#The dust protection squad is forming

[slytherin-pen]

The Secret

pairing: Xaden x Reader

word count: 2.3k

warnings: ONXY STORM SPOILERS, DO NOT READ FUTHER

a/n: ok so during my reread ahead of OS i caught some foreshadowing whenever Xaden talked about family but specifically when Violet asked if he had any siblings. idk it just rang bells in my head, i honestly thought he would have a secret sibling but then we saw what actually happened..i’m still proud of myself like i caught that shit! anyways, here’s me giving my theory some life. also, happy day 5 of Xaden Week! @empyreanevents

“Xaden what is going on?” you ask as you jog to catch up to his long strides.

He’s been acting weird all day. Being short with you, not kissing you, and seemingly avoiding any physical affection since you and your squad arrived at Riorson House for your two-week rotation.

It was your first rotation in Aretia from Basgiath since leadership came to an agreement of sorts to both protect Navarre and the provinces outside of the wards. You had been excited, Rhiannan and Ridoc teased you constantly during the days leading up to it. It would be the first time you got to spend more than a day there while conscious. When Xaden brought you here after you’d been stabbed by a venin during War Games, you slept most of the time and once you were awake you all rushed out the door back to Navarre for Garrick and Xaden’s graduation.

Now that you think of it, Garrick, Bodhi, and Imogen have been acting weird since you arrived too. You had even asked Rhiannon if you smelt bad—worse than the usual smell you have after being on dragon back for hours—but she said no. Your confusion had only amplified.

An insecure part of you thought that he was about to break up with you. It’s the only explanation you could come up with. His friends are avoiding you. He’s avoiding you. Why else if not for knowing that the moment you arrived after not seeing him for weeks, he was going to end things? It angered you. Sure, they’re his friends, but you thought they were yours too. That you at least had some form of girl code with Imogen, and if she knew your heart was about to be broken she’d warn you. But you also knew their loyalty to him came above all else. That if he asked them not to say anything to you, they would listen.

You lunge, gripping his wrist and he finally stops to face you. “Can you answer me?” you snap. “What the hell is going on?”

He pinches the bridge of his nose as he exhales slowly. “I—just follow me.”

When all you do is glare at him in response, he sighs again. “Please?”

You drop his wrist but put more distance between him as you walk down the halls of Riorson House. If this is really how he breaks up with you, you’re going to be livid. Two years together and this is how it ends? This is how he treats you? You’ll stab him. And then when you’re done stabbing him, you’re going to stab his friends too. You get it. Kinda. He’s officially the Duke of Tyrrendor—or at least has the title back. He has a lot of responsibilities on his shoulders, on top of everything he already has. It’s a lot, and it doesn’t leave a whole lot of time for him to be your boyfriend. But you didn’t mind. Now, you want to kick yourself for sitting around like a lost puppy waiting for him to throw you scraps.

He unlocks a set of double doors with a flick of his wrist and motions for you to enter the room. Your boots scuff along the cobblestone floors as you hesitantly walk inside. The room is bare aside from a square wooden table and three chairs. The lack of dust on the table tells you it had been moved in here last minute for this very occasion. You nearly scoffed. You were definitely going to stab him after this.

Xaden clears his throat. “Just—uh—sit down and I’ll be right back.”

You don’t even get to send him a withering glare before he’s out the door again, shutting it behind him.

You stomp to the chair on its own side, across from the side with the two other chairs, and plop down. Your knee bounces with anticipation. You can tell he’s nervous. You can count on one hand how many times you’ve heard Xaden stutter, but the sympathy you usually feel for him in those moments is nowhere to be found. How does he think you feel? You’re not stupid. You can tell something is going on, and his nerves only exacerbate yours.

Anger flares in your chest. He has no right to be nervous. He’s not the one being broken up with. He’s not the one being ignored and led to a sketchy abandoned room by yourself. What’s next? He tells you that you can’t join your squad on the next rotation? That he never wants to see you again? Tears prick your eyes but you blink them away. He doesn’t get to see you sad. You’ll stab him and then go cry to your squad. You know at least Sawyer would help you stab the others who knew about this.

As your thoughts continue to spiral, the door finally opens again. Xaden stands in the doorway, shielding your view of the hall with his body and the door.

You roll your eyes. “Just spit it out Xaden. I don’t have all day. Might as well get it over with.”

Confusion flashes across his face but he reins it in quickly. “I have something to tell you.”

“No shit,” you scoff.

Again with the confused face. As if he has no idea why you’re so angry. He really does think you’re too stupid to figure it out.

“Just try not to be mad at me,” he pleads softly. “I had my reasons and you know how far I’ll go to protect the ones I love. It’s not that I didn’t trust you, but no one who didn’t already know before the Apostasy could find out. It was the only safe option.”

Now it’s your turn to be confused. Your face scrunches as you look him up and down. What the hell is he talking about?

He pushes the door open the rest of the way as he slowly walks inside. It isn’t until he’s made it past the doorway that you notice something behind him. Correction. Someone.

Your jaw drops as a child—a boy—who looks like the carbon copy of Xaden shuffles in behind him. He couldn’t be older than ten. He has the same black hair and brows. The same tawny skin and onyx eyes. His hands are held behind his back, just like Xaden’s. The perfect, confident posture that you only learn from years of being taught how to carry yourself as a leader. Regardless, you can tell the boy is nervous with the furrow between his brows. The way he keeps looking at Xaden for reassurance.

“My love,” Xaden begins, glancing from you to the boy, “this is my little brother, Jace.”

The boy—Jace—steps forward and dips his chin in greeting. “A pleasure to meet you, Miss.”

Your mouth gapes like a fish, your brain still grappling with the fact you are not being broken up with but instead being introduced to a child.

“Little brother?” you manage to choke out.

Xaden nods, placing a hand on Jace’s shoulder as he guides him to sit down in a chair across from you, Xaden taking the seat next to him. “I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you sooner, but it was crucial no one knew of his existence until it was safe. Now that we have some form of an alliance with Navarre, his presence can be known by others but still kept quiet.”

“I—I’m sorry. You have a little brother. That’s why you brought me here?” you stammer.

Xaden tilts his head as he regards you with his inquisitive gaze. “Yes, love, this is why I brought you here. Why else?”

You shake your head, hoping that rattling your brain around will help unscramble your thoughts. “I’m just shocked is all,” you say. “It’s not at all what I was expecting. It’s wonderful to meet you, Jace.”

Jace gives you a shy smile and looks back to his brother.

“Why exactly has he been kept a secret?” you ask.

Xaden sighs and ruffles Jace’s hair, to which Jace swats his arm away with a glare that could one day rival Xaden’s. “As of right now, he’s my heir. With all the targets on my back, and even Bodhi’s who everyone thinks is my last living relative, it was the only way to keep Jace safe. You want to believe no one would kill a child for the sake of ending a family line, but I wanted to believe an entire kingdom wouldn��t keep venin and wyverns a secret from its people for so long, yet here we are. If anyone high up had known that Duke Lewellen was harboring my little brother—I don’t even want to think about what they would have done.”

You nod solemnly. He’s right. You would want to believe they wouldn’t kill an innocent child but you have seen just how far they’re willing to go to keep their secrets or further their agendas. Jace would have been an easy target.

“So now that you’re back, he doesn’t have to be a secret anymore?” you hedge.

“Kind of. Those who are trusted to come to Riorson House are allowed to know about him, but I ask everyone to not let it leave Aretia. Things are still rocky between Tyrrendor and Navarre despite the treaty, and I won’t take any risks when it comes to him. But now that I’m home to watch over him myself, I feel a little better about letting him out into the world.”

“I can take care of myself,” Jace chides.

You roll your lips together as you try to suppress a smile. He’s practically Xaden Junior and you want to laugh at the absurdity of it all. That your thoughts spiraled to something so terrible when in reality, Jace will probably be the greatest gift. He’ll at least make things a lot more fun around here.

Xaden smirks as he looks down at Jace. “Yeah, I’m sure you could, little man. You’ll give Bodhi a run for his money when he starts training you in combat.”

They joke and tussle each other some more while you watch with a fond smile. Your galloping heart is still slowing, still soaking in the truth, but the sight of Xaden and Jace laughing together soothes you. Xaden is so serious all the time, always brooding or giving orders. It’s nice to see him be a little more lighthearted.

As they calm down and remember their company, the seriousness returns to Xaden’s face as he looks at you. There he is.

“I wanted to tell you first, Xaden murmurs. “But I didn’t get to pick the rotation schedule. I’m sorry.”

You shook your head. “No, it’s alright. I honestly—“ You halted, remembering Jace and deciding it wasn’t best to have this conversation in front of him.

Xaden seemed to realize your hesitation and told Jace to go find Garrick with a pat on his head. Jace smiles at you in goodbye and you return it. Xaden picks up his chair and moved it to your side of the table, leaning so his elbows rest on his knees and gives you his full attention.

You reposition yourself in your seat and grab one of Xaden’s hands to fiddle with his fingers in an effort to calm your nerves.

“I thought you were breaking up with me,” you whisper.

His head rears back, shock clear on his face. “Why the hell would you think that?”

Heat spreads across your cheeks from embarrassment. “You were acting weird. Everyone was acting weird. It’s just the first thing that came to mind, I’m sorry.”

Xaden places one of his hands on yours to stop your fidgeting, forcing you to look up at him. “Don’t apologize. You have nothing to be sorry for. Everyone was acting weird because they knew I’d be telling you today and honestly, I was terrified,” he says, his voice cracking at the end.

Your brows furrow with confusion.

Xaden sighs and scoots his chair closer to you, your knees touching. “In the beginning, I had to keep so many secrets from you. And we promised each other to be truthful after you found out about the revolution. I worried that when you found out…you’d break up with me. It’s why I didn’t let myself touch or kiss you. I thought it would just make it worse for myself.“

“Oh, Xaden,” you sigh. You get up from your chair and crawl into his lap, straddling his muscular thighs as he moves his hands to your hips to support you. Your hands cup his face as you speak. “I don’t blame you for my insecurities. And I definitely don’t blame you for protecting your little brother. It’s quite sweet, actually.”

Xaden scoffs and looks away, a slight blush crawling up his cheeks. You smile at the man you love. The man you are so happy isn’t breaking up with you. It’s the first time you’ve been grateful he had another secret.

Onyx eyes meet yours and you practically melt at the love shining in them. “I’m so glad you aren’t mad at me,” he whispers.

“I’m glad you aren’t breaking up with me,” you whisper back.

His lips find yours, slow and passionate. As if he’s pouring his love into your mouth and making sure you savor every declaration.

He rests his head against yours, your chests heaving as you catch your breaths. “We are going to have a talk about why in Dunne’s name you thought I would ever let you go.”

You laugh, throwing your arms around his shoulders as your head tilts back.

There’s a smirk on his face when you calm down, but his eyes tell you he’s not joking. He won’t be letting this go anytime soon.

“So when do I get to watch Jace kick Bodhi’s ass?” you ask.

This time Xaden is the one to laugh.

[gardens-light]

I loved the previous posts about transformers characters with dc/marvel SO.

how about an SO with Wolverine abilities:). with sharp claws in their hands and super healing abilities,(also immortal). I bet the bots would freak out when their SO die in front of them for the first time but then waking up and shocking them. tfp(optimus, megatron, knockout x breakdown, ratchet, any character you would like to add).

feel free to ignore if you don't like it♡.

That is an awesome headcanon! I can already imagine the shenanigans and reactions that the Transformers would have towards their SO. And not gonna lie, Wolverine is such an awesome character with such unique abilities.

Apologies for the long wait. Hope you enjoy!

Transformers Prime x GN Mutant Reader (Wolverine)

Optimus Prime

First Meeting

Optimus first encounters you during a desperate battle just outside Jasper, Nevada. The Autobots had responded to a sudden Decepticon attack, discovering Starscream leading an ambush meant to lure Optimus into a deadly trap. Amidst the chaos, Optimus notices you—a lone human standing fearlessly amidst swirling dust, battered vehicles, and burning rubble.

He commands urgently over comms, "Arcee, Bumblebee, protect that civilian!", assuming you're an innocent bystander caught in the crossfire.

As Optimus moves to confront Starscream directly, he is astonished to see you charging fearlessly toward a Vehicon squad, gleaming metal claws erupting from between your knuckles with an audible metallic shink. Your movements are swift, efficient, and brutal, slicing through Cybertronian alloy effortlessly.

Pausing momentarily, Optimus stares, optics wide with awe and curiosity, momentarily distracted even in battle. He watches with quiet admiration as injuries you sustain—deep gashes, bruises, and burns—heal within moments, your skin knitting back together seamlessly.

After the battle subsides, Optimus approaches you cautiously yet respectfully. His imposing figure kneels down to your level, offering a servo in greeting, his voice rich and gentle yet filled with wonder:

"Your valor and strength are remarkable—but you are unlike any human I have encountered. May I ask... who you are?"

Your response, a slightly amused smile combined with quiet confidence, sparks something warm within him. Optimus finds himself intrigued not just by your power, but by your poised, unyielding presence.

Witnessing Your 'Death' For The First Time

Months later, during a brutal clash with Megatron and Starscream, you are separated from Optimus amidst the chaos. You fight bravely alongside Bumblebee and Bulkhead, your claws tearing through Vehicons. But Starscream seizes an opportunity, driving his bladed talons straight through your chest, lifting you from the ground with malicious triumph.

Optimus turns just in time to witness the strike, horror flooding his spark as he sees your limp body slide off Starscream’s blade and collapse lifelessly to the ground. An uncharacteristically anguished cry escapes him,"NO!"

His optics burn furiously as he charges forward, delivering a powerful blow that sends Starscream tumbling backward, stunned. Ignoring all caution, Optimus falls to his knees at your side, large servos trembling slightly as he cradles your limp form protectively. He stares down at you, optics wide in pained disbelief, his voice breaking softly, heavy with regret and sorrow. "Forgive me...I failed you."

Bumblebee and Arcee approach hesitantly, their optics dim with grief, uncertain how to console their leader. Optimus remains motionless, silently devastated as he gently brushes dirt from your cheek with heartbreaking tenderness, his massive form hunched protectively over you.

Moments stretch unbearably until suddenly you gasp sharply, eyes fluttering open with a harsh, ragged breath. Your wounds visibly stitch themselves together, bones realigning with audible pops as you revive rapidly in Optimus’s arms.

Optimus’s optics widen in profound shock before relief overwhelms him. He slowly exhales a deep vented breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, shoulders sagging as tension visibly drains from his frame. With infinite gentleness, he cradles you closer, protectively pulling you to his chest, murmuring softly. "Primus, you live... Never again do I wish to experience losing you."

His servos subtly tremble, expressing vulnerability and profound gratitude as he allows himself a rare moment to hold you, cherishing your miraculous return.

Relationship Development

After your miraculous survival, Optimus becomes subtly but intensely protective. Though your healing factor makes you nearly immortal, he privately admits that seeing you in pain deeply unsettles him. He often finds excuses to be near you, quietly ensuring your safety during conflicts. During a serene night at base, after you've recovered from a particularly brutal fight, Optimus gently places his servo near you, hesitating just enough to silently request permission. You smile warmly, leaning comfortably into his touch. His optics soften in quiet happiness, grateful for this growing intimacy.

Gradually, your conversations become longer, warmer, and more personal. Optimus finds solace and joy in your presence, sharing quiet, intimate evenings beneath Nevada's starry skies as he reveals rare glimpses of the burdens he carries. Your resilience and comforting words offer him peace he's rarely known.

One night, after another intense confrontation leaves you emotionally raw despite physical healing, Optimus tenderly lifts you onto his shoulder, carrying you to a secluded spot atop a nearby cliff. Under moonlit skies, he quietly listens as you confess your fears about losing your humanity due to your seemingly endless cycle of healing. His servo gently brushes your cheek, voice filled with profound sincerity. "Your humanity is in your compassion, courage, and warmth—qualities that even eternity could never diminish. I cherish every moment with you precisely because you remind me of what we fight to protect."

In a vulnerable moment, your hands softly trace the edges of his faceplates, smiling affectionately up at him. Optimus's optics soften, his spark pulsing warmly, as he carefully brings you close, resting his helm gently against your forehead. The quiet gesture speaks volumes of trust and profound affection.

Over time, Optimus grows more openly affectionate in private moments. He's gentle, thoughtful, and deeply considerate of your emotions. Despite the differences in your forms, his presence brings you a deep sense of comfort, stability, and belonging.

A particularly touching moment occurs after another harrowing battle. You rest together quietly in the med bay, your body curled warmly against his servo. Optimus quietly confesses his deepest feelings, voice soft yet filled with raw honesty. "You have brought hope and warmth back into my life. My spark knows peace only when you are near." Touched deeply by his admission, you reach up to softly kiss his plating, a gesture of deep trust and affection. Optimus's optics shutter briefly in bliss, silently promising himself that no matter the war's cost, he would forever guard your precious

Knockout and Breakdown

First Meeting

Knockout and Breakdown initially encounter you entirely by accident during a quiet night near Jasper, their primary goal? A clandestine energon hunt. Their sensors detect frantic human movement and weapons fire. Breakdown reluctantly suggests ignoring it, while Knockout, eternally curious, persuades him to investigate.

Upon arrival, they silently witness MECH soldiers aggressively cornering you. But you fight them with feral intensity, claws gleaming dangerously in moonlight, slicing effortlessly through weapons and armor. Yet, you're heavily outnumbered, wounds rapidly accumulating despite your regeneration powers. Breakdown, surprisingly moved to your defence, instinctively intervening, crushing a MECH vehicle beneath his massive fists, his usually hardened spark drawn to your courage. Knockout joins smoothly, a sleek smirk masking genuine curiosity, deftly disposing of the remaining attackers.

When the dust settles, you bloodied but already healing, gazes warily up at their towering frames. Breakdown gently kneels, offering a servo palm-up—an oddly sincere gesture of respect and reassurance. “You’re quite the fighter, aren’t ya?” Breakdown softly chuckles, admiration evident.

Knockout studies you closely, intrigued by your swift healing, commenting lightly yet flirtatiously, “Impressive abilities…and quite an appealing aesthetic, I must say. Perhaps humans aren't all hopelessly fragile.”

Witnessing Your 'Death' for the First Time

One night, with a bellowing roar, Breakdown launches himself recklessly toward your attackers, his grief turning to devastating rage. Knockout, normally calculated and controlled, loses himself in vengeance, fighting fiercely beside Breakdown until their foes scatter or fall.

In the sudden, unsettling silence afterward, Breakdown kneels heavily beside you, his massive servos delicately cradling your limp body, optics painfully dimmed with sorrow. Knockout approaches slowly, voice uncharacteristically quiet and brittle, “I…I didn’t think…humans could hurt us this much.”

Yet before either can fully grieve, you sharply gasp, violently jerking in Breakdown’s gentle hold. Wounds rapidly healing with an unsettling, visceral sound. Breakdown’s optics widen, speechless in stunned relief. Knockout visibly trembles, a soft exhale of disbelief escaping his intake.

“You scared the slag outta me…” Breakdown’s voice breaks softly, protective and vulnerable.

Knockout regains composure with difficulty, voice shaky yet teasingly soft, masking lingering trauma, “Well... try not to make dying a habit. My spark couldn’t handle losing someone so…unique.”

Relationship Development

Over months, camaraderie transforms quietly yet profoundly into something deeply romantic. The unusual trio develops private, tender moments filled with warmth, affection, and quiet intimacy.

Breakdown’s affection is quieter yet deeply sincere, manifesting in gentle protectiveness and heartfelt gestures. He often lets you rest against him during peaceful evenings, carefully shielding your smaller form with his massive frame. One night, under starlit skies, Breakdown shyly confesses, “Before you, I thought humans were fragile…but you changed everything. Made me realize strength isn’t about size or armor, but the... spark-I mean... heart behind it.” You lean tenderly into his servo, softly replying, “You’re one of the strongest sparks I’ve ever met, Breakdown.” He visibly relaxes, leaning his helm affectionately against your gentle touch, savoring the unexpected yet welcome warmth of your bond.

Together, you three created private rituals—peaceful moments after missions spent tangled comfortably together in secluded clearings beneath open stars, with Breakdown’s solid strength and Knockout’s slender elegance framing you protectively. During one serene night, you rest comfortably on Breakdown’s lap, leaning gently into Knockout’s chest plate. Knockout quietly traces soothing patterns along your spine, while Breakdown affectionately strokes your hair. Words aren't needed, each savoring the reassuring, profound feeling of belonging together.

One memorable moment occurs after another frighteningly close call. Knockout, typically composed, gently draws you into his embrace, servo trembling subtly with lingering fear of nearly losing you again. Breakdown quietly joins, gently enveloping both, their combined warmth and reassurance grounding the you deeply. Knockout softly whispers, genuinely vulnerable, “I never imagined a human could claim this much of my spark…but you've made it impossible to deny.” Breakdown murmurs warmly, deep voice comforting, “You made our lives worth fighting for.”

Bumblebee

First Meeting

Bumblebee’s first encounter with you happens entirely by chance. On a routine nighttime patrol around an abandoned industrial area outside Jasper, Bumblebee picks up unusual energon signals indicative of Decepticon activity. His spark pulses nervously—Decepticons rarely appeared alone. Rolling cautiously into an empty storage yard, Bumblebee transforms and quietly creeps forward, optics scanning diligently in the moonlight.

Suddenly, an unexpected sound shatters the silence—a fierce yell followed by unmistakable blaster fire. Bee rushes forward instinctively, optics widening at the sight before him: Vehicons surrounding you. Before he can intervene, Bumblebee freezes in astonishment, his processor momentarily struggling to register what he's witnessing.

You fought with a grace Bumblebee has never before seen in a human, fierce and precise. Blades forged from pure adamantium extend seamlessly from your knuckles, catching the moonlight in a lethal shimmer. You moved like liquid steel, agile and ferocious, slicing effortlessly through Vehicon armor with fearless intensity.

As Bumblebee finally leaps into the fray, you glance upward, gaze briefly meeting Bee’s glowing optics. He can’t help the impressed, awed chirps that escape his vocalizer. Your lips quirk into a small, confident smirk, clearly amused by the Autobot's expressive admiration.

After dispatching the Vehicons together, Bumblebee chirps inquisitively, eyeing you with open curiosity. You retract your claws with a metallic hiss, calmly extending a healing hand to show Bee your closing wounds. Bumblebee’s optics widen further, his astonishment transforming into excitement, as he buzzes rapid-fire questions, gently touching your healed hands with tender awe.

Witnessing Your 'Death' for the First Time

In that first moment, Bumblebee knows he’s found someone extraordinary, and you, for the first time in ages, feel genuinely seen and appreciated.

The first time Bumblebee sees you 'die,' his spark nearly shatters.

The Autobots and you are pinned down by Decepticon fire during an ambush led by Breakdown and Knockout. Bumblebee fights valiantly, constantly aware of your proximity, desperate to shield you from harm. In the chaos, Breakdown strikes you with a merciless, crushing blow, sending you flying through the air and slamming brutally against the cracked pavement.

Everything slows to an agonizing crawl for Bumblebee. He sees Alex’s body crumple limply, their chest unmoving, blood pooling beneath their still form. His processor refuses to comprehend it, denial overwhelming him as an anguished, static-laden scream erupts from his vocalizer. His spark twists painfully, grief slicing through him sharper than any blade.

Bee abandons caution, sprinting recklessly toward your broken body, cradling you gently in his shaking servos. His optics blur with energon-tears, begging in a frantic symphony of beeps and whirrs for you to wake. The Autobots fall silent, sparks aching at Bee's broken cries.

Then, a miracle.

you suddenly gasp sharply, chest heaving, eyes flickering open as your bones mend audibly beneath your skin. Bumblebee nearly drops you in shock, his optics brightening fiercely with disbelief and immense relief. Bee holds you tighter, burying his faceplate briefly against your chest, letting out quiet, relieved whirrs as you softly reassure him with shaky yet soothing whispers.

That day marks a permanent shift in Bumblebee’s spark, his emotions forever entwined with yours, who brought him from despair to hope in mere moments.

Romantic Development

As time passes, Bumblebee and your connection deepens beyond friendship into something profound and unmistakably romantic. Bumblebee falls quietly and deeply, captivated by your fearless resilience, quiet empathy, and hidden vulnerabilities. You, in turn, drawn to Bumblebee’s unwavering kindness, boundless optimism, and the gentle strength he carries effortlessly.

The romance unfolds gradually, punctuated by small, meaningful gestures. Bumblebee often sit quietly beneath the stars with you on his shoulder, softly chirping as you traced constellations together, lost in comfortable silence. Bee found these peaceful moments incredibly special, savoring your warm and calming presence.

After particularly brutal missions, Bumblebee gently holds you, his servos trembling slightly. You softly touche Bee’s armor, murmuring words of comfort and reassurance, your fingers lovingly tracing patterns into the cool metal. Bumblebee cherishes these tender moments, understanding he’s found a soul who deeply comprehends the weight of sacrifice.

Bee expresses affection through playful teasing, gentle nudges, or affectionate chirps, delighting whenever you laugh—a sound he adores more than anything. You reciprocate with subtle tenderness: a warm hand resting softly on Bee’s servo, gentle kisses pressed to Bee’s metal knuckles, and whispered words that make Bumblebee’s spark glow brightly.

Bulkhead

First Meeting

Your paths crossed on a mist-shrouded evening, deep within an abandoned military facility overtaken by MECH. Bulkhead, rolling swiftly onto the battlefield alongside Bumblebee and Arcee, felt his circuits tingle with unease. Shadows stretched sinisterly under flickering floodlights, the air heavy with ozone from discharged weapons.

Bulkhead's scanners immediately picked up human heartbeats, most spiking with fear or adrenaline. But one rhythm stood out—steady, calm, unnaturally composed despite the chaos erupting around. Curiosity piqued, he turned sharply, optics focusing on your small figure fighting fiercely alone against an advancing group of heavily armed MECH soldiers.

You moved with extraordinary agility, dodging gunfire effortlessly, your hands extended into razor-sharp metallic claws that flashed beneath floodlights. You tore through enemy lines with savage grace, seemingly unaffected by the wounds decorating your frame.

“By the AllSpark…” Bulkhead whispered in awe, optics widening.

Suddenly, a soldier managed a close-range shot. A burst of gunfire erupted, slicing through your shoulder, eliciting a pained shout. You fell heavily to the ground.

Bulkhead’s spark jolted with protective instinct, roaring with worry as he thundered forward, knocking aside opponents like toys. As he loomed over you, he prepared himself for the grim sight, fearing the worst.

But to his astonishment, you slowly rose to your feet, breathing heavily as your bloodied wounds rapidly healed, muscle knitting together, skin seamlessly closing as if the injury never existed.

“Whoa, kid! That’s... not normal,” Bulkhead exclaimed, optics wide with amazement and fascination.

Your shot him a defiant, adrenaline-fueled smirk, breathing raggedly yet fearlessly. "Being normal is boring, big guy."

Bulkhead’s spark pulsed with admiration and intrigue, a feeling he couldn't yet name fluttering deep within his spark.

Witnessing Your 'Death' for the First Time

Months later, your bond had flourished into a fiercely loyal partnership. Bulkhead often found himself smiling fondly, captivated by your spirit and resilience. But deep down, he worried about your recklessness, even knowing you could heal rapidly.

On one particularly devastating mission against MECH, a firefight escalated dangerously. Smoke and sparks filled the air. Bulkhead frantically scanned for you, panic tightening his spark when you vanished from his sight.

Suddenly, a chilling scream shattered the chaos. Bulkhead spun around just in time to see you violently flung backwards by an explosive blast, your body crumpling lifelessly onto cold concrete, blood pooling around you.

Time seemed to slow, Bulkhead’s systems freezing in raw terror.

“No!” He screamed, voice raw, agonized. “Y/N!”

He surged forward, optics blazing, knocking soldiers aside with brutal force. Collapsing onto his knees beside your motionless body, he gingerly scooped you into his trembling servos, anguish shattering his composure.

“No… No, no, c’mon! You're tougher than this, right?!” Bulkhead’s voice is shaking, panic and heartbreak evident in every syllable. He gingerly cradled your body, servos trembling with grief as his spark twist painfully.

In that agonizing silence, Bulkhead felt his spark shatter, a suffocating wave of despair enveloping him, darkness creeping into his vision—

And then you gasped sharply back to life, chest heaving, eyes wild with pain and confusion, your body rapidly knitting together tissue sealing your wounds as if reversing time itself.

Bulkhead nearly dropped you, disbelief, relief, and joy colliding into overwhelming shock.

“Primus…Y/N! Are you…are you okay?!” Bulkhead stammers, relief crashing through him.

You gave him a weak, shaky laugh, wiping away blood from your mouth. “I’d say dying sucks—but the wake-up call’s even worse.”

Bulkhead’s relieved laughter quickly fades into gentle scolding, masking his overwhelming relief and joy. He realizes then, deeply and profoundly, just how important you have become to him.

Romantic Development

Bulkhead initially struggles to reconcile your regenerative ability with his own protective nature. He understands you can handle injuries, yet still instinctively shields you in battle, often scooping you up despite your protests.

Your relationship is full of humor and playful teasing. Your resilience allowing you to participate in playful roughhousing with Bulkhead, something the gentle giant deeply appreciates since he's rarely able to interact with humans physically due to his size.

Bulkhead quietly becomes your emotional anchor. Despite your outward bravado, Bulkhead notices moments of vulnerability after particularly traumatic "deaths." He reassures you in these moments, reminding you, you're not alone, reinforcing your bravery and value to the team.

Bulkhead admires your bravery and resilience immensely, viewing you as a Wrecker and equal, despite your smaller stature. Conversely, you appreciate Bulkhead’s unyielding loyalty and genuine care. Your trust runs deep, built on numerous battles, shared victories, losses, and countless nights exchanging stories about Cybertron and Earth beneath desert skies.

After particularly harrowing missions, Bulkhead tenderly cradles you against his chest plates, soothing away the trauma of your repeated injuries, whispering gentle reassurances.

You often spend quiet evenings together in the desert outskirts, Bulkhead gently holding you close as you share whispered dreams, fears, and hopes under endless stars.

You often tease Bulkhead by climbing atop his servo and giving playful kisses on his faceplate, laughing warmly when his faceplates flush adorably.

Bulkhead carefully memorizes your emotional state. After each death, he envelops you tenderly in his servos, gently humming calming Cybertronian lullabies to soothe away your lingering trauma.

[shattereality]

𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐀 𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝐎𝐅 𝐆𝐔𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐌𝐀𝐍

Trigger/Content Warnings: Power imbalance (Astartes x civilian), coercion themes, Violence, Branding, Possessive behavior / obsession, Toxic relationship dynamics, Mild sexual commentary, Distorted morality

Ash curled in the skies of the dead world and every breath was the taste of decay. You stood at the edge of the ruins—watching smoke rise from shattered architecture, the soil black with plasma scorch and ceramite fragments.

Gunfire echoed like thunder in the distance.

You weren't supposed to be here. You weren't supposed to be this close to the front.

Kallexus had told you to remain on the Thunderhawk. Yet you disobeyed the moment smokes rose from the direction his squad went.

Now you stood in the wreckage of what once may have been a garden or temple or library—who knew anymore—and a silhouette emerged from the haze.

Bright blue.

The sigil of Ultramar flickered on the chest of the approaching giant, bright and pristine even beneath the grime of war. He lowered his bolter at the sight of you—a mortal, unarmed, clearly terrified.

The Ultramarine stood tall before you. He reached out a hand—not to harm but to offer. “Come with me, girl. The Emperor protects.”

You stiffened. The Emperor protects? You wanted to scoff, wanted to scream how the so-called God Emperor was but a powerless corpse on a throne and couldn't protect anyone, no matter how much they begged.

Your pulse roared in your ears.

Then—

A crash.

Stone shattered behind you. The tremor of his landing nearly knocked you to the ground.

Kallexus.

He landed with a thunderous crash, a black titan wreathed in the dust and death of the battlefield. His dark eyes cut through the haze like twin blades, fixed not on the Ultramarine—but you.

Giving you a choice, a way out with the Ultramarine if you so desired.

His silhouette towered from behind, black as a moonless sky, cloak snapping in the wind. Lightning flashed somewhere distant—just enough to catch the faint smear of red still drying on his claw.

His presence was a threat. A monster. A promise.

The Ultramarines were the ‘loyal’ ones, weren’t they? The ones who were supposed to be ‘safe’? And yet—You didn’t even think, turning, ran straight toward the beast.

You nearly collided with his leg, hiding behind the cold wall of his armor as if it were safety.

Kallexus didn’t look at you.

But you could feel it. His ego roared like a chainblade. The way your tiny form darted behind his armored legs—his—ignited something primal and blazing in his dual hearts.

He hadn’t felt that kind of surge since the first time he took down a xenos warlord with his bare hands.

The slight shift of his shoulders. The subtle tilt of his chin. He was amused.

His voice cut through the air like a vox blade: “The little one made her choice.” He grinned. A feral, smug grin. “Good girl,” he muttered, almost to himself.

You shivered, he pushed you back with the back of his hand, urging you to distance yourself from the upcoming slaughter.

In seconds, ceramite clashed. Blood smeared the soil. Kallexus was an artist of carnage and the Ultramarines, for all their polished nobility, could not stand before him. He fought like he owned the battlefield and maybe, in that moment, he did.

The Ultramarine’s helmet tilted slightly in effort. “You twisted her into this.”

Kallexus gave no reply. None was needed.

Because your trembling fingers had clutched at the plates of his armor like they were a lifeline. And he knew—without doubt—that you’d chosen him over them.

Even if it was out of fear.

Even if it was survival.

To him, it was enough. It wasn't a choice for you though, Kallexus believed you had made a conscious decision to stand with him.

The reality was starkly different; there was never any choice to be made. The other Astartes, despite his seemingly kind words and caring demeanor had never even been an option.

When the squad returned to the battle barge with victory, the silence was almost oppressive. The echo of your heartbeat in your ears, the chill of your sweat drying, the tremble in your muscles… you couldn’t help it.

Your body leaned forward, pressing into the brutal curve of his chestplate as he carried you effortlessly in one arm, walking through the metal halls. You nuzzled there, like it might shield you from what you’d seen—what you’d chosen.

Kallexus stopped mid-stride.

Your small head was against the imperial aquila on his chest that he hadn’t bothered to deface. Your breath misted faintly against the cold plasteel. Tears dried on your cheeks.

Something twisted in him.

Not pain. Not guilt.

A want.

The kind of emotion he’d been told was weakness. Heresy.

But he wasn’t with the Emperor anymore.

He turned into a shadowed corridor and entered his quarters. Inside, he didn’t throw you down like before.

Instead, he sat—sitting you on his thick leg, as though you belonged nowhere else.

His gauntlet slid over your waist, curling possessively. Your softness beneath his talons sent strange sparks up his spine. He grunted lowly, half-annoyed by the feeling, half-starved for it.

His hand kneaded your side as though committing it to memory—mapping flesh to something that wasn’t war for once.

“You did well, you chose wisely.” he muttered, he sounded... proud?

You couldn't answer, only looking up at him through tear-stricken eyes.

Next day, the scent of scorched metal and disinfectant filled the small chamber. You sat rigid on the low bench, tunic discarded, chest bindings taut across your ribcage.

Your exposed shoulders trembled in the cold. The Raven Guard’s mark was etched above your collarbone in thick, crude ink—waiting to be seared in by the auto-brand.

Kallexus loomed beside you, gauntlet resting on the table beside the branding iron, his crimson gaze locked on your bare skin.

Not with lust—no, there was nothing tender or even desirous about the way he looked. It was scrutiny. Dissection. As if you were a puzzle to be taken apart and understood.

He reached out suddenly, fingers cold and rough against your shoulder as he turned you toward the light with ease, inspecting you.

“You are small,” he said, voice low and dispassionate, like stating a fact on a battlefield. “Soft. Built poorly for war. Your mammaries are... oversized. Impractical.”

You flushed hot with mortification. “They’re called breasts!” you muttered, folding your arms across your chest, trying to twist away.

His hand returned, firm and unrelenting as it gripped your arm, stopping you.

“Language doesn’t matter. You are mine now,” he said, matter-of-fact. “You carry my mark. You will not hide it.”

The auto-brand hissed as it powered on.

[drops-of-moonlights]

and rounding up the Solar System Senshi, the future squad! Which gives me the chance to talk about my version of the Quartet so I'm happy about that lol. More below!

"Under the protection of the Silver Crystal, the Senshi Apprentice of Love and Justice, Sailor Chibimoon! In the name of the future's Moon, I'll PUNISH YOU!"

Tsubasa's first Senshi form! She uses a copy of Usagi's powers, weaker but manageable, and she is. Not happy about that lol. Her collar has 4 stripes and her hair is far closer to Usagi's in this form.

"Fighting in the name of Justice, blessed by the stars, Sailor Eros! And in the name of Justice, I'll crush you!"

Tsubasa's real Senshi form! And all she needed was watching her only friend die! Fun times for this girl. The future Senshi team are united in their gloves having unique ends, no sleeves, and no stripes in their collar.

"Fighting in the name of Grace, Sailor Ceres! Your heart will scatter like petals in the wind!"

Chiara! She's what happens when you mix Minako's flair, Rei's determination and Michiru's ego, aka she's insufferable (affectionate). Unlike canon Ceres she's yellow here just to balance the color coordination better, but she keeps pink for all the wild roses in her attire. Her Senshi power is over flora and wind, her alternate title the Senshi of Spring. All of the future team sans Tsubasa look up to one specific member of the Inners, and Chiara looks up to Rei.

"Fighting in the name of Innocence, Sailor Pallas! I'll make you curl up in regret!"

Paola! Like her original anime counterpart she's somewhat childish with a dark streak the size of the Moon lol. She's actually the oldest of 3 kids (the Quartet isn't related in the AU), so she has her friends to unwind and be less of a second parental figure, hence her childish tendencies. Her orb belt is purely decorative! Her power as Pallas is over weather with a focus on snow/ice, wind and lightning, getting the moniker of Senshi of Winter. The Inner she looks up to the most is Minako.

"Fighting in the name of Willpower, Sailor Juno! I'll grind you into dust for your actions!"

Joana! I made her butch and therefore she gets pants when transformed just like Haruka does. She's attentive and wants to help others, but can be sometimes overbearing in that desire and ends up wanting to do everything herself instead. As Juno her power is over earth, particularly sand and rocks, as well as wind and some level of decay, earning the title of Senshi of Autumn. The Inner she looks up to the most is Makoto.

"Fighting in the name of Instinct, Sailor Vesta! In the name of Vesta, I'll burn you!"

Vera! Fighty girl with a sense of justice as big as her lack of self-preservation. Loves animals. Loves sports. Is actually the smartest of the team, she just doesn't care about how well she does in school lol. As Vesta her power covers fire, light and wind (The Quartet shares Wind as a power as you've seen already lol), focusing on making heatwaves and heat in general, earing the title of Senshi of Summer. The Inner she looks up to is Mio.

"Fighting in the name of Rebirth, touched by the Silence, Sailor Saturn! You won't be able to escape your fate!"

Hotaru 2.0! Now with less trauma! I don't have much to say about her, she's pretty self-explanatory, but fuku-wise she doesnt' get the classic petal sleeves until her upgrade form and she has dark thights now. The Inner she looks up to the most is Usagi, which causes minor conflict with Tsubasa.

"Fighting in the name of Insight, Sailor Nemesis! You'll reflect on your wrongdoing right this instant!"

And we end with Lia! The youngest of the team, she's quiet and shy when not with her friends, but she's vindictive and tries really hard to not let her feelings get the best of her. She also prefers to leave others to take care of important stuff. As stated before, Nemesis has powers over mirrors and reflections, giving her minor control over metal, light, darkness and even water. The Inner she looks up to the most is Ami.

[brisquad-unit-4402]

sitting with vox and the truth

(spoilers obvs)

happy the demon hungers everyone :D i did two watchalongs with my friends i hope we all show our appreciation to vox. he’s worked very hard and he’s very considerate of us his fans

this is all just to say that after a long, long, long two weeks i would like to rest so nicely on his chest. naturally i walked into this planning to write that but it turned into another vox breakdown fic which, really, couldn’t be a better description of unit 4402 if you tried

tags: gender neutral reader, angst, themes of self-hate, vox has a breakdown, spoilers for the demon hungers and the truth, ambiguous relationship (romantic intended but can be read as platonic; reader says “i love you”)

⚠️ spoilers for the demon hungers / the truth, vox akuma.

⚠️ contains self-deprecating dialogue

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

wings of melded leather and flesh writhe in the home of vox akuma. a dethroned lord, a wretched infernal. such a a wide reach. the talons of the wing threaten to scrape the ceiling with his greater height, while the membranous tatters hang loosely. if he represented Hell it would be a king’s robe. under wall and lamplight the sheet of skin is his chain.

gravity weighs down his voice all the same. it sinks his shoulders, drips off his hair and down his back. seven feet tall, with a shadow to cast over your body so small in comparison, and yet wind could knock him over as he stands his ground. the familiarity of gold within his eyes is gone but the guilt behind it is all the same, tainted in burning-coal. the smoke around his mouth and the embers along his tongue match the char. there is no fire. he’s put that out long ago. but what was scorched refuses to dwindle down to ash, remaining orange and red and that pink you swore you could see when there was nothing good on his mind.

nothing good, you thought, jokingly and enticingly. lightly. you see now that you were right, but without the fortune of intimacy.

he is scared, if he would be willing to admit it, and he is protective which he does. it’s why his hands are buried close to his chest, the swirling black-red, clasped together as if they were weapons. they are.

“do you understand?” vox asks. “i don’t deserve your pity.”

his frame is full with rage and power held dormant.

“i don’t deserve your attention, or your patience. or your love.”

a bead of ember rises from between his teeth. it fades to room dust as he grits them together.

when they snap apart an arc of flame accompanies it.

“It’s never been deserved. It’s never been okay. I have never been okay!”

the flames curl out of the air, following where the ember once went, room dust and hot air. without his hair in his face he can’t hide from the firing squad.

he can’t hide when you step forward, either.

“Don’t.” that’s what gets him to quit yelling. it’s replaced by inhaled cinder under his breath. “No, no, don’t. Don’t. Don’t.”

and quiet, you say, “you’ve held me before.”

“Don’t. Don’t. You can’t. No. Don’t.”

“and i’m nowhere near death.”

he backs away. “You don’t know that, you don’t know that, you don’t know, you don’t.”

“we don’t choose the bodies we’re born in. or the biology we function by.”

another step back. he doesn’t trip on anything. it’s the pure magma under his blood that sends him to his knees. “Get back.” a hiccup. “Get back!” his hands form tighter to his body. “Get away from me!”

“i trust you.”

“Don’t! Don’t! No! Away!”

“you aren’t hungry anymore. and i’m not in danger. i love you.”

vox’s back thumps against the corner of the wall. his hands tear apart. a prominent vein glides down the oil-slick arm. they tangle themselves into his hair. pale fingertips along bloodied streaks. white knuckles pulling at black locks.

he screams.

he screams again when you place yourself next to him, up against the wall, and bump your leg to him.

“if you could hurt me…” your eyes lower to where your legs are placed upon his. “then this would count. but i’m still alive.”

you look up to the ceiling. his talons didn’t scratch it but his horns certainly did. “and i’m still alive, and my soul is where it should be, with me.”

you cannot recognize the sound the voice demon emits.

“so i’ll stay with you. and we’ll figure things out.” with river under your hands you rub his arm. “do you remember this? it’s what i always do when you want me to help calm you down.

“that’s what i’ll do. just let it out. and i’ll be right here, and i’ll always be here no matter what.”

it’s a guttural, throaty cry across his register. a frog scratch.

“come on.” his blood twists under your touch. veins alight as live wires. “i have all the time in the world.”

“But I have been nothing but a blight.”

“i love you as you are.”

you place your head over his chest.

the first thing that happens is the draft from his wing wrapping around your face. your vision colors red. branches of uneven membrane along the wing’s flesh. so tight around his chest you don’t see a glimpse of the outside.

the next is how vox wracks himself over the lava within his throat.

your free hand takes over attending to him as much as you can, swaddled close to his chest.

through the wing, you can see how he forces his head away when he spits a flamethrower.

when the unpredictable flames raise to you and the wing-shield, it suffocates against the flesh. you don’t feel a shred of heat.

each fire is a bellow of pain gone unacknowledged for years. you don’t think he realizes his instinct to cover you. it would be a welcome validation if he weren’t lost in his own grief.

you spend the night beside the voice demon, listening to the shred of his screams. when he finds the courage to open his eyes, he shrieks for every moment that passes with your hand upon him, and soul within your confines.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

✧. ┊ masterpost ✧. ┊ kofi

[areyoufuckingcrazy]

“Shadows of Theed”

Boss (RC-1138) x Reader

Theed’s skyline shimmered under the afternoon sun, its golden domes reflecting the light in a display of serene beauty. Yet beneath this tranquil facade, tension simmered. The recent assassination attempts on Queen Jamillia and Senator Padmé Amidala had prompted the Royal Security Forces to request additional protection from the Republic.

You stood at attention in the palace courtyard, your crimson uniform crisp, hand resting on the hilt of your blaster. As a member of the Royal Naboo Guard, your duty was to protect the monarchy and its representatives. Today, that duty extended to welcoming the Republic’s elite clone commando unit: Delta Squad.

The low hum of a Republic gunship grew louder as it descended, kicking up dust and causing your cape to flutter. The ramp lowered, revealing four armored figures stepping out in formation.

Leading them was RC-1138, known as Boss. His orange-striped armor bore the marks of countless battles, and his posture exuded authority.

Behind him, RC-1140, or Fixer, moved with calculated precision. His green-accented armor was immaculate, and his visor scanned the surroundings methodically.

To Fixer’s left was RC-1207, Sev. His armor bore red markings resembling blood splatter, a reflection of his grim sense of humor and reputation as a fierce sniper.

Bringing up the rear was RC-1262, Scorch. His armor was marked with yellow accents, and he carried himself with a relaxed confidence.

As they approached, Boss stepped forward, his helmet concealing his expression.

“Sergeant RC-1138, reporting in,” he stated, his voice modulated through the helmet’s speaker. “Delta Squad is at your service.”

You offered a formal nod. “Welcome to Theed, Sergeant. I’m Lieutenant [Y/N], Royal Naboo Guard. We’ve been briefed on your assignment.”

Boss inclined his head slightly. “Understood. Our primary objective is to ensure the safety of Queen Jamillia and Senator Amidala.”

“Correct,” you affirmed. “We’ll coordinate patrols and share intelligence. Your squad will be integrated into our security protocols.”

Behind Boss, Scorch leaned slightly toward Sev and whispered, “Think they have any good caf here?”

Sev replied dryly, “As long as it doesn’t taste like ration packs, I’ll consider it a luxury.”

Fixer, without looking up from his wrist-mounted datapad, interjected, “Focus, Deltas. We’re here for a mission, not a vacation.”

Boss turned his head slightly. “Maintain discipline. We’re guests here.”

You raised an eyebrow, a hint of amusement tugging at your lips. “Your squad has a unique dynamic.”

Boss’s tone remained neutral. “We operate efficiently.”

⸻

Over the next few days, Delta Squad integrated into the palace’s security framework. Joint patrols were established, and you found yourself frequently paired with Boss. His stoic nature made conversation sparse, but his presence was reassuring.

One evening, during a perimeter check, you decided to break the silence.

“Your squadmates have distinct personalities,” you observed.

Boss glanced at you. “They’re effective.”

“I’ve noticed,” you replied. “Scorch’s humor, Sev’s intensity, Fixer’s precision. And you—you’re the anchor.”

He paused, considering your words. “Leadership requires stability.”

You nodded. “It’s commendable.”

A brief silence settled before he spoke again. “Your team is well-trained.”

“Thank you,” you said. “We take pride in our duty.”

As the patrol continued, a comfortable silence enveloped you both, the foundation of mutual respect beginning to form.

⸻

The days turned into weeks, and the collaboration between your unit and Delta Squad deepened. Shared meals and joint exercises fostered camaraderie. Scorch’s jokes became a familiar background noise, Sev’s rare smirks were victories, and Fixer’s occasional nods signaled approval.

With Boss, the connection grew subtly. Shared glances during briefings, synchronized movements during drills, and the occasional exchange of dry humor.

One night, after a successful operation thwarting an assassination attempt, you found yourselves alone on a balcony overlooking Theed.

“The city’s peaceful tonight,” you remarked.

Boss nodded. “A welcome change.”

You turned to him. “Do you ever think about life beyond the war?”

He was silent for a moment. “Sometimes. But duty comes first.”

You smiled softly. “Always the soldier.”

He looked at you, his gaze intense. “It’s who I am.”

“And yet,” you said, stepping closer, “there’s more to you.”

He didn’t respond verbally, but the way his hand brushed against yours spoke volumes.

The city lights glittered below like the reflection of a thousand quiet thoughts. The silence between you and Boss wasn’t strained—it was gentle, natural. It had become that way over the last few weeks. You stood shoulder to shoulder, close enough to feel the warmth of his armor radiating softly through the Naboo evening chill.

His helmet was still on, the ever-present barrier between his world and yours. But something in his posture shifted, a subtle drop in his shoulders, a small exhale that sounded more like a sigh than static.

Then—quietly—he said, “It’s strange.”

You turned to look at him. “What is?”

“Peace.” A beat. “This planet. The quiet.” He paused, like he was deciding whether to say more. “I’m used to marching into warzones. Places that smell like carbon and blood. Where the air’s thick with ash and tension. But here… it’s almost too quiet. Makes you feel like… something could go wrong any second.”

You studied him for a moment, surprised he was sharing this. “Maybe it’s not that something will go wrong. Maybe it’s just that you’ve never known anything but chaos.”

There was a pause. Then, slowly, his hands came up to his helmet. You heard the hiss of pressure release before he pulled it off and cradled it against his side.

This was the first time you’d seen his face. You had imagined it—many times—but the reality was softer than you’d expected. Strong features, yes, but tired eyes. Eyes that had seen too much, too fast. He looked younger without the helmet, and older all at once.

He didn’t look at you right away. His gaze stayed fixed on the skyline.

“I don’t usually take it off,” he admitted. “Feels… exposed.”

You smiled gently. “You don’t have to explain. But thank you for trusting me.”

His eyes finally met yours then, sharp and searching, but not cold. “You’re different from the officers I’ve worked with before.”

“Good different?” you teased softly.

He didn’t smile, exactly—but something softened around his mouth. “Real different.”

You leaned against the railing beside him, your fingers brushing his. This time, he didn’t move away. He turned his hand slightly until his gloved pinky hooked around yours.

“I don’t know what happens after this assignment,” you said quietly. “But I know I’ll remember this. You.”

He nodded once. “Same.”

The moment stretched—not romantic in the overly dramatic way holodramas would tell it, but intimate in its honesty. The weight of your fingers against each other. The hush of the Naboo breeze. The flickering of torchlight behind you, and the way his gaze lingered on your face like he was memorizing it.

And then, with the kind of quiet confidence that came from someone who rarely acted on impulse, Boss leaned in slightly—slowly, giving you time to stop him if you wanted. His forehead came to rest gently against yours. It was a simple thing. No kiss, no dramatics. Just contact. Shared breath. A moment stolen from the endless march of duty.

“I can’t afford to be soft,” he murmured, voice barely above a whisper. “But you make me want to be.”

You closed your eyes, forehead still pressed to his. “Then let this be the place where you can.”

His hand, calloused and heavy, rose to cup the side of your neck for a second before falling away. Not because he didn’t want more—but because he wasn’t ready yet. And maybe you weren’t either. But that was okay. It was enough.

Tonight, it was enough.

[yuus-sentient-teddy]

Old Note: This came to me the night before Book 7 got updated on the JP server. I'm also waiting for translations, but from what I've been hearing, there's speculation that the squad will be traveling to other dreams and waking up the rest of the main cast.

New Note: Tada *jazz hands* here it is after how many months.

The Hall of Mirrors is in shambles, and the cause for its state is still wrecking havoc.

"Those ear. . . there's no way that's Grim!" Ace says. He and the others didn't enter this dream by falling from the sky. They all just opened their eyes and found themselves lying on the broken ground, wearing their ceremonial robes and lightly covered in dust.

"Hang on, where's Yuu?"

"Over there!" Silver hurries over to a dark shape that almost blends against what remains of a stone column. Anyone would have missed the shape if that person couldn't see the white glowing bird circling over Yuu's head.

They're groaning while slowly sitting up. "Are you okay, Prefect?"

"Yeah. What about you? Are you and everyone else okay?"

"We're fine, just a little scratched up," Ace says as he and the others gather around.

Yuu nods. "Good."

They look at the menacing form of their partner and their eyes immediately fill with despair. "God. I can't believe he turned into that," they say quietly. "And the Mirror. . ."

Gasps erupt as multiple eyes spy it among the rubble.

"It's. . . shattered?!" Deuce says.

"Prefect, are you okay?" Epel asks, remembering their longing for home.

Yuu swallows and smothers whatever emotion is on their face, quickly donning an expression that would suit a calm advisor (it's an expression all the boys know from the Overblot situations). ". . . We'll talk about that later. Right now, we need to get Grim back to normal. I think we should do some recon to get a sense of what he can now do."

"I agree with the suggestion," Rook says. "I volunteer myself to go." He then invites a few others whose skill sets may be helpful, such as Leona and Epel.

"Prefect, are you able to stand?" he asks.

"Yeah. You need me to watch out for you guys?"

"Yes, and perhaps to notice anything from a distance in contrast to us who will be closer to Grim."

"In the meantime, we'll discuss possible strategies and update them once you all come back," Vil says.

Once the recon team leaves, Ace says, "I'm just going to say this right now: why is Yuu dreaming something like this? This doesn't seem like something they want to happen. You guys saw how they acted, right?"

"It also wouldn't make sense if this is a memory," Riddle adds. "It seems like all of us are supposed to be present, but we would surely remember a disaster such as this."

"It's not just that. Something is different about this dream," Silver says. "You both are right in that it's not based on a desire nor a memory. It's something else entirely different, but I can't quite place what it is."

". . . What if it's a vision?" Ace suggests.

"What do you mean?"

"Yuu has been having weird dreams throughout the school year. They said that some of them are about the Great Seven acting villainous and that the rest are quick flashes of a black carriage and a blue beast."

There's a long period of silence as the information settles in.

"Has the Prefect have these visions while awake?" Lilia asks.

"I'm not sure--hang on." Ace's eyes widen. "Sometimes they look dazed or like they're about to faint."

"Like while they were talking to me at my farewell party?"

"Yeah. . . like that."

Another long moment of silence. In the background, someone shouts something while the chimera stomps on what's left of the ground and screeches.

"Okay, so we know the person from another world may be a seer of sorts," Idia says. "Let's get back to figuring out how to turn Grim back into a cat and get Yuu to wake up."

Somehow, despite how quickly he tried to get out of the way and the protective barriers he put up, he got hit with one of Grim's curses. It made it so hard to breathe, and his legs suddenly weren't able to support him. He wracks his brain for counter spells--but is suddenly interrupted by desperate shouts from around him.

He lifts his head as best as he could. His eyes widen.

Yuu was standing before the beast, a hand reaching. He was too far to hear what they were saying, but it was no doubt soothing words to try to get their partner back to his senses. They were even smiling calmly.

But Grim suddenly roars and lunges forward.

"Prefect!"

He shoves himself off the floor and into a run. Others are doing the same around him or are lifting their pens to summon a protective shield. He lifts a hand, but the motion gets slower and slower with each second even though he's sure he's moving quickly. It's not like he's moving through molasses, though.

No. It's more like--

Time slows to a stop. Grim's jaws are just over the Prefect's head. From what he could still see, their eyes are wide and full of shock.

. . . Then he and everyone are suddenly floating in a void, semi- surrounding an unconscious Yuu.

"What. . . the hell is this place?" Ace says. His voice echoed slightly, like he was in a small cave.

"I'm guessing Yuu didn't mention this?" Floyd says rather casually.

"Shh! Listen!" Leona interjects.

Somewhere in the darkness, there's a low voice. It grows louder until it is clear and seems to surround the NRC students; by then, they were able to identify the speaker. "The Headmaster?!"

"Guided by the Mirror of Darkness. . ."

"Guys, look up!" Numerous mirrors that look exactly like the Mirror of Darkness are suspended above them, looking down but reflecting nothing but darkness.

". . . If your heart bids it, take the hand of the one reflected in the mirror."

Yuu's eyes are still closed. A couple seconds pass, then their arm lifts and their hand reaches for something above, to the side. As if summoned by that gesture, a mirror comes down and floats above them. Their eyes slowly open.

Someone realizes he can lower himself to get a better view of the mirror, and the others follow suit.

They're just in time to see a hand coming from the darkness within the mirror. It passes through the glass, the surface momentarily rippling, and its palm is facing up. Without hesitation, Yuu takes the hand.

Light shimmers from the hands then expands, filling the whole void and momentarily blinding everyone. Once it's gone, Yuu and the mirrors are nowhere to be seen.

The Headmaster's voice rings clear:

"As flame reduces even the stars to ash,

as ice seals away even time itself,

as great trees swallow even the sky,

fear not the power of darkness. Now... demonstrate your power."

There are flashbacks to the earlier battle against Grim, except it was like the battle was repeating over and over: different combination of groups going against Grim, each combination losing regardless of the power of the spells. There was a vague sense that they've fought countless times now.

Suddenly, Yuu is back in the void, donning their ceremonial robe and lying on their back with their hands folded over their stomach, like they were sleeping in a coffin. A new voice speaks, and it's not someone any of the boys recognize.

For me, for them, for you. Time is growing short. Whatever you do, don't let go of that hand.

Blink.

They all are standing at the gates to Ramshackle Dorm.

None of them know what to say.

One of the boys is looking at his own hand, thinking back to when the person in the mirror offered their hand. "Hang on. There's a face in the shadow. It looks kind of like. . ."

He thinks he can feel the phantom sensation of someone holding his hand.

[guess-that-ship]

S15 Round 2

Dark and Darker

Dark is a foreigner exiled from his home country, and Darker is a rebellious noble. The two become best friends due to their similar (and synergetic) magics and personalities, but Dark ends up joining magical law enforcement, befriending Darker's twin brother. Darker, on the other hand, is looped into demon summoning and becomes quite good at it. This all boils to a head when Darker summons a supreme devil that kills his entire family, including his twin brother. The two of them, grieving the loss of the third member of their group, split up, with Dark creating a squad to give home to the misfits like them, and Darker going on an espionage mission for over ten years.

When Dark gets kidnapped, Darker finally returns home in a last-ditch attempt to save him from being used in a devil summoning ritual, repeatedly putting his life on the line to save his partner from dying, and almost dies on multiple occasions. Dark and Darker reconcile after Dark prevents him from dying, and the two fall back into each other like they were never seperated to begin with. Darker expresses a desire to live with Dark and his squad and finally make up for being absent all this time.

The Fast and the Bi-Curious

You don't have a single damn clue what your name is, where you are, or what you're doing. Luckily for you, there's a guardian angel in the dust of this run-down city waiting for you.

The second you meet, you get an inkling that you're ride or die, partners to hell and back. The regrets you've had still haunt you, but every time, *he's* there to pull you back into the beating heart of the present. Whether it's in the form of a steadying hand, firm advice, or a quiet presence by your side, you're reminded that you're still altogether ALIVE. And you're not alone. It doesn't end while you're here.

You can return the favour- or not- and he'll respond with a little bit of wisecrack slipping out from under that protective by-the-books shell. There's a lot to learn about everyone around you past the tip of the iceberg, and he's no exception. If you've done well enough, your first instinct might even be right in the end. Maybe this crazy, workshop, just straight-up radical partnership will last a while longer...

[lizzie-is-here]

lonely is a man without love

part vii- choice

“hug me like the night holds the moon” - alexandra vasiliu

summary: fighting egyptian gods honestly isn’t that bad, especially when marc and steven look so good in their suits

wordcount: 2.1k

warnings: language, violence, honestly i think that’s it, not much fluff but i’ll make up for it in the last part i promise

a/n: thank y’all for being so patient with me, this isn’t the last part, there will be one more bc i want the moon boys to meet the avengers 😏 also wondering how oscar isaac feels knowing he’s played some of the hottest characters to exist bc my miguel obsession is concerning 💀 i hope y’all enjoy, love you all sm, have a great day 🫶🫶🫶

taglist: @thefictionalgemini @ravenz-hope @undiscl0sed-d3sir3s @iateall-your-cookies @disregardedplant @sunflowers-4 @yellowumbrelllaaaa @bagsy-not-it @local-mr-frog @thescarletredwitch @jupitersmoon167 @creamecafe @stevenknightmarc @theluciansystem @kingtwhiddleston @spider-biter @mxltifxnd0m @sgt-morgan @no-dont-be-suspicious @onzayhe @namorslit @i-cant-write-for-shit @vainillasmil157 @doublevirgogirl @boofy1998 @seninjakitey @khaleesihavilliard @gaypoetsblog @letmehavemyfictionalmen @bitchotine

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“That’s fucking disgusting,” you murmur to yourself as three bullets fall out of your slowly-healing wounds.

Coming back from the dead was remarkably unremarkable, you think. However, the sensation of ammunition leaving your body on its own was rather unpleasant.

Heaving strained sighs, you wring out your hair as you make sure the room is empty.

“Ok, Taweret, what now?” you ask.

You don’t expect your body to seize up, and for her voice to leave your throat as you uncontrollably spew words.

“There will be an opening in a nearby wall to where Khonshu’s ushabti is at the Chamber of the Gods. Do you see it?”

You gasp, coughing from the intrusion. A few yards away, the bricks open, revealing a shady tunnel with glowing hieroglyphs. You still don’t fuck with small, dark, magic tunnels. But, you suppose you don’t have much of an option.

“Alright. I’m going in.”

The tunnel opens up to a massive chamber, and you can see Harrow and his team at the entrance, confronting what seem to be more avatars. You sneak past in perfect silence, weaving through tunnels on an instinct you suspect is controlled by Taweret.

Finally, you reach a wall of lamps. In front of each one is a tiny statue. Scanning each one, your eyes land on one that seems newer than the others.

“Surprise,” you singsong. “I’d recognize that ugly face anywhere. Now what?”

The same uncomfortable sensation takes over your voice.

“Smash it on the ground, it’ll free him.”

You raise the ushabti above your head before hurling it with some personal spite. It shatters on the floor, and the fog that emanates from it rises into a form.

“I do not sense Marc Spector in this world,” he announces. “He died fighting, no doubt.”

You raise a brow. “Yeah, no shit. Doing your dirty work.”

“It’s far from over. If Marc is truly gone, I am in need of an Avatar. Would you protect the travelers of the night-“

You wave your hands, cutting him off. “Would you shut the fuck up? I’m already Taweret’s temporary Avatar. Go resurrect Marc before I get Wanda to curse you.”

The god disappears in a cloud of dust, and you hear his voice echo from the main chamber. You listen in silence before a loud beeping interrupts.

When you look down at your gauntlet, the small screen displays words that make you audibly groan.

“Shit, shit shit shit,” you hiss, hurrying to the main chamber while also desperately trying to hang up the call. “Not the time, Nat!”

As you turn a corner, you come face to face with a squad of Harrow’s followers, and in your panic, you press the wrong button.

“Hey (Y/N)!” a chorus of voices say. Team dinner, shit again.

“Sorry guys, kinda busy right now!” you shout back, shooting down three people as you whip out a baton.

Wanda’s voice calls out through the fight.

“I felt your heart stop, (Y/N), what’s going on?”

Grunting, you throw a man into the wall before hopping on a woman’s shoulders to fling her backward.

Sighing, you tap the gauntlet, projecting the call so you can see their worried faces gathered around the phone.

“No biggie, I died for a little bit, but I’m all good.”

At the instant outburst, you wince. Probably should’ve chosen different words.

“Маленький паучок, ты такой мертвый, когда вернешься домой [Little spider, you’re so dead when you get home]!”

You roll your eyes, brushing off the term of endearment. With the room cleared, you run out of the Chamber of the Gods, right out the front of the Great Pyramid. Left and right, Harrow’s followers are judging the souls of civilians. Great. More headaches for you.

“Shit, kid. You need me and Buck to come over there?”

“He’s right, I’ll kill whoever did it.”

Firing blasts of energy from the gauntlets, you start taking down as many fanatics as you can. You’d rather not shoot them, but it would be easier, you have to admit.

“Did you at least die in a cool way?”

“Yelena, not the time.”

“C’mon, Cap. Let her have her fun.”

“Don’t start with me, Tony.”

“Guys!” you yell over the arguing. “I’m fine. We might have a new recruit, too. If he gets revived.”

Yelena gapes at the phone.

“You died together? Wow, pretty serious.” She wiggles her eyebrows as you strike down a man trying to grab at you. “Have you two kissed yet?”

You blush. “…Yes.”

The loud reactions have you cringing, but the blonde assassin grins.

“Awww… That’s disgusting. But I’m happy for you!” She shoves the phone to a very worried Natasha.

The redhead sighs as the team goes back to lighthearted bickering.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” she asks.

You duck behind a corner, catching your breath. “Yeah, yeah Nat. I promise. I’ll be home soon, okay?”

She nods, and with one last goodbye, ends the call.

You slump against the wall you’re hidden behind, groaning and mumbling curses. When you peek out, you see a giant crocodile goddess swallowing souls.

“Oh, wonderful,” you sigh. “How the fuck am I supposed to fight that?”

“I have an idea!” Your voice says, once again not your own. “Plus, it comes with a rather fashionable outfit.”

Coughing as Taweret invades your senses, you shake your head. “Sorry, I don’t do those weird superhero costumes.”

“Please? It has wings- Ooh, and swords!”

“Ok, how about a compromise,” you suggest. “Just add the wings and swords to my suit?”

Apparently, the goddess is happy with that, because large metal wings form down your back, glinting silver in the candlelight. You can feel the handles of swords under them. When you wave an arm, the corresponding wing follows your movements.

“Oh…” you chuckle. “Sam’s gonna be SO jealous.”

Your moment of pure glee gets interrupted when a small white blur flies by, carrying a screaming man along.

“Ah. Glad to see you back, idiots,” you whisper to yourself, preparing to run over to where they fell. Instead, the wings boost you up onto the nearest building.

Taking a moment to balance yourself, you quickly adapt to the feeling of gliding on the metal wings and swoop in in time to kick Harrow’s ugly face before he strikes Marc.

Marc takes you in. The wings, the smirk on your face, the fact that you’re okay. He can’t help but be amazed.

When Harrow tries to strike again, you cross your arms, repelling the blast with the wings.

“Marc, are you-”

You get cut off by a tight hug and a kiss planted on your forehead.

“You’re alright,” he whispers, almost like he doesn't believe it. His hands hold you like you’ll disappear. He barely pauses before pulling you into a kiss, tension leaving his body as he sighs against your lips.

You smile. “I’m alright, it’s okay.”

In a flash, his suit changes, along with his voice.

“Wow, you look amazing. Where’d you get the wings?” Steven asks.

“Hi, Steven,” you chuckle as you turn. Harrow is finally standing up from where you knocked him on his ass, and dozens of his followers have gathered.

Steven perks up. “Hey, I’m really jazzed about showing you these new skillsets we have.”

It’s impossible to not grin at his antics. “Alright, let’s see it.”

You both break into a dead sprint, with you using the wings to boost you. The new swords fit perfectly in your hands, becoming deadly as you combine them with your baton training, twirling and twisting the blades as you slash through men.

When you turn around to check on Steven, you see Marc instead.

“It’s good to know you two are getting along now,” you chirp before charging forward, cutting down whoever you need to to get to the man at the center of it all.

You strike Harrow’s staff with both swords, tag-teaming him with Marc. You make a deadly combination. That is, until he slams the staff on the ground and sends you flying,

He holds you down, hand raised above you, before Steven tackles him away, leaving you to catch your breath.

The fight only escalates from there. Marc and Steven switch seamlessly, leaning into each others’ strengths. They fight Harrow to a standstill, holding him back from wrecking the world. Usual superhero stakes.

You, however, are preoccupied. Namely with ripping the doors off of vans and helping civilians.

A purple glow blooms behind you, and you can spot Marc holding back Harrow’s magic as you rush pedestrians away from the area.

Blocking bullets, you dive back into the fight as soon as you clear the area. But you don’t get far.

A stray blast of magic throws you to the ground. Hard. You groan as the tingling, nauseating feeling rushes over you. Your legs are too shaky to get up.

When you fight to raise your head, you see Marc. He took the brunt of the strike, evidenced by the crater he lays in. Harrow is stalking closer, raising his staff above him. When he brings it down, you can see the power leaving Marc’s body.

And you can’t have the first boyfriend (kind of? maybe?) you’ve ever had die before he even takes you out on a date.

The brick you hurl at Harrow hits his knee with careful precision, and he stumbles. With a vicious kick to his ribs, you knock him far enough away to help Marc up.

But it’s not Marc.

His suit may be the same, but the eyes are different. More tired. His posture is guarded, and the way he holds the crescent dagger is more offensive than defensive.

He says nothing as you head into the fray. Whoever he is, it’s the same alter that was on the roof in Cairo, and he’s ruthless.

Steven fights with blunt weapons. Marc fights with knives, but more on the defensive. Whoever this is… He fights like you.

You fight in tandem, whittling down Harrow’s strength until eventually, you break his staff over your knee and whoever’s controlling the body nearly kills him with the force he uses to take him down.

His eyes roll back, and Marc returns.

The fear in his eyes is enough to know that he has no clue what happened. He stands with your help, shakily surveying the area.

“That wasn’t you, was it, Steven?”

The other man fronts effortlessly, gripping your arm a bit tighter.

“Not a chance, mate,” he gasps.

“Whoever it was,” you say. “He’s been hiding all this time. And he’s definitely more violent than either of you.”

Far away, Ammit begins dragging an unconscious Khonshu away. You curse under your breath, watching the two giant gods disappear from your sight.

You turn to Marc. “Get Harrow. I know how we can stop Ammit.”

Dragging an unconscious man is easy work for him, and Marc tosses him onto an altar inside the Chamber of the Gods with little regard to further injuring him.

The chamber may be destroyed, but the magic still lingers. It’s residual energy, and takes a while to dissipate, you’ve learned. You’ve stumbled into Wanda’s red swirls and had horrible flashbacks for hours too many times to not learn your lesson.

“If you can imprison a god in a statue, why not a person? The power in this room should help us bind Ammit to Harrow’s body.” You glance up to the ceiling. “Taweret? Got a spell for us?”

Instead of losing control of your voice, you can hear her in your mind, merely guiding your actions.

You nod after a few seconds. “Ok. She says to take my hand, and we can start the spell.”

The strange sensation is back, and this time you’re chanting in Egyptian, hardly understanding the words as a lavender glow wraps around the room.

It circles the statues of the gods. For how destroyed the room is, they’re still intact. It completes the loop, leaving Marc’s hand and ending in yours.

A lavender haze streams from the ceiling, funneling into Harrow’s mouth as his eyes snap open.

“You can never contain me,” he says, voice overlapping with Ammit’s. “I’ll never stop.”

Khonshu appears next to you. You’ve grown used to it now, barely reacting.

“Finish it,” he growls. “And leave neither of them alive.

As Marc stands above Harrow, knife at the ready, your stomach twists.

“While he lives, so too does she.”

“I have to finish this,” Marc whispers to himself. “If not, I’ll never be free.”

You furrow your brow. “Marc. You are free. This is your choice.”

Khonshu cuts in. “The choice is vengeance. We cannot take the chance that Ammit finds a way out. She will kill again.”

“Now you sound just like her,” Marc says.

He drops the man on the altar, and your heart swells.

“If you want them dead, do it yourself.” You can’t control the smirk on your face as he stares the god dead in the eye.

Right before he speaks again, he glances at you for reassurance. You nod.

“Now, release us.”

[kandadze]

Ep 32 loose thoughts

Oh hell that was a *bad* idea, WX! And why is she by herself? Was PSJ not in the dungeon after all?

Ahhh okay she still *is* in the dungeon, oh ffs

She at least has her brother when things get *real* bad... I spoke too soon. Hello there, another illusion! Get him, PSJ, punch that goddamn smirk off of his face!

I see this episode will be a montage of at least three fight sequences going on at the same time. Oof, I felt ZYZ taking that fireball in the back to protect ZYC right in my gut, how many times will they be each other's shield before one of them shatters?

Speaking of which. Can someone shatter this asshole already???

Come on, ZYC, you know there's no way WX and PSJ could be there for real! All of this is just another illusion feeding off your biggest fear!

....................

Right, it's an illusion within an illusion. I can't with this drama.

How many times did ZYZ let himself bleed on ZYC's blade at this point? I should go back and count. Look at me, I know that no matter how the end might break me, I *will* go back and rewatch the whole thing...

Fuckkkkk the way I cheered when the swirl of leaves appeared! (Also, ZYZ using his hand to protect ZYC's face... I repeat, how many times will they be each other's shield??? 😭)

Oh LL, joining the self-sacrificial idiots squad! And ZYZ's concern for him coming out of his cultivation too early. LL's smile in response! Fuck the things that could've been 😭

Ngl it's kinda funny how they're having those prolonged and emotional conversations while the villain just stands there, totally hearing every word even though he's way too far for it to be possible (unless he added some hearing related mcguffin to his demonic upgrade), and not really doing anything of substance. Not sure if it's intentional to show how much he believes in his own advantage, or is this a thing in xianxias in general, either way, thanks for the (choked, but still) laugh, now let's see if Qing Geng can help detoxify the poison in ZYC. (Seriously, what's with cdramas and poisons?)

Ah, fuck, I knew that they showed us the red glowing eyes on Fei for a reason. Seriously, I hope WZY *burns*.

OMG the sound of Bai Jiu's bell woke ZYC up enough for him to reach for the antidote!!! Team effort once more! I love how they show us again and again that our gang's strength comes from their love for one another! 😭😭😭 (And fuckkkk, Qing Geng used her inner core for the antidote! The scene in the MV, of these three watching golden dust dissipate in front of their eyes, was of her death... oh man, I know I said I'd prefer everyone to die if it meant no one was left behind to suffer, but it's as if they heard me and went, let's start with the secondary characters who gutted you the most the first time around, shall we? 😭)

Meanwhile, the villain is still alive and well, and LL's taking the brunt of his fire attacks, while being, y'know, a *tree* demon. *Both* ZYZ and ZYC reaching out to steady him!!! What a shot! No matter what happens next, this was *so* satisfying to see. (Also, can I just say how I love LL's hairdo here, and how all the adornments are made of things you can get or make out of various tree parts! A+)

Seriously, the piece of garbage does *not* deserve such a beautiful "true form". Please die already, you've wasted enough of everyone's time. Hopefully knowing where his inner core is will help in achieving just that.

The way I cheered when PSJ finally landed a killing blow on the lackey. And then I promptly choked at the candy bit (flashed way back to The Untamed lol). How dare they make me feel emotional like thissss!

And that's the end of the ep? I feel like the girls got seriously sidelined in this one, but at least we got some badass sequences (PSJ) and some aesthetic slamming against the pillars (sorry, WX). I'm also  afraid that sending Bai Jiu away, even though done for his immediate safety, is gonna backfire horribly... only one way to find out! (Ngl, I'm really scared for what's still to come.)

On to ep 33! (Will I get any sleep tonight? Probably not. I might post the rest of the commentary only tomorrow though, I'm getting really drained.)

[selmasemlan]

Finding Those That Can´t Protect Themselves

Summary: Where Luna protects others

Pairing: Zoro Roronoa x Luna (OFC)

Author note: This Luna is one of my favourite ones, truly

Warning: mention of violence

Word count: 1212

Series Masterlist

Finding Those That Can´t Protect Themselves

The city of Alubarna was in turmoil, the sounds of clashing weapons and cries of battle filling the air. Dust and sand swirled in the wind, obscuring the chaotic scene as the rebels and the royal army clashed in the streets. The Straw Hats, scattered throughout the city, fought valiantly to turn the tide of the battle in favor of the people of Alabasta.

Luna, her heart pounding with anxiety, stood at the edge of the battlefield. The harsh desert sun beat down on her, but she kept her focus on the task at hand. She wasn’t a front-line fighter like Zoro or Luffy, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t help. There were people everywhere—civilians caught in the crossfire, rebels injured and overwhelmed, their cries of pain and fear pulling at her heart.

With a deep breath, she moved into action, her hands raised as she summoned her powers. Vines sprouted from the dry ground, spreading out in a delicate network of green. They curled around fallen debris, creating makeshift shelters for those too weak or injured to move. She guided the plants gently, forming soft cradles to lift wounded rebels out of harm’s way and carry them to safer areas.

“Hang on,” she whispered to a young woman cradling a child, fear etched into her face. The vines wrapped around them, forming a protective cocoon and gently lifting them away from the chaos. “You’ll be safe soon.”

Nearby, a group of rebels were struggling against a squad of Baroque Works agents, the odds clearly not in their favor. Luna’s heart clenched as she watched one of the rebels fall, his leg caught under a heavy stone. Without thinking, she sent a wave of plants surging forward, the vines wrapping around the agents and pulling them back, away from the rebels.

The sudden appearance of the plants took the agents by surprise. They struggled, but the vines held firm, binding them in place, just as she had done before. Luna stepped forward, her voice trembling but firm. “Please, stop fighting. You don’t have to hurt anyone else.”

One of the agents sneered, his voice dripping with disdain. “What do you think you’re doing, little girl? You think you can stop us with some flowers?”

Luna flinched, but she held her ground, her eyes shining with determination. “I’ll do whatever I have to, to protect these people. I don’t want to hurt you, but I won’t let you hurt them.”

The agent’s mocking laughter echoed through the street, but Luna ignored it, focusing instead on the injured rebels. She waved her hand, and the vines shifted, lifting the fallen rebel gently out from under the stone and carrying him to safety. His comrades looked on in astonishment and relief, their expressions softening as they realized what she was doing.

“Thank you,” one of them murmured, his voice rough with gratitude. “Thank you for saving us.”

Luna nodded, her cheeks flushing with a mixture of relief and embarrassment. “I’m just glad I could help.”

She continued to move through the battlefield, her powers flowing around her like a living, breathing extension of herself. Wherever she went, she used the plants to create barriers, shielding civilians from stray attacks, or forming bridges over the rough terrain to help the rebels navigate the city more easily. Her presence, calm and focused, became a beacon of hope amidst the chaos.

As the battle raged on, the sky above Alubarna darkened, ominous clouds swirling as if reflecting the tension below. Luffy, determined and unyielding, was making his way to the royal palace to confront Crocodile directly. Luna knew she couldn’t match Luffy’s raw power or his fighting spirit, but she could still do something to help.

She moved towards the outskirts of the city, where clusters of civilians huddled in fear, the battle closing in around them. The chaos was overwhelming, the air thick with dust and the cries of panic. Luna’s heart ached at the sight of children clinging to their parents, tears streaming down their faces, their small bodies trembling with fear.

Taking a deep breath, she raised her hands, her eyes glowing softly as she called upon her powers once more. The plants responded eagerly, shooting up from the dry earth and forming a protective dome around the gathered civilians. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to shield them from the worst of the battle.

“It’s okay,” she murmured, her voice gentle and soothing. “You’re safe now. Just stay inside, and everything will be alright.”

A little girl, her face streaked with dirt and tears, looked up at Luna with wide, frightened eyes. “Are you really gonna protect us?”

Luna knelt down, smiling softly. “I promise, I’ll keep you safe. Just stay close to your family, okay?”

The girl nodded, her tiny hand clutching at Luna’s sleeve before retreating back into the arms of her mother. Luna’s heart swelled with determination. She had to keep them safe, no matter what.

Suddenly, a massive explosion rocked the city, the shockwave sending a plume of dust and debris into the air. Luna stumbled, her breath catching in her throat as she saw the palace in the distance, its walls crumbling under the force of Crocodile’s power.

Luffy was up there, facing Crocodile alone. Luna’s hands clenched into fists. She wanted to help, to be there by his side, but she knew she had a different role to play. Luffy was fighting to defeat Crocodile; she needed to protect the people here, to keep them safe from the destruction that threatened to consume them all.

The ground beneath her feet trembled as another explosion echoed through the city. The civilians huddled together, their fear palpable. Luna closed her eyes, drawing in a deep breath. She needed to stay calm, to be their strength.

She felt a presence beside her and turned to see Zoro, his swords drawn, his eyes sharp and focused. “How are you holding up?”

“I’m okay,” she replied, her voice steady despite the turmoil around them. “Just trying to keep everyone safe.”

Zoro nodded, his gaze scanning the surroundings. “You’re doing great. Just keep doing what you’re doing. We’ll handle the rest.”

Luna smiled, feeling a surge of reassurance at his words. “Thank you, Zoro.”

With renewed determination, she turned back to the civilians, her hands moving gracefully as she strengthened the barriers around them, the plants growing thicker and more resilient. She couldn’t fight Crocodile head-on, but she could do this. She could protect these people, keep them safe from the chaos that threatened to tear their home apart.

As the battle continued to rage, Luna remained steadfast, her powers flowing around her like a protective shield. She was a calming force amidst the storm, her presence a beacon of hope and safety for those who had lost everything.

And though she couldn’t see him, she knew Luffy was out there, fighting with everything he had to save Alabasta. She could feel it, the unwavering strength and courage that defined him, and it gave her the strength to keep going, to hold on, no matter what.

Because they were the Straw Hat crew. And together, they would protect this land, and its people, no matter the cost.

[thatcheeseycandle]

PROTECT OLIVIA GANG

Maybe the baby will have gold dust powers it seemed to react to Scot and its not wven born yet

YEAHHH WE'RE FORMING A SQUAD OF ANONS NOW HEHAHAHHD (Im dubbing the Olivia protectors the Protect-nons)

Though you may be correct on that ngl, but I mean Gold Dust technically doesn't give full abilities when so little of it is given (from my understanding since it kinda took awhile for Scotsman to activate and control his abilities)

But hey maybe since it was already exposed to Gold Dust at such an early stage of life maybe they'll absorb it in a way where it does give the baby abilities?

[13thpythagoras]

So apparently Brian Cocks

ahem Brian Cox

was saying usually large gas giants fall inward and end up closest to the star, very odd of our solar system to not have that; and that would have erased Earth and basically meant Jupiter would exist where the orbits of the inner planets are and the inner planets would be simply dust within a slightly larger Jupiter- in most solar systems this is what happens, according to Cox

but it's the pull of Saturn, the unlikely other gas giant, that pulls Jupiter back into the outer solar system early on- saving Earth's chance for later existence as a warm rocky planet.

Jupiter also deserves credit for acting as a giant gravity shield against asteroids and other stuff that might be hazardous, often times Jupiter just eats it like candy so the dangerous flying "candy" won't hit us and vaporize our continents...so big thanks Jupiter for like, vacuuming up that wild ass drunk comet in 1994

Is this a narrative that parallels the Babylonian creation myth of Enki and Enlil?

The two Gods who created our world, as best friends?...keeping each other in check so they don't go too crazy?

Sounds so familiar to how, while Jupiter protects our world, Saturn reined in Jupiter and stopped Jupiter from destroying us himself too.

Highly plausible that ETs were advanced and spacefaring before our solarsystem was born; we are in a region of space that has factors of a thousand more gold than surrounding regions of our galaxy. There's no natural way to explain this. It's exceedingly, basically airtight likelihood we are living in a solar system that *was* terraformed from the beginning to basically mine gold. That's why we're here, gold is apparently a necessary ingredient in space/time travel equipment, so aside from being pretty, gold is also just very useful, moreso than other elements. Not implausible to consider "sci fi" hypotheses about ET societies tweaking and tinkering with proto-stellar discs, making it more likely rocky inner warm planets will form; thus making it cheaper and easier to later mine gold; that kind of thing actually makes total sense to me.

Sci fi concepts to explore include space elevators, asteroid mining, the perils, the piracy (human and/or ET), the legal challenges after arrival back home with golden asteroids.

Wild to consider taking a $50 trillion gold brick 99% of the way back to earth's orbit only to get held up and mugged at laserpoint by a squad of UFOs

[casspurrjoybell-25]

The Healer of Shakkara - Book One

*Warning Adult Content*

Chapter 3 - Training - Part 1

Galen ducked as a wooden staff, thick enough to crack a skull, swished past his head.

He held a similar weapon and raised it just in time to block another blow.

The impact sent a jarring pain through his hands.

His opponent moved for a third strike and Galen prepared to block it but this time the enemy wasn't aiming for his head.

He blocked nothing.

Meanwhile, the staff whistled past his head, swung in a wide arc, hit the backs of his knees and swept his legs out from under him.

His back hit the ground, knocking the air from his lungs.

He lay stunned, staring up at the vault of sky while the world spun and raucous laughter ricocheted around the semi-circular outcrop of stone that formed the makeshift training arena.

Fortunately, only his two closest friends were there to witness his disgrace.

Behn, who sat on the flattened grass nearby, helpless with laughter and Triss, who'd been beating the crap out of him for an hour already.

Her freckled face blocked his view of the sky and she frowned down at him.

"Are you okay?"

He coughed and sat up, removed the leather cap protecting his head and brushed bits of grass from his hair.

"Peachy."

Triss reached down and grasped his hand, pulling him to his feet.

"You can't just defend, Gale. You have to attack, too or else your opponent just wears you down. No matter how skilled you are, eventually you get hit."

Galen scowled and dusted himself off.

Like a cadet in the Junior Scouts, he wore a thick leather tunic, protective arm and shin guards and a reinforced leather cap, fitted with a wire face-shield.

Triss wore none of these things and fought in a comfortable cotton shirt and breeches and soft suede shoes.

There was almost no chance he'd hit her, anyway but her absolute confidence in this was a little insulting.

Not that it wasn't warranted.

"I asked you to show me how to defend myself, not to kill me," he complained, glaring at her and rubbing the back of his head.

Triss rolled her eyes.

"Nobody likes a drama queen, Gale. You wouldn't last one day in my squad."

"I know that," he grumbled, shooting a glare at Behn.

"Hence the lessons."

Triss leaned on her staff, the muscles in her bare forearms putting Galen's to shame.

She was tall and broad-shouldered, with long red hair she kept in a thick, plated braid.

With a small, upturned nose, gap-toothed grin and sparkling blue eyes, her appearance skewed towards cute more than fierce but Galen pitied anyone who would dare to tell her that.

"You still haven't told me why," she said.

"I've been begging you to train with me for years and now you come to me with the idea? What changed?"

Galen shrugged and lifted a hand to touch his pendant, a habitual gesture of reassurance and found it not there.

He trusted Triss more than anyone... Behn too but Behn couldn't keep a secret any longer than he could resist eating a hot honey cake.

Which wasn't long.

Behn and Triss had each grown up a few houses away from Galen and the three of them had been friends as long as he remembered.

Triss was a few years older and Behn was the same age as Galen and while Triss's love was fighting, Behn's was food.

His father was a baker and a brewer and Behn had inherited a passion for both.

He was plump, quick-witted and good-natured... even if he did laugh at Galen's pitiful attempts to ward off Triss's staff.

Triss, on the other hand, was a warrior born and bred.

She adored physical challenges and contests of strength and excelled at a variety of weapons and combat styles.

She'd joined the Junior Guard on her fourteenth birthday... the second she was old enough to qualify.

At seventeen, she'd graduated with the highest honors and the Watchers... the most elite branch of the Guard... had snapped her up almost as soon as she walked off the stage in the grand amphitheater.

Now at twenty, she was already a second lieutenant, with a squad of eight under her command.

Galen couldn't ask for a better or more enthusiastic teacher but she also didn't pull her punches and treated him the same as she would any cadet his age... which is to say, without mercy.

When he'd asked for lessons in defense, she'd jumped at the chance... literally and as soon as she had a couple days' leave from duty, she'd taken him out here to get started.

Behn had tagged along for the show.

Their 'arena' was a secluded spot just outside of town, along the north side of the wall.

An outcrop of rocks sheltered it from the constant winds blowing in off the plain and the tall grasses made a good cushion when pressed flat.

The three of them had cleared all the stones from a small area and flattened the grass in a circle.

Then Triss had launched into Galen's first lessons with the staff, while Behn looked on.

He'd had to remind himself several times already why he was here... forcing himself to recall the fear he'd felt with the stranger's knife against his skin and the shame of being unable to prevent someone from taking something precious to him.

It wasn't hard... from his iron-and-silver eyes to the infuriatingly self-assured curl of his lips, the stranger's face was burned in his mind.

"Gale?" Triss prompted, when he failed to answer in a timely fashion.

"Darek's not bothering you again, is he? 'Cause I swear to Thrynis, I'll break both his arms this time, if he is."

Galen blinked and dropped his hand from his throat, brought back to the present.

"What? Oh, no... nothing like that. I just... I want to be ready... is all."

Maybe he'd tell Triss later... if he could get her alone.

She narrowed her eyes at him, hawk-winged brows pinching close and then punched his shoulder just hard enough to hurt.

"Alright. Fine. That's enough punishment for today. I'm guessing this isn't Harrald's idea and if you don't want him to find out about it, you'll need to be able to walk tomorrow. Let's go and get some lunch."

Behn showed enthusiasm for this idea and helped Galen struggle out of his protective gear, which Triss had borrowed from the surplus Junior Guard supply.

Nothing made for typical Thrynian adults fit Galen, anyway.

As Behn fumbled with the straps, Galen felt a sharp jolt, followed by a sensation of shaking.

Already tired and a little annoyed, he pushed himself away from his friend.

"Gods, Behn. Don't be so rough."

He turned to find Behn with his hands raised, pale blue eyes wide and tufty blond hair in disarray.

"Wasn't me," he said, looking at the ground.

"It was the... the..."

"It's a tremor," Triss said, pointing to the outcrop of rock.

Galen followed her gaze and saw she was right.

The rocks were faintly but perceptibly, shaking.

The three of them stared for a moment, almost spellbound and then it stopped.

"What the..." Behn wiped a hand over his shiny forehead, his pale skin reddened with excitement and the beginnings of fear.

Triss shrugged and picked up the rest of the gear.

"It's nothing. They're getting more common. Though that's the first I've felt so close to Dern. I'm sure the priests will have something to say about," she added and spat.

She wasn't wrong.

When they returned to town, they found it in a stir of commotion, as if an ants' nest had been disturbed.

It seemed the 'tremor' had done very little damage, other than shaking loose objects off of shelves but the novelty had people in a borderline frenzy of excitement and fright.

Thrynians liked threats they could see and understand... threats that could be killed or conquered.

The earth itself shaking was another matter.

[alitheakorogane]

Freedom's Protection: Please Forgive Me

Summary: Venti tries to visit you while you're still recovering from your injuries and tries to apologize. At the same time, you found out the truth about the Divine Creator from Venti.

This is the sixth part of Mondstadt's storyline for the Reader Protection Squad SAGAU series.

Warning: There are mentions of blood but it's nothing major. Also, there are instances of grammatical errors and incorrect lore because this was written on a whim.

Note: I apologize for the delay, it's been a month or two since I updated this! This draft was been gathering dust for months and decided to add some ideas little by little. To those who are actually waiting for Archon Venti, just be patient, this was cut into parts so this wouldn't be too long for a chapter, I can assure you he will appear in his Archon form in the next chapter (as of this date). I still had to write them, review the next chapter for errors and place some additional ideas.

Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6 (current), 7

You woke up with the most pounding headache you had ever felt in your entire life.

You had no clue what happened, as you were still adjusting to the situation you're currently in. With difficulty, you slowly sat up and looked around the place, ignoring the aches and pains you felt, trying not to shake your throbbing head. By the looks of it and the fact that you can smell the lingering scent of disinfectant, it seems that you were placed in some sort of clinic.

You reached your forehead to calm yourself but were surprised to feel some kind of fabric on your head, possibly bandages wrapped on your head.

You were confused as to why you were lying down on a bed in an unfamiliar room when you were supposed on your room. After all, since the pandemic has begun, you're on online modality and you are supposed to be at home right now, playing Genshin or doing something worthwhile to kill some time. You wondered what place you are currently in and why you woke up with a killer headache.

Suddenly the door opened wide, making you nearly jump up off your bed in surprise. A young woman then entered the room, holding a cart full of medical supplies and medicine. By the looks of it, she looks like a nun... a fancy nun who looks like a nurse. You couldn't help but notice how she looks so familiar to you but you couldn't pinpoint what.

As she closed the door behind her, the young woman saw you try to sit up so she rushed to you and abandoned her cart beside her so she could help you get up.

"Thank Barbatos, you are finally awake..." the young nun spoke up as she grabbed a glass of water from the pitcher she had carried. You gratefully received the glass and drank the liquid, feeling the cold water rushing on your parched throat. You were still groggy from being recently awake alongside the throbbing feeling on your head, so your mind was still as blank as a clean slate of paper.

As you focused your sight on the woman in front of you, a plethora of memories regarding your recent escapades in Teyvat suddenly rushed into your mind, causing you to wince over the throbbing pain in your head. The woman, the lovely Deaconess Barbara, noticed your pained expression so she tried to heal you with her Hydro Vision, but it wasn't as effective as you expected it to be. But at least the pain was slightly reduced due to her efforts.

So your unfortunate trau... adventure throughout Tevyat was not a dream after all. It was real as it had been.

"How long have I been asleep?" You groggily asked the young nun as she was preparing to give you some herbal medicine that you assumed the nuns of the Church of Favonius had made them. Of course, they are not as modern as in your time, and had to rely on healing and elemental magic rather than science and technology to cure people in this world.

You then saw her sprinkle some herbs on the glass of purple juice and waved her glowing hand, signaling that she used her Hydro Vision on the drink.

As she had finished preparing the drink, she then sweetly smiled at you as she offered the glass in front of you, "I hope you like it, it's actually Wolfhook juice mixed with some healthy herbs to help you recover. I even made sure that you can't even taste the bitterness of the herbs I freshly plucked a while ago."

You received the drink and looked at it with a hesitant look and a grimace. The young Deaconess had noticed your strange expression so she cutely giggled, "Don't worry, it has no poison on it, I could assure you. After all, I'm a healer by trade."

Then she crossed her arms with her right hand raised in the air as she waved her finger for emphasis, "And to answer your first question, you have been asleep for two weeks. We are even wondering why you slept that long without food or water."

You were flabbergasted as your eyes looked at the nun as if she had grown a second head, and you should have seen your jaw drop if you were in a cartoon, "WHAT?!"

You still can't believe what you have heard, until you remembered how time flies on Teyvat compared to your world and you suspected that even though you were isekai-ed to the fictional world of Teyvat (which is apparently real in some other universe), you were still bound by your world's time.

You found this out when you first came to this world, when you noticed how you can spend days without food or never slept for weeks. After all, according to the game, 24 hours in Teyvat is 24 minutes in yours.

Barbara nodded as her face turned into a serious look, "But of course, I wouldn't be surprised if you do that, but we're still worried. Based on the ancient book our family had treasured for centuries, which was given and written by Lord Barbatos, the Divine Eminence has been gone, probably asleep, for centuries. And you're actually the Cre-"

Suddenly there was a knock on the door, earning a slightly annoyed look from the Deaconess and a curious look on your face, "I'll be right back."

She went to the door and opened it, revealing a tired-looking bard clad in green and gold accents, his cape flowing through a non-existent wind and you were not surprised that he was currently in his mortal bard form. After all, he has an identity to hide.

He seems to be holding a bouquet of fresh Cecilias and a bottle of apple juice in his hands, a well-thought gift that you assumed he possibly stole from Master Diluc's winery basement.

"Ven-Lord Barbatos!" The young Deaconess exclaimed as she bowed gracefully toward the new visitor. You did the flabbergasted look on your face once again, and by the looks of it, you did it a thousand times already ever since you woke up.

The Archon in question, Venti, entered the room, his beautiful face was struck with guilt and self-loathing as he walked towards you and the young nun, who paved way for the Anemo Archon to come inside the room you were in.

"You can call me Venti and you don't need to bow. I am just a regular bard at the moment," he replied to Barbara with a crinkled smile on his young-looking face, as Barbara blushed in embarrassment over her mistake, but you could see the guilt and child-like wonder in her eyes. You can probably guess that she was still thinking about her embarrassing moments with Venti during the Holy Lyre incident.

He then set the apple juice on the tabletop beside your bed, but he looked around for something to put the flowers in. Barbara could notice the bard fidgeting nervously so she offered her help to place the flowers in a vase, her arms now free from medical supplies she had carried a while ago.

Venti thanked the young nun gratefully while giving the flowers and the apple juice to the young woman, who sensed that you needed some time with Venti. She excused herself to grab some nice containers for these beautiful flowers, leaving you and the guilty Archon in the room.

As Barbara was gone, the young Archon was still standing near the door and fidgeting nervously, as his eyes were staring at the ground and his lips quivered as if he was about to cry. You just sat on your bed with your forehead covered in bandages, your eyes looking at him with a sympathetic gaze.

"Just come here beside me, I won't even bite," you teased him, as you patted your right leg in emphasis, signaling him to sit on the chair beside you. The bard hesitated to follow suit, but you made a puppy eye stare at him, complete with a pout, and he then gave up when he saw you still maintaining the look for minutes. He quietly sat on the chair, but he was still bowing his head down, his eyes were still covered under his bangs.

"I'm sorry for hurting you, (Y/N)," the green-clad bard suddenly apologized up to you for the first time since he came here. Your eyes widened as it was the kind of first time seeing Venti nearly breaking up in tears and begging for forgiveness in front of you.

"I...um," you stuttered out, not knowing what to react.

"I know you can't forgive me, I even knew that even my own people can't forgive me for what I have done," he raised his head slightly as his eyes sparkled in unshed tears, "I nearly killed my own people, (Y/N), and I couldn't forgive myself for that. I could have killed lots of innocent people just like what I had done a few centuries ago. I feared that I was starting to become like Decarabian... Worst of all, I could have killed you, even though I know you're not what I have perceived you to be."

You smiled sheepishly as you spoke back, reassuring the bard that you were fine even though there was still a lingering headache caused by his outburst a while ago, "No need to apologize, in fact, I was grateful that you were one of the people who defended me that time! So don't cry, Venti."

The bard just said nothing, as he sniffled with quivered lips, but you could notice the tears started to fall in his blue-green eyes.

"I supposed that you are really involved in the Cataclysm 500 years ago since you said you had experienced killing innocent people a few centuries ago. The Khaenri'ahns, isn't it?"

Venti looked away in shame as he had heard your remarks, making you wince at the words you just released, so you try to salvage the situation, "I don't want to pry, though. I know it's kinda traumatizing for you after all."

To be honest, you never even knew what happened during the Khaenri'ah disaster, as the game was still in the Sumeru patch, and the nation was still mysterious as it was when the game was first released. All you know is the latest dump info about it in the recent patches, where Nahida once said that the six Archons are involved in the Cataclysm, while she was protecting the Irminsul.

"I guess you know all about that, after all, you're the Divine Creator of Teyvat themselves. You were supposed to know as Celestia must have been doing all of this shit in your honor," Venti whispered but you could still hear him, his eyes still looking at the window behind him, "And here I have thought that you're just an imposter."

Your eyes widened once again, for this is the first time you hear him curse, and his tone suddenly filled with a little spite. Also, the words he had said to you made you a little confused, so you asked him with a confused tone, "Why do you say that?"

Venti shook his head with hesitation before he replied to your question, "The blood, you're actually bleeding in your head because you bumped your head to the floor and it actually glittered gold like the legend says. The Divine Creator in the legends of old was supposed to have the blood of pure gold, with constellations shining in their eyes. I dunno about the constellation thing, but the gold blood we had seen coming from you was the legitimate indication that you are really the legendary deity."

"Fortunately, the citizens had been evacuated to safety thanks to the brilliant minds of Acting Grandmaster Jean and Master Diluc, along with other Knights, and that means not everyone knew about you bleeding an aureate color. But even though Bennett and Razor had to carry you to the Cathedral without gaining attention from other people, we need to have someone look at your wounds and protect you while you're still recovering."

You nodded as if you now understood everything, but deep inside, confusion and doubt was still simmering on your mind. You had known your whole life that you were born a regular human, a normal speck among billions, but being the greatest god of Teyvat that can bleed liquid gold? Last time you remembered, your blood was red. You have been in too many blood tests to confirm that.

You theorized that it has something to do with you being isekai-ed to Teyvat. The phenomenon has made your biology change to fit the essence of the game. Then you suddenly remembered how Barbara reacted when she saw Venti.

"But what about you? Based on Barbara's reaction, everyone now knew who you were..."

Venti rubbed his neck with a sheepish look, "Well, it's bound to happen sooner or later, but honestly, I wouldn't expect that I would be revealed while being in an unstable state."

He then smiled brightly but you could see the empty look in his eyes, "But on the bright side, they now gave me free wine and good food to eat for free. But to be honest, I don't really deserve their kindness after what I did as their absentee Archon who suddenly shows up and tries to hurt them."

You nodded again as you looked at your hands which were still clenching on the blanket covering your legs. Since you were just recently conscious after being knocked out for weeks, your memories of the past events were kinda fuzzy.

Yet, you were curious about what happened after you were knocked out, so you asked the bard, causing him to look at you in the eyes, "Can I ask you something?"

Venti nodded as you took a deep breath and the question was now dropped from your lips.

"What happened after I went unconscious?"

-----

Taglist: @vvyeislazzy, @chocolatekuns, @mmajoko, @jaxielous, @mulandi, @code-roevember, @the-real-fandom-person, @dilucpegg3r, @yoascheeksplayin, @kithewanderingme, @justarandomweeblol, @3there4l, @5sos-wdw, @leyla3x0, @totallyntsarcat, @tartarsaucechi1de, @uchihaeirin, @ello-its-me-ya-boi, @konzumeken, @05aaphrodite, @pix-stuff, @osamu-miya-wife11, @bajifairyy, @valka-230, @thedevioussmirk

[fanfic-gallery]

Comfort crowd [Part Three]

✎ Hashira x Reader [ Individual ]

✎ Part Three: Tomioka Giyuu, Shinazugawa Sanemi, Himejima Gyomei [ Part One || Part Two ]

✎ Tags: hurt/comfort, gn! reader, child! reader [ Gyomei - family/platonic ]

✎ CW: Involves spoilers from the manga

: ̗̀➛ Manger’s/Author’s note: For those who thought I forgot about this series- guess again! Hai.. sadly this is the last part, but if anyone is interested in stuff like this but with the Kamaboko Squad, let me know (づ￣ 3￣)づ

Yeah, I just needed company now Yeah, I just needed someone around Yeah, I don't care what song that we play Or mess that we make Just company now

Giyuu, despite a man with great power, holds the guilt of his past within the clutches of his duel toned haori. The red drenching his right, reminding him of the bloodshed he had to witness, his sister’s blood pouring over her body, ruining her lovely kimono. The squared boxes of green, orange and yellow on his left, tripping guilt when only founding out his friend death, yet he was the one rewarded for all his achievements. Some could say, he didn’t mind death breathing down his neck, and when time comes, he’ll embrace the cold blade curved around his neck.

Pupils gaze between the duel toned zouri and the pillar before you, his hands placed in a across meeting at the enclosed gap of his legs. Shaggy raven bangs swaying in the light breeze, hazy blue staring at the ground, patiently waiting as you sew his coat. With a tug and snap of the tread, you stuffed your equipment back into your box of string and needles, strolling off for what seemed like a while before returning, a cup of warm freshly brew tea in hand. Cupping his cheek with your free hand while setting the glass down, tilting his head towards you, who in turn, hesitantly melted into your palm.

“Dearest.. please.. don’t think you’re life is not worth living for.. ”

“As your life means as much to me.. ”

Sanemi, the wind pillar, brash, hot-headed and impulsive. Many avoid him, scared of what he’ll do when he gets his hands on them. Who would have thought the troubling hashira was once a gentle soul, one that takes account of everything, cherishes his loved ones. His staggering attitude is no mistake, yet it’s reasoning is nothing to sneeze at, his one dying wish, to protect his brother and darling, in order to avenge his mother, even if it means pushing them aside for the sole benefit that they stay out of the corps and demons grasp. But now that the King has died, the passing of his brother with his sacrifice in heart, he could finally put it to rest, and go home..

Clothed arm held the edges of his hilt, free hand pushing open the wooden door of his long lost home. The creaking of its bolts and hinges, making you turn towards the standing figure before you. Tears formed and drippled, as you rushed towards the pillar without a second thought, body draping over his, snuggling your head within the crooks of his neck, with arms warped against his waist ever so gently. Shinazugawa froze, hands not knowing where to place, only finding their ways to your back, patting and caressing the skin through the cloth on top. A smile slipping past his lips, tears slowly but surely dusting his cheeks as he greeted you.

“I’m home..”

“And I’m here to stay..”

As much as his heart is made of comforters, Gyomei does have doubts of those around him. Once betrayed by those close to him, leaving him for death, despite fighting for the younglings he swore to protect at all cost. Ever so often his past lingering in his present, claiming his students or newly slayers giving off similarities of the children he once had taken in under his care, which in turn, always leaves a tear in his eyes. Some would say it’s haunting him, but if you asked the man himself, he would express it as a reminder, a reminder to still protect the one he sees as deserving of it, no matter the cost.

You beamed when the pillar slowly strolled into the main entrance, your small little legs running as fast as they could, tackling the tall hashira in a big hug, arms warped around his leg. Gyomei, in turn, chuckled, hand reaching over, waiting for your guidance, dragging his palm towards the top of your head, for light ruffles on your scalp which you adored all so much. Eyes sparkled, as you begged for stories about his journey in front lines, which he happily obliged, letting you bring his frame over to the dinner table, cuisines of all sorts, steaming.

“Story time! Story time!”

“Patience, my child, I will get there in due time..”