities were exactly why you chose him. He seemed the opposite of threatening. And his eyes were bright when he smiled at you. With his thrumming baritone and his Fringe twang and his mixed deck of mosaic words, he had a way of speaking that felt like a fluffy blanket curling around you, your brain vibrating with comfort at every new monologue. He was eccentric and perhaps a little jarringly rough in his humor at times, but there was something about him that you trusted immediately, even though you’d come to learn later you probably shouldn’t have if you were being overly cautious.

Not that your judgement ever came to detriment. Not that he ever proved you wrong that way. Not when it came to you. But the man was dangerous when he had to be in a way you hadn’t initially picked up on.

________________

You hadn’t been out in the Green two weeks before you looked up from the bottom of a dig hole to see Ezra standing over you with a thrower.

“You get down and you stay down, understand?”

“Ez? What--”

“I said stay down! Do not make me waste words on mere repetition!” The fuzzy blanket of his voice replaced suddenly by a snarling, snapping brush wolf, a quick change hitting you like a slap in the ear.

There’d been pops and whizzes as shots rang through and you did as your trainer said, face down, the view of your visor giving you nothing but dirt. Your helmet was a chorus of quick breathing from both of you and sweat rolled down your neck as you begged the eyes of Kevva to look down upon your partner. When the crossfire faded, you’d heard Ezra stalk away. Then there were a couple more shots. Then more footsteps returning.

“You are permitted to stand, trinket. All is well as it can be for us. But not so much for our dearly departed friends.” These words were as soothing as much as his previous ones had burned, and he simply went back to working at the dig at hand as if he’d just come back from taking a leak. It wasn’t until you left the site that evening that you tramped past two rotting raiders, gaudily outfitted with broken face shields, left to let the Green take them.

Ezra whistled as he stepped over them, stopping only to harvest their filters and munition rods, which he tossed your way to stow in your pack, and then continued lazily down the path toward camp. Just another day on the job. 

He may be a little peculiar and not someone to trifle with, he may have just killed two people without remorse or further comment, but his lack of reassuring words told you that this was just part of the deal. You wear the suit, you use the air scrubber in the tent, you follow the landing pod instructions as written, and you defend yourself against those who wish to harm you. Survival by any and all means is paramount, mundane, and something he has no qualms with on any level.

There was something deep down inside of you that instinctually pulled you to follow him, not just down the literal path before you, but whatever path Ezra chose to wander.

________________

Before you’d left the station with him, he’d taken you to a thrower range to gauge your skill which was decent in theory, but dismal compared with what he could do. No matter, he still patiently taught you how to properly clean and charge a weapon and the best way to breathe and pull the trigger; “like you’re taking hold of a man’s...well... Just go easy and firm.” He suggested you should come and practice every day before lift off and then hope to Kevva that you didn’t have to rely too heavily on it.

“If I find myself in a coffin of my own suit, then feel free to defend yourself as a final means of preservation. Otherwise, when it comes down to shots fired, best to let me do the dirty work. Might as well keep the blood where the blood has been.”

You’d been a little nervous about sharing a freighter pod alone with him, but Ezra was...well, not so much a gentleman as just a comfortable soul. 

He always waited until you were hungry to eat, thinking it rude to eat alone in front of you. He never moved around the pod while you were sleeping, content to keep still with a book in his cot. And if you couldn’t sleep, he was always willing to read to you from whatever impossibly dense old world classic he was digging through for the umpteenth time, letting his voice come up from the deeps and pull you gently under. If you asked permission to turn on the radio, he’d ask you “why Isn’t it on yet, woman,” quietly tolerating your taste in harsh and gleeful babblecore pshcyopop. In the later days of the journey, he’d even come to dance with you from time to time, although both of you were dismal at it and ended up with you in a fit of giggles. It was a sure-fire way to cure a case of the pouts you carried through from the morning fitness sessions when he beat you at pushups. Again.

When it came to privacy in the tight space, he had a habit of turning away without having to be asked or stopping his stream of talk when you went to change clothes, just happily chattering away until you called the all clear. Although he was not squeamish about his own state of undress, should you happen to catch it by accident. While he was respectful of your privacy, he seemed to need none of his own, but neither did he flaunt anything. You might look up from studying the flight manual to notice he was changing into a fresh pair of compression pants, tugging them on haphazardly with one hand, more concerned with telling you the overwhelmingly disgusting manufacturing process of Bits Bars than his own ass hanging out where you might see it. At least he always changed facing away from you which was a kindness.

Until it wasn’t.

After you realized you’d fallen quietly in love with him--a sudden, soft moment on the Green--then you’d admit only privately to yourself that you wouldn’t mind if you accidentally saw a little more than the occasional shirtless attire he might wear around the tent.

But in the pod, the only part of him that had caught your curiosity was his stump, and you’d known Ezra intensely enough over the past couple of weeks where you knew he wouldn’t take offense. Especially if you asked him the right way.

“Will you tell me a story, Ezra?”

“I feel that it is my duty to do so whether you ask me to or not. Shall I choose, or is there something in particular you would like to hear?”

He was sitting cross-legged on the floor, propped up against his cot, going through his kit, cleaning his gear. You waited until he noticed your lack of answer and looked up to meet your eyes. When he saw that you had put your manual down and were focusing all your quiet attention on him, he stopped his busy work. 

When Ezra gives you his attention, it is absolute. When he knows you seriously need something from him, that becomes his immediate main priority and all else can wait. It’s only gotten more intense since that day, but there is a trust that resides between you when you look into his eyes, gathering your words as he waits patiently every time to hear whatever you’re going to request of him. There’s always hope there in his big browns, always something specific he’s waiting for you to ask, and every day you get a little bit closer to understanding what it might be. But until then, any question is a welcome one, any query is met with his wish to provide.

“Will you tell me how you lost your arm?”

At first you thought you may have gone too far, that maybe you insulted him, as his eyebrows peaked together and he looked down at his hand. But then, “That is a tale that may cause you some consternation, trinket. The Green is dangerous and unforgiving, and there were times I may not have been a man worthy of fair opinion.”

“My father was a prospector, you know. I’ve heard stories. Have you ever killed anyone?”

He clicked his tongue and screwed up an eye, causing the thin white scar on his cheek to twist. Then he sighed and returned to your locked gaze. “To be honest, I have. Though I have never done so with pleasure, I have killed in defense and out of desperation, and it was out of dispatching a man in this way that I came to lose the second favorite of all my appendages.”

“Second favorite?”

“Well, it depends what you classify as a limb.” He huffed a small laugh, a spark in his eye, trying to diffuse the harsh subject in his own way.

His leaning into baseness never bothered you. There was something earthy about it, gritty and rough, but never lewd. You rewarded his crassness with a smile. “Do you plan on killing me out in the Green?”

“I would hope my murdering days are behind me, and if they are not, you would see me aim a thrower at everyone but you in the course of my spree. You are under my tutelage, and for that, I owe you a duty of care. That is my word by Kevva.”

“Then tell me the story. I like your stories. I promise not to judge now-Ezra by then-Ezra.”

A dimple formed on his cheek, a punctuation mark framing the approaching anecdote on his lips. “Then I will declare myself absolved of any sin heretofore and regale you with a clean and grateful heart.”

________________

You can see the tent through the trees and you realize with some horror that it’s just you and Ezra for the next few nights. If he’s angry with you, and this is how he is when he’s upset, the silence will be unbearable.

Even that little girl he helped out here years ago was probably more capable than you. You feel so lost in this moment, and it’s only made worse by his silence. You fumble with your communicator and hit the mute just in time to choke on a sob.

This isn’t like you. You’re not one to cry when things get rough. You hardly shed a tear when your father died. But the thought of that just brings another sob and as acting as your own psychologist you realize that you are experiencing some displaced sorrow, the odd need to please the leading male in your life, the one that’s walking ahead of you, away from you. If he’d just turn around and throw you his worn weary smile, if he’d just start up a conversation you’d know that there was hope for you, you’d know you didn’t give up everything to be here in a job you couldn’t hack.

You gotta stop this. Or it’s going to be an uncomfortable night.

Shake it off.

Once you enter the tent, the usual dance happens. Ezra reaches up to turn on the air scrubber and you unhook his filter tube from his helmet. When he turns to you, you pull open the zipper cover on his suit and start his zip for him before lifting his helmet up and off. He can pull the zip the rest of the way, but you generally pull the left collar down for him so he can get his arm out. He’s on his own from there as you turn to fuss with your own gear. 

________________

You remember it starting easily enough. He was telling you a story about the breeding habits of the Tokovian Musk Owl and you could see he was having trouble with his suit zipper, yanking at it and trying to look down at it even though it was under his chin and his helmet. Without another hand to keep the fabric taut, the zip didn’t want to release, so you simply batted his hand away and started it for him. He didn’t even stop his yammering, just threw in a “thank you” somewhere in between “could hear them screeching” and “for a fuck.” He’d right out asked you the day before if you wouldn’t mind disengaging the filter tube just because it was delicate and he didn’t want to mangle the expensive part trying to pop it out one-handed day after day. And while he could manage the helmet fine enough, his prominent nose thanked you for a smoother removal for sure. 

It wasn’t the only routine dance you’d concocted. 

There was the harness dance.

While dig days were excruciating, you always looked forward to helping him attach the harness for his prosthesis--a kind of rigid pole attached to a shovel so you didn’t have to do all the hard digging alone. There were a couple of straps that came around his torso with multiple latches and you’d come to really enjoy wrapping your arms around him to fit the straps on. Sure, you could do the job just as easily from behind, but if you embraced him at the front, he’d usually raise his arm and let it come to rest around your shoulders while you worked. If you let yourself dream, it would be easy to imagine that he might be pressing you into him just a little bit.

And there was the harvesting dance.

On a dig, you were the one to mix the fazer and Ezra did the pour. He fished the sack, you cut the cord. You sliced the outer casing and held it open while he did the extraction. And with the flesh-covered stone, he told you every time to “hold it like you love it” so he could cut away the slippery blister before cleaning the gemstone.

It was a beautiful harmony. And the only way it worked. Because once on every dig he urged you to do a solo extraction, and on every dig, you pierced the blister and lost that stone. And on every dig, he squeezed your shoulder and told you it was a wondrous try, that he was proud of you, and there would always be another turn. There was no sarcasm, no pity, just a warm smile and ceaseless optimism even though you just lost both of you thousands in pay.

These were the first touches, these shoulder squeezes that ran down your arm on the let-go. Sometimes he would just reach out and grab onto you like a pole to help himself up, or he might stumble off balance on uneven ground and without the counterweight of his right arm he’d throw his hand out onto you to steady himself. He wasn’t beyond lightly touching the small of your back to encourage you down a path or to take your next try at a gem pull. 

This was all part of something you’ve secretly named the left-handed-lover’s dance. Basically, that you keep on his left whenever you can in case he needs your help or has the inclination to reach for you. It started out as just trying to be a good partner. Then it became a passing hope that it was more than just a friendly bond. But you were both here to do a job. He was here to teach you to be an independent prospector and you were here to assist and learn. That was evident at the end of the day; once you were both in the tent and out of the suits he never touched you, never so much as bumped into you or grazed your hand in passing an item or clapped you on the arm after a good joke. 

But out in the field all zipped in and helmets on, there was nothing more natural than his gentle hand guiding you or reaching for your assistance, including the day you realized you loved him.

________________

Before you can turn away to strip off your own coverings, Ezra catches your arm, spinning your face into the light. You try to shake him off, not wanting him to catch your eyes puffy from crying and your cheeks still streaked with tears, but his grip is not so gentle now and he yanks you back around to his stormy glare, chin up, brows low. His intensity paralyzes you, rendering you unable to continue your struggle when he catches your eyes with his.

When Ezra gives you his attention, it is absolute.

His gaze travels back and forth between your eyes, waiting for an explanation, a minute so stringent it breaks you down, dissolves you into the tears you’d tried so hard to hide.

“I’m sorry, Ezra. I really am trying... I don’t know why I’m such a scuffer at this and I know it would only be right to release you from the contract and tell you to send me back but I don’t want you to, I really wanna stay, I really wanna learn and I’m so, so sorry.”

Your words have an immediate effect, softening him, pulling his glare into concern and wonder, his lips parting just the tiniest bit in surprise.

“This is the reason for your heavy mood? You think I am provoked by your proficiency in the field?” 

“I crusted up good today and it seems like you’re not happy about it. Just...know that it means so much to me that...I don’t wanna let you down.”

“Oh, trinket, no.” An incredulous huff jumps out of him and his grip on your arm loosens, becomes a splayed warm support behind your shoulder, moving in soothing patterns and you’re instantly relieved that your assumptions were wrong. “You have done no harm in my book. It is not an easy thing to deliver a gem of this ilk into the world unscathed. Your opportunities have been few and scattered and it takes many sticks before a lover becomes a lothario.” He knows the crass humor will make you laugh, knows what to say to lighten your heart, to get you to soften, and bring you into his intimate, conspiratorial mood. “To be perfectly honest, I am selfish to an unrighteous degree, for every gem you burn keeps me in value to you. A worthy sacrifice to guarantee you mightn’t be so quick in your need to fly away from me until your training’s complete.”

This causes a hitch in your breath as you see the welcome turn the conversation he’s taking and you follow the path he’s making for you. “I don’t want to leave you, Ez.”

A smile creeps up one side of his mouth. “Well then I am a happy man. A bargain is struck! Partners it is.”

“Partners it is.”

A moment hangs between you as he rubs his thumb in slow circles on your shoulder. There’s that look in his eye again, the one where he’s waiting for you to ask the question he wants to hear from you. So close now.

Still, you’re unsure. “I guess I’m lucky I found the one person who wants an incompetent partner.”

“No, I do not, nor is it what I have and I must express my objection to your self-debasement. This work is not for the shiny, and you have not once complained about taking on the meat of the digging or the crawl of my schedule.”  His hand comes to your helmet shield and he rakes his thumb across it as if he ached to wipe away one of your staleing tears. “Those bright eyes of yours got a penchant for spotting deposits more skillfully than I could ever manage and that’s not something that can be taught; that’s talent, girl. The blistering?” He shrugs. “Even I can’t manage that without the steady help of your fine hands. You may think that your blunders in education are causing us some financial ruin, but our fortunes are creamy. I assure you, we can afford it.”

That look is still there. He’s waiting. “There’s some ‘us’ and ‘we’ in there, Ez.” Your hands drift to his sides, taking fistfuls of his compression suit top, willing him closer.

The edges of his eyes take on the crinkle you’ve come to find so much comfort in. “So there is.”

You’re almost there. You know what he wants. “Why were you so quiet on the walk back?” 

“Because for the next few days we are alone here and I have a mind full of questions I do not know how to ask you.”

“Then let me go first.” A yearning happiness settles in his brown eyes; finally. Finally you’ve found out what it is he needs you to request of him. “If I take this helmet off, are you going to kiss me, Ez?”

His eyes close in contentment and he nods, “Yes. Yes, little jewel. Yes I am, that and more. I hope I have inferred correctly that it is your wish that I do so, because I am in free fall. I feel my orbit ending and my pull to you is complete.”

_______________

“A moon is an orbiting admirer, and what is an orbit but a long fall to oblivion?”

Speculating days were some of your favorite times, just wading through the brush and looking for the telltale signs and shoots of an underlying deposit. Sometimes you came upon nests of strange groundling insects or flowers that only grew in secret. There were treasures underfoot on this poisonous moon, but if you remembered to look up as well, you might find some dangerous beauties there too. 

On that day--the one where you finally understood your heart--you’d looked up to find that you were on a cliffside overlooking a valley, the canopy a million different hues of green, the gas giant looming over half the sky in a big pink and orange semi-circle. There was a fallen log that served as a perfect seat for the perfect view and you knew Ezra wouldn’t mind if you stole a few moments to sit and to take it in. It’s just the kind of thing he’d appreciate. And you were proven right when he came up behind you, putting a hand on your shoulder to steady himself as he swung one leg then the other over the log, finding a perch next to you, spouting pretty words through the channel link--soft and low--about moons and orbits and obilvions.

“That glowing beauty is Bakhroma. She is quiet and fierce, made up of the unfathomable and the unknowable, always within sight, but out of reach and untouchable unless one would trade the honor with great sacrifice. She reflects the light that is given to her with a patience that is heretofore untold. And the Green Moon upon which we ride follows where she goes like a lovesick fool, spinning around her in a heady kind of adoration, full of secret treasures buried deep down that will ultimately one day belong to her, falling incrementally over eons until he finally loses himself in her, all his glories gladly forfeit to her welcome and inevitable embrace. Alone but together, seemingly eternal, pulled as one by the laws of a mysterious universe.”

The void that came after those words was filled with the beating of your heart, and you were sure he could hear it through the channel.

When he’d landed there beside you, you’d registered how his hand slid off your shoulder, diagonally down across your back, coming to rest at your waist, his arm draped lightly around you. Natural. Easy. Everything was warm--the colors of the sky, the care with which he kept you close as if to better hear the honey sweetness in his prose, the fire burning in your lungs and neck.

Ezra probably didn’t know that you spoke a little Vayok.

Bakh being the Vayok word for adornment. Ornament, Gem. Roma was a modifier, a diminutive. Small. Dear.

Bakhroma. Sentimental bauble. A little jewel.

In other words, a trinket.

All you wanted to do was sit down to take in the view of an entire world for a few moments, but by the time Ezra took your hand and helped you to your feet, all you saw was him.

________________

The helmet is barely off before his lips are sealed to yours in a press of greed. Even if he can’t form words when he kisses you, he can’t help but express his deep relief in a heartbreaking moan. It’s a fight to release yourself from the suit when he keeps pulling you against him and every time you try to get some space between you to work the zipper, he chuckles into your mouth, enjoying the tease and the struggle. It’s simultaneously frustrating and thrilling and you give in for a few moments just to give him what he seems to want so desperately right now.

Ezra kisses like a man starved for air, long, hard, and full of need, peeling his lips away only to come back for another breath of you until his initial want is slaked and he slows, allows for more time between his taking, his mouth starting to mumble against yours, praising you with pet names, telling you how perfect you are to him, how long he’s “fought against my more dubious natures to respect your womanly virtues and take them only when you could see in me a man worth bestowing them on.”

You’re able to use his weakness for monologuing to turn around in his vice-like embrace, finally freeing yourself of the suit and he takes the opportunity to drawl more pretty words in your ear, warning you that “I’m afraid I have been enamored of you overly long and may be extra eager in my attentions. So you just say the word if you need a slow down, gentle one, and I will do my best to comply. Although I will admit it will be a difficult endeavor indeed as I feel I am entering your atmosphere and nothing might quell this burn but finding some drowning place to land.”

Your first impression of him was of a man whose age and temperament and body would not be able to overpower you.

Your first impression was wrong.

Of course, it helps that you are willing.

It doesn’t take long for him to strip you down, and then himself. To kiss you down onto the floor. To find exactly where you like to be touched most and how long it takes for you to break from it. He has so many words for you, so many praises to sing about every part of you that is round or soft or wet, comparing you to things that are sweet and plush or celestial and holy. And when you take his favorite limb in hand--as wondrous as the rest of his body--and guide it to its fit, he plunders and harvests all you have to give him, filing you with himself, for as long as you call for it, as long as you let him. He loves you like he speaks to you: rough and drawn out, full of beautiful tangents and meandering plotlines, but in the end it is beautiful and fulfilling; you may be just a little bit confused how you got to the ending, but you’re completely in awe.

When you lay breathing heavy, staring but not seeing the ceiling of the tent, your consciousness seemingly lifted to see through it to the stars, to the glowing face of Bakhroma, you run hands through rough-chopped hair on a head laying on your chest. He’s listening to your heartbeat, waiting for it to slow down so he can start again. The air is thick--even the air scrubber can’t keep up with all your humidity--and there’s a halo around each bulb of the string lights just barely illuminating the darkness.

“How long, Ez?”

“Hm?”

“How long have you been waiting for that.”

“Most likely since the day you walked into my interview. I am a man of simple wants and you had all the right parts for my preferences.”

“For real, Ez.”

He tipped his head up to find you. “What you ask has many true answers, and I stand by the first. I have no qualms telling you of my weakness for a pretty succulence and a kind smile the likes of which you possess. But if you are asking when I knew I would have it, well, that may have been the first day you danced. Or when you asked me to read you to sleep. Or when I understood I wouldn’t let those bastard raiders get near enough to take their turn at your qualities when I had not had them myself. Or when you finally saw me as a viable person to drape your affections on; maybe it was that day too.”

“When I finally saw you as....”

“I have read many tomes and verses but none so full of beautiful passages as your face that day on the cliff. There is a difference of knowing and being. I knew the feel of your pull that day, but found I’d been in orbit all along.”

How he can live this way, twist everything into a tossed away poem...it should be exhausting. Yet you feed off it. You breathe it like air.

After another long cycle of frenzied entanglement and violent euphoria, you ask Ezra if he’d like to move to a cot, maybe get some sleep. “I’m not sure if I’ll be able to walk to the dig tomorrow morning,” you confess.

“No need to worry about tomorrow,” he says, wapping his arm around you and dragging you back to him, grumbling into your ear. “We are the only prospectors in this sector and the aurelac will wait. Until our new compatriots arrive, we are officially on hiatus. Recreational mining only. Restricted to the confines of this tent. By order of your supervisor. In the interest of more precious treasures. And I intend to strike it rich.”

“Well. I’m here to assist. And learn.”

“When it comes to this dig, trinket, you are more than competent. I am no longer your trainer. Partners it is.”

“Partners it is.”

The new contract is struck, signed and sealed in kissing and in touch and a long, slow fall into inevitable oblivion.