#hot single ogres near you

[manriah]

WOT ARE YEW DOIN IN MA SWAMP!?

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#me #LOOKS #makeup looks #makeup #cosplay #shrek #halloween makeup #shrexy #shrek fest #shrek fest online #shrek retold #shremp #shrek is love shrek is life #hot single ogres near you #its all ogre now #ogre #green #fashion #makeup enthusiast #alt makeup

[harrison-abbott]

why are you so rude?

I was walking down to the supermarket. The road was a quiet area and it led on to the park. This was somewhere nearing the twilight and it had been a hot day all day. The heat saturated across the grass and trees of the park. At length I saw a couple of boys, a wee bit older than me, drinking on the park. I knew they were drinking from their sound, before I saw them. When they saw me they froze, like the silence of cats. And then they walked towards me. One held a bottle. The other had a football at his feet. The one with the bottle said, “Hey there, Pal. You want a drink?” I said no thanks and I tried to go on. He stopped me going with his big arm. I looked up at him. An oafish ogre like face. The bottle was cider. He pushed it in front of me and I caught the acrid whiff of it and winced. “You not like cider?” he said. – “I just don’t fancy any, thanks though.” The other boy passed the football to me. “You wanna play a game with us, at least?” I shook my head. The oaf boy went, “Why are you so rude?” And he leaned in his face right in to mine. I could smell him stronger. Nor could I make eye contact. Meeting another person’s eyes has always been something I’ve found difficult – even if it’s with somebody that I know and like and love – I just find linking in with another person’s gaze incredibly difficult and it’s like trying to hold onto a rope or trying to lift weights that are way above your body weight. I can’t do it. Find it really hard. … And then he just smacked me. A right punch in the cheek. And he headbutted me. His friend with the football had been grinning the whole time but now he stopped smiling and he watched in the background, and stopped tapping his ball. “Fight back!” the ogre boy said. “I don’t want to,” I said. I still couldn’t look at him. “Well, fuck off then,” he said. And so I obeyed his order as that seemed like the most logical thing to do. My head hurt a little bit but not really. I mean, I’d just received two blows to the head but I was pretty dazed as opposed to it being acute pain – there were far more painful things.

So I walked away from them both and the ogre boy drank his cider and the other boy didn’t say anything and I got to the end of the park. There was nobody else in the park and I wondered how it could have been different if any other civilians had been present. As I neared the far gate my head was shaking and jaw trembling and eyes wincing and then I got to the gate and went onto the cement of the road and crossed to the other side of the wall and then I buckled on the floor and started sobbing. I sobbed about as loud and blubbery as I could remember. There seemed an impossibility about violence that was so sublime that there was no answer to the question mark. And I’ve thought about this incident for such a long time: ever since it happened. It happened when I was 14 and I’m 31 now. And I’ve tried to speak to other people about it and they’ve never really cared. I remember the smells and physicality of that day as if they were still happening right now.

And I return to the incident and fantasise that I was bigger than him and that I had the strength of a 31 year old and that I could smack him back. You know, how men are taught violence by action movies and computer games, when they don’t actually know what violence is like? The irony was that I fantasised about knocking that cunt out with a single upper cut to his ugly mouth and that he would be floored and I would walk away resplendent. That’s not how violent actions work. They are quick and clumsy and they don’t hurt physically and only leave you feeling like you’re not a man because the other guy was larger than you. And the police barely care because they have to deal with hundreds of similar incidents each day. And you are the one who is left to live with it, wishing that you had a time machine or that you were stronger back then. All of the other violent incidents pile up in a mound of useless rubbish that never has any positive point. And even when you’re 31 you still don’t feel like a man because you’ve ‘never won a fight’. You replay the same incidents over and over and they are nothing like those silly macho movies that we all know across history. Those were fiction; and your memories are real.

#writeblr #creative writing #writers on tumblr #real life stories #tumblr writers #spilled ink #spilled words

[anaiswriterr]

The Dragon Kings Queen

Pairing: Dragon King!Bakugou x Queen!Reader

Rating: M

Warning: This is part four, I’d like to point out be aware: 𝐬𝐞𝐱𝐮𝐚𝐥 𝐜𝗼𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝗺𝐞𝐬, 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐠𝐮𝐞, 𝐠𝗼𝐫𝐞, 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐞𝐭𝐜. Please don’t read if you are not comfortable with it, and if you’re under the age of 18+ I will give a warning when it becomes NSFW but at the moment it’s SFW.

<masterlist>

Synopsis: ➪ When the word marriage crossed your mind, you believed you’d marry someone you loved. Not this brute of a King. So here you are standing at the end on an alter, pushing away the urge to run and fight. Possibly start a new life, instead of being dragged into a loveless marriage. But for the sake of your people.. They say he’s not what rumors make him out to be, but how can you believe that when his eyes burn into yours; just as fiery as before. How could you, ever love someone as barbaric as him…

- chapter four: gifted dagger -

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You clutch hard onto an old bladed dagger, it digs into your palm and slices a long line against the soft skin. Droplets of blood pools onto the gravel below you, heaving you throw the weapon into a tree bark. You groan out in frustration when it doesn't latch onto the wood, "I can't do this!"

"Don't say that, it's your first day. Try again," Kirishima urges, bending down to grab the dagger off the ground, handing it back to you placing the blade down into your palm; you seethe in pain. Swallowing down the yelp that threatened to escape passed your lips, Kirishima notices your stained palms before snatching the dagger back from your grasp.

"We'll pick this back up later, don't want you getting an infection."

Perhaps he was right, the blade was only slightly rusted - it's been over an hour with the blade constantly digging into your skin; if you didn't cover it up soon then an infection was possible. You shrug, "An infection compared to getting eaten by a bear, or an ogre is nothing in my eyes; so don't worry about me. We can continue," You reach out to grab the dagger out from his hands, but he hides the blade into his holster. Nodding his head side to side, "No can do, my job is to make sure you are safe 24/7 and if that means making you go to the infirmary then so be it."

You arch a brow wiping away the sweat beads off your forehead from the hot dewy morning, "Is that a request?"

"Your Highness, will all due respect, it's an order."

"Fine, but I quite frankly would like to survive so if we could continue this on later-"

"Of course," he smiles, "Now, go fix your hand. I was told Bakugou would like to speak to you-"

"That will not be necessary since I will not be speaking to him." You pour a cup of water over your palm, attempting to clean off the dirt. After yesterday's events you have vowed to not utter a single word to him, he's clearly a hard head who never had anyone stand up to him. As his "wife" what better then to punish his actions then using the silent treatment towards the temperamental brat. Kirishima scratches the back of his head sheepishly, fiddling with his weapon. "Well you know Your Highness-"

"Y/N will do just fine. Please no formalities between us two."

"Right. Um well, you know. Bakugou is a hard kinda guy to work with, it was hard for even I to get to be as close as I am with him. He hates silence, he might ask for it. But radio silence might not be the best answer between the two of you.. considering you two are on thin ice right now."

You arch a brow in question, wiping the sheen layer of sweat off your brow bone. "What do I do then, Kirishima. How do I win over a beast who doesn't attempt at all?"

***

To say you utterly hated Katsuki Bakugou was an understatement.

For one night he managed to put on a mask that nearly caught you in a rope of curiosity for the man - maybe he was just misunderstood. Like hell, his mother had the same fighting and burning spirit one of a dragon meanwhile his father was more calm, well rounded, wise like a dragon. So why was Bakugou the mean one of the bunch.

'You can't fix everyone, Y/N.'

Well that sentence surely did not age well, you wince as the healer places an alcohol soaked cotton ball onto your wound. Biting your lip back in pain it takes up all your strength to not pull back and away from the old man.

"I'll be right back, my Queen it seems like you may need some herbs from the garden and recently I've run out. Don't worry it'll only take me five minutes." The healer reassures you, you nod in return pressing the cotton ball into the cut, cleaning the area in the meantime.

"That's alright, take your time." You smile.

The stinging pain slowly subsided when you finally became accustomed to the clear liquid, to handle a dagger will be much harder now. You are determined to prevail, just a small bump in the road nothing quite serious. A knock on the infirmaries white door retracts you from your thoughts, eyes wondering towards the window that overviewed the garden shows it's not the healer.

"Come in."

Short blonde hair with ruby red eyes strut in, Mitsuki, your mother in law smiles down at you. "Hello dear, I heard you were in here.. I wanted to speak to you. Are you okay?"

You can feel your heart nearly drop, your mother in law was as sweet as a ripe strawberry in season but the aura she carried screamed and resembled Katsuki. You nod, greeting her with a formal cheek kiss, "Oh I'm fine just a tiny cut is all. What would be the problem?" You wave off her worry.

"Oh no dear, there is no problem. I'm glad it's just a cut, I was worried it was far worse. I just wanted to spend time with my daughter in law - I wanted you to know that though this may be a hard time, I went through this. You will be just fine. I also... heard your and Katsuki's fight last night.. I didn't mean to intrude I was just on the way to find Melody when I stumbled upon you two, how are you feeling?"

Oh dear. She knew, did anyone else know? Of course people know the two of you were practically testing who can yell the loudest - this is embarrassing. He really did manage to get a rise from you.

You stare down at your palm, this was the first time anyone here has actually asked whether or not you were fine.

"I-I'm okay, he's just hard to get to."

The bed of the infirmary dips slightly beside you as Mitsuki's takes a seat beside you, "Yes, he can be a handful most days. Katsuki doesn't exactly know how to be... nice? It's probably my fault, I was constantly pushing him as a child. You know, he turned out to be a fine warrior; a fine commander." You nod listening to his mother, "I guess the two of you are no longer on speaking terms. I get it, I moved from a neighboring kingdom to here. It was hard to get his father to open up," Mitsuki sighs.

"But the two of you fell in love."

"You are very right, but like all love. It took time."

A silence falls between the two of you, she was the only person who you could remotely relate to right about now. She was the only one who could even fathom how scared you are, you were served with a silver platter all your life nearly always spoon fed and suddenly thrown into a tribe you knew nothing about. "How did you do it?"

Mitsuki arches a brow, "What do you mean?"

"H-How do I survive in that forest? What do I have to expect even after? How did you do it?"

The former queen sighs, eyeing your injury. "Well, from my kingdom we had similar principles I already had the basic knowledge of outdoor survival. To keep it short," She grabs your free hand in comfort. "I'm sure they haven't bothered telling you the objectives, the point system.. the tribal ceremony for those who make it out of alive. You must come out with a Goblin heart, no exceptions. Afterwards believe it or not you are placed on a pedestal at midnight the day you arrive back where you must eat the entire muscle, uncooked. The blood is told it'll bring great fortune and fertility. The process.. was nevertheless grueling I felt like a caged animal with all the drums and cheering. Y/N you must not, and I repeat my not throw up during the feasting."

You nod intently, stomach curling at the thought of a eat raw heart. But tribal traditions and regulations must be met, your heart pounded. It seemed like no matter where you turned there was always a set back, a catch. You survive the forest and now you must feast in front of the entire kingdom?

"Stay high, on top of the trees are the best option. Don't make a fire at night - I know, it'll be tempting. It'll grow cold as night falls, but the most dangerous creatures come out then and are attracted to light. You'll be dead before you even know it." Mitsuki lectures with a stern gaze, tightening her grip around the palm of your uninjured hand. "Find running water, a stream, lake, river. Whatever, it's freshwater. You'll catch your fish there, berries and nuts are also located near there. If you'd like to start a fire I suggest start when the sun rises, the creatures of the forest will retreat since they are nocturnal."

You store this information into your head, such valuable keys of survival. You are determined to return breathing, to return alive.

"Goblins are tricksters - never trust a single word that utters from their mouths. It's poisonous. They are most active during the day, but during sunlight stay low and stay quiet, follow the wind and it'll guide you. That is all I can say, I wish I could say more. Personally, I attempted to change this law for years. It never seemed fair, I pray I see you again Y/N."

"Thank you. I hope to see you as well." You smile sadly at the blonde woman who carried a guilty expression, her hands finally let go of your free one. "I'm terribly sorry, Y/N. I have one last thing to gift you, It's not much. Katsuki was supposed to give it to you this morning but it appears the outskirts have called upon him once again." Mitsuki reaches out for a golden box to the left of her, the velvet embroiled box calls your attention.

"It's said to be a gift from the gods. The gods who birthed dragons, carried down by generations. All Dragon Queens have used this, a sacred weapon to help kill the beast and restore balance; Katsuki has made the executive decision that you get to receive this gift." Mitsuki's hand fiddles with the locks of the box, the top lid opens with a flick of her fingers.

A blade, shines in the light.

Cleaned and sharp, the Queen's dagger passed down from hundreds of years worth of battles.

Is gifted.. to you, by the king.

"I-I can not accept this. This gift, I do not deserve this. It's sacred-" You babble, waving your hands you gently push away the box bestowed to you between the spot that separated the both of you. Two queens of the Dragon Kingdom. "You can, and you will. I was gifted this dagger two months after both I and Masaru's wedding. Katsuki wanted you to have this sacred weapon now. He has chosen you, please take it."  

You nod in response, hands trembling as you reach out for the velvet box. The handle of the dagger stings in your possession, the bleeding in your right hand has finally stopped when you hold the blade with two hands. It was much more easier to carry, sharper, and even thinner - as light as a feather, fit for a Queen, fit for battle. It was your husband who bestowed this gift to you, "When you are out there, Y/N. Remember.. to fight like a dragon."

"And how must I manage to fight like a dragon? I don't even know how to throw a dagger properly - at a still object, may I add." You show her the deep cut in need of stiches on your palm, "Dragons, my dear, always find a way to win."

***

Your palm is tightly wrapped with herbs to protect the freshly new stitches, meeting Kirishima in the backwoods where training took place. You managed to learn how to build a fire, a makeshift knife if your original weapon were to ever be kicked away from you, how to catch a fish and how to determine which berries were poisonous and which were safe for consumption.

You wince at the feeling of sharp branches scratching against your bare legs, dressed with royal training gear you wondered if you could actually make it to the finish line. You take a bite of a berry, it's tart yet semi sweet flavor cleans your palette of fish. Kirishima watches from the side with a satisfied grin, nightfall was quickly approaching and since this morning you have requested no sort of rest. You drink away at your makeshift cup, the leaf holding only a handful of water you eagerly drink away at.

Kirishima looks up to the darkening sky, hews of purples, pinks, and blues paint the sky as stars begin to appear.

"I should probably get you back to the Palace," He says wiping his hand away from dirt he collected off the tree bark he leaned against - watching your crouched and exhausted figure warm your hands over the mini fire you created. You look up, "I suppose you're right," You reach over to the stream beside you cupping a handful of water and watering down the fire, stomping it out with wet breaches and leaves. Patting it into the ground to stop the embers from continuing to burn.

Kirishima fiddles with his swords and daggers, "You did great today, Y/N." He praises you, proud of how far you've come in just a day. It took him hours to catch a fish when he was just a child, when his parents were alive. You thank him, moving beside him as the two of you walk down the backwoods trail. Only sharing small talk and friendly conversation.

You hum at the story he told of both him and Bakugou, "Well.. how exactly did the two of you meet. You two seem so close to one another, not to mention.. Kirishima you're very loyal to him - his family. What's your story?" There's a visible hitch in his breath, his shoulders tense up as he stumbles upon his words. "I-I'm so sorry! If you don't want to talk-

Kirishima chuckles waving off your worries, "No, nobody has ever asked me. We were just.. brothers. I met him in the mountains, I was just eight years old and back then Dragon hunting use to be a huge problem. Hunters, Poachers - they would all terrorize Dragons who lived peacefully with no mercy murder entire hoards. My parents.. were hunted and killed along with the entire clan and neighboring tribes. I was running, miles away from my home for days. Crying, hungry, thirsty, I was to afraid to fly because they would see me."

You listen intently, nodding along to his words, saddened by his past. Feeling guilty for even asking, he continues.

"Bakugou, can be mean, a brute, barbaric, and even sometimes cruel. But I promise you he has a good heart; so easily he could've turned his back away from me in the mountains. Let the Goblins and Wolves feast on me, instead he took me in. Into the Royal campgrounds, his parents welcomed me in. Cleaned my wounds, gave me a hot meal, warm milk to combat the winter, fresh pair of boots and clothes, even a warm bed to sleep in. Bakugou didn't talk, didn't even introduce himself to me after a few days. However if he didn't take me in then I would've died alone in the cold. And for that I am loyal to them, hell he even let me hold onto his toy for a while." He chuckles.

A silence grows between the both of you, with only snapping branches beneath your boots. Its crunches sooths the silence until he spoke once more.

"I hope you know you're going to be okay, Y/N. I believe in you, and in three days time when you have to walk into that forest; I am convinced I will see you also walk out.

"Thank you Kirishima, I-I'm sorry for what happened to your family."

The redhead waves you off once more smiling to you as the castle gates approach, "It's okay, things happen for a reason. Now go clean up, Melody should have your bath ready. Sleep tight your Highness." He bows gesturing for you enter passed the gates. You press a small kiss to his cheek watching a dark red blush spread throughout his face, "Goodnight Kirishima."

Walking passed him and into the handmaidens arms, Kirishima watches you. A hand pressed hard onto his sizzling red hot cheek that burned out against his palm, smiling sheepishly, gushing over the lingering feeling of ghost lips that once pressed against his cheek. Turning away with his back foot, he hears two pairs of heavy boots stomping against the ground, royal guards heave - catching their breathes.

"What's wrong- where Bakugou?" Kirishima quickly asks eyeing the guards who ran all the way here from the stables in search for him. "Sir Kirishima, King Bakugou has requested your immediate arrival at the outskirts-"

"It's the eggs, sir!" The other interrupts, "The Dragon eggs, the four Gardina left behind."

***

"What's the problem? What happened with the eggs, I thought they were fine."

"Since Gardina's sudden death the eggs need warmth, there's talk from other kingdoms across the seas even, that people are thinking about stealing them, selling them for one million gems on the magical black market." Bakugou grimaces, his arms crossed over his chest. "It seems that we should pay a visit, remind them who we are."

Kirishima nods his head, moving along with his friend passed the campfire where soldiers sat. "What can I do to help?"

Bakugou moves the curtains of his tent, "After you train Y/N, the same day as the games I need you to take the eggs and hide them away as far as possible, I don't care where just away from  here. Hide them with the others in the mountains if you'd like - we can not afford them to go missing. Far too dangerous for anyone else." The blond commands, tiredness seeps through his voice as he rubs his eyes to combat the sleep he's been in desperate need for. "I'll give you the green light when to bring them back, I won't return to the Kingdom until the day of the games. Did my mother give Y/N the Royal Dagger?"

Nodding to himself Kirishima smiles, "Yes, she was given it this morning just before noon."

"How did she do?" Katsuki rubs the back of his neck, "Rocky as first, but the girl picks up fast. Will you be here to send her off?" Kirishima tilts his head crossing his arms, "I don't know if she wants me there."

"If you care about her coming back alive, you'll be there." ***

- 3 days later -

The carriage ride is slow, dangerously slow as you remember the long tight hug Melody gave you before your leave at the sunset, Former Queen Mitsuki sits in front of you, her hand clutches onto yours in comfort as you shake in fear in your seat. Kirishima is waiting outside the enchanted forest where it was the most safest - a crowd has formed of simple tribe and clan members outside their homes as they attempt to try and get a glimpse of you; their Queen.

You have yet to meet them, only knowing the castle walls and the workers who served.

You can feel your dagger inside it's brown leather hostler dig into your thigh; but it's fine. It's the only thing keeping you distracted from your pounding heart beat against your chest and the clamminess of your palms. The stitch's finally healed by a magic teller.

You don't even notice the purple hews of the setting sun turning pitch black with only the moon and stars to prove it's light on the passage way;  you breath deeply through your nose. Watching how you approached the enchanted forest quicker then you anticipated. Queen Mitsuki and King Masaru insisted you sleep, but you respectfully declined. How were you supposed to sleep when you were being forced into the most dangerous forest known to mankind. They could've just simply pushed you into a hungry Dragon's nest.

The carriage stops and the horses neigh signaling your arrival, a part of you wishes your mother had declined the offer of King Bakugou it would've been nice if he were to even apologize. But since you do not live in a fantasy world, you are reminded this is real life. And you are most certain no prince dressed in armor will come to your rescue and insists he runs off with you. You're stuck here.

You look back nervously at the former king and queen who both bite back their bottom lips, "I will see you in three days time. We both will."

The door to your side of the carriage is thrown open by Kirishima who holds his hand out to grip yours, "M'lady."

Hesitantly you let go of Mitsuki's hand, bidding the two goodbye and latch onto Kirishima's calloused rough ones. Your boots settle into the ground when you let go of his hand, eyes catching a pair of vermillion orbs, ones you haven't seen in three days. His necklaces of teeth he's collected over the years frightens you, will you have a necklace like that one day? "Are you ready, my Queen."

His eyes.

They say nothing at all, just a simple red gleam. He watches you approach the entrance of what seemingly looked like a one way ticket to death, is he going to say anything all? Probably not.

His malicious words still ring clear in your mind, "You wont be a Queen if you're dead."

Death is something you refuse to meet, at least not yet. You turn to face him, he has no emotion and the tears that threaten to spill are wiped away by your wrist. The only people here to witness the games are him, Kirishima, a few men from the counsels parliament, royal soldiers (who you suppose are only here to protect the king and stop you if you decide to run) and both Bakugou's parents who insisted on staying in the carriage. Bakugou's quiet glare is something most would be terrified of, but you refuse to be belittled and underestimated.

"Y/N? Are you okay?" You hear Kirishima ask, your eyes detach from the blonds. Nodding you wipe your clammy hand against the leather hunting skirt you were dressed in. "I'm fine, I'm ready."

You're scared. That's an understatement, "Time starts as soon as you enter, retrieve the Goblin heart and come back here the third day at sunset. If you are not here by then we will assume you have died." A counsel man announces, you hold back the urge to flip him off - he didn't know you. Nor did you know him, to throw your life away as if it were never meaningful to another was plain cruel but there was a thing you refused to do.

Give up.

"I'll see you later Y/N."

'I will not die'

You set out into the forest, without looking back, with the feeling of two vermillion eyes staring into your back.  

TAGLIST: @loxbbg @urmomsshousee​ @samkysnks @mikithekiki @aegeanblues @mykuronekome @lowkey-a-faerie-in-disguise​ @orange-aesthetic-yay @katsukibabe​ @vvanills @katiekat300​ @utterlyconfused-tm​ @learningasigo​ @bigkoalafications​ @bnhaficswriter​  @tspice283​ @simpforeveryone​ @crackhead1-800​ @poetryandhoetry01​ @bakasbitch18 @riceballsandanime​ @franko-pop​ @lostmarimoismyhubby​ @junniev8​ @thirsthourdemon​ @cowward​ @the2ndl​ @reaperintheroses​ @bakugousmrs​ @maemi324​ @beautifulparisiangirl​ @commandertorinshepard​ @bnhafan101 @meliapis​ @thecaoswitch @liviwivi1 @hikaru-mikazuki​ @angie-1306​ @theinfamoushotdog​ @minibobabottle​ @honeylemondragonemperor​ @iloveitblackbnha @yokesmam​ @annepamgkrth​ @the2ndl​ @sugarandsoft​

AUTHORS NOTE: Personally one of the worst fucking chapters I’ve produced, anyways yooo Bakugou kinda feels guilty Y/N is going through this but you know this is going to be a strength building exercise for her. The ceremony after is based off of GOT so iykyk. Anyways my eye has been shut for like three days it just keeps watering and so irritating to write with. Okay I’m done ranting, I hope you liked it. 

#my hero academia #boku no hero academia #mha #mha x reader #mha fluff #bnha x reader #bnha #bnha fluff #bnha angst #bnha smut #mha smut #katsuki bakugou #katsuki bakugo imagine #katsuki bakugo headcanons #katsuki bakugo angst #dragon king katsuki bakugou #bakugou x reader #Dragon King #dragon king katsuki #dragon king bakugo #bnha fantasy au #dragon king katsuki bakugo #eijirou kirishima #Kirishima Eijirou #mha fantasy au #mha todoroki #izuku midoriya #midoriya izuku #kirishima dragon au #katsuki x y/n

[bread-elf]

DWC 2021 - Day 3

Compromised Chain of Dominion “Well this is embarrassing…” Jiroki muses out loud, staring down at the ground that’s yards away from her, feet dangling in the air. In the depths of a hot, nasty smelling cave that belongs to an Orge. A contract gone wrong and now compromised, the mission being to retrieve a magi’s staff that they use as a foci, which somehow got into the hands of said Orge, who Jiroki can see right now preparing a big pot of water. Though she doesn’t talk to herself. She speaks to the comrade she had brought along tied up and suspended with her, who is right behind her. “So…” Orinous Lovias, Silvermoon’s Shovel Knight, speaks up behind her. “I know before this you said you were a bit ‘out of shape’ since you haven’t been working for awhile. But this wasn't what I had in mind." The pair tied together back-to-back, another rope attached to their bondings that suspended them from the ceiling of the cave.

“Shut up!” Jiroki gives a deep growl over her shoulder, borderlining bestial despite being just a Kaldorei. Though she huffs a breath and looks around, eyes constantly scanning. “Just think of a way for us to get out of here; I’m open to ideas.” “Can’t you just use your fancy moves and summon your glaive? I’ve seen you do it.” Orinous suggests. “I need my hands free for that. If I were to do that now, it would get trapped between us, or in us.” “Ooh, right…” The Sin’dorei goes quiet, also scanning the area as well, his half he can see at the least. Facing more towards the Ogre than Jiroki, he can see the brutish beast going through ‘ingredients’. Different fungi and spoiled meats get tossed into the cauldron, and even a rock. “Elfie stew, elfie stew~” A single eye to match his single head, the Ogre has a sing-song attitude as he stews his cauldron, looking forward to a meal of stringy elven meat. The ingredients are mixed in, a fire roaring beneath, and he steps away to fish for something more. Amongst the tools and decor of the cave Orinous’ eyes glance around, and while the Ogre moves aside a few hanging items on the far side of the cave something glints. “Jiro! Jiro!” He quickly whispers, shifting his body some to get her attention. “I see it! The staff!” “What?! Where?!” She in turn tries to look, but can’t see from the current angle, trying to get them to turn a bit. The staff in question is hanging on the cave wall, alongside other different weapons and tools. The Ogre reaches for a huge mallet, pulling it off its hanger. Though he pauses at the staff, grasping hold of it. Taking the staff, he reaches it behind his back and begins to scratch himself, using it like a back scratcher. Some dirt and grime get scraped onto the staff in the process, the Ogre sighing in great relief. Once satisfied with his back he pulls the staff forward again, and starts to pick something out from his teeth. “Ew! That’s disgusting!” Jiroki hisses, looking away so she doesn’t have to burn her eyes with the sights of an Ogre just living his life. “Ooh, the contractor isn’t going to like that.” Orinous states, though he can’t help it as a small chuckle forces its way out of him. The staff is returned to its spot, and the Ogre begins to move away. “Glubglub out of leeches!” The Ogre’s voice booms out, looking over at his hanging prizes. “Stay put! Be back!” And then lumbers out of the cave, heavy footfalls shaking the ground until they become more and more distant. “We have to think of something fast-” Jiroki says, taking a look around near the ground for any ideas. Orinous ends up looking up at the rope bindings up ahead, seeing what it was attached to. The cave had many stalagmites and stalactites in it, though with the Ogre’s living area the stalagmites had been crushed. Though up above the stalactites remained, nooks and crannies hidden in between their formations, and a piece of wood had been wedged in there where their rope was tied too. But the wood already looked splintered and partially crushed, as if mishandled by very large burly hands. “Hey- start swinging!” Orinous says, then starts to use his legs to heave himself forward, trying to get his momentum going. “What- ow, hey!” Feeling bits of his armor poke and prod at her as he moves, though she starts to move her legs as well, using their length to her advantage to make their swings bigger and bigger. Her ears twitch as she hears the bit of wood start to creak in protest, and she tries to make them bigger all the way up until the wood snaps. Both suddenly plummet hard to the ground, weighted down by their armor. There’s little time for them to react, Jiroki trying to land on her feet, but she’s yanked by Orinous much heavier weight due to his plate armor, and a burst of white hot pain courses through their bodies on impact. “Sunwell’s Ass!” A curse slips out of the chivalrous knight, the two groaning in pain as they slump to their sides. Though both are well trained warriors, they keep their focus and start to make their way back up, at least to a sitting

position. “I don’t think that bastard brought my bow in here-” Jiroki says, having lost it in their initial capture, though something else catches her eye. “There’s a sharp blade hanging up there, we can use it to cut the rope.” Looking to where the Ogre’s tool rack rests, holding the staff as well. “Alright, stand on three?” Orinous suggests, and starts a countdown. Once on three they both move to get up, and at first it seems like it will work. But the Ogre had tied them with their heads in line, and they had almost forgotten their height difference. They stumble and Jiroki can’t stand straight, and in their haste they begin a squatted crab walk towards the rack. An old, Orcish made heavy blade is on the rack. “It’s too high!” Orinous looks up where the blade hangs waaaaay up high, an easy reach for an Ogre, but not so much for a pair of tied up elves. Jiroki grinds her jaw, thinks for a moment, then nods. “I have an idea.” Trying to force the pair to move, making them turn so Orinous is facing the rack. “I’ll lift, and you try to get it, ok?” “Wait, you’re going to lift- woah!” Orinous is taken by surprise as the Kaldorei woman suddenly leans forward, hoisting him up onto her back and lifting him off the ground. The tall woman puts her tall, strong legs to use as she straightens them, giving Orinous a bit more height. She steps backward, getting him close to the wall, and he plants his feet along the rock. “Dear Goddess, you’re heavy!” Jiroki wheezes. “I’m in plate armor!” Orinous counters back, though his feet start sliding up to reach up higher towards the blade. “But this is- wow, I’ve never been lifted up like this before!” He can’t help but give a little chuckle. “It’s actually pretty sexy-” “HURRY UP!” “Right, on it-” His feet point up, and he can touch the blade with them. But it’s hooked onto the rack, and he can’t pry it off. Resorting to kicks, he gives it multiple ones to try and knock it off, the blade clanking against his armor leggings numerous times, until his efforts are rewarded. The blade handle plucks off the rack, though falls towards them. “Ah-!” Orinous yelps at seeing it come down, though thankfully the side of the blade just bumps into him, and it clatters to the floor. Just in time too, because Jiroki’s knees give out, and she drops. Managing to turn a bit so the heavy plated elf doesn’t land flat on her, but he too is roughed up again as they both land hard on their sides. Light thumping is heard, steadily growing in sound and also felt in the ground, the Ogre making it’s return. The pair try to get up, but Orinous quickly scoots over and drags Jiroki along, getting closer to the blade to start cutting away at their binds. When the Ogre steps in, it only takes him a few seconds to realize his captured prey were on the ground. “Hey! Glubglub said stay put!” The Ogre drops a soaked sack, inside writhing with leeches, and he moves forward in just a few, quick steps that thunder against the ground. But the elves manage to free themselves, and they quickly bound in different directions to avoid the oncoming mallet that crashes on the floor where they just were. The ground splinters and cracks from the sheer force; if either were standing there they would have been pulverized. Freed from his bondings, Orinous seizes his shovel, brandishing it like he would a weapon. “You brute!” He declares. “Prepare for justice… Shovel justice!” And by sheer willpower his shovel flares to life, the power of the Holy Light coursing through it. “STEEL THY SHOVEL!!” The Ogre roars back in challenge, and charges the Shovel Knight. Orinous takes a few steps back to lead the Ogre in, and Glubglub raises his mallet high to crush the puny elf. But as the Ogre does, Orinous raises his shovel to deflect, and there’s a blaze of light as the Holy Light deflects the blow and protects the paladin. As the two face off with one another Jiroki looks up to the staff, their bounty. The Kaldorei has thousands upon thousands of years of climbing experience, and the jagged rock is nothing to her as she quickly climbs

up the wall, finding proper footing here and feeling for something to grab there. She makes it up towards the rack, and reaches over to grab hold of the staff. At her touch, for a brief moment the head piece sparks in reaction, and it draws the attention of the Ogre. “Glubglub’s back scratchy! No touchie!” The Shovel Knight is ignored as the Ogre begins to storm over towards the she-elf with booming steps. Jiroki bounds off the wall and lands on her feet nimbly, wielding the staff in both hands. Albeit untrained, she has her own magical properties, and concentrates to unleash a blast of arcane energy at the Ogre. And yet, being untrained, the blast goes completely awry. Staff pointed forward, the projectile rockets to the side instead, blasting into the rock and into random objects, and debris showers everywhere in the cave. Even Orinous has to shield himself from the sudden shower of debris, though something clatters near his feet. Taking a look down; it’s a old wooden shield! Round and beautiful, his heart almost skips a beat, but it gives him an idea. “Glubglub ANGRY!” The Ogre roars, trying to smash Jiroki with his mallet in multiple strikes. The Kaldorei uses her agility to dodge the strikes, but can only keep up for so long before stumbling, losing her footing because of the ground constantly shaking. She gasps as she looks up, seeing the mallet about to aim right at her. Shield in hand, Orinous preps it on his shoulder and begins to spin as if ready to play shotput, and then hurls the shield with all his might at the Ogre. Upon leaving his hand the shield flares with Light, just like his shovel, and it flies straight for the Ogres’ head. A bullseye is made, and the Ogre is stunned, stumbling forward and dropping his mallet. He roars in agony, but the stun gives Jiroki enough time to sprawl away before he flops forward. Even in heavy plate armor the Shovel Knight can run pretty fast, rushing to aid Jiroki and help her to stand. Pure instinct drives him to take her hand, and he pulls her along as the pair quickly escape the cave before the Ogre can regain his senses. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Once the pair exited the cave they were in the dry realm of the Blasted Lands, and Jiroki immediately leads them North, to the Swamp of Sorrows. There the swamps is familiar territory for her, the base of operations for her mercenaries the Greyshields. And so once they were out of the Blasted Lands and far from the reaches of Glubglub, they came to a halt on one of the paths in the swamp. “That could have gone a lot worse.” Orinous pants, losing his wind from running so much in heavy armor. Jiroki doesn’t fare much better either, bracing herself against a tree as they can finally catch their breath. “Ugh, that was terrible…” Staff in hand, they at least had got what they sought to do. She ends up slumping down against the tree, and Orinous soon follows to sit beside her. “We should uh- probably stick with sparring for a bit longer, before getting you back into the swing of things.” Orinous says, trying to sound light hearted, but gets a snarl in response. “Oh shut up.” Jiroki hisses back, frowning. But her expression isn’t just her typical frown, a mix of something else as well. Filled with shame, as she reaches up to rub her eyes, her elongated ears drooping a tad. “I don’t need your pity. I’ve turned so pathetic.” Orinous watches the prideful woman wallow in her shame. He tries to reassure her though, not wanting her upset. “So this is… Where your Greyshields are?” He asks, sounding curious as he glances around. His question makes her raise a brow, but it distracts her enough. “Yes… Well, over there.” Motioning with a free hand forward. “The other side of the swamp.” “Ah. It’s a, nice place…” He glances around at the swamp, not typically an area he’s familiar with. Though on the other side of him there’s a small patch of wildflowers, tiny petals but in full bloom. He takes one, then looks at her. “Hold still.” “Huh?” She glances at him and blinks as a hand comes up to

her face, but it’s only to brush aside some hair and to place the little flower delicately on one of her ears. “What- What are you doing?” “I saw a pretty flower, and thought it belonged to a pretty woman.” He gives her a charming smile, the chivalrous knight still trying to cheer her up. Then his hand comes down, placing it on top of hers. “You’re a very remarkable person, don’t feel too bad. Once you’re back on your feet, we can go back and really give it to him, what do you say?” A flush of dark purple blossoms on her cheeks from the sweet gesture. Her lips purse together as she glances down shyly, then looks off towards something unseen as she loses herself to her thoughts. Then, back to him. “Have you ever had sex on a ship?” Jiroki asks with no hesitation. Orinous is taken aback, not something he expected to hear so randomly! But he thinks for a moment, trying to recall his former career in the adult industries. “I once did a photoshoot on one, at the shore in Eversong.” He says. “It was some sort of parody off of pirates, harems and what not, big orgy. Er- why?” “Come on.” Jiroki moves to stand up, grasping hold of the staff. “We have a ship anchored over at Marshtide. We can take a rest in my office before heading back.” “Wait-” Now it’s Orinous time to blush, quickly scrambling up, even catching a second wind now that sex was the topic. “But- the mage is waiting for us!” “We got ‘tied up’ with the job, literally. He can wait, and I feel terrible at is. Just let me do something I’m decent at and I’ll feel better.” She takes hold of his hand, and starts to guide him down the path. Orinous is surprised by the sudden turn of events of the evening, but who is he to say no to a woman with a take-charge attitude? “Yes ma’am!” @daily-writing-challenge @orinous

#stories

[snapdragon-mina]

Enchanted Pt. 1

Kuroo Tetsurou x GN!Reader

A/N: UHHHHH, here's my late entry for ✨the newest✨ POCuties Sever Collab Based on the movie version of Ella Enchanted

Warnings: No beta we die like men, a couple swear words here and there, mentions of death, attempted murder, and this is a Crack fic treated seriously. Part 2 will be out within a few hours of this.

Word Count: 2.8k

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3]

----------------❌----------------

It all starts with a baby. A beautiful baby named (y/n) was born into a comfortable family. This baby cried a lot, wanting to be held by their mother constantly. She took good care of her baby alongside kiyoko, a household fairy. Everything worked out beautifully until a particular fairy godmother appeared. As desperately as the mother and kiyoko tried, they could not hide the baby from Satori (the only fairy godfather who gave god awful gifts).

As much as Satori tried to quiet the baby's crying, it would not stop. This gave him the perfect idea for a gift. He gave the child the "gift" of obedience. (y/n) would not be able to disobey a command given to them no matter what. Kiyoko absolutely hated the gift that Satori gifted the baby and begged him to take it back but he refused.

Despite the gift they were given, (y/n) grew up to be strong willed and determined. Once they discovered a girl being bullied for something as stupid as a name, they quickly took to standing up for her. The girl introduced herself as Yachi and they became best friends very quickly.

When (y/n) discovered the gift, they asked for Kiyoko to take it away, only to be told that she couldn't. But despite this, (y/n) always fought against the gift whenever they could.

When (y/n) was still a child, their mother grew very ill. As she laid in her bed, she told (y/n) to never reveal their gift to anyone. She didn't want her child to be taken advantage of. Before she passed away, she gave them her necklace to remember her by.

----💫----

Getting dressed, (y/n) put on their mother's necklace only to be interrupted by none other than Kiyoko. "(Y/n), your father wants to speak to you." She said before taking her leave.

(y/n) walked to their father's study only to receive shocking news.

"What?! You're married??"

"Look, she has money. It was either marry her or sell the house. She has two sons, so there's no doubt she's a wonderful mother-figure." He let out a sigh before continuing. "I'm sure you'll all be the best of friends, just... give them all a chance."

The next morning, three people arrived in a carriage. They were *not* pleased at the sight of the house.

(y/n)'s father greeted the three with a warm smile and two kisses to the woman's cheeks. "Welcome, my dear. These must be your sons?"

She nodded with a fake smile. "Yes, this is my dear Tooru, and my... other son, Tobio." The brunette just stared while the black haired one did an exaggerated bow. Just as this occurred, (y/n) walks out of the house to meet the three new people who were supposedly living with them now.

"You must be (y/n)." The woman said, giving them a once over. (y/n) bowed and greeted them with a polite "pleased to meet you."

After a short, awkward pause, the woman returned her attention to the father. "You have a wonderful home, but I recall you saying that you had a castle." she hissed out.

He shook his head. "No no, you must be mistaken, I said "A man's home is his castle"."

While their father and the lady talked, (y/n) introduced themselves with a smile only to be almost completely ignored.

Inside the house, the two brothers began setting up. Tooru putting up posters of a prince while Tobio explained.

"Tooru's president of Prince Tetsu's fan club." They grinned at each other only for their faces to fall into a scowl when (y/n) spoke.

"You must be aware that Tetsurou and his uncle are responsible for the segregation of the kingdom, right?"

With a judging look, Tooru spoke. "so? He's hot."

After looking around a bit the two were getting increasingly displeased with their surroundings. A small room, damn near nonexistent closet space, etc. "This won't work." The brunette spoke in a clearly disgusted tone. "We'll use yours. Show it to us."

Unable to disobey the command, (y/n) led them towards their room. Tooru narrowed his eyes and seemed to file that bit of information for later. Upon reaching the room, He was immediately disgusted. "It looks awful. There isn't any room here either. We're throwing out some of your clothes."

"what?! No. Get out of my closet." They went to attempt to force him away only for him to immediately demand that you get away from him.

As they backed up, He noticed the necklace and demanded that it be given to him. Unfortunately, (y/n) was forced to hand over the necklace.

Not a moment later, (y/n)'s father announced his business trip. They needed money and his work was the only thing keeping them afloat.

----💫----

During a heated debate in class is when Tooru figured it out. They'd been debating on whether king Kei had been a fair ruler or not. (y/n) was vehemently arguing in favor that he was not. He'd enslaved every other race and forced them to work in little stereotyped boxes. He'd made laborers and entertainers out of anyone non human. (y/n) *hated* it.

Tooru, on the other hand, thought that he was a wonderful ruler. He gave us free enterprises, humans don't have to work hard at things that *they* should be doing. They disagreed and when (y/n) insulted the prince. Tooru demanded that they apologize and admit they're wrong and when (y/n) did, it all clicked. (Y/n) couldn't obey a single command they were given.

----⭐----

"Do I really have to go to this mall opening?" Tetsurou asked his uncle as they sat inaide of an extremely expensive looking carriage.

"As heir to the throne, it's your responsibility. You're a public figure. You have to be seen." Kei told him simply.

"Yeah but you're the one in charge."

"Not for long. Your coronation is next week and you need to be out there with your people, Tetsu."

Seated next to Kei was Tadashi, who was something like Kei's closest companion. You would rarely ever see Kei without Tadashi.

Kei advised Tetsurou that keeping a good public image builds trust within a kingdom before telling him of the things that where apparently going on within the kingdom.

Of giants and ogres wanting to rebel against them and take them down but none of this sounded right to him.

"The giants have always been peaceful." Tetsurou said, confused as to why he was being told otherwise.

"The ogres were once peaceful as well. Until they killed your father in cold blood." His voice held a certain edge to it. "Before your father's gruesome death, I promised him that if anything happened to him, I would take care of you and the kingdom." Pushing up his glasses, a glare formed on the glass, shielding his eyes from view. "I have kept my promise, haven't I?"

Tetsurou remained silent for the rest of the ride, turning to face the window instead of his uncle.

----💫----

(Y/n) sat in the crowd next to Yachi, surrounded by hundreds of adoring fans of the prince as king Kei made an announcement.

"Thank you. It's wonderful to be in your... charming town of... Frell. Prince Tetsurou and I-" He was immediately cut off by the sounds of hundreds of people screaming at the mere mention of the prince's name. Kei decided to get the announcement done and over with. "And now it's with great pleasure that I introduce Prince Tetsurou."

Screams broke out again as the prince stepped into view. He waved as he walked out.

This was their cue.

Immediately, (y/n) and Yachi stood up on a fountain holding banners that read Say No To Ogrecide! and Stop Giant Land Grab!. The began chanting these words at the prince, catching his attention.

Tooru did not like this. He immediately ran over to the two protesting. "You're embarrassing us!" he hissed. "Go Home. Now."

Immediately, (y/n) began apologizing to Yachi as they left her there.

----⭐----

"Prince Tetsu, are you a fast runner?" A girl in the front asked him. He shook his head with a smile.

"Not really, why?" He immediately regretted those words. Because as soon as they left his mouth, the crowd charged at him; forcing him to flee.

He ran as quickly as he could until he ran into someone walking down a pathway. Quickly, he pulled them down and behind a stone wall.

"Prince Tetsurou."

"Please, call me Tetsu..." He trailed off, looking at the person he had just pulled down. "Sorry about that." He attempted to help them up, only to immediately be shot down.

"I don't need your chivalry and I definitely don't intend on bowing to you, either." They dusted themselves off and began walking away.

"Bow or not, that's your choice. Can't really do much about that other than have you beheaded, but that's a bit too much" he joked.

"Charming. Why don't you do what your people usually do? Steal my land and destroy my livelihood. Now if you'll excuse me." They continued walking away only to be forcefully stopped by him commanding them to wait and come back.

Groaning, (y/n) turned around and walked back to him, standing directly in front of him.

"What's your name?" he asked.

"(Y/n) of Frell."

"(Y/n)... You're one of the first people I've met that hasn't immediately melted at the sight of me." He sounded astonished.

"It might've done you some good." They rolled their eyes and went to turn around and leave again.

Tetsurou paused and looked offended. "Wait, I've never stolen anyone's land nor their livelihood. I want peace in the kingdom as much as anyone."

(y/n) turned around with a scowl on their face. "So you have a new plan once you take the crown?"

"Well... Sorta... I can't reveal it though."

They scoffed in his face. "Yeah, thought so. Y'know you're all the same. You care more about your fancy club and next jousting tournament."

"I- well I've never been comfortable with having a fanclub. In fact... Your obvious hatred of me is kinda refreshing." He grinned.

"Obvious? I was trying so hard to hide it." They rolled their eyes and continued on their walk home. As they were walking they suddenly remembered leaving their bag. Any attempt to go retrieve it was immediately stopped by a simple "wait right there."

They were stuck in place as Tetsu rushed back to get it. Unfortunately, a carriage was rushing towards them. They called out his name but was only saved as they were inches away from getting hit.

"Are you insane?! Why didn't you move?" Tetsurou asked.

"Yeah... I would've... were it not for your apparent fascination with knocking me to the ground." They sat up. "This is the second time today."

"Yeah well I'll try to be more considerate next time you're about to get ran over."

"What makes you think we'll see each other again?" They raised an eyebrow.

"Won't we?" he asked.

"Nope."

Before much else could be said, Tooru stood in the middle of the path, seething. "Get over here."

Immediately, (y/n) got up and walked over.

"Shouldn't you be at home cleaning the fireplace?" Tooru let out a forced laugh before whispering to them. "Stop flirting. I'm going to be at his coronation."

"Yeah in the center of the table with an apple in your mouth." They muttered in response.

"Go back to the mall with Tobio."

(y/n) stormed off with Tobio in tow as Tooru stayed back to try to flirt with his royal highness.

----💫----

At the mall, (y/n) met back up with Yachi. "Where were you?" the girl asked. (y/n) explained their meeting with the prince and went on to say that Tobio and Tooru were there.

"Why do you always do what Tooru tells you to?" She asked.

"No I don't."

"Yes you do."

"No I don't."

"Tell the truth."

"Guess I do..."

A moment later the two were spotted by Tobio and Tooru. "(Y/n). take that for me." Tooru asked, pointing towards something on a stand. The moment they took it, something lit up in Tobio's eyes. It quickly devolved into demanding them to steal various items against their will until they got caught taking a pair of glass slippers.

It resulted in (y/n) getting chased throughout the mall by a guard.

----💫----

The moment their new step mother learned that (y/n) had been arrested for theft, she flew into exaggerated hysterics. "A felon in my own home!" she cried.

Kiyoko immediately came to their defense. "They were probably put up to it. The (y/n) I know, would never do this." She glared at the brothers. However, as Tooru looked out the window, He got an idea.

"Kiyoko's right, we were there. They were forced to and it isn't poor (y/n)'s fault at all." He sighed to his mother, leaving (y/n) and kiyoko confused.

"So, Who put you up to it?" The woman demanded as she looked away.

A devious smirk graced Tooru's face. "Tell her it was Yachi." He whispered.

"Y-" They quickly covered their mouth but that wasn't enough. "Yachi."

Kiyoko closed her eyes and let out a sigh. The woman immediately forbade (y/n) from ever speaking to them again.

It was then that Yachi approached the door with the intent to ask (y/n) about what had happened at the mall. (y/n) was forced to answer the door and tell their best and only friend that they never want to see her again.

Later that day, (y/n) cried to Kiyoko about how awful the experience was until they came to the conclusion that they absolutely had to find the fairy that cursed them and Kiyoko offered something that would help them.

She held a book in her hands and present it to to them.

"I'm not... The most talented fairy... But this book is my boyfriend, Ryuu..."

The book was a light pink and gold with a magic mirror in the center. It showed a face in it and the moment he was revealed, he greeted (y/n).

"I've never seen anyone like it."

"Well, It was an accident. I wanted to practice a spell that would trim his hair since it had grown out, but it... didn't go well. So now he's in a book." Kiyoko explained.

Kiyoko allowed (y/n) to take Ryuu along with them on their journey.

----💫----

They walked through a forest, holding Ryuu in their hands when they heard screams. An elf was stuck to a spinning wheel as a couple of people threw darts at him. The elf told them to kick their asses and they did just that.

He began commentating as they fought off the guys and eventually, they won the fight with the men retreating.

Immediately (y/n) helped the elf down and checked on them quickly. Fortunately, the elf was completely uninjured.

"I'm Shoyo!"

"I'm (y/n). Nice to meet you. Now if you're okay, it was nice to meet you but I have to leave."

That didn't sit well with Shoyo. He immediately began arguing and trying to convince them to eat with him until he succeeded. Convinced that (y/n) wouldn't make it through the woods alone.

Eventually they made it to a bar in an Shoyo's home town with only a minor distraction.

Inside of the bar, they both sat down to eat and so (y/n) decided to ask a question. "Why don't you like music?"

"Right because all Elves are supposed to love singing and dancing. I wanna be an athlete, not an singer or dancer."

(Y/n) nodded sympathetically. "Yeah I understand that. I'd forgotten all about the laws that restrict elves from being anything other than singers and other occupations like that."

----💫----

After convincing Shoyo to come with them, (y/n) walked alongside him calmly until they were caught up with a couple of ogres. (y/n) tried to convince the ogres that that they were on their side only for that to backfire horribly and end up with them being steadily lowered into a pot with Shoyo tied to a tree.

Extremely conveniently, Prince Tetsurou found them and fought off the ogres, freeing (y/n) and Shoyo. He backed one of them against a tree with a sword pointed at the ogre's neck. "Are you one of the monsters that killed my father?"

The ogre looked confused. "What? No no, you've got it all wrong. King Koutarou was a good man! We lived in peace during his reign, why would we ever want to kill him?"

Tetsurou pulled the sword away from the ogre but didn't seem to believe his words. "Leave. Find breakfast somewhere else."

The ogres agreed and quickly left the area. Tetsurou turned towards (y/n). "What are you doing here w with an elf for protection? Do you get off to near death experiences or something?"

"No. I had things under control." They lied.

"Yeah, sure you did. I see the score stands Chivalry: 2, Gratitude: 0." He said, back facing them.

They apologized and thanked him for the help before cleaning dressing a wound he'd gotten from protecting them.

"So... Where are you heading?"

"A giant's wedding. I have to meet my godfather."

"That's on the way back to me home, I'll come with."

"No thanks."

"Too bad."

#anime x reader #haikyuu!! #haikyuu x gn reader #haikyuu x male reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x female reader #haikyū!! #haikyu x reader #kuroo testuro #kuroo fluff #haikyuu kuroo #kuroo x you #kuroo tetsuro fluff #kuroo tetsurou #ella enchanted #movie au #haikyuu royal au #oikawa tooru #kageyama tobio #hinata shouyou #haikyuu kiyoko #tanaka ryunosuke #satori tendou #kei tsukishima #tsukki #yamaguchi tadashi #fantasy #fantasy au #pocuties server collab #pocuties movie collab

[pollylynn]

Title: Side Quest WC: 800 Episode: Home is Where the Heart Stops (1 x 07)

When it comes to ogres and Kate Beckett, an onion is actually the perfect metaphor. So it figures that she’s the one to come up with it. Perfection is the name of her game, and it bothers her not a bit that literary things like exceptionally apt metaphors are in his ballpark, not hers. He’ll let it slide this time, though, because she’s made a mistake in serving up that particular device. She’s embedded it in a question she intends to be rhetorical. 

However will you peel them all? 

It’s rare error of style on her part, and one that he is eminently qualified turn into a teachable moment. He’s prepared to take it quite literally. He is prepared to take it as an invitation. That’s all well and good, except he doesn’t exactly have an answer for her unanswerable question. How will he peel those layers?

His approach to date has been somewhat scattershot. The trouble is, he keeps getting distracted. Or not distracted. That’s not the right word, and he sometimes wonders if she is some kind of articulate succubus. She’s dropping  words like hyperbolic into casual conversation every second, and he suddenly doesn’t know the plural of safe. He suddenly doesn’t know the word for what it is that is compromising his peeling technique. 

He keeps getting interested. That’s closer to the right word and it’s sort of alarming that this is the case. He’s interested in what she reads and how it is that she came to have a reverse-double-jinx game that is very much on point. The fact that she tosses off references to stock characters  from sixteenth-century commedia dell'arte  makes him suspect that she could instantly restore his sanity by telling him where that damned Anais Nin quote is from, and he’s equally confident that she knows all the words—and quite possibly the fairy godmother dance moves—to “Bibbidi-Bobbidi-Boo.” 

These and the thousand other tidbits he has learned about her over this last month and change are interesting, no question.  But is knowing that she only likes the Hardy Boys on paper rreally moving him forward when it comes to the urgent business of peeling? Probably not. He may actually be in peeling retrograde, because he’s distracting her. 

Everything about this case is getting to her, from Joanne Delgado’s fury to Evan Mitchell’s pathetic cheap shots. He understands the former: The daughter who could not save her mother—who absolutely could not have saved her even if she hadn’t been too busy to come over and bake. He understands why and how that resonates with her own loss. But the table slamming into Evan Mitchell’s ribs shocks him. That is not just her rising to the scumbag’s cut-rate bait. It’s a testament to the fact that she needs this one badly. 

That, it pains him to say, is good for business. Her being on the ropes, being so consumed by rage that she literally can’t see well enough to shoot as straight as he knows she can is just the kind of thing that ought to get the peeling party started. He ought to be rubbing his hands with glee in anticipation of the  peek this will surely give him into whether or not she was close with her mother.  He should be coming in hot and turning her questions for Joanne right back around on her. Has she long suspected some shady friend who entered her mother’s orbit near the end of her life? How does she make the call whether or not to reveal-without-revealing to her victims’ families that her sympathy runs wide and deep and true?

 It pains him to say that professionally speaking he should be shining an eager light on every single thing this one is unearthing for her, but that’s not what he’s doing. He’s distracting her instead. 

He’s playing dumb at the shooting range and bringing jewel thieves to closed crime scenes. He is siphoning off all that fury and redirecting it toward himself with his casual not yet . . . to Anne Greene, and his—actually sincere, come to think of it—assertion that what Detective Beckett needs right now is a night on the town. He is boldly driving her mad with the mystery of how he knew her dress size and what it is that he’s said about her to “Bob.” 

He is risking life and limb as he peppers her with guesses about where the badge was, because peeling can wait until she’s made good on her promise to Joanne Delgado and this case is no longer eating her alive. He is and will be the dancing bear and the rodeo clown, because far beyond his determination to peel them all, he is interested in her.  

A/N: This is also without form, but he absolutely wants to stay up all night braiding one another’s hair and watching French New Wave films. 

images via homeofthenutty

#Castle #Caskett #Castle: Season 1 #Castle: Home is Where the Heart Stops #Kate Beckett #Richard Castle #Johanna Beckett #Fic #Fanfic #Fanfiction #Fan Fic #Fan Fiction #Writing #Tell Me More

[pauldron-pieces]

Rumon 'Crushjaw' Thaerskaine's Backstory: Rearmed

Fandom: Dungeons And Dragons (5E)

Pairing: N/A, Crushjaw-centric

Rating: Holy shit M.

AN: This is a hypothetical scenario featuring original characters in a world created by my Dungeon Master. As usual, this is non-canon and I own nothing aside from intellectual properties specifically attached to Crushjaw. This installment is mechanically unsound in a multitude of ways and ignores certain important lore facets. Trigger warnings are listed inside. Enjoy!

Taglist: @sporadic-fics and @cookiethewriter!

Inspired By: Black Hill: Low Force

[Crushjaw is a level zero barbarian, and his appearance can be found here.]

[!TRIGGER WARNING!: This installment contains multiple triggering scenes including semi-graphic depictions of gore and mentions of bile/vomit. Reader discretion is advised. Stay safe!]

He would have loved to claim he had been goaded into it. Would have loved to say that it wasn't his fault or explain that it hadn't happened like he remembered. Except Rumon knew all too well that responsibility didn't work like that. His memory may be faulty, but the proof was in Krae's testimony.

Himself and his childhood friend Krae had both been interested in the same individual from a neighboring clan, the two of them butting heads over the object of their affections more than once. So of course when Krae came to him with news of an enormous ogre that had set up its stomping grounds near one of their trade routes, Rumon fairly leaped at the opportunity to fight the beast and claim victory over it. After all, what better way to prove his worth and earn a name from the clan leader than with an act of heroism?

Krae naturally came along, saying that he feared the ogre may be too tall an order for even Rumon to handle. This just made Rumon all the more determined to manage the creature single handedly.

They set up camp near where Krae claimed to have spotted the beast, the two goliaths joking and swapping drinks from a canteen of strong spirits. Truly, until both of them had set their sights on the same person, they had been brothers in all but blood. Rumon still regarded Krae as such, trusting to a fault, and thusly he missed the shifty glances the older goliath kept aiming at the treeline while the sun set.

"Come, Rumon! The moon is high. With its light, surely we shall find the ogre." Krae had cajoled after Rumon was fairly drunk, "unless, of course, you are afraid of a night hunt?"

"I fear nothing!" Rumon had boasted, "the gods are with me this night. You shall witness my triumph, Krae!"

Bold words. His grandmatron had always said that pride went before a fall.

Rumon recalled very little of the hunt after that, his memory muddied with drink. Despite Krae's insistence that the moonlight was sufficient, Rumon's recollections were oddly dim. He vaguely remembered stumbling around beneath the thick spruce canopy, his warhammer clumsy in his hands.

He remembered swinging with all his might and striking something that gave under the assault, the liquor Krae had plied him with steeling his ringing blows to something that rivaled even Varandur's mountain shapers.

He remembered when the weight of his weapon suddenly vanished, and there was a rancid gust of seethingly-hot air that blew his hair to the side. The roar was strange to his ear, far-off and faded. Emptiness rang too loud for him to hear as he wondered where his weapon had gone.

Rumon remembered realizing that he was flat on his stomach on the ground.

Where the memory became razor-sharp once more was when he tried to push himself up onto his elbows, and found his body woefully unbalanced. The goliath searched for the source of the problem and quickly located it, the sight of what was left of his mangled right arm more than enough to jerk him back to stark sobriety.

It had been severed at the elbow, though the term was a bit too kind for the injury. The appendage looked more as though it had been crushed with something that might have had an edge at one point.

Rumon had raised his eyes, mind grinding to a halt when he spotted his warhammer several yards away with his right hand still gripping the haft. Past that, along a trail marked by shattered tree trunks, slumped an enormous ogre clutching a slab of a sword. It seemed closer to a chunk of masonry than a true weapon, and Rumon's stomach had churned as he realized what had happened.

Mercifully, the agony had struck him and he promptly vomited before losing consciousness.

×+×

Gods only knew how long he had slept after that. It was a miracle he had even made it back to their healer; apparently Krae had all but carried him home. The embarrassment from that instance alone would have been enough to kill Rumon, never mind the fact that his dominant arm was now nothing but a bandaged stump.

The grandmatron would have none of it though, her craggy face somehow even more stern when Rumon managed to finally rouse himself.

"You have been named Crushjaw, little pebble. A worthy title." Her tone was icy. "I have gone through much trouble to save you. I am indebted to our chieftain."

Crushjaw. Rumon's face fairly burned with shame. "The ogre-?"

"Krae slew the beast. He brought one of its tusks back as proof. The chieftain was quite flattered by his offering, praising Krae for his accomplishment and naming him Tuskclaimer. As for his name for you..." The matron bowed her head, her expression one of grief.

"Grandma…"

"Don't you grandma me, little pebble!" The elderly goliath erupted, glaring fiercely at Rumon. Her eyes filled with tears as she went on, "you are anathema now, dear Rumon. Once you are able to walk, the clan leader has declared that you are to leave. I am no longer your grandmother. This place is no longer your home."

"'Leave'?" Rumon repeated stupidly. It felt as though everything was crashing down around him, his mind racing to comprehend. Their clan hadn't had an expulsion in his entire lifetime, wariness and confidence found too equally amongst their ranks. Compounding his confusion was the claim that Krae had killed the ogre. Rumon had been certain... "I understand." He said finally. "I am unworthy of your kindness. Thank you."

He couldn't comprehend why his grandmother wept harder at his acceptance. This was the way it had always been.

×+×

Crushjaw.

It certainly felt as though he was being crushed to death. Loneliness was a miserable traveling companion.

Rumon, very nearly unable to fend for himself, resorted to setting small game snares in the uncharted wilds. It was a child's way of hunting, but he was too hungry to be bothered by the prick to his already-bruised pride.

The few people he did encounter seemed overly wary of him. After all, a one-armed, exiled goliath would be the type to resort to petty theft.

But he wasn't a threat. He had never been a threat before, aside from just being large. Rumon couldn't understand the sudden shift in demeanor; he couldn't possibly fathom the air of desperation that his injury gave off.

It began to get easier when the weather cooled, the bulk of the thick cloak from his grandmother concealing his missing arm. The wound had not healed prettily, but Rumon knew better than to look a gift horse in the mouth. He hadn't died. That was all he could hope for.

He wandered alone for most of the cold times, his only companions the booming pines that fractured from the weight of the ice and snow. His thoughts had a habit of straying to Krae, and he wondered what had truly transpired that evening more than he would care to admit. Had he imagined killing the ogre? Was his mind that addled by the strength of the drink they had shared?

Surely Krae wouldn't have lied. Nothing good ever came of lying or taking the credit for someone else's accomplishments. Rumon eventually settled on the assumption that his memory must have been faulty.

After that, the whole world seemed a gray and unforgiving place, and the goliath could feel himself fading into something of the same type. Something ragged and harsh, no longer a proud warrior but a lamed animal with a crushed jaw.

That is, until the day he encountered an old elf hanging by the leg from his horse's saddle.

"You there!" The elven man shouted once he seemed to notice the large individual sauntering up through the trunks of barren maples. "Don't suppose you'd be able to lend me a hand?"

Rumon, for whatever reason, found himself throwing his mantle back over his shoulder to reveal the stump of his arm. "Good thing you only need one hand, sirrah. It's all I have to offer." He remarked.

The elf nearly died of laughter, already beet-red in the face from being stuck hanging upside down for so long. To Rumon's shock however, when he circled around the horse to help the elf dislodge himself, he realized that the leg that wasn't caught in the stirrups was severed at the knee. The fellow's pant leg was neatly pinned at the joint, padding sewn into the area as if to mimic a kneecap.

Before Rumon could say anything though, the wiry elf explained, "I lost my leg a few miles back, and this damned animal dragged me along until she got bored. Don't suppose you can accompany me a little ways until I relocate it? Thing is worth its weight in gold."

The goliath easily hefted the older fellow into the saddle before his words caught up with him. "You...lost your leg?" Rumon blinked, his brow furrowed in confusion. "I was unaware that elves could regrow limbs."

The elf looked at him a little sideways, muttering something about still waters running deep before he just shook his head and laughed, "no son, it's a genuine Chuck original. A fake leg."

A fake leg. Rumon seized the horse's bridle, desperation giving his voice a new level of gravel as he begged for more information. The elf shrewdly bargained with him: in exchange for help in reclaiming his prosthetic, he would gladly share what information he had.

"My name is Shawell." The elf introduced himself. "And you are…?"

Rumon hesitated for a moment. "Crushjaw." If people were to know his name, they would serve as a reminder of his foolhardy pride. A constant warning to heed in the future.

"Pleasure to meet you, Crush." Shawell tugged on the reins, turning his mare back in the direction he had come from. "We'd better hurry. We'll lose the daylight."

Crush. Rumon cracked his first smile in months, positioning himself on the elf's left side to steady him in the saddle.

#rumon 'crushjaw' thaerskaine #crushjaw #dungeons and dragons #dnd 5e #I play one type of character #the friend who can help #goliath character #dnd goliath #dnd character #he's going to love his friends A Lot #canon-typical violence #I can't wait for this #dnd barbarian #barbarian backstory

[jeebsy]

Titanfall 2 Titan Guide Part 3

I’m back again with Part 3 of my Titan Guide. This will be the final part and will focus on the Ogre Chassis Titans ‘Scorch’ and ‘Legion’.

This is a somewhat extensive overview of each Titan & how to use them against other players. Again I am not the best player out there but I’ve played enough and have a good understanding of each titan. Hopefully at least some of you will find this guide useful. See you on the frontier pilots!

Feel free to add your own tips or correct me if you think I’ve made a mistake.

Below the cut because this is long.

First I’ll say there is no be all end all way to play the titans. Most if not all titan kits are useful in certain situations and as such you should experiment with each to find what works for you. I’ll be giving my recommendations for kits and explaining my choices at the end of each titans segment.

I’ve split each Titan up into 6 sections, going over (in order):

"Titan Name:" Quick overview & what to learn first with that Titan to get good.

Using them Against Pilots

Using them Against Titans.

Their Core.

General Tips/Tricks

My recommended Titan Kit.

Scorch: Papa himself. If he gets close enough, he becomes an unstoppable monster! First thing to learn with him though, is when to engage & when to disengage. You can't always run at your enemies with fire shield & expect to kill them. So learning when to back off is critical, & should be the most important thing to learn. Aside from that, IF you do manage to catch up to your enemies, it's safe to say they are probably dead.

Against Pilots: Learn how to hit them with your 'Thermite Launcher'. This is crucial to learn because if you constantly miss with it, pilots will eat up your 'Thermal Shield' & slowly chip your beautiful 5 bars of health away. 'Thermal Shield' is effective against pilots who are too close though, & will slightly push them back. This does wonders to pilots foolish enough to try & jump on you from the front, as they can't get through your shield fast enough to hop on (Unless they're stims flying around at 100mph. Even then you're more than likely to kill them). A regular melee hit will kill them faster however, so don't completely neglect using your punches for your new best face-melting friend.

Against Titans: Scorch can kill almost the whole cast in a matter of seconds, & that's not paraphrasing. At range, use your 'Thermite Launcher' to slowly poke at enemy health bars & keep pressure on them. As you move in, use your 'Firewall' to control ground movement, & try blocking off escape routes from your opponent. 'Incendiary Traps' are effective at this as well. Use 'Heat Shield' to force your opponent in the direction you want them to go, as they will have no choice but to try & keep the space. Once you have your opponent where you want them, use an 'Incendiary Trap' at their feet & light that sucker with any of your abilities &/or 'Thermite Launcher'. Flame wall is also great when you are close, & will melt the health of an enemy Titan away + keep your hot boi safe from harm. Something else to note is that Scorchs abilities stack, so having 2 'Incendiary Traps' down on the same titan will deal the damage from both. Use this to great effect if you come upon an unsuspecting Titan/have the flank on your enemy. Again, he struggles at range & against speed, so Titans like Tone & Northstar are hard to get. Simply avoid their line of fire until you can corner them like the grunts they are.

'Flame Core' is a burst of big damage. Use it to destroy weakened enemies, as that will ensure you the kill. It does take some time to start up though, so keep that in mind. During the startup some opponents will see it coming & try to dash away. Watch for this, & adjust the core accordingly to hit them. Against Northstar, if you are already fighting her, try to bait out the 'VTOL Hover' with 'Incendiary Traps' below her feet, & once she lands, let it rip.

General Tips:

If you're doomed with core as Scorch and are afraid of dying before you can get the core off, you can activate core and begin ejecting. The core will go off during the ejection sequence and you will survive. You can do this with all titans with automatically firing cores, but it is particularly effective on him since the core is a single attack instead of sustained.

The only bug I'll highlight here: Flame Shield pierce. Hitscans can hit through Scorch's Flame Shield if they hit his feet (and randomly in some other spots, but whatever). Be careful of Ions, Monarchs and Legions that know about this, they will continue to chip away at your health as you advance.

Kit Recommendations:

Titan Kit: Turbo Engine

Scorch is so slow he NEEDS turbo engine to get around effectively.

Scorch Kit: Wildfire Launcher or Tempered Plating or Inferno Shield

Wildfire Launcher just gives bonus damage to your weapon.

Tempered Plating is great as it’s stops you from damaging yourself with your own thermite AND removes your crit spot. Making you overall tankier.

Inferno Shield’s damage boost and duration increase allows you to basically use your heat shield as a primary form of attack. This is my personal pick.

Titanfall Kit: Drop Shield

Only two choices for this and it’s more a preference thing. Drop Shield gives you a nice safety area to retreat to if you need it.

Legion: If Scorch is the unstoppable force, then Legion is the immovable object. Legion is designed to hold lanes & slowly tear the enemy apart piece by piece. His DPS is unmatched, & can easily tear apart an enemy titan in seconds. First thing to learn is when to switch firing modes. He has a short range mode, which isn't super accurate + has limited range BUT can destroy pilots & Titans close quarters & a long range mode which is designed to provide long range fire, at the cost of using up 2 bullets per shot. Because Legion has the slowest reload time of any titan in the game, it is important to learn which mode to use & when so you don't run out of bullets unnecessarily. 'Gun shield' is also very situational. Don't pop gun shield whenever you are taking damage, as you are forced to keep it up until it's ability timer is done. This seems handy dandy, but you can't melee, run &/or sprint anywhere, & you are slowed to a snails pace (You can still dash though). I will go into more detail below in the Titan section. I also recommend a higher sensitivity if you want to main Legion, due to his mobility preventing you from being able to create space fast enough to properly aim.

Against pilots: Legion is unstoppable... for the first few seconds. If you are in CQC mode, his 'Power Shot' will one shot any pilot in a large window & kill them instantly, making him very effective at killing pilots. However, unless you have the 'Hidden compartment' kit equipped, you only get one shot, do not miss your chance to blow, this opportunity only comes once until your ability recharges. 'Power shot' has two firing rates as well, one when you simply tap the ability, & one when you tap it & then press the fire button. The first one takes a second to activate, giving pilots the time to escape, where the second one is near instant. IF you miss your power shot, or there are multiple pilots attacking you, then you can either eliminate them with the CQC firing mode, or opt for the more accurate Long Range mode (Which in my opinion is far better to kill pilots with, due to the increased accuracy.) Avoid the gun shield against pilots unless you are being bombarded by many pilots. Although you will be protected from enemy fire, you can't melee until the gun shield is put away, making you an easy rodeo target for pilots. A gun shield + reloading Legion is a defenseless Legion.

Against Titans: Oh boy where to begin. IMO Legion is the most match up based titan in the game. You have to change your play style drastically depending on the opponent you're up against. First thing first, Unless your opponent is a medium-long range fighter, a medium-long distance in front of you & already looking at you, never start a fight with 'Gun Shield'. IF any of these 3 are not met, & I mean ANY, hold off on using gun shield. Against Monarch & Tone, AGGRESSIVE SUSTAINED COUNTER-FIRE is the best way to deal with them. Tone will try to set up a lock on you & have her 'Tracking Rockets' after you. Once her Missiles are under way, throw gun shield up & keep the pressure on her. If she drops her 'Particle Shield' outside of close range, then back off. Her shield can withstand a Long range 'Power Shot', & By the time you bring it down with all of your bullets, you will need to reload. Close the distance with her first before engaging, or wait out the 'Particle Shield'. Monarch is a baby Legion, & can't deal with her father giving her a spanking for being disrespectful & will have to run away. So try to hit her with a 'Power Shot' before she can escape to put on some damage. Ronin is annoying, as he will use your lack of mobility against you. Keep him at a distance. When he approaches, use your gun shield to block his arc wave & push him back with a power shot. That way, he can't stun you & stay out of your sights. Be careful of him Phasing through you as well & keep your eyes on him at all times. Ion is hard, but not impossible to beat. It requires patience, as you have to wait out the 'Vortex Shield' before being able to damage her. Once she runs out of juice, you have a small window in which to attack. Throw a quick power shot right before she runs out of energy & her shield drops in to do the most damage, & keep the pressure up while she recharges. But please, for the love of God, don't hold the firing button down while she has it up. She wants that & will abuse that. Patience is what wins this fight. Scorch is a nightmare though. At long range, you can do some damage but he will end up running away. Medium range is ok, as you can drain his shield & do damage while he either closes the gap or runs away. But close range, Scorch will eat you. Keep him away at all times, even if it means turning around & sprinting away. His 'Thermal Shield' will eat your power shot, preventing him from being knocked back, making running away your best option until you can 360 power shot him away when he doesn't expect it. NEVER PUT YOUR 'GUN SHIELD' UP AGAINST HIM! Take the damage from the 'Thermite Launcher' so you can keep your maneuverability. Slow targets are a breeze for him. Northstar is the easiest matchup for Legion. You can just melt her health bar away safely behind your 'Gun shield', & all you need to worry about is her 'Cluster Missile', which is a simple dash to safety. Just don't engage when she has cover to work with, catch her out in the open if you can, & catch her close if you can.

'Smart Core' is amazing. Nothing else really needed to be said. It instantly kills pilots, & gives you unlimited ammo, allowing AGGRESSIVE SUSTAINED COUNTER-FIRE until kingdom come. Just be weary of enemy Ions during this, whilst you will drain their Vortex Shield, they can redirect some of your bullets and can do some damage. Save it when against easier targets, & when there are plenty of smaller infantry to shoot.

General Tips: 

Flame Shield pierce. Hitscans can hit through Scorch's Flame Shield if they hit his feet (and randomly in some other spots, but whatever). If you are a Legion fighting a Scorch, a Powershot to the toes will keep the Scorch at a distance.

In Legion vs Scorch, it isn't a bad idea to use Gun Shield. T203 damage will add up if you don't, just don't activate it on reaction - getting caught in hugging distance of Scorch with Gun Shield out will hurt and you can't Flame Shield pierce when he's in your face.

Kit Recommendations:

Titan Kit: Turbo Engine.

Like Scorch, Legion is super slow so he NEEDS turbo engine to get around effectively.

Legion Kit: Hidden Compartment or Enhanced Ammo Capacity

Hidden Compartment is my personal pick. Although it does reduce power shots damage by 15%, it does give you a lot more versatility with a second shot.

Enhanced Ammo Capacity increases the amount of ammo you have in your predator cannon. This increases your damage output before needing to reload which is great as Legion has a pretty lengthy reload animation.

Titanfall Kit: Drop Shield.

Only two choices for this and it’s more a preference thing. Drop Shield gives you a nice safety area to retreat to if you need it.

#titanfall #titanfall titan guide #titanfall meta #ref #gaming

[lady-falcon]

Just want to share my old one-shot fic, pre-canon, slight Miiko/ Lance.

All about Miiko fighting her unrequited feelings.

He must never know

Being a young princess, Miiko hated the court culture. All court etiquette - mannered gestures, fake emotions and manipulations that replace real communication. It was easy to learn it, - the main thing was to put on a mask of impenetrable indifference. Because no one should read you like an open book. No one should know your true emotions and feelings. Otherwise, you are vulnerable. Otherwise, - you are weak.

Miiko leaves the Jade Kingdom and promises herself to free all her hidden feelings; to start finally live this life and feel all the shades of emotions. Delight - means delight, not a crumpled smile and a slightly bowed head. Anger means anger, not the lowered corners of the lips and slightly frowned eyebrows.

She allows herself to feel everything...

And then she meets him...

Lance is not the one who you could come across in the crowd and forget the next moment. High growth, a confident gait, a calm look – seems all in him was created to attract attention. Just a second of a side look is enough for Miiko to mention him among the crowd of the Guard’s newcomers in the HQ hall. Something immediately clicks in the kitsune’s head, starts a run of sparkles throughout her body, as if Lance’s image had been printed from birth somewhere in the depths of her consciousness, and now appeared in flesh and blood. Otherwise, how to explain that his features seem so familiar, so dear and beloved at a glance?

Miiko does not remember what happened next. Maybe she's just froze in the middle of the main hall, not taking her eyes off Lance? She remembers only a light intoxicating dizziness; she remembers how her chest filled with sweet pain; how everything inside her soul exploded and blossomed. She found herself wanting to do something immediately ... something ... something - it doesn’t matter what, - to run. To fly. To dance.

But Miiko does nothing but stares at Lance, and he, feeling the weight of someone's gaze, turns his head. Blood rushes to Miiko's face, and she freezes breathless.

But he only glides over the kitsune with an indifferent look, not even distinguishing her from the interior details, from all the crowd of scurrying guardians. And at the same moment, Miiko realizes that the feelings flared up in her chest are a direct road to the Calvary. Her feelings will make her defenseless before his indifference. And if she let herself feels this way, she will be like a bird pushed on a stone wall - left in pieces and puddles.. And therefore ...

He must never know...

They have to communicate. Of course purely on business: reports, available missions. But still they have to communicate, yet Miiko would prefer never speak to him. Only to watch him from afar; to enjoy him as a piece of art, as something unreal and unreachable ... Actually, there is no difference. You have no right to even touch an art exhibit, just as you have no right to approach someone who does not want it. And Lance doesn't make a single hint that he wants. Even the that he simply doesn't mind. Therefore, every day Miiko is more and more afraid to reveal her feelings with a single look or a sudden careless word.

All court tricks float in her memory, learned movements and phrases replace the natural and spontaneous. Alive and real with others, next to Lance Miiko is a mixture of impenetrable armor and ice. She always says little, speaks matter-of-fact. Probably, Lance considers her arrogant or a stupid girl who becomes conceited, barely received the role of Younuki's right hand. So it be. Let him believe that she is arrogant and conceited, - anything! Because the truth ...

He must never know.

* * *

It's hot in the yard. Stuffy. But noone cancel the trainings. Miiko removes the damp hair from her forehead and joins the crowd of unfortunate comrades who look at Jamon with mournful eyes, begging for a break. The ogre growls something, but still gives a respite. Five minutes.

Newcomers go to the benches where they had thrown their stuff. Miiko fishes out a flask of water from her bag, but does not even have time to take a sip, as she sees Lance approaching the inner yard. She really thought that it could not get any hotter anymore.

In vain.

“The Oracle is just checking strength of your soul,” she tells herself, going to the farthest bench.

“You're too sour for someone who has won five sparrings in a row,” tells her Lina - a pretty brownie from the Light Guard.

“I'm just focused,” answers Miiko, not even looking toward the reasons for her bad mood.

"What are you girls whispering about?", Celine, dryad from the Shadow Guard, joins their conversation. “You are discussing guys, aren't you?”

"Nothing of the kind!", Miiko flashes instantly. “There's noone to discuss ...” she declares, before anyone has time to think that a serious kitsune like her can basically think of some guy. Not in this life! Miiko demonstratively shows that she is above such thoughts; that in her life she is only interested in three things: study, trainings, the Guard. And that’s all.

"Well, but at least do you like someone?", Celine asks with enthusiasm.

“No,” kitsune shrugs. "Nobody". Her answer is final, not subject to appeal. Miiko is learning this tone in order become a good leader one day. And now this skill is very useful.

The trainings resumes. Miiko begins to lose, because she spends all her will and all her concentration to avoid watching at Lance who stands relaxed near Jamon, and tells ogre some comments. She doesn’t sure what would hit her more — seeing Lance watching her, or seeing him looking at another girl with interest? She is afraid to lose control and to end up the trainings sobbing hopelessly. And her feelings will be revealed.

But he must never know.

“Lance is probably the prettiest of all the guys here,” Lina continues the theme, shoving Miiko with her elbow when the training ends and everyone slowly leaves the yard.

‘You say he is just "pretty"?!’ Miiko wants to exclaim. But instead, she takes a deep breath and responds with restraint.

“Not at all,” kitsune says with an ostentatious indifference, that make her teeth shake. "I see nothing special in him. He's too ... rustic. His voice is sharp. He is not well-educated and rude". She is ready to list all his flaws for hours. The flaws which she so diligently has sought in him to reduce the degree of her feelings... But each time she found his new flaw, she falls in love with Lance even more.

The girls nod and admit that in some way Miiko is right, of course ... But she is too picky and actually she needs to set the bar lower if she doesn't want to stay alone for the rest of her life. And then they continue chatting, no longer involving kitsune in their conversation. Miiko sighs with relief. She understands she need to be silent so as not to reveal her true attitude.

But Miiko can’t avoid talks at all. And she begins to deliberately speak badly about Lance. Probably some rumors reach him, but she doesn’t care. The main thing is that in no case should he think she likes him. Let him consider her arrogant and gossip, than let him even suspect something ... Something he simply must never know.

* * *

Miiko loves how it's quiet and sunny in the library. Today she parses the Guard reports again while Lina is in the infirmary. Miiko does not mind to do some extra duties, and the abundance of work does not scare her. Working along in the library helps her to relax and focus.

Miiko almost finishes sorting out the reports when a perky laugh comes from the corridor. Kitsune recognizes the Guards' gunsmith Seddok's by this crazy gaggle. But should he really be at headquarters now? She glanced at the missions chart. Well, Seddok really went on a mission today, - the holy Oracle! - together with…

"Stop laughing already!", says a harsh voice, which Miiko will not confuse with anyone's other. “Or I will push your weapon into your throat!”

But laugh only becomes louder, and after a couple of seconds, Seddock bursts into the library, bent over in half by laughter.

"What's the matter?", Miiko asks immediately.

“We've been on a mission in the eastern forest,” - the gunsmith manages to calm down for a moment and answer, - “and Lance fell into Sitourche's nest.”

Miiko raises her eyebrows in a surprise, as if asking: “So what?”, But then Lance enters the door and she understands ‘what’.

Newborn Sitourches - little furry lumps - climbed onto the shoulders and back of the obsidian. They could be mistaken for bizarre epaulettes, if not their tiny eyes looking like black beads staring at the world from under the azure fur.

"Damn! Let go... you...!", Lance sighs desperately. Miiko understands that all the way to headquarters, he apparently tried to throw Sitourche kids off himself, but those little furry lumps only squeal, and quickly climbed back, clutching the obsidian's clothes with tiny claws.

"Do not even try!", Seddock says through a new attack of laughter, - “For the first month Sitourches live on their mother's body until they get stronger and learn how to get their own food.”

“You say they consider me ...”, Lance changes countenance, barely realizing what he managed to get involved into. “What the hell?! I'm not their mother!”, he shakes his hands with all his might one again, but little Sitourches only cling to him even tighter.

“Well, it was your snout they saw when they had barely hatched. So technically - yes, you are", - Seddok laughs away again, and Lance whether growls through his teeth, or exhales with displeasure.

Miiko holds out the gunsmith a report form, and furtively glancing at Lance, notices that as soon as Seddok is leaning over the paper, the obsidian smiles slightly and gently runs a finger along the fur of one Sitourche. Miiko bites the inner side of her cheek, afraid not just to start laughing - even to smile accidently! - and hands Lance his report form.

Having scribbled something indistinct, Seddok throws completed report form at Miiko's working table.

“That's it!”, he says happily marching to the door. "I'm going for dinner".

"Hey!", Lance shouts after him, looking up from the report and turning to the door. “Reserve a turn for me. I'll finish this quickly", he returns to the report, removing a Sitourche from his wrist.

“Don’t worry”, Seddock stops at the door and grins quite a bit. “A father with many children they will feed out of turn!”, he says, and still laughing, runs downstairs.

Miiko leans over the papers, pretends that she sorts it concentrated. But, hiding her eyes behind the bang that fell on her face, she continues watching Lance. How he squeezes the pen. How stand out burgundy abrasions on the knuckles of his neat fingers. How focused is his look. How he takes away a strand of hair that has fallen on his eyes. How he grins barely noticeably when Sitourches climb up his shoulders touching his skin with tiny claws and apparently tickling.

Miiko's heart breaks out, from how incredibly cute he is at that moment along with these fluffy lumps sitting on his shoulders. He looks so homely... so cozy. She wishes she could be with him not in a stuffy library for a report, but somewhere far from all HQ bustle, on a stack of mowed grass ... Carefully pressing her lips to his cheek. Running her hands over his shoulders and back, sometimes deliberately touching his skin with her nails, causing the same half-smiles on his lips.

Involuntarily Miiko allows a dreamy smile to linger on her lips for a second... And this ghostly smile is instantly caught by his tenacious gaze, which suddenly jumps out from behind the pages of the report, like an ambush predator. Squinting blue eyes catch her face.

"You think it’s funny?", Lance asks bending his thin eyebrow. Instantly Miiko pulls herself together.

“Not at all”, she says sternly, folding the parchments on the table in a neat pile. “You destroyed Sitourches' nest. Damaged the forest ecosystem! Now the Guards will have to send someone to mitigate the damage to El’s nature”, Miko says in a sharp voice, still not looking into Lance' eyes.

Lance doesn’t answer her anything, just bends over his report form again, apparently wanting to finish it as soon as possible. A lock of hair falls on his face. Miiko furtively bites her lips. Her hands are shaking with the desire to tuck a knocked ash-white strand behind his ear. But she can’t. It is impossible.

Lance gives her the form with a mixture of annoyance and displeasure. Let it be. The main thing is that she did not reveal herself, although she was in the balance! After all ... He must never know.

Suddenly, even for herself, Miiko begins to reprimand Lance for every little thing. Here he ticked the form in the wrong place; there, he said something wrong and in the wrong way. She is sure that is right. For no one guess her true feelings, she has to demonstrate the opposite ones... Or is she lying to herself? Or she needs this all just to get one more moment alone with him in the library silence? To feel herself in the center of his attention for those few seconds that she comments on his reports?

Once again, kitsune asks the obsidian to go upstairs.

“You mixed everything up again,” Miiko says. "You didn’t indicate the exact coordinates of your mission and set the date in the wrong column. Sorry, but I can’t accept this report".

With a sharp and hostile exhale, Lance snatches the form from her hands.

"What have I done to you?", he asks squinting.

“N-nothing,” says Miiko, scared. She can’t even understand what scared her more - how sharply the form flew out of her hands, his angry look, or... his question asked in the way like he is starting to suspect something. To suspect what he must never know.

And Lance clings to her fright, since this is the only living emotion seen on her face for all the years of their acquaintance.

“Then why the hell are you always nitpicking to me?!” he takes a menacing step forward, the annoyance in his voice breaks through all her defense and painfully hits somewhere in her solar plexus.

“It's not true,” Miiko quickly shuts the desk. Everything inside her is twisted from anxiety and efforts to not reveal it.

"Always!" Lance insists.

“I just help Yonuki Kaze to keep an order in the Guards. It’s not my fault that you are constantly breaking it." Miiko hides her eyes and wants to leave. Under Lance's hostile gaze, her emotions reach a boiling point. Her heart whines piteously, begging not to torment it anymore.

"Me?!", Lance is indignant, and in contrast with Miiko, his emotions explode. “No more than anyone in the Headquarters! But you are staring at me all the time, as if you are waiting for me to screw up ..."

His reproaches are fair, and like arrows burst into Miiko's chest and pierce her through and through.

"So what's going on?!"

“Nothing,” Miiko quickly rushes out into the hallway. “Just redo the report,” she says, not looking back.

It would seem that the conversation is over. But not for Lance. His instinct says that something is fishy here, and demands him to get to the bottom of the truth. The obsidian changes tactics.

“Did I offend you with something?” he asks, catching up Miiko in the hallway.

“No,” the kitsune walks swiftly down the corridor, but Lance keeps her from leaving. In two broad steps, he overtakes her. Miiko almost bumps into him, but stops in time and bounces back, avoiding another awkward moment between them.

“Did I hurt any of your friends?”

“No,” Miiko answers through clenched teeth, and tries to go around him, but Lance takes a step, blocking her way again.

"Then what?"

“Nothing ...” Miiko turns around as fast as she can taking another attempt to escape, but Lance reacts faster. He intercepts her just above the elbow, turning her to him again. A rough touch, but the first... and the only. And Miiko knows that for a long time she will feel his fingers on her forearm.

“Then I give a good warning”, Lance says through gritted teeth. “Stay the hell away from me ...” This situation where he completely doesn't understand what is going on brought him to a boil.

What is going on in his head at this moment? Miiko is ready to sell her soul to a demon just to find it out ... It seems to her that if she looks into his eyes, she will understand everything. But she can’t. She does not dare to raise her head, because too many feelings are reflected in her eyes at that moment. The feelings that he will not understand... which will piss him off even more. So... he must never know.

"I ...", Miiko is trying to utter something intelligible... but at last she pulls herself together in a second, and her face freezes in a militant expression. “None of your business,” kitsune replies sharply. “If you think that I'm wrong, or I’m exceeding my authority - go talk to Yonuki Kase,” she says, tearing her hand out.

“What do you take me for?”, Lance snorts irritably. “I’m not going to disturb the old man because of ...” he stops. Takes deep a breath to finish the sentence, but says nothing.

"Because of whom?", Miiko continues to advance, wanting to get to the end and dot all the points. If the end of his phrase is – ‘because of an arrogant girl’, - or – ‘because of a worthless upstart’, she wants to hear it. Hear from him. She needs him to say these words her in person, and then her torment will end. Sentence and quick death is better than continuous boiling on a slow fire of her unrequited feelings and phantom hopes. Now she looks up at him and in her eyes - she is sure - a plea for pardon and quick reprisal.

But Lance is silent. He looks at her, and then takes a step back, turns around and quickly leaves the corridor. He has already made his conclusions, and the only Oracle knows what's in his head now! Let it be... Let him consider her an idiot, an arrogant upstart, a hypocrite ... Yes, anyone! – but does not feel her weakness in front of his only smile. He must never know.

Lance apparently decides simply to ignore Miiko as an annoying interior detail. Not to pay attention. And it all ends.... more precisely, it loops in a circle within the framework of the Guards subordination and dry, formalized words. And this framework is so tight that there is no place for unnecessary fantasies, thoughts and feelings. Although Miiko is still tense every time she has to listen to Lance's another report. She is making efforts not to start dreaming accidentally and not look at him at a 'wrong' way. She holds her breath, and exhales only when he leaves ...

Until the day he leaves to never come back...

As if an avalanche in her chest demolishes all the built walls, dams and barriers.

That's all.

The end.

Her personal apocalypse - everything that used to seem important explodes and turns to dust. Now she can give free rein to all her feelings ... but all in vain - inside her there's just pain and absorbing black longing. Something that earlier could have resulted in tenderness, care, passion, breaks out in hysteria, emptiness, and despair. She can no longer be afraid... but she has simply no more strength to shout about what he must never know.

... And he will never ever know.

#eldarya #eldarya miiko #eldarya lance #ashkore #fanfic #eldarya fic

[connorssock]

Magical DPD

The DPD was an equal opportunities place of employment. They didn’t discriminate, no matter the origins of someone. Even a plain old human like Gavin could get hired with the right skills were demonstrated. Though it was rare to have a human on the force, they were generally considered too vulnerable to magical influence even if they were hardier than some other creatures.

Still, Gavin worked hard and he made the grade, became a detective, even became friendly with Tina, one of the fae on the force. She and Chris, a suave incubus were his friends though Hank made for a decent boss, especially as a werewolf. His need to form a pack translated well into helping the precinct gel as a unit, especially when his Alpha tendencies showed. As an ogre, Fowler was better suited as Captain, he willingly fought for his subordinates with words, only old school ogres were sticklers for clubs and fist fights.

As a human, Gavin was used to being one of the smaller beings on the force. It had its advantages at times. People whispered in surprise at how easily Gavin seemed to resist the near constant lure of Chris’ nature. And how delicately he navigated around Tina’s questions in a way that never left him open to any kind of vulnerability. There were unasked questions that Gavin didn’t really fancy talking about so he left the gossips to wonder.

The day the haughty centaurs deigned to join the force, Gavin was seething. They had resisted lowering themselves to such mundane works as policing and were generally considered standoffish at the best of times. To have not one but two of them arrive at the precinct and be fawned over was all but spitting in his face. Centaurs were lauded for their acquiescence to join while humans had to bust a nut. It wasn’t fair. To add insult to injury, Gavin was partnered with one, at least until Nines got into the swing of things.

To an outsider, the initial face-off between Gavin and Nines would have looked ridiculous. Gavin stood there with his chest puffed out and ready to pick a fight with Nines who towered over him. The disparity between their appearances was quite drastic too, Gavin in his slightly shabby clothes, leather jacket and jeans while Nines was brushed and shiny coats with a sharp shirt covering his human half.

It was a sight most people grew accustomed to; the two of them facing off, Nines seemingly passive and calm while Gavin was all but spitting fury. Yet any attempt to separate them, break their partnership was met with stubborn resistance on both sides. Gavin maintained that to separate them would mean he was admitting defeat while Nines simply asserted that his learning curve was not yet at a plateau so he was loath to be removed from his partner. A deeper understanding of their partnership was gained when Gavin was sent out to a domestic disturbance.

The call had come in, requesting a single officer to intervene between a human couple. As per department procedures, a human detective was sent out. When a second call came in requesting backup, Nines was already half out of the precinct, annoyed he had been left behind in the first place. The report of an officer down shortly followed. Nobody quite knew what had happened, one minute, there was the bustle of an arrest, the next, Gavin was on the floor, blood pooling around him from the stab wound nobody had expected. The ambulance was too far out for Nines’ liking. He broke all social standards as he helped swing Gavin onto his back and raced to the hospital in record time. Some said he even made the siren noises just to get a laugh out of Gavin.

After that, things between Nines and Gavin shifted. There was a comfortable camaraderie between them. More often than not, when they faced off, it ended with Gavin on his tiptoes and Nines leaning down for a soft kiss. Rumours began to spread which neither of them bothered to even acknowledge.

It was only when Nines was confronted by Connor that certain things came to light. Not that anything Nines confided in his brother went far but somehow the truth had its way of getting out, along with a few candid pictures.

Most nights, Gavin and Nines left separately, nobody paid them much attention. Which suited them just fine. Especially since their routes home were exactly the same. Nines’ house had more space and was converted with centaurs in mind. Over time, it gained a few stools and portable steps so someone of shorted stature could reach the top shelves too. And at nights, Nines bedded down on a nest of blankets and pillows, curled around Gavin who was more than content to snuggle in and leach warmth.

“So, he’s half horse and hung like one, how does it work?” Tina asked bluntly one lunchtime. Gavin shrugged around a mouthful of hot dog. “Oh come on, you know I won’t tell anyone.”

“I don’t know,” Gavin finally muttered. The outraged muttering from Tina wasn’t the most encouraging but he ignored it.

“So you’re telling me, you have him all to yourself and you haven’t...” she trailed off as understanding dawned. “Oh.”

Gavin smiled sweetly at her. “I didn’t tell you so you can’t use it against me.”

“Like I ever would,” she scoffed in offence. “But you and him. Never?”

“Don’t need it. I like what we have as it,” Gavin assured her and he straightened from the table as he felt a warm presence approach from behind. Arms wrapped around his chest and Nines leaned down to nuzzle his hair.

“Guessing that’s our not quite secret is out?”

Gavin nodded and turned to crane his neck, silently asking for a soft press of lips against his. Having been given it, he smiled contentedly. It didn’t matter if nobody else understood what he and Nines had. Or if they made wild assumptions which, in his eyes, were laughable. As he’d told Tina, he and Nines were happy as was, they didn’t need anything more even if others thought otherwise.

#reed900 #dbh: gavin #dbh: rk900 #ace!gavin #ace!nines #centaur!nines #supernatural creatures au

[feroluce]

Shouritshou Week - Fairy Tale

Warnings: None!

This one is also on twitter and Ao3, so I wanted to hurry and crosspost it to @shouritshou on here, too, before the week was over! It was a style experiment for me, I wanted to write something kinda like the reader was listening to an actual fairy tale. So I imagined they’re also aged up to young adults, like a lot of warrior-hero fairy tale protagonists.

Once upon a time, there was a kingdom.

The king of this kingdom was not cruel, but he was not kind, either. And the people often suffered under his apathy.

But they had one ray of hope. For before the queen had quietly slipped away, she left them an heir. A little child who shone bright and hot where their king only gave them coldness. Someday, when the king passed, he would inherit the throne, and the people all eagerly awaited it.

But then there came a day where the king declared war on a neighboring nation. And then another, and then another. He conquered lands left and right and his territory expanded, but under him, the lands languished. He couldn't help them prosper and grow.

The prince was set to inherit a war-torn wasteland.

So he gathered up a tiny army of his own. A swordsman, an apothecary, and an alchemist all joined him. But there was one last person who caught his eye, moreso than anyone else. A knight from a nearby conquered land, with eyes like firelight and hair like crows feathers. He had fought against the invasion, even when greatly outmatched, even when his weapon was taken away from him, even when he was captured kicking and screaming. The prince had fallen in love with his resourcefulness and determination at first sight.

As the day of his rebellion drew near, the prince went down into the dungeons, keys hidden in his sleeve. However, he found that the knight had already gotten loose all on his own and was even leading other prisoners to freedom. The prince showed them the path through the underground tunnels and sewers to the outside, where all but the knight left to return to their own homes and families. The prince told him his tale and asked that he might join him in his coup and much to his surprise, the knight agreed almost immediately. His own elder brother was an extremely powerful sorcerer who could so easily overtake the world the same way that the prince's father was doing. His plight moved him and stirred the knight's heart.

Right then and there, he knelt and pledged his life to the prince and his cause, and the prince knighted him as one of his own. He would be his sword and shield.

And so the two of them ran away into the night, somewhere that the king would never find them, and they spent their days together poring over plans. Everything that the prince had plotted, the knight improved upon. Everything that the knight became stuck on, the prince charged through and worked around.

And every night, the alchemist and the apothecary and the swordsman had to watch them sit closer and closer together around the candlelight.

♢♢♢

When the promised day suddenly announced itself and forced them into action, the knight and the prince fought almost like a single person. They tore their way back-to-back through the king's army and through the first four of his Five Generals- An ogre, a dryad, a beastmaster, and even a demon who warped through thin air.

("Go," the knight insisted. "I'm glad to have you around," the prince replied.)

♢♢♢

The prince never even made it past the fifth general, a dragon capable of human speech who was never far from the king.

It was only by the elder brother's hand that he was saved from his father's cruelty. The sorcerer had come to reclaim his younger sibling and stumbled right into a full-blown battle. He would make his wrath known.

♢♢♢

The knight and the prince stood together as they watched the tallest tower be lifted almost effortlessly into the air, and the world came raining down around them.

The prince took the knight's hand and laced their fingers together. The knight did not pull away.

♢♢♢

In the end, the king was defeated by the sorcerer, and the prince was left to gaze at the crumbling wreckage that had been his castle. The knight was the one to approach him and take his arm. He hadn't left yet.

When the prince asked why, he said that he was his knight. He had made an oath to stay as long as the prince needed him. So...if the prince needed him for forever...then he would stay forever.

And hearing that, the prince immediately dropped to one knee and knelt to pledge his life in return, and asked that he really might stay with him forever, then. The knight agreed, even quicker and more sure than before.

And the two of them lived together happily ever after.

#shouritshou2019 #ritshou #shouritsu #kageyama ritsu #suzuki shou #my fics #day 3 fairy tale #fairy tale #I got so sick of looking at this one eventually BLEGH #i got really stuck towards the end... #because the focus in canon is on the big final battle #but neither shou or ritsu are involved in that battle #it's just shigeo and toui #so i had to figure out what to do with it #writing that last line nearly made me ill #it's too cliche and sappy! #My heart can't take that kind of thing! #it makes me wanna yarl jfdkalsjfdkla #but i wanted to since it started with once upon a time... #also please imagine this as what lead up to shigeo's appearance #shou: yo does that brother of yours know where you are? #ritsu: no i need to tell him i'm ok as soon as this all settles down #shou who is already signing a ransom note for ritsu in toui's name: ok cool #mp100

[therake-1996-blog]

Revelation Ch. 16

Chapter 16- Zuben

Zuben Past POV

“Lord Zuben, would you mind looking over these documents and signing them?” My vice-minister came up to me one particularly slow afternoon and handed me a small packet of papers, each needing the Minister of Punishment’s signature.

“Of course, Prin. There’s no deadline?”

“No.”

“Then I’ll have them to you by the end of the day.”

“Thank you, Zuben.”

As I nodded, he turned and began away, passing another high-ranking god.

“Oh, Ichthyo!” I called.

“Lord Zuben,” He smiled as he walked over to me, and we shook hands in greeting.

“I heard that your wife just gave birth. Congratulations.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“So do you have a son or a daughter?”

“Ah, we have a son. We’ve named him Ichthys.”

I chuckled.

“Appropriate name. I wish the best for you.”

“Thank you very much, Lord Zuben.” Ichthyo bowed to me, and we bid farewell before I went toward my office, sifting through the papers my vice-minister had given me. Hm. I didn’t realize remodeling the dungeon was something that needed the minister’s signature, but alright.

Shortly after I entered my office, I heard a ringing in my head.

Please report to the throne room, Zuben.

The king? What could he have wanted?

I made sure my uniform was in order and headed out toward the throne room. On my way, I passed a group of students hoping to join Punishments led by my son. Top student, excellent performance in work, very serious…I was relieved that he wasn’t as carefree as his mother, but I did wish he was a little more relaxed. He seemed to try too hard, and I didn’t want him to stress himself.

I clapped a hand on his shoulder.

“How are the students today?”

“They are all doing well, fa—er, Lord Zuben.” Zyglavis cleared his throat when a couple students began giggling. “Though, some of them may need discipling.” I smiled.

“Try not to be too hard on them. All work and no play makes for a very stressful job.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. Have a good rest of your day.”

My son bowed to me, and I continued on to the throne room.

If I had known that that would be the last time I ever saw my son, I would’ve told him that I loved him, how proud I was of him. How I knew he would make a fine minister in my place.

But how could I have known then?

When I neared the throne room, the ornate doors opened on their own for me, and there the king waited, his eyes sharp like always. I bowed.

“You wished to see me, your majesty?”

“Yes. I have a very simple mission for you, down on Earth. I need you to find a girl for me.” I blinked.

“A…girl?”

“Yes.”

“Um…pardon me, your majesty, but why me?”

“Because I know you are the only one who can do it. It’s quite easy, really. A simple ten minute in and out job. It won’t be that difficult, will it?”

I felt my fingers curling into my palms. I knew the look on the king’s face right now, and it was one that I did not like. It was a look that told me this mission wouldn’t be as easy as he claimed it would be. But…I couldn’t say no. I didn’t have the right to. I took a breath.

“Where is the girl?”

…

Strange.

I had gone exactly where the king told me she would be, but the house she was supposed to be in wasn’t there. In fact, the entire city she was supposed to be living in didn’t even exist yet. I looked around, frowning deeply. I could feel the dimple in my left eyebrow forming. Was the king just playing a game because he was bored?

All that was around me was forest and field, a few cows grazing lazily.

Sighing, I pinched the bridge of my nose, my eyes closed.

Rustle, rustle.

My head snapped up.

The temperature around me seemed to plummet, and the cows that were grazing mooed frantically, hurrying to get away. My body picked up on a threatening aura, and I slowly looked around, but couldn’t find anything out of place. Perhaps there was a dark god nearby?

Suddenly something hard hit me, snapping across my back with the force of a thousand tons and knocking the breath right out of me. My body went hurdling to the ground, my head knocking against a sizeable rock. The sky above me blurred and spun, the clouds mixing into the grey color. My back rang out in pain, and I tried to roll onto my front to pull myself to my feet. The hard object knocked into me again, sending me rolling a few feet. I could hear the cows still panicking.

Before I could even think of moving, my wrist was snatched up in the blink of an eye. As my mind struggled to catch up with what just happened, I saw a mouth open, baring sharp, pointed fangs. That mouth closed over my wrist with no regard for my sleeve.

And then came the pain.

Like a hot knife slicing into my skin, followed by the feeling of boiling water spilling into my veins, any will I had to struggle vanished. All my mind could comprehend was the pain, the burning, and I let out a loud scream that only lasted a millisecond before the creature’s hand clamped down over my mouth.

I still screamed against his palm, but my voice was greatly muffled. My body twitched, my legs curling up in agony and my torso seizing, my free arm thrashing against the damp ground under me.

No…no! I had to fight! I had to get back to my wife, to my son! I was not to die here!

Somehow I found the strength to lift my left hand and snap my fingers, my shadow slithering off the ground behind the creature slowly killing me.

Shadow, I thought. Follow my orders. Get rid of it!

My shadow obeyed, it’s hands reaching out and grabbing onto the human-like creature’s hair and yanking, pulling it’s mouth from my wrist. The pain didn’t stop.

The creature—male—let out a shocked yell and whirled to his feet, crouched. My shadow began morphing, turning into a giant ogre and splitting into three more as the pain in my hand began crawling up my arm, moving to my shoulder.

The thing didn’t even bother to fight. He just turned and darted away, moving quicker than my eye could follow. My shadow slid back into its place under me.

Now, I had a new problem. The pain. The unbearable burning, like there was a fire raging in my veins, like someone dumped acid straight into my body. I writhed on the ground, flopping about like a fish out of water, strangled cries escaping my lips. It hurt. It hurt, it hurt, it hurt, it hurt.

The pain felt as heavy as a planet; I couldn’t shoulder it, even though it wasn’t even at twenty-five percent of my body yet. My heart took off like a kick drum, making my back bow off the ground in an unnatural way and making my breath hitch. I could hear the swirling torrent of blood rush through my head, feel it in every inch of my body. The insidious pain crawled down to my chest and crept to the other side of my body, slowly taking over my upper half.

All I wanted at this point was to die. To have never been born. Everything I had done, the whole of my existence, did nothing, nothing to outweigh this pain. Working beside the king for years, marrying my beautiful wife, even having my pride-worthy son…none of it, none of it, was worth this pain. Not worth living through one more single heartbeat.

Kill me…please, just let me die.

I couldn’t tell when the pain even began anymore; just that it was. It felt like the pain had existed since the beginning of time, just one endless moment of torture.

It slowly travelled to my lower half, igniting my hips and legs in fire and razing me until I thought I should’ve been nothing but ash. My voice tore from my throat, echoing hollowly through the forest, to be heard by no one but myself.

And I burned forever.

…

I don’t know how long I burned.

It could’ve been minutes, hours, days, years…it all felt the same to me. But finally, it stopped. Everything just stopped.

Although I was convinced that I should’ve been a pile of smoldering ash, I wasn’t. My eyes took in everything with crystal clear precision; from the smallest speck of dust to the tiniest microbe, I saw everything.

I heard the call of the birds and the rushing of the river seventy miles from my location, as well as a deer grazing lazily a few meters from me. And the smells. Lavender, pine, moss, oak, something rich and tangy…And with the smell came the taste. I liked all of it.

At first.

If only I knew that this curse would separate me from my family. I never would’ve thought it interesting.

As I played with my new abilities, a sudden, bright white light surrounded me, and when it faded, I realized I was brought back to the Heavens. Before me was the king, looking entertained, but simultaneously grim.

How he managed to do that, I’ll never know.

“Your majesty…” I mumbled, slightly embarrassed.

“Zuben,” He replied. “Feeling better?”

“You…you knew,”

“Indeed.”

“Then…why didn’t you stop it?”

“I cannot stop what is already set in motion, my child, you know that.”

I fell silent. I did know that. Still, it would’ve been nice if he dulled the pain, even a little. His mouth turned up the slightest bit.

“Zuben.”

“Yes?”

“You are a vampire now.”

I blinked, frowning.

“I’m…a what?”

“A vampire. A creature that feeds on the blood of other living creatures. You no longer have a heartbeat, and will live on without aging for eternity. Humans become vampires as well, so long as they aren’t killed by one first.”

Confusion wracked my mind. But…I was a god. Could I have been both a god and a vampire? Apparently reading my mind, the king sighed heavily.

“No, Zuben, you cannot. I’m afraid that, because you are now a vampire…you have fallen from grace.”

I went rigid.

“What…?”

“I’m sorry, my child, but one cannot be both a god and a vampire. Vampires are tainted, unholy creatures, and gods must not kill, you know that. Vampires kill in order to survive.”

“But! What of my wife? My son? My position in Punishments?”

“I shall explain all of that to you. It will take some time.”

The king narrowed his golden eyes, a spark within them. Anger grew inside my gut as something told me he knew that this was going to happen.

“I apologize, Zuben. Truly.”

…

I trudged to the home I shared with my wife and son when I knew that only she would be home. I couldn’t let Zyglavis see me this way. I knew it would break him.

Looking up at the grand mansion, I felt the familiar sting of tears in my eyes.

This would be the last time I saw this home.

I went inside.

The house, which was usually cool, felt neutral to me as I stepped inside, listening for my wife. The king explained that I was allowed to say goodbye to Lyranna, but not Zyglavis. The reason for this was because once I left, there would be an emergency ordaining ceremony for Zyglavis to become both the Minister of Punishments and the god of Libra. He wouldn’t be able to handle it if he knew the exact reason why I fell; it would just be too much for him.

But her…I knew I would crush her heart. Break it into a thousand pieces. I swallowed tightly.

My head hung low, I followed the sound of my precious wife’s heart to the kitchen and entered, staying near the entry. She turned toward me.

“Hello, darling.”

She said with a radiant smile, one that I could not return. When I didn’t reply, nor return her smile, she instantly knew something was wrong.

“Zuben? Honey, what’s wrong?”

She approached me, reaching a hand out for me. I hissed.

“Don’t touch me!”

I heard her lungs inflate quickly, the breath hitching in her throat, as she gasped sharply, shocked that I would speak to her in such a way. Her hand was frozen, inches from my skin, seeming like it would never move again.

“Zu…ben?” She choked. There were tears in her voice.

I could feel my throat closing off, nothing short of sheer agony washing over me powerfully, like the waves of the angriest sea, as she stared at me with hurt on her face. How I hated this. How I absolutely loathed having to do this to her. The one I had spent the last millennia with.

“Lyranna,” I whispered. “I love you. Please…always remember that.”

“Zuben? What’s wrong?” Now her voice began rising, teetering on the edge of hysteria. She shuffled forward a few steps, and I backed away from her, keeping her appealing scent at a bearable distance. “Zuben, please, you’re scaring me. What happened? What’s…”

And then she saw it. The difference in my eyes.

My eyes, once the color of amethyst—Lyranna’s favorite color—were now the color of the brightest rubies, glinting as I backed into the light of the sun shining in through a window. My skin was no longer bronzed, but instead, sheet white, my black hair standing out in stunning contrast against it.

I managed to smile.

“I am so sorry, my love. I’ve fallen.”

A mix of emotions crossed my wife’s face. Horror, agony, loss, pain, sadness, anger, more horror. And then all that took her perfect face was nothing but grief and despair.

“No. NO!”

She lunged for me, throwing her arms around me and pressing herself against my body. I stiffened, everything about her sending my new instincts into overdrive. Her impossible, mouthwatering scent, her warmth, her extreme softness, and then to top it all off, my overwhelming love for her…I could feel the venom fill my mouth to the brim.

I wanted nothing more at that moment than to taste my precious love’s blood.

“Get OFF!”

As loud and harsh as my words may have been, I forced myself to be so meticulous, so careful, as I placed my hands on her arms and pushed her from me, forcing her to stay put when she fought to get back to me.

“Let me go! Let me hold you!” She demanded, tears streaming down her face.

“No, Lyranna.”

“Tch…”

Finally, she gave up and sank to the floor, slumping her shoulders and sobbing softly.

“Why?” She whispered. “Why, Zuben?”

I clenched my hands into fists.

“The mission. I failed it. I was turned into a vampire.”

“A…?”

Her head snapped up at that word, her eyes wide and glimmering. My heart broke at her face; red, cheeks tear-stained and eyes puffy. I wanted nothing more than to comfort her, but knew that I could not touch her.

“If a god is made anything other than a god, we fall,” I whispered with a morose smile. “And I fell.”

“But…Zyglavis…! What of our son? What will you tell him?”

I turned my eyes to the ground.

“Zuben!”

“I am forbidden to see him.”

“What?”

Now Lyranna was angry. I could’ve almost laughed, if this had been a laughing matter. When it came to protecting our son, to preserving his tender heart, my wife would turn into the most lethal creature, something I hoped wouldn’t change once I left.

“Once I’m gone, our son will take both my position as God of Libra and the Minister of the Department of Punishments. If he knew the truth of what happened to me, it would be too much for him to take. He must be content with simply knowing I fell and became human, that I remember nothing of my life as a god, and that I will live and die as a human, not continue on forever. If he knew…it would destroy him, Lyranna, and you know that.”

Lyranna fell silent. She did know that.

“But…I don’t…I mean I can’t let you go,” She whispered. “Please don’t leave me.”

The fault line in my chest rippled, something inside me splitting open just the tiniest bit. It hurt. So, so much.

“I’m sorry, my love. But I can’t stay here, not as I am. I am tainted.”

“No, you’re not! You’re perfect!”

Lyranna reaches for me again, but I flinch away from her. A sob wracks her body.

“Please, Zuben. Please, let me touch you.”

What little willpower I had completely diminished, and I knew it. I had to leave. I had to leave her, now.

“I must go.”

Spitting those words through clenched teeth, I spun on my heel and began for the entryway, but Lyranna grabbed my wrist. I felt my control snap.

I spun around and shoved my wife against the wall, pinning her wrists over her head. Right as she gasped, my mouth came crashing down on hers, hard. Her heartbeat spiked, increasing my lust for both her body and blood, but I knew I had to be satisfied with just this. She was warm, which was quite a surprise seeing as she was always cool to me before, her body soft like cotton and so easily breakable.

My mouth moved frantically over hers, making her struggle to keep up.

“I love you,” I growled against her lips. “I love you so much, Lyranna.”

“Zu…ben…”

I shoved away from her roughly and bolted from the house before I did something I regretted, darting into the forests surrounding it.

Dammit…dammit! Why did this have to happen? What did I ever do to bring down such wrath? What did my family ever do? As the rage, agony, pity, and hatred took over my mind, my sanity slowly began slipping away.

…

The king himself walked me to the Forbidden Gates leading down to Earth. It was where gods went to become human, where humans went to become gods…or in my case, were vampire gods went to just become vampires.

“You will lose your ability to return to the Heavens…I’m sure you understand why.”

A small growl escaped my lips. The king no longer deserved my respect. I heard him chuckle.

As we came to the doors he turned to me, a mischievous twinkle in his eye.

“It may take some time, but…perhaps, if you find the girl, you’ll be able to return to the Heavens.”

“What?” I bit out.

“You heard me, Zuben. I am not without mercy, and you were quite the upstanding god. Find the girl—and I’ll know when you do—and I’ll bring you both to the Heavens. Simple, correct?”

For whatever reason, I didn’t believe him.

The king stepped to the side and the doors of the Forbidden Gate opened, a forest on Earth waiting on the other side. I threw a glance over my shoulder back at the Heavens that had been my home for so many years, then looked back at the Earth’s forest, my new home. The hatred inside me grew stronger.

Growing colder, I stepped past the door.

…

Knock, knock, knock.

“Mother?”

A man stood outside a set of grand doors leading into his now widowed mother’s bedroom, his hands and forehead resting against the white wood.

“Please…I know you’re in there. I need to know, mother, I can’t do this just by having courage on its own. I don’t even think I can do this…I’m not ready. I can’t be…the god of Libra. I’m not like father. I’m not good enough. Please, mother, I need your help. Please…let me in.”

He squeezed his eyes shut, his fingers curling into his palms as silence fell in the hall, no response from his mother. His breath came shakily as he fought to keep the tears at bay. The shock of becoming the god of Libra and the Minister of Punishments had finally faded, and now reality had set in. His father had fallen, and why, no one would tell him. Not the king. Not even his mother. She had locked herself in her room for days, not coming out even when he begged.

He had to do it alone, and he wasn’t sure if he could.

Lord Zyglavis, new Minister of Punishments, new god of Libra, stood outside his mother’s bedroom door for hours, wishing she’d tell him why.

#zyglavis #star crossed myth #star crossed myth fan fiction #otome game #fanfic #voltage inc #voltage fanfic #scm #scm fanfic #scm zyglavis

[painandpromisefanboi]

Pain and Promise Chapter One

I never thought this would happen. I never thought it was possible. I woke up this morning with a dry mouth, the smell of cologne in my nostrils. I looked to my left as all of what occurred last night came flooding back. I felt my face grow hot. My dad is going to kill me if he finds out. I looked at Kael as he slept next to me. He looked so peaceful. Hi perfectly chiseled jaw, tensing as he rolled over. He knocked the covers off, exposing his biceps. I slid closer to him, cuddling my head under his chin. He was so big, yet so gentle...

Two days ago

Okay, I’m sure you’re confused as hell right now. Let me start over. My name is Ethan [last name] and I'm a fifteen year old sophomore at ‘No One Gives a Shit About This Place and We Have No Money’ (no that's not the real name) High School. I hate my life and want to die (most of the time). As for my sexuality, I don't really know. I've never really been attracted to girls and I do find myself attracted to guys now and then. Does that make me gay? Okay i guess i'm gay. Well, I don't know. Whatever.All I know is, I feel like it isn't right and I hate myself because i'm not proud of who I am. Anyway…

Let's go back to three days ago. I was sitting alone, as usual, eyeballing Kael’s beautifully constructed body. When he looked up at me, I immediately turned bright red and looked away, avoiding his beautiful green eyes. I didn’t dare look again, in case he caught me drooling over him. I just stared at the floor. I heard movement near me, but thought nothing of it until I saw a chair being pulled up to mine. I was ready to tell the stupid freshman to leave me alone when i realized it wasn’t a freshman at all. He, in fact, was the only junior I could stand. I blushed slightly. It was Kael. He smiled at me and looked at me with his kind eyes. I couldn’t help but smile back.

“Why do you sit alone, but then stare at me everyday?” I sat in shock for a moment. He knew that I looked at him all the time?

“Why don’t you come sit with me tomorrow?” he invited politely. “ I promise I don’t bite.” He winked.

“Oh… um… okay,” I stuttered. He got up, satisfied, and headed back toward his table when i called out, “Kael..” He stopped.

“Yes?”

“Can I ask you something?” I began nervously, my heart pounding.

“Sure.”

“This… this is going to sound stupid, but…” I couldn’t say it yet.

“But what?” he asked. Looking over at his jock friends who beckoned him.

“Nevermind…”I said in defeat.

“Well I came back, so you have to ask.”

“Oh…” I said, “Um.. are y-you.. Single?” His facial expression was unexpected. He suddenly grabbed my wrist and dragged me to the bathroom.

“I’ve actually been wanting to ask you something,” he said. “I was wondering,” he started, pulling me into a stall with him. “Well.. I’ve heard the rumors..” He trailed off. I had a good idea where this was headed.

“Are you… gay?” he asked with a twinkle of hope in his eyes.

“Well..” I started. I blushed a little as he slowly slid his hand up my arm to my shoulder.

“Hey, it’s okay. I’m not gonna lie.. I think I am, too.”

My heart soared. The next thing I knew, I flung my arms around his neck, burying my face in his chest. He smelled so good. I felt his powerful heart beating fast. To my surprise, he wrapped his arms around me and hugged me back.

“You never answered me.” I pulled away from the hug fast. I just realized I’ve barely spoken two words to him in my whole life

“Y-yeah,” was all I could get out. I looked down. He out his strong hand under my chin so that our eyes could meet. I stared into them. They gave me the courage to say, “I-I’ve had a huge crush on you f-for a while now…” He smiled. His smile was so cute.

“You know, I prefer your type myself. I’ve actually had my eye on you, too.”

I was ecstatic. “Really?!” I said, maybe a little too excited.

“Yeah,” he chuckled.

We heard someone come into the bathroom. By the sound of many shuffling feet, I guessed there were probably three people. I knew who it was when I heard the idiotic chuckles and the comments on ‘Jessica’s fine tits’. It was all of Kael’s football buddies. I panicked and pushed away from Kael’s hug. I slid into the stall next to us. I heard Kael exit the stall next to mine and greet them. You probably know how it went, the barbaric way of chest bumping and ‘friendly’ punches, and calls of, “hey what's up my man,” and other useless crap that was all part of the greeting ritual of the football players. The next bit of their conversation was devastating.

Ogre Brute #1, “So what’s up with that stalker kid?”

Ogre Brute #2 butted in with, “Yeah little mister stares a lot”

Kael then replied with, “Listen guys, i don't think he's a stalker. He probably just has some issues.”

Even though that was a bit harsh, it was true. I thought it was a bit odd eavesdropping on such a pointless conversation, especially from within a bathroom stall, but I've done stranger things.

Ogre Brute #3, “Or he’s just a fag.”

That hit me hard. The three sniggered and I just sat there, dumbfounded. I could tell by Kael’s silence, he was carefully thinking of what to say. If he defended me again, they would make fun of him. If he agreed, he would hurt me and be a hypocrite.

“Y-yeah. Probably,” came Kael’s voice. He forced a chuckle. I could tell he was upset by the shake in his voice. I still couldn’t believe that he agreed with them. It hurt really bad. I slowly slid to the floor. I didn't realize i was crying until I felt a warm tear streak down my face. Those two, simple words crushed me. I had thought for just a few moments, maybe just a moment too long, that I would finally be happy. I started giving up hope in ever being happy again.

I heard them leave and broke down. Kael would never know how hard i was crying on the bathroom floor.

Hey friends!!

I finally posted Chapter One!!!

I would like to warn everyone that there is explicit language and there is a graphic scene at the end of chapter one. I didn’t post the graphic scene and am not planning to do so unless you guy want me to. I am writing this story to bring up some of the negative parts of being gay and how to overcome them or deal with them. It also makes me very happy, so please do not hate on my story. I have experienced everything in my book first hand. Feel free to ask any questions and leave suggestions!

Thanks <3

#gay #gaystories #gaylove

[lhugbereth]

yes yes yes i need the continuation where gladio mercilessly manhandles prompto and pounds him exactly like he's daydreaming

More manhandling, you say?

Daaaamn, Anon and @peachypotpourri - you guys are as thirsty as Prom! 

Very well. Here you have it, Part Two of the Promptio Manhandling Kink Saga! (Implying, of course, that there will be more of this in increasingly smutty increments). In this edition, Gladio realizes just what his manly muscles do to Prompto’s dick. 

Shameless. That’s what this is. And also a continuation of this mess. 

Manhandle Me, Daddiolus

Prompto x Gladio1,565 words, Mature (for dirty, dirty thoughts)

Prompto is acting weird, no two ways about it.

And not like an everyday kind of weird, which Prompto usually is and which Gladio adores about him, but distant weird. Ever since they came back that morning from their hike, the blonde has hardly said three words to him (which amounted to a hurried ‘Here ya go’ as he’d handed over the flowers he'd picked).

On top of that, Prompto’s clearly avoiding him. Dodging out of his way, not making eye contact, hiding out in the tent faking a stomachache. Childish things that remind him of when Iris was younger and got mad at him for breaking her toys.

But Prompto isn't a child, and Gladio isn't sure how to handle being given the cold shoulder like this. He prefers to deal with problems head on, always has. How can he do that when the blonde is ducking out of sight at every corner?

The chance to talk finally comes after they’ve packed up camp. Noct is carrying the lightest of the bags, mostly containing clothes and the like, while Ignis and Prompto grab the chairs, the cooler, and the table between them. Gladio is left with the tent, which he’s got slung over his shoulder, and the heaviest of their bags weighing down each hand. Still, he makes it look easy. While the other two can’t seem to care less, he’s caught Prompto’s bright baby blues flicking back to him every so often, flushing as he takes in the sight and then looking away again just as quickly.

It’s weird, and Gladio can’t keep his mouth shut any longer.

“Hey, Prom,” he says in a voice loud enough to grab the blonde’s attention, but not to send him into a panic. “C’mere a sec.”

Prompto nearly trips over his feet in his hurry to turn around (so much for not panicking him). He pawns the table off on Ignis with an apologetic look, then shuffles in place for a moment while he waits for Gladio to catch up. “What’s up?” he asks in a strained voice, gaze locked somewhere in the vicinity of Gladio’s knees.

The Shield frowns. “You tell me, chocobo. You’ve been acting jumpy all morning. Did I do something wrong?”

Blue eyes go wide and finally Prompto dares to look up. Big mistake. The sight of Gladio’s muscles tensing as he shifts the weight of the tent from one shoulder to the other sends the blonde’s heart pounding. “U-um.” Oh, right, he was asked a question. “No! Of course not, big guy. No problems here, everything’s just peachy!”

“Uh-huh. Was it something about the hike? Are you mad I asked you to go with me?”

Prompto’s cheeks redden and he fidgets with a cord on the chair he’s carrying. “No way, I was glad you asked….”

“Then what? The flowers? Did I hurt you going up the cliff?”

There’s no answer, at least not a clear one. But from the way the blonde’s entire face lights up like a Moogle nose at a carnival, Gladio knows he’s getting close. “Okay. The cliff. What, you were scared?”

A frantic shake of the blonde’s head, and he flushes a deeper shade of red. “You were embarrassed, then?” More head shaking, more blushing. “You hated it?”

“I liked it.”

His voice is quiet. So quiet that Gladio isn’t sure he heard him correctly. It isn’t the first time - same thing happened earlier that day, even - but at this point, he can’t just let it go. “Come again?”

“I….” Prompto swallows, adjusts the chairs in his arms and shoots a cautious glance at Iggy and Noct way ahead of them. “I liked it, Gladio.”

“You...liked it.”

The silence between them is palpable, throbbing with the erratic pounding of Prompto’s heart in his chest and the ticking of gears in Gladio’s mind. Liked it. As in...turned on by…? The Shield has a hard time processing that for a moment. But while he’s struggling, Prompto’s sweaty palms finally betray him and the chairs go tumbling from his grip.

Clang, clash, bang. Even Ignis turns around at the commotion (then, upon realizing it’s merely the ogre and the klutz, continues out of sight around the bend after Noct). Prompto immediately scrambles to grab the chairs, but Gladio, released from his temporary paralysis, beats him to the chase. He scoops both up in a single arm with ease, straightens his back, and opens his mouth to resume the conversation...

...But stops ultimately short when he sees the look Prompto is giving him. Or, rather, the look he’s giving his body. Cheeks flushed, lips parted, eyebrows drawn into a pained knot and his eyes, his eyes so round and bright and full of unmistakable hunger. Gladio imagines it’s the way a man might look at a glass of water after wandering a desert for weeks.

Everything clicks into place. He’s surprised, yeah, and a little flattered. Mostly shocked, though, because he never imagined Prompto’s tastes ran so...rugged. How long had the kid felt it? Why had he bothered to hold it back?

“Hey. Be honest with me for a second,” Gladio says slowly, carefully. In front of him, Prompto tears his focus away from Gladio’s pecs long enough to meet his gaze and...oh yeah, he just licked his lips. “Do the other guys know?”

Blue eyes falter for a split second. “No.”

“I won’t tell them,” Gladio assures him, once again shifting the heavy objects in his arms. He really regrets not waiting to at least get to the car before having this talk. “Is there anything I can do? To help, I mean.”

Prompto nearly bursts out laughing right there on the spot. Is there anything Gladio can do?! Is he for real?! Hold me, he thinks, chest aching with need. Squeeze me, shove me down, pound me through a mattress! Fuck me ‘til I can’t walk straight! Manhandle me, for fucks sake!

“Prom?”

“Can you...carry this?” he asks instead, face hot with embarrassment while his thoughts rampage. Gladio is already holding the two chairs, but manages not to roll his eyes when Prompto hands over the cooler as well. There’s something in his smile - shy, yet serious - that has Gladio playing right along. Now with literally half of their camping gear piled up in his arms, he takes the lead in guiding Prompto back to the car. Though the blonde says little along the way, his eyes say everything.

And for his part, Gladio is pretty sure he digs the attention.  

“Hurry it up!”

That’s Noct’s voice calling to them from the backseat of the Regalia. As they near the car, it’s obvious that he and Iggy have already finished packing up their things and are waiting impatiently for the other two to arrive. Prompto starts to rush on ahead, but Gladio, overburdened as he is, can’t quite keep up. The blonde takes a few gallops forward, glances back, and skids to a halt.  

“Oh, sorry, big guy. Lemme give you a ha --”

“Nah, I got it,” Gladio says, flashing him a grin so cocky it snatches his breath away. “What’s the point in looking this good if I can’t pull my weight?”

Prompto gulps - hard - and nods his head as if to say, ‘Good point.’ Matters get worse when Ignis pops the trunk open for them. Gladio at least allows Prompto to lift the door all the way up, but the rest he insists on doing himself; shuffling the cooler, the bags, the chairs, the tent one by one into the back of the car, pushing them in with more force than is really necessary. Straining his muscles a little for added effect. He notices it’s working when he glances over to find that Prompto is watching the show with his knuckles shoved between his teeth, biting back a whine.

“Today, gentlemen,” comes Iggy’s warning from inside the car, and Gladio can’t hold back another grin.

“Yeah, yeah. You heard him, Princess.”

“...P-princess…? Woah!” Anything else Prompto could have said is lost in a startled gasp as Gladio’s arms - those massive, tattoo-covered lethal weapons - suddenly latch around his upper body. A rough jaw scratches his ear, a chuckle rumbles against his back, and then he’s being hoisted up off the ground like spare baggage. It’s terrifying. It’s thrilling. And he hopes to the gods no one notices the way he’s suddenly rock-hard in his pants.

“In the car ya go.” Prompto hadn’t even noticed they’d been moving, but now Gladio’s lifting him up and over the passenger side door and dropping him into the seat without so much as a warning. He exhales when he hits, bounces once, manages to catch hold of the dash to keep his balance. When he rights himself to throw Gladio a glare, he sees the Shield wink - actually wink! - at him on the way to the back.

Is he dreaming? Is he dead? Or could it be possible that Gladio is teasing him?

Heart thudding, he misses the disapproving look Ignis shoots the rearview mirror - and then they’re taking off.

All Prompto can hope for is lucking out on a hotel that night, because he’s going to need a long, cold shower all to himself. For at least half an hour.

He suddenly recalls the feeling of Gladio’s beard scratching up against his sensitive skin.

...Better make that forty-five minutes.

#promptio #this needs a real title #dirty thirsty thoughts #that will eventually lead to the best pounding of prompto's young life #stay tuned for smut #ffxv #final fantasy xv #myfic #daddyolusamicitia

[artistic-writer]

Remedy : A Captain Swan Fanfic

Authors: @artistic-writer / itrustyoutokillme

Tags: @ilovemesomekillianjones @thesschesthair @deathbycaptainswan @laschatzi @lifeinahole27 @rouhn @teamhook @roseyflush @yayimallamaagain @winterbaby89 @delightfully-difficult-pirate @kmomof4 @sdmh1977 @blowmiakisscolin (i hope i have got everyone, but please reblog to your pals so they get this!)

Notes: So here it is!  So sorry it took so long, but better late than never, right?  Pfft, DIY.  Big thank you to @deathbycaptainswan for letting me break her beta virginity ;)  And actually giving me the idea for the title, because i couldn’t think of one for a while.  And thank you to @thesschesthair for listening to me rant about how it needed to be smuttier and my awful day at work, even though she was dealing with her own shit. Thank you, love. This is for you, to wash away your ills ;) <3

Chapter Summary: Emma has a particularly thought provoking day at work but it is nothing her husband cannot fix.

Rating: E

Word Count:  6406 (sorry, not sorry)

AO3

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There was nothing quite like drawing a hot bath after a particularly long day. Emma had been practically dreaming of it all day. In fact, the only thing that would make it better would be if Killian had run it and offered her a pre bath massage to ease her aches. Sadly, Killian was out doing a spot of grocery shopping. It had been his day off today, so they had pre arranged his outing.

Today had been a tough one. Being the sheriff never was easy. Half the town found an outsider being the sheriff a personal affront, often snubbing her in the street. The other half welcomed her quietly, not making a fuss either way. A very select few would only deal with her husband, often seeing a woman in charge as an issue.

Emma had dealt with narrow minds all her life. It was nothing new to be ignored by a man. In her experience, the older the man, the more old fashioned he was and less open to her career choice. Today, Emma had visited one of those men. He was older than anyone else she had met in Storybrooke, and upon first meeting her, insisted she run back to the station and fetch Graham.

Emma had wondered for a good long while how he had managed to live in Storybrooke and not know of Graham’s demise. It had been so many years ago now, and if Emma had not been completely dumbfounded, she may have laughed. An apology had not soothed the man - who, as it turned out was not in need of the sheriff after all - instead, just ended up riling him up further.

His name was Godfrey. Surname unknown as he had rather offensively declined to give that information to a woman. Godfrey had insisted that there must be a man he could talk to about his complaint, but Emma had just given him a kind smile and shook her head. She was it, and after telling him such, he had unleashed a string of abuse towards her which made her reach for the cuffs on her hip.

Emma would never have arrested the old fool Because that’s what he was. A Fool. He was stuck in the past so far Emma wondered if he still thought he was in the Enchanted Forest. That was until he confirmed her suspicions and, finally relenting, had told her why he had sent a letter to the sheriff’s department. Godfrey did not and would not own a phone, so he was further perturbed by the fact it had taken the sheriff a few days to reach his property on the outskirts of the Storybrooke forest.

Ogres that’s what it was. Godfrey had seen ogres behind his house. Emma had refrained from rolling her eyes as she scribbled down nothing onto the cream pages of her thing, spiral bound notepad. Her pen was poised above the thick, off white paper and the second Godfrey had leaned in and whispered the single word, with fear buried deep in his heart, she had sighed. It was in that moment that Emma was certain Godfrey would become a problem.

It had taken her two hours to try and excuse herself from his property. At first, he did not want her there, and rather than try to explain the past, Emma had promised she would pass on her report to Graham. For a sad moment, Emma wondered if Godfrey had any family with him in Storybrooke, because clearly he was suffering from some sort of dementia related illness.

In an even sadder realisation, Emma probably knew the answer to her question was a resounding no and until he was a serious danger to himself or others, Killian and herself would have to answer every one of his letters with a smile and an open mind.

Next time, she would send Killian.

Emma reached into the water as it thundered from the large silver taps. They had remodeled the bathroom so that the tub was bigger and as such the taps had grown too. The tub was a large, white oblong with a slight reclined lip at one end. It was perfect for relaxing and perfect for two, which had been the point of the remodel.

The massive, chrome taps were situated near the side of the tub and plumbed in right next to the frosted glass of the nearby window. Emma rarely ever pulled the lever for the cold water when she ran a bath, instead letting the tub fill with the hot, splashing liquid and the room with its accompanying steam. Filling the room with a pore opening mist was almost as sensual as the bath sometimes.

Just to equal out her relaxation, Emma added a few drops of essential oil under the running water. Instantly her nostrils were filled with the scent of the floral lavender, the whole room suddenly smelling like a field of the bobbly, purple flowers. Emma hunched over, her back relaxing its upright position and letting the sound of the water overtake her. It was all she could hear and for a second, she was somewhere else.

When the bath was over half full, Emma leaned over the bluish water and turned off the tap. With a squeak, the water stopped, a few drips escaping the funnel shaped end and disappearing into the rest of the bath water. Emma ran her hand through the water once more, watching it coat her fingertips in its warmth.

Emma never had bubbles because she didn’t like the greasy feel it left on her skin. She always wanted her bath pure, pristine and as though it had just been drawn directly from an arctic glacier. Only warmer. Emma loved the heat against her skin, the tingle of the scorching pain that followed. Killian was the only reason she ever turned the cold tap on, because after so many years at sea, he preferred his bath drawn on the cooler side.

Slipping out of her robe, Emma moved to hang it on the back of the closed door. The entire room at eye level was a foggy haze from the steam, and she felt her skin become sticky in the created atmosphere. Her hair stuck to her brow where it was too short to tie back, and Emma reached up to release the rest of her ponytail. Her blonde, slightly curled tresses tumbled over her shoulders and Emma let out a sigh of relief.

She moved to the tub, her bare feet falling silent on the dark grey tiles. The floor was heated from underneath and the soles of her feet felt soothed by the warmth. Being sheriff involved a lot of walking, sometimes running, and Emma had learned long ago that a pair of flat shoes were far more practical than the heeled boots she used to wear. The room was silent apart from the dripping of the tap as it emptied its pipes, and Emma lifted her leg to swing it into the tub.

Instantly her skin itched from the heat. Her foot, ankle and lower calf burned, the searing hot water enveloping her aching bones and making her shudder. Emma held onto the opposite side of the tub edge, curling her fingers around the smooth, cool ceramic and gripping it for dear life as she lifted her other foot into the tub. This time the water seemed cooler against her skin, but soon her foot pinked to match the hue of her other.

Holding both sides of the tub in an iron grip, Emma leaned backward and slipped into the water. Boiling hot water splashed up her back and Emma quickly scratched at the skin to ease the burn, hissing through her teeth until her behind touched the smooth tub bottom. Emma’s fingers relaxed on the edge of the tub and she let her hands fall into the water, the intense sting of the hot water washing all of her worries.

Emma wasn’t sure how long she had been in the tub when she heard a soft knock on the door. She had reclined down the sloping side, the water lapping at her collarbone lazily as she breathed in and out, and she peeled her eyes open when she heard the soft click of the door latch. The wooden door opened with a tiny creak and revealed her husband, standing in the doorway with a worried smile.

“Hey,” She breathed, returning his smile tiredly. Emma looked small in the expansive tub and Killian often worried about her falling asleep and slipping beneath the surface.

“Hello, love,” he beamed, his worries subsiding. Emma noted he was still fully dressed, not having taken his coat off when he had returned, or leaving the shopping bags in the kitchen. Instead, it seemed that Killian had only wasted time opening the front door and had instead sought out his wife to make sure she was okay.

Killian moved further into the room and a whoosh of steam escaped out into the hall behind him. Emma felt a sudden chill against her heated skin and scooped some water into her hands and splashed it over her shoulders. Killian rested the grocery bag into the sink, the brown paper bag rustling against the leather of his jacket and he moved. He perched on the edge of the bath and let his fingers trail into the warmth of the water.

“Rough day?” He asked her sweetly, even though he could tell by her expression it had been.

Emma nodded, her eyes falling closed again and her fingers finding Killians under the water. Her knuckles bumped the side of the bath but any discomfort was soon gone when Killian smoothed his thumb over them.

“Would you like to talk about it?” Killian asked softly, looking over Emma’s entire body as its image rippled under the water. She was a beauty, there was no denying it, and he thought himself lucky every single day.

“Will you get old?” Emma asked, watching their hands idle with each other under the water. Her brow knitted together in a frown and she sighed heavily.

“Of course,” Killian assured her, squeezing her hand until she looked up at him again. He cocked his head to the side and his too long hair flopped with the movement. He gave her a confused look.

“I mean,” Emma began, her lips twisting sideways. “You are old, Killian…”

“Aye, I am,” Killian agreed quickly, hoping she would stop dwelling on his years and get to the point.

“But you still look so young,” Emma hoped he would understand what she meant as it seemed all of her words were failing her between her thoughts and her mouth.

Killian smiled warmly and lifted her hand from the water, tiny droplets of the lavender scented liquid running down her arm and dripping from her elbow back into the filled tub. He lifted her hand to his mouth and planted a soft, wet kiss to the back of it.

“I think, what you mean to ask, is how do I retain my devilishly handsome good looks, despite my considerable age?” Killian kissed her knuckles and thumbed over the ridge of her fingers. Emma nodded.

“I have traveled between many realms, and through many different eras,” Killian told her with a smile. “But I can assure you, in this time, in this place, I will age.” Killian gave her digits another squeeze and Emma looked up into his blue eyes. They were impossibly blue, like the sky, but the edge was shadowed by a darkness and flecks of grey littered the hue. “With you, love,” he assured her, preempting her next question. “I will age with you.”

Emma felt a little better about her troubled thoughts, but they had only been started by meeting Godfrey. The old man had clearly once lived through a horrible time period and now, even though he lived in a time where he was probably the safest he had ever been, he was losing his mind. Literally and figuratively. Godfrey was demented and had regressed to a time when he was most fearful.

“I met a man today,” Emma admitted suddenly, sitting forward in the bath. The water surged forward and lapped at the overflow, calming its waves around her body. Emma pressed her damp body to the side of Killian’s jeans and rested her head on his lap.

“Do I wish to know anymore?” Killian teased, combing his fingers through her damp hair. It was darker when wet, like the colour of dry straw, and he enjoyed its change in hue. Darker hair suited Emma, even if it would dry a much lighter shade.

Emma lightly slapped his knee and he chuckled. “An old man,” she corrected herself.

“I am an old man,” Killian smirked.

“You know what I mean,” Emma let the frustration into her voice, a sign Killian knew well. It meant he had to cease his jest and listen. Emma didn’t like to open up too often and it would have been more than easy for her to end their conversation right now.

“I’m sorry, love. Please continue. You met a man,” Killian prompted.

“Yes, a man. An old man, from the Enchanted Forest before the first curse.” Killian raised his eyebrows at her, impressed he had not met anyone from so long ago. Everyone in Storybrooke knew everyone, so he was intrigued.

“He wrote a letter to us, because he had seen ogres in the forest behind his house.”

Killian laughed. Ogres were impossible in this realm. “To us?”

“To the sheriff,” Emma remembered the way Godfrey had looked at her when he realised she was a woman and the sheriff. “To Graham, actually. He thinks Graham is still the sheriff.”

“Why did he pen a letter?”

Emma shrugged. “Well, I don’t think he has grasped the use of a phone.”

“And I presume there were no ogres in the forest behind his home?” Killian let his hand slip from her hair and rest on her shoulder where he danced his fingers over her skin.

“I think he is suffering from dementia,” Emma said sadly, her gaze drifting to a patch of damp on the grey tile floor.

Killian sighed and leaned forward, kissing the top of her head. Her hair smelled like lavender and he inhaled a little, letting his lips linger on her crown. “And this has you perplexed.”

Killian always knew what she was thinking and could read her mind almost as well as she could spot a lie. He had always been able to weed out the most obvious of her worries, even if they were not that obvious to herself, and instantly knew exactly what to say to make her feel better.

“It does,” Emma admitted.

“You think that when I am older, aged by this realm, I will somehow become unable to distinguish between what is and what was,” Killian hooked his finger under her chin and lifted her eyes to meet his. “Or that I will forget you.”

Emma nodded again. She felt like all she was doing was agreeing with his wisdom, but his kind, boyish smile soothed her. “A little,” she confessed, letting her eyes roam his.

Killian gave her one last twitch of a smile before he stood up and ran his hand through his hair. Emma wondered what he was doing for a second until he moved back towards the tub, his whole demeanor sultry and dark. “I assure you,” Killian began, stepping into the bathtub at the straight end. “I will always know you, Emma.”

Emma fell back against the slope of the tub, a grin spreading over her face. “Killian, what are you doing?” She giggled.

“Taking a bath with my wife,” he told her like it was the most obvious thing in the entire world.

Emma felt his shoes bump her feet and she pulled her legs up to her chest. Killian grabbed his hook, twisting it in its socket and releasing it from the hole, pulling it free with a click. He tossed it aside and it clattered against the floor, sliding across the tile with a bump until it hit the back of the door.

“You are insane,” Emma laughed harder, her vibrations causing the water to ripple. Killian gave her a wry smirk, wrenching his jacket back over his shoulders and then tossing it towards the sink. It hit the porcelain with a clink, the zip of his jacket hitting it first, and then fell to the floor anyway.

“Insanity has nothing to do with it,” Killian chuckled, his darkening eyes roaming over her body beneath the cooling water. Steam still swirled around her and Killian watched the water lap at the side of her breasts and her nipples harden.

“But you are dressed,” Emma chided him with a quirked brow.

“Aye,” Killian agreed darkly, unbuttoning his shirt with the fingers on one hand. Emma watched his fingers work, biting her bottom lip and sucking it into her mouth seductively. She could make out the planes of his chest and the thick, indulgent chest hair peeked into view as he worked his way down the shirt.

Killian watched her squirm and press her thighs together under the water. He knew what that meant; Emma was aroused. This was why they had widened the bathroom and installed a bigger bath. So Killian could show her exactly how he planned to remember every inch of her.

Reaching the last button, Killian let his shirt fall open. His shoes were now filled with the warm water and his toes squelched in his socks. It was an odd sensation, but he ignored it, instead content to watch Emma’s hungry eyes roam over the layer of hair on his chest. Her gaze stilled down by his waist when Killian moved to unbuckle his belt, pulling the leather through all the loops of his jeans and throwing it aside.

“You wear too many clothes,” Emma wiggled her eyebrows at him.

Killian dragged his hands through his chest hair, teasing his nipples into hard nubs that grazed the inside of his shirt edges. He moved to his shoulder, undoing the buckle of his brace and letting it fall slack against his back. “I am currently working to rectify this situation,” He said smoothly, pulling the brace and its straps free from his shirt, down through his sleeve and casting it aside as well.

“I can see that,” Emma sounded excited, her voice jumping higher each time a piece of his clothing flew across the room. She pressed her legs together again, feeling the familiar ache between her thighs roar to life under the water. “Would you like some help?”

Emma didn’t wait for his answer and leaned forward, thrusting her hands underneath the water and pulling on the string of his shoe lace. There was a little resistance because the fabric cord has swelled, but Emma made short work of them and pulled one boot from his foot. She held it up high, tilting it sideways and letting the water pour out of it back into the bath. Making short work of the other, she dropped them and his socks over the side of the tub and they bounced underneath the golden claw feet.

“Thank you kind lass,” Killian said smoothly, his bare feet now free from their soggy confines and rubbing the bottom of the tub.

Emma grinned up at him and laid back in the tub once more, the water lapping around her shoulders. Killian looked at her, his eyebrow raised mischievously. “No,” Emma warned, thinning herself out in the tub and tucking her legs between his feet.

“Aye, you mean,” he droned, his voice almost like a growl.

Killian dropped to his knees, the water in the bath surging forward and rushing in a huge wave over the lip of the bathtub. Emma squeaked, grabbing his shoulders as he towered over her and a second wave of water sloshed around her neck. The sound of water hitting tiles filled the room, first a huge splash and then tapering off into tiny drips as the level in the tub subsided.

“You’re going to flood the bathroom,” Emma scolded, running her hands down the front of his chest. His chest hair had collected droplets of water and tickled at her fingertips. Emma tilted her head back against the edge of the tub and grabbed the edges of his shirt, holding him to her.

“We are going to flood the bathroom, love,” Killian corrected her, dipping his head to lick the water from her collarbone.

Emma’s body reacted instantly, her back arching from the bottom surface of the tab. A rush of warm water filled the gap, heating her spine and she felt Killian’s hand dive under the water to grip her hip. His fingertips felt cold against her flushed skin, the metallic of his rings causing her to gasp at the contact.

“We just…,” Emma mewled, her throat turning dry when Killian’s mouth found her nipple that had crested the surface of the water. His tongue teased the hardened nub and he latched his lips to it hungrily, sliding his hand under Emma’s back and holding her chest to his face.

“Hush, love,” Killian whispered against the swell of her breast, nuzzling the valley of her bosom with his damp whiskers. Emma’s eyes rolled back in her head and she let out a sigh she didn’t even know she had waiting in her throat.

“But…,” Emma whimpered, fighting her brain when her hands slid back into the hair on his chest and flattened over his pecs.

Killian pulled his face from her skin and looked down at her. He gave her a wry smirk, letting her fall back into the water when he sat back on his heels, the heat in the room not enough to soothe the chill that flooded over her body. He rolled his shoulders backward, shrugging his arms out of his shirt, the material now a midnight blue from soaking up so much of the bath water. Again, Emma sucked on her bottom lip, watching the muscles of his abdomen flex and vibrate as he panted, tiny droplets of the now cooling water running over the surface of his wiry stomach covering.

“Tell me to stop,” He growled, bunching his shirt and throwing it across the room. It hit the back of the door with a wet slap and slid to the tiled floor with a similar noise.

Killian’s arousal was evident, his already skin tight jeans becoming even firmer against his skin and outlining it perfectly. He grabbed her ankle, lifting her leg out of the water and flashing a quick glance at the apex of her thighs, obscured by the ripple in the water. Anticipation thrummed through his entire body because he knew what was there. Killian knew where it was and what it tasted like. It was his treasure, and he had never needed a map to find it.

“You know I won’t,” Emma purred, following his lead and pressing the sole of her foot to his jean clad erection.

Killian trailed his hand down her leg, never breaking his heavy lidded stare away from hers, rolling his own lip between his teeth. He knew she wouldn’t say no, and even if she did, he could persuade her to reconsider. His fingers toyed with the button on his jeans and a surge of relief hit his groin as the pressure in his underwear evaporated into the steam filled room. Killian tugged on his fly, sliding it down slowly.

“Are you absolutely sure you want me to show you how much I am going to enjoy growing old with you?” Killian tickled the inside of her ankle again with his cleanly scarred nub and reached into his jeans to take himself in hand. He teased his length with a long, languid stroke. “I wouldn’t want to…”

“Shut up,” Emma growled, her voice changed with her own arousal as she watched him tease himself. The patch of hair over Killian’s pubic bone glistened with bath water in the dimly lit room, and Emma felt a surge of adrenaline.

“But, you said…,” Killian teased, his boyish grin expanding as Emma’s foot hooked around his hip and attempted to tug him towards her. He held fast, knees painfully planted on the bottom of the tub between her legs now that Emma had moved them on either side of his thighs. Her smooth, naked legs pressed against the side of his wet jeans, but he was sure he could feel the electric of her skin as if there was no barrier.

“Fuck what I said,” Emma panted, slipping her hand beneath the water and down her taut stomach. Her fingertips bounced over her ripped abs, down over her lightly furred mound and she sucked in a much needed breath as she slipped a single finger into the slickness between her thighs.

Killian pulled his hand from his jeans, pushing them roughly down over his hips and letting his erection spring free. It bobbed against his wet stomach, and he tucked the elastic waistline of his boxers underneath his scrotum. He fell forward, seizing Emma’s mouth with his, his lips finally soothing the fire spreading all over her skin that yearned for his touch.

Emma felt his member brush her inner thigh, his hand snaking into the damp tendrils of her hair and stretching out over the back of her head. He held her face to his, tongue delving deep into the heat of her mouth, running over the ridges of Emma’s teeth with each swipe. A moan came from Emma’s throat and Killian felt his arousal twitch between her legs, begging to be allowed home.

Killian broke the kiss only when he needed to breathe, forehead pressing against Emma’s and his thumb caressing the soft skin of her chin. Emma peeled her eyes open, drowsy green orbs searching his expectantly. There was nothing behind the blue except love. Killian had fought for their love, never giving up on finding his way back to her each and every time they had been ripped apart. Fate had been the cruelest of mistresses, but with their marriage came their new beginning, and their chance to build a new path to everlasting happiness.

Emma’s hand cupped his cheek and Killian leaned into her touch, his own eyes only closing briefly enough to memorize the feel of her touch on his skin. Killian’s scruff tickled her palm and Emma smiled at him sweetly, the cooling water lapping around their bodies in the expansive tub.

“Killian?” Her voice had changed again, the desire subsiding and letting in her misgivings. He shifted a little and the water jumped out of the bath again, slapping against the floor around them.

“I’m alright, love,” he assured her quickly, angling his hips so that his tip brushed her entrance. Emma groaned, sliding herself further down into the water, yearning for him to fill her and make her feel whole.

“Then are you going to fuck me or what?” She wiggled her eyebrow at him and giggled under him, her chest jiggling side to side with the slosh of the water. She lifted her knee slightly under him, pushing her foot into the apex of his jeans and pushing them down his legs. They balled at his feet, and Killian pulled one leg free in sync with her movements.

Killian inhaled hard, his hardened length shifting by itself once more and brushing over Emma’s sensitive clit. She arched her back at the sensation and Killian raised his eyebrow at her seductively. “As the lady wishes,” he purred, pushing into her scorching core with a single thrust of his hips.

The hot, rigid, velvety length of him slipped into Emma like it was a missing puzzle piece. Her body reacted instinctively, her back spasming and arching off of the tub floor. Killian buried himself inside of her, moving slow and moving deliberately. Emma’s entire body relaxed under his assault, her muscles fluttering around him as he coaxed her into a heightened state of arousal.

Killian had memorized the way Emma felt around his length. There were times when she felt tighter, or harder, but right now she was perfect. The ribbed walls of her cervix gripped at his member as her muscles clenched around him, pulling him deeper towards her womb each time. Killian’s impressive length and girth stretched her with a pleasurable pain that made Emma whimper and Killian grow harder.

“Oh...fuck…,” Emma gasped when Killian angled his hips just a bit, the whole act easier said than done in the tub. His body pressed to hers, sinking her back into the depths of the clear, cooling water, and he smirked when he felt her shudder beneath him.

“That feel good, love?” Killian pulled out and watched her face twist, her mouth hanging open and her eyes squeezed shut. Emma’s hand on his arm was almost strangling his bicep, her fingernails turning white under her grip.

Emma bit her bottom lip and whined, a soft, animal like pleading moan vibrating deep in her throat as Killian pushed inside once more. Emma desperately wanted to open up her legs, widen his access but the sides of the bath made it almost impossible. Killian’s shallow thrusts were driving her insane, her climax raging behind her g-spot, begging to be released.

“More…,” Emma sighed incoherently. “I want more of you inside…”

Killian’s own arousal peaked a little, his belled tip slick and coated in Emma’s juices as it slid effortlessly inside of her. He was eager for her to find her end first, to fall so he could watch the way she disappeared into nothingness tethered only to him. He was her reality and he would bring her back every time.

Killian slipped a hand under the water, teasing it down the side of Emma’s body. His blunt fingernails scraped over the side of her breasts so lightly that Emma shivered under his touch. The mixture of a tickle and a tease gave her body pause to react, and her already erect nipples stretched even further against his delectably rough chest hair. Killian’s hand slipped under the swell of her buttocks and he lifted her leg, hooked her heel into the small of his naked back.

The newly opened Emma made for easier access to the bundle of her nerves, and Killian planted his bare feet on the flat end of the tub and pushed forward. His entire weight fell into command behind his thrust and his pubic bone slammed itself into Emma’s clit. White flashed behind her eyes and she squeaked, her hand erupting from the water to clutch the back of Killian’s head.

Emma went rigid, her orgasm rocking her to her very soul. She tried to speak, to tell him how amazing it felt, but her words failed her. There was a connection between her brain and her mouth that had been severed by her climax, and all she could do was whimper as Killian slowed his thrusts almost to a stop inside of her. Emma pulled on Killian’s hair, wrenching his head to her neck in a silent invitation to caress the skin there with his kiss.

Killian knew every single way Emma reacted to his touch. He knew what she wanted and when she wanted it. Right now, Emma wanted his mouth on her, and Killian obliged his wife, kissing down her neck and then sucking long, hard, open mouth kisses to the top of her breast. Killian felt Emma ebb beneath him, the remnants of her orgasm still leaving her sensitive to his touch, but having faded enough that she could speak now.

“God...Killian…,” she breathed, relaxing her hand in his hair and soothing his irritated scalp with a stroke through his dampened locks.

“Aye?” He grinned innocently, cock still buried deep inside of her and slowly working her body into its second frenzy.

“Don’t…,” Emma warned pathetically, her breath hitching in her throat when he lifted her hips and a fresh set of marvelous feelings invaded her body.

Killian inched out of her again, feeling her relax under his tirade. “Don’t?” he prompted, planting a kiss to the corner of her open mouth and inching himself into her tighter, fluttering core. “Don’t what, love?”

Emma’s eyes fluttered closed, her eyelids still bright and transparent from her first orgasm. She gulped hard and slapped her hands to Killian’s shoulders, scraping her fingernails over the bulge of his physique. Killian grinned against her skin, lips and tongue tasting every inch of her face and neck like he would never be able to again.

“Don’t...Don’t fucking stop…”

Killian growled, a primal urge overtaking him somewhere deep down in his being, and he began to move faster. Emma’s words leaving her mouth on a whimpering plea sent his blood surging through his veins, straight to his arousal, his own climax tingling at in the pit of his stomach. Emma’s entire body tightened under his sexual violation, her mouth only capable of begging for more.

“Fuck…”

Emma’s expletive made him shudder, his breath catching in his throat. Killian swallowed desperately, eager to remove the lump that had formed in his throat from the lust. There was never a dull moment with Emma, and with a forceful drive of his hips, Killian silently thanked her for convincing him to remodel the bathroom.

“Killian!” Emma squeaked, his name tumbling from her lips as he ploughed into her harder. Her back hit the bottom of the tub with a dull thud and her arms wrapped around his massive torso. Her hands splayed over his shoulder blades, the muscles of his back rippling under her clutch.

Killian made sure he entered her completely, the hilt of his erection hitting the bundle of nerves just inside of her on every thrust. Emma jerked her hips to meet his, her head thrashing from side to side, her cries echoing in the warm, tiled room.

“That’s it, Emma,” Killian panted roughly, his chest burning with exertion. He lifted his body from hers, hand leaving her skin to grip at the lip of the bathtub behind her head. He needed more leverage. He needed to totally fill her. Killian needed to make sure that Emma knew he would always be there for her and with her.

Killian pulled hard at the side of the tub, only stopping his thrusts when he was buried deep within her and could go no more. Emma screamed, her already tender body beginning to climb to another peak. Emma always had her most powerful orgams after her first, and Killian watched for the tell tale signs. Only when Emma was sated, her entire body unresponsive and numb from pleasure, would Killian let himself fall.

“Killian, I’m coming!” Emma squealed, her voice much higher than before and her body stiffening beneath him.

Killian felt her hot, aching core begin to tremble and quiver over his erection and his vision went black behind his eyelids. Emma wrapped her legs around his waist, letting him slide into her on weak, jerking thrusts as he spilled his seed all over her inner walls. Emma’s walls pulsated around him, milking him for every last drop he had to offer during his climax. Killian groaned, blindly falling to bury his face beside hers, careful not to fall beneath the turbulent surface of the water.

When their peaks subsided and they were spent, Killian moved first, the tightness of his wet jeans finally causing him discomfort. He let himself slip from her folds and Emma wailed at the loss of contact when he pushed himself to sit back on his heels. Killian ran his hand through his hair, pushing it from his face and then lightly scratched at the whiskers on his chin.

“Oh my god,” Emma rolled her eyes in the back of her head, a gentle laugh escaping her lips behind a smile she could not get rid of.

“No, love, it’s just me,” Killian winked at her.

“You’re amazing,” Emma smiled sweetly, unable to resist trailing her toes through the hair on his upper thigh.

“Just purging my wife of her ills.” Killian’s jeans were tangled by his ankle now and so he pushed himself to his feet and almost barrel rolled from the tub. Emma laughed and Killian shed the remainder of his clothes quickly. They hit the floor with a slap and he stood before her gloriously naked and unashamed.

Killian felt Emma’s eyes roam over his torso, down to his still semi hard length and then back up to his eyes. He quirked his brow at her and tickled the patch of skin behind his ear with a nervous scratch. “See something you like?” He smirked boyishly.

Emma’s body still tingled from the intensity of her second orgasm, but she had an insatiable appetite for Killian. Her eyes rested on his mouth, his thin, pink lips stretched into a salacious smile that she imagined elsewhere and then dropped to his imposing crotch. “You know I do,” she purred, tapping her lips with a single, slippery finger. Her tongue darted out to lick the water from her own skin and Killian felt his groin twitch.

“Maybe,” He began, striding towards her and reaching into the tub. Killian’s hand broke the surface of the water and fished for the silver, metallic plug, pulling it free and hearing the gargle of the drain as the water rushed into the plughole. He offered her his hand and pulled her to her feet, helping her step from the tub and only the pile of discarded clothes near by. Emma’s skin had pruned, ripples forming on her fingertips and toes, but she ignored the odd sensation of her deformed fingerprints against his hand.

“Maybe?” She prompted gently, flattening her wet, naked body to his, her hand fanning out over his heart. It beat faster in his chest and Emma knew at that moment they would get no sleep tonight. Killian pushed some of her hair behind her ears, the dark straw like tresses beginning to dry and curl, and caressed her chin with his thumb.

“Maybe we should flood the bedroom,” Killian growled and seized her lips for a ferocious kiss.

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[waxontape-blog]

Not Fade Away: A Look Back at Buddy Holly and The Crickets

The relevance of musical aptitude has waxed and waned with what the general public has decided is in fashion. As a result, one could argue that the mainstream musical landscape has seen yearlong talent droughts more than once or twice before, and it would not be a difficult point to argue. Coinciding with the explosion of MTV, artist and band members had to present evocative visuals and in no uncertain terms be physically attractive-- talent was an added bonus. In the 1990s, feelings were "in," and it became trend to be introspective; in 2017, it is social media which dictates an artist's commercial successes. However, at the earliest on-set of rock and roll, the rules for pop music presentation were still developing, with racial politics and an icy reception from the jazz industry playing an important role. 

Just shortly before four unknown young men from Liverpool, England would take the world by force with their accessible sound and rebellious creativity, another four young men from Lubbock, Texas were busy laying down the foundation for what would become the rock and roll revolution. Niki Sullivan, Jerry Allison, Joe B. Maudlin, and Charles Holley were studio musicians merely dabbling in the only type of true indulgence teenagers had at that time. Blues and rockabilly, country and folk-- already established genres in their own right-- would be used as raw clay for the four boys, who would craft a concoction that would revolutionize the adolescent's very place in society.

But before then, a landmark invention would have to hit shelves in order to get their unique blend to the masses.

With the end of World War II came the advent of the personal radio, the forefather of the Walkman, Discman, Minidisc Player, the iPod, and now the smartphone and streaming services. These small, compact radios were a far cry away from the larger beasts installed in parlors and dens across the world. Which program to listen to on which evening was no longer decided upon by democracy; rather, the sole owner and operator had control over what he or she filled her ears with. This practice had only ever been seen before with the mass production of books. In a world where America had been the heroes in Europe (and the ogres in Asia), life for the average teenager meant being bombarded with omnipresent, brightly painted advertisements, new technology, the promises of travel with family-sized camper vans, the sweet tastes of new candies and ice cream from hamburger joints, and all of it still very much constricted by the need to be "one of us." Regardless, it was the first time in American history that the standard, family-centric paradigm was broken-- the average teenager no longer needed to "share," so to speak.

The personal radio, merely an empty vessel, would soon work its way into the hands of every child and teenager and became a revolution, but it needed the content to propel it forward. And rock and roll, blues, country, and danceable R&B became the software needed to break the mold. The days of jazz pop were slowly being eclipsed, its subversive counter culture once perceived as dangerous was more common place than ever before. The hot, new thing by the middle of the 1950s became records with an electric edge to them. Although tame by today's standards, the melodies and guitar riffs (often adapted and retooled from blues and country-folk origins),present on these recordings were integral to music evolution and still hold their own today.

The combination of Sullivan, Allison, Maudlin, and Holley proved to be reactive, and lucrative. Charles Holley, a charismatic front man with boy-next-door looks, was quick to show his licks from the word go. The boys formed as The Crickets, following the natural dissolution of another band, The Three Tones, and released The Chirping Crickets in 1957, a mixture of original material and blues/R&B covers featuring tight musicianship and impressive performance. 1958's almost immediate follow-up would be the result of a slick marketing ploy, catapulting the front man into the realm of supreme celebrity. The record would bear his now-iconic stage name: Buddy Holly.

Albums were an entirely different beast in the 1950s in comparison to today, and thus these two projects cannot be analyzed separately. Although thematic projects had been ushered into the mainstream music canon by Frank Sinatra, who is often credited with creating the earliest examples of concept albums, rock and roll was a newborn baby rapidly stumbling towards the age of growing pains. As such, Buddy Holly is not an album that was assembled with any great attention to detail. In reality, it is the second slice of the Crickets pie, released under Holly's name in order to capitalize on the band's signature sound and Holly's ever-growing popularity. Also, it was a clever way around contractual obligations by signing the band as two separate acts. The Chirping Crickets and Buddy Holly are two sides of the very same coin, the former a slightly more distant affair in comparison to the latter's more targeted presentation. Whereas The Chirping Crickets is far more general in its approach, the songs on Buddy Holly seem to be directing themselves at a teenage audience while simultaneously marketing the man for whom the record is named.

The two albums are neck and neck in terms of their quality, which stand out as arguably the best survived recordings of the whole of the 1950s. The range of fidelity on these records is astounding for the time period, with raw experimentation placed  right at the forefront. Although the songs seem to draw their inspirations from a myriad of sources (from classical to lullaby to rhythm and blues), they are defined by the band's willingness to push forth into unknown territory. This is perhaps best evinced by the simplistic and sweet "Everyday," which perfectly encapsulates Holly's charisma and ability to adapt his voice to particular song styles. This evergreen is defined by the rather interesting combination of certain elements:  acoustic and bass guitars, a typewriter, Holly's voice, and the gentle slapping of hands on Jerry Allison's knees. Its lack of decoration is strong evidence that less is, in many cases, more. It is also at stark contrast to the up-tempo rendition of "Ready Teddy," on which Buddy snarls with the gusto and experienced snap of a man thirty years his senior.

Despite not being the most artistic of albums, Buddy Holly is a non-stop disc of action, collecting within its short half-hour run time some of Holly and The Crickets' most important material. The classic (albeit rather overrated musically) "Peggy Sue" defines golden oldies in today's society, and the definitive reading of  Sonny West's "Rave On" is a compact rock bullet to the ears. But elsewhere on this album, the deeper cuts ruminate and delight with their slick production and perfectly crafted melodies. From the jazzy, bass and piano--driven "Look at Me" to the rather sensual "Words of Love," the material present here is nothing if not far more advanced than the average pop songs on radio of the day. Whereas much of the standard fair was uncompromisingly pop or uncompromisingly rock, The Crickets managed to marry the genres, creating the blueprint for those who came after them.

The influence from black musicians of the era is full and complete on both The Chirping Crickets and Buddy Holly, which (as opposed to later-era acts like The Beach Boys and at times The Beatles) do not rob-- they contribute to the sound of the day. These four men were deep in the trenches, their youthful energy spilling over across two marvelous pieces of wax. Unfortunately, both of these records are meager when taken on the whole. Due to the nature of the recording industry at that time, much of Holly's best work (both with and without The Crickets) is not present on these two canon albums. Neither houses the spectacularly sexy "Well, All Right," the signature "That'll Be the Day," or "Blue Days, Black Nights," that last of which John Fogerty would later lift for his Blue Moon Swamp album in 1997.

There is a wealth of fantastic material to discover when searching through demos and one-off singles, in addition to Decca Records's That'll Be the Day, the unofficial third LP in Holly's canon, released only in response to The Crickets' later success on Coral and Brunswick. There's the downright sassy, almost baroque-pop "It Doesn't Marry Anymore," the  near tropical stylings of "Heartbeat," and the bittersweet sequel "Peggy Sue Got Married" tucked in between all the flash and sizzle of Holly's biggest hits. They are also important clues for where Holly would have taken his musical adeptness into the 1960s, had he lived to help define them. His final recordings, unfortunately dubbed after his death, serve as our last glimpses into what the future could have been. At times, they are difficult to listen to.

Many of Holly's hits would be defined by the long shadow cast by his untimely death during the Winter Dance Party Tour in 1959, with "True Love Ways," an unreleased ballad from 1958 written for Holly's wife, perhaps the most heart-breaking of them all: "Sometimes we'll sigh / Sometimes we'll cry / And we'll know why just you and I know true love ways." These posthumous hits, along with some of his most experimental and/or forgotten material, would be collected and released on various compilations, the best of which being Decca Records's comprehensive triple-disc set The Very Best of Buddy Holly & The Crickets and the rare but complete Not Fade Away. 

Today, Holly is regarded as one of the great grand-fathers of modern rock and roll, and nobody would be wrong in this declaration. However, it is important to note the important songwriting contributions from Jerry Allison and record producer Norman Petty. Between the three of them, they are responsible for the band's most iconic and important works. With Holly's tragic and untimely death (now coined "The Day the Music Died") we, as listeners, lost the original trajectory for pop music in forms we can only imagine. Would there be a The Beatles? A Duran Duran? A Madonna? A Janet Jackson? A Radiohead? Would disco have risen to power in the 1970s, and would synthesizers had taken the 1980s by storm? We cannot say, but one thing is for sure-- Buddy Holly and his bandmates had a lot more to offer the world that we could ever fathom. Although his career began and ended during the most embryonic phase of rock and roll’s fairly short existence, The Crickets ushered the genre towards excellence and informed every act who came after them.

Click here to buy material from Buddy Holly and The Crickets.

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