#and my hair is gloriously short once more. and i got a hair splinter from cutting it 😔 but cleaned up well enoigh that i havent haf

[steampoweredskeleton]

New worst feeling: expressing an emotion/feeling/experience to someone you have been very supportive to, and feeling them mark you as Weird and Strange

[kazoo5480]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Once Upon a Time (TV)

Killian’s back was slick with sweat in the midday sun, drops of it running down his skin glistening. Emma swallowed thickly, watching the sun beat down on her husband as she sipped her lemonade and watched him. His muscular chest was bare, his wrist brace strapped to his blunt wrist, the special attachment Marco had created for him attached at the end so he could wield an axe effortlessly. He raised his arms again, his legs widening their stance, all the muscles in his back rippling as he swung the blade down hard, splintering the log into pieces. His grunts making Emma’s clit slick, and needy with each moan he emitted.

He was so fucking hot, Emma thought watching as he knelt to grab the fallen pieces, stacking them back on the base to swing at them again. She felt her core clench with each purposeful swing, her thighs rubbing together to suppress her urge to get his attention, as she watched him diligently complete his task. He knelt again, that glorious ass bent in front of her, he reached for the discarded pieces, lining them up in a neat row along the others to dry. Killian took a look at Emma, and sheathed the blade before leaning it against their fence and turned to face her fully.

Emma was lost in her thoughts, who knew Captain Hook doing manual labor would rile any woman up this much? Her 300 year old pirate, was like sex on legs, his muscular frame, the tantalizing hair on his chest and stomach teasing her constantly, that perfect V of his hipbones. She bit down on her bottom lip, her hormones flooding through her veins like fire, and tried to distract herself with her book.

Killian had noticed when Emma came out with her book a short while ago, sitting on the double sun lounger with her book and the baby monitor, while Hope slept upstairs. He took in the short yellow dress that she wore. Her long creamy legs on full display, her golden curls shining in the sun. She looked happy and content. He also felt her eyes gazing over him as he worked, and tried to maintain concentration on his task. It was not an easy feat, as his wife’s eyes practically left scorch marks along his skin as she watched him.

He glanced over at her, she was chewing her bottom lip trying to maintain the façade of reading her book. He smirked, he would bet that between those pretty thighs she was bloody soaked for him. He strode towards her, sweat dripping down his chest from the labor, and Emma’s normally green eyes turned as dark as emeralds glinting in the sunlight as she watched him practically stalk towards her like a predator.

He knelt between her legs hovering over her. “Enjoying the view, my love? You like seeing me swing my big, sharp axe?” he said teasingly as he nipped the skin below her ear.

Emma gasped, and nodded, he felt her fingers trace over the planes of his chest, his muscles trembled at her touch, and her small hand around his neck dragged his lips against hers. Her lips were so soft, he licked into her mouth tasting the lemonade on her tongue. Sweet and tart, he tangled his hand in her hair, and Emma sighed into his mouth allowing his tongue to dip in deeper.

He leaned back slightly looking down at her, “Here?” He asked coyly, as he traced his fingers up her thighs, and under her dress. Emma swallowed and her eyes snapped shut as his fingers slid against her, knowing he felt the dampness of the fabric, and he curled them just beneath it grazing her soft folds. Killian moaned at the contact, feeling how wet she was for him, soaked just by watching him. “Yes” she whispered, her breath shaky.

“You like watching me perform manual labor, carrying all that heavy wood Swan?” He purred with a mischievous smirk, and Emma only nodded, unable to speak as he continued stroking her outer folds. “Tell me Swan, did you enjoy watching your husband slave away in the hot sun?” He smiled as he dipped his head to trail kisses along her throat, continuing to rub her heated core.

“Killian” she said with a shaky moan as he tucked two fingers inside of her heated channel. He kissed her, devouring her lips, sucking and licking. Emma’s fingers tangled into his hair pulling him closer. He felt her small hands deftly unbutton his pants, and moaned at the contact of her soft hand around his cock.

“Emma” he growled as he lightly sucked at the junction of her neck and shoulder, and he reared back slightly tearing the panties right off of her. Emma looked up at him, the sun bathing her in light, her skin warm and flushed. She looked like a goddess, and by all miracles she was his. His chest swelled with pride as he gazed down at his wanton wife as she clenched around his fingers, sweat shining on her brow.

Emma pushed his pants down quickly, as far as she could reach. Killian was breathing heavy, his minty breath was shallow, his tongue dipped out to wet his lips and she pulled the lever on the side lowering the lounger to its flat lying position. Killian hiked her dress up to her hips, and fisted his cock lining it up to her entrance. He rubbed the tip against her wet folds, biting his lip at the feel of her bare heated core against him.

Emma watched as he shifted his weight pushing her thighs wider, and she let them drop open shamelessly. Killian surged forward, entering her in one fluid thrust, and Emma’s head tipped back crying out. “Swan, neighbors love. You need to be quiet” he murmured, annunciating each word as he pushed and pulled his cock in and out of her leisurely.

He placed his mouth over hers, inhaling her sighs and moans, her hands scraping at his back seeking purchase, but the sweat of his skin making it difficult for her. Emma’s fingers curled into his hair holding his lips against hers, as he pushed her higher and higher towards her release. Killian groaned as he felt her cramp down squeezing him perfectly, they were kissing so deeply that she didn’t know who was breathing for who.

Emma cried out, it was too much. Killian felt the blood rush to his cock, her cunt wrapped like a vice around his cock as her walls began pulsing and fluttering against him, he slowed his pace drawing out her release. Emmas fingers gripped on to him tightly as he endured the sweetest form of torture, leading to his own, erupting within her, coating her womb with sprays of his hot seed, he panted as white lights crashed along the backs of his eyelids moaning her name.

He laid his head on her chest, gulping for air. Emma was panting, coming down from her own climax, and he gently slid out of her heat. Emma laid there unsure of how much time had passed until their breaths evened out, and he gazed up at her. “If that’s the reward of manual labor, sign me up anytime Swan.”

Emma giggled, and smiled up at her husband who was gazing at her with total adoration. “I can’t help it! You’re all muscular and sweaty, it riles me up.” He cocked an eyebrow at her, placing his hand over her still flat belly.

“I think those thoughts are exactly how we got you into your current state, love” he smiled and rubbed the tiny swell of her abdomen.

Emma nodded, “that’s true. Knocking up your wife less than a year apart from our first kid is entirely to blame on your ability to seduce me with your sweaty body doing yard work” and smiled gloriously, and laughed.

“Anytime my wife wishes to have me, she may. I assume that’s a perk of being married to someone who is completely devoted to fulfilling his wife’s every wish.”

She kissed him, as the baby monitor flickered to life and Hope let out a wail. “I’ll get her,” she said, leaning up to kiss him chastely. Killian nodded letting her up, and tucked himself back into his pants. “Back to work, break times over Jones” she said saucily as she strode into the house, leaving her ruined panties on the edge of the lounge chair. He stood up, pocketing her discarded panties as he heard the garden gate open and her father strode into view.

He swallowed thickly. “Dave” he nodded, and continued walking towards the wood pile, and Emma’s mother and brother strolled in behind him. Emma came out holding Hope on her hip and waved hello to her parents, looking surprised and grateful that they had not arrived ten minutes earlier.

“Emma, are you alright?” Her mother asked, running her hands over her daughter’s cheeks. “You look flushed” and Emma nodded, wiggling her hands at her brother in his stroller.

“I’m perfect, was lying in the sun reading before she woke up, must have dozed off” she said casually, and her mom nodded with a knowing smirk.

“I brought some cookies” Snow said as she reached beneath the stroller pulling out a tub of them. Emma smiled and took them, heading to the kitchen with them, and came out offering one to Killian.

“No thank you love, I will finish my dessert later” and Snow coughed as she sipped her lemonade hearing his words. Emma smacked his arm, and smiled at him shaking her head.

“Just don’t work too hard Jones” and he nodded, Emma’s father coming towards them to assist him. They worked until the sun began to set, and the ladies called them for dinner.

Killian shook his head, feeling deliriously happy and he loved his wife even more as he gazed at her holding their child on her lap, her hand caressing her belly slyly, as she talked about Henry and Hope. Three hundred and some odd years and the fearsome Captain Hook was reduced to a puddle of goo watching the most beautiful woman in all the realms excitedly tell her parents the news of their newest addition. He gazed at her like she was the entire universe, and how he wanted to tear that small dress off of her and finish what they started earlier.

Dave smiled and congratulated them. Killian raised a brow at his father in law’s tone, and Daved coughed uncomfortably. “She’s still my daughter Jones, so keep that look off your face” and Killian laughed, Emma laughed, and Snow flushed scarlet.

“What is it mom?” Emma asked, and her mom smiled.

“Looks like manual labor being too much to resist seems to be a trait you inherited from me” she whispered in Emma’s ear, who laughed and feigned disgust, her father and husband looked curiously at them unable to hear the words exchanged.

“Looks like you two aren’t the only ones expecting” Dave said and both Emma and Killian’s brows rose.

“You’re with child?” He said to his mother in law, who nodded smiling, and Emma clapped and grinned congratulating her parents.

“Who knew?” Emma said to her mom, and Snow laughed and shrugged.

“Just our genes I guess” and Emma’s cheeks reddened with a blush, and Killian found out later why after he put Hope to bed.

Leaning against their dresser in his towel, he laughed as Emma told him. Shaking his head, “You princesses, all hot and bothered by strapping men doing hard labor. Who knew that was the way into a princess’s undergarments” he said, smirking and laughing. “I could have saved myself some effort had I known that sooner” and Emma scoffed.

“You chase a lot of princesses Jones?” She said saucily, pulling her dress over her head and he gulped taking in her bare skin as she inched closer to him untucking his towel and letting it drop to the floor.

“Just the one love, and that’s more than enough for me" Killian grinned at her, nudging her nose with his.

‘Good” she murmured and pulled him in for a searing kiss.

@hookedmom​​​ @xsajx​​​ @kymbersmith-90​​​ @kmomof4​​​ @katie-dub​​​ @ohmightydevviepuu​​​ @lassluna​​​ @pirateherokillian​​​ @teamhook​​ @stahlop​​​ @elizabeethan​​​ @whimsicallyenchantedrose​​​ @resident-of-storybrooke​​​ @therooksshiningknight​​​ @jennjenn615​​​ @lfh1226-linda​​​ @ilovemesomekillianjones​​​ @killianswannn​​​ @stories-enchanted​​​ @eleveneitherway​​​ @girl-in-a-tiny-box​​​ @withheartfulloflove​​​ @kday426​​​ @lyssapup27​​​ @swanlovato​​​ @kaoslikesstuff @djlbg​​​ @kristi555​​​ @laschatzi​​​ @xarandomdreamx​​​ @lkles08​​​ @wyntereyez​​​ @bubblegum1425​​​ @xhookswenchx​​ @yasbio2015​​ @tiganasummertree​​ @winterbaby89​​​ @wefoundloveunderthelight​​ @hollyethecurious​​ @let-it-raines​​​ @jonesfandomfanatic​​ @searchingwardrobes​​ @dreamingdreamsalways​​ @oncechicagolove​​ @andiirivera​​ @vvbooklady1256​​ @gingerchangeling​​ @everything-person​​ @klynn-stormz​​ @qualitycoffeethings​​ @vampcoffeegyrl23​​ @enchanted-swans​​ @cassy1511 @ohmakemeahercules​​ @donteattheappleshook​​ @bluewildcatfanatic​​ @the-darkdragonfly​​ @demisexualemmaswan​​ @lavenderbudd​​ @grimmswan​​ @spartanguard​​ @flslp87​​ @ultraluckycatnd​​ @sarahpaq08 @thisonesatellite​​ @captainswan21​​ @zaharadessert​​ @mariakov81​​ @snowbellewells​​ @xouatxcs​​ @kiwistreetswan​​ @batana54​​ @nadine200179​​ @probalicious17​​ @courtorderedcake​​ @julesep3026​​ @jackieorioncat​​ @whatthehell102082​​ @xemmaloveskillianx​​ @jarienn972​​ @sthonour​​ @linda8084​​ @carpedzem​​ @pirateprincesslena​​ @daxx04​​ @winterbythesea​​ @artistic-writer​​ @scientificapricot​​ @cocohook38​​ @wisfan3000​​ @chrisilybrooke @pcrcabcth @captainswan4life85​​ @molly958​​ @kingofmyheart14​​ @badwolfreturns​​ @itsfridaysomewhere​​ @mcakers @chamomileandmint @fallingforthecaptain​​ @lovethelifeyoulive1106 @onceratheart18​​ @strangestarlighttree​​ @omgmarvelous​​ @justanother-unluckysoul @anothersworld

[evoedbd]

Pride and Swooning

Summery - A potential alternate few hours in Reiner's Castle. Kya makes an effort to learn some basic swordplay, only to find herself overly distracted by Helena. After an accident, Kya talks to Helena about taking unnecessary injuries for her. ********************* “Again.” August’s voice was taciturn. A sharp command that made Kya’s muscles twitch in dismay. Her sweaty palms shifted around the hilt of her wooden sword, gliding across the smooth sanded material as she attempted to correct her grip. “This is so much cooler in training montages.” she groaned, offering a good-natured smile towards the Knight as he lifted his own stick. They crossed their “blades” in a repeating pattern, allowing Kya to adapt to the collisions and motions. The wood throbbed in her hands after every strike. The impact danced along its length, rattling Kya’s body to her teeth as she braced against the blow.   Again and again, cross, high, low. It was almost comforting how repetitive the strikes were. It allowed her mind to roam. August was a dashing young man, with eyes like sapphires, filled with righteous aggression. The messy hair style suited him, rich brown locks adding a rather youthful appearance. His clean-shaven face was not so soft as to be called babyish, with strong cheekbones carrying his masculinity through to a chiselled jawline, softened by an almost adorable Prince Charming nose. The warm afternoon sun beat down on the field, bathing the short grass in orange hues. The grass was evidently trampled, baring the footprints of August’s armored boots and other prints of Kya’s body for each time she had been deposited on her rump. Somehow, despite the fast footwork and heavy strides, the grass had not been upturned. It still looked peaceful, still offered gentle padding for those who were bested. The battle cries and clashing weapons bounced off one of the Castle walls, which was made of a sandy coloured stone. A crisp, elegant colour that reflected the light onto well-kept pathways. Unlike the Queen’s castle, Reiner’s keep felt homely. Its corners did not slice the air, its angles were blunted. There was an undeniable softness. As if it had been painted with the landscape, instead of plastered over the top. “You’d best have your guard up, My Lady. Your pet sorcerer doesn’t have spells to save you!” The mockery from the guards echoed, though their laughter faded at the disapproving tongue lashing that followed from Isuel. Despite Helena’s pledge to serve, Reiner had still insisted on guards accompanying them. Whilst he had been willing to allow both Helena and Kya to train, he had not allowed them armor or proper weapons. Kya had been practicing with August, attempting to learn the basics of swordplay, whilst Helena was kept a short distance apart. The reminder that Helena was not by her side was enough to draw Kya’s gaze towards her Sorceress, who was sparring with two guards. Helena was a vision. Dressed down into simple pants and a sleeveless tunic as she stood against armored men. The Guards had insisted Helena’s arms be bare, so that she couldn’t hide any tricks up her sleeves. She also carried training blades, nothing that could cause enough harm to armored men should she rebel. The Mage’s movements were effortless, as powerful and graceful as everything else about her. She lifted her blades, crossing them to block an incoming overhead strike from the first guard. Kya’s lips parted in a small gasp as Helena stepped to the side, twisting the highest blade to flick the Guard’s aside. As the man’s arm crossed his body, Helena followed with a quick jab to his ribs with her second blade, flexing her arm yet again. The muscles flowed gloriously beneath her skin, revealing themselves down her forearm, along her bicep and through to her shoulder. Normally, that strength remained hidden, which made it all the more distracting for Kya. “-Thank you, unknown fantasy world cosmic powers for giving me this gorgeous woman.-“ Kya’s mind sang, even as she forced her mouth to remain shut. It wouldn’t serve to drool everywhere, after all. Helena never stopped moving, stepping through her motion as her other blade swept across the second Guard. She knocked his weight aside, sending him stumbling before sweeping the feet of the first guard. With both men down, Helena took a brief moment to relax, tossing her head back in an effort to get her hair out of her face. She wasn’t even out of breath, barely challenged by her disgruntled sparring partners. They grumbled loudly as they got to their feet, charging in once more. “-She’s holding back.-“ Kya realised, watching Helena continue to dance through the fight. Her blades flicked, parrying most blows, or deflecting. Helena never allowed herself to be caught, twisting and jabbing around the men’s weight. In the rare cases she was brought to her brute strength, Helena showed how dedicated to her training she had been. Her strength allowed her enough time to slip around her enemies, then let their weight do the rest of the work. “Kya!” Even Helena’s voice was a distraction. Full of warmth and concern as the Mage abandoned her partners and sprinted towards the smaller woman. Kya’s gaze was drawn to the neckline of Helena’s tunic, admiring the delicate collarbones on display. Then to ample breasts, which swayed and bounced subtly within the confines of a lace corset. Gods, the Mage was so comfortable to rest her head on. Neither too firm nor too soft. “-She’s so much better than memory foam pillows.-“ Kya silently swooned as her head was drawn into the tempting cushion of Helena’s bosom.  Helena held Kya’s head to her chest, even as she stepped past the girl. The Sorceress’ cheek rested on crown of Kya’s head, shielding it with her own. Her powerful arms and shoulders caved in around Kya like a blanket. As if cloaking her from danger. They held Kya close, pulling the otherworldly woman into a wall of warmth and comfort. Then, Helena lurched. She swayed on uneasy feet for a moment, leaving Kya leaning into Helena to keep the Mage upright.    August’s voice, a sickly thud and a horribly loud cracknaap resonated in Kya’s head, played out in slow motion as a blur of wood rushed by the corner of her vision. She felt a hiss against her temple, a blast of hot air against her sweaty flesh. “Kya? My love, are you alright?” Helena gasped, rearing back to cup Kya’s face in both her hands. Helena’s callused palms were so remarkably gentle against Kya’s jaw, as if they were cradling a form made of ash instead of solid flesh. Finger tips brushed against Kya’s ears, even as her view was obscured by a curtain of white gold. Helena’s brow rested against Kya’s, lowered and tense with concern. “Um, hi? What’s this about?” Kya questioned, unable to resist leaning a little closer to bump her nose to the Spell Caster’s. For that brief moment they were safe, encased in a curtain of shimmering winter gold. Hot breath brushed Kya’s lips as the Mage panted, gritting her own teeth for a few moments before withdrawing. As Helena withdrew, it was as if a haze was removed, a fog lifted from Kya’s senses as green filled her peripheral. “You should have been paying attention!” August accused, his voice coming from over Helena’s shoulder. Kya blinked, looking down to her feet as a blush formed across her cheeks.   The blush quickly faded to cold horror the moment her eyes fixed upon the upper half of a wooden sword. The wood was cracked up the centre, covered in jagged lightning like lines that radiated form an evident point of contact. The base of the blade was splintered, looking almost like the bristles of a broom instead of a training weapon. “Foolish Knight! If I had my magi-“ Helena begun, her voice clipped and hissing. Kya’s gaze lifted to her face, taking note of the expression. Helena’s teeth were gritted, biting back her words even as her lips peeled into one of her most deadly snarls. Rage and agony danced in her icy depths, tainting them from the loving warmth Kya was used to seeing. “Not even a day and you’re throwing threats around, Klein?” Altea’s voice added to the volatile concoction, full of rage as the pink haired Wizard rushed to her friend’s aid with the other Retainers on her heels. The blaze in Helena’s eyes strongly suggested that Altea’s interruption was not a welcome one. “-This isn’t good...-“ Kya noted. Helena stiffened, her body naturally shifting to guard Kya as her hands began to move, almost as if she might cast a spell. They were helpless, unsure what to do yet desperate to do something. Warmth danced across Kya’s cheeks as she reached out, letting the sword drop from her grasp in favour of taking Helena’s hands in her own. The Sorceress was quick to accept the hands, weaving their fingers together. Helena squeezed firmly, using the touch as an anchor as she rolled her shoulders. A soft hiss escaped her, soft enough to escape the Retainer’s notice but not Kya’s. “Babe, you’re hurt!” The American gasped, putting the pieces together quickly once her brain managed to function. She had been so distracted admiring her girlfriend that she had nearly taken the aged wooden training sword across the skull. Helena had thrown herself between Kya and the blow, and taken it right across the back. “A pain I’d endure a thousand times to see you safe” Helena spoke softly, clenching her teeth to bite back the insults towards the Knight and Wizard. “Alright. Lets go cool off. We’re all on the same side here.” Kya quickly placated, hoping everyone would listen. Tension hung in the air for a few moments, blistering and crackling like static between them. All it would take is one wrong move and Helena might end up in the Dungeons, or worse. One move from The Retainers however was liable to set Helena off, to trigger the Mage’s protective instincts. Nobody could afford to have the situation blow up, especially when it had been Kya’s fault in the first place. “Kya...” Helena began, her voice softened as she spoke to her lover. Even in her protectiveness, the Sorceress was incapable of cruelty towards her girlfriend. Unable to redirect her hatred. The American took advantage of this, gazing up into the icy expanse of Helena’s eyes. Kya put her best puppy dog eyes on display, aiming to disarm the Sorceress further. “Please, Helena. You’re hurt. Don’t punish yourself. Lets just go and sit for a little, perhaps put some magical cream on this before it bruises.” Kya pleaded, lifting her hand to Helena’s face. She had to rise onto her toes, but tenderly she brushed a few stray locks behind Helena’s ear. Afterwards, her hand did not retreat, lingering on the clammy expanse of Helena’s cheek. On the edge of her vision, Kya noticed Reiner herding the others away, giving them a small moment of privacy. The Mage sighed in surrender, though Kya expected she would have more to say, and turned her head. Tender lips fell upon the hammering pulse at Kya’s wrist, lingering there to deliver the gentlest of kisses. “I recall you saying you do not mind bruises?” Helena stated softly, almost as a question. “When YOU leave them on me, not so much. When it’s because you’re hurt, I hate them! A love bite or some scratches when things get kinky isn’t the same as a beating, Helena. One I absolutely consent to, the other is just pain!” Kya pointed out in an equally soft tone, once again reminding the Mage about Consent. Helena understood it, she forever sought it from Kya. The tormented Mage was incapable of forcing her will on her love. When it came to herself, however, Helena seemed unsure where she wished to assert herself. Every boundary she voiced was laced with confidence, the absolute intent to allow precisely that and no more. But, often times, to discover that she disapproved she had to be exposed. Each exposure broke Kya’s heart a little more. When a skim of a touch made the Mage jump in well contained fear, instead of barely restrained pleasure. It was a physical agony on top of anguish. Like ice spreading between her bones until she couldn’t breathe without an ache forming. “Any marks on you should be because you consent, Helena. That includes if I go vacuum on you.” “Go ...? What an unusual statement.” “If I leave hickys. Or scratches. Or handprints. Or ANYTHING. I don’t mind some love marks, I like being reminded I’m yours. But any other bruises? Injury isn’t sexy. Not on myself and certainly not on you.” Kya elaborated, her cheeks flushing despite herself. Her mind flashed to every class she had taken in school, the catchphrases about consent been sexy and abstinence is key. Consent may be sexy, but it sure as hell was awkward to talk about. “You’ve suffered enough, Helena. Don’t let yourself suffer. It isn’t endearing, and it isn’t what I want. When you suffer, I do too. If I miss you’re hurt, I feel guilty. I love you, and that means I want to be there for you. If you’re hurt, I want to help treat every wound. Or at least kiss it better.” Kya continued further, letting the words fall from her lips like droplets of rain across a field. Her tone remained gentle, loving, yet determined. She needed Helena to understand how serious she was. Needed the Mage to learn she was not alone in her pain. “How’s the whack?” “It... smites” Helena confessed after several moments, her expression still bewildered and cheeks flushed with a blush to match. Kya’s heart ached as she stepped closer, stretching her body and balancing up on her toes as much as she could in order to press a kiss as high as she could. Her lips rested against Helena’s jaw for a few moments, simply indulging in the contact before her hands found Helena’s biceps. “-I am a pathetic, thirsty wreck-“ Kya chastised herself as she palmed the Mage’s arms, feeling the ripples of strength as Helena’s hands found her hips. Kya finally found her feet, offering a radiant smile up for Helena.   “I can help” Reiner’s voice cut in from behind Helena. The Sorceress jumped, arms wrapping around Kya defensively even as her body curled like a shield. The Mage’s instinct was clear, if she couldn’t use her magic then she would use her body. Absorb everything incoming. Kya’s heart fluttered, warmth and affection laced with slight exasperation. “-I just told her I didn’t want her to suffer... but I love her for who she is.-“ Kya sighed as she waited, already knowing Helena would wish to withdraw. Perhaps she could ask Solaire to sneak some supplies into their room, if she could find a moment alone, or if not... “-I guess I better get good at kissing bruises.-“

[commorritestreettrash]

Rough Night In Commorragh

@lordsofmedrengard You know what I do have another ficlet! I wrote this before I got on tumblr, when Taffy was still being developed as a character, but it’s still damn good. 

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Part 1: The Best Part of Waking Up

One eye opened a crack and took stock of the situation around me. Snoring, mostly naked kin, not unexpected.  Didn’t look like my living space, which was good, since it smelled like cleanup would be quite the task. Pretty sure the clothes dangling from the fan are mine, though. Lucky they wound up somewhere easy to find!

Oh, Khaine, my head hurts. Should not have taken Adrenalight for that fight. Then again, it was fun, easy to get hold of, and the side-effects weren’t much of a problem in the arena. Plus, I won. Okay, poor life decisions rationalized, what’s next? I groggily pawed around at my left thigh (christ, can’t feel a thing, it’s gone numb). Should be a pouch there, all manner of delightful concoctions, one of them’s sure to make aching skull feel better.

“Hrnnngha?” The grunt came from somewhere underneath my shoulders. Shit, that’s not my thigh. One to the left maybe? Ah, there we go, not as numb as I thought. The pouch!!  Aaaand fan-fucking-tastic. Empty. At least, empty of the trance-inducing narcotics I had been looking for. I’ve never tried taking a dose of Psychon for a hangover, but I doubt it would end well. Okay, some charming piece of shit talked me into sharing my stash,  if I’d taken that much I’d be waking up in a rejuvenation pod, not a pleasantly bloody pile of sleepy Eldar.

Ups-a-daisy, girl-  fuck, my scalp!! OW!. Damnit, my gloriously (yet inconveniently) long hair’s caught in the armor of some dead-asleep warrior. But, upon further consideration, my hair is absolved of guilt, since, glory of glories, he’s got my half-full narcotic needle stuck in his arm!

A series of mixed grunts rises from those around and underneath me as I crawl over and and yank the needle from his limp arm, jamming it into my own and sighing as I depressed the plunger, a tingle of euphoria through my poor, dazed skull. I glanced down at the hair tangled through his armor, tugging to get it free.

Wait, is this tied on?!

Damn, it is. Looks like I got kinky* last night. Huh, this guy must have been pretty smooth. Should probably leave my contact.

*Translator’s note: The Dark Eldar lexicon has 1,227 words that can be approximately translated to English as “kinky”, each of which has subtly-different-yet-critically-significant connotations. The rune used here is one of the milder forms, and is best read as “activities outside of my normal range”, rather than “particularly extreme”.

I flipped him over and found a spot on his chest mostly free of tattoos. As full as narcotics as he was, I don’t think he even noticed. I grabbed a knife from my hip and pursed my lips slightly while I went to work.

Of course I had a knife handy when my pants (okay, black fiendleather panty-thing) were currently dangling from a ceiling fan. Why would I disarm myself just to having sex?? Aside from being boring, acting like you’re sure that your partner won’t kill you mid-sex-act implies a lot of emotional commitment, and I’m not ready for that.

Anyway, I dug the tip of my knife through flesh, scarring a message, feeling the trickle of pain into my soul as I did so:

“Srry bout scars- c me outside the Pit? Ask 4 Tamephela, <3!”

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Part 2: Danse Macabre

The gloom of Commorragh settled around my shoulders as I stepped out the door of wherever it was I had wound up after the previous night’s debauchery. Buncha marks around it, what are they?

Ah, I recognize the sigils. Hellion gangsign, the Gutrip Claws, specifically. Not a huge gang, but they had a reputation for seriously fucking up people that started shit at their parties. Good for business when you run a string of drug-dens. 

My head twinged a bit, a reminder of just how enticing those drug-dens could be. Ought to get home. Where the hell is my bike?

A quick glance around showed no sign of it. Damnit. Why weren’t things ever easy? Well, aside from living in a city of complete bastards. No matter- I kept track of my shit. I checked the tracking-screen built into my dagger’s handle- aaaand groaned. Loudly.

Why did I leave the fucking thing on a roof half a click away and a hundred meters up? ...Probably because somebody dared you to climb down the wall, dumbass. Ah well. There’s more than one way to get airborne in Low Commorragh.

I slipped into a low, loping stalk and set out. A bit of work later and I had turned up what I was looking for.

The hellion was gliding down the street confidently, but his eyes darted crazily across those who walked the streets beneath him- a sure sign of too many drugs. Or possibly a gambit meant to lure me in- but no, the faint wrinkles around exposed pectorals suggested the Thirst was getting to him. 

Prey.

Could go after him with my agoniser- but nah, whipping that around would invite someone to steal it. Plus, if I just kill the little shit, his friends- or at least, co-gang-members’ll probably come up behind me in an alley at some point to have a few sharp words. So that’s out- let’s put on a performance instead, make ‘em think twice.

Think. Plan. Wait for the moment- move. 

Dash up the wall. Feel it’s sharp protrusions rip a long gash in my left palm. Spring off in a lightning fast arc. Cast my left arm before me, sending a long arc of blinding blood into his eyes. His mouth opens in a warcry, but my hand is already at my pistol. I feel a surge of terrible glee as I send a splinter right down his open mouth into the back of his throat a moment before I strike the ground, rolling.

He descends upon me, howling, his glaive out, dropping towards my head as he shoots forward.  A smile, as I feel his pain begin with a burning along his throat- no need to move quite yet.

His howl turns into a horrible, hacking cough as the splinter-toxins I selected take hold. Blood first, then his partially-liquified stomach, pour out of his mouth, his glaive falling from his grip as he feels the acids of his own digestive tract start to burn up his vital organs.

Leap forward once more, the ecstatic electricity of his suffering galvanizing my legs, and land in front of him upon his skyboard. As his essence bursts out of him, wrap a leg around him, setting the skyboard spinning, and extend one arm- a bloody mockery of a dance, sending showers of his internal fluids spraying across the street and onto onlookers. 

Slow, as I feel his pain slow and his death begin. Bring the skyboard to a slow, final twirl. Hold him close, bend him forwards, and share a kiss as the last of his lungs spews forth, coating my face in sweet-smelling blood and gore. How beautiful, the light fading from his eyes, the exquisite agony as he feels his torso collapse in upon itself.

End the performance- cast him over my shoulder, a sprinkle of blood from my palm following him, his ejection sending the skyboard into a graceful, tumbling flip. Sketch a bow, bringing myself to a halt.

  A human slave on the end of a chain looks on in wide-eyed horror- the light musk of his terror adds a delightful bit of ambience. The kinsfolk on the street grin wildly, and begin a short round of applause- excluding, I note, a couple with similar tattoos to the fresh corpse. Them, I can feel their surprise, anger- and yes, just a hint of fear. Good. They’ll think twice about trying for revenge. 

I love it when I can send just the message I want!

[kylorenisintobdsm]

The Bet, Chapter 2

Chapter: Two - Terms and Conditions

Rating: NC-17 for explicit language and acts.

Pairing(s): Keylo Ren/OFC, Poe Dameron/OFC

Tags/Warnings: Star Wars: The Force Awakens, Star Wars: The Last Jedi spoilers, Light BDSM, Mentions of Rape/Non-Con, Underage Prostitution, Size Kink, Size Differences, Dominance/Submission

Summary: Lieutenant Analiea is one of the last commanding officers left in the Resistance. She’s chosen to complete a desperate, highly dangerous mission that inevitably fails and is captured by the First Order.

Kylo Ren is relentless in his need to find the remaining Resistance and stamp them out. He requires the information that is in Analiea’s mind to do so but finds it difficult to rifle through the memories of a woman who has lived a difficult life and seen so much in a short amount of time.In desperation, Kylo makes her an offer that she can’t refuse.

Analiea has escaped one bet in her life already, and this one seems unfairly set up in her favor to win.

Chapters 3 and 4 can be found here!

Kylo felt compassion for her; the wretched, unshakable kind he had developed for that lonely scavenger. He'd learned nothing from his failings with Rey and was turning down the same path he had taken before. His weakness, it seemed, was pretty women whose minds he'd delved too deeply in.

Before, when he had questioned Rey, Kylo had thumbed through her memories with ease to demonstrate his ability, hoping it would encourage her to give him the information he sought without painful effort. When he had sought answers from Analiea, he'd become helpless to live through the moments of her life as she saw fit. She wasn't Force-sensitive like Rey, but she was inexplicably able to manipulate her own mind.

The suppression and recall of thoughts and memories Analiea had control of was what he had struggled to maintain before he murdered Snoke, which made her natural ability to do so all the more staggering.

He stared at her unconscious form and thought of all he'd witnessed. The vividness of all her memories still stunned him; he could smell, taste and see everything she came into contact with, and not all of it was good and pleasing. Her internal monologue was crisp, as though she stood whispering in his ear, and her emotions...Fuck, her emotions had infected him and never left. Even now echoes of her pain whispered in his head.

He'd gathered much about who she was as a person. Years of sexual slavery as a minor had naturally made her distrustful and pessimistic. The Resistance had become family to her where she had learned to trust others with her life. She'd found strength and power in combat and rebuilt her self-image with the confidence it had given her, rising quickly through the ranks chasing that feeling. They were surprisingly similar in that way.

Like him, she had endured and changed. She'd given herself the last name of Rohmhalt, refusing to remain an unknown slave from her planet of Ynu. She liked the color purple and was unusually humble, yet also aware of the way others viewed her physical appearance.

She was still a stranger to him, yet she was now familiar.

Kylo circled her now, taking in her visage once more with new eyes. He reached out with a gloved hand to touch a lock of her long hair, rubbing the strands reverently between his thumb and forefinger before letting it float back to her shoulder.

Kylo watched her chest rise and fall with the steady rhythm of her breaths, hovering over her shoulder while thinking of what to do next.

General Hux would, naturally, anticipate that his efforts had yielded the results they had in the past. When he was forced to reveal that he'd been unable to pry no more information from her than the Stormtroopers had, the redhead's already low belief of his competency as Supreme Leader would take another hit.

More failures would eventually result in a mutiny, and that he couldn't have.

Shame assailed him. If he was truly honest with himself – something he rarely allowed himself to be - Kylo knew he couldn't have Analiea executed, despite what Hux wanted. 'Not now,' he thought as he clenched his teeth. 'Not yet.'

The fact remained, however, that he had to do something with her in the meantime.

She awoke in a different room.

Analiea was lying on a king-size bed surrounded by oceans of black silk. She stretched, feeling the cool fabric slide against her shoulders, then realized that her flight jacket had been removed, as had her boots. Panicked, she propped herself up on her good arm and surveyed her surroundings with blurry eyes.

The floors were the same shining black marble as the Supremacy's so she safely assumed she was still on board the First Order's dreadnaught. The room held all the things a high-class living quarter would need; an open-door closet, a bookshelf, a gloriously large refresher, and a small black table. Sparse, but impeccably clean, and, as always, the color scheme matched the red, white and black of the First Order.

The bedroom door opened with a hiss and in stepped Kylo Ren. His legs quickly ate up the distance between them; he was unnervingly large, much taller and more densely built than most of the men she'd ever known. Even if she hadn't just had his hands wrapped around her neck, Analiea would have still felt the same intimidating energy coming with him that was causing her instinct to scream at her to flee.

Her right arm flopped uselessly at her side, bungling her attempt to quickly rise with any grace. She scrambled to the edge of the bed, wobbling unevenly, but she wasn't fast enough; Kylo Ren was already in front of her.

“Going somewhere?” he sneered, looming over the bed.

It was a rhetorical question – one that she hated him for. Run she might, but he would catch her.

He turned to take a seat at the table, falling into his chair with a sigh. His gaze was on her, intense and unreadable, and he steeped his fingers thoughtfully before speaking again.

“Explain to me,” he began quietly, “how you were able to evade giving me the information I sought.”

His brown eyes were burning holes in her but Analiea refused to drop his gaze, no matter how uncomfortable it made her feel.

“I got good at suppressing things,” she answered sincerely. “Some days it was the only way I could manage. It stands to reason I'd be good at giving in to them, too.”

Kylo Ren made a small noise of agreement, his brows arching slightly in recognition.

“You're my prisoner, Lieutenant. How do you suppose you rectify that situation?”

“I don't,” she snapped. “I expect to fucking die.”

“You will die if you continue to deny me,” he bit out, a flare of rage rising to the surface and splintering his cool facade.

Analiea scoffed at the threat, wiggling across the bed until she could swing her legs over the edge and place her bare feet on the floor.

“What, you think my life is some precious thing to me?” she asked. She let the question hang in the air, tilting her head at an angle like a curious animal. “It isn't.”

He searched her eyes for precious seconds before letting his gaze fall pointedly to her lips. Such a lovely shade of pink they were. She swallowed thickly and he watched her throat work against her tongue with rapt attention.

“If I can't benefit from your mind,” Kylo said, his voice a dark, breathy whisper, “then perhaps I could benefit from your body.”

Keeping her for sex wouldn't be viewed as a weakness. The majority of soldiers and officers in the First Order were men; they knew the value of relieving stress. He knew that even Hux had whores sent to his quarters at least once every few weeks. The true problem he would incur would be the explanation of his failure.

She didn't immediately rebuff him or recoil, something that surprised him immensely. When he made the statement he anticipated anger, indignation or revulsion. It was possible that she found him attractive, but she was intelligent. It was far more than likely that she saw his interest in her as the opportunity that it was.

“Would you give it to me,” he baited, “in exchange for your freedom?”

Silence met his words but he felt no remorse for the offer. He was lying, of course; he would never truly set her free, no matter if she spread her legs for him. The freedom he spoke of was the freedom to continue to live unrestrained on his vessel, the freedom to live and be well taken care of. Honesty was a matter of perspective.

“You could rape me and give me nothing if you just wanted to fuck me,” Analiea countered. “Why even bargain for it?”

Kylo leaned back in his chair, mouth drawn tight. “There are many, many things in this galaxy that I'm willing to take by force, but a woman isn't one of them.”

She slowly looked him up and down, taking in his clothing, his size, his scarred face. Assessing him in a way that was sexual, but also wasn't, as though she was weighing her odds. More silence followed after this. And then...

“What else are you willing to give me?” Analiea asked with interest. This would be no different than the transactions in the past to her, a means to an end. He didn't want her to view it this way, but that was something he could only change over time. He wasn't paying for her by the hour, he planning on buying her entirely.

Kylo sighed and surveyed his living quarters. “You would have free roam of my facilities,” he said. “Three meals a day, whatever you like. Clothes made for you, according to your tastes.”

“No, that's not nearly enough,” she countered, her pretty face souring.

“I want free roam of the Supremacy – with reasonable supervision,” Analiea amended quickly, sensing him ready to deny her, “medical care to heal my broken arm, all the rest that you already offered, and a stipulation to our agreement.”

Kylo was struck speechless. Somehow, this woman - who literally had nothing to bargain with - was managing to set the terms of her own imprisonment. Morbidly curious as to where she could go from here, he scowled and waved his hand for her to continue.

“You can't fuck me until you beg for it.”

His face surely flushed then, and not at her vulgarity, but by the very idea that she could even imagine such a scenario could occur. Did she think him so weak?

“That won't happen,” he bit out through gritted teeth. “I don't beg for anything, let alone a former whore's pussy. You will beg for me.”

He expected the insult to hurt her feelings, but she only blinked. 'She's heard worse,' his mind supplied. Guilt soured the words like bad milk in his mouth and he felt something aiken to regret at having said them.

“Hm,” she murmured with a mocking smile, “I sincerely doubt that.”

His pride throbbed from the blow her flippancy dealt and he wanted to rage at her, was barely containing himself from flying from his chair and pressing her down on the bed she sat on.

“How about this, then; I will give you the coordinates of the remaining Resistance in two month's time if I can't get you to say the magic words. If I win and you end up begging for this whore's pussy, you will give me a fully stocked escape pod with unblocked communication channels and program it to send me to the closest planet at that time.”

“Agreed,” he said quickly, leaning forward. “And when I win, not only will you give me the coordinates, you will stay aboard the Supremacy for my use.”

“Agreed!” she chirped, irking him with the blatant optimism she displayed.

“I have terms of my own,” he nearly yelled, so fierce was his ire. How did she continue to manipulate him? Shame, embarrassment, and excitement flooded him at the idea of their deal, all causing him to grow hard. He adjusted himself minutely, spreading his legs just a touch so that his cock could comfortably throb against his thigh, but it didn't go unnoticed by her.

Analiea settled the smile on her face but turned serious at his tone and waited for him to continue. “I have conditions; one, you will sleep by my side every night. Two, you will wear the clothes that I want to see you in. Three, you will follow my instructions without question. Is that understood?”

“Yes,” she sighed. He knew she just barely resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

“Yes, sir,” Kylo corrected, his eyes flashing. “You will only ever refer to me as sir or Supreme Leader. Never refer to me without a title or by my name.”

Transforming before him, Analiea became softer, sinking into the silk of his bed as she relaxed her body. She curled her toes and blinked once, giving him a demure look of obedience that did not strike him as artificial. 'Such an actress,' he thought. It called out to something dark in him and soothed his previously pained ego.

“Yes, sir,” she said sweetly, causing the blood in his veins to sing and his neck to flush with pleasure.

Kylo Ren had never gambled before, but he idly wondered if any prize existed that would be as satisfying as her to win.

Guards had escorted her to and from the med bay after their conversation. Kylo Ren had excused himself without explanation, and she was more than happy to be left alone with her thoughts during the procedure. The process of having her arm placed back in its socket was a painful one. Minor surgery was conducted on the breaks in her forearm, placing a bone mold between the fractured pieces that fused them back together. When the bots were done sewing her back up, she was finally given an injection to manage the ache it left her with.

Back in his room - her new prison cell, unless she wanted to have a Stormtrooper at her back - she chose to use the refresher to wash away the dirt and sweat that had accumulated over the past few days. His shower was made of glass, with a large, thin nozzle attached to a pipe in the wall and a seat at the far end. It was odd, she thought, for a ship to have that, but she understood immediately after stripping down and stepping inside when water began to pour down her back instead of foam.

It was bliss. To be able to use her right arm again to touch her aching body, to take a real cotton cloth with heady, masculine-scented soap and lather herself from head to toe - it was all enough to nearly make her cry with relief. She stole from his shampoo and conditioner, working them into her hair from root to tip. The water that poured down her sides was tinted slightly brown with dried blood, and she watched it with disinterest as it drained away at her feet.

Analiea knew that even if she won this bet of theirs that Kylo Ren would never give her what she wanted. The point of the deal was to buy her time; time to contact the Resistance or to escape. His desire for her and his inability to do much else had created this situation. She held all the power here; she had what he wanted in every way possible. While she found him attractive and the idea of his body inside hers made her skin throb and feel ten times too tight, she wouldn't dare willingly give herself to a man who had hurt so many people she cared about.

She may have been young when she'd been a prostitute but those were lessons one never forgot. She knew how to read men, and while Kylo Ren was more difficult than most, his actions and words were rawer than any she had ever seen. He was, deep down, desperately lonely - though she doubted he could admit it - and wanted more than just to place his cock in a tight hole. He'd asked her to sleep beside him, to wear the outfits he chose for her. He wanted to play at master and slave, at a twisted version of husband and wife and was seeking out comfort, adoration and reciprocated hunger. She could give it all to him, which would only make him want her more. He was the kind of man that would never have enough.

After the shower she wrapped a black towel around her body and went searching through his closet, finally settling on an old, soft tunic of his. She let her long hair air dry and finger combed it, making herself as presentable as possible for when he returned. Droids delivered her a meal meant to feed a family of five, she was sure, but she ate only small amounts to not jar her shrunken stomach. Placid and well-fed, Analiea climbed into her captor's massive bed, pulled back the silken sheets, and lost herself in restful sleep.

[recentanimenews]

An Introduction to the "SAIYUKI" Anime

An Introduction to the SAIYUKI Anime... As Told By a Fan Who Read the Manga Almost a Decade Ago

By Dee Hogan

After being off the air for nearly 13 years, Saiyuki has at last returned to grace our televisions with attractive men beating the crap out of each other while waxing poetic about their dark-and-stormy pasts. But with Saiyuki's previous anime seasons scarce and its manga volumes even scarcer, you might be hesitant to check out the new series.

  Well, fear not! I, an ardent Saiyuki fan who read the manga as it was coming out almost 10 years ago, am here to provide you with the story exactly as I remember it. Which is to say: Very vaguely! Now you, too, can enjoy Saiyuki Reload Blast as if you were right there with the rest of the fandom, reading the manga in the mid '00s, selling the volumes to help pay for grad school, and now racking your brain to piece together the semi-existent plot of that gloriously feelsy action series you still love so very, very much.

  Come along with me on this journey, won't you? This journey...TO THE MAX!

Caution: Loving irreverence, questionable accuracy, and spoilers for the Saiyuki and Saiyuki Reload manga below. Content warning for mentions of child abuse.

  But First, a History Lesson!

Saiyuki began as a manga created by Kazuya Minekura. Well, I guess technically it began as the Chinese novel Journey to the West. Saiyuki is based on that classic epic, in the same way that Taco Bell is based on Mexican food.

Journey to the West is a Buddhist-inspired comic adventure story that follows a monk, a monkey king, a half-pig man, and an exiled immortal as they travel to India to retrieve sacred sutras. It's a complete story that has been translated in its entirety into English, unlike the Saiyuki manga, which is neither complete nor fully translated. Tokyopop imploded (along with half the U.S. anime industry) in the late '00s, leaving us one volume short from finishing Saiyuki Reload, and we've seen neither hide nor hair of the manga since. I am still salty about this.

  Pictured: Saiyuki sexily locked out of the U.S.

  The anime adaptations have fared somewhat better, at least: the three TV series (Gensomaden Saiyuki, Saiyuki ReLoad, and Saiyuki ReLoad Gunlock) were all released in the U.S., as was the film (Saiyuki Requiem) and the most recent OVA series (Saiyuki Gaiden). I only caught about 15 episodes of the anime, but my memory is that it's a reasonably faithful adaptation, albeit one that tones down the R-rated elements and adds a bunch of filler stories. Depending on where you live, you can stream both the original TV series and the Gaiden OVAs, but the two ReLoad sequels are confined to dusty DVD shelves for the time being.

  And if all these title variants are confusing you, then congratulations! You're well on your way to being a Saiyuki fan, because they're confusing to me, too. Saiyuki is to manga as Kingdom Hearts is to video games. The series has been running off and on for twenty whopping years, and it's splintered in a  bunch of directions along the way. For now, all you really need to know is that the central story goes Saiyuki, then Reload, then Reload Blast. Everything else is prequels and side stories.

  As for what that central story is all about, well...

    The Story!

Saiyuki takes place in Shangri-La, a fantasy world created by plucking Chinese fiction and history fruits from across the centuries, tossing them in a blender, and adding a splash of good old-fashioned manga tropes for spice. Humans and youkai share the land, six-shooters are as common as swords, and the main characters ride around in a jeep that's actually a dragon. (Or is it a dragon that's actually a jeep?)

  Things are going great until a youkai sorceress hooks up with a mad scientist and they start brainwashing youkai into murdering the faces off every human they can get their hands on. Then the local humans start panicking and murdering the faces off every youkai they can get their hands on, whether they've been brainwashed or not, and pretty soon everyone in Shangri-La is starting to feel pretty Shangri-Low.

To keep the peace, the local Bodhisattvas decide to send their Top Man, Double-Oh Sanzo, out West to find the culprits and tell them to knock it off. Our priest is joined on his quest by three companions: Goku, Gojyo, and Hakkai, each with their own uniquely upsetting backstory and particular set of skills. They're also all youkai (or at least youkai-adjacent), but they've been equipped with handy-dandy power limiters to keep them from going berserk like the others.

  Together our quartet travel across the lands, getting into scrapes, fighting off the minions their mysterious antagonists send after them, and frequently threatening to kill each other as they journey ever Westward, hoping to one day reach their foes and stop their nefarious scheme.

    And I'd tell you all about that nefarious scheme, but I have straight-up forgotten it. The Big Bads' oh-so-sympathetic underlings are prominent in the original Saiyuki series, but then they have to take an extended spa vacation, so most of Reload is one long semi-self-contained arc about cowboys and necromancers. It's GREAT, mind you, but all the tension and shootouts and good good angst have shoved what's-her-name and scientist-face and their plan to do something-or-other straight out of my head.

  Honestly? It doesn't matter. Saiyuki is about the journey, not the destination. More to the point, it's about the people you get to hang out with along the way.

  And speaking of...

    The Characters!

  There are a lot of compelling supporting characters (mostly antagonists) who drift in and out of the Saiyuniverse, particularly Kougaiji and his merry band of Youkai In Need of Hugs. But the story is carried by its four protagonists—most of whom you're also going to want to hug, and two of whom may try to kill you if you do—so you're gonna want to get to know them.

    A chain-smoking, booze-slinging, trigger-happy, permanently irritated Buddhist priest, he's the current holder of the Sanzo title and the wielder of some very powerful sutras, though he's usually content to keep those stored away and just shoot people in their dumb faces instead (all faces are dumb to Sanzo, I'm pretty sure). He met his trio of party members through various traumatic adventures and brought them together, offering them a chance to start over. Despite his grouchy exterior, deep down he's a good guy.

  ...Deeper than that. No, further. Little further. There it is! See? Good guy.

  Sanzo's history is told in fits and starts, which is to say I can't keep it straight anymore. I feel pretty confident saying he had a rough childhood, because this is Saiyuki we're talking about. And I know he witnessed his master's murder and it messed him up right proper. I have a working theory that Mr. Mad Scientist (Jianyi! That's his name!) is involved, because he used to be a Sanzo priest himself and sure seems to know a lot about our Sanzo, but take that with a grain of salt. Sure would make for some good drama though, yeah?

    Goku's the youngest-looking of the gang and often acts like it. Don't let that fool you, though: He's actually a powerful monkey king who was imprisoned on a mountain for hundreds of years. His memory's as patchy as mine, so all he really remembers is being lonely and then Sanzo freeing him and then him not being lonely anymore. See, happy things do happen in this story!

  Like another Son Goku you may know (who's also based on the monkey king in Journey to the West, by the by), this one fights with a staff and loves to eat. He's generally cheerful and friendly, but if you take off his diadem, he gets real angry, and not just because that diadem brings his whole outfit together, you uncultured boor. Mostly it's because the diadem is his power limiter, and removing it makes him hulk out somethin' fierce.

  I know this is the part where I'm supposed to say “you won't like him when he's angry,” but berserker Goku leads to some of the best fights and dramatic beats of the series. I like him when he's angry a lot more than I should.

    Half-youkai, half-human, Gojyo is the child of a “forbidden” affair between the two species. A literal redheaded stepchild, he was abused by his youkai stepmom and shunned by society at large. He had an older brother he loved (not like that, you pervs) who stepped in to defend him, to the point where he was eventually forced to kill his own mother to protect his brother. The two eventually meet again and it's... it's real sad, y'all. Gojyo's backstory is real sad.

  Nowadays he's a foul-mouthed gambler who likes to pick fights with Sanzo and quarrel with Goku, but he's maybe the most loyal member of the team and (despite being the least powerful) doesn't hesitate to step up to defend others. An asshole with a heart of gold, more or less. He fights with a sickle-flail that doesn't make sense but looks real cool, and he's technically a womanizer, but don't let that stop you from 'shipping him with one of his teammates. Gojyo is Extremely Shippable, you see.

    There are two kinds of people in this world: Those who think Hakkai is the best character in Saiyuki, and those who are wrong. Since the rest of the team has zero chill, Hakkai has an excess of chill to balance them out. Perpetually smiling and perpetually The Saddest, he's the team peacemaker and magic user, the owner-driver of the Dragon-Jeep, and a secret badass. Hakkai has removed his power limiters exactly twice, and exactly twice he has ruined his opponents. Other fun facts include: Can and will drink you under a table. Technically died once to save his friends. (Don't worry, he got better.)

  His backstory is basically one big D: emoji. Born a human, he had an older sister he loved (yes, exactly like that, you pervs) who was kidnapped by the resident evil youkai noble. Hakkai slaughtered ONE THOUSAND MUTHAFUGGIN YOUKAI on his way to rescue her, but she died anyway because Kazuya Minekura is a cruel, cruel manga-ka. Also, it turns out that when you slaughter ONE THOUSAND MUTHAFUGGIN YOUKAI, you, uh...turn into a muthafuggin youkai yourself. Womp womp.

  Hakkai wasn't doing so hot after all that. In a fit of guilt and despair, he even ripped out his own eye to appease a vengeful youkai (he eventually replaced it with a fake one, and got a rad monocle to match). He was ready to rip out the other eye, too, but Team Sanzo showed up in time to slap his hand away and offer him a new life and a second chance. They're his FAMILY now and he loves them VERY MUCH and they all need to PROTECT each other and—

  Er. Ah-hem.

  So. Uh. Yeah. I used to scour eBay looking for a UFO doll of this guy because that's how badly I needed to give him a hug. Hakkai is Best Boy. It is known.

    Okay, But What's it About?

  Kicking ass and having feelings and looking damn fine while doing it.

  And if that's not enough for you, then here's a bit more: The title of the manga (最遊記) is a play on the Japanese title for Journey to the West (西遊記). They're both read as Saiyuki, but the manga replaces the kanji for “west” with the kanji for “most” or “extreme.”  With one simple character, our journey to the West has turned into a journey... TO THE MAX!

  And, honestly, that's what Saiyuki is about. Big expansive world, big bombastic fights, big heart-on-sleeve emotions, big tragic histories, big meandering narrative. Everything is cranked up to 11. The series first ran in a shounen magazine (targeted at boys) before later finding a home in a josei one (targeted at adult women), which I think speaks to the way it dances between all those extremes: From rip-roaring action-adventure to character (melo)drama and on over to broad or black comedy before bouncing right back to one of its other modes again.

    Is it over-the-top, unfocused, and unapologetically packed with shipteases and emotional fanservice? Oh, yeah. One hundred percent. But, all teasing aside, I love it. I used to devour new volumes in one sitting, cheer out loud during the fights, bite my nails when my boys were in danger, giggle at their down-time bickering, and lap up all those theatrical, quasi-philosophical monologues.

  I love it in a way that's hard to put into words because it's so intricately tied to being a stressed-out high school/college kid in the mid-to-late '00s, but I think it comes down the series' overall tone and message. Because, despite its many moments of levity (particularly in the early going), as bullets fly and youkai rampage, the story always comes back to a bunch of sad-yet-defiant survivors trying to make it in a world that seems fundamentally, maybe even permanently broken.

  It's devastatingly grim at times, but even at its most dismal, it always manages to offer a kind of skeptical hope instead of just pessimistic tragedy porn. “Everything is terrible, but I'm not gonna give up,” in essence. Or maybe more to the point: “Everything is terrible, but I have people who support me, so I can get through it.” And there are times even now when that message has been a comfort to me, melodramatics or no.

  Saiyuki is too gleefully ridiculous, both in terms of world-building and staging, for me to take it too seriously or champion it as A Great Classic That Everyone Should Try. Frankly, if you read “a jeep that's actually a dragon” and didn't at least crack a smile, you probably should have walked away right there.

  Even so, with its raging battles, skewed sense of humor, smokin' hot anti-heroes, and willingness to dive head-first into sensationalized but nevertheless sincere explorations of trauma, depression, community, and identity, it scratches a particular itch and does so very effectively. Saiyukiis intense and bombastic, as overloaded with bullets as it is with feelings. It's stylish, heartfelt, top-tier trash, and I can't wait to roll around in it all over again. Lock and reload, gang. It's gonna be a blast.

  About the author, Dee Hogan

Dee is a nerd of all trades and a master of one. She has bachelor’s degrees in English and East Asian studies and an MFA in Creative Writing. To pay the bills, she works as a technical writer. To not pay the bills, she devours novels and comics, watches far too much anime, and cheers very loudly for the Kansas Jayhawks. You can hang out with her at The Josei Next Door, a friendly neighborhood anime blog for long-time fans and newbies alike, as well as on Tumblr and Twitter.

  SAIYUKI RELOAD BLAST is available for viewing now on Crunchyroll!

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