#what if your sword decided to be a person after all. to be your equal. to be loved better | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cuubism · 21 days

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some canon-verse trans Hob for the lovely @five-and-dimes who recently got top surgery! 🥳🥰 congratulations, I'm truly so happy for you, my friend. please accept this humble offering

“So, it actually started on a dare,” Hob says, on the day he tells Dream the story of him. Or of this part of him, anyway.

Normally, Hob gets a bit guarded the first time he tells someone he’s trans. It’s hard to predict with absolute certainty how people will react, especially ones he’s just become romantically involved with. He’s had it go poorly, to say the least, in the past.

He doesn’t feel that way with Dream. It’s not because there’s so much trust between them—they’re still new, after all. No, it’s something about Dream himself. For all his prickly and standoffish nature, being close to him feels like sinking into a warm lake, into a dark sleep where secrets and hidden wishes float up like glowing reeds to the surface. Deep, personal feelings feel safe with Dream; he cradles them in his hands and soothes them. Or that’s how it feels, when Hob is touching him.

Personification of dreams, indeed.

“A dare?” Dream echoes.

“Sort of," Hob says. "Got frustrated with people saying women should or shouldn’t do this or that or the other thing, so I decided if they felt so strongly about it I’d just be a man. Moved somewhere no one knew me, dressed differently, got stronger, practiced the sword—and that was that. No one seemed to care much, once you were at war. So long as you could swing a sword and not get yourself killed.”

“A choice, then,” Dream says. He’s listening very intently, hands folded on his knees, untouched tea on the coffee table before him.

“At first. Was only after I’d been living that way for a few decades—before and after we met—that I realized while there might be a handful of women out there living as men for the freedom of it, that they didn’t all like it. Given the choice they’d rather just be women in a more equal world. You know?”

Dream hums in understanding.

“But I didn’t want to go back,” Hob continues. “I felt like... who I'd become was the truth of me all along.”

“Identity, while not wholly immutable, is resilient against adversity and circumstance,” says Dream. “You found what your heart wanted you to be, if in a circuitous manner.”

“You seem very unbothered by it,” Hob observes, sipping his tea.

Dream frowns. “Why would I be bothered by it?”

“Dunno.” Apparently he can’t fully shake that this’ll put a wedge in us feeling. “People sometimes are. Feel deceived, or something like that. So they say.”

“If they are deceived, it is by their own assumptions,” Dream says, with disdain. “You should be as you dream yourself, Hob. No more nor less. Put aside these petty physical trappings.”

“I do actually have to live in these ‘physical trappings’ even if you don’t, you silly thing.” He can’t help laughing. “Besides, I rather like being some kind of living creature in the world, rather than what? A ghost? Best I can do is make this body as close to how it should be as possible.”

Hob’s come to like his body, for the most part, in the form that he’s made it. He didn’t always. But he needs a body of some kind to be alive, and he likes being alive. So what he couldn’t change, he made peace with.

Besides, they have hormone treatments nowadays. Brilliant stuff. Makes it so much better.

“Anyway, now you know. I wanted you to. Since we’re together.” It’s still a marvel. Together.

“Thank you,” says Dream, with evident sincerity. “It is a privilege to be gifted your secrets.”

“Not really a secret, but I get what you mean.” He takes Dream’s hand, just to touch him, and admits, “Telling it to you is like… I don’t know. Feels like when I was younger and first admitted out loud, ‘I’m a man. I want to stay like this.’”

It hasn’t been a proper secret in a very long time. But giving it to Dream is like the freedom of releasing a held breath, even so.

“I am the harbor and cradle of dreams,” Dream says in reply. He traces his fingers over Hob’s. Does Dream’s strange form just spring from the ether? Hob wonders. Or does he have to choose it? The way Hob chose his? “Dreams of being and becoming… these are most precious for they grow from tough soil. I can only protect them, I cannot create them. You must do that. And I expect that were I to find you in the Dreaming, there would be a fantastic garden there, indeed.”

Dream himself is the most fantastical thing. “Well, darling, just know your work is appreciated.”

Dream’s lips tip up in a tiny smile. When he meets Hob’s gaze again, his eyes have gone dark and starry. He folds Hob into a hug, and—

oh, it’s like being hugged by the universe itself.

Hob feels the light breeze of a warm dark night, when he’d lain by the dying fire in a war camp in the French countryside, and looked up at a million stars and first whispered to himself what if this is really who I am? Dream is that breeze and those stars. The dying embers that had lit him as he’d run his hands over his body and felt it differently than he ever had before, and been terrified because what would it mean?—but also thrilled and alive. Dream is the night wrapping around him in that moment, the night that was listening to his dreams no matter how quietly he admitted them, Dream is that and more and the voice in his heart telling him it would be okay.

A younger, more uncertain Hob would have needed this. Hob now is older, and he already knows who he is and what he wants, but he falls into Dream’s embrace all the same. A tear slips from his eye, and Dream kisses his cheek, wiping the tear away with his tongue before leaning their heads together.

“I could craft you any body you wanted in the Dreaming,” he says lowly. “However I think the one you have made with your own hands is more remarkable.”

Oh, God, he’s going to tear up again. “Dream, you are the most beautiful, wonderful thing.”

Dream hums in pleasure at the words, and lets Hob hold him close, lets him cradle his head to his chest, a dream kept close to his heart. One that he knew as soon as he saw it walk into the White Horse. Sooner even than he truly knew himself.

Then Dream looks up at him with a hopeful expression. “With these truths revealed, are we able to be intimate?”

Hob laughs so hard he has to tip his head back against the couch. “Wow. One track mind with you, isn’t it? I spill my heart and that’s what I get?”

Dream grumbles, tucking his face in against Hob’s neck to press his lips to Hob’s throat. “I find myself impatient of late.”

“Knew all along you were only with me for my body.” He’s grinning, though. Can’t stop.

“Well. Considering it is such a lovely one.” He plucks at Hob’s shirt buttons. Lecherous little nightmare.

It feels fucking good, though, to be desired.

“C’mere, then,” he says, and drags Dream into his lap.

Dream settles there with a purr, starts playing with Hob’s hair, but says, “I would not truly derail this moment, nor distract from your feelings if you do not wish it.”

“Oh, I wish it. You’ve no idea how much I want you right now. You’re like a prize.” He cradles Dream’s beloved face between his hands. “Stick around for long enough and you’ll get the most incredible Dream at the end of it.”

“Or at the beginning,” Dream says, and Hob’s heart swells so much to hear him voice that that he has to kiss him.

When he does, Dream makes a low, pleased sound, settling deeper in his lap. Yes, this moment, this life, is certainly the prize for all of those years hanging onto those dreams:

the dream of his lover

and the one of himself.

#1389 hob: while you were busy with the gender binary i studied the blade #trans hob #dreamling #my writing #i think after this hob gets to ask his burning questions about how gender works for the endless and dream is just like [meme of marge #simpson holding a potato but it says 'trans and nonbinary people (except desire)'] 'i just think they're neat.#unrelatedly i did have to choose my gender--' and hob's just like 😐.........#[dream a known king of self awareness]#this is like sending someone a casserole when they get home from the hospital except the casserole is gay fanfic XD #a different kind of sustenance...#hope it's okay!! 🥺

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a-world-of-whimsy-5 · 9 months

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"His plaything"

Pairing: Prince Nuada x Fem. Reader (Human / Third person POV)

Themes: Dark | Smut

Word count: 1.6k words

Summary: Nuada searched for a means to satisfy his physical needs. The opportunity presented itself in one of the mortal servants made to serve at court.

Rating: 🔥🔥🔥| Minors DNI. You are responsible for the media you consume. | 18+

Rules and tag form here.

Nuada was a disciplined elf. He spent hours pouring over books and stone tablets in his lord father's great library. When he was not reading, he was sparring.

The crown prince was a warrior without peer, so the singers said. Even when he was but an elfling, it was said no match could be found for Nuada's gift with spears and swords. His father, the high king of all elves, considered him to be the greatest warrior of their people. And the most accomplished. The prince was not just gifted with the blade and well-read; he was also skilled in craftmanship and music and even dancing. It was a strange thing indeed, to see such a brutal warrior glide across a hall like a feather on the wind.

Handsome and charming and dangerous in equal measure, the prince never wanted for company. Nuada was always surrounded by beautiful maidens, all of them vying for his attention. He was unwed, you see, and was expected to take a wife. That was one of his duties: to marry a maiden of the highest birth and produce an heir. The prince understood this. He was more than willing to pledge himself to marriage, but he just needed time to find a bride worthy of him. Until then, he decided, he would find other means to satisfy his needs, for he was a warrior, and as disciplined as he was, he had a warrior's many appetites.

Of course, it must be said that the prince would never sate his hunger by taking another elf to bed. Oh no. Nuada abhorred the very notion of sullying one of his own people that way, no matter how lowborn the elf in question may be. He turned his eyes to the servants instead. They were all mortal hostages taken by his lord father after a great and terrible war. King Balor tolerated them as well as he could manage, and turned a blind eye to how they were treated, provided certain decencies were observed. Those decencies were simple enough: No torture. No working servants to death. No forced couplings. Alas, these edicts had many and more cracks to find if one knew how to find them.

And Nuada found one precisely to his liking.

"Why are you whimpering, little mortal? He grunted. "I thought a good little whore like you wanted nothing less than being bedded by the crown prince Bethmoora."

Whore. That was the choice word he called her, among other things. And yes, y/n did desire the crown prince ever since the moment she first saw him. Her dreams had been haunted by sweet and tender visions of him wooing her before bedding her. She thought that should her dream ever become reality, he would be as generous and courteous and gentle with her as he was with the ladies of his father's court. Such blissful ignorance only lasted until he caught her looking one night while serving his dinner. The prince only waited till his guests took their leave of him before asking her to sink to her knees. He had caressed her cheek, almost in affection, and insisted she open her mouth for him. Not knowing what was expected of her, y/n obeyed. So much had changed since then.

She jolted when he slapped her thigh. His hand was large and had been roughened by centuries of fighting and wielding weapons. It left a mark all of its own. He slapped her thigh again and dug his nails into her flesh. Y/n licked her lips. The prince was expecting an answer.

"I whimper out of pleasure, your highness," she replied as fast as she could, hoping it would please him. She may have felt some pleasure; it was true, but it was so little. The prince would slake his lust upon her body and chase his release, and show little care for her own. As soon as he was satisfied, Nuada would order her to dress and leave.

"You are not lying to me, yes? You do know what happens when people lie to me, yes?"

"I know, your highness. I am not lying, your highness."

Nuada grunted and grabbed her hips, muttering indencies in her ear the entire time. His hands left bruises wherever they touched. Sometime he held her so hard her body would be sore for several days after. Then there were the things he called her, not caring about how they might make her feel. Y/n would not have minded any of it had he shown any interest in her during the act. Or showed concern for her after it.

"Such a good little whore," he said, picking up his tortuous pace and thrusting even harder, filling her as deeply as he could. His nails dug into delicate skin, leaving bruises in their wake. "But you must be fucking silent. I like you that way. Is that understood?"

"Yes, your highness." Y/n lowered her arms and rested her head against the pillows. That allowed the prince to find another angle. He rammed her and found a new place that made her moan long and deep.

"I said be silent!" He barked at her and soon lost himself in her flesh. Nuada moaned and grew drunk on the sound of his thighs slapping against hers. He chose well, he thought. Y/n was meek and discrete and obedient, a maiden who had not known the touch of men until him. She was so soft, her skin warm, and her cunt plush and sinful whenever it fluttered and tightened around his cock. Then there was that sweet little mouth of hers. Nuada enjoyed seeing it swollen and glistening with the remnants of his spend.

The bed creaked softly. Y/n bit her lip and buried her face in the pillows. A heady mixture of pleasure and pain overwhelmed her even as fresh tears coursed down her cheeks. They had sprung from the knowledge that she was a mere plaything to the prince, someone he could use and throw aside once someone worthy of him was in the offing. And there would be someone worthy. Nuada would take an elf-maid hailing from only the highest of births for a wife. She, on the other hand, was a mere mortal, the only child of a petty king who dared to march against King Balor.

"If only your pathetic father could see you now," Nuada grunts and stops just long enough to reach over to gather her wrists. One hand tightens over them, keeping them behind her back. The other curled around her hair. He tugged hard whenever he sheathed himself in her. "A slut servicing her master."

Her father had been allowed to live on the condition that she be sent to court as a hostage. He had no say in where she was placed or whom she had to serve. He was not allowed to know, either. Perhaps this was a mercy.

The air grew thick and heated. The room felt uncommonly warm. Y/n's neck ached from Nuada tugging her hair. Her entire body trembled with each violent thrust. Tiny beads of sweat formed over her skin. Her breath had reduced to shallow gasps and pants. A sweet tension gathered in her core. She was close. So close. But the question remained: will the prince let her have her pleasure just this once?

That was not to be. Nuada felt the coiling in his belly. He was on the precipice of his release, and he had no intention of spilling his seed in y/n's slick heat. As glorious as that would be, he did not wish to risk planting a halfling bastard in y/n's belly. The elves were the children of the earth. The golden blood of the true ancients and the elder gods flowed strong in their veins, and Nauda would never dream of mingling his blood with that of a lesser creature. He drew back and got out of bed, pulling y/n with him as he did. She knew what was to happen next and did well to hide the sadness welling within her.

"Open," he commanded, after she settled on her knees.

Y/n obeyed, letting her mouth go slack while he sank his length all the way in. She kept still while he set the pace, her breath filled with the clean scent of him. His cock was warm and heavy on her tongue. Y/n tightened her lips just enough, just as he taught her the first night. He moaned. She opened her eyes. His head was thrown back, and his mouth was slightly parted. Nuada moved, fucking her mouth and grunting whenever that sinful tongue of hers glided along his member. He sighed wistfully, grabbed at her hair, and went faster and deeper, delighting in the little gagging sounds she made. All y/n could do was keep her hands on her thighs and let Nuada enjoy himself. She was not allowed to touch him during the act or speak to him unless spoken to. He delighted in that too, for he believed that was where mortals like her belonged. Silent and by the feet of their betters.

A few more moments were all it took. "Fuck," Nuada muttered while his cock throbbed and twitched and a warm torrent of his spend spilled onto y/n's tongue. He pressed himself hard against her lips while still riding the high of his orgasm, groaning one last time before finally pulling his cock out of her mouth. The prince ran a thumb over the servant girl's lips, pleased to find them glistening and swollen as always.

"Swallow," he commanded, and brushed a thumb over her tears. He brought it to his mouth, as if to savor the taste. "Swallow my spend like the good whore that you are."

Y/n obeyed, trying not wrinkle her face when the salty essence of him washed down her throat. She knew Nuada would not let her leave until she had swallowed every last drop. Nuada grunted in approval when she opened her mouth and he found it empty. He lifted y/n to her feet and kissed her hard on the lips, his fingers digging into her skin. When he pulled away his eyes glinted in savage triumph.

"Get dressed, and then get out," he said without even looking at her. "I have had my fill of you this night."

Y/n gathered her clothes. Her fingers trembled, as if they had all turned to thumbs. She fumbled with the lacing on her dress, the ties of her neat little apron. She glanced at him. Many a turn of the moon had come and gone since their first coupling, and the prince could not bring himself to even pretend to show her a shred of kindness and respect. Y/n sniffled and looked away.

Nuada made a sound of disgust. "Spare me the sad little doe eyes. I will not fall for it. Now get out and get one of the others to draw me a bath."

Y/n slipped into her shoes and fled into the cold and empty darkness, finding it a welcome relief to the prince's company.

#Dark! Nuada #Prince Nuada #Nuada #nuada x reader #prince nuada x reader #nuada imagine #nuada smut #Hellboy #hellboy imagine #hellboy x reader #fanfiction #Writeblr #Dark! Nuada x Reader #Dark! Nuada imagine #Angst #💫a world of whimsy writes #💫whimsy's plot bunnies

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space--daemon · 10 months

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Would it be possible to hear more of your thoughts about the 5th absorbs the ninth au?

oh my god YES

i'm so deep in my tlt bre fic or i would already be writing this because i LOVE this au and will soon be reading EVERY fic with this concept (some of which are linked in the notes of the original post)

so i imagine this taking place a short while after harrow opens the tomb, a year or two at most

harrow is equal parts devastated w grief and fanatic with adoration for the body in the tomb

she is also NOT in the mood for the ninth to be absorbed by the fifth and is ready to fuckin throw down

of course by throw down, harrow means "glare at them until they go away and also bones" bc she's twelve and that's really all she can do

fifth's first trip to the ninth:

abigail: hel- those people are dead

harrow, currently manipulating the corpses of her parents: (drops from the ceiling like batman) begone, invaders, you are not- griddle!

gideon, who Should Not be there but saw a sword and thought "fuck it": (walks up to magnus) fight me old man

magnus and abigail immediately decide to adopt these children

magnus starts sparring with gideon and getting his ass handed to him, much to aiglamene's delight

abigail begins the daunting task of Earning Harrowhark Nonagesimus' Trust

she explains she doesn't actually want to take over the ninth and harrow can have it once she's eighteen

this inadvertently offends harrow and sets them back a month

the fifth quickly pick up that ortus is Not Into this whole cav business and make the pretty obvious connection that gideon should be harrow's cav and the equally obvious connection that both girls would Rather Die

cut to quinn and pent's epic quest to trick two preteens into accepting the fifth as their caregivers and becoming cav and necromancer

they also become the world's most awkward wingmen

magnus, during a sparring session: say, the reverend daughter looked very regal this morning, didn't she?

gideon, who has already adopted this man as a father figure: what the fuck mags how could you betray me like this

ortus is either besties with the fifth or actually fucking them like abigail pent would one hundred percent take one look at this chubby eloquent caring inept motherfucker and be like I Want That Bear Obliterated

at some point they get it into their heads that the girls need peer engagement so they bring jeanne and isaac to visit

harrowhark nonagesimus, who has never met a person younger than her, watching a nine-year-old jeannemary chatur vibrate with excitement: what the FUCK is That

gideon nav, whose only experience with people younger than her is harrow: what the FUCK is That

#fifth absorbs the ninth!au #tlt fanfic #the locked tomb #tlt #harrowhark nonagesimus #gideon nav #gideon the ninth #harrow the ninth #griddlehark #abigail pent #magnus quinn #jeannemary chatur #jeannemary the fourth #isaac tettares #tlt au

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cal100 · 5 months

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Every day Sanji woke up at the ungodly hour of 5 am to prep breakfast for the Straw Hat crew. Zoro truly didn't understand how he did it or why; why not just make easier meals for breakfast? Everyone liked simple things like bacon and eggs but Sanji insisted breakfast was the most important meal of the day and took almost three hours to prepare elaborate things like fresh baked scones and quiches. Zoro didn't mind in all honesty; he appreciated the hard work his partner put in, but he wanted him to get more sleep in the mornings.

He heard faint noises in the kitchen and decided to head down from his perch in the Crows Nest. Zoro pushed open the door to the Sunny’s kitchen and blinked at the harsh lighting. Sanji turned from where he stood at the refrigerator door to greet him.

“Good morning,” said Sanji with a cheerful smile on his face.

“Mornin’, what's on the menu for today?”

“Croque Madames-that's a sandwich, Cinnamon Rolls, Eggs Benedict, Parfaits, and Sausage.”

It all sounded delicious to Zoro although he wasn't picky which was one of the things Sanji liked about him. He wondered if Sanji would want help with preparing for breakfast. On the one hand, Sanji always liked it when he helped with the dishes, but on the other hand, Sanji hated it when people undermined his cooking abilities. Sanji's voice interrupted Zoro’s musings, “Would you like to help me prep breakfast?” Well, it appears the choice had been taken away from him.

“I would if it won't bother you.”

“Nonsense, I'm always happy to have mon chu around, even when you are a bother,” Sanji smirked at him.

After several hours of Zoro learning how to cut fruit “properly” and “not with a sword, you brute” and buttering a lot of bread breakfast was finally ready. Just in time as well, the other Straw hats were beginning to stumble blearily into the dining room. All seemed delighted by the buffet that spanned the table and equally as surprised to see Zoro in the kitchen, with an apron on nonetheless.

“What's Zoro doing in here?” Nami asked incredulously.

“He helped me prepare breakfast for you all, and he did an excellent job.” Zoro's face flushed slightly.

As the crew members finished their breakfast they exclaimed how much they loved the meal and how spectacular of a job Zoro had done in helping Sanji prepare. Personally, he didn't feel like he had done very much to help and said so to Sanji while they were doing the dishes afterward.

“Mon cœur, you did so much! Honestly, I wouldn't have finished on time without your help because I overslept this morning. I appreciate you and the help you provided me.”

Sanji kissed Zoro on the cheek and went back to drying the dishes. Maybe Zoro would help prep breakfast more often.

#one piece #roronoa zoro #black leg sanji #sanji vinsmoke #zosan

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in1-nutshell · 2 months

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Hello! Another for TFA requests.

So I read/saw 'Optimus Prime, Ratchet, and Megatron's daughters meeting each other', and it was amazing. It got me thinking of this request, feel free to reject this request if you like.

Remember some of your TFA requests, where Cons had siblings?

'Starscream's twin brother with the personality of SG! Starscream' and 'Lugnut has a younger brother', and 'Elita One's twin sister'

If so, I'm wondering if it's okay to have a crossover of these Decepticons' siblings meeting each other.

Thank you!

YES!

More Buddy meets Buddy!

Hope you enjoy!

Elita One's twin sister, Starscream's twin brother, and Lugnut's younger brother meeting

SFW, Platonic, Hinted romance, Cybertronain (minus 1 techon organic) reader

TFA

The cons will be going to Starscream twin’s universe.

In Starscream’s twin universe.

Buddy had been overseeing Starscream on the latest attempt for a portable Spacebridge.

In theory, it wouldn’t work because of its size and compression.

But what would Buddy know about space bridge technology.

Buddy looking at the Constructicons working.

“Are we sure this was a good idea?”--Buddy

Starscream cleaning his servo.

“Who cares.”--Starscream

“I think we should. I mean this isn’t some child’s play after all.”--Buddy

The portal starts sparking.

“Umm. Is it supposed to do that?!”--Buddy

Starscream grabbing a hold of Buddy’s servo.

“No time to find out!”--Starscream

In Lugnut’s younger brother universe…

Buddy is looking around the base for his favorite screwdriver.

“I swear if Blitzwing decided to put it on the high shelf again—”--Buddy

Portal opens on the wall next to him.

Buddy quickly claws the ground trying to stop himself from going inside the portal.

“HELP! LUGNUT! LUGNUT!”--Buddy

Lugnut comes barreling into the main room to find nothing.

In Elita One’s twin sister universe

Buddy is trying to reorganize some data pads that Starscream gave her.

“I take one day off and now I’m under house arrest for a month. This cannot get any worse.”--Buddy

Portal open in front of her.

Buddy shoots some webs to the wall to stop her from getting sucked in.

“I JUST HAD TO OPEN MY BIG MOUTH DIDN’T I?!”—Buddy

Blitzwing comes in.

“Buddy what’s all the noise—WHAT IS THAT?”—Blitzwing

“HOW SHOULD I KNOW THAT THING JUST APPEARED!”--Buddy

Starscream and Lugnut come in but quickly latch onto furniture that was nailed to the ground.

“WE LEAVE YOU ALONE FOR 5 MINUTES AND YOU’RE ALREADY TRYING TO ESCAPE?!”--Starscream

“STARSCREAM THAT IS THE DUMBEST—”--Buddy

Some of the webbing starts to snap.

“ANYONE GOT ANY IDEAS!”--Buddy

“CALL LORD MEGATRON!”--Lugnut

“WHAT?! WHY?! HE’S ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE MOUNTAIN HOW IS HE--”--Buddy

“JUST DO IT!”—Blitzwing, Starscream, and Lugnut

“MEGATRON!”--Buddy

Megatron comes barreling in.

“BY THE PIOUS POOLS THAT WORKED?”--Buddy

Megatron looking at Buddy with some fear in his optics.

“BUDDY! HANG ON I AM COMING FOR YOU!”--Megatron

“WITH ALL DUE RESPECT, WHAT DO YOU THINK I’M DOING!”--Buddy

Megatron slides a bit on the floor impaling the floor with his sword as he reaches for Buddy’s servo.

More webs start snapping.

“BUDDY GRAB HOLD!”--Megatron

“I’M TRYING!”--Buddy

Megatron and Buddy’s servos barely touch before the last web snaps dragging Buddy in.

The portal closes before anyone can blink.

Megatron screams.

In Starscream’s twin universe

Buddy was hanging on to one of the niches of the cave wall while clutching Starscream’s servo tightly. Starscream has an equally steely grip on his twin’s servo.

Then two figures shoot out taking one of the twins out.

The portal stops.

Lugnut Buddy groans as he is etched on the wall upside down.

“This is why I hate portals… 0 out of 10 do not recommend.”—Lugnut’s younger brother

He falls from the wall on his face.

Starscream twin groans as he feels some weight on his chassis.

He sees a different version of his friend Blackarachnia.

Elita Buddy groans as she looks to see… Starscream?

Both look at the position they are in and quickly get off each other.

“Sorry!”—Starscream and Elita One’s twins

“No, I’m sorry. I did kind of plowed into your chassis.”—Elita One’s twin

“But see no harm done.”—Starscream’s twin

“I wouldn’t say—”—Elita One’s twin

“ENOUGH!”--Starscream

Starscream drags his twin away from the two intruders.

“Who are you?!”--Starscream

Elita Buddy raises her servos with Lugnut Buddy.

“My designation is Buddy—”—Elita One’s twin

Starscream scoffs.

“Don’t lie to me! I invented lying!”--Starscream

Starscream’s twin and Elita’s twin look at him in disbelief.

“Lying has been around much longer.”—Starscream and Elita’s twins

Starscream’s twin and Elita’s twin look at each other.

“That was creepy… Anyways the real Buddy is right here!”—Starscream

Points at his twin.

Lugnut younger brother raises his servo.

“I’m also named Buddy.”—Lugnut’s younger brother

Starscream and Elita One’s twins look at him smiling.

Starscream’s twin helps both Buddy’s up on their pedes.

“Well we do have the possibility of this being—”—Starscream’s twin

“An interdimensional portal?”—Elita One’s twin

“In which we all came from our own respected universes inside one big one?”—Lugnut’s younger brother

“…”—All the Buddy’s

“Did we just become best friends?”—Stacream’s twin

“Yes!”—All three Buddy’s

The three high five each other.

Starscream’s twin wraps his arms around his new friends.

“Come! We have to let Lord Megatron know about this!”—Starscream’s twin

The three walk away.

Starscream looks like he is about to have a stroke.

After a brief explanation from Starscream’s twin to the team, Megatron decides to let the newcomers have safe haven until they can get back home. To avoid any confusion between the three Buddy’s they resort to using nicknames.

1 was Starscream’s twin brother

2 was Elita One’s twin sister

3 was Lugnut’s younger brother

“Wouldn’t it be easier to call 1 Twin? He is Starscream’s twin.”--Blitzwing

2 chuckles a bit.

“I’m also a twin, it would make things a bit confusing.”--2

1 and 2 high five each other.

“Twin power!”—1 and 2

“I think I’m going to be sick…”--Starscream

“Oh, suck it up Starscream.”--Blackarachnia

“Oh! I didn’t know I had an alternative!”--2

Blackarachnia gets a bit uncomfortable from the sudden closeness.

“The names Blackarachnia kid.”--Blackarachnia

Buddy scowls a bit.

“I’m not a kid.”--2

“Wow! Are you sure about that? You two have the same scowl.”--1

Both turn towards him scowling.

“We are not!”—2 and Blackarachnia

“…”—2 and Blackarachnia

“Okay maybe there’s something—”--2

“I’m gone.”--Blackarachnia

Blackarachnia leaves the base.

1 pats 2 on the shoulder.

“Don’t take it the hard way. Arachnia… she’s been through some things.”--1

2 just shakes her helm and lets 1 guide her back to the others.

There is a lot of tension at first between the Decepticons and the newcomers but 1 acts as the olive branch between the new comers and his universe’s team.

2 and 3 quickly become attached to him.

The others eventually come around and begin asking questions about their respected universes.

“Okay 3, give us some fun facts.”--1

3 is sitting by 1 and Lugnut.

“Well, I have an older and bigger brother, I’m in charge of the maintenance at the base, and… oh! I like sunflowers!”--3

“You have an older brother? Who is he?”--2

3 shifting a bit in his spot.

“Wouldn’t that make it a bit weird for you guys?”--3

“Nope we’re just curious, even if some of us won’t admit it.”—1

He playfully nudges Starscream who just huffs and looks away.

“…Its Lugnut.”--3

“I’m sorry I didn’t quite catch that.”--Starscream

“I said Lugnut.”--3

Everyone looks at Lugnut who was just frozen in place.

3 looks at him worried and hurt.

“Lugnut? Lugnut? I told you that this was—”--3

Lugnut scoops up the minibot and gives him a hug.

“I have a brother! I have a brother!”--Lugnut

3 now trapped in his brother’s alternatives grip just pats his servo and accepts his fate.

1 turns to 2 who is sitting next to him and Blitzwing.

“Okay, your turn!”--1

“Okay… I’m a techno organic, I’m Megatron’s chief medical officer, and since we are on the topic of flowers, I’ve taken a liking to Jasmen and lavender flowers.”--2

1 nods in approval.

“I like those flowers, but I personally like lilies.”--1

“Is liking flowers something all Buddy’s like?”--Starscream

The three of them shrug.

“Who knows? We’ve only met each other, maybe there’s another Buddy out there.”--3

“Yeah right, like that’s real.”--Starscream

All three Buddy’s stare at Starscream blankly.

2 turns to 1, both having an entire conversation with their optics.

“I don’t like this…”--Starscream

“Me neither.”--Megatron

“What?”--Starscream

“What.”--Megatron

The Buddy’s stick together after the little group talk.

1 and 2 refuse to leave 3 alone anywhere.

They’re kind of worried that he is going to get stepped on.

But that proves to be not a problem.

Lugnut is constantly behind his alternatives brother.

It’s almost comical in how the big lumbering giant follows his ‘brother’ around like a lost duckling.

3 walking with Lugnut through the base.

3 stumbles on a rock.

Lugnut quickly catches him and places him back down, patting his helm before continuing their walk.

When Blackarachnia does eventually come back, 2 doesn’t waste any time to try and get a do over with her.

2 had a feeling she knew who this ‘Blackarachnia’ character was, she just needed to make sure it was true. However, she doesn’t tell her ‘Counterpart’ about it. It would be useless to her anyways.

The talks between the two end up being very therapeutic for both.

2 and Blackarachnia looking at the Constructicons building the potal again.

They both look at each other with optics raised.

“What are they doing?”--Starscream

“The same thing we do.”--1

“We don’t do that.”--Starscream

One of the Constructicons fall on some oil. The other comes to help, but he also slips on the same puddle.

2 looks at Blackarachnia who sighs and hands her some bolts.

“What—”--Starscream

1 looks at Starscream with raised optics.

Starscream raises his with a bit of sass before stopping.

“…Point taken.”--Starscream

1 loves to keep 3 on his shoulders.

3 likes feeling tall and flying a bit with 1 despite Lugnut’s protests.

In exchange, 3 tries to teach 1 some basic maintenance tricks to make things run smoothly.

“And then you take some of the oil and—1 are you even listening?”--3

1 has a weird look on his face.

“What’s up?”--3

1 makes a motion for 3 to look at what he is seeing.

2 is fixing Megatron’s servo while Megatron is talking to her.

“And? 2 said she was a medic? She’s just fixing his servo.”--3

“That’s the thing. His servo doesn’t need fixing.”--1

“What?”--3

“He had it fixed the other day. He also doesn’t like it when we try to fix it if—Oh by the Pious Pools, he’s hitting on her.”--1

3 shakes his helm.

“No that can’t be it. Megatron wouldn’t—”--3

2 giggles a little bit at something Megatron said.

Heart eyes!

1 and 3 have horrified looks on their faces.

“We need to get that portal done now.”--3

“Agreed. It’s almost sickening yet kind of cute--”--1

2 looks at them and walks to them.

“Are you guys, okay? I heard someone say they were sick?”--2

2 starts examining 1 while Megatron just smiles a bit at 2.

Meanwhile in 2’s universe.

Megatron who is in the process of turning the base upside down trying to figure out where Buddy disappeared to.

Megatron gets an unpleasant shudder and starts looking around faster.

The portal manages to get fixed.

But because it was still unstable only one was going to be able to go back home until they could fix it again.

1 and 2 agree for 3 to get sent home first.

It’s a bit of a goodbye between this Lugnut and 3.

A couple days before 2 would be able to go home.

In 3 universe

Buddy gets shot out of the portal at high speed, crashing on the wall upside down.

“Why can’t I ever have a soft, safe landing? Is that too hard for you, universal travel!”--Buddy

“Buddy?”--Blackarachnia

Blackarachnia comes from behind the corner.

Buddy waves a bit before falling face first on the ground.

Blackarachnia flinches a bit before helping him up.

“You’ve got a lot of explaining to do kid. Lugnut’s been going crazy looking for you.”--Blackarachnia

Buddy just smiles softly as a pair of thunderous pede steps comes closer.

“BUDDY!”--Lugnut

#maccadam #transformers x reader #bot buddy #tfa x reader #tfa x platonic reader

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hunn1e-bunn1e · 10 months

Text

With a Mammon-like (Male) reader

🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.

I had a hard time putting Lucifer into the personality so I just decided to make it so they were very responsible and hardworking. Other than that I stuck as close to the original ask as possible.

🌬•♡•🌬•♡•🌬•♡•🌬•♡•🌬•♡•🌬•♡•🌬•♡•🌬

🍷 He loves you so much! You're just so cheerful and precious, it's making his heart clench. Your so kind and selfless that sometimes he wonders if you're even a human.

🍷 While Venti definitely appreciates it, that undying loyalty of yours is kind of throwing off his freedom vibe. Don't you want to relax once in a while? He doesn't need someone to follow his every whim, y'know.

🍷 He's seen your swordsmanship so many times but it never ceases to take his breath away. Watching you mow down hilichurls and slimes inspired him enough to write a balled that he lovingly entitled 'Oh Sword Dancer'.

🍷 You want to protect him? Why? Venti's an archon, you shouldn't have to feel the need to keep him safe, it should be the other way around. Just relax and share a bottle or four of Dandelion Wine with him.

🍷 He noticed right off the bat how you react to even the smallest crumb of his affection. And he absolutely torments you with it judging by how aggressive he is with his affections.

🍷 Venti is thankful that he can trust you with important information, such as him being an archon, and can count on you not telling anyone. He also believes your sense of responsibility is inspiring; he even wrote a song about it.

🌬•♡•🌬•♡•🌬•♡•🌬•♡•🌬•♡•🌬•♡•🌬•♡•🌬

🔥•♡•🔥•♡•🔥•♡•🔥•♡•🔥•♡•🔥•♡•🔥•♡•🔥

🍇 He's just a magnet for extroverts it seems. He definitely sees you as bothersome but he can't deny how much he loves your smile and happy demeanor. You're like the ray of sunshine parting the dense clouds on his rainy day.

🍇 Diluc definitely didn't expect the unyielding devotion you've shown to him. It makes him sort of uncomfortable in a way since he's not used to that kind of genuine care from someone else. But he learns to enjoy it after a while.

🍇 He witnessed your swordplay after you accidentally caught him doing his nightly protection of Mondstadt. To him you were graceful as the wind; dancing with your opponent in fight of life or death. His cheeks were definitely pink after seeing such a thing.

🍇 It felt nice being the protected instead of the protector; like a breath of fresh air. While Diluc felt that he definitely didn't need it, he didn't tell you that and let you continue on with your fantasy. He wouldn't want to disappoint you after all.

🍇 He hardly notices how flustered you get when receiving his affections because he's equally if not more flustered. He's more of a small gestures kind of person and it takes quite a lot of courage for him to do something intimate, so most of the time he's too busy overthinking to notice your reaction.

🍇 Diluc appreciates that you can act appropriately in serious situations unlike a certain cavalry captain. He trusts you wholeheartedly and even divulged information about his past to you.

🔥•♡•🔥•♡•🔥•♡•🔥•♡•🔥•♡•🔥•♡•🔥•♡•🔥

☄•♡•☄•♡•☄•♡•☄•♡•☄•♡•☄•♡•☄•♡•☄

🍵 You sort of remind him of Guizhong.... You're such a sweet person who's always willing to help people no matter what. You always seem to see the good in people too.

🍵 Zhongli isn't exactly shocked when you showed how devoted you are to him. He's used to it; he's a god after all. But soon enough, he realizes you've devoted yourself to him as a lover, and that makes him feel whole in a way.

🍵 When he witnesses your swordplay, he reminisces to you about the time of the Archon War and when the traveler came to liyue in search of their lost sibling. He offers to share some tactical knowledge hes accumulated from the many years of experience he has.

🍵 To say Zhongli was shocked of your protective nature would be an understatement. I mean even if he's retired, he's still an archon. But after a while he realizes that that's just another way of showing that you love him.

🍵 He finds your near inability to withstand his affections to be very entertaining. He'll often try to catch you off guard with a kiss or an intricately worded compliment and watch you absolutely lose your mind with flusteredness.

🍵 You're rare mature moments never cease to catch Zhongli off guard. He never expected such a fun loving person such as yourself to be so serious when he asks a favor of you, no matter how small.

☄•♡•☄•♡•☄•♡•☄•♡•☄•♡•☄•♡•☄•♡•☄

🌿•♡•🌿•♡•🌿•♡•🌿•♡•🌿•♡•🌿•♡•🌿•♡•🌿

🐍 He enjoys how silly you can be, it allows him to relax and enjoy the moments you have together without thinking about his ever declining health. Your bright personality is a nice contrast to Qiqi's lack of one.

🐍 Baizhu is very happy when he learns of your devotion to him and insistence to help him around the pharmacy and with personal tasks. It lets him sit down and rest more often during the day, which he greatly appreciates.

🐍 While he himself is a catalyst user, Qiqi uses a sword. After seeing just how skilled you are with your weapon he brought up the option of you teaching the zombie child a thing or two.

🐍 It took Baizhu a little bit to notice your protective attitude towards him since he doesn't travel about too often. When he did notice, he was glad he didn't have to over exert himself if he needs to protect himself, because he knows you've already got it covered.

🐍 He never noticed how flustered you get because he's in the same boat. He's not used to such intense affection and intimacy; he's usually the one caring for people and occasionally receiving thanks but that's all.

🐍 Baizhu is relieved at how reliable and mature you can be; he's glad he can trust you. He's even taken to sending you with Qiqi when he sends her out to pick up some herbs or has her man the pharmacy when he's out.

🌿•♡•🌿•♡•🌿•♡•🌿•♡•🌿•♡•🌿•♡•🌿•♡•🌿

🌊•♡•🌊•♡•🌊•♡•🌊•♡•🌊•♡•🌊•♡•🌊•♡•🌊

🧋 You remind him of Thoma. Not that its a bad thing though; he thinks its cute. Maybe he'll introduce the two of you one day.

🧋 While he deeply appreciates how devoted and willing you are to be at his beck and call; Ayato already has someone to do all that for him. He'd much rather have you let him take care of you instead. Just let him spoil you, you deserve it.

🧋 Oho? You're a swordsman as well? You'll have to duel him sometime; maybe he could teach you a thing or two; he is a master swordsman after all.

🧋 Ayato noticed how protective you are of him right away and it kind of annoyed him a bit. He doesn't need protection, he can protect himself. He wants to be the protector, he wants to be the provider; just let him take the lead.

🧋 He loves loves loves teasing the everloving crap out of you. You're reactions are just the most adorable thing he's ever seen. It just makes him want to eat you up.

🧋 Ayato does enjoy how reliable and mature you can be at times; for him, that's a very important thing to have in a relationship.

🌊•♡•🌊•♡•🌊•♡•🌊•♡•🌊•♡•🌊•♡•🌊•♡•🌊

🌿•♡•🌿•♡•🌿•♡•🌿•♡•🌿•♡•🌿•♡•🌿•♡•🌿

📚 He probably wouldn't like you at first, to be honest. Considering how he feels about his roommate, Kaveh. Alhaitham's personality being quite antisocial and yours being out going would definitely clash.

📚 Something Alhaitham definitely loves about you is your undying devotion and helpfulness towards him. He believes that, though your attentiveness can be a bit bothersome for him while he's trying to work, you definitely mean well and he doesn't want you to stop.

📚 Your swordsmanship has deeply impressed him time and time again; not that he'd admit that out loud, of course. Maybe the two of you could spar sometime.

📚 Alhaitham has most definitely noticed how protective you are of him. While he definitely doesn't need it, he's quite flattered that you'd go out of your way to make him feel safe.

📚 He thinks it's absolutely hilarious that you can give him affection like it's nothing but the minute he returns it, even with the smallest gesture, you turn into a flusted mess.

📚 Alhaitham appreciates how responsible you are when you're given important tasks; it let's him know he can trust you with just about anything.

🌿•♡•🌿•♡•🌿•♡•🌿•♡•🌿•♡•🌿•♡•🌿•♡•🌿

💼 You two get along like white on rice, both of your personalities are extroverted and somewhat outgoing. The both of you live harmoniously throughout your relationship and rarely fight or even disagree on things.

💼 Kaveh is all about affection! Hugs, kisses, holding hands, gifts, words of affirmation, etc. Anything you give, he will receive and return ten-fold without question.

💼 Though he uses a claymore and prefers it that way, he's very impressed with your swordsmanship. He thinks you look so cool when you're practicing or or fighting some monsters. He has definitely swooned at you once or twice when you're not paying him any mind.

💼 Kaveh loves how protective of him you are, it makes him feel so safe! He returns the favor of course. Sometimes, he jokes about sicking you on his roommate when he's being mean.

💼 He enjoys how flustered you become when he gives you affection; it makes him want to tease you. Your shy nature is just too cute and he has to exploit it as much as possible.

💼 He likes how responsible and trustworthy you are, even if you remind him of his roommate sometimes with how serious you can be, but he wouldn't trade it for the world. You just mean too much to Kaveh for him to do such a thing.

🌿•♡•🌿•♡•🌿•♡•🌿•♡•🌿•♡•🌿•♡•🌿•♡•🌿

🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.

Wanna see similar content? Check out my Masterlist!

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kybercvnt · 2 years

Text

Saber Training

Pairing - Din Djarin x Jedi!GN!Reader

Summary - After reuniting with your favourite Mandalorian and realising how incompetent he is at holding the Darksaber, you decide to help him out.

Word Count - 2124

A/N – Since Bar Fight is my most popular fic, I decided as my birthday present to you (🥳🎉), I would gift you another Din Djarin fluff piece.

Din was utterly pathetic at wielding the Darksaber. Every time he would wield the blade, he struggled to hold it upright, and most of the time it was too heavy so it was dragged behind him. No matter how many times The Armourer would tell him “you are fighting the blade” and he couldn’t for the life of him figure out how to mitigate this issue.

It pained you, a trained Jedi, to watch him resist the blade every time he held it. In battle, you would swing the blades like they were dancing across your fingertips, Din always admired the way they moved so fluidly in motion, sometimes he would get jealous when you would jump and slash through enemies with ease, while he was left with the bells and whistles attached to his armour.

So when he realised after defeating Gideon that he was the new rightful owner of the Darksaber, a part of him was awfully optimistic at the opportunity to be your equal at owning such an overpowered weapon.

When Luke arrived to collect Grogu, he urged you not to join him because of Grogu’s attachment to you, despite you being a Jedi. So you stayed with Din for a while longer, helping him with more bounties while grimacing at his sword fighting skills. Until Ahsoka had managed to contact you and urged you to travel to Ossus to use the attachment Grogu had for his own benefit in becoming a Jedi. You hesitantly accepted and made your final goodbyes to Din before reluctantly leaving him.

When you saw him again on Ossus, you ran into him with a warm embrace.

“What are you doing here?” You whispered into his shoulder. He shivered at the quiet words being said close to his ear. It had been a while since you had seen each other, and your voice brought back all the memories of your adventures together.

“I wanted to give Grogu this…” He said, and he pulled away from the embrace to reveal a neatly tied-up cloth from his pocket. You smiled at the shape. “...And I wanted to see you.” You looked up at the T-shaped visor as he said that, a warmth flooding your cheeks. Then you remembered his face from Gideon’s ship, his facial hair, his scruffy helmet hair, and the sadness in his eyes. You wondered what they looked like when he wasn’t so pained by the attachment he had grown on both you and Grogu.

You walked with him along a trail in the thick bamboo forest nearby, catching up on what you both had done in the span of time since you last saw each other. He continued his bounty hunting, and you helped Luke train Grogu while enjoying the tranquillity of the planet while not having to worry about war for once.

As you both walked deeper into the forest, you reached a large circular clearing. You broke from his side and ran towards the centre, where you pulled your lightsaber hilt from your belt and held it out in front of you.

“Let’s see if you’ve improved.” You requested a duel, and the blade expanded from the hilt, covering you in your lightsaber’s glow. You had at least hoped he had improved somewhat, maybe you could bestow your Jedi knowledge onto him.

He copied your actions and removed the hilt from his belt and held it out in front of him, but when he went to ignite the blade, his stance immediately faltered and the blade fell downwards. Just as you expected, he had barely made any improvements, yet you still wanted to see if he could prove you wrong.

You spun your blade around before charging towards him, lunging and swinging your sword down to greet him. He could block most of your attacks where they were predictable to the average person, but it was the speed he was raising his blade to meet yours was where he looked like he was struggling.

By the time he was able to raise the lightsaber to shoulder-length, it was far too heavy to swing to attack you. While he could barely lift the weapon, here you were, dancing around with such grace and mobility, managing to fit in so many spins and tricks with your lightsaber before you would land another blow to his weapon.

Finally, Din could no longer keep up with the fight and succumbed to the weight of the blade and your lightsaber met his beskar with sparks. His weapon hung loosely at his hips, resting the end of it on the ground as the dirt became charred. You sighed and stepped back, retracted your blade and put it away. He did the same.

“You need to learn how to control your weapon.” You said to him. His heavy breathing was being picked up by his vocoder, you had worn him out. You walked up to him and rested your hand on his arm. The heavy breathing had begun to slow, and you tried searching for those eyes you saw long ago, but they were hidden behind his Mandalorian identity.

You gently tugged him to follow you, and he did so diligently. You stopped him at the very centre of the duelling circle, and you slowly walked behind him, not leaving your hand on his arm.

“Hold the weapon.” There was that sweet whispering he loved so much. Maybe you could read his mind, one of those many Jedi tricks you would spring out of nowhere when it would benefit you both, he would be okay with it if that were the case.

He headed your words and removed the hilt from his belt once more and held it out in front of him. Your hand dragged itself down his arm, touching his wrist. He couldn’t feel it through all the beskar and fabric, but stars did his imagination go wild.

“Breathe.” You whispered again. “Let it be a part of you.” He listened, and he drew in a long and deep breath. Either he was doing it for you or because of you, he couldn’t tell. You were very distracting from the teaching you were trying to inflict on him.

He ignited the blade, and almost immediately the blade became too heavy for him and his arm dropped. He began to grow a little frustrated at not being able to master holding the weapon, let alone using it. Your arm, still fitted on his wrist, slunk itself to the other side and underneath, and you began to raise his arm for him. Just like that, it almost seemed like he was holding it like it was a feather.

“Let it be a part of you,” you repeated, “an extension of yourself.” He breathed in deeply once again, but you could still feel the stress and strain his muscles were feeling in preparation to hold it by himself. “Everybody has the force within them,” you said to him, needing to get him in the right mindset to be able to understand the significance of using such a weapon, “it is up to them to embrace it.

“I am no Jedi.” He responded. You took a moment before speaking, letting only the sound of silence and the whirring of the blade’s energy be heard in that time.

“No, you are not.” It was the truth that he wanted to hear, but did he really doubt himself this much? He had admired your swordsmanship, but now that he felt like a child, he knew he could never be on the same skill level as you. “But it does not mean you can’t be one with the force. Close your eyes.” You commanded him

You couldn’t prove if he had his eyes closed, but he did so anyway. “Feel it around you. Feel the life that lives beyond our control, feel the wind in the leaves, and the water flowing in the river. Feel me.” You were making him meditate, he realised this now, and it all felt a little silly to him. He was a damn bounty hunter and he had forgotten that all this Jedi business was an entire religion for you. Yet he wanted to understand how to control the Darksaber, he was doing this for you.

When you said the last part, his mind went straight back to all the times he had cherished you on your adventures together. When he would see you curled up asleep with the kid, or when he would watch you dance with your enemies and your lightsaber gliding through their bodies. He admired you and enjoyed your presence, so he knew what energy he was aiming to feel.

“Clear your mind.” You told him. You had sensed all of the thoughts racing through his head, distracting him from what he was supposed to be focusing on. Feel me. Feel me. Feel me. Your words kept repeating in his mind. This entire time without you and the kid, he felt lonely. He felt as though he was just filling in time until he could see you next. Now that he was finally reunited with you, he could reflect on this growing attachment to you. But now was not the time. You were trying to help him because you cared, so he paused those thoughts for the meantime, and focused on you, and only you.

“Breathe through the blade. Let it be an extension of your hand, it is a part of you now.” You said and he felt peaceful for once. This was the first time in a long while that he wasn’t thinking about his next bounty, or worrying about you and the kid. He felt the movement of your hand graze the fabric of his glove, and he felt the support of your experienced Jedi hands remove itself from him. Your hand still hovered underneath, in case he faltered, but it surprised both you and him when he continued to hold it out in front of him.

He opened his eyes, bewildered at the sight of his own hands being able to hold it properly for once. The strange sensation of your support lingered, so he twisted his wrist to see if it would stay. The weapon felt like nothing to him. There was a perfect distribution of weight along the blade and it was perfectly balanced.

He retracted the blade and turned to you. He watched you smile, the perfect, soft smile he loved. You were proud of him. He reattached the hilt to his belt before he began to reach for the sides of his helmet. Your smile quickly faded. From the surge of positive emotions like satisfaction and being proud of him to the hesitance of watching him leave his identity rendered you frozen.

In a blink of an eye, you saw that face you had remembered from long ago. It was different from how you remembered it. It was thankfully not as sad as you recalled from that time, but you were so close to him that you read his face easily. You ended up taking a small step back at the shock of such an intimate action. In return, he took a step towards you.

“I can’t pretend I don’t miss you anymore.” He admitted. Your heart swelled at his affection, but it popped soon after when you realised how screwed you were. You could say the same to him as well. There wasn’t a day that went by where you weren’t thinking about him one way or another. His face, or what you thought he was up to, or reminiscing on those times you would study his behaviour while he sat piloting the Razor Crest.

You knew you were screwed when you felt the same attachment to him. It was a foolish thing, and you knew Luke would be highly disappointed in you. Grogu, you knew he would forgive because he was still only a child, but you were a trained Jedi. Maybe it was all that built-up trust you had in one another for keeping to his creed, or all the times you saved each other and realised how dead you both would have been without each other’s support.

Now you were the one clouded in your own racing thoughts. Now you were the one whose face was easy to read. So in your state of realisation, he leant down and placed a kiss on your lips. At first, his intent was only a light peck to test the waters. He knew how much your Jedi code meant to you, but he figured that if he had the opportunity, he would take it. Luckily, you pressed your lips into his, perfectly interlocked with each other.

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katerinaaqu · 29 days

Text

Kinda a prequel to

Originally for @prompted-wordsmith so yeah something I have been working for ages. April 1st for our poor tormented little liar Odysseus 😆

~~~

Guilt (P1)

The noise was deafening. It was a sea of people cheering and whistling; a sea dressed in bronze, leather and blood. Odysseus was pacing among these people keeping his head low. He was trying very hard to avoid gazing someone in the eye. He could hear their praise and yelps of excitement. On occasion he could feel a pat on his back.

"Huzzah! Hooray for Odysseus!"

"Man of Many Ways!"

"The one Equal to Gods! Hooray!"

"Sacker of Cities!"

His ears were buzzing. All sounds around him were silenced or blended together in a mass of unknown origins. His head was throbbing painfully and the helmet adorned with boar tusks seemed to be weighting more than all metal in the world upon it. Just a little longer...just a bit further... Blood had become one with his skin and hair. He could feel it running down still even if it was long now clotted upon him. How weird! Normally every person would be delighted with this triumph. Why couldn't he?

"Sacker of Cities!"

Just a bit further...

"Sacker of Cities!"

His previous noble prancing became a half-run now. He was almost pushing his way through the mixed people of triumph and of woe. Eventually he reached his hut and felt like breathing in relief as he ran in with his close friend coming right behind him.

"Close the damn curtains, Polites!" Odysseus ordered

He half-collapsed over the bronze bowl containing fresh water they had picked up off the river. He remained there for a few seconds, supporting his body over the metallic water container. He looked down. What he saw scared him; it was a warrior staring back at him through the dark depths of the vessel. His head was adorned with a helmet of boar tusk, stained with blood and scratched by some sword. His expression was hard and had sunken eyes in their sockets. The beard was shaggy and splattered with blood. His onyx eyes had a worrying sheen of death, of triumph and of guilt...

"Gods help me...that's me!" He thought in terror

The ambitious, flamboyant and somehow a bit arrogant young man was long gone. He had given his place to this bloodthirsty killer, the face of that man was reeking of sweat, blood and tar from weapons and smoke; the Sacker of Cities. How had they come to this?!

A few days before...

The room was buzzing by the men talking almost at the same time. All the Greek kings were supposed to discuss their plan on their next move but it ended up being a buzzing hive of angry bees that fought for a better place in the sun. Neoptolemus was still thirsty for revenge for hi ls father, wearing his armor proudly. The kid seemed to be one with the damn thing! Odysseus was still cursing the moment he decided to bring him from Skyros. This boy seemed less and less like a good idea for his expedition. Agamemnon was there for the glory of his nation, Menelaus wanted his wife back, this time time from a new suitor that took her as a wife, after the murder of Paris. Nestor was trying to keep them all in check, Diomedes still held a grudge against Paris even long after the mutilation of his corpse. Odysseus thought his head would split by this cacophony of tired and frustrated kings that each one of them wanted something different!

"ENOUGH!" Odysseus bellowed

The silence that followed was deafening as the king of Ithaca practically pranced through the crowded hall and grabbed the bronze scepter, pushing it to the ground.

"EVERYONE KEEP QUIET AND LET ME SPEAK!"

His voice had echoed long enough for everyone to understand that there was no stopping this man now. Odysseus took some raspy breaths as if he tried to collect himself before speaking.

"How much longer must this go on? How much longer should we keep this siege? Can't you see it? It's been a decade already! Troy won't fall! Trojans get new allies and we grow weaker by the year. Year after year after year after year we held this city and for what? How much longer will we stay here? Another 10 years? 20? I do not know about you, my lords, but I refuse to stay here that long! My wife and child waited way too long!"

"Do not wish to be king among kings, son of Laërtes!" A voice was heard over others, "you are not the only one with home and family to return to!"

"My lords, I can speak of no one else but myself. However I believe you shall agree with me that this siege lasted way too long. I have no doubt that there are many people; younger people in this council that can withhold this for the decades to come, but I have long stopped being young, my lords, and I do not intend going back to my home when I reach the age of Nestor and pass the crown to my adult son to retire. There are other kingdoms that require our attention, my lords! Not just this one, but our own!"

A series of hums passed around but Odysseus could feel it already there were some objections or some hesitations. They obviously didn't know what he was talking about.

"The war won't last much longer, Odysseus" Agamemnon the son of Atreus spoke, "we have already cut the tree of succession to the Trojan throne. Both Paris and Hector are dead, you managed to capture Helenos. Troy is losing already. I highly doubt we will stay here much longer"

"With all due the respect" Odysseus interrupted, "as long as there is the line of Priam Troy is not finished. Helen has now joined in matrimony with a new husband. Undoubtedly the widow of Hector will do the same when her period of mourning is done. And line or no line, the walls are still there, my lord, they are mocking us. We cannot break them from the outside"

"Odysseus..." Menelaus now spoke, the man who still believed in him blindly, "What else is to be done? We are not gods to transform ourselves to birds and get in"

Odysseus's eyes sparkled in a determined way as if he managed to hypnotize everyone in the room with just his fiery gaze, his voice sounded clearer than ever.

"I could take Troy in one night if the plan works!"

The seer audacity of his words was greeted with a silent shock and then a wave of chuckle.

"I believe you lost your mind FOR REAL this time, Odysseus son of Laërtes!" Neoptolemus called out arrogantly

Odysseus shot him with a warning glare. He had no idea how that insolent boy had heard about his attempt to avoid that war in the first place pretending to be mad but that was not the time for quarrel.

"I am pretty sure that the black ships of the Acheans rest in this place over a decade for nothing! We could obviously have asked you! I am sure you can also guide us inside the city yourself!"

"I have already infiltrated Troy!" Odysseus claimed.

The wave of exclamations that passed among the kings of the Greeks was delightful as it was annoying to Odysseus!

"We were protected by the gods, Diomedes and I. We disguised ourselves as beggars and walked about the city, I found their secrets, I know the passages! I plundered their temple according to the prophecy!"

With a determined move he threw the palladium of Athena to their feet; proof to his words. The silence he earned was delightful.

"I have a plan...if you choose to accept it!"

"That is not fighting with HONOR!" Agamemnon pointed out, "We do not do that Odysseus!"

"We fought with honor, Agamemnon...10 years now! And where did it lead us? We are still here; debating whether we shall live and die to the foot of Troy when the price is right there before us! If you want results, hear me out!"

As his onyx eyes stared deeply into his audience, he knew he had them now.

"I shall uproot the line of Priam from the city! We can throw them all out of the castle walls of the holy city of Troy! So, my lords, long-haired Acheans, if you want results, hear me out!"

Their silence was his confirmation.

"Here's the plan, then..."

Odysseus growled and snapped out of his flashback. How easy had he made that sound at that time! Even in his own ears such a promise wouldn't appear nearly as horrendous as it was proven to be! He felt a drop of sweat rolling down his chin but it was thicker. He could still feel blood... He grunted in annoyance as he removed that helmet that was crushing his head and sank his hands in the water, brushing them intensely. The water took a reddish sheen almost immediately. Blood was sticking way too much... Odysseus splashed water all over his face maniacally, even passing water over his matted with blood head. It was still there...the memory was still there... he felt dizzy almost. He rushed to the wine jar resting at the side. He broke the wax seal and filled a cup for himself without watering it first. He downed it quickly before having the chance to feel the burning sensation down his throat.

"Odysseus..." Polites started, alarmed

Odysseus didn't hear him. He filled a second cup that was gone the same quickly. He was still shaking.

"Blood..." he whispered, "Blood and death everywhere... plunders and rapes...everywhere..."

He clenched the cup in his hand.

"What have we done, Polites! What have we done?"

"What have I done?!"

"Sire..." Polites began, "this is war..."

A dry laughter escaped Odysseus's lips.

"That was no war, my friend...that was a massacre...a slaughter..."

He drained yet another cup. He was feeling dizzy and he wasn't sure it was the red wine at fault.

"Priam is dead..." he whispered as if in delirium, "...killed upon the altar of Zeus where he sought sanctuary... Cassandra raped right outside the sanctuary at the xoano of Athena...and Astyanax...the child is..."

His voice broke. He covered his face with his free hand as if that could stop the sobbing that was coming out of his thick chest.

"We're cursed, Polites..." he whispered, "Cursed...doomed! The gods won't turn the blind eye in this hubris..." he finished the cup he was holding

"Odysseus...please!" Polites exclaimed concerned, "Even so...what you say is right but still...it was war..."

"I gave them the key to this, Polites..." Odysseus ignored him, "it was MY plan that put them in..."

"Please, Odysseus...you...you didn't know..."

Odysseus chuckled. It was a dry, humorless one...

"Yes I did, my friend...I did...I just chose to ignore it..."

He refilled his cup.

"Odysseus I beg of you at least...at least put some water to your wine...don't do this..."

He placed his hand upon Odysseus's large shoulder.

"And no, that was what you feared...not what you knew. There was no way you would know the magnitude of it...you gave them the city just like you promised. What they did with it it was their responsibility."

If only it were that simple, Odysseus thought.

Soon comes part 2. It will be probably 3 parts plus a footnote section!

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bogkeep · 7 months

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it was always a strange dichotomy. every middle school classmate i had told me i'd be a millionaire when i grew up, a Famouse Artisté. it's easy enough to imagine as a teen, i suppose: skill equals fame equals money. i was doubtful about this prophecy, not because i wasn't confident in my ability to draw, but because it was hard to imagine a world where i'd be paid for it.

it was an ice breaker game at summer camp. horrible one, really - everyone in a group were given a character profile. now we had to imagine that it was the zombie apocalypse, and the helicopter to safety was two seats short and we had argue why we deserved a spot. the character i got was an asshole doctor of some kind. i don't remember if i argued my way into the helicopter or not, but i do remember the feeling that's been hanging over me my entire life - if the apocalypse happens right now, i have nothing to contribute.

there's something really painful about it. i have cultivated a skill for my whole life, i can make art and tell stories that are entirely unique to me, there is no way to get someone else to create in the exact same way i can, and yet - i've contributed more to capitalist society by sitting in an empty hotel reception for eight hours a day.

which made me develop anxiety, to boot.

i illustrated two children's books. they're some of my best work. the contract i signed was industry standard and the indie author who had hired me was incredibly kind... but even after stock sold out i had earnt little more than some pocket change.

in high school we had an outing to dig our own snow caves that we would spend the night in. in teams, thankfully. i have so little physical strength to speak of, most i could do to help was clear away the snow rubble and toss it outside. i know, i know, my classmates reassured me it was an important job to do, i was an invaluable member of the group, sure - but it's that feeling, you know?

what would my task be in the communist solarpunk commune?

a person cannot be useless. it's a human being. they just exist, no ifs and buts about it. one can only be useless in the eyes of an ableist, capitalist society that sees no value in being alive beyond production and profit.

sometimes i receive messages from internet strangers to tell me something i said - often several years ago - was helpful to them. maybe it was a throwaway comment on a forum. maybe it was replying to a question they could've googled the answer to. maybe it was an encouraging reply to someone's artwork. turns out it mattered to someone. huh.

of course you can learn new skills. i have learnt plenty over the years! i have also learnt that there are limitations to what i can do. that some of the obstacles i face are not in fact obstacles everyone faces. it's not that i can't break tasks into smaller steps, it's more that half of those steps are going to be "rinse your hands because you Touched a Thing and now you're going to have to touch Another Thing." i wonder if that's adding to my cognitive load or something.

i was never raised to be a man, so by all accounts i do not understand why i'm so haunted by the spectre of toxic masculinity - what would i do if i was a medieval peasant and a war broke out? what if i was in a pre-historic hunter gatherer society and i was expected to hunt? what if i was a humble farm boy discovering the sword of the chosen one and the world depended on my non-existing courage to face certain death?

look, it's stupid. these are not scenarios i will find myself in. besides, pre-historic humans depended on community and taking care of each other. that's how we survive.

i'm not useless and i decided to make peace with being useless anyway.

we're surrounded by digital clocks. we can't really escape them. do we need watchmakers? would they save me a spot in the zombie apocalypse helicopter? no, don't answer that. i'm just happy i found something that requires a light touch and an observant eye.

#too long for twitter #I AM NOT ASKING FOR ADVICE I AM JUST MUSING AND WRITING A BLOG POST FOR THE JOY OF WRITING BLOG POSTS #not mentioned: the bachelors degree in art history i took to procrastinate with my life.#i would love to work as an illustrator still. if the opportunity to do so comfortably comes along i will take it #but im also happy to pursue my passion in my free time as something that belongs to me #number one question im asked whenever i tell someone i go to watchmaker school is 'BUT DO YOU STILL DRAW??'#it's like asking if i still breathe. yes! i still do the thing that makes me feel alive #it's just. we live in a world that's hostile to Live Comfortably and Pursue Creative Passions at the same time #and a society that can be so largely dismissive of art sometimes; all the while consuming it en masse #ah you probably get it. you dont need me to tell you

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shinra33459 · 11 months

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Skyrim Argonian Husbandos x Human!Reader Headcanons

Art Credit - ArtOfZaromi on DeviantArt

Writing for Argonians. I have mods that allow some of the base NPCs to be followers as well, so this also applies to them as well

Derkeethus

You two first met when you rescued him from Darkwater Pass at the request of his friend and coworker, Sondas. Simple enough of a rescue all things considered. You then recruited him as a follower.

He was quick with a sword and deadly accurate with a bow, not many stood a chance. He had some experience in combat, most likely from some kind of military or mercenary experience.

Wherever he got his experience from, he did know how to communicate with humans better than the average Argonian. Instead of using intricate body language cues that only other Argonians would understand, he used human body language.

Instead of jumping straight into the war, you decided to join the Companions to sharpen both of your skills and bring glory to yourselves.

After becoming the Harbinger, you then dealt with the Dragon Crisis first and foremost; the Civil War was going to have to wait, no matter what Ulfric Stormcloak or General Tullius had to say.

After retrieving certain documents in the Thalmor Embassy showing Ulfric was a Thalmor asset in waiting, you joined the Imperial Legion together.

You ended the war and protected the security of the Empire. Your efforts extended to Harkon and his vampires, as well as Miraak. You married him after all of this and retired to a cabin in the woods, living off the land and hunting.

Scouts-Many-Marshes

You found him working the docks in Windhelm for a meager pittance. He and the other Argonians were cold and hungry, making barely enough to have food in their bellies.

Despite you being a human, he held no ill-will towards you individually, unlike his friend Neetrenaza.

You were disgusted at what the Nords here put these poor Argonians through. Poor pay and living out of a small warehouse room. That wasn't fair, nor was it right.

You exchanged some rather fierce words with Torbjorn Shatter-Shield, their boss. The man knew that if he didn't listen to you, his head would be rolling on the floor of his home.

After the Argonians were getting paid better, he decided to tag along with you in your quests, supporting you however he could. However, he was still very much a newbie when it came to combat.

Both of you joined the Imperial Legion together. Seeing what the Nords were doing in Windhelm alone was enough to stir you into action.

The Civil War was long and bloody, with both of you getting injured at times. Once you two closed in on Windhelm, he left to go back to the city to ensure the safety of the Argonians at the docks.

After the war, you two got married, and took on the Dragon Crisis, the Vampires, and Miraak. After the fighting and adventures came to an end, you two got settled down and enjoyed a nice and quiet life.

Jaree-Ra

You saw the shifty Argonian the minute you walked into Solitude, looking for some person to con into whatever he was planning to do. This close to the coast, he had to be a pirate of some sort.

He enlisted your services to put out the lighthouse fire at the Solitude Lighthouse, ensuring that the Icerunner would run aground. Simple enough of a job to do.

Your hunch about him turned out to be true, when you snuck into the Blackblood Marauders' base of operations and found that Jaree-Ra was going to use whoever put out the lighthouse as a patsy.

When returning to Solitude, you confronted him, and boy was he surprised that you found out. After that, you became an equal partner in that venture.

You were rather clever for a softskin, even more so than himself, and that was a trait he admired. Cunning and intelligence was what you and he needed to survive in your line of work.

Afterwards, you, Jaree, and Deeja joined the Thieves Guild after the Icerunner situation, with you eventually taking the helm of the Guild.

You chose to join the Empire in the Civil War, knowing that Maven Black-Briar would eventually be the Jarl; it was simply a choice of business, not one of morality.

You married Jaree-Ra after the war had come to an end. The Dragon Crisis, vampires, Miraak, and much more got dealt with. Afterwards, you bought a ship and took Jaree and Deeja as some of your crew as you now sailed the high seas as a pirate.

#monster x reader #argonian x reader #skyrim x reader #derkeethus x reader #scouts-many-marshes x reader #jaree-ra x reader #human reader #skyrim

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darkphoenix5037 · 1 year

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Hitta

Welp here is another one. This will be OT7(focus on Namjoon coz he is my bias, but bonds will be formed with others too) with A/B/O dynamics, Vikings influences, with badass but slightly low-esteem oc, stray kids as her platonic family, battle, blood, revenge, game of thrones-esque plot, death and lots of sex.

It will be multi chaptered.

Please share your thoughts and let me know what you think.

P.S. The title means 'to find' in old norse.

SUMMARY- You never really thought that your destiny would take you so far away from home.

CHAPTER 1|CHAPTER-2

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It rains the day you lay eyes on your intended.

In the blood-stained field in front of the castle that you call your home stands him, Kim Namjoon, the biggest warlord the world had ever witnessed. His army consisted of thousands even millions, those savages, as the south would like to call them, were more powerful and disciplined than any army you had ever seen. Their troops were roguish in looks, yes, but their skill in battle was no joke.

Kim Namjoon’s skill in battle was no joke. He fought bare-chested with an axe and a sword; you had heard that he could cut down men with a single sweep of his sword. He was a true demon in battle, as most raiders were, but his skills put the best warriors in your homeland’s army to shame. His great heathen army slaughtered your king’s army by thousands every day, other than leaving hundreds of men injured.

You would know as the chief healer, stitching wounds, cauterizing them, applying salve to burns, cuts were fine. Holding the hands of dying soldiers as they hallucinated their mothers, lovers, wives and sisters was not, not even for someone like you who was used to blood, battle and death.

But you pushed on, for the king, for the country, for the people, you worked day and night you pushed on.

These days the workload had been increased as the king had no taken to treat the prisoners of war as well. The injured and the dying of the heathen army were brought to the camps to get medical assistance if possible and the injured ones were returned to their camps and the dead were returned to the opposing army with respect.

You were not thankful for the workload but what could you do, the king commands and the rest follow.

You were not thankful for the workload but you applauded your king’s nobility nonetheless. Your brother, Christopher Bang was nothing if not noble and kind and humble. Maybe that was why his army were ready to die and kill for him. Maybe it was because he thought of all as equal, be it the duke or the beggar’s son, Alpha, Omega or Beta everyone was equal in the eyes of your Alpha brother.

Maybe that was why you, an Omega, were working in an army camp filled with betas and alphas at all times of the night and day. Maybe that’s why you as an omega, could kill and maim as well as any alpha.

He was strong, your brother, but too kind, too truthful and too righteous for the world that he was in, younger than you but still on the throne for the gods gave him a cock and the second gender of an alpha and you a cunt and the curse of being an omega.

You weren’t brother and sister by blood, you were the orphan the previous king found on a hunting trip, half feral, in the jungle, at the age of seven. You were brought to the castle, Christopher took one look at your small, slight frame, for he was a giant to you even at the age of five, and decided that you would be his noona. You took his hand and resolved to protect him forever. Nothing much was needed after that.

He deserved better though, you thought. Better than this wretched war and that godforsaken alpha Kim Namjoon who is intent on busting down the doors of your home.

Your name being called out draws you out of your mental reverie.

“Princess, the king calls for you at the front.” Ser Seo Changbin of your brother’s personal guard says.

You finish stitching the heathen soldier’s wound and apply salve and bandage before patting him roughly on the shoulder and getting up.

“What is it?”

“The king calls for you. He did not tell me the reason, your grace.”

You gesture ser Changbin to head the way as you follow him to the wall where your royal brother awaits you. He turns towards you as you come near.

“Leave us.” He commands.

“Is everything alright, my king?”

“Call me Chris, sister, how many do I have to repeat that?” he says.

“When we are alone, my king.”

He sighs, but motions to the battlefield, a far away look in his eyes as he looks down upon the ruin the battle has caused on the once green fields.

“We are not going to be able to defend ourselves for much longer if this goes on, sister, Kim Namjoon gets closer to defeating us every day. We cannot keep going for much longer.” He says. He sounds tired, too tired for someone his age.

“Why don’t you sit on the war council with me sister, we could use your skills?”

“You know why, you might not mind your omega sister, one of common blood at that running around with a sword in her hand, but others do. Alphas do, I would rather die than let anyone of them insult you again after what happened. You know better.” You spoke.

He sighed heavily.

You look at your younger brother, he looks as though the weight of the world sits on his shoulders. It does in some way, you think, this kingdom, as large as it is, it is your world.

His world.

He fights for it today, for its very existence.

Of course, the weight of this responsibility weighs him down. He is fighting, not only for his kingdom, but his world, his home.

“Is it time that we seek a truce with them?” You ask.

“We have no leverage; he knows he can defeat us. He needn’t sue for peace to ask for anything, he can take it, all of it.”

The sun has gone down, you see the enemy camp at a distance, its torches shine bright.

“Then we can only hope to reach stalemate, Chan-ah” You call him by the name your mother called him when she was alive and try to calm him down with your scent.

“I hope so”

He suddenly seizes you by the shoulders and says, “Stay near the battle field tomorrow, sister, I feel that tomorrow might be the day- “he stops, his hands trembling slightly.

“I need you by my side noona, I need you there, the troops need their lioness. I need you, We need you. It could be tomorrow that that godforsaken man would break down the doors of the castle. I don’t care about what happened five years ago on that wretched battlefield. I care about now, about today.”

You looked in the distance. Towards the enemy camp and remembered the amount of injured and dead on your hands, the heavy losses and the weeping mothers, fathers, daughters, sons and wives. You had to be there, if not for your sake then for the sake of your country.

“I will be there Chan-ah. Noona will watch over you. Ask my personal 300 to report.”

He takes you in his arms after that, keeping you in his embrace and you let your forehead rest on his broad chest. He holds you tight enough and breaths your scent in, as if you are the only thing keeping him grounded.

Nothing is said after that, as both of you silently carry the fear of tomorrow in your hearts.

…………………………….

The next day clouds gather in the sky as you don your armour.

You hadn’t stepped in the battle field not since the last war, not after what happened five years ago.

Blood.

All that you could see was blood, it stained everything in sight.

Your hand, your face, your armour, the field around you.

There was a strange ringing in your ears, you moved forward regardless, your axe cutting down everyone and everything that stood in front of you.

A voice called.

You knew that voice.

It was coming nearer.

The person was in front of you.

You swung the axe, but people were suddenly holding you back, you could not move.

The voice was closer, louder, shouting.

“Noona”

You gasped as if you had just broken the surface of the water in the lake and looked around.

You saw worried and slightly horrified looks. You saw your brother looking at you, scared and unsure.

In your daze, in your state of berserk, you had tried to kill your brother.

You hadn’t stepped in war since. You were afraid to lose control, afraid that you would kill your own men in that state.

Being a berserker was not easy, the warrior lost themselves in that state, all that mattered was killing, not injury, not pain, not fatigue, just death. You had been stabbed in the arm and calf that day but you had not stopped your killing spree regardless. The title of lioness bestowed upon you that day and your fame as a berserker had spread far and wide.

Stories were told about the omega berserker who had lost herself and battle and killed half a million people in a single day, who had won the war in a single day. No one had dared to attack your homeland after that, until now.

So, for the sake of the king, your brother, and your people you don the armour you had abandoned.

You sighed and headed to your horse, and followed your brother to the battlefield.

………………………………..

#bts #kim namjoon #vikings #namjoon x reader #alpha bts #a/b/o dynamics #badass reader #smut #angst #skz #brother bangchan #love #romance #fluff #bts x you #tw obsessive behavior #obsessive #yancore

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pfirsichspritzer · 1 year

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Rebelcaptain trees for @oh-nostalgiaa (AU, fantasy AU/magic AU/dragon riders and elves AU)

Here is a little AU idea for you, I hope you like it 😊

The moment the stranger steps into the dingy old tavern, all eyes are on him. He is human, tall and imposing, face drawn tight. His clothes are made from the finest fabrics one cannot find in this part of the realm and the sword strapped to his hip, forged from rare metal and emblazoned with precious gemstones, speaks of trouble. Patrons, regulars and travelers alike, muster him with suspicion and barely concealed hostility. They all know what he is. Dragon riders, Fire bringers, Sorcerers, they are called, their kind feared and admired across the lands, even though few have actually seen one in person. Guardians of the queen, keepers of peace, soldiers, flying on their fiery beasts to administer justice throughout the realm. Wherever they go, war isn’t far.

His gaze sweeps over the patrons, seemingly without a care in the world, until it lands on her. Jyn involuntarily shivers.

His footsteps seem to echo through the room as he slowly walks towards her, and they resonate in her very soul. When he stops in front of the counter, studying her with deep, dark eyes, she knows that her destiny has changed, if she wants it or not. He is here for a reason and the reason is her.

“A glass of your finest ale, please”, he orders and puts a handful of coins on the counter, that are more than she makes in a fortnight. He leans closer, and she involuntarily does so as well. His mouth is only mere inches from her ear when he speaks. “I’m here on behalf of the queen. She is looking for a powerful sorceress that is rumoured to live in these parts of the woods.”

Jyn scoffs. “Who told you that nonsense?”

He only musters her intently as an answer and she crosses her arms defensively, after placing the ale in front of him.

“There are no sorcerers in these woods, and we certainly do not need those magic dwelling scallywags here.” She waves her dirty rag dismissively in his direction. “So, do yourself and us a favour and be on your way again as soon as possible”

When she turns to serve the other patrons, she can see his bemused expression in the corner of her eyes. It vanishes as quickly as it appeared.

He waits for her when she leaves the tavern late at night through the backdoor. Leaning against a tree trunk, she almost doesn’t see him in the dark. But her senses have always been better than those of mere humans.

“What do you want?”, she asks, in equal amounts concerned and annoyed.

“I think you haven’t been honest with me before.”

“About what?” He doesn’t answer. Irritated, she turns around to leave.

He follows her.

“I can’t help neither you nor your queen.” She says over her shoulder without slowing her gate.

“Ah, but we both know that isn’t true, is it?”

Angrily she stops on the spot and whirls around, a familiar rage flaring up in the pit of her stomach.

“Let me phrase it differently: I do not want to help your queen. I have left your order years ago, when they decided that my heritage was too much trouble, that my mother’s blood was too dirty for them and the connections I have to the elves because of it, was too dangerous. I had to start my whole life anew, build everything I have here with my bare hands. They would have been glad to leave me for dead and suddenly they decided they want my help?”

He has taken a step back, holding up his hands in an appeasing manner. “Things have changed. The queen recognises that mistakes were made under her predecessor, and she wants to formerly apologize to you.”

Jyn scoffs and shakes her head in disbelief. “Why now?”

“The empire has become a threat in the eastern regions again and apparently, they have a new ace up their sleeve. It is rumoured to have something to do with your father, that he is working for them.”

“My father?” Jyn is barely able to keep her voice from shaking. “My father is dead.”

“We all thought so too. But it seems that he isn’t”

Now he is looking at her with something akin to pity and she hates it.

He seems to notice it too because he is quick to continue: “The queen wants to build an alliance with the elves, against the empire. Both our folks would benefit from it.”

“And she wants me as what? A token? A leverage?” Jyn feels horribly cold all of a sudden.

“She wants you as a diplomat to talk with them.”

“Do you think I would be living here in the middle of nowhere, if the elves cared even a little bit about me?”

It is all so laughable to her. That this new queen, barely a year on the throne, has now apparently decided to uproot her life and throw her back into a conflict she has sworn to take no part in ever again.

He musters her for a second, seemingly unsure if he should continue, but soldiers on, nevertheless “Your mother was the heir to their throne after all, before she ran off with a human.”

The fact that he does know this about her makes her heart clench painfully. So that’s what he meant before when he said she hasn’t been honest. Because she isn’t just a half-elf, but she is the daughter of an elven crown princess that fell from grace. Her tainted heritage that has resulted in her loosing so many good things in her live. Is this the next thing she will lose?

There is no time to focus on her fears now, though, when her blood is still burning with rage. Without another word she turns around and marches on. She hears his quiet sign behind her.

Wordlessly he follows her once more. They walk silently, side by side through the woods until her little hut becomes visible between the bushes and trees.

A giant, dark scaled lizard is napping next to it, his wings as wide as the meadow around her house if unfolded. He lifts his head when they approach, his glowing yellow eyes mustering her critically and he breaths out a puff of smoke.

Jyn involuntarily chuckles and steps forward, lifting her hand to pet his scaled snout. “Hello, Kay. It’s good to see you again. Please don’t set my home on fire, ok?” He just exhales another gust of hot air that ruffles her hair when she scratches his chin.

Her anger has disappeared now, she feels nothing but hollow.

“Let’s go inside”, she says half over her shoulder and doesn’t wait for an answer.

Her little home is cramped, filled with herbs and potions she sells to the villagers around. The money they are able to spare on this medicine is barely enough to get by.

Rogue greets her, jumping up and down, wanting to be held in her arms, even though he is too big for that now. She found him as a little kitten, a half-breed between a housecat and a mountain lion. Abandoned by the lions because he was too weak, feared by humans because he was too wild. Just like her, a part of two worlds but belonging to neither.

A hand gently touches her shoulder.

Slowly she turns around. His eyes are full of so many things: Regret, hut, betrayal.

“Do you despise me now? Because of my mother” Her voice is small, like the scared child she was when her mother died, when her father left her at the doors of the dragon riders order.

He looks vaguely sick even thinking about it. “Jyn, no, of course not.” He takes a deep breath. “I’m hurt you didn’t trust me enough to tell me.”

“I haven’t told anyone in a long time, Cassian. But if I would have trusted anyone enough to tell, it would have been you” She mumbles.

He doesn’t look completely appeased, but holds up his arms and she steps closer, sinking into his familiar embrace. It always makes her forget the world around her for a minute.

After a while where no one says anything, she finally asks: “The queen is determined to find me, isn’t she?”

“Yes. But she doesn’t know where you are. Doesn’t know about this, us.”

No one knows about them. They would have thrown him out of the order as well, the moment they knew. The thought of him losing everything like she had is unbearable to her.

“I can prolong the search for a few more weeks and you can flee, hide somewhere, until it dies down.” His voice is full of determination, he has always been lying on her behalf and if she asks him to continue, she knows he will do so untill his dying breath.

“But she will send someone else, won’t she? She won’t rest until she finds me, I’ll always be on the run.”

His heartbeat in her ear has always been her favourite sound. Though every moment listening to it has been borrowed, stolen time all along. She has the painful fear it is running out.

“And you will be fighting in this war, nonetheless. If my father really is helping the empire, who knows what they will be capable of doing. I can’t protect you from the side-lines.”, she mumbles into his chest.

He chuckles softly. “I don’t need your protection”

“Oh, yes you do, don’t you remember that I always beat your ass in a swordfight.”, she grins up at him, remembering the little boy with the shaggy hair and lanky arms.

“I’m not 12 anymore”, he scoffs indignantly.

“I know”, she says sadly, studying his face, trying to imprint every laugh line and every little winkle into her memory.

She wishes they were twelve again, without a care in the world, just two stupid apprentices in the order, before everything went to hell.

Jyn signs. “I will accompany you to her queen’s court. Listen to what she has to say.”

Cassian pulls her tighter into his embrace and kisses her forehead gently. She knows he feels it too, that their time is running out.

But she cannot run anymore, she has to face the world again and her parent’s legacy with it.

“Will you stay for the night”, she asks him, because if this is their last night together, she might as well enjoy it to the fullest.

“Of course. Always.” He mumbles against her skin and for now it is enough.

Who knows what the future will bring.

#rebelcaptaintrees #rebelcaptain #rebelcaptain au #oh-nostalgiaa #dailyrebelcaptain #rogue one #rogue one au #jyn x cassian #my writing #rebelcaptain moodboard

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cynicalmusings · 2 years

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Hello hello a professional cymp has precipitated into your ask inbox and it's time to brain rot about CYNO

/hurt/comfort incoming, mention of reader getting injured but not too graphic/

*cracks knuckles*

(please forgive me if this sucks I feel a little sick rn and don't feel on top of my form)

You and Cyno are reluctant travel partners. You had first crossed paths in a camp of eremites, where Cyno had instantly drawn his spear at you and commanded you to state your business. You, a trained fighter, were no pushover, and you met his steely eyes gaze with an equally hard one of your own, and refused to yield. You raised your own weapon at him, and demanded he leave your quarry alone. Cyno's eyes narrowed, and he repeated himself in a flat tone of voice with a deadly edge to it, giving you one last chance to run before he rained hell down on you.

Of course, you were not to be put off so easily, and you sparred. To his surprise, you were able to keep up with his parries and thrusts, and an unsatisfying thirty minutes later, neither of you had managed to lay a scratch on the other, shallow breaths heaving both of your shoulders.

In the midst of vicious jabs and strikes, Cyno interrogates you, demanding a reason for your vigilantism. You icily respond that you don't answer to anyone, certainly not to him, pawn of the Akademiya that you said he was. He raises his spear to once again challenge you, when he's distracted by the sound of the returning Eremites.

They had taken the opportunity to run for cover and returned with reinforcements. Now surrounded on all sides, you and Cyno were stood back to back, weapons poised to attack.

"we'll continue our conversation later," he says, with a sidelong glance. "Try staying alive until this ends."

"right back at you" you return, and in a flash, both of you shoot off in opposite directions to make quick work of the menacing group.

The immediate threat eliminated, you both turn around to acknowledge the other's fighting strength before going your separate ways.

However, that wasn't the last you saw of him. After a couple such encounters always while exterminating Eremite camps, you finally decide to put your heads together and talk about your motives.

You tell him you were searching for the suppliers in the knowledge capsule smuggling case, as people in your own village had been taken away and subjected to divine knowledge extraction. Cyno narrows his eyes, and realises you have a lead on the exact same case he's working on. You both decide to share your intel and travel together, now united by a common cause.

Mind you, he's not very warm or friendly even now - he's aware that you're an independent actor and that your motives aligned only temporarily. You journey on through the shifting desert sands in stony silence most of the time, stopping only to share rations or pore over the map together.

Indeed, perhaps that's how everything would've gone if not for an unexpected turn of events.

You tore into the mercenary camp as usual, your sword striking swiftly and precisely. What you had not counted on, however, was that this camp was colluding with the Fatui. And that they had been supplied with advanced ranged offensive machinery, the speed of whose ammunition far outpaced even your trained reflexes.

You and Cyno fought to push them back, until one of the snipers gets a clean shot into your back. Cyno sees your eyes widen as your weapon clatters to the ground and you plant face first into the sand. His eyes flash dangerously. He's a composed man, but that was the closest he ever got to outwardly expressing that he was truly angry.

No words do justice to what he did to those soldiers. It might be safe to say that calamity befell the desert that day.

Cursing under his breath, he immediately hoists you up from the sand, thinking quickly. He carried but sparing first aid supplies on his person; and he couldn't say that he knew how to deal with the bullet, still emanating elemental energy, buried in your back. He was many things, but a medical professional he was not.

Tighnari. Tighnari would know what to do.

He gingerly hoists you up on his back, careful not to jostle you, and begins the three day trek back to Gandharva Ville.

You don't awaken, but your forehead grows hot and a cold sweat trickles down your forehead. In the firelight under the inky desert sky, Cyno looks at you with an expression he's never worn before.

His usually sharp eyes are soft, and indeed, save for the crease in his brow, his visage is almost... Tender?

He silently soaks a small towel in the cold water of the oasis, and lays it on your head in a fruitless attempt to calm the fever.

He lays his back against the tree trunk, his eyes trained on your motionless form, lost in thought.

Soon, he hears a soft murmuring. Ears pricked, he glances around; his hand tightly grasping the hilt of his spear, shoulders stiffened.

It comes again. And then, he feels his heart jump, when he distinctly makes out the syllables of his name.

He snaps up to look at you. Sure enough, you have a pained expression on your face, and your lips are murmuring his name as you lie in the clutches of a feverish, dreamless stupor.

He hesitates. Cyno has no delusions about his own bedside manner, that was best left to people like Tighnari who actually knew what they were doing.

That said.. he's somehow.. come to respect your intelligence. And your perseverance. And your single-minded focus on bringing wrongdoers to justice, even at great personal cost to yourself.

Not unlike himself.

He bites his lip nervously. You didn't deserve to writhe in pain in this unforgiving desert night.

He offers comfort the only way he knows how: he reaches out to take your hand, and gently clasps it. He's seen Tighnari do this to Collei when she had feverish dreams; surely this would help, right?

Your hand clasps his with a pressure he didn't think possible from a sleeping person, and for the first time, for the very first time ever, Cyno's eyes widen; and is that a touch of redness on his cheeks?

It's hard to tell. There is no light in the desert, and even the campfire burns low now.

//I just realised that I would probably like to write this out as a full fledged fic so I'll stop here for now, but I hope you like this idea!!

//apologies this is unedited and my writer brain is at 144p resolution rn

//if you like it then when I finish this as a formatted fic I could probably tag you in it? Let me know, and if not, no problem! 😅

Have a great day/night!

yOU’RE APOLOGISING FOR THIS??

i. need. MOREEEEEEEEEE

he… he’s so soft and… him taking your hand…

if you do continue it, please tag me! i’d love to see the rest of it!

#that was so good ahahahahhhs #i need to stop smiling so widely whenever anything has to do with cyno ffs #sent: seveninchesfrominsanity #cyno x reader #r answers #r contemplates…

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windvexer · 1 year

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waait. how do you actually consistently go from the basic divinatory interpretation to the nuanced and detailed one? currently this level of detail is Exactly what im trying to accomplish. im happy with the feedback i get and the last year and a half ive done more progress than i did in 7 years of reading casually but i lack that oomf.

did you base this on a very specific card combo? is it something that you and your divinatory spirit have agreed on specifically? whats the actual process? btw just wanted to say thanks for posting such consistently cool stuff 🍻 invaluable

Hi! Great question.

I worked heavily with Mystical Origins of the Tarot by Paul Huson during this process, exactly because it cuts through quite a lot of the fluffier nonsense we now see with cards.

When I started developing my notes, I sat down and decided that I would only include statements which were specific enough that they could not apply to a majority of situations.

In more modern texts, almost any card can be applied to almost any situation because the meanings are like, "this is a good time to start a new project! Power is around; is it your power, or someone else's power? Maybe your project should be contemplating power!"

Which is encouragement that applies about equally well to someone deciding what career path to take as someone trying to figure out how to elude the police in a murder investigation.

So the actual process, the lighthouse that was my beacon into a harbor of meaning, was that the meanings I generated must be so specific that a seeker could easily say, "sorry, that's not what's going on with me at all."

Which has made reading a lot easier and a lot more accurate.

Like, if you think of a note to add and get anxiety about it being so specific that seekers would immediately know you're wrong, you're on the right track.

So, as an actual process, I'd open up my word processor, read the entry in that book mentioned above, and start with a few key words.

Ace/Swords Key words: Authority, triumph, and conquest. Borders and confinement, and overcoming them.

I based the key words off of historical meanings of the cards, but also based on my own feelings about the card.

I worked on these notes by contemplating card meanings, exploring my own ideas about the cards, and also trawling modern meanings (after all, people have had great ideas about tarot since the early 1900s - no need to throw the baby out with the bathwater).

Then, I created my notes structured as sentences that might actually be said to a seeker.

Meanings: Do not trust that person. Are you actually helping, or are you steamrolling the victim? No, they're not going to apologize. You're making up a lot of stories to justify your bad decisions, but this time your friends are right.

(**the above meanings I made up for this post; don't add them to your personal notes about the Ace/Swords!)

I added notes until I felt every facet of the card had been explored. I often went back and edited old entries. Often, when working on a new card, I'd realize that it overlapped too much with a card I'd already written up, or that it gave me new opinions on an old card. In these situations I worked with both entries until I was satisfied that the cards were all represented in a unique way.

Some cards ended up relying almost entirely on historical meanings. Some cards ended up being much more modern. Others ended up being a lot less based on external sources at all.

I also took care to note down omens/portents when possible. "This card is an excellent omen; success is assured." "This is one of the worst omens in the deck - there is nothing you can do." And so on.

When I worked with my spirit, he directly told me what to type. A lot of his meanings were much more biting than mine were. He's a very direct guy.

Because the meanings are so direct, reading has become easier - it's a bit like sliding panes of glass over each other and finding the places where the light shines through; the thread of truth common to all cards.

Now, all that being said - I rarely work completely within this system. When actually doing readings, I also use other various methodologies to interpret the cards.

Knowing lots of methodologies of reading tarot is IMO like speaking many different dialects. It's all one language, but as a translator of the cards, you can pick up so much more nuance if you know more forms of the language.

#answered #tarot #divination #tbl

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blackjackkent · 1 month

Text

Rakha is having a fairly wild few days with her companions; we've had Gale start asking for artifacts, Astarion drink her blood, Lae'zel sleep with her, and now Shadowheart's decided to drop some of her backstory.

"There's something I want to talk to you about," she says earnestly, as Rakha - aching all over - trudges past her tent. "Something important."

Rakha pauses, looks at her questioningly. "Well," she says slowly, dragging her jumbled thoughts into some kind of order. "Now I'm intrigued. Do continue."

Shadowheart's expression is screwed up with an air of concentration, of steeling herself for a difficult task. "I could have died in that pod, back on the nautiloid," she says gravely. "You could have died, spending precious moments trying to free me. But you did it anyway. I owe you my life." She swallows, flexes her fingers nervously. "I'm trying to say that you've earned my trust in a way very few ever have. I want that to mean something."

For a brief, perplexing moment, Rakha is concerned that Shadowheart is also about to come onto her. Her night with Lae'zel, after all, was (in her mind - likely not in Lae'zel's) primarily an expression of trust in the wake of everything that has happened so far. And she is not sure she would welcome the same from Shadowheart.

But, to her relief, the cleric continues in a different direction. "I want you to know more about me," Shadowheart goes on. "At least from what I can remember."

She shifts her weight from side to side, then presses on, her words a little more rapid. "As long as I've prayed to Lady Shar," she explains, "I've wished to serve her as a Dark Justiciar. There is scarcely a greater way to fully dedicate yourself to Lady Shar - save perhaps if you become the head of her church. To become a Dark Justiciar is to become the Nightsinger's sword arm - her implement with which she will cast down the unbelievers and win the final battle to restore her perfect, endless darkness."

She sighs. "It's all I ever wanted," she finishes quietly. "I prayed it was my calling. But 'Mother' forbid me from seeking to prove myself worthy of the rank. She said I was not ready." A pause; she scowls bitterly. "Not my mother-mother, I should add. The Mother Superior. Head of Lady Shar's enclave in Baldur's Gate. Sometimes I wonder if she would ever deem me ready. I owe her everything, and I only wish to serve, yet she can prove... inscrutable."

Rakha listens thoughtfully. This is something of an unexpected little speech - but it feels like a peace offering in its own way. Shadowheart knows Rakha's hunger for knowledge, for facts and details about the world. And these are very personal facts indeed.

"I don't understand," she says. "Why be so secret about such an ambition?"

Shadowheart raises one shoulder in a half-shrug. "Dark Justiciars are hated by many. Judged to be ruthless fanatics. Even the few who would accept a follower of Lady Shar would likely balk at a Justiciar in their midst." She pauses, then admits, "But there's a simpler answer to your question. I simply forgot about the desire I had, until I saw some things that reminded me. Now I can't get it out of my mind."

There are subtle undertones to this conversation. Shadowheart decided that it was safe to tell Rakha this - that Rakha's professed disinterest in the nature of her religion was true. And both of them share this lack of memory about things that were, presumably, once critically important.

It's another odd moment of bonding, in spite of the terrible thing that Rakha carries inside her, and the equally terrible things that she's done.

"Thank you for sharing," she says.

#bjk plays bg3 durge #rakha the dark urge #lmao y'all what is HAPPENING #hector got this conversation with shadowheart in GRYMFORGE #he got lae'zel's proposition on the ROAD TO THE CRECHE #how is RAKHA of all people getting this stuff faster #very amused but also it's kind of fun that rakha is bonding with everyone in spite of herself

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