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monstersdownthepath · 11 months

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Monster Spotlight: Implacable Stalker

+2 CR

Any creature with an Intelligence of 3 or higher; usually an Outsider, Humanoid, or Monstrous Humanoid

Horror Adventures, pg. 238-239

Bit of a different one today; rather than a monster, this is actually a little review of a monster Template, something we’ve just barely spoken of on this blog, and often as one being offered as a reward for divine service. A Template is a bunch of stats and abilities that can be stapled onto any existing monster to give it some extra zing, doing everything from allowing a DM to give their favorite monster some new tactics to giving out new surprises to familiar monsters that every player thinks they know how to counter. Templates are great “plug and play” ways to add extra threat to an existing encounter, often doing in just 1 or 2 extra CR what would normally require 6 or 7 class levels. I highly recommend them!

Granted, the players suffering from recurring nightmares about their encounter with the Implacable Stalker likely won’t be as enthusiastic about the whole thing, but what were they expecting going to the Lake of Crystals, or buying property in Faddonhield? Really, it’s their fault.

Putting this under a cut because it got a little longer than I thought it would!

The Implacable Stalker Template turns any monster it’s slapped onto into the quintessential nigh-invincible slasher movie villain, giving them a pile of stats and skill bonuses (most notably +8 to Intimidation checks, which is important), an immense number of defensive abilities (DR 5/--! 10 points of Resistance to every element!!), and a bunch of tools that are literally Pathfinder translations of horror movie narrative convenience! What do I mean by that? Well, first off, do you know how in slasher movies, people seem to lose all semblance of problem solving ability once the killer is near? That’s displayed by the Stalker’s Fear Aura, which causes any and all creatures with 5 or less HD to automatically become frightened if they come within 60ft of the horror. A successful save doesn’t negate the fear entirely, causing them to become shaken instead. Any creature with more than 5 HD is slightly less afraid; success on their save renders them protected from the aura’s effects, and failure only causes them to become shaken. However, leaving and then re-entering the Stalker’s aura forces another save; there’s no 24 hour immunity! Don’t run away and come back to try and save anyone, you fool! Then again, the more likely scenario is that you run until you think you’re safe, only for it to eventually catch up.

It’ll take a while to do that, though. In a move I find hysterical but also fitting, a Stalker’s movespeed is dropped by 10ft (to a minimum of 20), so it always moves slower than a human running away from it at full speed, giving it the menacing yet inexorable stroll of famous killers... And just like Jason Voorhees in the increasingly terrible sequels, no matter how far away you get or how many barriers you put between yourself and the killer, as soon as no one’s looking at the Stalker it turns out it’s Right Behind You, having teleported upwards to 480ft to any point adjacent to a creature it’s aware of that’s suffering from any level of fear (shaken, frightened, or panicked). This teleportation is a swift action it can use every 1d6 rounds, allowing the Stalker to use its full attack against whatever victim it’s just jumpscared and more than likely ripping them to pieces.

To really set the mood for an Implacable Stalker, I recommend a DM place several disposable red-shirt NPCs along with the party, allowing them to be picked off one by one by the Stalker or taken out by its jumpscare. Make sure, however, that at least one of the deaths happens ‘on screen,’ i.e. where the party can see it, because the Stalker can use its swift action to put on a Gory Display every time it manages to slay a creature. This horrific showing of violence can either enhance the horror’s Str and Con for a short time, restore a chunk of HP to it, give it back one of its expended spell-likes... or cause a single creature within 60ft (which it doesn’t even have to be aware of) to lose any fear immunity it may have. This last one is important if you want it to be a real threat, because otherwise a Paladin or caster with Unbreakable Heart or a party with the humble Calm Emotions can ignore half the Implacable Stalker’s kit.

Circling back to the “horror movie narrative convenience” and combining it with “half the stalker’s kit,” we have the slasher’s ability to sniff out its victims no matter where they’re hiding, except in Pathfinder it’s called Sense Fear. This radius of 120ft detection allows the Stalker to precisely target the exact spot a creature suffering from any level of fear is hiding in, allowing it to teleport to them or threateningly trundle towards them... or pretend to have lost them, only to burst through whatever barrier they thought was safe. Sense Fear even works through most barriers, allowing the Stalker to wait on the other side of a wall to smash through it and grab anyone it finds.

And of course, slashers are always significantly stronger until the Final Girl finally gets over her fear and attacks it back... but until then, every additional character is just another point of weakness. The Implacable Stalker is already tremendously hard to put down, getting +6 Con from the Template, along with Toughness for even more extra HP and a jaw-dropping +6 extra natural armor, but the Terrifying Inevitability of the horror cranks it from “resilient” to “juggernaut” so long as it can see or hear a creature suffering any level of fear. Terrifying Inevitability doubles its insurmountable DR from 5 to 10, gives it an enormous amount of Spell Resistance (16 + its CR), and grants it Fast Healing equal to its Hit Dice, assuring the fearful fool it has at its mercy won’t deal any lasting damage, if they deal damage at all.

I’m recommending the Stalker template with the understanding that it has a VERY good chance of making an encounter unfun rather than exhilarating or terrifying, so use it very carefully, and don’t just drop it on players like a random encounter; build it up, make an environment and a whole setting for it, and make sure players have some method to escape it or finally, heroically fight back against it. Perhaps finding a scroll of Calm Emotions is what allows the party to turn the tides against it? Not only does the suppression of fear prevent the Stalker from turning up Right Behind You, but shuts off its Terrifying Inevitability and prevents it from detecting invisible or hiding creatures with Sense Fear, allowing the party to get the jump on it and finally kill it for good.

Just make sure you double-tap it. Like all good slashers, there’s always a chance it’ll get in one final jumpscare due to its Diehard feat! And worse, it may still live on via Nightmare Resurrection, haunting every victim who witnessed its death for weeks on end via terrifying, traumatic nightmares until they succeed three saves... or the Implacable Stalker comes back, returned to life and full health just in time for the sequel.

You can read more about it here.

#Monster Spotlight #Pathfinder #Dungeons and Dragons #CR 1 to 5 #CR 6 to 10 #CR 11 to 15 #CR 16 to 20 #putting it under each one so it shows up

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grailfinders · 7 months

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Grailfinders Viewers' Choice #19: Riesbyfe Stridberg

today on Grailfinders we’re heading to the bathroom to play some Melty Blood and build a better beef sandwich. that’s right, we’re making Riesbyfe Stridberg today, the semi-immortal shielder senpai who runs around with a freakin’ pile driver strapped to her arm.

speaking of shielders, I’m taking everything I learned from building Mash into this one, so she should end up a lot more streamlined. rule one: actually trying to make a shield-based build in D&D sucks, so we’re stealing a bunch of defensive stuff from elsewhere and reflavoring them as being part of our weapon instead.

now normally someone who gets most of their power from their weapon to the point of immortality would be a shoe-in for the warlock class, but unfortunately Riesbyfe is actually not that great with magic. so much so that she only has one level in Tempest Cleric to pick up some magical defenses. The rest of the levels are all going into Kensei Monk so we can turn a spear into a pile driver. and also to learn some sick fighting game combos.

check out her build breakdown below the cut, or her character sheet over here!

Lineage and Background

so, let’s get the rough part out of the way first. you were a human once, but since then your soul has been ripped out of the aether by some magical bullshit that brings rumors to life. that means you’re a Reborn, giving you +1 Dexterity, Constitution, and Wisdom. you also have your Ancestral Legacy giving you proficiency in Arcana and Persuasion. the former to know just about anything at all about magic in your setting, and the latter because despite your general disposition you fooled one of the smarter people in this series into thinking you’re well put together. you also have a Deathless Nature so you don’t need to eat, sleep, or breathe, and you have advantage against poison and death saves, plus resistance to poison damage. finally, your Knowledge of a Past Life lets you add a d6 to your skill checks every once in a while as you remember stuff from your time as the Dust of Osiris. I apologize now if I get any lore wrong, nasuverse stuff is weird and I’m not good enough at fighting games to get this info firsthand. if I say anything dumb, blame the wiki. …it kind of makes it weird that they bring up Gamaliel’s immortality thing in-game if its user is already dead, but w/e.

you’re also an Acolyte from all your time in church, giving you proficiency in Insight and Religion. sometimes things are simple in the nasuverse. not often, but sometimes.

Ability Scores

your highest score needs to be Dexterity. I know your shield’s got some oomph to it, but fighting games are more about reflexes than raw power. you also take “woman of the cloth” way too seriously, and aren’t wearing any armor in-game. after that, you’ll need plenty of Constitution. you tank by standing still and hoping the piece of metal you’re holding will stop everything from killing you. having more health as a backup plan is just good sense. thirdly, Wisdom. your magic isn’t great and your animal handling is atrocious, but you need to keep your head on a swivel if you’re going to block everything around you. our Strength is very low considering you punch with “up to two tons of force”, but we don’t need strength for damage, and we’ll get some extra oomph later. that means your Intelligence is just okay, and we’re dumping Charisma. you’re kind of a mess, and Neco-arcs hate you. I’m sorry, that’s just how it is.

Class Levels

1. Monk 1: you’re very physical, obviously we’re starting as a monk. doing so gives you proficiency in Strength and Dexterity saves, as well as Acrobatics and Athletics to further dunk on all the nerds you fight.

your Unarmored Defense adds your wisdom modifier to your AC as long as you don’t wear armor or shields, which ironically is fine for this build. Gamliel is more of a super-unique weapon anyway, even if it can block attacks. (for simplicity’s sake we’re calling it a spear here though.)

you also learn some Martial Arts- again, as long as you don’t put on armor or shields, you get the following benefits: you can use Dexterity in place of strength for most attacks, and you always deal at least a d4 of damage, which will grow as you level up. also, if you attack with your action, you can attack with your bonus action as well, getting your combo game started early.

2. Monk 2: At level two, you can harness your Ki for even more fighting game “shmovement”- you get your monk level in ki points every short rest, and you can spend one on your turn to either attack twice, dodge, disengage, or dash as a bonus action, with the last two also doubling your jump distance as well for the aerial game. While the exact math varies based on how high your AC is compared to the enemies you’re fighting, disadvantage from dodging usually makes hitting you 25% less likely, as opposed to the flat 10% of a physical shield. Thus, your weapon is now a better shield than the real deal, if one that requires work to use.

You can also attune to a Dedicated Weapon this level, turning it into a monk weapon with all the associated benefits at the cost of an hour of meditation every day. Reborn already sleep less than other ancestries, so this is practically a moot point. Now if you ever get your hands on a real Gamliel in-game, you’ll be able to use it just as well as the fake one we’ve been using. At least, you will shortly.

For now, you can also bask in your new Unarmored Movement. As long as you follow the rules previously laid out in levels one and two, you gain additional movement speed every turn. Again, this starts at a 10’ bonus now, and grows as you level up. You’d think this wouldn’t be important in a game where the you fight in rooms that wouldn’t even allow for social distancing, but positioning is very important in these games.

3. Monk 3: At third level Gamliel kicks into high gear as you become a Kensei monk, setting yourself down the Path of the Kensei. You can now pick any two Kensei Weapons from the weapons list, so if Gamliel is considered its own thing in your campaign, you now have access to it immediately. It’s sad that this gets rid of the lore-friendly hour of work each morning, but you can always do that anyways as roleplay. The other weapon has to be a ranged one, and both of them will count as monk weapons for you, and gain access to the later features of this class. You can pick more as you level up, but again, we’re here entirely for this shieldspear.

While holding your spearshield, you can make an Agile Parry by making an unarmed attack during your attack action. As long as you hold Gamliel this round, you will have a +2 bonus to your AC- again, just as much as a regular shield. with this, not only can you add this to a bonus action dodge, but the added AC actually makes your dodge even more effective. now that’s what I call a c-c-c-combo!

You also learn the Way of the Brush and how to make a Kensei’s Shot, but the former is just a skill proficiency for roleplay and the latter only adds damage to ranged attacks, neither of which do much in a fighting game.

However, this is not all a third level monk learns. you can now Deflect Missiles as a reaction, reducing the damage of a ranged weapon attack and possibly launching the arrow back at your opponent if you reduce the damage to zero. This is our first counterattack option, and while it’s situational, it’s also very funny.

4. Monk 4: It would probably be “smart” of us to use this first Ability Score Improvement to improve your abilities directly. However, if you’re going to be using your fists in your combos from here on out, it’s best that they’re worthy of using. With that in mind, grab the Crusher feat for a +1 bonus to Constitution, as well as some extra power in your punchers. With this feat, you can move a creature up to one size larger than you five feet in any direction once per turn, and when you score a critical hit, all attacks against them are with advantage until the start of your next turn. The latter is nice, but we’re here specifically for the former, allowing you to knock creatures into the air for combos or beat them into a corner for fewer means of escape. Punching is required to turn a spear into a shield- we might as well make it fun in the process.

Fourth level monks also learn to Slow Fall, using their reaction to reduce their falling damage by five times their level- right now, this means you can fall a maximum of 39’ without taking any damage. I don’t think any fighter can juggle you that high in the air, but I’m sure Arcueid will think of something.

5. Monk 5: at fifth level monks can really dish out the pain thanks to their Extra Attack each action and their increased martial arts die. they can also turn any melee attack into a Stunning Strike to open up their real combo game- if the target fails their constitution save, they can’t move or take actions or reactions, they fail strength and dexterity saves automatically, and most importantly all attacks against them have advantage. this takes a ki point to even try, but it lasts until the end of your next turn, giving you plenty of time to keep the combo going.

6. Cleric 1: Now that we have your basic combos down, it’s time we learn how to guard. as a Tempest Cleric, there is no in-game justification for being here. You could certainly stretch and point out how God made it rain forty days and nights or whatever, but we’re here entirely for two things. one: Spells. you can cast and prepare them using your Wisdom modifier, and they’re great fun.

But first, your cantrips. Light is great, because every time someone pulls out their special move the screen gets dark for a second. If you want yours to actually hit, you have to see what you’re doing. Also pick up Guidance and Resistance to survive just about everything, including having your tournament played in a water closet.

As a tempest cleric you learn Fog Cloud and Thunderwave for free, but we’re here for Shield of Faith, which gives you +2 AC for up to ten minutes with concentration. Now you have a physical and magical component to your shield, making it twice as effective as the norm.

That being said, the other reason we’re here is for a more typical counterattack. When an enemy invokes the Wrath of the Storm by attacking you in melee, you can react to force a dexterity saving throw, dealing lightning or thunder damage to them, or only half if they succeed. You can do this twice a day for now, but it will increase as your wisdom improves.

7. Monk 6: At sixth level, monks expand their horizons thanks to their Ki-Empowered Strikes giving them the ability to punch anyone without having to worry about nonmagical damage resistances. As a kensei monk, this also applies to your shield as you become One with the Blade. Your Magic Kensei Weapons allow you to pierce resistances, and you can make Deft Strikes, spending one ki point a turn to deal an extra martial arts die of damage on one attack. It’s not quite a piledriver yet, but it’s a start.

8. Monk 7: Seventh level monks have an even stronger shield, with their Evasion preventing all damage from successful dexterity saves, just like the Shield Master feat. Even better, you now only take half damage from failed dexterity saves as well!

Also, your Stillness of Mind can end charming or frightening effects on you as an action. I don’t know how a shield prevents you from being seduced, but I won’t argue. Anyone capable of fighting Kiara is more than welcome in my book.

9. Monk 8: At level eight we can finally use an ASI to improve your Wisdom, increasing the power of your spells, your stunning strikes, and the frequency of your counterattacks.

10. Monk 9: Ninth level monks gain an Unarmored Movement Improvement, allowing you to run up walls and over water as long as you end your turn somewhere solid. Most fighting game stages aren’t wild enough to make this useful, but who knows? Maybe one day you’ll end up in Smash.

11. Monk 10: At 10th level, your Purity of Body renders you immune to diseases and poisons. It doesn’t make sense for a dead person to catch a cold, but it’s happened before. Now it won’t happen to you, at least.

12. Monk 11: Eleventh level kensei monks get their best way to spend ki, Sharpen the Blade. Bucking convention, this feature only has one use- spend ki, improve your weapon. You can spend up to three ki points to give your shield up to a +3 bonus to attacks and damage rolls for up to a minute. This only works on weapons that don’t already have a magical bonus, so hopefully Gamaliel isn’t too powerful.

It is also worth noting that this is the level your martial arts die increases to a d8, so now you can wield Gamaliel in one hand without worrying about lost damage potential, and finally allowing you to wield your shield as you do in-game.

13. Monk 12: Still, temporary bonuses can only get you so far. Use your ASI this level to improve your Dexterity for a better shield and a better shield to attack with to boot.

14. Monk 13: At level thirteen, all monks gain the Tongue of the Sun and Moon, allowing you to understand any spoken word, and for the speakers of those words to understand you. This is why every servant in FGO, from ancient Sumerian kings to distant satellites, all know modern Japanese.

15. Monk 14: Your Diamond Soul gives you proficiency in all saving throws, and you can even spend a ki point on any failed save to reroll. It’s almost as if you have some kind of ultra-powerful shield, protecting you from harm… no, it couldn’t be.

16. Monk 15: At level fifteen, your Timeless Body prevents the frailty of old age, allowing the theoretically infinite life of a reborn become a reality. You also can’t be aged magically, though I don’t recall ever seeing that as a possibility, and you don’t need to eat or drink. Again.

It’s also worth noting that Riesbyfe only mentions that you can live a lifetime, “and not show it” while wielding Gamaliel, so this technically fulfills that requirement regardless of your lineage.

17. Monk 16: We only have a few ASIs left, so it’s high time we maximized our Dexterity for the highest AC and most powerful punches possible.

18. Monk 17: With our final foray into the kensei, you’ve studied your opponent’s frame data enough to have Unerring Accuracy. Once per turn, you can re-roll a missed attack to try again. If that doesn’t work, disconnect and blame lag.

19. Monk 18: At level 18, monks have an Empty Body, thanks to your soul so thoroughly vacating it that you can become Invisible for short periods and take reduced damage, or you can astrally project. Your invisibility is the greatest defense buff we’ve received so far- even if all it did was give your enemies disadvantage to hit you for a minute, it would pay for itself before that minute was up. As is, it frees up your bonus actions for more attacks, while also further protecting you from reprisal.

20. Monk 19: Our final level feels rather basic, but it is still very important all the same. Use your last ASI for the Tough feat, giving you an extra 40 HP.

Pros & Cons

Pros:

to start things off, you’re an absolute beast of a shielder, with a good 18 base AC, plus two from your sick combos, possibly plus two more from a shield of faith, and then adding in disadvantage from dodging, and you’re really hard to hit. On top of that, you have over 200 HP on average and resistance to almost all damage while Empty Body is up, so anyone trying to whittle down your health will be there a while.

and all the time they’re fighting you they’ll have to watch out for your counterattacks, which make you a much less favorable target to go after. zap them if they’re in melee range, throw stuff back from a distance, however it goes down it’ll suck to be your enemies.

furthermore, even if you do go down you’re way more likely to get back up thanks to being a reborn and having advantage on your death saves. and of course, your enemies probably can’t wait you out, since you don’t get weaker as you age, and are already kind of dead to begin with.

Cons:

okay, there is a big caveat on that last one. you’re not really immortal, so if you decide to change things up and play a different race, or even if your DM just gives Reborn a time limit on life, you’re suddenly just as mortal as everyone else again. generally it’s not a big issue, but it is supposed to be one of Riesbyfe’s abilities, so I just wanted to bring it up.

if you’re playing to character your Range is only five feet away from yourself at any time, unless someone throws something at you first. while this usually won’t be too big an issue, it can be problematic when dealing with wall-crawling or flying enemies. of course, unless you’re a diehard Riesbyfe fan this shouldn’t be an issue- you can just throw your spear, or even use one of your ranged kensei weapons instead.

there’s a reason Melty Blood rounds only last one minute each. when you go all-out, your Ki will burn out pretty fast. you have the most ki of any build we’ve made so far, but if you don’t take short rests often it will become a problem after one or two fights. Or even just one long, drawn-out fight like the ones you cause by going on the defensive.

#nasuverse #melty blood #Riesbyfe Stridberg #DND #D&D 5e #Monk #Cleric

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claire-starsword · 6 months

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The Guardiana Magic School Run - Part 11

Again we start straight at battle since all setup and promotion whining was done in the last part already.

The Duelist is a anti-centaur arrow I think, quite useful given the amount of knight enemies in this game, but alas we don't have archers in this run.

From this line beyond is where the Laser Eye hits, I hope to attract some of the enemies and then come back before the first laser shot.

It takes until turn 3 to get somewhat close, I guess turn 5 is the laser, the countdown always confuses me a bit.

Max is already on his counter bullshit, and we attracted a priest. Would have loved to attract the pegasus knights as well but alas, that's what happens when you don't have fliers i guess. I'm still confused but i think the laser is next turn so we have to back down? Idk my brain is kinda fried and i shouldn't be playing this at such a state probably. At least everyone is faster than the enemies so positioning to protect the frail members isn't hard.

At this point you could rip away the attack button for Max and he'd still be getting more kills than everyone else.

Also I messed up and the laser is at the start of turn 6. Oh well. Good thing I don't care for the clear bonus this time.

After a whole lot of wasted time the laser hits exactly zero of our heroes and five enemies, including one of the pegasus knights, which worry me the most not just for being strong but also for tending to ambush here at the worst positions possible blocking the path, which is terribly narrow.

Speaking of, once we advance to the middle of bridge, there are only four spots out of the laser's range, so people will likely have to tank a hit. And by people I mean not Anri, I said this battle was gonna suck for her. She has the lowest HP of the team, 13. Guess how much damage the laser does. I have to get Anri to a safe spot no matter what, and I have no clue if she'll get to move away from it later.

Except "safe spot" is a very loose term here! Guess who?

It's our one-hit killing friends again! I think they reach any of the mentioned spots.

Anri, you sure you don't wanna sit this one out? Relax, grab some ice cream?

I'm taking her for now because I get the feeling every damage will count for the intact pegasus knights, but I might legit hold her back for the rest of the fight, it sucks in terms of exp but hey, I said deaths are the priority, didn't I? Time to commit to that.

Arthur gets to debut his paladin armor by finishing the laser battered priest, and I get to tell everyone to listen to the GBA exclusive promotion theme, it's so good.

Also Max decides to chill on the counters in the worst possible moment so we're blocked now. Of course he deals with the lizardman immediately but that still means he doesn't advance this turn, which means we won't be in front to protect people.

Tao finishes the knight and gets Blaze 3 for her efforts, which is wonderful.

Because everyone is faster than the enemies I still manage to protect her before she gets hit. Lowe isn't a guy I want in the front but he does have a bit more defense and HP so he should survive. Khris has also healed Max from some scratch damage that piled up, because again, I need people as good as possible to tank some lasers.

See that's not bad. And despite all my bullying, Anri does manage to finish this guy next turn, with some help from Tao. Sadly it's not enough to level her up, getting any extra HP would be life saving here.

The other wonderful thing here is that the elves can target most of the empty tiles here, plus the first three of the narrower bridge. I hate these guys so much, we have to advance very carefully. I also think this is the time for Anri to back down, I could try killing one of the enemies with her to get HP but that's not guaranteed and I'm scared.

Most people are stuck here both finishing off enemies and trying to rush past the elves without getting in their range.

Max on the other hand is just going because who can stop him. The laser is a bigger danger for him, and he might get out of blast range at this point.

Also, every time I start doing absurd things with Max I wonder if he's getting overleveled, but no, he's very on par with the rest of the team, this is just how he is. Of course it might be better to save exp for weaker characters, but eh, I don't think anyone is struggling to level up besides Anri, who is just doomed in this particular fight anyway.

Thankfully the rest of the team isn't even that far save for Lowe, Tao and Anri. Sadly however Max has been shy with the counters since I pointed them out, so he's blocked from avoiding the laser.

He's not shy on doing double attacks though, so Arthur gets a lizardman-free way out of the blast. Gong and Khris do some small healing so we can survive better as well.

Unfortunately promoting Arthur does not save him from the patented Arthur Level Up™.

oof

The first blast did 13 to every enemy so I assumed it was fixed, but turns out there was a +1/-1 variance. Anri had a chance of surviving, and a chance of not surviving even after levelling up. This battle is very mean to her.

Time to put a lot of herbs to use now.

After a lot of healing it is then time to farm the Laser Eye for fun and profit. By profit I mean, +1 HP for Arthur. The level up goes by so fast I don't even get to screenshot it.

Still, I finally get to mention something that already came up on the Marionette fight, but that I chose to not mention until a force character got the spells, and kinda completely forgot when I celebrated Tao's level up earlier. The levels 3 and 4 of damage spells were swapped between the mega drive and GBA version. In this one, level 3 is the strongest single target level, while level 4 is the AoE one with damage between levels 2 and 3. This means we're still a bit away from having good AoE, but it also means Tao just became a one hit killing machine to rival Max, honestly.

…except this thing clearly resists it despite have no magic res listed. Oh well. It's kind of a thing for machines in general honestly. You'll see how bad it gets in later chapters.

And that's it, the rest of the battle is not even worth commenting, Max tanks a lot of 1 damages, we win. We even get the clear bonus. I could have been a patient person and tanked a billion more attacks to wait for Anri to come back and train. Unfortunately I am not a patient person. Let's see how much this will bite me in the ass later. For now we just have a triumphant victory over chapter 3.

Losses: 0 Deaths: 2 The expected deaths on Narsha interludes: 0/3, the final challenge awaits

#shining force #shining series #ressurection of the dark dragon #guardiana magic school run #played this and the next a while ago then didn't post because you know #it's been A Couple Of Months

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adriantumble · 10 months

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Baseball vs. Football

“Baseball is different from any other sport, very different. For instance, in most sports you score points or goals; in baseball you score runs. In most sports the ball, or object, is put in play by the offensive team; in baseball the defensive team puts the ball in play, and only the defense is allowed to touch the ball. In fact, in baseball if an offensive player touches the ball intentionally, he's out; sometimes unintentionally, he's out.

Also: in football,basketball, soccer, volleyball, and all sports played with a ball, you score with the ball and in baseball the ball prevents you from scoring.

In most sports the team is run by a coach; in baseball the team is run by a manager. And only in baseball does the manager or coach wear the same clothing the players do. If you'd ever seen John Madden in his Oakland Raiders uniform,you'd know the reason for this custom.

Now, I've mentioned football. Baseball & football are the two most popular spectator sports in this country. And as such, it seems they ought to be able to tell us something about ourselves and our values.

I enjoy comparing baseball and football:

Baseball is a nineteenth-century pastoral game.

Football is a twentieth-century technological struggle.

Baseball is played on a diamond, in a park. The baseball park!

Football is played on a gridiron, in a stadium, sometimes called Soldier Field or War Memorial Stadium.

Baseball begins in the spring, the season of new life.

Football begins in the fall, when everything's dying.

In football you wear a helmet.

In baseball you wear a cap.

Football is concerned with downs - what down is it?

Baseball is concerned with ups - who's up?

In football you receive a penalty.

In baseball you make an error.

In football the specialist comes in to kick.

In baseball the specialist comes in to relieve somebody.

Football has hitting, clipping, spearing, piling on, personal fouls, late hitting and unnecessary roughness.

Baseball has the sacrifice.

Football is played in any kind of weather: rain, snow, sleet, hail, fog...

In baseball, if it rains, we don't go out to play.

Baseball has the seventh inning stretch.

Football has the two minute warning.

Baseball has no time limit: we don't know when it's gonna end - might have extra innings.

Football is rigidly timed, and it will end even if we've got to go to sudden death.

In baseball, during the game, in the stands, there's kind of a picnic feeling; emotions may run high or low, but there's not too much unpleasantness.

In football, during the game in the stands, you can be sure that at least twenty-seven times you're capable of taking the life of a fellow human being.

And finally, the objectives of the two games are completely different:

In football the object is for the quarterback, also known as the field general, to be on target with his aerial assault, riddling the defense by hitting his receivers with deadly accuracy in spite of the blitz, even if he has to use shotgun. With short bullet passes and long bombs, he marches his troops into enemy territory, balancing this aerial assault with a sustained ground attack that punches holes in the forward wall of the enemy's defensive line.

In baseball the object is to go home! And to be safe! - I hope I'll be safe at home!”

-(believe attributable to George Carlin)

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elrios-trash · 2 years

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Testing Twins Picaro!

Aighty. I've just finished doing Master Class on my Twins Picaro. I'm going to share my thoughts and a lil bit review of this path.

Levelling to 99

Levelling with her is fun and faster because skills can go clear horizontal. When I am on level 1-99 I do it all solo without anyone interrupt my queue on dungeon, even my transcendence quest--is that an irony or what lol. Btw my ERP mainly for attack (ASD, Polarize, Damage to Boss) and 80/100 (160%) Item Drop Rate (so I can get extra drop when MC).

Things getting a bit complicated when you meet her passives that includes badges and black/dark aura thingy. This black/dark aura can be obtained from spamming certain skills that have tags--I forget which. While you're still a 2nd Job Punky Poppet, the number on badges can be piled up to 1000. Crazy right?

But after you done transcendence quest and straight to level 99, those points for badges can be decreased (read: the points get consumed) when you spawn Cour de Monde [Level 95] or Long Stockings [Level 80] or any skills that launched rockets :'D

Also she is mana chug even though on her [Unique Badge] passive it gave self MP recovery as Code: Antithese and Diangelion did. The difference is, how much MP recovery she gain per seconds. Since it won't shows up like CA/DiaN MP self recovery.

3rd job and Master Class

Your pots from Prof. Pho quest will be used up lol. Really chugs. Also her skills need positioning for bossing which I find is hard too. Her minus while I am doing Sea of Ruin is she can't entirely clear small mobs (the box/cubes mobs) there with big skills. I can say like Mad Paradox's weakness, but she's pro at mid boss and bossing.

I admit she's kinda hard to control on mini bosses like Master Road lol. Gaia always annoy me with his long jumps and that time I alr press my skill to another way D:<

Summaries

Pros : + Have so much clearing skills (mostly horizontal, big, and long-ranged). Fast skill casting too. + Many cooldown decreased/ignore defense option on skill traits, have Super Armor and can be invisible to approach enemies, + DPS besides Eternity Winner and Nisha Labyrinth. + Good at big boss and mid boss. Literally you can solo any dungeon with her. + Movement is faster (because of her passive) than other Laby, can dash in mid air 5x

Cons : - Mana chug (if you pick ignore defense/heavy skill traits) - Bad at small mobs and small boss/humanoid, sometimes the skill only hit a half bar - Need positioning at bossing, especially if the boss aren't stay still - Some people complain about how big are her skills after use "Long Stocking", that make them lag - If you find her voice/skill voice is too loud and noisy, then yes it is a cons XD

Alright, maybe that's all from me! ^^)/ If you find this review helps, don't forget to like or reblog this!

#elsword #review #laby #elsword laby #laby twins picaro #twins picaro #elsword review #tips & guides #character review #character gameplay

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obsessedwithkirby · 2 months

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Final thoughts on Ex Astris (There will be spoilers this time):

[Previous thoughts here]

-The music was very good all throughout and I am looking forward to finding a way to listen to it all on its own

-I barely used Deterrent because I liked the three party members I was using too much (not a criticism). I am glad he did not have to be in the party to contribute to conversation because I thought the added character interactions he contributed to were really interesting. I can properly use him and Manganese in the end game whenever I end up replaying the game

-I thought the story was made with a similar level of care to what I would expect from Arknights. Those small character interactions really made it for me I think. There were multiple times I wished there was some kind of log that recorded the dialogue so I could reread it though

-I think the game was thought-provoking in an interesting way and left an impact on me with its world and characters, not quite as much as Arknights has, but that is a terribly high bar

-The atmosphere at the end of the game was fucking fantastic (referring to Zin-Gerzen, Shadarra, and Laylah)

-I love Juan

-The shadarrish monitors were a really cool mid-boss to have in the final stretch of the game. The design of the enemy and the fight itself were both great. I really liked a lot of the elite humanoid enemies in the game actually (the bloodhelms and summoners were also really good)

-As much as I love the combat, I had an issue with it that unfortunately got pretty annoying during the final boss. It felt to me like switching between characters to parry/dodge the two kind of attacks was clunky. The slowdown the switch induces makes timing the defensive reaction a lot weirder for the fast attacks that a lot of tough bosses have, and there were a few times where the switch didn’t happen properly at all because it would get buffered rather than input immediately. This was especially annoying if the buffered switch put in the wrong character for the next attack

-The final boss was otherwise very good though. It was challenging to the point that I actually felt the need to exhaust my combat items, which I had rarely used prior to that point

-I expected that this probably wouldn’t be the case, but I did kind of hope for some kind of post-game. I had a lot of items and currency leftover and I never really needed to mess with half the cooking or crafting options. That’s good for giving options for subsequent playthroughs, but I would’ve liked to have just had a super hard post-game segment where you can unload everything. That said, the whole idea of a post-game does conflict heavily with the themes of the story, unless they did something really weird with it, so this probably works best

-I still think it’s a shame that so much of the stuff you get goes unused though, especially since I was starting to feel like there wasn’t always a point in looking for ‘chests’ or overkilling enemies since the rewards just kind of pile up in the inventory. I wonder if there could’ve been another system implemented to give some kind of benefit to all the excess

-In a similar vein to the post-game hopes, I would’ve also liked some kind of ‘extras’ thing to be unlocked at the end of the game. Like, a music player would be perfect, and I think it could be nice to have the journal fill out permanently to be accessed on the main menu. I also just like having the main menus in games reflect my completion tbh, but I acknowledge that that is a really silly and unimportant change to want

-I really liked the puzzles in the game. There were some obscure bits that were super cool, like the side objectives in the dungeons you can stumble into by doing a hidden layer of the required puzzles, or solving the trading post girl’s riddle

-It’s also worth mentioning that I thought the pacing in the game was great. That’s something that’s actually pretty important to nail in a long game game like this and I think it worked really well

-But geez yeah wowee that was a very very good game :3 !!!!!

#ex astris

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mazegays · 6 months

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could've followed my fears all the way down

Chapter 15

Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 16

“Hey, stick, you good?” Sonya’s eyeing him, now.

“Just thinking.”

“Well, leave something for the rest of us to think about, okay?”

“I’ll try, but you know how it goes.”

Between the two of them, they have the rest of the early strawberries picked well before dinner.

“How about we repot some of these instead?” Sonya suggests, nodding to a set of plants that no one seems to have a name for. They look like vegetable plants, but who knows.

’Zart would have.’ He shuts that thought down as it forms. He couldn’t have predicted who the Grievers were going to attack when they invaded the Glade.

It’s not his fault.

Even if it still feels like it most of the time.

“It’s either that or we go dig holes for trees.”

That sounds a lot harder than repotting plants.

“Let’s do that.”

“Okay, great! Separate out the newer, smaller plants first, the bigger ones should have enough room if we move those out.”

In his defense, Sonya starts the dirt war.

In her defense, he dumps a half-full pot of dirt on her in retaliation.

“Thomas! I like this shirt!”

“You got me first!”

“Not with a pot I didn’t!” She chucks another wad of dirt at him, harder this time. “I’m not that mean.”

“Sure, Sonya, sure.”

“Listen, stick, if you want a dirt war just say so.”

“Hey, Sonya?” She pauses.

“Just remember that you started this, later.”

He brings his left arm out from behind his back and hits her solidly in the chest.

They don’t get much actual repotting done, but throwing dirt at each other is weirdly fun.

“Okay, let’s clean this up before someone comes looking for us.” Sonya pushes her hair out of her face, leaving a streak of dirt behind.

Thomas should probably tell her, but he knows he doesn’t look much better. She’ll live.

It’s a greenhouse; the floor is pretty much always covered in dirt. They just make sure there aren’t piles, and refill any pots they emptied.

“I don’t know about you, but I’m not eating like this.” Sonya pulls her shirt over her head, using the cleaner inside to wipe her face off. “I’ll wash up properly later, but I don’t need a shirt for dinner with our friends.”

He can trust Sonya. She won’t say anything, and if he stays with her, no one else will either.

At least not to his face.

He takes off his shirt, copying Sonya and using the inside to get the worst of the dirt off.

“I think Frypan will have a fit if we go anywhere near the kitchen with our hands this dirty.” He points out. Sonya grabs the watering bucket and grabs his arm, pulling him so he’s positioned over a plant with his hands out. She rinses them off, and he does the same for her.

“There. Now nothing will stop us from getting our food!”

“I mean, there are still things— ”

“Nope! You are not going to say that. We are hungry and we are going to eat!”

Sonya’s eyes don’t linger on the mostly-faded scars, or the forming bruises from Minho’s nightmare. She acts like everything is normal, and Thomas couldn’t be more grateful for it.

“What have you two been up to?” Frypan laughs. “I didn’t know you took your shirts off to work in a greenhouse now.”

“Well, we may have had an incident with a dirt pile.” Sonya tries for innocence and if Thomas hadn’t started snickering, she might have landed it. “Shut up, Thomas. That’s all it was, Fry.”

“If you say so. Thomas, you might want to clean up more before you take Minho and Gally’s food.”

“Yeah, probably. I’ll be back in a few.” He doesn’t have time for an actual bath, but a change of clothes and a dry rub and he should be okay.

“Wait, you’re not eating with us?”

“Promised Gally and Minho I’d join them. We slept through most of lunch.” He explains. He’d almost forgotten about it.

When he gets back, Frypan has the tray made up, with a few extras.

“See if you can talk Anya into letting Gally out for the fire tonight. You’re coming, right?”

“Planned on it.”

Anya’s waiting when he gets there.

“Hey, I wanted to ask you about the fire tonight, is there any way Gally could join?”

“Yes. He’ll need help moving, and he’ll certainly have to sit the entire time, but if he’s up for it, then he can go.”

“Great!” When Thomas steps inside, he sees that the beds have been moved apart again. Are they trying to keep it from Anya?

“Gally, I checked with Anya, and she says if you want to you can come to the fire tonight.”

“I can’t walk, Thomas.”

“We’ll help you, duh. You’ll have to sit down for most of it, though.”

“I’ll think about it.”

Thomas tells them about the dirt war with Sonya, and Minho and Gally gang up on him to insist that she won, no matter what he says.

He should tell them about Rosa. About what she said, in case she tries anything tonight in front of everyone. He doesn’t think she will, but it’s better to be prepared.

He doesn’t.

He takes the tray when they’re done, and promises Gally he’ll be back with a way to get him out to the fire.

finish on ao3 or continue reading

“Please tell me you noticed he was off.” Gally really hopes it’s not just his imagination. Thomas was a little off at lunch, too, but he was probably just tired. This was a different kind of off.

“Yeah, something’s wrong. I don’t know what, though.” Is it bad that he’s a little relieved Minho wasn’t able to pinpoint it either? “He’ll tell us eventually.”

What if ‘eventually’ is too late?

It could be something dangerous— another mission?

No, Thomas won’t take one without telling them. Probably.

Hopefully.

“Let’s hope he tells us before it’s too late.”

“He will. No doubt he’ll drop it like he did the ‘I built the Maze’ thing, but he will.”

In the Glade, Gally had been confused by Newt and Minho’s almost-blind trust of the Greenie. Especially over him, when he remembered seeing Thomas from the Changing. When he’d been stuck there with them for years.

Now he thinks he understands it a little more. It hadn’t been blind trust; Gally’s smart enough to admit that he’d missed a lot between the three of them, and especially between Minho and Thomas. They’d known that Thomas wouldn’t keep important information from them without a good reason, and to his credit, he’d gotten himself stung to help them.

“Sometimes I wonder what would have been different if I hadn’t been such an asshole from his first day.” He mumbles, mostly to himself.

“You were like that with everyone, Gally.” He doesn’t have to look at Minho to know he’s smirking.

“I was meaner to Thomas. I remembered him from the Changing, but I didn’t think about what him being there really meant. If he’d been working with them and cooperating, why would they send him up?”

“That’s a fair point, but none of us were really thinking like that. We didn’t have room to analyze everything then; we had to get out or die. You didn’t help, but you weren’t wrong that immediately trusting him might have been the smartest thing to do. The three of us all ended up in the same place anyway.”

“Yeah.” There’s not a lot for him to say to that. “You didn’t go to last week’s fire, did you?”

“No. Concussion. And my ribs were still too tender to handle sitting out there for that long.”

“But you’ll be just fine tonight?”

“Yep! And so will you. You know Thomas is going to be watching and making sure neither of us are hurting. He keeps tabs on me constantly when we’re running. Half the time, he doesn’t seem to notice he’s doing it.

“That seems like him.”

Minho seems content with that for the moment, so Gally lets the silence fall over him.

He doesn’t even get to the just-planted trees before Rosa pulls him aside again.

“You’ve got a handprint on your arm and bruises on your chest. Still going to tell me you’re fine?”

“I am. There’s context you don’t have, Rosa. You can stop worrying about this now.”

“Stay away from them, Thomas. I mean it. They’re just hurting you. You can’t see it yet.”

“They’re not hurting me. No one is hurting me.” He’s never going to be able to convince her.

“Fine. It doesn’t have to be forever. Just the next few days. Bring them breakfast, whatever, I don’t care. But stop running with Minho.”

“No. This isn’t your decision, Rosa. Stay out of it.” She glares at him, like that will force him to change his mind, and stomps off.

He’s definitely telling Harriet about this, the first chance he gets.

But what if Rosa’s right?

Not about Minho and Gally hurting him. The handprint— he hadn’t even noticed that, but it must be from Minho catching him this morning.

They’ve both seemed better this week. Happier. It correlates with less time spent with him, for both of them.

Maybe he does need to spend time away from them.

Not for himself, but because it will be better for Minho and Gally to be away from him.

He’s promised them the fire tonight.

He’ll stop joining them for lunch and dinner tomorrow.

Thomas can’t bring himself to give up mornings with them. Not yet. It’s selfish, but he wants to be around them. He wants things to be good, and almost feel normal, like WCKD was never involved in anything.

Thomas wants, more than anything, to feel like he deserves them.

<- 14 16 ->

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nothingxs · 1 year

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chatgpt and d&d subclass design: an experiment

i’ve been having a fun morning!

i saw chatgpt was popping off, so i gave it ... a prompt.

Pretend you're a designer for Dungeons and Dragons 5th Edition. Come up with a Monk subclass for me that focuses on using improvised weapons. Come up with the specific class features they would get at each level a Monk would normally get a subclass feature. You can be vague about things like damage dice rolled but be specific with the general idea of how the feature works, and make sure that the features synergize with each other.

Here are your guidelines: - Remember that improvised weapons use the Monk's unarmed damage dice. - No feature should grant an additional attack, except for their seventeenth level feature, which is allowed to grant one. - At third level, their feature must give them the ability to use any object they pick up as an improvised weapon without needing to make a check, and allow them to find said weapons. - Also at third level, come up with a fun feature for their improvised weapons. - At sixth level, one feature should use some of the Monk's ki points to use. Be creative on what the feature does. - Also at sixth level, they should also get a feature that empowers their baseline improvised weapon attacks. - At eleventh level, they should get a feature that grants two different benefits, one of them offensive, and one of them defensive. - At seventeenth level, they should get a feature that enhances their attacks with improvised weapons—either by giving them an additional attack when they use Extra Attack, or some other bonus.

here's what chatgpt replied with:

The Monk subclass for Dungeons and Dragons 5th Edition that focuses on using improvised weapons is called the Improviser. The Improviser gains the following class features at each level a Monk would normally get a subclass feature:

3rd Level: Improviser's Eye

The Improviser can use any object they pick up as an improvised weapon without needing to make a check. The Improviser can find improvised weapons even in unlikely places, such as a brick in a pile of rubble or a bottle on a tavern table.

3rd Level: Improved Improvised Weapons

The Improviser's unarmed damage dice for improvised weapons increases by one step (for example, from 1d4 to 1d6). The Improviser has advantage on attack rolls with improvised weapons.

6th Level: Ki-Powered Improvisation

The Improviser can spend 1 ki point to give their improvised weapon a bonus to its damage roll equal to their Wisdom modifier until the end of their turn.

6th Level: Specialized Improvisation

The Improviser can choose one type of improvised weapon (such as bottles, chairs, or sticks) and gain a bonus to their attack and damage rolls with that type of weapon equal to their Wisdom modifier.

11th Level: Dual Advantage

The Improviser gains an additional +1 bonus to their AC when wielding an improvised weapon. The Improviser can make a bonus attack with an improvised weapon as a reaction when an enemy within 5 feet of them misses with an attack.

17th Level: Master of Improvisation

The Improviser gains an additional attack when using the Extra Attack feature with improvised weapons. The Improviser's unarmed damage dice for improvised weapons increases by one more step (for example, from 1d6 to 1d8).

like... this is kinda hilarious. very broken. but hilarious. what more nonsense can i get it to cough up? only time can tell.

#chatgpt #dungeons and dragons #d&d 5e #d&d #openai #procedurally generated #tabletop games

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lem0nshark-writes · 3 years

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‘��Warm Nights’’

Fili & Kili x Male (hobbit) Reader

Word count: 2148

Warnings: polyamorous, no incest - issa fili x reader x kili, fluffff, cute stuff okay

It has been a few moons since the dwarves took their kingdom back and the rightful king under the mountain was crowned. You and your best friend Bilbo returned back to the Shire and resumed with patching up the house back after your neighbouring hobbits split all of your belongings between themselves thinking you two had died.

The thoughts of you two's adventures with the company occupied both Bilbo's and yours minds and the two of you often spent time talking about them.

To be quite honest you missed the company a lot, especially the two dorky princes. The three of you managed to bond quite strongly during your journey to Erebor. But you missed everyone else too. Though Bilbo gave you a lot of comfort and his company was very dear to you.

One night as you two were preparing the dinner you noticed Bilbo has made a lot more food than usual, almost too much. But you paid it no mind thinking the hobbit was feeling extra hungry that evening. After you finished up the many foods you helped set up the table.

Remembering you forgot to turn the light off in your bedroom you made you way towards it, and just as you passed by the entrance door to the house you heard a knock.

You looked over at the door in surprise, questioning, not expecting anyone that late. You turned towards the direction of the kitchen and called out for Bilbo, "Hey Bilbo, are you expecting anyone?" you waited for him to answer but he didn't make a sound, you figured he was busy finishing up one of the last few dishes he was working on and shrugged it off, walking over to the door and opening it.

"Who is it-," you didn't even manage to finish up your sentence before a swarm of dwarves fell right on top of you, making you fall backwards on your butt with all the dwarves landing on you.

"Y/nnnnn!~~" all the dwarves cheered your name when they saw you, hugging you tightly not bothering to get off you and almost squishing you to death. Bilbo watched the scene from the door frame with a warm smile plastered on his face. He knew they were coming but wouldn't tell you, wanting it to be a surprise, and oh what a surprise it was.

"G-Guys what are you doing here??-" you smiled in surprise at your friends, trying to hug all of them back when you realized who it is that attacked your small body by piling on top of you.

"We had to visit our favourite hobbits!~" Bofur cheered. "Bilbo didn't tell you?" Thorin added.

"N-No-," you looked over at Bilbo with squinty eyes and he rose his hands up in a defensive way, "I wanted it to be a surprise," he smiled, not regretting his decision one bit.

You wanted to be upset but for the love of it you couldn't, the fact that the company was back together once again was overjoying and you couldn't get the smile off your face.

You and Bilbo took your time to greet each dwarf separately, many tight hugs being exchanged and even some cheek smooches too. And after you all finally done your greetings you and Bilbo lead them all into the dining room which was swarmed with foods and drinks. Many dishes, pastries, all sorts of drinks and desserts graced the table in plenty and you all sat down at the table. The dwarves wasted no time digging right in and soon enough cheerful singing filled the air, all of you joining in, and celebration took over the whole room.

After the lengthy dinner and many songs sung you all took it onto yourselves to clean up and then moved to the living room to share tales of the time you all spent away from each other. Stories of your adventures on your journey to the mountain finding themselves there as well as you all reminisced over the moments shared together.

You spent the rest of the night like that, just hanging out and chatting and when the time came to go to bed Bilbo helped settle everyone into their respective rooms for the night. You so happening to end up, due to the lack of rooms with a one-person bed, sharing a big one with the two princes and him totally accidentally ending up in a big one with Thorin.

The three of you slowly made it to your assigned room, chatting along happily as you walked.

As you got in, the princes started to take off some of their, now unnecessary, layers of clothing to get comfy for the bed and you took that opportunity to claim your spot on the bed.

"I call dibs on the middle!" you chirped cheerfully and catapulted yourself onto the bed, claiming your spot in the middle of the big bed, hugging the extra pillow you brought along.

The two chuckled at you as they put their clothes on the chair next to the wall of the room.

"Works for me," Fili grinned as he took off his boots.

"Me too," Kili smirked as he jumped on the bed as well, landing half-way on top of you, almost knocking all the air out of your lungs, and hugging you tightly.

You chuckled through your coughs and hugged him back, "Dear Lord, Kili-"

He just grinned cutely and so you couldn't even scold him, and just as you recovered from Kili's landing on you you got struck by another one, Fili hugged you just as tightly, snuggling into your body after the jump.

You smirked happily and pulled them both into a tight hug, getting back at them for the jumps.

They both let out gasps from being squeezed but you were gentle on them soon enough.

Brothers chuckled and you did as well and you all fled under the covers, the two of them sandwiching you into big warm hugs, which you very gladly returned.

The three of you shared the comfort of the quiet moment just hugging and being happy to have each other around once again, your heart feeling like it will burst out of your chest. To be quite honest you shared more than just very strong feelings of friendship towards the two, but you never acted on it, both because you didn't want to ruin the friendship but also because you loved both of them equally and you just couldn't pick, you didn't want to anyways.

"I missed you guys so much," you snuggled into them, making sure to grasp them both in your embrace.

"We missed you too," they smiled, each planting a kiss on your cheek, Fili on your right and Kili on your left.

You blushed through a smile and smooched the tips of their noses softly, returning the kisses.

They grinned and rested their heads on your shoulders, their faces almost completely in your neck, so close you could feel their warm breaths against your skin. It made you blush lightly.

"How long will you be staying? I hope you are not leaving tomorrow already .. are you?"

"No, we're not. We'll be staying for a couple of days," Fili smiled at the worry of departure in your voice.

"You're not getting rid of us that easy," Kili added with a grin and moved himself more up and closer to you, his face now halfly touching yours, hugging you tighter.

You chuckled at his words, "I better not," you added with a grin on your face, though blush spread across your cheeks once again because of how close Kili's face was to yours.

Fili stayed on his spot, his head resting on the spot on your chest next to your shoulder, listening to your heartbeats.

He could hear them speed up every time one of them would move closer or even speak. He found it curious, he didn't understand why it would do that, after all there's no way you'd feel the same as him, same as them.

See, the brothers talked after they took their kingdom back over and after things settled down. They've noticed each other's longing gazes whenever the situation would calm down or the conversation died out. They've noticed both of them were missing something, or rather someone. But, seeing they've both been in love with you they decided they would, with your blessing of course, either share or have neither of them be with you. Though the subject came hard to open and discuss once the three of you finally met again.

Fili quietly took your hand in his and held it gently, playing with with your fingers.

Your heart immediately picked up as your eyes shot a gaze towards the blonde dwarf, you gave him a warm smile, hiding the blush that was slowly spreading across your cheeks though the darkness of the room hid it well enough already.

Kili looked up between the two of you, and took your other hand in his, holding it to his chest and kissing the back of it sweetly.

Your gaze now fell at the brunette who was smiling at you already and your blush darkened and you smiled even brighter, snuggling into the two of them.

"Hey, y/n.." after a few moments of silence Kili suddenly spoke.

"Hmm?" you smiled at him, turning your attention to him.

"There's something we'd like to tell you.." Kili continued and Fili's eyes shot at him quickly, not expecting him to open the topic on the first day but also understanding that he can't not be with you for another minute because he feels the same.

"What is it?" you asked with a smile, hoping it's nothing bad.

"So uhmm… I-I don't know how to start but uhmm…" Kili started, now not being sure how to spill their hearts to you.

"When we took back Erebor w-we realized something uhmm-" Fili tried to help, "We don't know how you would feel about it but we have to ask-." You looked between them as they spoke, waiting patiently for the princes to gather up their courage and get to the point.

"Would it be alright if we courted you?" Kili finally blurted out, all three of you now sitting up half-way.

"Both of us, together-" he added with a hopeful smile spread on his handsome face.

You looked at the two in shock, eyes wide and words not leaving your throat. You couldn't believe this was happening.

"W-We know it's weird but.. but we both like you-" Fili started.

"Very much," Kili added.

"And we couldn't come to a decision so, if it would be alright with you-" Fili looked up at you, hopeful smile resting on his lips as well as the question hanged in the air.

It took you a while to break out of your shock, eyes darting from one prince to the other. But after a few long and torturous moments your brain finally started working again and a quiet "Y-Yes-" left your lips through a breath.

"D-Did you say 'yes'?" Kili couldn't believe his ears.

"Y-You accept our courtship?" Fili questioned, disbelief residing within him as well.

Big smile made it's way on your lips and you nodded your head vigorously before throwing yourself onto the brothers squeezing them into a big and tight hug.

They cheered happily and quickly returned, stuffing their faces into your neck and chest, hugging just as tightly.

After very extensive hugging session the three of you laid back down, now snuggling even closer to each other, the two of them each holding one of your hands in theirs.

"I love you guys," you exhaled happily, snuggling further into the two princes, "I have been in love with you two since the journey as well."

That made their hearts melt a little knowing you felt the same as them, and what a relief it was too.

"We love you too," they replied in unison with warmth both in their voices and in the smiles spread across their lips, snuggling right back.

Your heart could explode from all the happiness it felt at that moment.

The happiness grew even stronger when Fili propped himself up on one of his elbows and leaned in placing a gentle but passionate kiss on your lips, followed by Kili who did the same with a big grin on his face. You gladly returned both, blushing like crazy. The two chuckled at your red cheeks and proceeded to kiss them, each the one on their side, before laying back down and throwing their arms around you.

The three of you laid there like that, snuggled against each other in the warmth of the bed and each other's embraces, all three of you slowly drifting off to sleep.

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arrantsnowdrop · 3 years

Text

To be a Jedi - Anakin Skywalker x Reader

Request: “anakin/female!reader getting together fic that involves reader crying because she’s feeling self-conscious about her appearance and feeling worthless and anakin comforting her and calming her down and then accidentally confessing to her?”

Tags: @lothloriien

Warnings: self-deprecation, insecurities, etc. (~2,500 words)

~~~~~

Being a Jedi really sucked sometimes.

Not all the time. In fact, you normally enjoyed the fast-paced, demanding lifestyle you led. Even as a youngling you had taken pride in the ritual and responsibility of being a Jedi, and now, as a Padawan on the verge of facing the Jedi trials, you were more confident than ever that the Force had led you down the right path.

But that didn’t mean you didn’t have bad days every once in a while.

Your Master had been called away on some highly classified mission in the Naboo system, so you’d been spending the week at the Jedi Temple working on some independent research and participating in training sessions with the other senior Padawans. Unfortunately, they were focusing on lightsaber combat this week - something you were definitely not as skilled at considering your specialization in negotiation and communications.

It wasn’t that you were unathletic - you were training to be a Jedi for crying out loud - but it was hard not to feel a little self-conscious about how much you were struggling with the training exercises, especially when your assigned training partner was none other than Anakin Skywalker.

It was just past midday - you’d been training for hours already and still had a few to go. The sun was blaring down on the courtyard where you and the other Padawans were sparring under Obi-Wan’s supervision.

You panted heavily, eyeing Anakin as the two of you circled each other slowly. There was no question as to which one of you would launch the next parry - Anakin had taken the offensive right out of the gate - so all you could do was try to catch your breath and prepare yourself for his next attack.

His eyebrows were furrowed in concentration, a few beads of sweat dripping down his forehead and some of his hair sticking to his face. His eyes were following your every move, tracking you like you were some kind of prey.

You hated this.

Suddenly, Anakin lunged forward, blue lightsaber whirring loudly as he swung it towards you. You groaned, lifting your own lightsaber up at the last possible moment to deflect him.

“Such a slow reaction time,” Anakin teased, grinning as he stepped back to give himself a wider range of motion.

“I thought it would take you longer to catch your breath,” you replied, voice strained as you blocked another one of his strikes.

You’d been friends with Anakin since Obi-Wan took him as a Padawan years ago, offering to help him as he played “catch up” with the rest of you. The fact he’d become such a strong Force-user despite starting so late was something you deeply respected him for, though you were perfectly content simply watching him display these skills.

Being on the receiving end of a lightsaber attack from Anakin Skywalker was not something you would consider enjoyable. You’d spent the whole morning dodging and jumping and somehow still losing every match.

You flinched as Anakin’s lightsaber hit your torso, the sting of the “training mode” setting hurting far less than the sting of your own pride.

“Seven to one,” Obi-Wan called from where he was watching. You groaned, rubbing your temples with your free hand and turning your lightsaber off.

“Hey, you were definitely doing better than time,” Anakin said reassuringly, sensing your frustration. “Improvement is all Obi-Wan is looking for.”

“Improvement doesn’t take away from the fact I’ve lost seven matches today,” you seethed, bending down to re-tie the laces of your boots.

“Perhaps if you worked out a bit more you wouldn’t lose so often,” one of the other Padawans jested. Your head snapped up, face flushing as you sent them a pointed glare.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you asked curtly, watching them look between you and Anakin uncomfortably.

“It’s just-”

They didn’t get a chance to finish, letting out a small shriek as they dodged a rock flying through the air. You turned around to look at Anakin, his slightly raised hand indicating who’d been responsible for the rock. At least he was using his Force capabilities in your favor now.

“Thanks,” you muttered, reigniting your lightsaber, glancing at the clock above where Obi-Wan was sitting. All you wanted was for training to be over so you could retreat to your room.

“They don’t know what they’re talking about,” Anakin said, a somewhat angry look on his face as he took a fighting stance across from you. “You’re perfectly capable of wielding a lightsaber, and you’d definitely beat them if you’d been paired up.”

“Hopefully,” you corrected him, “hopefully I’d beat them.”

“Definitely,” Anakin insisted, you rolling your eyes as you lifted your lightsaber in front of you.

----

What sucked about getting older was how little you saw Obi-Wan and Anakin. Your Master was responsible for conducting multiple research projects for the Jedi Council off-world, and Obi-Wan and Anakin hardly ever stayed on Coruscant for longer than a few days, so it was unlikely that you’d find yourselves in the same place for a decent amount of time anymore.

Normally, you would’ve used this week as a great opportunity to catch up with one of your oldest friends. This damn lightsaber training was getting in the way.

It had been yet another long day of sweating the equivalent of your own bodyweight and paling in comparison to Anakin’s abilities. Obi-Wan had focused on lightsaber combat in precarious and compromising situations, with one of which resulting in you falling off a two story rock wall.

As you stood in front of the mirror in your room you couldn’t overlook the spattering of bruises covering your torso and arms, all varying hues of blue and purple culminating from the last few days. You sighed, grateful you were getting the extra training you so clearly needed and nervous about what that meant. Imagine you’d been confronted by some Sith fanatic in the last few weeks - who knows how long you would’ve lasted?

Perhaps you were overthinking. You did have an extremely over-skilled training partner who made most other Jedi look incompetent with a lightsaber.

That being said, you still couldn’t shake what that other Padawan had said about you yesterday. Had you really become unathletic? You didn’t think you’d ever really neglected your daily training exercises, but perhaps those weren’t enough.

You sat down on the edge of your bed slowly, shoulder slumped. Maybe you weren’t as capable as you thought. The bruises all over you and lack of any actual visible muscle certainly pointed towards that.

----

The next morning, you skipped breakfast, giving Obi-Wan some offhanded explanation as to why you’d be missing training and heading for the library. You weren’t really skipping for no reason, your Master had given you a list of different research topics for you to look up in the Jedi Archives. Did you really need the extra time to get this done? No, but it still gave you a good excuse to avoid the feeling of physical incapability that accompanied your training sessions.

Plus, you didn’t want to slow the entire group down. Tears pricked at your eyes as you remembered yesterday when Obi-Wan made you repeat some dumb exercise on a floating raft over and over again, even though everyone else had already done it to his satisfaction. It was humiliating.

At least here in the library, surrounded by stacks of holograms and books, you were in your element. Here you didn’t have to move fast or chop anyone’s limb off out of self-defense.

It was sometime in the late afternoon when Anakin stormed into the library, loud footsteps immediately shushed by a swarm of librarians. You couldn’t help but grin softly, eyes meeting his as he marched over to you much more quietly.

“Even the great Anakin Skywalker is no match for an angry librarian,” you teased, him scoffing as he plopped down in a chair next to you.

“And where were you today?” Anakin asked, a strange intensity behind his question. You gulped, gesturing to the pile of transcripts and notes in front of you.

“I was right here,” you replied meekly.

“Since this morning?” he asked, eyes widening in surprise. You nodded.

“What the heck, Y/N,” he groaned, leaning back in his chair. “Obi-Wan assigned me a different partner. Do you know how irritating every other Padawan is to train with?”

“No, I’ve only ever trained with you,” you said bluntly.

“Exactly!” Anakin responded a little too loudly, earning him a dramatic shush from the circulation desk.

“Shut up,” you chuckled, slapping his chest lightly. He rolled his eyes.

“What I mean is that I’ve only ever trained with you, too, so everyone else doesn’t live up to my expectations.”

“What expectations?” you asked quizzically, flipping one of your notebooks closed.

“Working hard but still having a good time,” he answered, waving his hand nonchalantly. “You never sacrifice good banter for anything, I value that.”

“Ah, I’m glad to know you only value me as a training partner for my humor,” you retorted dryly, gathering all your belongings into a pile and standing up. Anakin’s brows furrowed as he looked up at you, a confused look painted across his face.

“Hey, what?” he asked, standing up with you. “What happened?”

“Nothing, just makes sense that you only enjoy my conversation, not anything actually training-related.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” he asked, completely dumbfounded as you started walking away.

“See you tomorrow, Anakin,” you replied, refusing to shed any more tears until you reached your room.

----

The next morning you were too unmotivated to let Obi-Wan know you weren’t coming, deciding instead to stay in bed and do absolutely nothing. Well, you were reading, but what did that really matter to a Jedi? You were supposed to be able to do backflips through the air and take on five enemies at once, and yet here you were wrapped in two blankets feeling like absolute shit. Some Jedi you were.

You held your breath as someone began knocking furiously on the door, hoping desperately they would think you weren’t home.

“Y/N, I know you’re in there,” Anakin called. You groaned, turning around and smashing your face into the pillow.

“Y/N!” he called again.

“Don’t come in!” you shouted back, voice muffled through the pillow.

“I’m coming in.”

“Don’t-”

You never got the chance to finish, bolting upright in bed as the door flew open, Anakin stalking in. You rolled your eyes, just thankful he had kept the door on its hinges.

“What is wrong with you?” he demanded, cringing as you recoiled slightly at his harsh words.

“What do you mean?” you replied quietly, his face softening as he took a seat on the edge of your bed.

“I meant what’s wrong, not what’s wrong with you,” Anakin corrected, taking your hand in his own.

“Nothing’s wr-”

“Don’t give me that,” he interrupted, shaking his head. “Don’t even try, I know you better than anyone Y/N, what’s wrong?”

You kept quiet, focusing on the way his thumb was rubbing small circles on the back of your hand.

“You’ve been acting off since we started training together, is it something I did?” he tried again, genuinely concerned. You laughed dryly and shook your head.

“No, Anakin, you didn’t do anything,” you replied truthfully, looking at him. “You’re perfect, I promise you did nothing wrong.” He gave you a small smile, looking down to where he was still holding your hand. He didn’t let go, only gripped you a little tighter, urging you to continue. You bit your lip, debating whether or not to tell him.

“Do you remember when that Padawan told me I needed to exercise more?” you asked finally. His head snapped up, eyes meeting yours.

“I knew it,” he murmured, nostrils flaring as he tried (and failed) to conceal his budding anger. “I knew it.”

“Anakin it’s ok,” you said, reaching out and rubbing his forearm, his gaze following your hand. “I mean, they were right, if I-”

“No,” Anakin said. “No, they weren’t right. They have no idea how strong you are, how capable-”

“Anakin I’ve struggled this entire week,” you blurted, eyes stinging and face heating up. “I pale in comparison to you, and the other Padawans, at least physically. I thought whatever training I’d been doing had been enough but clearly it wasn’t, so they’re right. I need to exercise more, I need to train more, I’m incapable of defending myself with a lightsaber and I don’t even look like a proper Jedi.” You thrust your bruised arms out towards him. “Look at these, you don’t have them, no one else does. I’m the only one who struggles with every exercise and test.”

You realized you’d begun to cry, tears rolling down your face and breaths shallow.

“Y/N,” Anakin murmured, hurt in his eyes as he took your arms gingerly in his hands. “Y/N, no.”

Your eyes widened as Anakin bent over, slowly pressing his mouth to each bruise on your forearms. You gulped, feeling a little dizzy as Anakin glanced up at you. “You’re an amazing Jedi,” he started, sitting back up straight and pulling you closer to him. You tried to pull away, not wanting to stain his robes with your tears, but he held you firmly. “You’re already stronger than half the people in that group, I’ll have Obi-Wan reassign you so you can kick someone’s ass and everyone will realize it.”

“Anakin-”

He shushed you, resting his chin on the top of your head. You closed your eyes, reveling in the warmth of his body against yours.

“There’s more to being a Jedi than using a lightsaber, anyways,” he continued. “You’re the only person our age in this whole temple that can negotiate with warlords and thieves and murderers and still come back unscathed with five new friends.”

You chuckled, biting your lip as he pressed a kiss against your hair.

“You’re perfect, Y/N,” he insisted softly, you shifting in his arms to gaze up at him.

You were surprised by how nervous he looked, as if he didn’t know how you’d react to what he’d just said, what he’d just implied. You just smiled softly, leaning up to press a slow kiss on his cheek.

“Thank you, Anakin,” you mumbled against his face, grinning as you felt him smile.

Suddenly he pushed himself up, forcing you down onto the bed and collapsing on top of you. You shrieked, bursting into a fit of giggles as he began nestling himself in your hair.

“Shouldn’t you still be at training?” you asked, a wide smile on your face.

“I was sent here by Obi-Wan to fetch you,” he replied smugly.

“So shouldn’t we both be getting back then?”

He propped himself up on his elbows, gazing down at you with a cocky smile on his face.

“I never told him when I’d be coming back.”

You decided you could afford to skip training another day - Anakin probably needed the rest anyways - and pulled his face down to meet your own.

#anakin skywalker #anakin x reader #anakin imagine #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker x you #star wars fanfiction

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flooficandii · 2 years

Text

an updated list of her basic voice lines. agent interactions will be updated next!

also, her voice claim to help you read all these:

Pick agent

"Hope you brought coats, it's about to get chilly."

Cold Feet

Cast

"Stepping out."

"Scouting."

Kill

"Ears up, dumbass."

"Didn't hear a thing, did you?"

Cryotrop

Cast

"Caltrop placed."

“Caltrop here.”

Activate

"Watch your step."

Kill

"Did that tickle?"

“Tsk tsk tsk.”

Snowpile

Cast

Nuniq grunts

Pile

"Piled up!"

“All piled up.”

Pile kill

"Cold turkey!"

Wall

"That should hold ‘em."

“Snow wall’s in place.”

Avalanche

Ally Cast

"Everyone stand back!"

Enemy Cast

"That’s enough!"

Freeze all enemies

"Put them down!"

“There’s your cue!”

Kill frozen enemy

"Aqaa." (”Get lost.”)

*mockingly* “ Alaappa!” (”So cold!”)

Resurrected

"I’d ask what that was, but let’s save it for later."

Match Start

"Kingdom ruins everything they touch. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised about that."

“Let’s see who trashes the place faster.”

“I’ve got your back out there, alright? Stay behind me and I’ll do the rest.”

“If you’re planning on doing something stupid, at least make sure I’m around to cover your ass. Got it?”

“Do everything you have to. Just don’t fail.”

On Attack

"Let’s not overstay our welcome. Take that radianite and get out."

On Defense

“Spike threats. Just when you thought the world had gone to shit.”

Breeze

"Can we hurry things up? I’m about to melt,"

“You guys are barely breaking a sweat! How do you do it?“

Icebox

"Now this is my kind of mission."

“Alright, I get it. I’m in my element. Should be an easy mission, then.”

“Aqsarniit... I never thought I’d see it again.” (Northern lights)

Round Start

"Weapons ready and pay attention. Each action counts."

“Remember, my stuff can hurt you too. If you die in my snowpiles that’s on you.”

“This isn’t a playground, this is war.”

“Get your head in the game.”

“No mercy. Straight to the head, then we’re done.”

Last round won

"Don’t pat your shoulders just yet."

“They’re not gonna be so friendly after that.”

Last round won while in the lead

"I don’t think they’ve realized they’re never gonna beat us."

“Funny, I’m not seeing any white flags!”

Making a comeback

"Show them what we’re made of!"

“We never back down.”

Last round in the half

"After this it all goes down the drain. Get buying."

Match Point

"We’re bloody and tired. One last push and we can all go home."

"Aput probably misses me. Finish this for him?"

Spike forgotten

“Can you suck radianite from the ground? No? Then get the spike.“

“Aqii! The spike!” (”Idiot!”)

Shop

Offer to buy

"Extra creds, list your orders."

"Lucky day, I've got extra."

Request weapon

"You got cash?"

Barrier Down

"We act as one. Let's do this."

"Stay sharp."

"No kidding around. It's time to get serious."

"We'll win this. We always do."

"Keep safe."

Kill

"That's one."

"Tavvauvutit." ("Bye.")

"Aaq." ("Ouch.")

Nuniq scoffs

"Target dead."

"Knocked down."

Headshot

"Good try."

"That training paid off."

"Nipai." ("Be quiet.")

"Too much?"

Triple

"That makes three,"

Quadra

"One left."

Last kill

"Unataa takugit?" ("Looking for a fight?")

"Took care of that one for ya."

"And that's that."

"KIA on the straggler."

Melee

"Yikes."

"Not my first time."

"No bullets. A lot easier."

Last kill melee

"Not very cute and cuddly of me, huh?"

"What? They were right there."

"Can't help it if they're that close."

Last kill enemy MVP

"Don't be so cocky."

"MVP my ass."

Spike

Defuse resumed

"Anaqsitaunga!" ("Stop bothering me!")

"I'm busy, asshole!"

Defuse time running out

"..Hey. I'll see you around."

"Not like this, I still have to find him—"

Defuse successful

"There goes the spike."

Nuniq sighs in relief. "Don't make me do that again."

Ace

Nuniq pants and sighs. "Is everyone okay? Need a heating pad?"

"You challenged me. This was your price."

Clutch

"Poke the bear, get bit."

"Close. Too close."

Flawless

"And not a single scratch!"

"Thank goodness. Everyone's fine."

Low HP

Nuniq hisses in pain. "Still alive. They'll never take me."

Thrifty

"Hey, I could've made do with an ulu."

Match Win

"It's over. Let's head home."

"One more victory. Great job, everyone."

"Now that that's over, I should feed Aput.."

Breeze

"We're done? We're done? Finally!"

Runner Up

"Good enough."

"I can tone up the deadliness another time."

Radio/Socials

Hello

"Halu."

"Hey."

Yes

"Ii."

"Uhuh."

"Aakka."

"I don't think so."

Thanks

"Naqurmiik. Thank you."

Sorry

"Didn't mean to."

Commend

"Luqi!" ("Awesome!")

"Good job!"

#valorant oc #my writing #valorant nuniq #silly character stuff heehoo woohoo!#valorant #please dont hesitate to correct me on any of these phrases if youre inuk!#floofis brain worms

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ohheyitsokay · 3 years

Text

found

pairing: Paz Vizsla x reader

wordcount: 3.3k

warnings: brief mentions of cannon typical violence, the general awkwardness of writing a new character, fluff

summary: you're someone surprisingly good st finding lost things, and you find a Mandalorian - who's looking for home

Trying to get over my need to over explain things by leaving random plot holes. Don’t think about it too hard.

The charred remnants of the base were in tragic, disorganized, smoking piles all around you.

Feet still, you breathed in through your nose and out through your mouth, too tired to be in awe of what had taken place, too overwhelmed to realize that you were unscathed.

When a figure stepped out from behind one of the heaps, only your eyes moved, impressed in spite of yourself that they had managed to stay silent. It was a being barricaded in armor, solid like they were carved from the mountain around you, but blue, shockingly, wonderfully, beautifully blue.

You wondered if you had it in you to fight him.

It hadn’t been so long ago, that you’d met other Mandalorians – their helmets so full of pompous you wondered how they could fly. As he walked closer, you noticed that he did not look like them, did not hold his chin so high it begged to be knocked with the blunt end of a weapon. There was pride in his shoulders still, but no more than was in yours, and he approached you with empty hands.

“What happened here?” his voice had a rumble but he seemed curious, not disbelieving or angry.

“I tricked them,” you told him, and you were surprised to find yourself unafraid of telling him plainly. “I was looking for a missing flock of sant birds, and found them plumping the bellies of imperial troops.” You gestured loosely to a sparse gaggle of silly little beaked creatures tied a string toward the edge of the rubble. “I muddled the communication signals until they believed there was an incoming attack, and their would-be rescuers believed their own troops were the enemy.”

The Mandalorian's back straightened slightly and his helmet tilted.

“You did that for sant birds?”

“I have no love for imps or those who take what is not theirs,” it came out defensive, although he hadn’t belittled your choice. “It was more effective than I expected, but there were not many living who are not anymore, just droids.”

“You are one who finds what it lost?” there was a question there, but not one spoken aloud, and the subtext screamed.

“Can I help you find something, Mandalorian?”

His shoulders rose slightly - just a hair, really - and you couldn’t sworn his helmet dipped.

“Yes.”

Your fingers danced along the buttons and levers of the ship’s control panels, waiting for a command from your mind that would never come. They moved when you thought, searching for a memory – you couldn’t help it.

Next to you, Paz watched, amused as your sharp eyes were unfocused, mouth open just slightly with unspoken words.

“What are you thinking of, little one?” he asked, as quiet as he could manage, snapping you back to the present.

“When we first met,” you turned to him with a smile that made him fidget in his seat. It baffled him, how good you were, and how steady you’d been by his side.

Paz didn’t respond with words, just a thoughtful hum as he watched the stars race by in streaks. You didn’t know, but he was a little embarrassed by it – how enraptured he’d been by you, how quickly he trusted you.

After being separated from his clan, injured and angry, he had spent months stewing and brewing plans for finding his brethren again to no avail. Paz even hitched rides with strangers and picked up less than ideal work, hoping for something of his people to point him in the right direction.

Still healing, he settled on a little planet known for its rumors, known for spreading and sharing information so fresh it hadn’t had time to be twisted. It was there that he waited for words of Mandalorians, met the… other clans, and it was where he heard of you.

On the surface you weren’t remarkable, the whispers said, just a traveler with an uncanny ability to find lost things, and just smart enough to bend the world to your will and just slippery enough to stay one step ahead of genuine trouble. They said you were caring and cunning and clever and had a knack for judging a person’s character. From word alone he liked that, liked you.

The farmer who owned the barn he was sleeping in told Paz that he had asked you to find an old necklace of his mothers. A day later, both the necklace and a long lost sister were joining them for dinner, and you shrugged off both the thanks and the payment with a smile. Paz knew, because he had heard you distantly, through the weathered slats of the barn, and it stayed with him.

The dismissive words reminded him of home - the first reminder that wasn’t painful - evoking moments that were sweeter than the ache of loss. He would have said the same thing, when the Mandalorian’s who were not warriors requested his help. It wasn’t strict custom, but the way, to accept meals instead of money, stories instead of useless metal. Your actions, words, and far-away laughter reminded him of his home.

And when he found you, uninjured, a glint of satisfaction in your eyes and pride in your shoulders as you spoke casually about justice he couldn’t go back. You were almost glowing in the light of the still smoldering embers, gorgeous and determined and he knew he only had one choice – one shot take you with him.

Paz wasn’t in the habit of making promises he wasn’t absolutely sure he keep but he made himself one that day, buried it like a time capsule somewhere in his chest.

And then immediately put it to the test, by testing you.

He looked over at you, your hands now fiddling with your chair, and he fought the urge to mimic the movements. “I evaluated you,” he hoped you could hear that he was smiling.

You snorted, an impolite noise that made want to laugh.

Standing, you widened you stance comically lifting your limbs in an effort to be bigger, mocking him and saying “If I hire you, little one, I must know that I can trust you,” in an exaggerated tone. The exact words he’d told you after his test was over, something you teased him about often. Paz was laughing, but he wondered if you liked how deep his voice was – it was the key change to your mimicry. Looking satisfied with yourself, you settled down again, reminiscing.

The test had been to accompany him on a mission he’d picked up for extra cash – there were plenty of opportunities to be reckless but you gambled with neither his life nor your own. It was one of those circumstances where you were moving and guarding cargo for a rich young diplomat. He told you afterwards he wanted to see if you’d pocket anything beyond your payment, and of course you hadn’t.

“I passed with flying colors.”

The mission had veered left, when a misinformed bounty hunter pressed the tip of a blaster against your throat. At the time you were nearly strangers, but you didn’t give him up, even when you realized the bounty hunter was looking for a woman.

Paz was as in awe of you then as he was now. You agreed to help him the remnants of his clan, and to travel with him, and his promise to himself remained intact.

He nodded.

When he was young, Paz had a sweetheart, a kind Mandalorian girl with whom he enjoyed spending time with. It fizzled as apprenticeships and training were traded politics and responsibilities, and he had always had fond memories of that time.

It paled in comparison to how he felt about you.

You had been searching on your own for something you swore would help your search, and had been gone for days. If he hadn’t been sure before, he was certain now – what you were to him was infinitely more than anything else he had ever known. Still, he felt like a schoolboy, missing you, glancing at the door to the ship with eagerness every time he heard a creak.

He had thought for weeks it was because you felt like home, had been sure it was your ease with mando'a and his culture that made take to you like a duck to water. It made sense, he reasoned with himself. Of course he missed his family, those he was raised alongside, the very people who gave him purpose in life - of course he was looking for any scrap or taste of that wherever he could get it. Nevermind that your smile made him feel like he’d been stunned, it was just because your personal culture fit his like pieces of his armor.

Anyone would have been pleased, half smitten with someone who allowed then onto their ship, especially one as functional as yours. It was perfectly reasonable that he was comfortable with you, since you were always so thoughtful and honest and caring.

And you were talented, useful, that was all. The reason he valued you so highly was that you made his life easier, matched him step to step and balanced out his strength.

But that was all over now. It was special, how well you fit with him, and not to be taken lightly the vulnerability you gave as you shared your space and rations and time with him. All those other things were true, certainly, tenfold the longer you stayed in his company, but he could no longer explain away how much lighter his heart felt when you trotted into the ship, windblown hair and triumphant eyes.

He wanted you to be by his side, preferably if you wanted to be there.

Standing, he moved towards you, wishing he could hug you as you unceremoniously dumped your supplies on the floor. Instead, he picked them up, piling them or putting them back where they belong as you both filled each other in onto the days passed.

Eventually, the suspense overflowed, your excitement bubbling out of you.

“I got it!” your voice did something when you were excited that he couldn’t quite put his finger on, but it made him smile.

“Got what?” Paz swallowed a cyar'ika.

Eagerly, you produced a small drive and plugged it into the display, saying, “A map!” with pride.

“We already have a map,” That time, he nearly choked on the mesh'la his instincts insisted on, looking at you with genuine confusion.

When you grabbed his gloved hand, he thought he might never let it go.

“Not one like this, Paz.” You turned to the floating miniatures, and he only watched your face under their glow a moment longer before he tore himself away to look as well.

It was distracting, how close you stepped to him as you pointed, but your words were thick with value.

The map had details of Mandalorian sightings and rumors and stories. Even more than that, many of the planets had extra information tacked on, about resource numbers. Paz drank them in, your excitement finally making sense as he realized you were starting to highlight the ones where imported goods didn’t match the populations reported. Your voice was telling him you’d find them soon, that for him, you would do whatever it takes. His longing had become yours, in this little ship half buried in the dirt, under the expanse of the sky.

His hand found your shoulder, gently turning you and carefully, carefully, he hugged you.

The first three planets they chased were driven by pure, unadulterated excitement. He was eager for his brothers, eager to go back to protecting those who raised him and those who were being raised alike. Eager to be home, wherever that may be.

But as the weeks wore on, a realization settled in his mind. Finding home would mean your job was complete – his loss would be you, instead of his tribe.

And he did not like that thought at all.

It became a harsh contrast to his eagerness, as jarring as cool water cracking over heated metal, raising a stink that made his eyes threaten to fill. With each lead the two of you chased, there was a twist in his gut, anticipation suddenly less solid in his heart.

Your ship was nice, cozy and reliable, and he had filled his bunk with anything he found in the markets that reminded him of home. In between searches, you always managed to find the littlest work for the highest pay off – and really, work for a Mandalorian and his lovely, cunning companion was more than available. It was nice, filling your little kitchenette with foods you had introduced to him, and whatever he could get his hands on of the ingredients from his memories.

It wasn’t the same as his old home, with the people and culture who had shaped him, but it was something, and he… liked it, a lot.

He had gotten used to you, the way when his frustration built how you’d match it when he needed to, or lock him in a room with a pile of rations, or slip your hand between the gaps of his armor and rub circles with your thumb. Once he’d gotten in his head about the Mandalore, gone so far he wanted to fight everything that moved, maybe even stop some of them from breathing. You walked right up to him, wrapped your arms around his neck and leaned your weight on him until he remembered to breathe. And he didn’t really think anyone else in the galaxy would’ve done that.

So how could he give that up?

There was an elderly woman, Kori, who had missed the battle. Paz told you excitedly that she was fierce and had fought the armorer for the right to travel, unaware of the trouble that followed his brother-in-arms and the child.

You had set up the meeting at a little cantina you knew, and watched as Paz paced around your ship in his newly polished armor.

The last few months with him had been like a dream – and you had never been more selfish. When you’d met this Mandalorian you had been in awe, despite the previous encounters with the beskar-clad race. More than his formidable size, he cared fiercely, almost seeming larger by the passion that filled his frame.

And the more time you spent listening to his stories, why it all mattered so much to him, and having him listen to you in turn, the more thankful you were that he found you, and continued to let you help him in his search. He didn’t need you, not really. The man was resourceful and intimidating and held himself with the confident grace of a predator - it would have been just as easy for him to take what he wanted and be on his way.

It was strange, how his blood was equal parts humble and proud, but you were drawn to it, intoxicated by him. No one had ever made you feel as protected as he did, as… valuable as he treated you, and you ached for him. You couldn’t bear not to help him as much as you could, but you already knew you would miss your long nights spent talking or the way his gloved hand would grab yours like it was his second nature.

When it was time for the meeting, you had put extra care into your appearance, as if it would matter, wanting to make a good impression. Your companion stopped, and looked you over, and your feet shifted on the bumpy ramp of your ship.

Paz rumbled, as he had the first time you’d met, saying, “What is this?”

It made you laugh, sometimes, that someone so powerful and in control could be so awkward at times.

“Is it bad?” you quipped, trying to sound as though you did not care what he thought. In truth, he was the only one you had ever wanted so badly to think you were attractive.

Paz made a small noise, one you thought you recognized as annoyed, and you turned in time to see his helmet shaking and his shoulders tense.

“Mesh'la,” his voice was lower than normal. Logically you should’ve expected it, but it was amazing, almost overwhelming how his hand enveloped your cheek.

“Thank you,” you whispered, leaning into his touch. It was warm, and you felt selfish for wondering how much moreso it would be without his gloves.

And then a moment later the touch broke and he was hurrying to the cantina with you at his heels.

Kori was there, and they embraced. She greeted you kindly, but you kept your distance as they talked.

You settled at the bar, trying not to mourn a relationship that was hardly more than friendship, as you felt the eyes of someone on the back of your neck. It was a familiar feeling, and you turned, assuming it was Paz – but finding a man making his way over to you instead.

He was handsome, too tight clothes stretched over the muscles of his chest and a sweet, crooked smile. It made you think, maybe a distraction wouldn’t be so bad – and it wasn’t, at first. The guy was nice, attractive and charming and respectful enough that you let yourself actually enjoy his company. You almost didn’t feel the Mandalorians watching you – and you certainly didn’t see your Mandalorian's hands clench on the table.

Paz had hardly said a word to you since he dragged you back to the ship. He knew it was making you anxious, knew you were already waiting for him to start packing, knew you deserved some type of explanation as to what was happened but he just couldn’t.

For the very first time in his life he was petrified of getting the words wrong, desperate to say everything as right as be possibly could.

He wasn’t trained in this – they would say it was the way and move on, or have heated conversations driven by what they knew was right. Mandalorians weren’t … tactful, tentative, tender people, but Maker, did he want to be, for you.

You, in your nice clothes, settled in a crate, watching him and waiting, looking just touch guilty.

It’s not your fault, he wanted to say. It was his, for not being honest sooner. For letting you think he wasn’t head over heels in love with you, for letting you believe he would, could leave you. But he was angry, at himself and at the karking boy for thinking he had any right you make you smile like that.

Angry that it took Kori one look to know what he had spent weeks denying, to unearth the promise he'd made himself about keeping you close.

Angry it took her hand on his fists, and her quite, “Home is where the heart is, adi'ka,” for him to realize.

And when Paz was angry, words slipped past his tongue back down his throat like bitter medicine, and he couldn’t make it stop. He was a man who had spent years of his life in absolute control over every muscle in his body but he always failed with one, the one that seemed to matter most.

In the end, he remembered to do what he wished you would do – he pulled you into him, pressing he forehead of his helmet against yours.

In a moment, he could explain himself, tell you he loved you, ask you to let him stay. In a moment he would thank you for finding him.

But for now, he watched as the confusion cleared from your eyes before they closed and your mouth pulled into a smile, and didn’t run from the pride that filled him from head to toe.

taglist:

@fangirl-316 @scribbledghost @writeforfandoms @beautyagegoodnesssize @princess76179 @mrsbentallmadge

#paz vizsla #paz vizsla x reader #star wars #the mandalorian #maybe i don't know people

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sergeantsporks · 3 years

Text

Another Shot At Life

Rating: General Audiences, Gen

TW: Child abuse, emotional manipulation

Ao3

Hunter accidentally makes his way into the human realm and can't get back home. But he's discovering that might not be such a bad thing.

Ch 3/7: Rainstorm

Ch 1, Ch 2

Vee wrinkled her nose at Hunter as she passed him. “Are you seriously never going to change?”

Hunter tugged his cloak more firmly around him, setting down his sketch of the portal door. “I like my uniform. It reminds me of home.” He pulled off his gloves. He’d need titan blood to get home—he couldn’t risk anything happening to the bit on his gloves.

“You’re going to start smelling.”

“Vee, be nice,” Camila commented as she strode by, “But—yeah, Hunter, I think she might be right.” She grabbed some odd… weapon, maybe? It was like cloth attached to a curved handle. “I’ve only got a couple of appointments today, I should be home soon. We’ll watch something together, I’ll make popcorn. You’ll like popcorn, Hunter.”

Hunter jumped up, skidding in front of the door. “Are you crazy?” he yelped.

“What?”

“It’s pouring out there!”

Camila blinked. “Uh… yeah? That’s why I have an umbrella? Sweet of you to be concerned, though, thank you.”

Vee giggled. “Oh! Hunter, the rain doesn’t boil here.”

That was what Uncle Belos had told him, but... Hunter glared distrustfully out the window at the water pouring down from the sky. “Are you sure?”

Camila stepped out onto the porch, holding up her cane weapon. It extended, forming a canopy over her head. She held a hand out to Hunter. “Come on, I’ll show you.”

He gingerly reached for her hand, and she grabbed it, pulling him under the… umbrella? She gently tugged him out from under the porch overhang, splashing into a puddle. He scooted closer to her, staying under the protective dome of the umbrella.

Camila held one hand outside of the canopy, the raindrops splashing harmlessly on her skin. “See? Not boiling. You try.”

Hunter tentatively reached out, his hand stalling at the edge of the umbrella’s protective area. Camila nudged his hand out, and he winced as the first raindrops hit his skin, reflexively jerking his hand back in.

It was fine. No burns. No heat. He poked one finger out, drawing it back in quickly. Still nothing.

Camila put her hand over his, and he tensed. She gave his hand a squeeze. “Hunter. I promise I won’t hurt you.” He reluctantly let her pull his hand out in the rain, flipping it palm-up, and cool, fat droplets splattered down on his open hand. “See?”

Hunter blinked at the rain, wiggling his not-burning fingers. “…Huh.”

Camila walked him back to the porch. “I have to go back now, see you two soon.”

She got in her car and drove off. Hunter stood on the porch, watching the rain.

“Are you going to come inside?” Vee asked in the doorway.

Hunter stuck his hand out in the rain, then pulled it back in quickly. Nope. Still not boiling.

“Hunter?”

Hunter took a deep breath, and stepped out into the rain, tilting his face up. Raindrops splattered down his face, and he was almost instantly soaked. He kicked a puddle, and a laugh escaped his mouth. It didn’t boil. It really didn’t. He whirled back around to face Vee.

“It doesn’t boil!”

She looked vaguely amused by the whole thing. “No, it doesn’t.”

Hunter jumped in a puddle, soaking his feet. “Ha!” He dashed up to the house and grabbed Vee’s hands, dragging her out into the rain. “Isn’t this great?!”

She kicked a puddle at him. “I’m cold-blooded!”

“Oh. Yeah. It’s not that cold, though.”

Lightning flashed across the sky, followed by an echoing boom, and Vee shrieked, disappearing into the house. Hunter gave the sky a regretful look, and followed her, closing the door behind him. Red fluttered to his shoulder, then chirped irritatedly at how wet he was, and flew back into the air, shaking water off of its feathers. Vee was nowhere in sight, but she’d left behind puddles of water that he followed up the stairs and to her closed door. He tried the knob. She hadn’t locked it this time.

Hunter poked his head in the room. “Vee?”

Her eyes blinked at him from under the bed, and she hissed.

Hunter reached under the bed. “Hey, what are you—”

Sharp, needlelike teeth pierced his hand, and he jerked back. “Ow! Hey, what’s wrong with you?!”

“I don’t want to,” she yelled, “Go away!”

Red landed on the ground, starting to hop under the bed, chirping softly. Hunter reached out and grabbed it. “No! She’s scared, she might hurt you on accident!”

Red warbled reproachfully at him, and gently pecked his fingers until he let go. The little palisman hopped closer to Vee, nudging her hand and chirping reassuringly that she was okay, and no one would hurt her—not that she could understand it.

“Vee?”

There was another peal of thunder, and Vee hissed again.

Hunter got flat on his stomach, peering under the bed at the basilisk. “Hey. Does Camila know that you’re scared of thunder?”

Vee shook her head.

“Okay. I won’t tell.”

Vee crawled out from under the bed, cuddling Red to her chest. She flinched as another peal of thunder echoed, but didn’t go back under the bed. “Why would I want to hide it from her?”

Hunter sat up. “I—uh—I mean…” he thought about it. “I—I don’t know?”

Vee nudged him. “You’re soaked.”

“So are you.”

“Yeah, guess I am.” Vee stood up. “I’m going to change into something dry. You should do the same.”

Hunter squeezed water out of his cape. “I’m fine.”

“You’re going to catch a cold, and you’re going to get the couch soaking wet.” Vee opened a closet and threw a towel at him. “Get changed.”

Hunter made a face at her, but traipsed back down the stairs, picking up the clothes Camila had left for him. They were a bit big, but not so big he couldn’t just put his belt back on. Goosebumps rose on his bare arms. He did not like this. There was no defensive value to this outfit. He glanced regretfully at his dripping-wet armor. The padding on the inside of that would take a while to dry out. He shouldn’t have gone out into the rain wearing it.

There was another rumble of thunder, and Hunter heard a crash from upstairs. When he got up there, Vee was under the bed again. She didn’t hiss when she saw him, though—a little voice in the back of his head said it was because he wasn’t wearing the uniform of her abusers.

Hunter reached under the bed again gingerly, ready to pull his hand back if she tried to bite him again. “Hey—c’mon out, it’s just noise.”

Vee grabbed his hand, pulling his arm under the bed. “Whoa. You’ve got a lot of scars.”

Hunter yanked his arm away, tugging at the short sleeves he was wearing in a useless effort to cover all of his arms. “Hey! Don’t…”

Vee crawled out from under the bed, sitting next to him. She tugged up the sleeve of her own hoodie and held up her wrists, which had thick scars on them. “They kept us chained up, and the manacles rubbed away the skin.” She tugged the hoodie sleeves back down. “No matter what form I take, the scars still follow me.” She stared at him expectantly.

Hunter crossed his arms, staring up at the ceiling. “When I was… little… I didn’t listen. I was always getting into trouble. Emperor Belos, he… he has a condition. And… he gets these attacks. And… when I was still new, I… I wanted to help. And… he would lash out. It wasn’t his fault,” he added hastily, “He isn’t trying to hurt me, he can’t control himself during the attacks, and I kept getting too close, and… And then when I got older, I finally learned my lesson and stopped trying to help. It was my fault. All of them were—I never listened, I talked back, I was awful.”

Vee set Red in his lap. “Hey, Hunter? How many of those scars actually happened during an attack?”

“A-all of them.” Hunter scratched his palisman’s head, hands trembling. “I would set him off when I misbehaved, because emotion makes curses act up, you know, so when I made him mad, it would—”

“Hunter!”

He jumped. “What?!”

“That’s not—he hurt you!”

“It was my fault! I deserved it!”

Vee groaned, putting her head in her hands. “You need help.”

Hunter crossed his arms again, pressing his arms to his stomach so that the extra fabric of the shirt would hide the scars. “I’m fine.”

Vee sighed, opening her closet door and tossing him an over-sized hoodie. “Whatever you say.”

He tugged the hoodie over his head, and relief swept over him when his scars were covered up. “Um… Don’t…”

“Let me guess; tell Camila?”

Hunter pulled the hood of the sweater up, twisting the drawstring around his finger. “Yeah. That.”

“Hunter, Camila is… she’s a good person. You don’t have to hide anything from her. What are you scared she’ll do?”

“I—I don’t know, I just…”

“She won’t hurt you.”

“I know that, I just feel like…”

“Feel like what?”

“I don’t know!”

“Hunter?”

Hunter threw his hands up in the air, startling his palisman. “I just—I’m scared. Okay? I don’t know what I’m scared of, I’m just scared. And I know it’s stupid! I know you keep telling me that Camila won’t hurt me, I know she hasn’t hurt me, there’s no reason, I just… I just still feel like I need to hide.”

“Who are you hiding from?”

“Camila. Kikimora. Belos—I don’t know. I just…”

Red snuggled into his hood, chirping softly.

It’s okay. I’m here.

Hunter pulled his knees up to his chest. “Why do you hide from the thunder?” he shot back at Vee, “It can’t hurt you, it’s just sound, and hiding under the bed isn’t going to protect you from it.”

Vee sighed. “Yeah. Okay. That’s fair.” She stood up. “Did I ever teach you how to use the stove?”

“I know how to use a stove.”

“Okay, come on, then. I’m freezing—you owe me some hot chocolate.”

Xxx

Camila shook water off of her umbrella, leaning it against the door and stepping inside the house. Vee was huddled under a pile of blankets, Red the cardinal perched on her head, and Hunter was sketching that odd door picture again.

“Oh, hey, you got changed!”

He nodded. “My uniform got soaked.”

“Anything interesting happen while I was gone?”

Vee shot Hunter a very pointed glance that Camila wasn’t sure she wanted to know the meaning behind, and nodded. “It thundered, and it really scared me.”

“Aw, Vee, mija, I’m so sorry. I’ll pick up some earplugs the next time I go shopping, okay?”

“Thanks, Camila.” Vee extended a hand from her blankets and scratched Red under the chin. “Red helped me through it.”

“Really? That’s sweet.” Camila smiled at Hunter. “Thank you for sharing your palisman with Vee. That was very nice of you.”

His whole face turned beet red and he flipped his hood up, pulling the drawstrings tight and mumbling something incomprehensible.

Camila set her purse down. “Alright what do we want to watch? Tomorrow’s my day off, so we can stay up late.”

Vee brightened. “I want to watch Stephen Universe!”

“Again?”

Vee shrugged. “I really like Amethyst. Besides, I think Hunter will like it.”

Camila laughed. “Alright, Stephen Universe it is.”

Xxx

“I’m going to tell the emperor.”

You can’t hide from me, Hunter.

“Red!” Hunter snapped awake, fumbling for his palisman. The bird landed on his chest.

It’s okay. I’m here.

Hunter gently patted the bird, sinking back into sleep. “Yourrrrrre okay,” he murmured, closing his eyes again. “You’re…”

Don’t talk back to me!

Hunter, you cannot upset me! The curse will hurt you.

“Hunter?”

Someone shook him, and Hunter lashed out, punching Camila right in the face.

The blood drained from his face, and he put his hands to his mouth. Oh, Titan. Oh, he’d—oh, no. “Sorry,” he squeaked.

“Ow!” Camila fell backwards, holding her nose. “Ow—you’ve got a strong arm.”

Hunter didn’t move. He held stock still, eying her warily. Camila was nice, but he’d just attacked her. That wouldn’t just fly.

“Sorry if I startled you. It was just—you looked like you were having a nightmare.” She blinked at him, her face lit up by the blue glow of the TV. “Hunter? Hello? Are you okay? Say something.”

“Sorry,” he said again.

“Hey—it’s okay. Heck, I’ve gotten bitten by Vee when I startled her before. If anything, I should learn not to surprise people. Are you…”

Hunter curled his knees to his chest, resting his chin on his knees. “Just… a nightmare.”

Camila gingerly reached out, putting her hand on his shoulder. It was… odd. It felt nice. Comforting, even. “Hunter, I… I know you don’t like talking about your home life, but has Belos… does he hurt you?”

Hunter recoiled. Why did everyone keep going on about that?! “Not on purpose! I—it’s the curse, and if I make him mad, it makes him lash out, and—it’s my fault, really.”

“Hunter, he shouldn’t hurt you, curse or no!

“It’s not his fault!”

Camila shook her head. “There is no excuse, Hunter. None. I don’t care if he has a curse. He shouldn’t—and he certainly shouldn’t blame you for it.” Camila wrapped her arms around him. “I am so, so sorry that he made you feel like you were the problem. And I am so glad that you’re here now, instead of there.”

Hunter felt tears spring into his eyes. No one had ever… apologized to him. And Camila was just so… warm. And soft. And he hadn’t even had to do anything—she didn’t ask him to do anything, she didn’t need him to do anything, she just… wanted to help him. She was the exact opposite of Uncle Belos.

And it was worrying how much he liked that.

#toh #the owl house #toh fanfiction #toh hunter #camila noceda #vee noceda #my writing

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midnightwhispers12 · 3 years

Text

So, I have this idea in my head, and I’ll never write it out into a coherent fic, but the basic outline is:

The story starts with a montage of Stiles doing his caretaker-shtick - grocery shopping, cooking healthy meals, washing dishes, cleaning up the pack’s shared spaces, planning ahead for who needs to be where at what time, making sure everyone has everything they need, doing laundry, reminding the ‘wolves to schedule themselves off when they inevitably forget what day the full moon is again, etc, etc.

But.

The thing is? Stiles hates it. He HATES it. He started doing this stuff for his dad after his mom died and his dad disappeared into the office and a bottle of Jack, but it was always an obligation of the “if I’m more useful and less trouble, maybe he’ll want to spend time with me more often” variety. Their relationship eventually got better again (mostly), but if Stiles stopped doing the household chores, they just didn’t ever seem to get done. And eventually, they’d be out of food for the second week in a row, or he’d run out of clean clothes, or bathtub would be growing the mold that aggravated Scott’s asthma again, and Stiles would give in and just take care of it. And after enough times of trying to subtly shift some of the responsibility back onto his dad, and it failing every time, he just quit trying. It was less infuriating to do just do it himself.

When he moved in with Derek, some small, unspoken part of him was hoping that things would change. And, in Derek’s defense, it’s not like he just immediately refused to do anything around the apartment. But Stiles had a long habit at that point of just doing what needed done, and not waiting for someone else to do it. So he’d pick up groceries on his way home from work or class, and it wasn’t like he was going to intentionally not get the bananas for Derek’s nasty protein shakes while he was there anyway. He’d do his own laundry, and throw Derek’s laundry in too, because there’s no need to waste water on two half-full loads.

And slowly but surely, almost without even realizing it, he was back to being responsible for ALL the household chores. It only got worse once the pack filtered back in to living in Beacon Hills full time as they finished their degrees. A pack meeting needed to happen, so who was responsible for planning it? Stiles. Who was in charge of knowing when everyone was available? Stiles. Who had to clean up when the pack showed up uninvited and left their living room and kitchen in shambles? Stiles.

It’s not like he got to just stop taking care of his dad’s house either. He didn’t do as much anymore, but he and Derek had dinner at his dad’s at least every Sunday evening. They used to bring take-out over, but after the Sheriff gained 20lbs and got chewed out by his doctor for his cholesterol levels, Stiles went back to cooking for all of them every Sunday. Which turned into bringing groceries over for the meal he intended to make, because John didn’t have what he needed in the house. Which turned into bringing over a week’s worth of groceries, because the pantry and fridge were completely bare. Which turned into meal-prepping for the next week after dinner, while his dad and Derek watched whatever ESPN was showing, because seriously, eating fast food six days a week was just beyond unhealthy. And if he wanted space to cook, he had to do the week’s worth of dishes piled up in the sink. Plus, he always wound up cleaning whatever bathroom he used if he needed the toilet while they were visiting, because... gross. At least his dad seemed to be doing his own laundry now?

It doesn’t happen all at once, of course. Things build up over time, so slowly he doesn’t notice taking on one more task, and one more, and one more. No one likes doing chores, right? But someone’s got to do them. Someone has to plan ahead for the pack. If he sees that something needs done, it’s best to just go ahead and do it and get it over with, right?

Until one day, he’s just exhausted. It doesn’t make any sense, because he slept a full 7 hours last night, work is no more stressful than normal, there’s not a murderous monster of the week trying to kill everyone, nothing is wrong - everything’s actually been going surprisingly well for a while now. But Stiles is still completely and utterly wiped. Maybe he’s coming down with a bug or something? Since it’s Saturday, he decides to just take it easy and hopefully he’ll feel better tomorrow.

Derek comes over and scratches his scalp, taking a beyond obvious sniff of him (weirdo werewolves) when he sees there’s no breakfast happening, but just kisses his head and gets himself a bowl of cereal when he doesn’t smell anything amiss. The pack comes over and someone throws together sandwiches for lunch, and then they order takeout for supper. His dad shows up after his shift is over, and really, it’s a pretty typical Saturday, other than Stiles staying on the couch most of the day, instead of being up and moving around constantly. By midnight, he still doesn’t feel sick, which is good, and his mind and body both feel a little more rested. But he’s still somehow... existentially exhausted, maybe? Or something like that anyway, he doesn’t really know. It doesn’t make any sense!

But then he gets up to go to the bathroom and refill his water bottle. He looks around, and sees the clutter around the living room - the scattered pillows and blankets, magazines and books, cups and popcorn bowls, crumbs everywhere, water rings and greasy fingerprints on every flat surface. He walks into the kitchen and sees the sink completely full of dishes, the countertops piled with empty takeout boxes and trash. His foot actually sticks to the floor when he takes another step, where apparently someone spilled something and didn’t clean it up. The half-bath off the kitchen is occupied, so he shuffles toward the bedroom, and sees the laundry basket piled high; he usually does laundry on Saturday mornings, but he didn’t get to it this morning, and clearly Derek didn’t either. He finally makes it into the master bathroom, and sees Derek’s wet towels from this morning thrown on the floor.

As Stiles takes care of business on auto-pilot, he thinks about needing to go to his dad’s house tomorrow - planning what to make for the week, picking up groceries on the way there, cleaning the kitchen, cooking supper, cleaning up, making meals for the rest of the week to put in the fridge, cleaning up again, probably cleaning the bathroom.

He thinks about all the other things he’ll need to do tomorrow here at home - laundry he didn’t get done today, cleaning the living room and kitchen where it was left a mess, which means dishes, trash, sweeping, mopping, and picking up all the clutter, at least. Then MORE meal planning and grocery shopping because he didn’t get that done today either. The pack decided earlier that they wanted to go to the beach next weekend, so that’ll need planned - who’s driving, where they’re going, food and drinks to buy and pack, sunscreen, towels, after-sun gel (because werewolves always say they can’t burn, but then they do, and they WHINE, it’s so ridiculous), extra clothes because someone always forgets, talc powder and wet wipes to get all the sand off before they get back in the car, umbrellas, toys to make sandcastles (and enough shovels that the giant children won’t fight over them), a volleyball for the net... so many things. And if he doesn’t plan ahead for it all, and gather everything they need, then no one will, and it’ll be a miserable trip full of grouchy ‘wolves.

The more Stiles thinks about everything that needs done, the heavier the invisible weight on him feels, and he finds himself sitting on the edge of the bed, feeling more tired than he did when he woke up this morning. Derek walks into the bedroom, apparently to change out of his tight jeans and into sweatpants for the last movie of the night, but he throws his jeans down on the floor NEXT to the laundry basket, which is RIGHT THERE.....

And something snaps in Stiles. The proverbial straw has officially broken the camel’s back, and he’s just DONE. He can’t remember the last time anyone else did a chore, or cleaned up their own mess. He’s not entirely sure how everything got to this point, but he’s abruptly furious enough to make sure it doesn’t continue on this way.

Derek trails off from his last sentence, looking over at Stiles when he smells the boiling rage coming off of him, and follows after Stiles as Stiles stalks back out into the living room to glare at all the people gathered there, werewolf and human alike. One by one, the pack notices the steam coming out of Stiles’ ears, and fall silent in apprehension. Stiles is irritated and annoyed pretty frequently, but this level of anger is rare. What’s the deal?

The deal is - Stiles is on strike. They are a bunch of full grown adults, and as of right now, they’re going to have to pull on their big wolf undies and start acting like it. He is DONE acting like their parent, and he’s not going to do it anymore. If they want to eat, they’ll have to cook. If they want to eat nothing but fast food and die of a heart attack, that’s their choice to make. If they want to live in filth, so be it. If they have a miserable trip to the beach because no one planned ahead and packed the necessities, well, it sucks to be them. If they schedule themselves to work on the full moon, that’s their own problem, he’s not warning them or fixing it for them anymore. He’ll be getting a separate laundry basket for himself, and if Derek wants clean clothes, he can wash them himself.

They want to know what happened to family/pack taking care of each other? You know what, what DID happen to that? When’s the last time anyone attempted to take care of something for HIM? When’s the last time someone else saw something that needed done, and just did it? Or do they even SEE the things that need done anymore? No, because they’re too used to Stiles just taking care of it, and they don’t have to think about it. But this system has turned them all into spoiled, ungrateful brats, and he’s not enabling that anymore. He’s just not.

At first, the pack thinks Stiles is just being overly dramatic, Derek had warned them he wasn’t feeling well, after all. But over the next few weeks, they start to notice. Things just aren’t getting done. Who was responsible for this before? Oh yeah, Stiles. Why don’t they have want they need? Oh right, Stiles stopped packing for anyone but himself. It’s just little things here and there at first, but they add up quickly.

Meanwhile, Stiles has given himself permission to quit carrying the mental load for everyone, and he’s stopped trying to take care of every single little thing for a giant group of people, and he’s feeling so much more relaxed than even he expected. Yeah, it’s a little strange not cooking for Derek, but they had a long talk about it the day after Stiles exploded rage all over everyone, and Derek sees where he hasn’t held up his end. Stiles staunchly refused to do any household caretaking for the next month, and Derek agreed; they’re going to talk about it when the month is up, and decide then how they can fairly divide their responsibilities. No one else in the pack has even tried to talk to him about it, not even his dad. They did show up for Sunday dinner like usual, but when Stiles refused to cook or clean the kitchen so someone else could cook, they wound up just ordering from the local pizza place. Stiles felt a little guilty as he watched his dad eat greasy pizza, but he reminded himself over and over that his dad was a grown man who could make his own decisions.

It takes time for the pack to feel normal again, and Stiles sometimes feels a little guilty about that too, but Derek is on his side, so it’s bearable. Derek is the one that had to clean up the mess the pack left when they all stormed out the night Stiles went on strike, after all. Slowly though, one by one, the pack members come to Stiles and each one quietly apologizes for taking Stiles for granted, for not appreciating everything he did for them. Over time, they all begin to take up more responsibility for the pack, and as a result, they feel more invested in the pack too. They become less a group of people thrown together, and more a cohesive unit. Stiles does start contributing again, but he’s careful to only take on his share. And he has to take some deep breaths to not burst into tears the first time a pack member comes over with a haul of junk food for movie night, and they actually thought to bring him Reese’s cups and Twizzlers, his two favorites.

He thought life was good before, and it was. But this? This is better.

#sterek #teen wolf #fic outline #more than I thought I’d wind up writing? but still not a real fic #and I don’t THINK I’ve read this exact plot line anywhere but I’m also very aware it’s not a super original idea #it’s probably completely OOC but i don’t care #because chores suck and one person shouldn’t be responsible for all of them #everyone should contribute

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dangerdangerhighvoltage · 3 years

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Night Off (MC x Kojuro x Tsunamoto)

MC and Kojuro are trying to navigate their relationship after finally hooking up, only for Tsunamoto to crash the party with his chaotic ass. it's double daddy duty featuring one of supporting cast's finest. nsfw!

You never were one to concentrate on one thing at a time.

As you scooped porridge into a bowl, you mentally listed all the letters that were awaiting a response from Kojuro. You carefully laid the soft doughy orb of mochi on top of the porridge while noting you needed to track down that retainer to get his report on how the crops were faring this season. As you attempted to remember the name of some Western book Lord Masamune had requested, the boiling water you meant to pour into the teapot had instead landed on your hand.

“Ahh!” you hissed. Chastised by your own folly, you finally focused on the task at hand, assembling the tray for Kojuro’s afternoon tea break including an extra tea cup for yourself. It had been a few weeks since the incident, and you were relieved that things were starting to feel normal again, if not a little awkward.

The month before last, the clan embarked on a particularly brutal campaign. Upon their return, an abnormally shaken Kojuro promptly made love to you, after a year of working closely late into the night, nursing each others’ hangovers, confiding in each other different ways to help Lord Masamune not be so hard on himself. Kojuro fucked you on his desk on the heaps and heaps of his letters and notes and then again in his bedding, drawing from you something he had left on the battlefield. You were genuinely surprised Kojuro had made good on the attraction between you, but the next day, you could have sworn you overheard Shigezane distributing to a handful of retainers what sounded like payouts for a bet.

You and Kojuro decided that while you both enjoyed yourselves that night and were clearly well suited, it was not the best time to pursue something real, not with the Ashina acting up as they were. The others teased Kojuro endlessly about making an honest woman out of you, and for some reason, a part of you believed he actually wanted to. But the thing about Kojuro was he would never be forced to make a decision about you so long as he had that endless pile of work on his desk to hide behind.

It’s not as if you wanted to be an honest woman anyway.

And so it was as though you started your relationship from scratch, relearning boundaries and reacquainting yourself with some professional distance. The only acknowledgment of your intimacy—other than the fact that he ceased referring to you as his “precious girl”—was the fact that you had started to join him for his afternoon tea every day. And that’s exactly what you were looking forward to doing when you walked back into his office, tray in hand, only to find a brawny, effortlessly disheveled, scar-faced sight sitting in your spot.

“Look what the winds blew in,” Kojuro said to you mischievously.

“Lord Tsunamoto!” you exclaimed, shocked to see the handsome man before you. “To what do we owe the pleasure?”

Whereas Kojuro was seated rather formally at his desk, Tsunamoto sat back outstretched, his chest peeking through his signature, generously loose robe. You’d always been a bit nervous around the man, his lingering eye contact, and general aversion to modesty. You dismissed him as not your type more as a form of self protection, like a chest of gunpowder dodging a spark. Despite being polar opposites, he and Kojuro were thick as thieves when reunited, Kojuro bringing a calm patience out in Tsunamoto, and Tsunamoto reviving a roguish edge in Kojuro.

“Surprised to see me?” Tsunamoto declared more than asked. Why did everything about him seem flirtatious?

“Did you send a letter?” you asked, knowing he hadn’t. “I’d have planned a feast if I knew you were visiting!”

“No need for the fanfare. I’m just passing through for a few days.”

"Too late, I already have a menu in mind,” you said, picking up the teapot. Tsunamoto’s eye locked on the second cup as you poured the tea. Your face heated up as you watched him realize the second cup wasn’t meant for him, that maybe he was interrupting something. You wondered if from just one mundane piece of ceramic, he deduced everything about your and Kojuro’s past. Tsunamoto cocked his head, and directed an inquisitive smile toward Kojuro who was suddenly couldn’t seem to drink his tea fast enough.

"I suppose there’s no point in trying to stop you,” Tsunamoto relented, graciously accepting the cup you offered.

“Believe me, I’ve tried,” Kojuro quipped.

“Uh huh.” Tsunamoto noted. His gaze flickered to you.

“Let me bring you some oshiruko,” you said with a firm smile and a desperate need to catch your breath.

“No need,” Kojuro waved away. “Bring him his favorite dessert.”

You cocked your head at him in confusion. The two men looked at each other in a way that made your cheek tingle.

“Sake,” Kojuro said slyly.

The next morning, you arrived at training, where Tsunamoto had stepped in to lead. After sparring one-on-one with every retainer, he finally approached you.

“Solid form,” he offered as your wooden swords cracked against one another. You had been on the defense the whole time, allowing him to gain ground or at least think he was. Luckily for you, his strength made him slower, and as his body twisted to strike at you, you quickly maneuvered under his swing, striking him in his side in a full low lunge. He let out a laugh as you smiled shyly to yourself.

“I’ve taught her well, huh?” Kojuro called out from afar, who had apparently stopped by to observe training.

“Technique was always your strength,” Tsunamoto called back to him.

You resumed sparring, Tsunamoto hitting a bit stronger and moving much faster than before. With every step you took, he met you there, almost predicting your movements. The confidence you gained now sputtered out as you barely dodged his attacks. Running out of ideas, you tried a new gambit Kojuro taught you but as you spun around, you felt yourself caught in a vise-grip, your back to Tsunamoto’s chest as if he was simply waiting for you to fall into his trap. His arms easily restraining yours, he brought his lips to your ear and lowered his voice, looking directly at Kojuro who was watching the two of you intently.

“See, I know a few of Kojuro’s weaknesses as well,” he said, sending a shiver down your spine.

“Besides, who do you think taught him?” He let you go and jogged back over to the rest of the retainers as if nothing happened. Straightening out your hakama, you looked over at Kojuro who hadn’t taken his eyes off you.

After a full day of cooking and preparing, you tried to make yourself scarce during that night’s feast. You spent the evening running back and forth between the kitchen and main hall, hauling food and empty dishes until someone, you weren’t sure who, grabbed your hand and pulled you down to sit between Kojuro and Tsunamoto. Despite your initial protests, the two of them finally convinced you to stay and enjoy your own handiwork. You relented, and jovially ate, drank, and chatted with the rest of them, until you remembered something.

“Hells, I never spoke to Shiroishi about the crops today,” you confessed with a grimace.

“Yeah, I'm not sure Shiroishi is in any state to discuss much of anything,” Tsunamoto said. Across the room, the retainer in question was somewhere between laughing drunk and falling asleep drunk.

“What kind of master am I?” Kojuro bemoaned. “My own page sitting here thinking about work when she should be enjoying herself?”

“She learned from the best,” Tsunamoto joked under his breath.

“Milord,” you started, “You’re a good ma—”

He turned to you, his face serious. “I want you to forget about all your work. Take the night off and just have a good time, okay?” Since you and Kojuro slept together, “good time” had become something of a loaded term.

“But Milord,” you teased. “Who will keep your desk clear?”

“I can keep my own desk clear for one night, thank you very much!”

“You didn’t even clear it when we—”

You cut yourself off abruptly and bowed your head in embarrassment, suddenly realizing how much you had drank. Tsunamoto let out a satisfied laugh, and you thought Kojuro would strike you down then and there for your slip up. But he merely smirked at you, amused. It’s not like anyone else had heard outside you three—by now all the retainers were completely intoxicated and Lord Masamune had excused himself long ago.

“You didn’t seem to mind at the time, precious girl,” Kojuro fired back with a small, unbearably winning smile. You were at once delighted and flustered by Kojuro’s familiarity and Tsunamoto's presence. You didn’t know what to make of him playing witness to this charged tête-à-tête.

Sensing the tension, Tsunamoto spoke up. "That’s our Kojuro, always with the last word.”

“You see what I have to work with every day?” you fussed, turning to him with a big smile.

"You poor thing,” Tsunamoto said, playing along and touching your cheek. You were surprised by the gesture, but played it off well. You happily sipped your sake, oblivious to the glance Kojuro and Tsunamoto shared, an entire unspoken conversation transpiring above your head.

It was late into the night when the last of the retainers drunkenly shuffled off to their quarters for the night, and Kojuro asked you to bring a jug of sake to his office. When you arrived you were astonished to find the two of them seated across Kojuro’s desk boisterously engaged in a heated match of arm wrestling of all things. Only Tsunamoto could convince Kojuro to engage in such nonsensical activities.

“So these are the brilliant, visionary advisors of the Date clan,” you huffed as they cheerfully welcomed you. You sat down at the edge of the desk and looked back and forth between them before pouring the sake. With great effort, Kojuro finally pressed Tsunamoto’s knuckles into the wood.

“Damn,” Tsunamoto grumbled. They downed the sake and immediately put their elbows back on the table, ready for another bout. You poured more sake and sipped on your own. "Alright, this is the tiebreaker,” Tsunamoto said, flexing his fingers.

“And what is the prize?” you asked.

“A kiss from the beautiful page,” Tsunamoto cracked.

“And smart,” you added.

“Right, a kiss from the beautiful and smart page,” Tsunamoto beamed.

Kojuro looked up at you, concerned. “[Y/n], you don’t have to—”

“Okay,” you said simply. Kojuro was dumbfounded.

“What?”

“I said okay. I will kiss whoever wins this stupid competition,” you said with a shrug. Did those words just come out of your mouth? The two men looked at each other again, and again you felt that tingle in your cheek.

“You heard her, Kojuro,” Tsunamoto said.

“I suppose I did.”

The two readied themselves on Kojuro’s desk, grasped hands and began, but this round was different. For the first time since Lord Tsunamoto arrived, the two men went silent as they strained to defeat the other.

“Kojuro, finally putting up a fight. Desperate for a kiss, old man?” Tsunamoto jeered.

"Put as much effort into training as you do into talking shit and you’d have unified Japan yourself by now,” Kojuro taunted back.

Unable to fathom the scene playing out in front of you, you simply took another shot of sake. It was a total deadlock for minutes until suddenly with a loud crack, both men were sent to the floor. Apparently Kojuro’s poor desk gave out from the pressure of the match or perhaps it had simply lost the will to live after years of neglect and misuse. The three of you devolved into a fit of laughter as you pieced together what had occurred.

“A draw!” Kojuro howled.

“We both lost? How pathetic!” Tsunamoto asked, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye and trying not to laugh again, though you sensed he was relieved at the outcome. The two men sat up on either side of the broken desk, looking down in amused pity.

“Or maybe,” you said timidly. “You both won.”

You couldn’t believe what you had just said. What you had just implied. The two men froze and looked at you, waiting for the catch, for you to burst into laughter and exclaim, “Gotcha!” and tease them endlessly for thinking twice. But you didn’t.

“[Y/n]?” Kojuro asked softly with a nervous smile.

With the latest shot of sake taking effect, you leaned over to him and gave him a firm kiss. His body froze before you, and you instantly cursed yourself for being so stupid and so forward. What were you thinking? You expected him to pull back, graciously reiterate the need for professionalism, and dismiss you for the night, but to your surprise, he dug his fingers in your hair and deepened the kiss. His tongue grazed your lips hungrily and bit your lip the same way he did when you first kissed just weeks ago, and you felt the same rush of sensual relief.

The two of you parted with a small, uncertain smile. You took a breath and looked deep into the torrent of Kojuro’s eyes.

“I’m going to kiss him now,” you said. “Is that alright, Milord?”

“Of course,” Kojuro said with a genuine smile. “He earned it just as much as I did.”

Kojuro watched as you leaned over to Tsunamoto. For perhaps the first time ever, Tsunamoto looked thrown off, almost nervous, which exhilarated you. You lips brushed over his. He looked over at Kojuro questioningly, and Kojuro nodded encouragingly. Satisfied with this, Tsunamoto closed his eyes and drew you closer, hungrily lapping at and biting your lips. You expected him to be an aggressive kisser compared to Kojuro, but there was also a sweetness about the way he gently swept his tongue against yours.

Tsunamoto broke the kiss before you were ready. You hadn’t even noticed that Kojuro had moved the broken table aside and moved closer to you. The two men stood up and pulled you up between them.

“Are you sure you want this?” Kojuro asked. You looked at the dizzyingly handsome men on either side of you. “Want us?”

“Yes,” you panted as you kissed Kojuro again, grabbing his collar. You felt Kojuro loosen your obi as Tsunamoto stood behind you and began to kiss your neck, his hands loosening your collar. You reached to grasp at both of their hair as Tsunamoto opened up your kimono, exposing your breasts.

Kojuro leaned back and took the sight in before leaning down and taking your nipple into his mouth. From behind, Tsunamoto took your other breast into his hand and possessively turned your head to kiss you.

“Nghgh,” you moaned as both the men worked your breasts. Kojuro finally removed your obi and your body was completely exposed. He licked his fingers and placed them between your legs, where he began stroking you. You were already wet, but you had to admit you missed his touch. Tsunamoto slid the kimono completely off your shoulders, his hands trailed down the sides of your body and he grabbed a handful of your ass.

“Fuck,” Tsunamoto exhaled. “You have this parading around your office all day?” You caught a glimmer of pride in Kojuro’s eyes as you set to work on Kojuro’s obi, freeing him of his robes. You were pleased to find he was already hard. You grasped him, and looked behind you to find Tsunamoto removing his own robe.

“Come here,” Tsunamoto said as he lowered himself to the floor and lied down. Kojuro guided you to Tsunamoto’s head and gently pushed you down onto your knees until they flanked Tsunamoto’s ears. You could feel the warmth of Tsunamoto’s breath on your slit. Kojuro stood in front of you, his member in hand. You grabbed it and held it to your lips, teasing his tip with your tongue as Tsunamoto ran his fingers in and out of your folds, spreading them. You finally took Kojuro fully into your mouth just as Tsunamoto pulled you down fully onto his lips and eager tongue. You immediately felt a pulse of pleasure shoot from Tsunamoto’s tongue to your extremities, and you let out a loud moan around Kojuro.

You started to squirm, but Tsunamoto held you in place like a clamp as he lapped you up. There was clearly no escaping your own pleasure—the only thing you could do, really, was take it out on Kojuro. You furiously swirled your tongue around him. Cursing, Kojuro ran his fingers through your hair and pushed further into your mouth, which in turn, made you grind your hips harder on Tsunamoto’s face, who moaned as he sucked on your clit.

“Ride him,” Kojuro growled and you looked up. “I want to see.” He was wearing the same face he was when he watched you at training earlier that day. Feeling your climax start to build up, you began to ride Tsunamoto’s face harder, thrusting your hips back and forth whimpering, his fingers clenched deep in your hips, his tongue unabating. You started to lose focus and could barely hold onto Kojuro, abandoning his pleasure in search of your own. “You’re so beautiful,” he said, captivated, as you grabbed your own breast and unraveled before him on Tsunamoto’s face with a full-throated sigh.

You got off Tsunamoto and collapsed as he got on his knees. "God I hope she feels as good as she tastes,” Tsunamoto said, licking the corners of his mouth.

“He would know,” you said boldly staring down Kojuro.

“Find out for yourself,” Kojuro said. The two men looked at you and you nodded.

Tsunamoto pulled you to him. He sat back on his heels and guided you into his lap, wrapping your legs around him as his tip teased your opening before pushing himself in.

“You feel incredible,” Tsunamoto uttered in amazement. He stretched you out gently.

You surveyed the scar that trailed down Tsunamoto’s brow and onto his regal cheek. Your gaze locked on his other eye and as he began thrusting in earnest, it suddenly became so clear why Tsunamoto carried himself with endless confidence. You watched him roll his hips tantalysingly slow and deep into you, hitting all the right spots.

“How does he feel, precious girl?” Kojuro asked. He was stroking himself at the sight of you.

“He feels so—uuuunnnh!” Your response was interrupted by a particularly deep plunge Tsunamoto took.

You looked back at Kojuro and reached for him, but he leaned back just out of reach with a mean grin. “You need to learn to focus on the task at hand,” he said lovingly. He watched as Tsunamoto drove into you harder and faster, his strong arms essentially keeping you floating as he slid in and out of you. Kojuro was completely entranced, savoring the way your eyes glazed over as his oldest friend in the world fucked the woman he loved if only he'd let himself, wondering if the most precious things weren’t meant to be shared.

Tsunamoto slowed down in an attempt to stave off his own climax. Kojuro kneeled behind you, steadying you as Tsunamoto pulled out of you and you got your bearings.

“Are you alright, precious girl?” You nodded, catching your breath.

“Good. All fours,” Kojuro directed. You did so, swaying your hips in an attempt to further tempt him. Kojuro sidled up behind you and caressed your back, kissing the dimples on your lower back. Your eyes met Tsunamoto’s as Kojuro positioned his cock between your folds and pressed in. You let out a long, lusty moan that bloomed more for every inch he filled you. He hadn’t taken you from behind before, and you wondered how you’d be able to work alongside him anymore after this.

You lost yourself in Kojuro’s languid thrusts and found yourself again, grinding back against him. He whisked you up on your knees, pressing your back against his chest.

“Not a day has gone by that I haven’t thought of you,” he professed softly into your ear. “That I haven’t dreamed of feeling you like this again.” He wrapped his arm around your torso to keep you in place as he dove in and out of you. Tsunamoto crawled over to you and bent down, pressing his tongue squarely on your clit.

“Ahhnn!” You cried out as he raked his tongue up and down from your clit to your opening where Kojuro was thrusting into you.

The sensation was too much too soon, so you grabbed Tsunamoto’s hair, pulled him to your face, and gave him a frantic, sloppy kiss as you took his cock and stroked him. You felt Kojuro lean over your shoulder, and you pulled away.

“She taste as good as she feels?” Kojuro asked as Tsunamoto approached. You watched as the two men took each other by the lips. You joined in, the three of you licking, biting, sucking each other as you pumped Tsunamoto to Kojuro’s rhythm.

Tsunamoto stood up in a frenzy and placed his cock on your lips. You knew he was close, and you took him into your mouth. “You are taking us so well,” Tsunamoto said as you devoured him. As Kojuro devoured you. You whined as you felt the electricity build up in your core.

“Don’t stop,” you pleaded. “I’m so close!”

Kojuro managed to fuck you even faster and harder. He brought his hand between your legs, his fingers fluttering on your clit as Tsunamoto all but fucked your mouth. Kojuro groaned as you screamed in pleasure around Tsunamoto’s cock.

“I’m coming,” Tsunamoto rasped as he ejected into your mouth. You did your best to take it all as you reached your own climax. You felt feverish, heat tearing through your body and cracking you open.

“Come for me my precious girl,” Kojuro snarled in your ear.

You let out a cry as the pleasure rushed through you, leaving you trembling. You tightened unbearably around Kojuro’s cock, and he finally released into you with a curse.

The three of you collapsed on the floor, sprawled in a heap of pleasure and exhaustion and a giggle or two.

“If only every trip to Oshu was this fun,” Tsunamoto simpered. You sighed a chuckle in response.

Kojuro reached up for his kiseru. You caressed his back, muscular by training, worn by war. “You know, [y/n],” he panted. “You should take the night off more often.”

You and Tsunamoto shared a knowing look, both helplessly endeared by the precious, precious man.

#slbp sasuke #slbp smut #slbp kojuro #slbp tsunamoto #katakura kojuro #oniniwa tsunamoto #tsunamoto

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