#proto x reader | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

myownwholewildworld · 3 months ago

Text

acta, non verba - i. a badge of honour

series masterlist | main masterlist | chapter 2 pairing: conqueror!marcus acacius x ofc!reader. synopsis: scotland, 83 AD after the battle of mons graupius. the romans have come up to the boundaries of their empire with a relentless desire to conquer the savages that inhabit the highlands. they won't rest until the Caledonian tribes are subjugated. Marcus Acacius is in charge of your clansmen's fate, but if such fate is similar to your family's, you know you need to do something about it. as the only living daughter of the tribe chief, your people look to you for leadership. power plays, treason, deception, rebellion, war, love, heartbreak, betrayal. and two souls, destined to despise each other, trying to navigate it all. a/n: well, here it is! the first chapter of my new series, set in what is now scotland, during the romans' conquest of the british isles in the 1st century. hope you guys like it! as always, all interactions welcome. thank you so much for reading! <3 warnings: 18+, mdni. death, aftermath of a battle, burial of family members. reader is an original character - female, has a name (callie) and a physical description, family history, etc. i'll try to keep the references to a minimum though. age gap (callie is 26, marcus is 48). mention of infidelity and becoming a widow. marcus’ and reader’s pov. i have taken some historical licenses for ease of writing (use of "clan" as synonym for "tribe", references to irish/celtic gods, the caledonian people speak modern scottish gaelic instead of a (proto-)brittonic language). w/c: ~4.2k. dividers by @saradika-graphics i'll be tagging some people at the end of the chapter who interacted with this post. dw, i won't tag you in the next chapters unless you ask me to! also, if you want to be removed from this post, please send me a dm.

A light breeze whistled through the nearby standing stones. The dying sun provided no heat, and the ethereal landscape was cold with hues of blue and grey. Despite the shimmering wildlife that came with the first hints of spring, the meadow was uncannily silent.

The crows cackling in the distance broke such tranquil peace and woke you from your slumber.

Slowly you blinked, something wet and warm covering your eyelids. You felt it slide down your skin, pooling in the dip of your collarbone. Your limbs felt so heavy, you couldn’t lift a hand to rub your eyes clean. In fact, you were so tired that even taking a deep breath hurt.

Your orbs fluttered shut, shattered and defeated.

Dhuosnos, God of the Dead, was calling you to His side. His presence was soothing, so inviting, the most melodic sounds guiding you to Him. With the eyes of your dying imagination, He extended a welcoming hand towards you, a soft smile on His mythical features.

“Come with me, sweet child of the tribes.” A guttural voice escaped His lips, so dark and sombre it enveloped you.

You nodded, gaze down, submitted to Him.

“You can’t just take her, Dhuosnos. Callie is yet to avenge them — her purpose must be fulfilled first before she can greet you as an equal.” A second voice, feminine, otherworldly and reassuring, interrupted your exchange.

Morrígan, Goddess of War, placed Her hand on Dhuosnos’ forearm as to stop Him from reaching you. A stone of relief, but also of disappointment, sat low in your stomach when He took a step back, head bowed towards Her.

Steadily you undid your curtsy, your green eyes locking on Hers. They were black as the night sky, Her pupils and irises indistinguishable from one another. You looked into the abyss of Her sight and felt a deep-rooted longing, one you never experienced before.

“You are not done yet, mo leanabh (my child). Your people await your return.” Morrígan palmed your trembling hand, escorting you back to the earthly plane.

“But…”, you turned around to look at Her, ask for Her advice.

But She had already vanished, a sweet scent of lavander left behind.

You gasped awake, your eyes so widened, the cloudy, sunset sky above felt like it was crashing down on you. You were laying down on a pool of mud. A deep, raspy grunt escaped your lungs as you tried to move your arms. When you couldn’t, you looked down, confused.

Aengus’ lifeless body was resting on top of yours. Your father’s henchman had made the ultimate sacrifice by hiding you underneath him, away from the prying eyes of the Romans. The dense liquid caressing the skin on your face was none other than his blood. A trickle of thick red dripped from the gnarly wound in his neck on to your cheek. His eyes were staring at you emptily, his soul had already left this world when you regained consciousness.

Your father, Murdoch of Inbhir Nis, the Caledonian Overlord, had come to the aid of the Taexalian Overlord, whose territory was succumbing to the legions of Gnaeus Julius Agricola, a Roman governor with a high desire to impress his Emperor, Titus Flavius Domitianus.

Your father had gathered as many fighers as the Caledonian lands could give him. Both men and women were called to arms when the tribes were threatened. Being the daughter of the Chieftain would not spare you. You would not have chosen differently anyway, had you been given the opportunity. Fighting for land, clan and honour was your duty as much as your brothers’ and sister’s.

The journey from Inbhir Nis (Inverness) to Cala na Creige (Stonehaven) had been unforgiving, with illness and evil lying in wait. But you all had been warmly welcomed by the Taexali tribe and were fed copiously, the uisge-beatha (whisky) being served like water.

Your combined armies, shy of fifteen thousand folk, had been ambushed at Raedykes during a repositioning exercise by the Roman troops led by Agricola’s most trusted man.

General Marcus Acacius.

His mere name made you sick, anger crawling under your skin.

Fighting off your own opponents, you had seen the Roman General charge against your father like a beast, wielding a gladius over his head. The metallic impact of their swords rang loud across the landscape. The men looked into each other’s souls, an exchange of words shared between them. You were too far to listen, too far to fully see what was really happening as warriors from both sides danced through the grass.

Then you foresaw it before it happened: the heavy Roman sword fell on your father, who was struck to his knees with the General’s blade lodged in his belly.

You tried to get to him, screaming “Athair (father)!” at the top of your lungs. His eyes locked on yours before he fell sideways. You lunged forward but didn’t get to him, Aengus stopping you in your tracks.

“No, Callie, it’s too late now”, he had sorrowfully whispered in your ear before throwing you off to one side to fend off an attacker.

And then blackness swallowed you, an enemy hit you in the head so hard you lost consciousness.

That was how you came to be where you were — with your back flat on the silt and Aengus’ body blanketing yours. The grey sky above you sensed your pain, and, at Taranis’ command, it parted in the middle. The God of Thunder released a downpour to clean the blood, soot and woad’s blue dye off your face and hair.

You cried your sadness away, rainy tears sliding off the corners of your eyes — your anger, your loss, your torment, you purged it all, sobbing until you were devoid of all emotion. Taking a deep breath, which caused a needling pain on your ribs, you pushed Aengus to one side to free yourself from his weight.

The thudding sound he made almost brought more tears to your eyes.

“Sorry, uncail (uncle)”, you muttered, hovering your fingertips over his eyelids to shut them for him. Now he could finally rest.

You stood up, your knees trembling like a newborn calf. A searing pain stabbed your skull, dried blood and dirt gathering on the wound on your scalp. With a straight back, you dared to look around you. The bodies of your own men and women were scattered around the hills of Raedykes. So many lives lost, you heard all your ancestors screaming from above, their cries falling upon you in the way of rain. The green, long grass was reddened with blood, but the weeping sky had started to wash away the atrocities committed by the Romans.

Then you saw him. Your athair.

“No, no, please, no...”, you whispered as your sight became blurry again, dragging your feet towards the fallen body of your dad.

Your soul tried to tear itself apart, become its own entity. You had to summon the last drop of the royal blood that ran through your veins to keep yourself in one piece. You knelt before him, craddling his bloody hand between yours. Unconciously your body rocked back and forth until you hugged him, laying flat on top of him.

Time stood still, like a thread on the expert hands of a wool weaver. It could have been minutes, hours or days, your pain too great to bear, to comprehend.

And then you felt a hand lightly tap your shoulder.

You startled, your mind and body jumping back into survival mode, gripping your sgian-dubh (small knife) close to your chest.

“It’s okay, mo phiuthar (my sister). It’s me, Torcall”, a raspy, masculine voice forced you to focus on the man in front of you.

He was your father’s most important tacksman and also husband to your older sister Mairead — your sweet Maisie, as you always called her. She was the eldest of the four siblings while you were the youngest. Always so witty and quick with a joke, Maisie kept up the spirits even when the circumstances were dire — in fact, before your paths had parted during the battle, she jested about your H-shaped shield being larger than you.

When you turned around, Torcall flattened his hands on your shoulders, slightly shaking you so you would come back to reality.

His blue eyes pierced through you, the situation becoming clearer in your mind. Thousands of your tribesmen were dead. Your father too.

“Maisie?”, you asked in a hush. Your heart clenched when your brother-in-law shook his head no. You were afraid to speak, but you did nonetheless. “Aodh and Somhairle?”

Torcall stared at you, his silence speaking loudly. “They are all dead.”

The air evacuated your lungs, feeling as if a spear had run through you. Learning about the death of Maisie and your twin brothers broke something within you, something fundamental and primal. They were your everything, your most trusted confidants. Despite being of different ages, you all were so tight-knit it was difficult to find one of you alone.

A heart-shattering wail escaped your lips as you bent over yourself, your chest snug against your knees.

Morrígan had unashamedly claimed most of your family that day, except for your beautiful mother. Now Her words made sense: you were yet to avenge them, to fulfil your purpose. She had spared you for a reason, not so you could pity yourself, knees deep in the mud.

To avenge them, you had to kill the hand who showered this tragedy upon you.

General Marcus Acacius.

A raven’s strident, gurgling croak forced you to look up to the skies — a subtle reminder that Morrígan was watching closely. The massive bird was circling above your heads, like a vulture waiting to feast on a carcass. With resolution, you wiped away your tears, your sobs now silent, and nodded at Torcall.

“I understand. How many…?”, your voice faltered before you could finish your question.

“A couple of thousands. We have found cover in the Dunnottar Woods while we regroup and… bury our dead.” Torcall replied, his eyes averted with the last sentence.

You had lost a sister, but he had lost a wife, the mother to his now half-orphaned children. “I’m sorry”, you muttered, your lips pouting once more.

“She died fighting, the death of a warrior.” His proud voice did not waver. “And your father?”

Your heart wept at his mention but managed to control the anxious fluttering.

“The General killed him.” Your teeth gritted with hatred.

“Mo bana-phrionnsa (my princess)”, one of your father’s retinue members bowed his head to you once you walked into the circle they had formed in a meadow between the trees.

A few dozen men were scattered around the area, fires lighting the dark night while shades of red and orange flickered, creating fiery, dancing shades. You held a torch and carefully waved it in front of you, looking at the faces who watched you back eagerly.

You saw in your men what was brewing inside you: despair, defeat, sorrow. All your souls grieving in unison — all of you had lost someone that day.

At six and twenty, you did not expect to be in this position. You were the youngest daughter of the Overlord — you were never meant to lead your people. The task ahead of you felt titanic, unachievable.

But you had no other option. General Marcus Acacius had forced your hand.

He came, he saw, he conquered.

And now you had to deal with the gut-wrenching outcome of his departure.

“We’ll go back home to Inbhir Nis. But before that, we must give burial to our people.” You had to make a herculean effort to infuse your tone with steadiness.

Torcall first, and then the rest, bowed their heads to you.

“As you command, mo bana-phrionnsa”, he replied, and quickly barked orders around in your stead.

Your chest felt heavy with responsibility and grief. What pained you the most was not being able to carry your brothers and sister with you back home. They would not be buried under the cairns near you family home with the rest of your ancestors.

And what was worst — thousands of lives now depended on you. The weight of your tribe's destiny heavily rested on your shoulders now, like Atlas carrying the heavens.

Maisie, Aodh and Somhairle had been lined up on a patch of wildflowers that you had picked yourself the night prior — their arms were threaded together with your sister in the middle. Your clansmen had also surrounded the makeshift burial pit with wood to aid the combustion.

As you placed the last stone on top of them, you also deposited a bright, bloomed thistle. The flower that blossomed in every nook and cranny of your beautiful motherland, despite the harsh winter or conditions it faced. Like the phoenix rising from the ashes, it would always come back, stronger and more brightful than ever.

Devotion, bravery, determination, and strength — the thistle was a badge of honour for the Caledonians.

With a renewed brawn unbeknownst to you, you threw the lighted torch and watched as the fire consumed the bodies underneath the stones.

There were no tears left within you. Only purpose and resolution.

The way back to Inbhir Nis was tiring and soul-crushing. Hiking through the Cairngorms had been a difficult task with so many people behind you, but luckily you all managed to make it through without any losses.

With each mile covered, you saw the devastation left behind by the Romans. If this was any indication of what awaited ahead, you should start bracing yourself for what you would see. It seemed that the Romans were set towards the northwest — Inbhir Nis was right in their path.

You quickly recognised the landscape as you walked towards Loch Moy. A thick, dark column of smoke towered above the pine trees. Your heart raced as you picked up your dark green skirt and ran towards the loch, ignoring the calls of your brother-in-law.

You could run through those woods blindly — this was the land where you were born, the land you were named after. Your name was an unusual one — Caledonia, in honour of the earth beneath your rushing feet. Just a few people called you Callie, mainly your family and closest friends. With your bright, fiery red hair, green almond eyes and a face dotted with freckles, you were the epitome of your people. That was probably why when someone new learned your name, they always said it suited you.

Dodging the last few trees, you made it to the edge of the loch. In the shallows, the crannog of Naimh, your community’s healer, was burning down to its foundation. You covered your mouth with a sombre expression, your eyes itchy because of the dense smoke and unspent tears.

The Romans had gotten to your settlement before you did.

“Callie, wait up”, said Torcall behind you, struggling to catch up with you.

He halted right behind you, the silence between you was almost tangible.

“The rangers have returned from their reconnaissance mission.” His voice was plain, contained. You turned your heard towards him, slowly, hardening yourself for his next words. “Your mother is dead.”

The last glimmer of hope within you vanished. A single tear skidded through your cheek — angrily, you wiped it off.

You were alone in this world. Everyone you cared for had been taken from you.

“Is everything to your liking, Dominus (Master)?”, the male roman servant asked in a low hush, head bowed, eyes fixed on the cobblestone.

“Yes, now leave”, Marcus dismissed him with a wave of his hand.

The General looked around him with a mixture of curiosity and disgust. He was accustomed to much more elegant surroundings. Although the barbarians did try, their architecture was nothing in comparison to Rome’s.

The castle he was in was small and it only had two floors. It was mainly made of sturdy, grey rocks and dark wood. The design was not very sophisticated, all square and rugged edges. It had two towers and a barbican. The decoration inside was bare, with just enough furniture and no luxuries.

The only warmth was brought by the colourful tapestries adorning the cold, thick walls — one had caught Marcus' attention at his arrival when he first entered the dais. It told a story he had not heard before.

A dragon-like figure lurked beneath the rippling surface of a lake, attracting the attention of the villagers. At dusk it would emerge, a guttural sound echoing in the dead of night, as if it was calling another. Any bìrlinns (wooden vessel) left on the shore would appear destroyed the next morning. Fishermen were worried and called upon the town's druids, afraid of the Loch Ness monster. To appease the beast, every full moon, the druids would whorship the creature, bringing oblations and sacrificies to quench its thirst.

Marcus made a mental note of keeping his distance from that Loch Ness. As a devoted Roman, he was wary of the mystic creatures that skulked in the depths of human fear.

Although he missed his home, he had several debts to pay. The Emperor would not accept no for an answer, so he had to be a reluctant participant in this incursion — in fact, neither Domitian nor Agricola had really asked him to tame the highlanders up in Caledonia. They knew his skills would be most needed in combat, having been praised by bards and poets alike after his many years in the battlefield.

At eight and forty, Marcus Acacius had had his good share of tragedy and death, both personal and in war. His life had not been easy, having to forge a name of his own since childbirth and then having been recently betrayed by his own spouse.

The thought of Livia still angered him — she had had the audacity of blaming him for her infidelity, accusing him of always being away, of loving Rome more than his own family. Her cheating had been going on for as many years as their arranged marriage, throwing a doubtful shade on his paternity to both his children.

His life had come crumbling down in the last few months, so maybe coming to Britannia had not been such a bad idea. Female adultery was a crime penalised with death and that was a decision that Marcus had yet to make — outing Livia’s unfaithfulness would condemn her to Pluto's realm. Did he really want that for who had been his wife for more than thirty years?

Pinching the bridge of his hooked nose, Marcus walked towards the only window in the room. The roman took a deep breath and exhaled steadily — he needed to think of something else.

His mind went back to the battle of Mons Graupius. The spilling of blood never became easier with time — if anything, it had become harder, splintering his soul further. If he closed his eyes, he could still hear the piercing, pained shriek of a woman as he imparted death on Murdoch of Inbhir Nis.

Her hair was dyed with black soot and tied back, her face covered in a blue paste and ash. He was too far to catch the colour of her eyes, but he thought them dark azure. The fierceness of her expression took him aback, her voice shouting a word he did not recognise. But his eyes did not have time to linger on the feral woman a few yards away, because a savage attacked him.

His hand stilled on the rocky window’s sill. The barbarians called this place Inbhir Nis. The stone castle was that of the chief’s family, atop of a hill with views to the scenery underneath. It was rudimentary and lacked many commodities — nothing comparable to his villa in Rome. The tribal settlement was formed of huts made of stone, timber and hay.

Agricola had decided to burn down the outskirts of the town and killed the wife of the clan chief making a macabre example of her, so the people would submit to the Roman’s yoke quickly, crushing any opportunity of rebellion. The message was clear: Rome would not tolerate being challenged. Anyone who did, would face the most painful of deaths. The governor left to go northward, leaving Marcus behind to rebuild the area to Rome’s standards. The emperor had deemed the location an important enclave for his empire, being the main town in the Moray Firth.

Marcus was standing in what he thought was the bedchamber of Murdoch. With the Overlord and his family alienated, the primitive people of the highlands needed educating and he had been given the task of doing so. Not a welcomed one, but he had a duty to Rome that had to be fulfilled.

With a heavy sigh, he undid the brooch at the base of his neck, relieving himself of the heavy, white sagum (cape) that was part of his attire. He threw it on the uncomfortable bed. He unfastened the golden, laurel-shaped bracelets around his wrists, and then proceeded to undo the tight knots that held his armour in place.

Then a knock on the thick, wooden door broke the silence of the room.

“Come in”, thinking it would be his male servant, he didn’t turn around.

“Dominus, dinner is ready”, a very soft voice with a very marked accent made him look over his shoulder.

A pair of very bright, almond-shaped, emerald-green eyes locked on his, framed by what he would describe as fire hair — so red it looked like a hellish aura crowning your head.

So bright were your eyes, he almost felt his soul being examined by your hypnotising gaze. Marcus had never seen eyes like those.

How dared he stand where your father did? Anger shimmered under your skin, but you kept it in check. When you realised you were holding his gaze for longer than what was appropriate for a servant girl, you averted your eyes, inspecting the stones under your feet.

Torcall called you mad for doing this, but you had made up your mind. If you really wanted to overthrow the Roman General and win back your family’s castle and land, you would need to sew yourself into his everyday life. Gain his trust, learn his secrets and use that information against him. Your people were counting on you for freedom, and you would not allow yourself to disappoint them. Even if it was the last thing you did.

“Who are you?”, his raspy voice filled the atmosphere as he resumed the task of undoing the ties on his armour.

Did he have no shame, undressing himself in front of a maid? Mind you, you were not an innocent servant, having been widowed recently. But still. The romans had no modesty, you assumed.

You had to think quickly. You had learnt that the governor and the general both thought the whole chief’s family dead, so you could not out yourself. A very few, selected people called you Callie, almost always in the intimacy of your home, when strangers were not around. Your nickname was precious to you because it was only used by those you loved.

“My name is Callie, Dominus”, you offered your nickname in a rusty Latin. It had been a while since you had to use a language that was not your native one.

“Callie.” The way your name rolled off his tongue gave you goosebumps. You didn’t like the way he pronounced it — it lingered in his mouth for too long, dragging each letter. You wished your words back, but you couldn't change it now.

Instead of clenching your jaw, you nodded. “Yes, my lord, I’m one of the servant girls who tended to the clan chief’s family before you.” You explained, your head still bowed.

You ventured your eyes up for a second, catching a glimpse of his naked torso. Unconsciously, you pursed your lips. The way your heart pounded loud for that one second made you furrow your brows in confusion.

He might be a gorgeous man, but he was a killer. And you had no taste for soulless murderers, that much you knew about yourself.

“Call my attendant, Atticus, to help me get ready for supper. I have no need of you. And ask the kitchen staff to heat some water and bring it up here.” His tone was emphatic, unwavering.

His rejection, in other circumstances, would have been most welcomed, but you needed him to trust you, to confide in you so you could plot his demise — to destroy him. This was not a good start to your plan, but you needed to play the long game.

“I could certainly help you with a bath now, Dominus, but your wish is my command.” You forced the words out, when in reality you wanted to spit them to his murderous face.

He just nodded in your direction, his movements stiff and measured. “Just my attendant will suffice, now go.”

With your fingers laced on your back, you curtsied, walking backwards towards the door of your father’s bedchamber. You could not seem too eager, or he would become suspicious.

When you were in the corridor with the door closed behind you, you took a deep breath and straightened your back.

You would not take no for an answer. Marcus Acacius would yield to you, whatever the cost.

@devilbat2 @subterralienpanda @lordofthundersstuff @just-mj-or-not

@grace16xx @killaqceen @minabarker @noisynightmarepoetry

@perfectlytenaciousrunaway @myheadspaceisuseless @imnvv @bekscameron

@immyowndefender @orchiddream108 @jungkooksmamii @jellybeanxc

@sjc7542 @triangleshapewinner @moongirlgodness @ijustlovemensm

@box-of-sarcasm @orcasoul @thesadvampire @shittypunkbarbeque

@penvisions @fairiebabey @blueturd16 @vestafir

@holla-at-me-hood @httpsastral @evangelinemedici @cathsteen

@ksxxxxxx @whoaitspascal87 @passionnant-peche @madnessofadaydreamer

@hufflepuff-in-narnia @akumagrl @bobcatblahs @thepalaceofmelanie

@itsbrandy @voidofendlessdarkness @tardy-bee @pascalislove

@inept-the-magnificent @dianomite @thereisaplaceintheheart @fridays13th

@witch-moon-babe @amortentiaxo @holaputanas @kmmg98

180 notes · View notes

gamerwoman3d · 10 months ago

Text

A Land Before Time

🔞 An MK1 x Reader 🔞

▸ includes: Liu Kang [mk1 versions] F! Reader◂

Author's Note: This was based on a sex dream that I had, that I feel @genesiswrld SHOULD have had, because Liu Kang is hot but Bi-Han is my squishy. Not saying the dream was wasted on me, just that it was misplaced 😆

Female anatomy used.

Imagine for a moment that this New Era is real, and the existence that you're currently living is also real, and contains the New Era inside it as a game - but you find a technical way through the use of coding and quantum tech, to enter Liu Kang's New Era, “cool world” style, as something of a god/goddess.

Because you live in our shared reality, the one in which the game was created, you can in fact “code” the New Era into anything you like, within reason. But you have to get past the guardian. Liu Kang and Geras are gods there. But here, they are just characters, with Geras also partially functioning as a type of uncrackable password manager/encryption software. You can give your own self all sorts of powers to take into the New Era; but you can't change the core game unless you can get past Geras and Liu Kang.

You would either need their permission, or you'd have to force/brute force them to comply.

You can literally step from our world into the New Era and live there, immortal, with godlike power. And you do that. You use the code and give yourself the boosts you think you'll need to defend yourself if necessary.

Because you have the capacity to travel to any physical point in the timeline, as well as any temporal point in the timeline, you choose something you think will be easy to start. A time with fewer enemies, a time that you wanted to see in your own world, once.

🔞 Spicy/Explicit after the cut 🔞

When you first stepped through the portal into the New Era, the pristine sands beneath your feet were deliciously toasty. You could not help but to remove your footwear and sink your toes into the sand. The air here is pure, and filled with the strange buzz of unseen insects in the distance. The soft swirl of sand in the hourglass before you quieted. Without the hiss of sand, an absence of familiar noises from your past life became distinct; no motorcars, no hum of electronics, no trace of people, and a distinct lack of birdsong.

If you peer into the reflection of the hourglass over Liu Kang’s shoulder, you can see glimpses of early six-limbed proto-vaternians being gently guided into evolution in a neighboring realm. Liu loses his concentration on the sands as he sees you. Nothing devastating happens in the universe in that instance; there is simply a pause in the work.

Liu Kang knows immediately that you are not supposed to be here, standing before him and the hourglass.

He knows because he has not yet created humans.

Outside of the very meticulously kept garden that surrounds the hourglass, dinosaurs still rule this earth. Even birds have yet to grace the planet.

“How are you here? Or perhaps I should ask, are you truly here? Is it possible that even gods can still have dreams, or hallucinations?”

You tell him you are from a timeline before his own. You are older than his entire universe, older than Kronika, than Geras, older than the hourglass. And while you yourself did not create his universe, you were alive at the time it was conceived[1].

You tell him you shared a planet with, and walked among, the beings that created his universe. His universe is based on what your people knew of their own universe. Your feedback may or may not have influenced these creators; but you have some access to their same power of creation, and have come to use the hourglass to enhance his universe for yourself.

You came prepared to fight if necessary. Liu Kang would be very particular over who has access to the hourglass.

You may even fight a few rounds if you're curious to test your code enhancements - at least until he understands that you do have the power to control parts of his universe already, and the power to defeat him if he made it necessary. Through the encounter, he learns that you aren't lying about being from an even older timeline responsible for creating the hourglass.

But whatever it is that you want to change about the New Era, he likely won't let you without a fresh fight. And another fresh fight, and another, for every single little change you think you could want.

“We don't have to fight. We can compromise.”

For Liu Kang, it has been a lonesome existence, living out the creation of the new era in solitude. Geras can offer Liu Kang company in much the same way as an AI Assistant bot can offer a human company. But you know the depths of loneliness must be unbearable for a creator who is utterly alone in the universe across all of time. You know this, because even in your own world, the mythologies of all creator gods often began with the creation of people.

Even the gods of your own reality were so unbearably lonesome that they, in myth, created all of your ancestors, either for companionship or worship.

Your offer of company is accepted graciously, the moment he understands that you won't be withholding your companionship to exchange for the powers of the hourglass. But to settle conflicts over what happens in the hourglass, you both have an idea.

Gambling, games, and wagers. But instead of betting on who will win a physical fight between you both, you gamble on which of you can bring the other the most pleasure.

You're both seated in the zen garden, where the tropical heat has warmed the sand. Sheets of some soft fabrics are laid out in a manner similar to beach towels, allowing you both to walk and sit without burning your thighs or disturbing much of the sand.

He has a very smug “I know I've already won” look on his face the moment you suggested a contest based on sexual pleasure instead of kombat. You might think billions of years of being pent up would give you an advantage over him, but it doesn't; your customized form in this new era was generated anew when you stepped through the portal into his era. This particular body has yet to experience such pleasure at all, and will react, on a neurochemical level, at its most basic “code,” reacting the same as it would if falling in love for the first time. It will, in a nutshell, intoxicate you with want and pleasure, as if you yourself had never experienced it before.

But you didn't realize this. Your overconfidence proved your ignorance.

“You decide the winner. I trust your judgment will be fair. Or at least I don't trust my own judgment call to be unbiased,” you say.

Liu Kang smiles.

“A designated judge will be unnecessary,” he says, "I am certain we will both agree on who has won the challenge.”

He looks off in the distance before continuing.

“I would appreciate it though if we could choose some less intimate positions, at least at first. I'm still not over the grief of losing my dearest friend, and my beloved. I'm not sure how I might react, looking into the face of another, knowing I shall never have these moments with her. It isn't that I don't realize the finality of her destruction; but giving this kind of pleasure to another is a turning point that I may never be ready for.”

You slide closer to him and caress his shoulder, enough for him to feel your inner warmth.

“Grief is made of the same stuff as love. It's just the love-stuff that's leftover with nowhere to go,” you say.

He lays his head on your shoulder, pulls your hand to his cheek and tilts his face into it. Peace painted across the features of his face as he melted into your touch. His relaxation left you with an indescribable euphoria that deepened with each breath.

“Thank you for saying so. I feel more comfortable now, knowing that you understand,” he says.

“And I'm glad you said something. I like it when you tell me what you want. We can do this however you like. After all, this is a kontest for providing pleasure; not receiving it,” you said.

“Buy you will be receiving it,” he gloated, “and I shall be providing as much as you can possibly stand.”

“Ooh,” you teased, “Promises, promises! Hah, I like it. I feel good about you taking the lead, if you would?”

“Of course,” he said.

As he smiled up at the heavens, he closed his eyes and bit his lip. His eyes squeezed hard enough that the apples of his cheeks warped around the outline of his eyes. He took a deep breath that sounded as if he swallowed an antagonistic laugh.

“You aren't allowed to hate me when I show you how easy this is,” he said.

He turned his body towards yours, guided your body into facing away. You removed just enough clothing to feel his touch, to not hinder him from penetrating you if he chose. The fabric that you left over the top of your glistening pussy was delightfully thin and stretchy enough to move to the side in a pinch.

You spread yourself face down across the sheets of fabric. The warm sand below the soft fabric gave way, cushioned your ribs, and pressed its warmth up into your breasts.

He crawled on top. His weight on you pressed you slightly deeper into the fabric-covered sand. The heat and weight of his muscular legs across the backs of your thighs alone was enough to make you crave completion. But then, his clothed erection pressed against the cleft of your pussy until your slit pinched around the thin fabric. He slotted himself into the fold of fabric and held you there, wedged between the hot sand and his heated, immovable body. You squirmed into him, only to discover that you couldn't move if you wanted to, with your legs pinned to the sand.

You turned your face to the side to look over your shoulder at him. He wore a smug expression as he looked down at you.

You could feel your clit throbbing against… the hot sand? or his shaft. You could not tell. Both were equally firm and toasty.

He was hard. Slotted against the fabric, he nudged his erection firmly against you, the head nestling between your folds to swipe against your clit. His breath deepend, you could feel the air from his nostrils against your neck, just below the ear.

Against your back, you could feel his chest expand and cinch with each breath. You were caught in heat, trapped between his muscles and the sand. You liked this, being at his mercy. He rested his chin on your shoulder and huffed, resting his entire weight on you as he hunched. The cock knocking repeatedly against your throbbing clit had you squirming, whining, whimpering as you held your squeals of pleasure in. He ran one hot palm along your side. He caressed and groped your glute before freeing his cock from its cage of fabric. He hooked a finger around the strip of stretchy fabric above your mound and slipped it to the side.

The bare cockhead slipped between the fabric and your clit. Liu Kang let the fabric snap back into place, catching against the bottom of his shaft. Your pleasure built up as he rolled his hips and frotted against you, fucking the gap between your panties and your clit.

You balled your fists, grabbing handfuls of sand through the fabric sheets. He repositioned slightly so that you could feel the wet swiping of his heated cockhead against your clit more intensely. Your fingers came undone from the fabric and all ten digits splayed out in a fan shape as your quiet whimpers suddenly broke into a muffled outcry of pleasure.

His hands found yours. He covered the tops of your hands with his palms and threaded his fingers between yours, gripping each hand with interlaced fingers. You felt the tips of his fingers curl past the webbing between your digits to press against the insides of your palms. He pressed your hands, and his, to the sand, to pin them where he wanted them - where you could push back into him, but not escape. Not that you'd want to.

Your skin tingled anywhere he touched it, and the skin where the pads of his fingers glanced against the inside of your palm, threaded along the webbing of your fingers, was exceptionally sensitive in a way that made you feel safe, loved, cared for deeply, and connected.

The warm weight of his body on yours made you feel safe, while the cock massaged between your pussy lips. His thrusts massaged them open without penetration until you could feel every fiber of yourself unwinding, melting into the sand.

You looked back at him, only to see that he was still gazing at the side of your face, waiting for you to open your eye. His smug, slight smile never left his visage. He squeezed your hands with a pleasant pressure, as if he were wringing them out. You realized in that moment that you were swollen inside, and quivering at the entrance.

Then he stops moving, intentionally. You feel him, all over you, weighing you down, trapping you in the imprint of fabric in the hot sand. You feel your heavy, puffy cunt lips throbbing against his stationary cockhead. You're sensitive as fuck. Even your heartbeat rocks your clit against his cock too much.

He breathes. He breathes out through his nose, his gentle panting breath trickles underneath your ear, down your neck. His chin follows, as he rests it in the crook of your neck with his jaw at your shoulder. His skin just feels like skin, yet you're electrified by it. You're so sensitive in your new form. He could stay like this all day. You cannot. He knows. You know he knows.

You know because when you look at him, his unchanging, stoic “I told you so” smirk is so purposefully calm, that you could consider it antagonistic. Even just this look he gave you had you dripping wet for him, to say nothing of the thick smooth, hot cockhead nestled against your clit, or the warm shaft that your heavy, fevered wet pussy lips spread themselves over. You give a defeated cry of pleasure and gave in. You tap out against the sand, to tell him he's already won, and he responds by firming up his grip on your hands and moving in for the kill. He devours your neck as he nudges your clit around and fucks you, alternating between the two activities until you cum beneath him.

Your orgasm does not slow him down. He slips his cockhead against the fluttering entrance of your cunt and pauses, as if testing something, as if something changed. The slick hole winks against him and he sinks inside to stay.

“You're so creamy after you've cum,” he purred.

His cock feels amazing, warm and firm and deep, exploring inside you. He pressed it past a spot inside you where the pressure feels so good that you feel you might die unless it, that spot in particular, is beat to hell. He pressed past it, but drew back, stroking slower and deliberate against this inner spot. You felt a sudden dying urge to feel him hammer his cock into this weak spot inside you. The change in your whimpers gave you away.

“This little spot right here is particularly velvety,” he said, “it's just gooey… no. Buttery. Right here.”

He let his cockhead glide against the spot in several slow deliberate strokes for emphasis. You groaned brokenly into the sand and bucked back into him. You had chills. You had goosebumps even on the hot sand. He held and pinned your elbows to your sides. Your nipples stood erect beneath you, the tips ground into the fabric as you bucked backward into him. He paused, held you down, let you rock and buck until the fit of passion washed over you, and you could still yourself. He didn't shush you. He just pulled back until his cockhead hovered a hair away from that sweet spot and he waited for you to collect yourself. You caught your shuddering breath, but couldn't look at him without feeling like you might cum again. You looked, and groaned deep. He acknowledged your desperation.

“I'm going to start fucking that velvety, buttery spot now,” he whispered toward your ear, “I do not know when I'll stop.

Scream if you need to. I've yet to create a single person that could hear you.”

His cock pinpointed that part within you that most yearned for it the instant he buried it in you. He pressed himself against it and wrung you out. You felt it as your own cum for him seeped out, dribbled down onto the fabric and soaked through the fabric into the sand.

Every stroke is devastating. You're loud as fuck and no one else can hear it. The skies open up and it rains on the two of you, mostly upon his back. Judging by his gentle moans, the rain itself seems to give him pleasure as the droplets hiss against his back, only to turn into steam. You could swear that you're causing it, that this rain is your rain. Suddenly you are cumming because it is raining, and it is raining because you have cum. When your palms tremble, he re-interlaces his fingers with yours to squeeze your hands in his, wringing you out, wringing out your anxiety, wringing out your pleasure, and possibly wringing out the very act of rain itself from the sky above. You couldn’t explain it, but somehow you knew.

You became the rain. And the rain became you. The rain became a goddess, and the goddess was you. The wetter he made you, the more the world flooded. He had no intention of going easy, but you found yourself clenching, squeezing, sucking him in, working yourself against his body as he worked you apart with his.

“That's it,” he huffed, “now, you're getting it.”

His breath grew ragged.

He said, “Rain.”

You nodded, not fully understanding.

“Rain on me,” he said.

Your eyes widened. He knew. You knew he knew. Rain pummeled your bodies in a deluge as you felt, not just the tension of your body snap, but the tension of your sudden ascent to godhood burst into creation, almost as a miniature version of the big bang. Untold energies from deep within your soul burst forth and spread out in all directions, spreading your power throughout all the realms, both giving you power over all the rains in the entire universe, and giving the entire universe the gift of your rains.

But you couldn't focus on the sensation of becoming a god, as Liu Kang fucked another blinding orgasm from you. This time, his composure cracked, and he came screaming with you in tandem, hot against you, his inner flame temporarily quenched by the deluge of your pleasure. The two of you thrashed against each other with abandon, riding out your pleasure together, before collapsing boneless into the soaked fabric atop the muddying sands.

The rains subsided gradually as the two of you caught your breath. You moved to roll over, and Liu rolled off of you onto his rain-soaked back. He closed his eyes and let the pitter-patter of the rain wash over his body, cooling him, turning to steam in the air around you both. You rolled onto your back beside him, then onto your side to drape yourself around him.

“Wow,” you said between heavy breaths.

“...Yeah,” he replied, still panting.

When you caught enough of your breath to speak full sentences, you could only think to ask one question.

“Did you just make me a fucking rain goddess?” You asked.

He nodded and laughed.

“You didn't think I'd let the first hot sex in my new era be mediocre,” he said.

“Holy fuck though,” you said.

‘Literally?” he teased.

“Okay yeah literally, but I'm starting to think I won that one,” you said.

He just closed his eyes and smiled.

“Okay wise guy, who won?”

He bit his lip and jerked his thumbs towards his chest, gesturing to himself.

“Ugh. You're impossible. Round two!” You demanded.

“You're losing this one too,” he said.

He rolled on top of you and peppered you with kisses. He promised you a second round, and a third - if you survived the second.

But first he needed to check progress in the hourglass. You peered into it with him and saw proto-vaternians in their pre-paleolithic era. A group of them surrounded a cairn, upon which sat a strange skull decorated with stones and feathers. You asked Liu Kang what it was; he told you it was a representation of you. You were the very first art, the very first goddess. You were the first to collect worship and be created in such a manner. You arrived in the new era just in time. The ancestors of the Vaternians had just created and worshiped their first god, which happened now to be you.

Had it not been for your intervention, Liu Kang would have been forced to grant this worship to the one you knew as Rain.

[To be continued.]

[Need more MK1 smut? Check the pin 📌]

[Need more Liu Kang smut? Check the Choose Your Own Adventure, below!]

#mortal kombat #liu kang mk1 #liu kang imagine #liu kang x reader #liu kang fanfic #mk1 #mortal kombat 1 #liu kang x you #liu kang x y/n #no beta we die like outworld empresses

215 notes · View notes

snakeeeater · 5 months ago

Text

hey man, nice shot

[dante sparda x gn werewolf!reader] -> prologue

PLEASE READ:

★ This is DMC5 Dante!!

★ This is borderline crack right now but will develop a bit more bear with me fellas

★ That’s all! Enjoy this wacky woohoo garbage

So, you’re fucked.

That’s what you’re thinking when the uglyass pyrobat you’re stalking breaks through the roof of a warehouse on Seventh. The building’s got these hellish glowing red lights pulsating from the cracks forming in its dilapidated state, and suddenly your M1911s and dearly beloved 14 Randall don’t feel sufficient.

You’re thankful for the rain and overcast sky tonight, because it masks your footsteps and softens your shadow’s mark against the ground as you slowly approach the place. The hood of your sweatshirt is soaked through— you thought about putting on your windbreaker earlier to stay dry and warm, but the plastic-y sounds it made when you moved would certainly gain unwanted attention from the demon you were stalking.

You shift one of the straps of your holsters before crouching by the window. Your knees crack. You press your back to the wall for a moment.

Okay.

Now that you’re this close you can tell that there’s definitely some sort of demonic ritual going on inside from what you hear— voices that sound like sandpaper speak in an overlapping chatter. You strain your ears. There’s the sound of magic sparking and the sound of something… squishy? It sounds like someone being sliced in a horror movie.

You shudder at the implications of that sound, but keep your mouth shut.

When hearing doesn’t yield any more ideas, you turn on your heels. The rubber soles of your combat boots grind the gravel under your feet a little too loudly and you freeze. A fearful eye of yours shoots up to see if the demons heard anything.

A second passes.

Another.

You seem to be safe… for now.

You decide against sticking your head over the windowsill and opt to put an eye to one of the holes in the walls. You squint through the hazy red filling the room.

And your blood runs ice cold.

A cross levitates in the center of the empty warehouse and a naked woman hangs upside down from it, spinning slowly. She’s been brutally ripped open and you’re sure all her blood was used in making the markings on the floor that you’re failing to interpret. Her— oh god, you want to vomit— her organs are organized in messy piles in what you assume are the cardinal directions.

In a fleeting attempt to tear your eyes away from that disgusting scene, you decide take in the demons.

You see three bowing Hell Caina, a triad of pyrobats circling the ceiling, the shadows of three Death Scissors, three massive Proto Angelo heading Scudo Angelo units of three, and at the center of it all, three goddamn Lusachia which were doing all the raspy chanting you hear.

You turn around, pressing your back to the wall.

The number three seems to be important to this ritual. You’d have to tell Morrison.

“Shit.” You press the heels of your palms to your eye sockets.

You almost laugh.

If you got back to Morrison from here.

Sure, you weren’t human anymore. Sure, you were legally dead, so it wouldn’t really matter if you were crushed like a grape. And sure, you survived a freak werewolf attack.

But after dying, being buried, transforming during the new moon cycle, and crawling out of the ground, you still weren’t able to bust out the monster hiding underneath your skin at will.

You massaged the scarring bite wounds that had been left behind on your left shoulder. They was no longer tender, but they still looked angry as hell.

“Maybe a life-or-death situation will bring it out.” You whisper so softly you can’t hear it yourself. It worked for most fictional characters, anyway. You’re left with virtually no choice.

You position yourself at the window.

Feeling like a stereotypical “bad boy” in a straight-to-DVD teen movie sneaking into his girlfriend’s room at night, you enter the warehouse slowly through the window. You’re not quite sure how the quiet rustling goes ignored. Plot armor, maybe.

You crouch in the shadows a stack of crates cast upon the floor and aim down the front sight of your gun, like Morrison taught you. You remember some wise words from… well, every movie you’ve ever seen featuring a person learning how to use a gun: aim where they’re headed, not where they are.

You take in a shaky breath and

BANG!

You’ve fired a shot at a pyrobat. By a miracle, you hit it and it spirals downward gracelessly, whacking itself on a Scudo Angelo’s head and twitching to death.

The entire hellish garrison turns to face you. If this were a Marvel movie, you’d make a quippy one-liner and kick ass.

In your current situation, however, a Hell Caina shrieks at you and slices a gaping hole in your body with its scythe. You blinked, and it was tearing into your flesh like a rabid dog to a raw turkey on Thanksgiving.

Through the pity-training Morrison put you through, the two of you found out that you can tank hits because of your werewolfish condition.

But it didn’t mean you liked to do it.

“Ow.” Is your response to the Hell Caina. It’s not even a shout, it’s more of a lame, throwaway comment. Some may even smell the stench of predetermined defeat radiating off of your body.

Since you’re close enough to shoot without missing, you point your pistol at its face and use your free hand to press against your wound. When you pull the trigger, it squeals loudly and melts away.

“Too bad I’m not like the other hunters.” You mumble. The tank role in video games was pretty boring. All they did was take damage so their cooler DPS-skilled teammates could do the actual killing. And then you died if you had nobody else with you.

It fits with your general luck.

You shoot a few bullets into the air and miss every shot. You shoot a Proto Angelo. The bullet ricochets off its shield, and you almost start sobbing.

You’re stupid for doing this. You’re no hunter. You’re too old to pick it up efficiently, according to everyone else you’ve talked to about jobs. You’re probably going to die somehow— maybe these demons will overpower your uncanny healing or just send you to Hell.

“This was supposed to be easy.” You laugh because if you’re not laughing, you’d be crying.

Your guns click with the telltale sign that they’re empty now.

“Great.” You growl. You hadn’t counted on wasting so many bullets in such a short amount of time— call it wishful thinking, call it ignorance, call it a total mistake.

A pyrobat spews fire in your direction, which you somersault to the side to avoid. At least you still had that ability.

You sigh as it obviously charges up another shot of fire to spit at you. “I wish I did Krav Maga when I was a kid. Then I’d rip and tear you guys apart.”

The pyrobat is unamused by your reference to Doom, the pyrobat spits fire again. You roll out of the way again. “Or maybe I should’ve been more like a stereotypical American and started learning how to shoot young.”

You’re talking too much for someone about to die. Your head is too light for someone who wants to run away.

The revving sounds of a motorcycle round up by the entrance of the warehouse.

“And that’s probably the police.” you sigh. This was turning out to be a whole mess. Now, you’d have horrible things happen to you and civilians would also be involved.

The doors to the warehouse bust open with a loud BANG. A man with hair the color of undyed silk walks in like he owns the place and every building in a five mile radius. In his hands he carries twin pistols that look like a similar model to yours. And on his back, he carries a sword like a badass.

You immediately envy this man’s swagger. He’s clearly another one of those “I’ve been doing this since I was ten” hunters, here to clean up a mess you couldn’t even get out of unscathed.

The man clicks his tongue at the sight of the mutilated woman. “That’s unfortunate. I guess that means… it’s time to groove!”

And the man grooves.

With a dramatic twirl of his twin pistols the man transforms into a force of nature so powerful, you swear all over that he could secretly be a demon king down in Hell. His mission? To come up here to crush the dreams and this power-boosting ritual of demon king wannabes.

Or something. Your mind gets a little carried away.

But he really is a whirlwind of carnage, seeming as though he is fused to his sword and ripping through demons like there was no tomorrow.

Correction: there is no tomorrow. Now for these pathetic pieces of Hell scum. He even laughs at one point after vanquishing all of the Death Scissors you’ve been narrowly avoiding. He drives his sword into the helmet of a Proto Angelo and it shatters with the force. He shoots a barrage of bullets into the Lusachia and it they fall dead before any even had the chance to teleport to safety.

And when he tap danced on the body of his final victim while humming a jovial tune, your jaw actually dropped.

He shoots you a look after the spectacle. “You one of them?”

The guy wasn’t even breaking a sweat.

“Uh…” you look down at your body. Nothing about you screams demon. “No. I’m human.”

The man shakes his head, like he knows you’re lying but doesn’t care enough to let you know that he knows. “Call the cops on this place after you leave, alright sweetheart? Wouldn’t want that poor lady to become another face on a milk carton.”

“Yeah.” You nod. He called me sweetheart. You think dumbly.

It’s— made evident by your immediate thoughts— been ages since you’ve been flirted with, let alone talked to someone who wasn’t Morrison.

The man turns and begins walking away. Before his silhouette disappears into the night, he raises a hand. “Ciao.”

You spot the guy with hair as white as snow again at a crosswalk while walking home a couple nights later.

It goes like this:

You were rightfully restless after your warehouse fail. Your pay from Morrison was still in full, so you had enough to splurge a little on the finer things in life, like restocking the dwindling supply of Budweisers you liked to keep handy in your fridge.

You make your way down to the closest 7-11, which happens to be a five minute walk away from your shitty new apartment.

This area was the type you’d avoid in your old life— sketchy hoodlums loitering in alleyways, the telltale twitches of drug addicts walking by, and the accusing shouts of petty thugs getting into murderous fisticuffs.

You are by no means a pearl-clutching socialite with a plush and stuffed trust fund, but living here as someone who didn’t have the best means of defending themselves… well, it wasn’t a good idea. The people here weren’t significantly more dangerous, but they were a hell of a lot more jumpy than other people you’d pass on the street.

However, after being bit by one of those mangy dogs of the night, you weren’t so scared of meeting the next Ted Bundy while hunting demons.

(Okay. Attempting to hunt demons.)

As Jason Dean in the cult classic movie Heathers once stated, 7-11 is consistent across all American locations and you’re inclined to agree.

Every chain location you’ve been to has looked like a front for a meth lab. Every time you push a 7-11 door open, it feels like the introductory gas station scene in the Resident Evil 2 Remake is being superimposed over your reality.

You avoid a shirtless guy who won’t stop coughing onto the chip rack and make your way to the refrigerated drinks section for your Budweiser. You grab a box of fifteen cans for about twenty dollars and make your way to the front. You flash your impeccably-crafted fake driver’s license from Morrison to the underpaid cashier who doesn’t bat an eye at its legitimacy as you slide thirty dollars over the counter.

You almost tell her: “Keep the change, kid,” but you’re more broke than she is, so you grab the coins she’s pulled from the register.

You step outside the store and walk away from the encampment of cigarette smokers loitering by the entrance so you can place the box on the floor. You wiggle a beer can free, planning on popping it open when you get closer to home and chugging it.

You reach your first crosswalk shortly after this.

This is where you meet the guy with hair like Danny Phantom again. Out of the corner of your eye, you see him notice you, do a little double take, look ahead again, and then get closer.

“This is probably gonna sound real cheesy,” is his opening line, complete with a suave pause. “But you look familiar.”

“Hi,” You reply, feeling your face start to flush a little at the sight of a good-looking dude. Jesus Christ. You were in need of some normal human interactions. “We were in that warehouse on Seventh a couple of days ago.”

“Ah,” the man nodded. “The one where that poor woman was kinda… turned into spaghetti.”

You nod. “That’s the one.”

“Fancy seeing your face again.” He has a flippant lilt to his voice, which makes you want to bury your face into a pillow and start giggling. Thank god it was dark out and he couldn’t see how you were awkwardly biting your bottom lip and thank god both your hands were occupied.

“So, uh… here.” You say in a genius reply, holding out the sweating can of beer meant for yourself.

The guy looks at it in your hand. “Hunh? What for?”

“Well, you, uh, helped me out with that warehouse situation so I figured…” you shrug, the inside of the can sloshing slightly with the motion. “Y’know, it’s certainly the least I could repay you with.”

“Well, thanks,” He reaches for the can and your fingers brush. He shoots you a crooked smile. “I’d love to stick around but I really gotta bounce. I’ll see you around?”

“See you.” You try to echo his coolness with your words, but it feels artificial.

This marks the moment where white hair guy crosses the street away from where you’re going so you march onward, not bothering to look back at him and thinking quite hard about it.

But when you get home, crack open a beer, and begin to watch T.V through your neighbor’s window across the street, you realize you hadn’t asked his name.

[next]

masterlist

#dante x reader #dante sparda x reader #dante sparda #dante #devil may cry #devil may cry x reader #dmc #dmc oneshots #devil may cry oneshots #jd morrison

55 notes · View notes

jazz-miester · 2 years ago

Text

A Taste Of The Divine

Pairing: Optimus Prime x Reader

Reader Type: Gender Neutral Bot

Song: The Summoning- Sleep Token

Warnings: Smut my dude. Valveplug. Bot's bangin'.

An: I could not get this out of my head. Pls. Enjoy. Also adding a read more lol

Tags: @rawmeknockout

There is no greater way of clearing his helm than having them buried between your shaking thighs. The sweetened taste of your transfulid on his glossa as he drug it between your wet folds and wrapped his lips around your poor abused node.

How many times has he brought you to the brink of almost overloading now? Two? Three? He has long since count. Time was lost when he did this. Time he would never regret losing.

Optimus rumbles against you. His frame shaking while he all but devoured you. The heels of your peds smacking against his broad back. One of your servos clutched the fabric of the berth. The other dug into the side of his helm. Pushing and pulling as if you were unable to decide of your wanted more or less of what he was giving you.

He cold feel the crackle of your charge bounce against his frame. A feedback loop of the pleasure that was racking through your frame. A growl left him as you managed to roll your hips from beneath his lips.

One of his servos splayed against your stomach plating. Pressing down on you to keep you from moving further. The other moved away from your thigh and traveled to your valve.

Optimus pulled away with a huff of air. That same servo going to gently spreading you apart. You coated his digits with your fluids.

His vents whirred and huffed heated air. A low rumble emitted from him. He wasn't as unaffected as one would think in this moment. His spike pressed harshly against it's housing. He could feel the fluid bleeding from it. Pooling against the plating.

The sight of you laid out on your shared berth was nothing short of ethereal. The dim lighting of your half lidded optics softened your features. Energon pooled in your faceplate. Your once, so neatly colored lips were open in a soft o. A breath left them. There. Smeared against your faceplates was the same color now on his own. Washed away from when he had made a mess of your valve.

"Please." Optimus caught your optics. His glossa darted out to catch the fluid that had been caught on his lips. His digits ran a loose circles around your puffy node. He could see the proto form beneath your armor jerk and flex with every pass.

"Please what? My dear spark." His normally smooth baritone was raspy. Almost needy. He craved you as much as you did him.

"Your digits. Please." There was a whine in your voice. Desperate. Pleading. You gave another as Optimus made another lazy pass then downwards. Just ghosting over the place you wanted it most.

Your vents hitched. Sputtered. "Optimus Please." He supposed he should. As much as he could look at you like this forever. Undone. Shaking, needing, and yearning for him. Only for him.

His spark would swell at this every time. Filled with so much adoration for you. Of this. The trust that you placed in him to let your guard down like this. Every inch of you bared for him.

Optimus propped a knee onto the berth. The weight of him creaked the metal frame of it. He could hear the cry you gave when his servo left you to grab your thighs. He pulled your legs around his hips.

Transfluid coated your thighs. It smeared across his own wide legs. A curse left his lips at the sight of this. You spread apart before him.

Optimus leaned his frame above you. His helm fitted next to yours. His digits sunk deep within you. Your valve pulled him in greedily.

"Is this what you wanted Dear Spark?" He lazily thrusted his digits in and out of you. He grazed his digits against the nodes that had you calling his name. "Did you want your Prime to overload you with his servos alone." He curled his digits within you.

Optimus pressed his lips against your neck. Pooling energon against your cabling.

"Or did you want my spike in that pretty little valve of yours." Optimus chuckled when a breathy curse left your lips. "Would you like that? Would you like to overload on my spike? The only thing you're able to say is my name when you overload on it?"

His digits left your valve. He wrapped his lips around them. Tasting you as he licked them clean.

Before you could protest Optimus had lifted you up. Rolling onto his back as he placed you on his lap. His spike spilling from its housing and smacking against your back.

Optimus's back pressed against the headboard of the berth. His helm tilted upwards to look at you. His servos traveled up yoursides. Moving to press against your chassis. Thick digits finding the seems in your armor above your spark chamber. He could feel the rapid thrum of your spark.

You chassis opened freely to show your spark. The light was bright. Shining. Optimus's own guiding light in this damned to long war.

Your hips rose as you poised yourself above his spike. The lips of your valved brushing against the tip of it before you sunk downwards. Your helm thrown back from the pleasure of it all.

Optimus kept his servos on your hips. Guiding you until your hips sat flush with his own.

"That's it my spark. Gently now." His voice caught in the end when you rose back up. A slow up and down as you stretched against him.

He pressed a servo against your back as he brought your forward. Letting your spark merge with his own. The feedback was instantaneous.

It was nothing but unfiltered love and want. Of ecstasy and pleasure.

He helped you move against him. Snapping his hips up to meet you with every downward move you made. Rolling your hips every time you met his.

"That's it my spark. Use me as you need. That's it. That's my spark." His frame shook as pleasure racked through him. Everything you felt flooding through him and vis a versa.

Your name was on his lips like a prayer. A chant he sung so that Primus himself may hear. Optimus prayed that he would. Unicron himself would repent if he saw you. Such beauty wrought from pleasure.

The charge you shared filled the room. Crackled and sparked between your frames. Bouncing and arcing between your frames as the pace quickly sped up.

It rose higher and higher. Reaching its peak when you cried his name against his lips.

Optimus swore there was afterlife, no living cycle, better spent than here and down. As you overloaded on his spike. You spark surging and spilling over into his own.

He could pass here and now happily.

There was no moving for the longest time. The two of you trying to cool your heated frames with desperate pulls of air. The two of you calmed with your sparks still pressed together. Sending nothing but love and want back and forwarth. Safety and happiness.

Optimus pressed his lips to your helm. Drawing lazy circles against your back. Tracing the odd and random glyphs of your name. His. Love. Protection.

Truly. This was the closet he could get to tasting the divine. Even with the Matrix in his chest, the only other thing closest to his spark. You. You were the only divine thing he would follow.

#Valveplug #Optimus x Reader #tfp optimus prime #g1 optimus prime #bayverse optimus #tfp optimus x reader #g1 optimus x reader #bayverse optimus x reader #smut #stickyinterfacing #holy fucking shit

948 notes · View notes

karume-everything-else · 9 months ago

Note

Posso solicitar leitora dbs x feminina? O leitor está participando do torneio de poder com o universo 7, e o leitor luta contra Toppo, mas o hakai não tem efeito sobre o leitor já que um de seus poderes é se adaptar a qualquer poder ou situação de combate, fazendo com que o usuário fique preso. s técnica se adapta. tornar-se nulo? como mahoraga, não sei se você assistiu jujutsu kaisen. (Acho que seria engraçada a reação dos deuses e lutadores ao ver o hakai não surtir efeito no leitor)

Can I request dbs x female reader? The Reader is participating in the power as universe 7, and the reader fights against Toppo, but the hakai does not affect the reader as one of its powers adapts to any power or situation of combat, making the user a prisoner. s technique adapts. become-null? Like Mahoraga, I don't know if you watched jujutsu kaisen. (I think it would be funny the reaction of the gods and fighters when seeing the hakai has no effect on the reader)

Oooh~ sounds fun. I haven't seen Jujutsu Kaisen ~I have a bad magpie habit when it comes to falling for fictional men~ but that does sound like the armor from Akame Ga Kill. The proto-suit of armor the main character uses. I am so sorry it has been so long since I received this request... I am just now catching up on the anime and I started with the tournament arc specifically for this request.

You couldn't help but scratch your head at the Saiyan in front of you. Goku usually had bizarre requests but this was a little out there.

"So a multiverse tournament with a grand prize of 10 million Zeni and a wish on some... Super Dragon Balls?" You repeated hesitantly, "That's uh..."

"C'mon [Name]!" Goku clapped his hands together in a half-bowing motion, "We really need your skills for this. It'll a lot of fun too!"

"Why does that not sound promising."

"B-but!" He stepped forward, "This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity! Besides we don't have much time to debate this!"

"You need 10 people, right?" Goku nodded, but you continued before he could cut you off, "So why not ask the others? I'm sure Yamcha, Yajirobe, or Tien would be more than capable of doing this..."

"Oh right!" Goku smacked his fist into his hand, "With Tien on our side, we'd have someone capable of keeping tabs on everyone during the fight!"

"Did you even--?!"

"But that's all the more reason you gotta join us [Name]! We need all the strong fighters we can get on our side. We already figured that Andriod 17, Andriod 18, Krillen, Vegeta, Gohan, Piccolo, and myself would be a good lineup. With you, Tien, and Buu everything will be great!"

Sighing as you waited for the last-minute change, it still stumped you how Goku could be so stubborn about fighting in a battle royal. Even with the lies he was telling, you didn't feel like there was much choice in the matter. If you stepped out at this point that would just leave Roshi to step up. But he didn't seem that ready to fight, despite training when he heard about the 10 million Zeni. Without that incentive, Roshi dropped out.

Looking around at all the people you'd have to team up with, you wondered why you were even here. The ability to fight was never your strongest suit, the only thing you knew was basic techniques. Though maybe Goku was thinking more about how ki blasts and the like just didn't affect you the way it did everyone else. That and being able to adapt to other's fighting skills on the spot.

"Now then!"

Holding hands with Piccolo and Android 17 wasn't much fun, but if this Whis person insisted...

"Grand Minister, Universe 7 is ready for transport."

You vaguely wondered how this light was able to affect you, but then again even Beerus could damage you, the one time you were even around when he was hostile. So it seemed the higher the being, the less your strange abilities mattered. However, looking around at all the other fighters as they appeared.

It left an odd feeling in the pit of your stomach. All you could do was scout as you struggled to remain in this... giant top. You didn't know what else this thing could be called. Like Tien, you'd be keeping an eye on people and trying to remain a sneaky ace in the hole.

But Goku was just his typical ray of sunshine as he tried greeting all the other universes. At least the ones he knew people from anyway. Unlike your colleagues, you were more interested in the layout. One large spire in the middle seemed a bit much, especially if no one could fly.

Even if it did seem retroactively hypocritical given the kinds of fights Goku made exciting were full of him flying around like a lunatic. But maybe it had something to do with the zone you were in. There was merely a void beyond the ring, which made sense as to why they wouldn't allow everyone to fly. With too many people, someone could get lost in the shuffle and fly too far into the void and no one would be any wiser.

For all of Gohan's attempts at rallying the troops, of course Vegeta and Frieza would be as accepting as a brick wall. Not that Gohan's plan wasn't good, it just wasn't going to work with how everyone seemed to fight. He should have known that. Unless he thought the lot of you would attack like bees, slowly picking one or two fighters and batting them around like a volleyball.

Not a bad strategy, if that's what he was going for. Just not a very sustainable one given the... personalities that he was trying to preach to. Not that you had a chance to speak up on that front, the two Zeno seemed to be rather restless. It made some sense, they both acted like little children.

Which only made the matter-of-fact way that Universe 9 was obliterated that much worse...

You stuck close to Gohan, having blasted a flying, bird-like person out mere moments before the annihilation. The way this battle was going left you unable to use your abilities so far... but worse than that was how suddenly a whole universe was just... gone.

All this fighting wasn't... it couldn't...

"[Name], stay focused." Piccolo reached out to you, "The fight isn't over."

"R-right." You swallowed the lump in your throat, "It's just... harrowing to think about."

"I know, but this isn't the time to think about it." Piccolo nodded, "We went into this knowing all this. Don't let it get to you."

Nodding, you glanced around the battlefield. This whole situation was messed up, but at least this whole tournament would give everyone the fairest chance of survival. That's all this was, a fight for survival. Brute force wouldn't win this, that's for sure. To win, you'd need to fight smartly. That meant sticking close to as many of the others as you could.

Nothing could have prepared you for the overwhelming strength and aura emanating from a far-ish corner of the arena. The insanely loud screeching yell from someone, likely the person who was powering up...

Everything from that one point flew outward, churning the battlefield into a ruble-filled wasteland. Only the massive spire in the middle, the instrument ticking down the fight, remained intact. 48 minutes total... barely ten minutes have passed and yet...

Tapping Gohan on the shoulder, you had to stretch to reach a spot that wouldn't get you reflexively decked, "Hey, we're the largest target like this. If we stick together too much longer we could be backed into a corner with no escape."

"You think so?" Gohan's eyes widened as you nodded solemnly, "I guess, I mean with the field looking like this..."

He turned, raising his voice, "Guys! we need to split into smaller groups! Staying close like this won't help. But try to stay close enough to jump in if one of us is in trouble!"

Dashing off toward the center, your mind churned with the observations. Who had what abilities? What strategies were there? You couldn't hover or fly to quickly tell the others, which meant you simply had to trust them to know... or at least to figure out what was going on.

Trapping in your own mind, you didn't see the insectoid being swooping in, drop-kicking you from the left. The pain barely stung as you recovered from the fall quickly. Sizing up your opponent swiftly, you were able to keep up with the close-quarters blows. Several hits just barely skimming your skin, while you gathered energy discretely. Waiting for the right moment to...

A large ball in the palm of your hand, which you dug right into the insectoid's abdomen and flung him several feet away. Changing the match from melee to energy blasts, one which Tien finished for you.

"You okay [Name]?" His tone was lighter than you expected, "You seem distracted."

"Just thinking." You were looking all around, "Trying to make sense of the other's abilities."

"I see. Do try to be careful with that." Tien hesitated for a second, "What all have you gathered? What could you share?"

"Not much. But I wouldn't put it past the other female warriors to use their looks to their advantage. Or to have a more assassin move set."

Nodding, Tien went about his way. You knew so little about your opponents and wondered if you shouldn't attempt to scout more. Lowering your energy output should...

The entire field was called to witness something from Universe 2. You paid a little attention, using the opportunity to size up what was left of the competition. It was a surprisingly hefty number of people left, but that didn't matter much in the grand scheme of things.

You were keeping to the outskirts yourself, but when 17 attacked the three women of Universe 2, mid-transformation at that, he was getting scolded. His line of logic was sound, but even you had to admit it was rude. Honestly the three who wanted to transform were also being rude since they were pulling everything to a grinding halt for this. Acting like this was some sort of musical or something.

But you weren't going to complain too much. This was the perfect opportunity to learn what you needed to survive.

Seconds after hearing that Universe 10 was eliminated, having taken full advantage of the ruble to size up as many individuals as you could; you dodged a massive energy hammer.

The girl wielding it was younger than you, or so you thought. You couldn't tell and frankly, your time would be wasted trying to find out. But you knew how to counter her already. The ability to shape energy into weapons was straight forward, and weapons were easy to turn against their wielder. You backed up, leaping away as best you could, escalating what you threw at this girl would be the best way to defeat her... lure her into thinking she had the upper hand...

"What? Trying to run away?" She sneered, "You and that Goku, your whole Universe is just a bunch of cowards!"

Kicking up the small rocks around your feet, you held your tongue. Talking this out wouldn't make a difference, let them think what they will. Everyone had to survive after all.

It didn't surprise you that she was skilled, trading a mallet for a spear as you kept kicking and throwing increasingly larger rocks at her. Sneakily adding just a little ki behind your strikes. Giving her that false sense of security. You weren't exactly one to talk while fighting, that just wasn't how you were. And yet...

"Oh come on!" She yelled, "Don't tell me this is all you can do!?"

You knew what you could do, what you needed to know. Sending a rock right for head, causing it to swerve last second and strike the back of her knee. Right where she wasn't defending. Increasing the pressure, forcing her into the corner. No longer hurling rocks, but small ki blasts as she struggled to keep up with your speed.

Even as you rushed her, closing the distance for the final blow. Her spear went right through you, her ability having no effect on you whatsoever. Seeing that look of wonder and concern in her eyes as the truth dawned on her.

"Yo-You're some kind of monster!"

"And you're out of bounds."

The impact of your blast sent her flying, tumbling right off the edge. With no hope of being caught by a teammate. Catching your breath for a quick second, you stretched. But your back wasn't the only thing that popped as you tumbled into a dark section of the ring; a section created by the dilapidated state of the arena.

Only half paying any attention to what was coming out of the other woman's mouth, you focused on the small glimmers in the air. This one was an illusionist, there were a couple chinks in her disguising techniques but that was about it. Knowing you'd have to be careful with this one as well, careful not to let on what you knew and what you could do. Careful that you didn't just attack the right one on purpose.

Not that her illusions were even that enticing... trying to tempt you with her ideal man. It did make things slightly easier, planting small sleeper ki blasts as you dodged these projections. Waiting once more for the best time to strike.

Standing completely still, it still looked as if you'd stepped just barely out of the way. Earning a scoff and scolding for getting too cocky while she explained her master plan.

"Wanna see a magic trick?"

The first thing you've said to her this whole time... and it did wonders to catch her off guard.

"What? Are you going to disappear?" She laughed at you, "I already knew that!"

"One of us is..."

Covering your eyes as every particle of ki exploded from beneath your feet, it would make you a target sure. But at least this illusionist was out of the ring. Climbing back up to a wider, flatter surface, your eyes fell on a presumably younger man marching toward you. He seemed pissed, leading you to believe that he was from the same Universe as the two women you'd just knocked out.

"I've always been told not to hit a woman." His eyes were burning, "But I have no choice. Never have I wanted to--"

"You won't be able to lay a scratch on me." You dead-panned, "So you might as well give it all you've got. Because you won't survive otherwise."

As you traded blows, simple punches still hurt you just not as much as they would a normal person. Krillen and Beerus' voices reached you like whispers.

"Don't let your wins go to your head [Name], you're not indestructible."

"Curly, explain what she can even do. I've never seen that fighter before."

"[Name]? Well she uh... she has this weird ability. After she gets hit with or manages tot study a technique enough, she becomes immune to it. It's really risky."

"Oh, I see." You were certain that was Whis, "So in a tournament like this she's likely to be the last one standing."

"What!? How can you be so sure Whis?" Yet, you were right

"Well, unless she were to be killed by a technique, she simply counter or adapt to it correct?"

"Uh yeah... she uh... she's used that to her advantage on too many times. The only thing that seems to work against her is Solar Flare."

Then Beerus' voice nearly shattered your eardrum, "THEN SHE HAD BETTER KEEP HERSELF IN THE RING! DO YOU HEAR ME [NAME]!?"

That noise level blurred your vision for a few seconds too long. Giving this transformed, hulking bird man the upper hand as he slapped you into a wall.

"Oh, so I'm not going to survive this?" He sneered, "You don't see the writing on the wall, do you? You're the one going over the edge."

Barely managing to push away from the wall in time, you swept your leg out. A seemingly wild kick instantly blocked, a very cocky birdman just ready to throw you out.

If it wasn't for the excessive ki blast you'd built up to follow your foot. The two of you going flying in your whirlwind gamble. Toppling over the edge, hanging on by your fingertips as you struggled to hold yourself and the seemingly flightless birdman on your ankle. Firing off ki blasts from the bottom of your foot, you managed to rid yourself of the extra weight. But you were still in danger of falling out of bounds yourself.

Feet frantically looking for something, anything to catch. Reaching out for something, anything as you barely managed to keep yourself balanced on the edge of the ring.

"[NAME]!"

Gritting your teeth and expecting the worst, you were more than prepared to fight from your unfavorable position. This was about survival after all. And yet, the hand helping you up was Goku's. Reminding you how short you really were. Fighting had that weird affect on your senses after all, it was disorienting to say the least.

"Oh thank goodness you were able to hold on that long." Gokus smiled widely, "That was close."

"You're telling me." You smirked warmly, "But at least it won't happen again."

"You say that, but we'll see."

A playful punch to the side and you were back on your way. That would be the closest you got to going over. The next person would have one hellacious fight on their hands...

"Well well well, the weakest link of Universe 7."

That cold sneer from behind you was more than a little telling. Frost had caught you lurking again. Your strategy was always interrupted at the worst times. Especially now that so many of the fighters were reaching the top echelons of their capabilities, you were far from their raw levels.

But strategy would win, you were sure of it

"What's the matter? A mute as well as an easy target?" Frost mocked, "Oh well, looks like I'll just have to toss another human over the edge."

Blocking the sudden attack, you knew better than to say much. Giving away too much would prove to be your downfall... if you even let that happen. But even being able to trade blows with this Frieza look-alike wasn't enough. He kept backing you into obvious corners where all you could do was dodge and hope you could knock him back.

Until Frost got cocky in his own right. Firing a shot at Vegeta while you were hardly dodging an excessive volley of energy blasts.

The more you struggled, the worse things seemed to get. Until Vegeta threw his own blindsided attack, connecting a punch when you could hardly do a thing.

"You really need to be more careful."

"I don't need you telling me that Vegeta. I won't waste your time explaining this, but you need to watch out anyways."

"Save your breath." He scoffed, "Just do your job and stay out of my way."

Watching him leap forward, you sighed. "I highly doubt you'll be able to take him on your own..."

"Well, I'm not about to ask you for your help! Now go find somewhere else to lurk!"

"I'm not offering help." You dashed in front of the haughty prince, "This was my fight first!"

Frost smirked, "So, she knows basic English, eh? No matter, it won't make any difference."

Dodging the rocks flying as Frost's 'secret' support made it's entrance, you focused a large ki blast to the magma covering it's ears. Leaping over the metal brute and finding your footing on a much higher platform.

"Oh, so you knew what I was doing?" Frost was at your throat before you could think, "Shame, you seem to be a strategist and scout. But that ends now!"

Catching Frost's arm as you reflexively leaned back, throwing a weak punch in return. But that was only the first. Knowing how Frost moved was the advantage you needed...

"YOU BUCKET OF BOLTS! YOU'RE A DISGRACE TO FIGHTERS EVERYWHERE!"

Frost stopped first, both of you watching Vegeta shove his robotic opponent over the edge. Your guard hadn't dropped, and yet...

"Well, this won't do." Frost readied a ki blast, one that wasn't meant for you, "I'm afraid that this fight will have to wait. If you ever prove to be worth the effort."

You had no choice but to leap away as Frost's blast hit the ground. The smokescreen giving him a chance to slip away. Landing next to Vegeta, you were about to head off for another fight.

"Listen here [Name]." You turned, Vegeta wasn't about to... "Next time you better not interfere with my fight. I won't let you get in my way again."

Frowning as Vegeta ran off to another battle, "You're welcome Vegeta."

It was time to get serious. No more sneaking, no more getting dragged into fights. You would initiate the next one. And nothing would stop you...

Yet old habits died hard, analyzing the remain fighters, thinking about the swiftly dwindling time, the win conditions. Universe 7 was in the lead for fighters if time ran out, but that would only make you and the others a target. But if you could just...

"Ah ha! You're one of the fighters from Universe 7." You at least had the courtesy of stopping to see who was addressing you this time, "Tell me, how does it feel to be on the same team as that villain Goku?"

Sizing up this guy was straightforward at least. Large, likely fast, and almost certainly a melee brawler.

"Can't say I know what you're talking about." The way he talked, the way he seemed to think he was somehow above morals, "Where I'm from, Goku is considered a hero. Fight-happy, stubborn, single-minded, but not a villain. If you were in our Universe, you'd know what I'm talking about."

"Hmph. I see." He steadied himself for a fight, "I suppose you do have a point, but I have no time for senseless perspective-taking. As much as I'd like to abstain from fighting someone such as yourself, I see no way around this. Please accept the mercy of being thrown out of the ring by the second-strongest fighter of Universe 11."

Sighing as you took a stance, "I'm getting real tired of being pulled into fights and underestimated..."

"Then show me what you're capable of young Miss!"

You barely even whispered that to yourself, so how this guy heard you was beyond you. But now wasn't the time to think too much, you had to fight. Speed wouldn't help you much, there had to be power behind your punches. If it wasn't for the fact that you don't have any fighting abilities besides insane adaptability, you'd be a little more confident. For now...

Keeping your eyes on this large man, you knew he'd be fast but this was a little too fast. Leaping low to the ground, you barely avoided his massive fist. Knowing an attempt to sweep his... oddly tiny legs would be futile. His physique was bizarre and created the biggest challenge. Skidding to a stop a few feet away, you weighed your options.

Staying in melee wouldn't work and building up energy blasts wasn't viable due to how long it would take. Not to mention how ineffective that would prove long-term. Wasting energy wasn't the play here, and it was clear that your opponent thought the same thing.

Jumping every time he threw a punch, landing small blows here and there just to test how far you could push him before cracking; you had little options for actual attacks. Unless he started doing something more than the basics, you were just David fighting Goliath.

"I got cha back Top!"

Flattening yourself to the ground from under the rabbit-looking guy, you already knew what he was capable of. You couldn't counter his raw speed, but you could lay traps well enough if it came to that.

"Don't interfere Dyspo, she might be a good strategist, but she's not much of a fighter." Glaring at your opponent, again with the insults, "I merely need to bide my time until she tires herself out."

"If ya say so Top." Dyspo smirked, "Now that cha mention it, she does look a little scrappy to be in a tournament this long. Must've been sheer luck so far, huh?"

"Don't be so quick to write off a fellow warrior." Top turned to face you, "Especially if they are from Goku's Universe."

No, it was too soon for you to fully unleash. Save a little power for later. Kaioken could only get you so far... But a little spare energy here and there...

Trading punches with the newly identified Top, you put your foot down so to speak. No more dodging until...

"What's that power!?" Top stopped your fist suddenly, letting go quickly, "Has Jiren finally started fighting?"

Following Top more out of curiosity than the will to fight, you could only stare as Goku was assaulting Jiren. Nothing was getting to the massive brute, and yet...

"Justice Hand!"

Top was firing at Goku, you knew it was useless, even his own teammate called Top off. But you continued to study this Jiren figure. The way he took hits meant he was assessing Goku as much as Goku was assessing him with the volley of attacks. It wasn't just raw strength or power that Jiren had, there was something... else. Something you could counter if only he'd...

Ducking, you were surprised as Top leaped to defend you. Moving you out of the way as Goku and Jiren fought across the arena. Following the pair with your eyes, it clicked. Goku wasn't anywhere near Jiren's level. Not like this anyways. His Blue form plus Kaioken was barely able to keep up.

Stepping back, your gaze kept up effortlessly. Tipping off your opponent to your real power.

"You seem to be keeping up with those two rather easily." While Top wasn't trying to fight you right now, every little thing you did was being analyzed fully, "Am I to assume that's your true power? Shame you can't use it effectively. A scouting warrior is best suited with communication devices after all."

"Duck."

Shoving Top aside as you leapt out of the way, bracing for the impact as Goku and Jiren zipped past again, landing back in the middle of the crater they started in. Things weren't looking good for Goku specifically, Jiren barely looked like he expended himself at all. No heavy breathing, no scuff marks, nothing to suggest that he had been fighting at all. It was unnerving to say the least.

"Wait! There's a technique I still have!" Goku powered down, "But I need a minute to charge it up."

Stopping, Jiren relaxed, "Go ahead. Take all the time you need."

Not this starfish pose... You pinched the bridge of your nose, groaning.

"You're familiar with this attack?" Top wasn't nearly as hostile as he first insinuated, "What does it do?"

"You'll see. Goku is literally about to announce it." You huffed, "As if the people who know don't already..."

"Everyone! I need all the energy you can spare!" Goku yelled, "C'mon guys! Give me your energy to finish this fight!"

"That..." Top stepped back, raising his arm as if a barrier, "That can't be his plan..."

"Yep." You sighed, raising an arm to give as much energy as you could pull from the arena beneath you, "And it may not even work but... Better to try and fail than not try at all."

Knowing that Top was staring, hearing the grunt as he smirked, "Yes, that I can whole-heartedly agree with."

The tension was thick as Goku charged his Spirit Ball. That amount of energy would absolutely pose a threat to anyone who tried to take it head-on. Jiren knew this, pushing the sphere away from himself. Why did it always become a shoving match again? You couldn't even begin to count how many times this happened.

So when Goku was the one caught in the explosion, you couldn't believe it. The numb feeling washing over you was a distant memory as you jumped in to look for your comrade. Knowing that if Goku had died, or was vaporized, it would be his own fault. He fell on his own sword after all.

Even facing Jiren wasn't as bad as possibly losing the best chance at your survival. If Goku went down, only Vegeta and Freiza would be able to fight completely unhindered. The rest of your team would be disheartened, desperate, and fighting in that state wasn't going to help anyone. At least, you thought the rest of your team would be... 17 and 18 were difficult to read.

Your fighting stance against Jiren, guarding where Goku was, had been cut short. The immense power level radiating behind you had you frozen in place. Dropping your guard just to check that you were right...

"I appreciate the attempt [Name]." Goku sounded so different, what was this? "But you'll be in my way. Nothing personal, I just want to face Jiren alone."

"Right."

Jumping back up to the edge of the crater, you could only watch alongside everyone else. Sizing Jiren up as best you could from a distance. Goku's new form wouldn't last long, it was too much power for a first attempt. But what would happen after it fizzled out? Would Goku even survive that?

Sadly, it didn't take long for that to happen. Goku fell, almost completely worn out from the abundance of power. Looking to where Top was standing, further than was wise to seek out another fight; it would be wiser to regroup and strategize again. With all that you knew, the rest of you could corner Jiren and...

Before you could finish your thought, Hit from Universe 6 stepped in to fight Jiren. Knowing what little you did about the assassin, it seemed ill-matching. Jiren knew about the time skipping, and would be more than capable of countering that.

Even so, it was terribly shocking to see how Hit was ineffective, being knocked out of bounds as soon as Jiren was free from the time prison. And yet, despite your willingness to fight Jiren on Goku's behalf not even five minutes ago, he decided that you weren't worth his time. That everyone who could have challenged him was unable to.

Glaring at his meditating form, you jumped. Sensing Freiza close to Goku. Whatever else Freiza might be, trustworthy wasn't one of them. Holding a steady energy ball to his back as he stood over Goku, a similar yet unidentified energy ball in his palm, you knew he wouldn't be able to fight you the way he would others. And Frieza knew this, lowering his hand, just not dispersing the energy.

"I wouldn't dream of attacking this simpering monkey at the moment." Freiza grinned over his shoulder at you, "So you can put that away little girl."

Your eyes never left Frieza's face as the match of wills amid teammates continued. Backing down in this unknown situation, with Goku so weakened...

"Whoops!" Frieza both shot Goku and clutched your wrist, causing you to misfire, "My hand slipped. How clumsy of me."

Goku's cry of pain was short lived, short enough that you didn't have a chance to pay Frieza back for his dirty trick.

"There, see?" He cooed, "The ape is all better. Or, at least as much as I could... scraping the tiniest bit of energy I could spare for him anyways. But you;ll have to watch your back girl. I won't let you go so easily if you stand in my way again."

Rubbing your wrist and glowering at Frieza as he retreated, you knelt next to Goku.

"How are you holding up?" You knew a little about medical energy usage, "Here, let me--"

"Save your energy [Name]. You'll need it to survive the rest of the tournament. Besides, you still have an unfinished match against Top, right?"

"I don't track of those things." You shook Goku's concern off, "Besides, I have energy to spare. One of the good things about extreme adaptability is the constant flow of energy as long as I'm on solid ground."

It was nice to hear Goku chuckle again, "Yeah, surprising that it works when we aren't on Earth. Or is it just any body of land?"

"Any body of land, just nothing man-made. Odd since I know this place was technically man-made... maybe it's just because it was made by a god... er angel."

"Yeah, that sounds about right."

Stepping back so Goku could stand, you looked around, "So, what next? We have the most people available, you can't reach that Ultimate mode again without serious injury, and knocking too many people out spells their erasure."

"I have no clue." Goku frowned, "Thinking isn't exactly my strong suit. The best I can say is try to keep things the way they are. If we have the most people then... we will be the biggest targets huh?"

"Basically, though with you being like this makes you the prime target... just behind..."

You couldn't will yourself to state the obvious. Of course you'd be the weakest left on the field after all this time. Half the tournament has passed and you still stood here. Krillen and Tien were stuck in the stands due to careless error and noble sacrifice and here you were just...

"Just behind who?" Goku tilted his head, "Frieza? Vegeta? They're both pretty strong. Or maybe its 17 and 18... They really don't have many fans in this ring."

"I'm the weak link!" You grit your teeth, "I'm the weakest left on the field so the two of us are the ones they want to gun for."

"Hanh!? You!? Weak? But you're..."

"I have been scraping by the skin of my teeth since you pulled me up. Maybe I should have..."

"No, you're right where you need to be [Name]. There's still a lot of fighters left and you can beat all of them! So don't go thinking like that. Okay? You almost had Top earlier... I could feel it. You just have to push past your limits and let loose."

Watching as Goku turned to the Saiyan girls from Universe 6, you couldn't help but feel that he was only saying something to say it. What little you could do to compete now was...

"Get out of my way Kakkarot." Vegeta sneered, snapping you out of your trance, "These two are mine."

"What!? No way Vegeta! You got to teach Cabba! Kale and Califa are learning from me!"

Knowing better than to get between Saiyans when they want to fight, you took off. They would need all the space they could get after all, and you still had some fight left in you.

"You still have an unfinished fight against Top, right?"

That was at least a starting point. But would it really help?

Time was running out fast and while fighting kept the Zenos entertained, it wasn't as if that was difficult. Big explosions and grand speeches seemed to do the trick. But... you still felt like you had a score to settle... something to prove. To yourself, to the others, and you would start by proving it to

Top.

Leaping off the tall rock, intending to strike Top in the middle of his back; you were intercepted by his rabbit-like companion. Toppling off to one side, rolling for a second before steadying yourself on one knee.

"Thought you was gonna get the jump on Top, huh?" Dyspo sneered, "Well you ain't gettin' anywhere with dirty tactics like that!"

"That's fine." You stood, preparing to fight Dyspo instead, "I didn't expect that to work regardless if he had back up or not."

"Heh, smart girlie." Dyspo smirked, "But it won't be enough when you face true justice!"

Rolling your eyes, you focused on what you knew. Speed was his strong suit, his strength would be more momentum than raw strength, meaning if you just...

Blocking the worst of the kick and skidding back several feet, you latched onto Dyspo's ankle. If you could either get a grip, or trap him in some way... keep him immobile long enough to wear him down.

Or you could use him like a club.

Doubling your grip with both hands on his leg, you lifted the lean rabbit warrior up, much to his surprise. Before you could turn and slam him on the ground, Top was rushing in. Well, better to use this to your advantage.

Swinging Dsypo in a wide arc, you slammed him into Top with as much strength as you could. Knocking the bulky man off his feet as you kept spinning on your heels. Enduring Dyspo's desperate kicks to your hands. Kicks that were having less and less effect on you as you concentrated ki into gauntlets over your lower arms. Even as he tried to match your energy output, it failed to faze you.

Finally stopping, slamming Dyspo on the ground with enough force to create a small dent in the ground. But you didn't let go of his leg, instead dragging him around to swing at Top as he approached again. Another hefty swing of ally against ally, despite Top catching Dyspo this time... it still hit with enough force that gave you enough of an opening to drop the lucky rabbit's foot and land a powerful blow to Top's jaw.

Watching them both stagger back, you knew backing Top specifically into a corner too soon wouldn't be good for you. Dyspo in particular looked worse for your attack, but both men needed to get their bearings.

"And here I thought you were an honorable warrior," Top sounded disappointed, "But to pull such a dirty-!"

"Don't act like you know me." You spat, "I'm a strategist who played the game. Your buddy is a speedster so any chance to get him off his feet is the best chance I have at beating him."

Top paused, glaring at you. He couldn't deny what you were saying, it was a strategy he had warned Dyspo of himself. If it wasn't for the sheer power radiating from the other side of the field...

"Now what in the world is that?" Dyspo shook his head, "Another surge in power so soon?"

"Goku... don't..." You groaned, "Why are Saiyans like this?"

Before they could launch an attack, Jiren stood up from his meditation.

"It's time to retreat." He commanded, "Wait and save our strength for the final matches."

"Yeah but--!"

Jiren was sizing you up under a cold gaze, "She's run her course Dyspo. There's no use in continuing to fight someone like that. Take this act of mercy and throw yourself out for all I care. Just don't follow if you know what's good for you."

Breathing returned as you relaxed your form. You knew you couldn't stand against Jiren very long. His strategy and yours were too similar. But you had to fight Top... you had to prove...

Dodging out of the way of two rampaging Saiyans, you had to find a spot to lay low. There were still too many opponents on the field. It was all you could do to help run down the clock, not that you had much to give.

But you were among the last six standing. Six versus three. You had a score to settle and nothing was going to stop you. Not even the power struggle of wills from Goku and Jiren. With your sights set on Top, you were rudely cut off by Gohan and 17, mostly Gohan.

"I know how this looks, how much you don't want to [Name]," Gohan said, "But you should go help Frieza with Dyspo."

"Fine."

Against your better judgment and desire, you went after Dyspo. Frieza wouldn't be happy with this, but as long as you could get a couple others out of the ring... Anything to keep Frieza from getting a wish to be honest.

Just hanging back and letting whatever happened happen. Having Freiza drug around by the tail and used like a club was funny after all. Even if it didn't work all that much.

"You're just enjoying this aren't you [Name]?" Count on Freiza to give up your hiding spot, "No doubt awaiting the precise moment that you can be the one to defeat me as well."

"Huh?" Dyspo was dumbfounded and ready to run, "You mean this... That's your great play?"

"Not really." You shook your head, "I don't play well with tyrants, even if we are on the same team."

"No wonder you're not fazed being swung around like a bat." Dsypo smirked, "Too bad you won't get that chance again."

"My my, it sure is a shame that he is only capable of running, isn't it?" Both of you watched him zip off, "If only you had hung back a little longer, you might have gotten your big chance [Name]. Not that I would have gone down so easily of course."

"Naturally. Though I have a score to settle myself. Don't get in my way."

"Oh hoh hoh! Do tell."

"Not on your life."

Even as you walked alongside the scourge of your own Universe, your thoughts stressed over your desire to fight Top. He and his team had ignored you long enough.

"Oh well, just leave Dyspo to me then. And do tell the half-Saiyan and Android to stay out of my way."

Heading off to where Top's energy was radiating, you were met with Gohan.

"Freiza is being stubborn with Dyspo. I am going to fight Top." You started, "I ask that neither of you interferes unless absolutely necessary."

"Are... are you sure?" Gohan asked, "You do know--"

"I fought Top earlier, I'm aware what he can do."

"If you insist." 17 raised his arms, "But I will jump in at my best judgment."

"That's what I'm counting on."

"Freiza! Look out! Behind you!"

Turning to where the yell was directed, the three of you hesitated for a moment.

"I knew you should have stayed with Freiza." Gohan growled a little, "Now what?"

"You go." 17 said, "But first, you said you've fought Top [Name]. What do you know about his allies?"

"Dyspo is a speedster. Keep him from controlling his movements and you'll be able to take him out."

"Alright then." Gohan nodded, "You two take care of Top then."

Leaping from where you had stayed hidden, you were met with a volley of energy blasts from Top.

"Oh, if it isn't the strategist from Universe 7, we meet again."

"Don't sound so surprised." You glared, "I'm not just a strategist. I'm the one who counters ALL!"

Rushing in for a melee assault, one you knew that wouldn't work, you hit a green barrier.

"17! What the hell!?" You shouted, "This is my fight!"

"Don't tell me you can't sense it." He answered, "Freiza won't be as easy going as the rest of us. And Gohan was knocked out with that Dyspo guy. You hang back for a minute and let me take care of this."

Shaking with fury as you clenched your fist, you retreated. 17 firing an endless volley of blasts. Kneeling to absorb all the energy you could muster, knowing you would need every ounce. Especially as you watched the beams between Top and 17 collide, staying just beyond the area of effect.

Even with Freiza taking potshots at Top's back, you knew something was coming. The explosion was incredible, with Top undergoing a transformation... one with too much power behind i--

"Wait a second..." Actually listening to the chatter of the stands, you knew how to counter him, "That's it."

Waiting for your opening was easy enough, as Freiza threw his desperate attempt at Top. Being knocked out as soon as Top was up, and thrown over the edge.

"Now!"

Your punch landed, but only just.

"Hah!? What are you doing [Name]! Get out of there! Don't go into a melee match!"

"Wait, she didn't... don't tell me."

"No... she..."

"SHE CAN'T BE SERIOUS!?"

"Wait a second..." Gohan yelled amid all the confusion, "[Name] isn't affected by power ups at all. She can't just see through them, she can counter them completely if she can get close enough."

"WHAT!?"

"You mean to tell me that one little human has been winning through immunity alone?"

Trading blows with Top had its own odd effect on you. Each strike barely hurt, but the energy you were absorbing was pure destruction. Even if you knew why, it made for a weird feeling. You've never actually absorbed pure destruction like this.

"I see you do have a weird ability." Top growled, "How quaint for the scout from the 7th."

"And you've been hiding your true power. Which is what my job as a scout was all about." You glared in return, "So either fight me or step out now. Because I'm not going to back down!"

Pushing the energy you'd absorbed out like a barrier of your own, you made every effort to dodge the blows you could. Turning someone's weapon against them was never an easy feat, but as your attacks got stronger, Top's grew weaker. Punch for punch, kick for kick, Top wasn't even attempting a grapple this time. You were able to root yourself or else fight back whenever he made a pass to toss you aside.

"Standing up to a destroyer god for this long is commendable, but this has been going on long enough. Leave this ring of ruble or else I might not be able to hold back from pure destruction!"

"Shut up!"

Decking Top in the face, you didn't let up. Blow for blow with no opening for him to charge a single move. He couldn't even escape with how much faster you'd begun moving. The destruction energy, the energy of the ground, you could only hope to finish this fight soon.

"I am getting tired of this." Top had you by the foot, throwing you aside like a ragdoll, "You cannot survive this, unless you dodge. Hakai!"

Standing up as the massive purple sphere of energy touched you, this was absolutely pure destruction. And it unlocked the rage you'd been keeping in check for so long.

That first punch felt too good, especially as the stands erupted in chatter. Wondering how far you could feasibly take your ability, and being far more resilient for it. And yet... you knew that this was as far as you could go...

"If I'm going down, I'm taking you with me!"

Bull rushing with every punch, the whole length of the arena... until you felt the ground leaving from under your feet. You knew this would be the last thing you did.

Appearing in the stands, you felt like collapsing. Every fiber of your being shook as you struggled to keep your eyes open.

"I... I--"

"Hey, easy [Name]." Gohan pulled you against his shoulder to keep you from falling to the floor, "Breathe, here. Have a Sensu."

"That... you really are something [Name]." Krillen sighed, "Just being able to stand toe-to-toe like that for so long."

"How in the world did you know you could take that kind of energy?" Beerus asked, "That level of Destroyer energy, even if new and weaker... you shouldn't have been able to shake that off after one time."

"I've always been able to do this." You shrugged as you stretched, "Absorbing energy and being immune to specific types of power ups are why Goku brought me into this crazy tournament."

The unsettling quiet and whispers of the power you had were quickly broken up as Jiren powered up. The tournament was far from over after all...

#dragon ball z x reader #dragon ball super x reader #x reader #< ?#dbz fandom #ask #anon ask #tournament of power #dbz super #dbz #dragon ball super

66 notes · View notes

anamelessfool · 5 months ago

Text

Psychedelic Solstice Season Playlist🐐

Happy Solstice! I made a playlist for a card exchange, inspired by my art and my love for psych-rock, dark folk, proto-metal of the late 60s. (Course I added the brand new song!)

Link to Spotify Here

I'm including a link to my Young Nihil x F! Reader Fic to go along with your fuzzy guitars

Young Nihil x F! Reader 18+ MDNI (Link here)

Tags: Recreational Drug Use, Making Out, Music Festivals, Is he in a cult?, more tags on AO3

1970 Nihil was one of these friends of friends of friends. Some forty-something cat who lived further up in the mountains, in what you suspected was some sort of commune. Shit like that was pretty common around here. The higher up in the mountains, the weirder folks got. Could be the altitude.

Blessed to have you along for the ride. What a long strange trip it's been.....

#young nihil #papa nihil x reader #ghost fandom #fic playlist #the band ghost #papa nihil #my art #the future is a foreign land

33 notes · View notes

firesofdainix · 4 months ago

Note

spacetime continuum is such a cool concept! how did you even create the idea? and did you expect it to grow this much? Asking because I love it, back when you first started publishing them i checked the fwndom tag every day hoping youd uploaded a new one •-• its still my favorite series of fics in this fandom

Thank you so much for reading my stories! I admit I never quite expected people to love them much less be inspired, but here we are! March me would be so happy hearing this! So, there are three things that made me inspired to write Spacetime Continuum:

1. Broken AU and its impact in the Solarballs community, such as the Earth favoritism and evil Gas Giants

2. Earth's character being watered down to an innocent planet void of nothing wrong, which frustrates me greatly

3. The Ice Giants playing at most two roles in the Solarballs universes I had seen that time: being non existent, or being victims of the gas Giants.

For more information of the origins of this AU, click read more:

I mentioned that one of the biggest reasons I created this universe was because I had yet to see an AU where the Ice Giants are just as bad as the Gas Giants, and that they go with what the Gas Giants have for them without any coercion. Uranus' personality had been the very first thing I started writing and thinking about, hence my second work for Solarballs being about Uranus, when the paint dries. He was funny to flesh out, from being the insecure planet he is today to the prideful, boisterous and hot tempered character he'd been in the Proto Era. Jupiter and Saturn were the next to follow different tweaks of their character in canon, because my goal had been turning them into complicated and morally ambiguous characters. The Ice Giants are in POWER, IN CONTROL of their horrible actions (though you can make a case for Neptune being manipulated by Uranus, but it's clear he had no qualms killing the other giants and wiping out smaller bodies) in my universe, especially during the war for the position of Celestial Monarch.

The War had already been an integral part of the story, and it was mentioned in my first, now non-canon fic "Mars, god of war" along with hypothetical planets Antichton and Phaeton, plus their relationships with Venus and Mars. But during that, I didn't know what the war had been about, all I know is that Jupiter, Uranus and Neptune were all allies (to also combat the common fanon that Uranus is afraid of Jupiter) and their enemies are Saturn and Planet X. The character of Hades was born, and this drove me to write and flesh out the aforementioned Uranus fic linked earlier, with the earliest mentions of Jupiter accidentally killing Hades, and the animosity between Saturn and Jupiter/Uranus. I didn't expect myself to see the romantic tension between Jupiter and Uranus until now, so that was my fault LMAO

Since this is a series, and not a multi chapter fic, I didn't have to commit to a linear narrative and begin writing one shots about my universe, expanding the characters and the world revolving around the planets. My third fic I've uploaded was about Titan, aka "Saturn's moons hanging by a thread," and the two fics after it about the moons and how the elder Moons were affected by the war. It was an excuse to give the readers more details and clues about what happened before I immediately hit them with the Truth, which is why Saturn merely admonished his moons' actions against Titan in "moon eater." To set up Clues about WHY Jupiter killed Hades in the first place, but making it clear that the story Saturn told IS NOT the whole thing, as we see in "history is a story told by the winners of the fight," there were other factors at play, along with Uranus's ambitious motives (it'll be seen in a fic I'm uploading tonight!) it exposes Jupiter's mental stability and Hades's abuse towards his own older brother that drove him to kill him, even accidentally. And you have to take note this fic was written AFTER plot heavy and clue filled fics such as "after the battle," where Jupiter is written as a megalomaniac that finally got what he wanted; "you didn't know?" Where we are seeing the new personality of Jupiter, and the Ganymede fic, where Jupiter's actions are INEXCUSABLE and shitty. It's fun to see readers puzzling over what the hell happened in the last billion years.

However, since the series is built upon ideas that have taken a long time to consider and new ideas keep popping up, there are times when older fics contradict my new ones, such as changing Earth and Tierra from being the same person to different entities. But I hopefully usually keep my ideas and message consistent. I love having the creativity and using a show about talking planets as my muse and a sandbox for the different kinds of characters and themes which usually play out in the story. I know broken AU gets a whole lot of flack for being the main reason why Earth, Jupiter and Saturn's characters became damaged, but honestly I saw it as an opportunity. A way to integrate the "evil" gas Giants into my AU.

My goal is to keep everyone consistent, well-rounded, and having a defining set of goals and characteristics, including those who are used to drive the story or a character forward, such as Hades, Vulcan, Theia, Antichton and Phaeton, who already have SOME established depth to them other than being the partners of existing planets. I mean... Have you guys READ Antichton in "the consequences of our actions"? He was a bastard, as well-meaning POS who thought he was doing the best. And Hades, aka the planet I created to give Jupiter a character arc, only serving as a plot device? He STILL continues to haunt the narrative. He continues to make Jupiter uncomfortable at the mere mention of him. His murder is seen as Jupiter's power play and not retaliation. That's where I've been going.

Writing the characters who are alive with complex characteristics is something I enjoyed. I enjoyed writing Earth being an unapologetic, arrogant, insensitive asshole who gets on the nerves of other rocky planets. I enjoy writing Saturn as an unrepentant, vain, and self-centered planet who can't apologize without sounding like he forced it. I love writing Sun and how his favoritism, his greenhorn nature when he's been given his system led to the downfall of the solar system and cast permanent wounds to his Giants. And I enjoy writing Planet X, Tyche, Nemesis and Iris, who are up to no good.

The main themes or lessons in my series are as follows:

1. There is more sides to a story than what is given.

2. No one is right. No one is wrong. It all depends on what you're fighting for and the beliefs you have.

3. You need to learn responsibility. You are a born leader, use your talent to the utmost power. Don't play favorites, and discipline them when they go too far.

4. Revenge is a fickle thing: will it make you feel satisfied, or will it just fill your empty heart with negativity?

5. Immortality is sacred. One wrong move against those you love the most and you'll be dead.

6. Favoritism kills.

And a whole lot more I'm not getting into because they'd be spoilers, or they're not fully fleshed out as ideas yet! Thank you for enjoying spacetime continuum, and I hope to upload something about it soon! (Tonight lmao). I... Didn't think thisd get long but IT DID

#chel babbles #solarballs #chel answers #spacetime continuum au #holy shit i wrote an entire essay 😭#but ive been WAITING for someone to ask me this question!!!

26 notes · View notes

that-gay-guy-from-hell · 1 year ago

Text

I've Got You: Dante x G/N Reader

SUMMARY:

Dante and you are on a job where something happens; something that scares Dante.

BEGINNING NOTES: Protective Dante x Quarter-devil G/N Reader Unestablished relationship 🩹🩹🩹 The reader works at the DMC as a demon hunter Quarter devil = A situation like Nero, second gen. hybrid. You can heal like Nero does--much slower than the twins. The reader uses Gilgamesh Another semi-short story: Not fully proofread, will check later just wanted to post this now lol

A slowly slipping sun on the horizon gave the current gory situation a sickly divine glow. The cause of such bloodshed? Dante and you--both hard at work. While you worked, your face in particular had curled up into a devilish wide wicked grin; the madness of which only being further accented the furious insatiable appetite for violence that had consumed each one of your moves The reason for this uncharacteristic ferocious attitude was simple, you were drop-dead tired. This exhaustion was intense enough that it had swung all the way around back to you feeling rejuvenated and invigorated. A large spray of crimson carnage shot upward toward you, decorating your face and chest, as you used Gilgamesh’s boots to curb-stomp a Proto Angelo.

All the while, your red devil partner was cracking random jokes and making quippy remarks, as per usual; however, he couldn’t help but focus on your oddly sadistic behavior. Which, to his surprise--and slight horror--he found extremely arousing.

The way the sunset illuminated all the blood that sprayed up from each of your kills, how your body bent and contorted in just the right way, that unfamiliar dark smirk; all of it combined into a perfectly seductive bloody waltz. After ripping the throat out of a Hell Jeducca, you wiped some of the accumulated blood from your face. That’s when you noticed Dante’s stare, turning your smile from violent to loving as you waved happily; which evidently was too much of a distraction for the red devil. In a split second, a Fury that he’d been fighting managed to slice the side of Dante’s neck open and a large red spray came from the gouged-out flesh.

Dante let out a hissing grunt through gritted teeth and took a deep calming breath, turning to the large demon. As the pair circled one another waiting for the other to strike, both Dante and the demon were caught off guard by you shoving Gilgamesh’s gauntlets right through the Fury’s spine and out it’s stomach.

Dante’s heart skipped a beat as he stared; a part of him was fearfully concerned about your rash action but another part of him was amused by it--in more ways than one.

With an irritated grunt, you shook the corpse from your forearm, dropping it to the ground. Your breathing was ragged and you were standing staring down at the demon’s corpse; reeling at the fact that your stupid impulsive action worked.

After a short pause, you sighed in relief at a brief moment of peace and stretched your arms up, cracking your shoulders. As you stared at Dante, you felt an odd nervousness take over your body. He looked hot normally but with the way his hair was disheveled and stuck to his brow from the demon blood that coated the majority of him, it made him look both terrifying and tempting. He smiled at you through his heavy breaths, winking at you, and had his hands resting on his hips. It was then that you noticed his neck wound.

Taking care not to trip, you made your way over to the ragged man. Gingerly, you placed a hand over the torn flesh as a sad look crept into your eyes, Dante's eyes trained on you the entire time.

A small frown tugged at your face, “You alright?”

The youngest son of Sparda smiled and set his hand over yours; or rather, over the demonic gauntlet you had on, “Eh,” he shrugged, “I’ll live. What about you? You feelin’ alright?”

A surprised huff left your lips as you titled your head with a raised brow, confused as to why he was asking you.

With a faint hint of concern, Dante began to mindlessly thumb over your arm, “Your fighting style is a little more uh… brutal than normal, you can take a break. I can take care of the rest--we’re almost done anyways.”

You smiled softly as you began to slowly thumb over his neck, speaking in a smooth gentle voice, “I’m fine, Dante. Don’t worry about me.”

“It’s my job to worry about you,” he smiled warmly, “You’re my partner after all.”

With a bright closed-eye laugh, you gently punched his chest with your free hand. However, when you opened your eyes, you slowly stopped laughing. His eyes were trained fully on yours and they were half-lidded, filled with an oddly caring feeling. Bit by bit, the two of you leaned closer and placed your noses right beside one another--

A sudden intense pain shot through your middle as you pulled back from him, pushing him away. It seems Dante felt it too as he reacted the same way; however, when he looked down, he realized he was just barely nicked by the tip of the blade.

You had taken the brunt of the blow.

With shaking hands, you looked down at your middle and saw the sword that had pierced you before it was harshly yanked back out of you, leaving a gaping hole in its wake--allowing you to see much more of your insides than anyone probably ever should.

“Dante..?” You looked up at him with an almost confused stare before stumbling forwards.

“It’s okay,” he caught you as you fell and your hand had vice gripped around his arm, digging your gauntlets into his coat and bicep as he laid you onto the ground, “I’ve got you- I’ve got you.”

His eyes met with yours as you let go of him. As he stared into your eyes, an intense wave of emotions overcame Dante--it was a toxic combination of fear and anger, a pairing that only leads to one result.

In an instant, Dante he was in his Sin Devil Trigger. The first thing he did was shred a Gladius--the one that had speared you--into tiny insurmountable pieces. Then his attention was on the rest of the newly formed horde. To say that Dante is feral when in his Sin Trigger would be ludicrously underselling it. He’s only supposed to even consider using it when in a completely sound and stable mindset--the furthest thing from what his mind is like right now. All that was in his head was he wanted to protect you-- he needed to protect you, from anything and everything that might hurt you. It didn’t take long for him to have the demons killed off which then he should’ve returned to your side, allowing him to calm down and de-Trigger, but something else caught his eye.

The two of you hadn’t been alone when you started this mission; no, in fact, you had two other hunters that had gone through the opposite side and finally had reconvened with you both in the middle of the nest.

Vergil and Nero.

The father-son duo stood dumbfounded for a moment. Although Vergil was far from afraid of his brother’s devil forms, this was one of the very finite times that Vergil had seen Dante use it outside of their time in Hell. Whereas Nero could count on one hand how many times he’d seen his uncle like this; rendering him completely clueless of the amount of danger he, and Vergil, were truly in.

Nero smiled with a shake of his head, walking towards the rumbling red devil, “What? You two get your asses kicked that bad?”

Instantaneously, Dante was in front of Nero. Before the young hunter could even process what happened, Dante shot up in the air and dropped straight down. A large bright explosion emanated from the devil’s actions, which then decorated the area with bright sparsely placed hellfire. With a snarl, the red devil stood back up and expected the “threat” to be gone; however, it wasn’t--at least not in the way he expected. A faint smell of demonic magic in the air as Dante surveyed what happened.

He turned to the side and saw, a now Sin Devil Triggered, Vergil, holding Nero tightly to his chest. The two of them locked eyes and both flared out their wings, letting out a low growl the entire time; sizing each other up. Vergil, however, was quickly preoccupied by a pissed-off Nero complaining about how Vergil is squishing him “--to death”.

Dante noticed Vergil’s distraction and took a step toward them.

Seeing what was going on, you decided to intervene; even if it made you want to gouge out your own throat in pain, “Dante..?”

The red devil’s attention was immediately upon you and he was by your side, frantic at your still injured state.

Gently and carefully you placed a hand on his cheek, thumbing over the plate that created the underside of his eye and his cheek; doing your best not to cut or burn yourself, “They’re not going to hurt you or me; everything’s alright.”

Dante made a small chirping purr as he leaned into your touch before picking you up, careful as to not agitate your wounds. It was unclear just how far he had taken you but it was far enough away that the weather had changed completely becoming cold and rainy. There was no cityscape or demons in sight, just forest for miles around.

Perhaps if Dante hadn’t been in such an intimidating form, you may have considered this to be a date. Being out in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by nothing but forest as far as the eye could see; it was breathtaking.

Dante set you down, gently bunting his head against you before standing up. He was scanning the area, listening and looking for anything moving or anything that might even so much as think about harming you.

“Dante?” You reached up for his hand, grabbing one of his claws.

The red devil turned to you in a panicked manner, thinking that something was wrong.

“Sit with me?” Your voice was soft, trying to calm him down, “Please?”

Although hesitant, Dante did as you asked with a small grumbled huff and sat beside you.

With a small grunt, you stood up and saw that he was going to as well, “Stay.” He growled in slight agitation, so you quickly tacked on a “please” to your request.

Very carefully, you sat sideways between his legs, doing your best to keep yourself from getting stabbed by his thigh spikes. Bit by bit, you leaned your head against him and a loud purr began to emanate from deep within Dante’s chest as he wrapped his arm around your lower back. You had the other hand in yours, using both your hands to hold it and play with it slightly. In your time working with Dante, you’d only seen this form once and it had been due to a similar situation where you’d been hurt.

“You know, you might look scary when you’re like this but,” you looked up at him, meeting his gaze, “you really aren’t much different than you are normally,” You adjusted your head a bit and let out a small laugh at him putting his wings around the both of you, “Okay, maybe just a little more protective.”

A small rumble came from deep inside his chest, laughing at your words. Even though he knew that you were going to be fine, that you would heal just like everyone else, Dante couldn’t help but worry about you.

“I love you; you know that Dante?” you smiled at the sound of his purring grow tenfold louder, “I thought so,” with a laugh you placed a small kiss on his middle, “When you are back to human we can finish that kiss, okay?”

He chuffed at you, eager to be able to kiss you.

With how hot it was within his grasp and the noise from both the rain and his purring, you couldn’t help but fall asleep. As you slept, Dante had managed to slide back down into his regular Trigger and then to human once more. A small content smile tugged at his lips, although your shirt was totaled, you were just fine. Without disturbing you too much he took off his jacket, wrapped it around you, and pulled you closer to his chest--setting you properly on his lap.

Dante closed his eyes as he held you tightly and, with a voice as soft as silk, he whispered against the top of your head, “I love you too, darling,” he placed a soft kiss atop your head, “So very much.”

Sorry for the typos (and apparently unsaved/half-done paragraph?? Not sure what happened but I tried to fill in what I thought was supposed to be there *Google Docs didn't save it for some reason smh*), they should be fixed now lmao

Want to see more like this? Want to read my work quicker and several stories that are not on Tumblr? Check this out on my AO3 (Linked here)

MASTER LIST FOR TUMBLR

#devil may cry #devil may cry 5 #dmc #dante #dante devil may cry #devil may cry dante #dante x reader #dante x G/N reader #Dante x male reader #dante x female reader #dante x you #Sin Devil Trigger #Sin devil trigger Dante #overprotective Dante #short #oneshot #reposted from my AO3

126 notes · View notes

newx-menfan · 3 months ago

Text

Thoughts on Cerebro Podcast:

Readers paying attention to nothing except X-Men is kind of brutally true 😂🤣 (I do read other comics…but X-Men is the only book I consistently read…)

Apparently one of the writers cats is very vicious! (I think it’s Jackson’s )🙀😾😹

Was kind of apprehensive when the podcaster mentioned not being a fan of NYX or NXM:AX- NYX I at least get…but I kind of am surprised they weren’t a big fan of NXM…honestly this is the same problem with “Xavier Files” for me; they write it off as “gimmicky” or “commercialization” or “a Harry Potter knockoff”, instead of admitting that NXM really was a great predecessor of Gen X and NM and fit really well with what Morrison had developed. I would say NXM was the only x-book that ever fully “felt” like a true blue “school” book and that the characters felt more realistic because they were flawed and more nuanced than a lot of previous teen characters 😒

Don’t agree that all the NXM should necessarily “break bad”- it makes sense more for someone like Hellion, (who went through bodily harm repeatedly, was heavily “shunned” by adults or labeled as a proto-villain, and was already pretty naturally rebellious) than a lot of the other NXM characters. Like I don’t envision Indra or even modern day Elixir turning because of their personalities…MAYBE Pixie because of Limbo influence? Even Surge, for example, as angry as she is…I can’t picture it working narratively as well.

Agree with the Podcaster that in a lot of ways these characters work in a new title because they feel “college age”- they’re not too young that you have to write a YA/highschool book and can feature broader themes…but they’re also still a “hip” and “young” age…

Brought up what I have been saying for years- that the NXM represented cultural crisis like climate change, 9/11, recession, ect… basically general disenfranchisement caused by modernity…and that they still work for that feeling and are basically the “millennials” of X-books

Kamala WAS editorially mandated

I feel better hearing it described as “older Bendis” kind of book- as negative as I feel about Bendis, I did really enjoy his “street vibe” with Jessica Jones and Miles and miss those kinds of books. I miss books like “X-Factor Investigations” or the original “NYX”…

Really thrilled to hear Hellion is their favorite lol! (Although Hellion is pretty much EVERYONE’S favorite lol😜)

Really agree with the note that Hellion’s BIGGEST flaw isn’t that he’s wrong, but that he’s arrogant and condescending about it (it’s also TOTALLY why I think he’s an ♈️ and not a ♌️ )

Same with the “he’s not a BAD kid, he just comes off as bad”…

Agree that Laurie Collin’s COULD have made a really cool villian…although I really liked that despite her power set, Laurie WASN’T evil….also objectively…I’m more excited about it being Empath, because as everyone KNOWS, I REALLY wanted the Hellion v. Empath smackdown 😂🤣🤣

F***…. Might need to go back and read “Hellions” now 😂🤣🤣

The writers are obviously going to address the Sophie-Prodigy moment and Laura and Kamala (I have said this with Surge/Dust AX storyline…but again…there’s a difference with writing a problematic scene to explore a real problem vs. being racist/sexist/ect…)

Really sad to hear the Surge hate ☹️, especially since the writers are obviously doing the same “learning moment” with Sophie and David….again, I would ARGUE the whole point of that original story WAS that Surge was wrong…but whatevs

The “shippers” commentary made me laugh 😂🤣

Liked the conversation around the local feel/geography (I was actually really excited when the “Vessel” at Hudson Yards popped up in issue #1)

I actually DIDN’T think about how Sophie MISSED Decimation…which actually makes it even MORE interesting!… Hellion AND Prodigy are definitely going to give Sophie a piece of their minds though lol

Sophie and Kamala being in the same boat (both didn’t experience THE BAD ERA of X-Men) and learning from one another sounds like it will be really interesting! I am actually MORE excited about Sophie than I was previously after listening to this podcast episode!

The statement about Empath being “Emma’s greatest failure” because you can’t really humble or nudge that character was an interesting way to look at Manuel and I am interested in seeing more of this play out

Sounds like Anole is going to be the one that gets arrested (1:11.45)

The idea of Emma constantly talking shit about Carol Danvers cracked me up

Dante, David’s boyfriend will be heavily featured in issue #6; also I really appreciated the discussion around Dante, in general

It does sound like no one should get super attached to any ship from this podcast ep lol

Not sure I care for “Kamala= Superman, Laura=Batman”….but whatevs

Feel super empathetic to Kelly needing to get off the call for his wife- it was super nice of him to do this podcast interview and congratulations on the new addition to his family!! ❤️

Everyone already knows this by now but QQ was originally meant to be “The Krakoan” in the first pitch…honestly it’s for the best because I am picky about my QQ representation…

Hellion commentary (1:27:15)- because THAT’S the most important lol

Totally agree that QQ was a million times better as an antagonist and they (cough…Aaron…cough) ruined a great Morrison character

Kind of hope they didn’t JUST choose Julian because he’s a “white male privileged character”- Julian definitely IS that, but there’s also plenty more layers TO Julian…

This whole podcast episode is a love letter to Morrison and I LOVE it 😂🤣🤣🤣

Quentin DID steal Julian’s thunder and I am GLAD someone fucking SAID IT! 😂🤣🤣🤣🤣

Calling me out on my Hellion grievances lol - yes, yes I AM that bitter lol

Again- I actually don’t see Surge and Wallflower going evil; Wallflower because she saw how her father’s abuse of his powers affected her mother, and Surge, because I think Noriko is too loyal and dependent on others ultimately…. Julian makes sense because he’s always been a pretty independent thinker/ stood his ground when he thought he was right and always had a “damn the consequences” attitude. Julian IS loyal…but his need to do what he saw as “right” often trumped that loyalty- remember him turning on Emma to defend Laura! (might do a bigger write up on this later!)

Hellion got his hands back…but it sounds like they’re going to tackle THAT story on page possibly

I agree that Hellion TOTALLY would have gone through the Crucible as well- while I LIKED Julian’s prosthetics and what they represented…the truth is Julian more or less SAID he wanted them HEALED in “X-Men: Legacy”…it wouldn’t narratively make sense for him to pull a “Karma” and keep them

Kind of do hope we see Julian MAKING telekinetic floating hands as a fight move…

I agree that Hellion would be angry over the loss of Krakoa…but I actually think, after years of Hellion “wanting fame and glory”…after years and years of trauma and abandonment…receding into the background, having his friends alive and back…might have been a relief to him. While Hellion DEFINITELY IS arrogant…I do think he learned his lesson that there’s a negative to “fame and glory”…

Really pleased to hear Lanzing say he wants Hellion to be a bigger character and kind of push back on the “Hellion is just taking QQ’s original role’s place”- I know I am going to get flack for saying this from QQ fans… but; Hellion is more interesting than just being the ANGRY REBELLIOUS FASCHIST KID. QQ’s original anger didn’t have the layers Hellion does. While there’s definitely some egotism and arrogance there….Hellion WENT through a lot of trauma and isn’t entirely WRONG to be angry at the X-Men….Hellion I would argue ALWAYS had a complexity that QQ never did, because Julian was more emotionally intelligent than QQ (and that WAS kind of the point of Kid Omega…his intellect didn’t match his emotional intelligence! He WAS a more realistic take on the kid who is too smart for his own good!)

Glad to hear him mention Laura specifically!

the 7 train IS objectively terrible lol

This *might* be the book where Kamala’s family finds out she’s a superhero…

I agree with the writers and liked the Aamir moment- I think it does highlight that it IS easy to play into stereotypes and discriminate…especially when there’s propaganda actively reinforcing it…

Kamala is apparently going to get an X-verse version of “the Trumper relative” 😳🤣🤣🤣

G Willow Wilson run shoutout ✊✊

Couldn’t say much about the new “Quiet Council”….but they’re all “failed, used, and taught by Emma Frost”…

“Emma is the educator that matters”- truth!…although this DOESN’T highlight her legacy in a particularly nice way or bode well for the new generation of students 🤣🤣🤣

“Why would we STOP” commentary about Krakoa and the freedom they once had is great!

Calling attention to Hellion AND Esme not having the Empath power effect over them in the art (although the cuckoos powers often show up as pink as well)- won’t confirm or deny Empath controlling them

There isn’t a “Cut and Dry” villain in the book apparently (Ooooohhh! I love that! I really DO hope we get Magneto levels of ambiguity with all these characters!)

Agree that the artist did a great job with Empath’s character design and harkening back to the 80’s! (Technically Empath’s hair color changed depending on the artist- sometimes it was a dirty blonde, sometimes brown…also I could totally see Manuel dyeing his hair to match Emma…so…)

Kind of wonder if Firestar OR Magma will pop up… one of my FAV issues of Uncanny X-Men WAS the one where Empath and Roulette manipulated Warpath’s grief over Thunderbird and Firestar…

The commentary ON Empath and the relationship of psychology to power sets was really excellent!! (1:52:05) [I ADMIT IT NOW- I MIGHT NEED to EAT CROW and read “Hellions” 😂🤣🤣]

Possibly WILL be in conversation with Eve Ewing’s Emma book… (I really WOULD like to see a dive into Emma constantly trying to “undo” the past with new students, and how it’s NEVER about Emma trying to do “right” by these kids…as much as Emma USES her students as martyrdom…the truth is, much like Xavier, it’s ALWAYS ABOUT her ego…that’s why she does it…) [I KNOW people hated KYOST’s take on Emma back in the day…but I would argue that they weren’t entirely WRONG that Emma’s actions are complex and not ALWAYS altruistic…]

….It KIND OF IS Emma’s fault, people 😂🤣

Not sure I love the idea of the cast growing…but we will see…

Lanzing and Kelly MIGHT be on again!

Thought about making a Greg land joke with the Spider-Man plug…but I won’t be petty….

Overall- I feel better about this book; it DOES seem like the writers are putting A LOT of thought into this book and aren’t just doing things without thinking about it deeply first! I definitely think this is going to be one of the strongest X-book we’ve gotten in a long time and I am PUMPED!

(Also I may have to listen to CEREBRO Files more- the commentary was really great 😂🤣🤣)

I know I may regret it…but I am REALLY feeling optimistic about this book!!

#Cerebro podcast #The Cerebro Files #NYX #Jackson Lanzing #Collin Kelly #marvel #x men #new xmen #new x men #academy x #new x men academy x #bring back the new x men

11 notes · View notes