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tallstars-rewrite · 3 years ago

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Chapter 20

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As Reena said, the visitors kept to themselves for several days after Hen passed away. Heatherstar sent someone to inform them they would be allowed to stay visiting their territory for at least the rest of greenleaf if they wanted more time to say goodbye to their companion. She seemed genuinely remorseful that WindClan had not been able to help, but Bess and her company were grateful as ever that WindClan had offered at all. Well, almost all of them. Tallpaw hadn’t seen any sign of Sparrow at all since he’d ran from the camp that day, and neither had anyone else in the clan as far as he knew. He couldn’t place why, but it made him uneasy how effortlessly the little loner crept around undetected. Reena claimed Sparrow was still with them, that he’d never leave for good, but even she wasn’t seeing him very often. It clearly worried her, but there was nothing to do but give him more time.

The amount of energy Tallpaw had to spend on pitying the cold loner was limited anyway. He, unsurprisingly, still hadn’t had a single conversation with his father. When Heatherstar heard about the accident that had happened in the tunnels, Sandstone’s project was put on indefinite hold. Tallpaw had been very careful not to be in camp during that time, but based on what he overheard from Woollycloud, his father had not taken it well at all. Now he was honestly terrified to risk even being in Sandstone’s line of sight without an escape route, so it was safer to continue being out of camp as much as possible, and hiding behind other cats when he had to be. Tallpaw was completely exhausted from all the extra patrols and hunting missions he kept insisting to Dawnstripe he definitely had the energy for, but in the end, it was worth it. Besides, now that it was clear he was no natural tunneler, there was more time to double down on moor runner training, to make it up to Dawnstripe. Tallpaw had to at least not let some cat down.

Late newleaf storms had returned hard, cloaking the moor in a gloomy shade. It was difficult to tell how low the sun was from behind the thick cloud cover. Tallpaw trailed along on his second patrol that day, almost grateful for the rainy chill to keep him awake while the sunset patrol was scouting from the north to the eastern border. It wasn’t ideal in the wet weather, but Tallpaw preferred water in the grass infinitely more to the thought of water leaking into tunnel walls around him, so he was among the few younger cats who didn’t complain about damp patrols.

Shrewpaw, Hareflight, Brackenwing, and Fallowspring traveled with them. Even through the slight haze of exhaustion that always weighed on him in some way or another, Tallpaw could feel that he had gotten stronger in the moons since he started training. He and Shrewpaw walked a bit ahead of the others, keeping an eye out for a chance to catch something. Stuck only training with each other, their teamwork hunting had vastly improved since their first attempt. Shrewpaw silently signaled to him the location of a rabbit a short distance off from the patrol. Wordlessly, they fanned out from one another as the rest of their patrol paused to watch. They had the luck of being down wind on their side. Tallpaw crept as close as he dared before he shot out of the grass. The rabbit wheeled around and took off, Tallpaws claws only managing to graze it. But he had expected as much. Keeping close behind it, he drove it to where he knew Shrewpaw was waiting, and in a brown blur of fur, Shrewpaw rammed into it from the side. The animal was almost the same size as the apprentices, and it put up a fight. Tallpaw gripped it by its shoulders and yanked its head up, allowing Shrewpaw to jump on top of it and sink his teeth into the side of its neck. The rabbit eventually stopped kicking, Shrewpaw yowled triumphantly while he heard their patrol call out their praise at the fairly clean catch.

Tallpaw rolled the rabbit off of him “You’re welcome by the way, for letting you show off with the final kill. Aren’t you glad Fallowspring joined the patrol?”

Shrewpaw flattened his ears “Like I need your help to show off.”

As they dragged the rabbit back to the patrol together, Dawnstripe called, “we may need to have some of you branch off early to take that back. Unless you want to try dragging it the long way home.”

“It's not too long a run straight to camp from here, so I’ll come back when we’re finished.” Tallpaw said.

“I almost thought that rabbit was going to pummel you,” Fallowspring laughed. “It’s as big as Shrewpaw is.”

“Good thing my claws are better,” Shrewpaw boasted, licking rabbit blood from his muzzle.

The roll in the rain laden grass had soaked them both. Tallpaw sneezed disdainfully as Shrewpaw shook water droplets into his nose. “Maybe Briarpaw had the right idea after all, not having to go on patrols like us. He’d be even heavier than you in this weather.” Tallpaw said.

Shrewpaw sniffed. “Sure, but I still think going out more often would be better for his head. Did you see him this morning? He got all worked up about some prey blood on the ground, or something like that. Apparently he’s ‘really sure this time’ that something bad will happen, he’s been on about it for days.” Shrewpaw lowered his voice. “He keeps saying I can’t tell the old badger-face about all of his worrying. Like he thinks if Hawkheart sees him getting too worked up, he’ll make him quit training .”

Tallpaw frowned. “Well...did Briarpaw consider that Hen passing away might have been the ‘bad thing’? A cat did die, that’s pretty bad.”

“Try telling him that.”

They’d fallen a bit behind the rest of the patrol, and Brackenwing turned her head to them. “Don’t think I can’t hear you two gossiping back there.”

“Sorry,” Tallpaw ducked his head, “We’re just worried about him.” Or I am at least. Shrewpaw seemed more exasperated by his brother than anything.

“I know it’s hard to understand what he’s doing, but he’ll be fine. When Briarpaw has his heart set on something, he sees it through. I’m sure Hawkheart will help him sort through this. Maybe you could bring him your rabbit to cheer him up when we get back. It was an incredible catch! I’m so proud of you,” Brackenwing looked warmly to her son, and then added to Tallpaw, “both of you. Your mother will be thrilled to see what a great hunter you are shaping up to be.”

Tallpaw wordlessly nodded and thanked her. Brackenwing spoke of his mother more than his mother spoke to him. At this point, he just let it go as if it was normal how little he saw her. Patrolling felt good to get his restless energy out, but sure enough there crept that familiar heaviness into his chest when he thought of Palebird. After all, part of why he wanted his father to understand him so desperately was because he didn’t want to lose him like he had her. So much for that. Though he’d sometimes catch Palebird staring at him from afar, he knew if she wanted him to approach first, she was going to be disappointed. Brackenwing had even tried to convince Palebird to join them on their patrol today, where she could have seen his progress for herself, but her “illness” that he knew little about had spiked up again, and she hadn’t left her den. Brackenwing seemed like she was trying not to draw attention to their distance, but she must have noticed the wistfulness in his response.

She quietly licked his ear and murmured, “she really is proud of you. Your mother is going through a difficult time right now, but she loves you. I’m sure she’ll be able to join us on patrols again soon.”

Some part Tallpaw wanted to ask if she knew why his mother was so distant, but he was never sure if Brackenwing was being honest with him. If his mother was disappointed in him, he’d never hear it from Brackenwing. She only offered him praise and tried to smooth things over best she could. Sometimes Tallpaw wished he really had been Brackenwing’s kit as well. It was so easy between her and her kits, even when Briarpaw had chosen an unexpected path. But it would do him no good to dwell on that, and wishing his own kin away only increased the guilt weighing down his paws.

The patrol had very nearly made the complete round. As they approached the north-eastern border that ran against the treeline before the Thunderpath, he pricked his ears and stared a bit nervously off into the trees as the patrol marked the border.

“Things have been quiet on ShadowClan’s side for a while,” Dawnstripe said warily.

“Do you think Heatherstar was right to call their bluff?” Tallpaw asked.

“One can never be too sure.” Hareflight warned. “Keep a careful eye out, we’re still under orders to make sure this border is marked especially well.”

Tallpaw and Shrewpaw wandered a bit further ahead. Shrewpaw was casting glares into the dark pines on the border.

“I swear I can smell something,” he muttered. “If ShadowClan shows their muzzles anywhere near here again, I'll tear them off their ugly faces.”

Tallpaw opened his jaws to scent the air. A particularly foul smelling monster had rumbled by not long ago, and it clouded many of the other scents around him. It was hard to tell if the ShadowClan he tasted was from their side of the border or over it. He got so caught up narrowing his eyes at every shape that moved in the trees, he didn’t realize the patrol had gotten ahead of him. As he turned to catch up, a very loud, and very deliberate, crack made him jump and wheel back around.

“Shrewpaw--” he hissed, looking around desperately for the other apprentice. Something moved in the undergrowth up ahead. Another crack. Tallpaw hurried forward and heard Shrewpaw’s snarl before he saw the dark cat sitting above him in a thin branch, glowering down at them with a malicious sneer.

“Whoops,” the tom said, and Tallpaw recognized the smug bratty face of Darkpaw, crooked tail flicking barley within reach. “Looks like I've been spotted.”

Shrewpaw gave a low growl, loud enough to catch the rest of the patrol's attention. Fallowspring was there in an instant, bursting through the undergrowth to stand between them

“What do you think you’re doing up there, you little rat?” she demanded.

“Just an undersized apprentice isn’t much of an invasion.” Dawnstripe snorted.

“I’ll drag him down!” Shrewpaw swiped viciously at the ShadowClan tom's tail.

Darkpaw blinked at the patrol surrounding him with wide orange eyes. “Oh no,” he whimpered, “you’re not going to hurt me are you? What would I do then?”

He was clearly mocking them. Did he think they wouldn’t attack him just because he was an apprentice? He was certainly old enough to know better. Dawnstripe and Hareflight looked at each other, clearly annoyed, but not worried.

Tallpaw saw Dawnstripe nod to him. “Why don’t you get rid of this runaway pest so we can continue,”

He stiffened as he realized she was giving him permission for a fair fight. Tallpaw stared up at the ShadowClan apprentice. If Darkpaw was going to behave like that, then he could certainly stand to get some sense knocked into him. Even so, Tallpaw had never really attacked a cat before. In his heartbeat of hesitation, Shrewpaw shoved ahead of him and made a mad leap for the branch with outstretched claws.

Darkpaw barely dodged and jumped down into the bushes below with a laugh. “You should really pay more attention to your surroundings!”

Tallpaw wasn’t quite sure what happened after that. A chorus of furious screeches came from somewhere behind him, something slammed into him, knocking him into the brush, his head smacked hard against the hard earth and his ears started ringing.

“Ambush!” he heard someone cry. The forest was alive with screeches. Tallpaw had no idea where Darkpaw had gone. He heard Shrewpaw snarl and swipe, and suddenly the furious apprentice was shoving a disoriented Tallpaw to his feet.

“Get up and fight!” Shrewpaw yowled as he plunged forward into the fray. There was a whole group of ShadowClan warriors wrestling with their patrol. Had they been hiding there the whole time? Tallpaw’s shock was replaced quickly with anger and a spike of adrenaline. There was no more time for wondering what to do, and he didn’t have time to be afraid as he launched himself at the first body stinking of ShadowClan that he saw. He wrapped his paws around thin spiky gray fur and sank his teeth into the shoulder of a tom much larger than himself. With flexibility he wouldn’t have thought possible, the gray tom turned his neck and bit the top of Tallpaw’s scruff, yanking him forward. Tallpaw opened his mouth to yowl in surprise as he was thrown onto the ground.

“Stupid fight to pick,” A harsh raspy voice snarled into his face. He saw long glinting teeth and sharp icey eyes. Tallpaw vaguely recalled the appearance of ShadowClan's deputy himself, Stonetooth. He rolled out of the way as fast as he could as Stonetooth’s viciously sharp teeth snapped loudly an inch from his ears. A single hard swipe from the deputy knocked Tallpaw off balance, but before claws reached his pelt, Brackenwing slammed into Stonetooth and grappled him around the neck as she bit at his head. Tallpaw has never seen the molly fight, and she was terrifyingly strong and larger than her opponent, but Stonetooth was agile, easily twisting his way out of her grip. Tallpaw began to swipe at the enemy warrior’s back as a distraction while Brackenwing slashed at his face, but he was knocked to the ground again before he could aim it. Whoever threw Tallpaw down was gone quickly as Shrewpaw snapped at the retreating dark-furred figure before turning back to help his mother tackle Stonetooth.

“Stay together!” came Hareflight’s yowl. Tallpaw scrambled for the scraps of battle training he could remembert, and held his ground beside Shrewpaw.

But then from the shadows of scraggly undergrowth, he heard someone hiss, “what’s wrong little apprentice? You’re not good at fighting on your own, are you?”

Ashpaw, Tallpaw scarcely recognized the young ShadowClan cat that had tried to pick a fight with them at the gathering. She waited in the bushes just out of reach. Why was she just sitting there watching? Tallpaw swiped at her once and tried to turn again to keep pace with Shrewpaw lashing out at Stonetooth’s flanks. He heard Dawnstripe’s pained yowl somewhere.

“Too much of a coward to chase me off, then? guessed as much.” Ashpaw jeered.

It was stupid of him to try and take on an older apprentice alone, but the word coward echoed in his ears, sending a bristling bolt of fury through him.

“Shut up!” Tallpaw snarled and wheeled around on her. Shrewpaw was lost somewhere behind him. He pounced at the voice, but she’d ducked away. “Who do you think you're calling a coward when you won’t even fight!?” he screeched. Where had she gone?

“You're making this too easy." The taunting growl came from his left, and before he knew what happened, he was on the ground again, Darkpaw snapping at his neck. Both ShadowClan apprentices were on top of him now and Tallpaw couldn’t flip himself back over. He was alone, teeth sunk hard into his ear and he yowled in pain as panic started to take over. Would they really kill him? It was against the code, but Darkpaw didn’t look like he cared. Tallpaw thrashed and swiped uselessly, all proper training forgotten as he flailed. Suddenly some of the weight was lifted off of him and he heard Ashpaw yowl in surprise as Shrewpaw grappled her to the ground. Darkpaw, less confident without his bigger friend, was distracted enough for Tallpaw to kick him hard in the face, just barely missing his eyes. Blood pooling from his nose, the ShadowClan cat turned and leaped back into the bushes with Ashpaw in tow. Shrewpaw skidded to a stop, panting hard, looking ragged.

“Thank--” Tallpaw began, but Shrewpaw just growled at him.

“You made me leave my mother to come save you because you ran off on your own! Stay together, you idiot!”

Tallpaw tried his best to follow as they struggled towards the rest of their cornered patrol. We should retreat! This is hopeless! he thought desperately, but he had no idea where to retreat to. There seemed to be cats surrounding them on every side. He saw a bloodied Brackenwing take Stonetooth over a muddy slope, out of sight amidst the chaos. Shrewpaw leaped after them, but there were more ShadowClan warriors in his way now, and they wouldn’t let him through. The patrol was now completely split up, and severely outnumbered. He tried to help Shrewpaw shove through a much bigger warrior so he could get to Brackenwing, when suddenly, Stonetooth’s voice rang out a call for retreat. All at once ShadowClan pushed away from their opponents and slipped back into the shadows, streaming through the narrow Thunderpath tunnel. Tallpaw stared after them, bloody and bewildered. Stonetooth turned back to give them one last icy glare with bared and bloodied teeth.

“We warned you once, and we won’t do it again. You will back off this border, or next time face more of our claws.”

With that he was gone, and the woods were quiet once more.

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#cw blood #cw violence #*canon typical violence #FRU20 #chapter 20 #~fight scenes my be-hated~

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bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher · 4 years ago

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A Great Treasure

(Jaskier just constantly getting kidnapped by dragons and dressed real pretty? Yeah. I’m into it.)

tw: gratuitous, almost My Immortal levels of outfit description because I am A Ho For The Look, dragons being horny, Geralt being soft as fuck but also kinda horny

---

The next dragon that took Jaskier wasn’t nearly as sneaky. Nor was it green. The great, sapphire-blue reptile swooped down above the road in broad daylight and plucked the surprised bard up with its great talons, disappearing over the tops of the trees before Geralt could so much as think to pull his sword. The Witcher heard Jaskier’s startled cry echo out over the forest and urged Roach into a canter. He departed from the beaten path and took off in the same general direction the creature had been headed. “It hasn’t even been three full fucking weeks yet. Fuck.”

Hello, Jaskier! I’m a friend of Etheid’s, the dragon introduced herself. The draconic method of telepathic communication still bothered the bard a little but the blue dragon’s voice seemed more sing-song than Etheid’s had been. Certainly more feminine. Call me Lythos, or Lyth for short.

“Nice to meet you, Lythos,” Jaskier muttered, clenching his eyes shut tightly. “Let’s talk more when we’re on solid ground, yeah?”

Afraid of heights, bardling?

“Just a smidgen of a little bit.”

Worry not, we’re nearly to my tower.

“Another tower?”

Whatever happened to talking on solid ground?

“I’ve been kidnapped by two dragons in one month. I’m curious.”

I doubt this will be the last time you’re kidnapped by a dragon, either. Not until one of my brethren gives up during their turn or loses the bet.

“Their turn? What bet?! What are you talking about?”

I will explain the situation to you more fully when we land. There is much to be discussed. Many things to plan. Many rules to be determined and recorded for the others.

Jaskier sighed, glad he’d left his lute tied to Roach’s saddlebags today, and let himself be carried off to yet another strange adventure. “So you guys are just going to keep swooping in and stealing me away like this because it’s fun?”

Yes. And because Borch said that you and Geralt are kind-hearted and friendly mortals. We dragons don’t meet many such humans in our travels; we’d like to reward you somehow.

“So you’re rewarding me by kidnapping me?”

That’s why we included the second part of the deal, with the elaborately designed outfits. It’s not just because we enjoy collecting treasures from all over the Continent and squirreling them away to play with later; it’s also our form of payment to you. If you’re dressed from head to toe in silk and gold when Geralt rescues you then there’s no time to stop and take those items off before you ‘escape’. You can keep them or sell them; anything you are given by one of us should be considered payment for services rendered.

“And the service that Geralt and I are providing is...entertainment?”

Correct. It would be unfair to use up so much of a Witcher’s time without paying him.

“You’d be surprised how many people do that, actually,” Jaskier griped. “Village after village, turning him away without payment just because he’s a mutant and a freak. It’s horrible!”

Now you understand why my kin are so desperate for something good in the world. The love between you and Geralt is pure and strong, that is the other reason we chose the two of you.

Jaskier blushed. “We’re just a couple of flimsy mortals that happened to bump into each other and get along. Most of the time. It’s a very human thing to do. There are other couples in need of some emotional urging, if you’re looking to orchestrate a romance.”

No, we wish only to further yours. Now, would you care to look through the clothes I’ve gathered? We have at least another day before your Witcher finds us.

“Less than a day if he chooses not to pause for meditation, the fool.”

He will not risk losing you, Lythos sighed happily. I checked in on him earlier; he is meditating and gathering his strength. He has admitted his love for you now and is determined to prove himself. How dreamy.

“That is absolutely precious! Ugh, I love him so much.”

Then let us make you lovely, so that when he arrives he is doubly excited to see you.

“I can’t argue with that logic. Not from such an ancient and wise creature.”

Flattery gets you everywhere, bard, Lythos teased. She huffed out a thin cloud of steam and Jaskier chuckled in return.

“I know.”

---

“Are you kidding me?”

Absolutely not, the dragon shook its snout. Try them on. Unless you don’t like it, of course; I have other options, too.

“No, it’s all very lovely. It’s just...I get to keep them?”

Of course. I don’t want to make you change your clothes in the middle of Geralt’s daring rescue. That would totally ruin the romance!

“I suppose that would be rather odd. Even Geralt might catch on to something like that.” Jaskier held clothes the dragon had preferred in his hands, glancing once more at the suggested shirt. “What exactly is this supposed to be?”

It’s a tunic, of course. What else could it possibly be?

The bard gesticulated towards the dragon, holding the apparent tunic out for inspection as if he was shocked or surprised by Lyth’s choice. “It’s completely sheer!”

Yes, and it will make you look so very delicate, Lythos urged. Just try it on with the pants. Just once. You can change if you don’t like it, like I said. There’s a whole closet of costumery at your disposal, Jaskier.

The bard sighed and pulled the pants on first. They were made of a deep, peacock blue silk and hugged him in all the right places. He turned back and forth, observing their fit in the full-length mirror Lythos had provided. His legs were defined but the material wasn’t overly tight; it hadn’t bunched up near his thighs or ass like silk of this kind usually did. “Were these tailored to fit me?”

Yes, they were.

“How? I’ve only been here for a few hours and you pulled these directly from the armoire!”

Etheid passed along your measurements to the rest of us so that we could better prepare.

“Right, of course. Dragons. Bets. All that fun stuff,” the bard sighed. He tugged the gossamer shirt down over his head and tucked it neatly into the waistband of his high-waisted trousers. Jaskier glanced towards the mirror again and discovered that he looked...he looked amazing.

The shirt had been designed with a low, swooping neckline that revealed both his collarbones and a good portion of his chest. The thin, almost translucent white material left whatever the shirt did cover still almost entirely visible. When he blushed it could be rather obviously traced all the way down to his mid-chest. The giddy bard mussed his hair a little and did his best pouting ‘rescue me’ face; oh yes, that’s the way to do it.

Jaskier looked downright sinful.

“You are absolutely brilliant, Lythos! Geralt is going to lose his mind when he sees me in this ensemble.”

So you’ll wear it?

“This particular outfit is my new favorite. I’ll have to wait until the next dragon shows up before we can turn a profit from this whole bard-napping melodrama venture.”

There is always the jewelry. I can give you a few extra pieces to sell since you love the clothes so much; I have too much of the stuff sitting around and collecting dust anyway.

“Would you like it if I let you choose all my jewelry? I’m afraid I tend to go a bit overboard.”

Yes, yes! The dragon huffed happily, filling the space briefly with a cloud of steam. I have temporary earrings and bracelets and necklaces. I even have anklets if you so desire.

“Goody!” the bard rejoiced. “I love anklets! I never have good enough reason to wear them, though. This will be lovely. Do you mind if I roll the pants up to my knees? Geralt does so love the sight of my bare skin. I think it would drive him absolutely mad if we showed a little ankle for the Witcher.”

Please do whatever you see fit, my friend, Lythos insisted. You must sparkle for your White Wolf. You must look the part of the treasure he seeks to find!

“Ah, so I’m a treasure this time instead of a damsel?”

Hmm, yes. I think that makes it more interesting. What kind of treasure would you like to be?

“Geralt’s,” the bard breathed dreamily. The large, winged reptile rolled her eyes and huffed again.

Duh, that’s the point. I meant like...pirate treasure? A king’s treasure? I’ve never done roleplay before. Mostly just burning down the houses of rude nobles and kidnapping some princesses upon request. I’m not incredibly familiar with human treasure.

“Oh! I could be your hoard!”

You’re brilliant! Of course! This will be so fun. What if you laid in my tail when Geralt arrived? Like I was guarding you?

“Well then how would he get me away without hurting you?”

I could make him give a speech? Woo you away from me with your words?

“Oh, that’s very clever. Very dramatic. I love it!”

We do make a good team, I think.

“Do you have any makeup? This look would be excellent with some eyeliner.”

You are definitely as entertaining and fun as Etheid promised. I’m sure that Aramaris will enjoy you just as much.

“Wait, who’s Aramaris?”

They chose the next lot after me. Then, after Aramaris has their turn, Vertos would like a chance to partake.

“Hold on a minute. There’s a waiting list of dragons who want to kidnap me?”

And see Geralt come running to your aid, yes. It is rather sweet to watch and we are all very bored. We’re going to see who can make you the prettiest and get Geralt the most worked up.

“So this is just a game to you?”

As I said before, it is both a game and a legitimate matchmaking endeavor. Additionally, we’re compensating you for your time and trouble.

“I suppose,” Jaskier agreed. “Plus this outfit is absolutely to die for.”

Yes, and now to the makeup!

---

Geralt was very confused and very tired. He had tracked the dragon through the woods to yet another ancient, dilapidated tower. Jaskier was hidden at the top, no doubt, probably terrified out of his mind. This was the second dragon to capture his idiot bard in a fucking month, though the first time had been extremely unorthodox. Just plain odd, really, considering Geralt’s previous experiences.

Oh well, nothing he could do now except climb the tower and rescue Jaskier.

---

Jaskier was waiting for his Witcher to arrive while reclining within the coil of Lythos’s enormous blue tail His pants were only a half-shade brighter than her scales and the contrast was remarkably artistic (perhaps by design). The bard was barefoot and his pants were rolled up to just below the knee. Lyth had insisted on decking him out in lots of jewelry since Jaskier was to be her supposed hoard. It will be more realistic and believable if you’re dripping with silver and sapphires, bard. He found himself unable to argue with her logic once again.

Jaskier had a handful of thin silver bands around one ankle, a silver cuff around his left wrist, and another bejeweled cuff at the top of his left bicep, beneath the shirt. Lythos had added a thin silver chain around his neck, which fell to just above his chest hair and ended with a teardrop shaped sapphire pendant. Some kind of crushed gemstone powder had been dusted atop his collarbones and into his hair, making him seem to sparkle in the midday sun. He’d added a light, smudged layer of kohl around his eyes to widen and darken them like he had once at court. The dragon had also demanded that he slide several rings of various styles and sizes onto his long, tapered fingers. It will draw his attention to your hands, she explained. You will thank me tonight, I’m sure.

That suggestion had Jaskier blushing brightly and Lythos had nearly snorted fire from laughing so hard at the young man’s reaction.

Here he comes! She announced, bringing Jaskier’s back to the present. His blue eyes fixated on the thick wooden door that led from the chamber where Lythos lay curled and ‘guarding’ him to the bedchamber where he’d stayed the last two nights. Very shortly after her announcement there was a determined grunt, a heavy thud, and the door crashed open to reveal Geralt.

The Witcher was breathing heavily and his nostrils were flared but he wasn’t wearing his armor. He hadn’t been wearing it last time, either, and Jaskier wondered if he was already onto their little charade. “You know I won’t win if we battle,” Geralt admitted, staring across the room at the lounging dragon.

His eyes flickered to Jaskier for a moment, widened when they took in the bard’s appearance, and then returned to staring down the monster.

I don’t intend to fight you, Witcher, Lythos said, projecting her bored words into both of their minds. Jaskier knew that she was faking the cold disinterest but his heart still picked up speed when one of her large claws hooked beneath his chin and raised him into a slightly taller sitting position. Though I suspect that you’ve come to take back my newest treasure and I am loathe to let it go so soon.

The Witcher nodded, unable to form words. He was nervous for the life of his bard but he was also slightly distracted by the way Jaskier was being forced to arch his neck and tilt his head that way. The bard looked so fucking breakable and soft, surrounded by scales and held partially aloft by such a strong and pointed appendage. His eyes were wide and completely focused on the Witcher, his own peril seemingly irrelevant even as he gasped against the scraping claw. Geralt shook his head to clear it and narrowed his eyes even more. “Don’t hurt him.”

It’s my treasure, Lythos hummed dismissively. I will do with the human lad as I please. Go away, Witcher, and leave us to play.

“He’s not a toy,” Geralt growled. He reached for his sword and cursed when his hand swiped through empty air. He knew bringing a weapon up so many flights of stairs was pointless but he still should have kept it on him for safety. Jaskier made a gentle, nervous noise and the Wicher flinched. “Please don’t hurt him!”

You would barter for the human? For his safe return?

“Take me instead,” Geralt offered. He held his hands up in surrender and took a slow step forward. Lythos lowered Jaskier back down to his lazily reclined position and raised her scaly brow. The bard was shocked; he hadn’t been expecting the Witcher to do something so drastic right away. He’d anticipated some kind of argument first.

You would sacrifice yourself for him? Trade yourself to me in order to save him?

“Of course,” the Witcher scoffed. Lythos could hear his slow heartbeat starting to accelerate. “I love him. I’d do anything for him.”

Hmm. Little treasure, what do you think?

“I can’t let him do that for me. He’s a Witcher, I am merely a traveling bard. The world has more need for him than it does for me.”

“Jaskier,” Geralt half-whimpered. A pleading tone bled into his words as he took another step forward, this time towards the bard, “You foolish man. I know you. You’d grow bored here. You’d grow antsy to travel. You’d try to escape and you’d get yourself hurt or killed or...”

I protect what is mine, the dragon interrupted. He will be safe here. I will keep him happy and entertained.

“Please,” the Witcher sighed. He dropped to his knees and bowed his head forward, white hair falling in a curtain around his ridiculously attractive face. “Jaskier was the first good thing Destiny ever did for me. I can’t lose him.”

I have seen into your heart and know these feelings to be true, Lythos intoned. She spoke as if she was making a very difficult decision and not sticking to a vague pre-determined script. You may take the bard and go, but you must hurry. I may change my mind.

Jaskier clambered out from between the coils of her massive tail and allowed Geralt to sweep him up into those strong, stable arms. He clung to the Witcher’s neck and buried his face to hide his smile. Lythos said her final goodbye to the bard alone; I hope my kin treat you fairly. If they do not, let me know, and I shall take care of it. Thank you for the lovely time.

“Thank YOU,” Jaskier mouthed.

And then they began to descend the winding tower staircase.

---

“I hope I never see another dragon again in my life except for maybe Borch,” Geralt panted, urging Roach into a slightly faster canter.

“Yeah,” Jaskier said, smiling a little to himself. “Running into another dragon so soon after two nearly identical kidnappings would be very strange.”

#geraskier fic #geraskier #like 2.5k words i think #soft geralt #geraskier ficlet #in league with dragons #protective geralt #the dragons treat jaskier like a paper doll #let's dress up the bard #and mess with the witcher #that'll be fun #geraskier fanfic #geralt x jaskier #ooooh boy #in league with dragons pt 2 #we've kidnapped the bard so now what #how many will it take before geralt realizes something is up?#inhuman jaskier

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mxmorganmorph · 3 years ago

Text

The Sole Survivor

Sunlight streamed through the beige blinds of the Benbow Diner, highlighting dust particles drifting through the air above the usual table where the redhead sat. A fog of tired haze obscured their mind, which they groggily fought off with the sweetened coffee that sat before them. Each sip pulled them just a little bit more out of last night’s slumber as they mentally reviewed what needed to be done for the day.

After this, Morgan would go to campus and make their way to the dingy little basement cubicle they called their office. They would pick up the pile of essays that could use a little work, before traveling up to their classroom. Once class began, they would hand back everyone’s essays and start a discussion at what went wrong--where was the material not landing and what could be done to explain it better? They would of course leave some time to get to the actual lesson listed on the syllabus, but this definitely had to be addressed. They couldn’t just chalk this up to a failure of the students and call it a day. Clearly, they had failed somewhere as a professor. The fact that they didn’t have a formal background or training in education was becoming more apparent with each semester--

Their thoughts were interrupted as a man came into view. He was a decrepit old thing, dressed in a tweed suit with a black suitcase by his side. Round spectacles sat atop blue eyes, faded in their luster over the years, but looking directly at Morgan with interest. Much to their surprise, they made themselves right at home by sliding in the seat across from them.

“Matthew Morgan.”

Morgan nearly choked on the coffee they were drinking, the sound of their deadname causing their throat to tighten and their eyes to go wide. They coughed and sputtered, lowering the mug back onto the table while their free hand thumped against their chest. The man simply sat there waiting for the reaction to pass, his expression unreadable.

When their coughing fit finally calmed down, he pulled the briefcase up onto the table. “I have to admit, you are a very difficult person to find. But in any case, I will try to make this short. My name is Arthur Winchester and I am a representative of the State of West Virginia. How are you today?” He asked, a faint attempt at being polite. All Morgan could do was stare back at him blankly.

“...Right, let’s just get down to business then.” He unlocked the briefcase and opened it, briefly obscuring the view between the two of them. All Morgan could see was his wrinkled hand putting aside folders and papers with extremely formal looking seals and signatures on them. Their heart began to sink with dread.

He shut the briefcase and put it on the ground, pulling the retrieved papers in front of him. “There’s no easy way to say this, so I’ll just come right out. I’m sorry to inform you that I am here on behalf of the State to distribute the assets of Mia Morgan, who passed on June 4th, 2021.“

Morgan, who had been disassociating in a wave of dysphoria and resignation to their fate, fell back into their body as if the weight of the unexpected news had shackled around their ankles. Their blank stare turned to one of shock, confusion, and a cocktail of darker emotions that they weren’t ready to face. Their dry mouth parted, croaking out their first words since the man sat down.

“H-how...?”

“Drug overdose,” he replied flatly, causing Morgan to wince. As if there would ever be any other answer. Their hands lowered to their lap beneath the table to hide the fact that they were shaking.

“Now, as Ms. Morgan had no last will and testament, it is up to the State to divide her estate among her surviving relatives. As she had no spouse, and no living parents, her entire estate is to be passed onto her next of kin--her child. You are her sole survivor, Matthew.”

Morgan closed their eyes, struggling to ignore the crushing weight of the reality that was just laid out before them. “P-please call me Morgan,” they all but begged, their voice low and ragged.

“My apologies, Mr. Morgan,” he apologized, not realizing that was just as bad, if not worse. “For this transition to be completed, there’s just some paperwork I need to go over with you and have you sign. To be honest, Ms. Morgan did not have much to her name. No life insurance, no 401k. What will be passed to you is a small bank account and her property.”

Their eyes shot open and looked up at the man directly. “The Cherry Grove house?” They asked in disbelief. Arthur blinked in surprise at the sudden burst of energy from the redhead sitting before them but nodded.

“That’s the one. Now, in order to move forward--” His voice became a drone, his legal jargon becoming little more than background noise to their thought process. The house that they grew up in. She never left--of course she hadn’t, where else would she have gone? Zaide had left the house, mortgage fully repaid, as his final gift to the family before abandoning them entirely, leaving everyone to fend for themselves. A gorgeous, two story house to become nothing more than a festering drug den by its inherited inhabitants. The very same house their mother had told them never to come back to.

Now she was dead, and the house belonged to them. An empty shell rotted from the inside, stained with nothing but bad memories and isolation. A little like how Morgan was feeling right now.

“Mr. Morgan?” Their train of thought came to a crash when they realized that Arthur was staring right at them, his blue eyes piercing as he held out a pen in offering. “Will you sign?”

“Yes, uh, o-of course,” they replied, taking the pen and signing their full, dead, legal name. Apart of them wondered if they should have read the document before hand, or actually listened to anything the man had to say. But in the end, they were no legal expert, and they certainly didn’t have the money to hire a lawyer to interpret it for them. At least, not yet. Whatever little money their mother left behind would not be much, but the house itself held more value than any of the Morgans could’ve dreamed. Assuming they would sell it. Or would they live in it? Or would they burn it to the ground?

“Lastly, there is the matter of Ms. Morgan’s remains. Should you claim the body, you will be in charge of making funeral arrangements, as well as the costs that come with that. Should you waive your claim, the State will pay to have the body cremated. Which would you prefer?”

They sat there, frozen. After everything that happened, after everything she put them through, were they really going to spend their money on a funeral that nobody would attend? Would they really return back to their homeland, where they had sworn never to set foot again, in order to maneuver a useless and performative tradition?

Their mind floated to a face, one that they kept locked in the deepest recesses of their brain. The face of the first person they loved--and who ever loved them. The person who should be inheriting all of this, not them. The person they wished were here more than anyone else in the world. They had to think about what she would’ve wanted.

So with a deep breath, they nodded and said, “I’ll accept the claim.” With that, they signed yet another piece of paper, which Arthur collected to return to his briefcase.

“Thank you. That should be all. I apologize for disturbing your breakfast, but unfortunately these ugly matters need to be dealt with. I must be off now. Once again, I’m sorry for your loss.” Taking up the briefcase in hand and using the other to push up his glasses, he left the table as quickly as he arrived, ringing the bell on the door as he exited.

Morgan sat there, heavy and suffocated by everything that had just transpired. Their coffee sat as stale and cold as the new reality that was settling upon them. There were no words, no way to address the feelings that were broiling to the surface. They would just have to do what they always did--gather it up like a stack of signed papers and file it away in the briefcase of their mind, never to be touched again.

But first, before they could do that, they’d have to do something else.

They were going to have to go home.

#drabble #death tw #drugs tw

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arcade-conspiracy · 4 years ago

Note

hi can I request a matchup for danganronpa, death note , and bnha maybe ? i’m 18 she/they bisexual ! i’m 5’1 and i’m really social and am friendly to everyone ! I work hard to be likable but still am very insecure and worry a lot that everyone hates me and i’m not good enough. I collect childish stuff like calico critters and stuffed animals! I get really bad migraines a lot and have bad anxiety especially with paranoia scares but I still love horror !

Uhh do I kin you?? We’re literally so similar??? You seem so dope????

I match you with,,,

Nejire Hado!

She adores everything about you

Finds you so fascinating, you’re like,, her favorite thing

She’s also quite the social butterfly so she’s always finding ways to introduce you to all the people she knows

Of course the first of that long list of people was Mirio, Tamaki, and YuYu, whom she was ecstatic for you to meet

Thinks your interest in “childish” things is adorable!

Please show her your Calico Critters!! Tell her the names of your stuffed animals!!

She adores hearing you talk about it, since it’s something you enjoy!

Not to mention, she loves learning new things, so anything you know about what you collect is now information she needs to also know

She’ll be your biggest hype woman, but also knows when to take it down a notch if you’re really feeling insecure

Like, yeah, she can compliment you to heaven and back, but she’ll also jump on the opportunity to talk through these things with you if you need it

She’s the queen of reassurance, so if you’re ever worrying that someone doesn’t like you or as lost interest in you, she will straight up ask them for you if that’s what you want

She also won’t stand for you ever thinking she hates you

You are her world, she could never think lowly of you in any way, couldn’t even dislike you, you’re just too lovely

TL;DR, Do they have matching plushies? Indeed they do 😎

Misa Amane!

She has no idea how you could ever be insecure

I mean, she gets it’s, but she just doesn’t get it

You’re just absolutely amazing in her eyes

You’re good looking, strong willed, and you know,, can stand to hold a conversation with her

Will be more than willing to watch horror stuff with you

She loves it, but she understands how you might get paranoid, so she tries to keep the mood light

Making comments about how dumb the protagonists are, generally keeping you close as well

She absolutely will get you stuffed animals, but will really only get ones that appeal to her

She tends to forget the original intent was to make you smile

They may deviate from what you already have because of that

She likes things with patchwork, bats, darker stuff if you don’t like it, though, she will not hesitate to get you something else

She rarely bothers with other people, but she really thinks you’re the coolest

Tl;Dr, Idk what general aesthetic you have, but I’m imagining opposite aesthetics here and I love it

Gundham Tanaka!

Please take care of this dude because he will be taking absolute care of you

He will in fact be protecting you at all costs, you’re just too precious to him

He’s definitely one to compliment you when you’re feeling down, but he’s more focused on talking out your insecurities if only you’re comfortable of course

He knows what that can be like, having his own anxieties, and he knows that simple compliments and praises aren’t going to help as much as some people think

Especially if you’re not feeling that you’re going as good as you “should” be, he’ll make sure to remind you of all the amazing things you’ve accomplished

Loves your Calico Critters!

It’s a nice change of pace for him that you enjoy something so innocent and fun

They sort of confuse him, because he doesn’t see the purpose, but he just knows they make you happy so therefore they’re good in his book

He especially likes the hamsters, of course, though

Dude, he is the best at handling migraines

Light sensitivity? Mans already has blackout curtains. You feel nauseous? He’s got a handful of remedies on hand. Sensitive to sound? He’ll make sure to keep his voice low, and fight anyone that dares disrupt you.

His voice is also just really calming when he needs it to be, so if you just need a distraction he’d love to just ramble to you

We all know how socially awkward this man can be, so to be with someone so social can be a lot

He loves seeing you be outgoing and making conversation, though, even if it may not be for him all the time

Anywhere you decide to drag him, he certainly won’t be opposed to it

Tl;Dr, The Devas would also protect you with their life, don’t worry

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gershwinn · 5 years ago

Photo

LILI REINHART

The Riverdale babe talks Hustlers, J. Lo and refusing to be typecast for the Autumn 19 issue.

“I hope to just keep it interesting and definitely not play the same role twice,” Lili Reinhart says over the phone. “I think that would be the worst case scenario.” The Cleveland- born star, 22, has been a mainstay of the Wednesday night television since 2017, thanks to Archie Comics’ Riverdale, in which she plays high school student Betty Cooper. Hard pushed as she’d be to replicate her girl-next-door-who-brings-down-cults character from the soapy teen drama elsewhere, her next turn in 13th September’s Hustlers is a far cry from the ponytail-wearing teen.

Hitting the big screen alongside some of Hollywood’s biggest names — Jennifer Lopez, Constance Wu, Cardi B, Lizzo and more — Hustlers was born from Jessica Pressler’s 2015 New York Magazine article, “The Hustlers at Scores”. The story follows a group of women who emotionally, financially, and chemically manipulate men, drugging them with MDMA and ketamine — so they’d be happy, but also forget the details of their high-priced evening — to spend tens and hundreds of thousands of dollars at a strip club.

Reinhart originally read the script in an airport while flying from Los Angeles to Vancouver. The characters and their story captivated her – and after an hour- long FaceTime with the movie’s director and screenwriter, Lorene Scafaria, it was set. Reinhart had the role. “The synopsis of it did not do it justice,” she admits. “I was like, ‘What is this movie going to be about?’” When she realised Scafaria — writer of Nick and Nora’s Infinite Playlist and Seeking a Friend for the End of the World — was attached, she thought, “This is obviously much deeper than it appears to be on the outside”.

She liked that it was a story about women “trying to support themselves”. The women’s manipulation of the Wall Street money-making men in the film wasn’t “revenge” – for them, it was a means of survival. Whether it was to finance themselves, their grandparents and kids, or to take back what they thought belonged to them from the club, the hustlers wanted to redistribute the wealth. Ringleader Ramona’s excuse? Wall Street robbed the world in the 2008 crash, and most got away with it. And when you put it like that, well, it’s hard to argue.

Reinhart’s character Annabelle joins the scheme working with operation bosses Ramona (Lopez) and Destiny (Wu), as well as Mercedes (Keke Palmer). Annabelle is attracted to the “sisterhood” after being shunned from her own kin when they find out she’s a stripper, but the operation is uncomfortable for her – she throws up from all the mischief. “She was written as being the baby of the group, which she is,” Reinhart explains. “She looked to the other girls to take care of her a little bit. She clearly could take care of herself, but I think she certainly wasn’t the ringleader Ramona was. She let Ramona take her under her wing.”

Annabelle continues her participation with the crimes and gets caught up in her new “family” and the wealth her job brings. “She settles comfortably into this dangerous path of drugging these men, maybe not necessarily understanding the full consequences of what she was doing,” Reinhart says. “It was fun to play someone who doesn’t have their shit together… I was like, ‘This is a great opportunity to be a part of a film with a bunch of women who are experienced that I can look up to and a big feature film that I can play this naive, clueless girl.’”

Likeable as the characters are, Reinhart’s aware that sympathy is where the road to reason ends. “I don’t think you can ever sit back and defend these women for doing what they did,” she says. “You can understand, but you can’t go as far as justifying or defending it. What they did is illegal and wrong.” Not that that makes an underdog tale any less intoxicating (literally, in this case).

In a word, Reinhart’s more low-key than her Hustler ’s counterpart, using her time in NYC to “learn how to take the subway”, shop for vintage clothing, and get ice cream at 2 a.m. “I went to the Playboy Club,” she says, reminding me of her character momentarily. But it turns out her trip to the house of Hef was actually for Hustlers’ wrap party. “It was a little too loud for me,” she politely adds.

Pretending to be a girl who enjoys the club scene was a rather more enjoyable experience for Reinhart. “I really just had a good time being around the women and learning to be in a different environment, because I hadn’t done a film where I played a significant part for a while,” she says. “It was really nice to be on a film set again and Lorene as a director obviously was really wonderful in allowing all of us to share. It was very collaborative.” Scafaria encouraged the actors to ad lib and be a creative part of building their characters into more fully-realised people.

Though Reinhart feels like a staple on screen by now, Hustlers is actually the biggest film role she’s ever taken on. Understandably she’s excited about how people will react to seeing her in a different setting. “There’s so much hype for it,” she says. “[I’m] proud to have been a part of something like this, that was on such a big scale. I mean film is where my heart lies.” She adds, “There’s nothing quite like seeing your face in a movie theatre.”

Reinhart will see her name on screen not only as an actor, but as a producer too on her next movie, Amazon’s Chemical Hearts, due for release in 2020. Filmed right after Hustlers, she got in on the behind-the-scenes action as an executive producer. “That was really a passion project of mine, which luckily came together [timing-wise],” she says. “It’s cool to spearhead your own projects and really build something from the ground up. It makes things so much more special. You really just have such a drive to make things the best that they can be… I’m definitely going to try to be having more producing credits from here on out.”

She added buying a house in Los Angeles to her to-do list, too. Reinhart has lived in Vancouver for the last three years while shooting Riverdale but has had her heart set on LA since she first visited at 12 years-old. “I was just so in awe of the entertainment industry and how so much seems to be happening in that city,” she describes. “It was where the big movies were made, where the movie stars lived, where such history was, and film and television… It was a hard pill to swallow when I knew that I had to move to Vancouver to be on Riverdale because I had worked so hard and so long to make it to LA.”

I tell her she seems to be one step ahead of most of us 20-somethings (myself included) who are still trying to trace their trajectories. “I’m also still very much figuring things out,” she humbly replies, in what I’ve come to realise is a typically understated Lili fashion. “I know what I want, but I have no idea where I’m going to end up in a couple years… Things could go terribly wrong. Who knows?” Currently shooting season four of her hit show, and with Hustlers in theatres now, from here it looks like Reinhart’s name is only going to keep rising, with her feet planted firmly on the ground.

Source: Wonderland

#Such a great shoot!!!#one of my faves ever for sureeeeeee #lr #wonderland #also the interview!#love hearing lili's thought proces about hustlers #and her excitement for producing ch!#so proud of her #lr wonderland

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autumnslance · 5 years ago

Note

Hey, I'm gonna need you to give us a short story with Thancred teaching Aeryn how to gunbreaker now, specifically through dueling and close melee range.

((You’re just trying to enable me and get some trope-ridden, indulgent fic posted, huh? Well joke’s on you buddy, I already have a tropey, indulgent draft, though it’s from Heavensward patch era, featuring grumpy Thancred, amused Midgardsormr, and definitely a sparring match. Now on Ao3. So is the follow up.))

——-

“You’re avoiding me,” Aeryn said before Thancred could walk away.

“No,” he answered. “I have been busy. As have you. All of us, preparing for Ser Aymeric’s grand tournament.”

“Then let’s prepare,” she said. “Spar with me.”

“Perhaps later��”

She crossed her arms and glared. “Why? You’re lounging, so please don’t tell me you’re currently busy. I also checked with Tataru.”

Thancred closed his mouth to bite back the ready reply. “Why do you need to spar anyway? We all know you are going to win. ‘Tis what you do.”

She caught the bitterness he tried to hide. “Not always,” she answered. They did not look at each other for a long moment. “Anyroad, I shouldn’t get complacent. And you’re the best sparring partner.”

“Am I?” he asked. There might have been a hint of acid in his tone.

“None better. Absolute taskmaster.”

He snorted and pushed off the wall he was leaning on. “Well fine, if you’re going to be flattering.”

They made their way through the gates and across the Steps of Faith, the wind whipping at their clothes and hair. Aeryn watched him.

“What?” He asked.

“Aren’t you cold?” she asked. “After so many years in Thanalan, and you tend to wear lighter gear–”

“No,” Thancred said after a moment. “It is rather refreshing actually. And desert nights are chilly in their own way. Though I admit, I would not say no to an afternoon lounging in Vesper Bay’s square over crossing this bridge.”

“With overpriced orange juice from the Pissed Peiste?”

He did not reply, though for a moment it looked as if he might. He must have remembered he was angry, and wished to forgo banter. Aeryn suppressed a sigh.

“The tournament will be happening around here,” Thancred said as they reached the open plain beyond the Steps. The road stretched east and up toward Camp Dragonhead, clouds gathering over distant Xelphatol beyond the hills. Down to the west, she could barely make out the glint of Whitebrim’s towers.

“You will want to have a good idea of the ground,” he continued, crouching and peering across the open space. “Wouldn’t do to fall face first at some private’s feet because you tripped over a chinchilla’s burrow.”

“I think there’s a detail coming out to grade the area later today,” she said, drawing her rapier. “But that will just make it easier.”

“Hrmph.” He stood again, stretching as he did, then swinging his arms. “No doubt. Still; let us forgo magic for now. I want to see how you have worked on your swordsmanship these past few moons.”

“You’re sure you’re not cold?”

“I am limbering up,” he said, tone as cool as the air.

Aeryn shrugged. If he wanted to be that way. She was about to start her own stretches when Thancred suddenly dashed at her, blades drawn, making her bring her own up to meet them and immediately putting her on the defensive, forcing her back a few steps.

“Do your enemies announce when they’re ready?” He snarled, testing her defenses. He was mostly using his long Allagan blade, but she kept an eye on his smaller off-hand weapon; he had changed how he fought during his time in the wilderness.

Before, he had fought with a single sword, or matched short blades. His style had been flamboyant, even to the point of showing off, as a way to obfuscate his strikes and baffle his foes. As he pushed Aeryn across the clearing, she noted he still fought with flair and panache not found in most combatants–yet seemed more direct, less reliant on feints and misdirection than in the past. There was nothing wasteful in his movement, for all they flowed like a dance.

She could admit she was a bit envious.

And still on the back foot, godsdammit. She tried a parry Haurchefant had taught her, and gained back a few steps. A few quick strikes practiced with Lucia put Thancred on the defensive, and she caught him briefly grin.

“Mayhap your flirting across Coerthas has done you well after all,” he said, a sharp edge to the teasing.

“What?” Aeryn demanded. How dare he, he knew her better than—

The Echo’s warning came a moment too late as he spun away from her riposte, running his blade along the length of hers until with a flick of his wrist, her sword was caught, her arm twisted back as he stepped behind her, his offhand coming up to rest lightly against her throat.

“You’re easily distracted,” his voice rumbled low in her ear.

Aeryn turned her head to retort, but the words stuck when their eyes met and she was suddenly, intensely aware of being pressed against him, back to chest, their breathing heavy from the exercise and nearly in time with one another. They were close to the same height–he was only perhaps two ilms taller–so their faces were close, his brown eye strangely hooded and his lips were right there as he leaned in and gods why was she even thinking that…

They were close enough she could taste his breath, their lips barely brushing. Her eyes closed of their own accord, in anticipation of further pressure.

“…No,” he breathed, and she was suddenly spun, like when they used to dance to entertain the other Scions in that time Before Ul’dah.

Aeryn and Thancred stood in the snow, staring at one another. “That’s enough for today,” he said brusquely. “If you stay focused, you should do well enough against the Grand Companies.”

“Thancred…”

He turned away. “I apologize; that was an inappropriate distraction.”

She stared at his back for a long moment. Before he could turn his head to look, she cleared her throat. “Nothing to apologize for,” Aeryn said shortly. “All’s fair, as they say.”

“…Quite,” he replied, though sounded strange. “I believe I am rather cold after all, and will retire to the Forgotten Knight for some of Gibrillont’s mulled wine.”

She waited for him to add more, to invite her along, to offer to discuss whatever the seven hells that had been, but he walked on toward the gate. To be fair, though, she couldn’t quite manage to make those offers herself.

Aeryn watched him go, then continued to practice; not as effective as with a partner, but better than nothing, and she wouldn’t be returning to the city with him and the continued air of awkwardness.

“Thou art restless,” Midgardsormr’s voice rumbled from her left. Aeryn paused, looking over to see the small dragonet form of the ancient wyrm sitting upon a nearby stone.

“There is much to prepare for tomorrow,” she answered, returning to her drills.

“Yet there is spare time for courtship rituals?”

Aeryn fumbled mid-maneuver, nearly dropping her rapier. She blinked at him. “What? No! That was…we were sparring. Practicing, for tomorrow’s tournament.”

The dragonet tilted his head. “‘Tis not what it appeared, but mortals are strange.”

She only grunted a response and returned to her ready stance. Feint, riposte, zwerchhau…

“He is strong and skilled,” Midgardsormr continued, in a musing tone. “As I recall, such qualities are sought after, as mortals require physical mating to pass on–

“Midgardsormr,” Aeryn hissed–after stumbling again, her face on fire.

He flapped his tiny wings, and she swore he was grinning. “I was but making an observation, child, and musing on the differences between thy kin and mine own. Draconic mating is a melding of mind and spirit, rather than the flesh.”

“I am aware,” Aeryn said tightly, trying to not snap at the Father of Dragons. This was not helping take her mind off that almost-kiss. She was certain, too, the elder knew that.

There was a shift in the dragonet’s stance, and his deep black eyes now watched her closely, the hint of mirth faded. “Thou hath enjoyed the man’s companionship in the past.’Twould seem since his return, you have been at odds.”

Aeryn sheathed her blade; she was getting no further exercise in today. “…Yes,” she finally answered him. “‘Twould seem that way. I…failed to save the person he entrusted to my care, and then I failed to bring her back.”

Midgardsormr shook his head. “She but followed thy Mother’s call, and made her own choice. There was naught for thee to do upon the matter. Thou shouldst not blame thyself–Nor bear blame from others.” The last came with a slight warning growl.

“I…I don’t know if he does or not,” she admitted. “We’ve worked together, and he was honestly concerned when I was poisoned…And…” Her back pressed to his chest, his eye looking into hers, their lips not even an ilm apart. “…I’m likely imagining things, that’s all.”

That had to be it. A simple distraction, as he had said. She mustn’t read into it.

“Hrmph,” Midgardsormr rumbled. “How thy people have propagated when capable of such self-delusion is one of life’s great mysteries.”

She glowered at him. “Which of us is the expert at mortals, actually being one? You’re mistaken. Thancred is known for his flirtations and distractions; that is all it was. Naught more.”

The dragonet stretched, and made a motion almost akin to a shrug. “Thy protestations are noted,” he responded, before fading out in a puff of aether.

Aeryn rubbed her forehead. She could still sense his rumbling chuckle in the back of her mind. Once she was more or less composed–or at least no longer felt as if her face would set fire to the Gates of Judgment when she passed through them–she made her way back to the city.

—

What in the seven bloody hells had he been thinking?

Thancred ran a hand over his face as he nursed his mulled wine. The problem, of course, was that he had not been thinking. Caught in the rhythm of their sparring match, he had reacted on instinct, and she was right there and…

Inappropriate, he reminded himself. For so very many reasons. He knew at one point he had had a list, the first time he had bucked this ridiculous notion of an interest in the woman who had become their Warrior of Light.

There was one; the champion of the realm could certainly do better than a grizzled, magicless rogue.

There was another; since his misadventure in the Lifestream and being left in Dravania’s wilderness without magic, he now looked and felt closer to his actual age of thirty-two winters. Still young enough to do his job, but it seemed a decent gap against her twenty-six. She was even younger than–

That thought made him slug down a too-large gulp of too-hot wine. It helped focus the pain and gave an excuse for the tears threatening to appear as he coughed, waving away the bartender.

Aeryn had looked him in the eye and nodded when he had told her “whatever it takes” and yet…

That was not fair, and not part of the list, though he couldn’t help the anger, the grief, the shame at lying to F'lhaminn.

He retired to the small room in Cloud Nine that Tataru had rented for him. Laying in bed staring at the ceiling, he found his mind wandering back to the sparring match. How Aeryn felt pressed against him, how she smelled, how her grey eyes had darkened and then closed as their lips nearly touched…Godsdammit.

He could always blame spending time alone in the wilderness for how easily distracted he was by a pretty woman, colleague or not.

That Aeryn had seemed willing did not help; it would have been easier if she had pushed him away, cursed at him, reminded him that she did not experience such base attractions. A voice whispered that did not negate a desire for intimacy, and there were those rumors of her and the knight. He told that voice to shut up as he rolled over. But his imagination continued, conjuring images of furthering that kiss, of pressing closer, his fingers tangling in her fine black hair, the taste of her…

The aftertaste of mulled wine on his own tongue remembered the bite he had smelled in the fallen cup at Falcon’s Nest, her lying on the floor as chaos reigned outside, and the feeling of his heart in his throat at the idea of Aeryn poisoned.

Perhaps that was why he was in such a strange mood, he decided. Fear for his friend’s life, even as he was still grieving Minfilia.

Satisfied, he turned his mind to a mummer’s breathing exercise, a trick to fall asleep quickly, forcing his mind to still so he could rest.

—-

((There’s a lemony solo-Thancred follow-up to this too.))

#Final Fantasy XIV #Heavensward #Thancred Waters #Thancred x WoL #Midgardsormr #Lyn Writing #Shippy Nonsense #Aeryn Striker #tension #mutual pining #Dragon Dad is the best #hope this satisfies #and hope the read more works #temperjoke

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chloe-clegane · 5 years ago

Text

My Devotion and Mah Protection - Chapter 6

We This Night Are Bound As One

AO3

Prev Chapter

Next Chapter

Dress Illustration

Music

----------

Callum could feel himself sweating as he muttered the script to himself. Any moment now, he would be walking up onto that platform and performing a sealing ritual. The anxiety had him wishing he could crawl out of his skin.

Ezran cocked his head to one side and made a face. “Callum, you look like you’re going to vomit, then pass out from not breathing, and then maybe vomit again.” His aunt backed up his brother’s statement and signed for him to take deep breaths.

He did as he was told and tried to match his inhale and exhales to the pace of her hand gliding up and down, up and down.

“Ok better, wow that helped. How much longer? I haven’t seen her since yesterday morning. Ezran, look around the henge. S-she’s there right? She wouldn't change her mind right?”

The more Callum spoke the more the anxiety moved back into his voice.

“Noooooo,” his brother whined. “She hasn’t changed her mind. I think now we’re just waiting on the music and lights. So any minute?”

Amaya agreed with Ezran again signing, “ Yes , she loves you, and she’s right over there. So just take calming breaths.” She continued to coax inhale-exhale motions.

“Cool, cool, cool as a cucumber, so cool.” Callum failed to convincingly be cool. He instead went back to muttering all the steps and words of the ritual while rocking on his heels. There was no officiant for the ceremony, and he was determined not to make an ass of himself.

The drums of the Moonshadow Druids started to beat softly and the soft glowing orbs began to float from between the towering stones. His aunt squeezed his shoulder one more time and Callum took another deep breath as he got into position, standing behind his aunt and brother. They passed through the great stone pillars and approached the circle. The drums grew louder with every step they took. Callum’s view was partially obstructed by his aunt’s height, but he could still see over his thirteen-year-old brother. He looked over and spotted Ethari stepping up into the light opposite them, Rayla was completely blocked from view behind him.

The family of three took their final steps to the edge of the platform and the deafening drumming fell silent, creating a vacuum. Ezran, in his most regal voice began speaking, his aunt signed in unison. “We are kin to Prince Callum of Katolis, we deliver him this night to be wed.”

They both stepped to either side and Callum took a step forward. As he turned back, they handed him an intricately woven silk band. He let out the breath he was holding and took the last two steps up to the outer ring. Callum went through a list in his head: smile, stand up straight, breathe, don’t lock my knees, close my mouth, breathe. Breathe.

He was fully in the light of the clearing and orbs bounced on the perimeter resembling swirling fireflies. But the main source of light was the moon itself. Somehow it seemed bigger and brighter here at the Nexus.

Ethari’s voice, much like Ezran’s, was puffed up and projected, but retained its usual gentleness. “I am kin tae Rayla of the Silvergrove, Daughter of Tiadrin and Lain, I deliver her this night tae be wed.” He stepped aside and Callum’s entire don’t look like an idiot checklist went out the window.

She was radiant.

Everything about her was otherworldly, she was the most beautiful creature that ever lived and Callum would fight anyone who tried to disagree. Not only was she beautiful, but she was also smiling at him, a perfect, pure smile. He saw her eyes and they were on him, and only him. She looked like the definition of love.

At this point, Callum knew he must look ridiculous, a wide smile spread across his face. She turned momentarily and his heart almost broke from the deprivation of her beauty. Divine countenance. Ethari handed her two rings and hugged her. She kissed his cheek. When she looked at Callum, she glided into the illuminated circle the demure sweet smile changed. Suddenly Callum had to ask himself, is that how goofy I look? But he realized that blushing wide smile, the one where she looked like she was going to squeal at any moment, was better. She wasn’t just some ethereal goddess, she was his steadfast weirdo goddess, his Rayla. And in that dress, he wanted to worship at her altar. Hard.

Her dress was fitted close to her body, the skirt flowed in pleats with slits from the hip on either side. The slits were high enough for him to be very excited but low enough to be tasteful. The collar was high with a cut out above the bust, there were band-like sleeves on her arms but her shoulders were bare .The dress was covered in beading that coruscated in the light, the whole dress was white in the human style.

Callum had expected to see intricate braids, but her hair was simple. Beautiful. Topped with a moon opal hairpiece connecting a web of crystal and silver glittering beads woven between her horns, one strand hung across her brow like a tiara. As she moved her head the beads swayed and reflected light.

She knocked him out of his reverie by shooting him her trademark ‘pay attention you big dumb human’ face. She subtly emphasized that fact her arms were up in position. Even her annoyed looks were perfect, absolutely divine. He lifted his arms and they shared a smile and a deep breath in unison. They began to dance, accompanied by the clear cascading sound of a harp. They dance around the circle and then into each other’s arms. As soon as they touched he had to resist the urge to kiss her right away and from the look on her face, Callum could only assume she was fighting a similar urge. She stroked his hand with her thumb and they shared another breath.

“I, Prince Callum of Katolis, come to pledge my abiding love to you, Rayla of the Silvergrove. I promise my devotion, my respect, and my generosity. I vow to fortify you in adversity and honor you in your triumphs. I will cherish and adore you and swear my loyalties to you and our kin from now until my dying day. Rayla, will you take me?

“I do.” Her answer was clear and confident. He took the ring meant for her and slipped it onto her middle finger. This was strictly a human tradition but she had been happy to include it and excited to wear it. She told him she liked the idea of showing him off even if it was just with one finger. Her violet eyes were glassy and he squeezed her hand before she started her speech. “I, Rayla of the Silvergrove, accept your pledge and offer mah own fierce love in return. I promise you mah protection, mah appreciation, and mah affection. I vow to give you honesty in happiness and despair, and to support you in your toils. I will treasure you and love you. I swear mah loyalties to you and our kin from now until my dying day. Callum, will you take me?

She quickly wiped away the few tears she let slip, while he, on the other hand, allowed the tears to roll down his cheeks. Rayla wiped them away herself and cupped his cheek, he leaned into her touch and projected, “I do.” When she went to slide the ring on his middle finger, he wiggled his ring finger, she blushed and course-corrected.

She was his blushing bride, looking up at him with her glowing lavender eyes. He had to remind himself they weren’t done, all that was left was the ritual portion. Just one more step before he could pull Rayla close and officially be hers, for the rest of their days.

He handed her part of the silk band with the runes woven into the fabric. Together they wrapped the band, loosely attaching themselves to one another. They spoke in unison “Love is the Moon, guiding in the darkness. We this night are joined as kin, we this night are bound as one”.

Again, they danced, moving with the flowing stream of the harp . They had spent hours practicing this dance and when they finished he could hardly believe that he had done it without a single mistake. The goal of the ritual was to complete the steps without tangling the band. They had to move intuitively together, maneuvering as one.

When they struck the last pose they spoke the actual spell, “love bound” in draconic, the silk binding burst into glowing dust that swirled up and dispersed above their heads, like glitter. The sensation of the spell was like nothing he’d ever felt. For just a moment he could feel her heart. It was indescribable.

Now, finally, they threw themselves into each other’s arms. He pulled her face to his and they kissed with vigor. They broke apart and said, “I love you,” simultaneously. He spun her around while they both laughed. The elation he felt at that moment was palpable. All the guests were clapping and from somewhere in the back Soren could be heard howling, “Whoooooo! Yeah! You did it!”

------

Immediately after the ceremony, Rayla and Callum walked hand in hand out of the henge and down the long winding path to the buildings below. Part way, Rayla stopped so she could take the stupid human coin out of her shoe. Callum chuckled and did the same.

“What dae we need lucky riches for anyways? Ye’re a prince, doesn’t that mean you already have that?”

Callum laughed and raised his hands in defense “Hey I didn’t make up the shoe coin thing and anyways It’s supposed to bring prosperity, not just money. I just so happen to think prosperity would be handy for a lot of things.”

Rayla rolled her eyes and smiled at him trying to quickly replace the shoe without halting the train of people “Not convinced. But sure I’ll humor you.” She grabbed his hand as they kept walking. “I’m starvin’, dae you suppose snack prosperity is a thing?”

“Hmmmm,” he pondered, tapping his chin for comedic effect “Should we have put deviled eggs in our shoes then?”

She made a face “Honestly Callum… I think the coin’s’a better idea than that.”

“What about kissing prosperity? That sounds real,” He leaned in and stole one from her lips.

She giggled. “Maybe so, but I’m not kissin’ yer shoes tae find out”.

“Fair, shoes are kind of gross. But hey, I’ll kiss your face! All day, every day, until forever.” He leaned into her and kissed her shoulder and then her cheek.

“Ugh, yer so cute.” She whined. “Have I said how much I love you today?”

“You know what? I think you might have, in a very formal, magically binding kind of way, if I’m remembering correctly.” he teased.

“Oh yes , that’s right. Hmmm well I’ll still, just fer good measure,” She walked backwards in front of him “I love you Callum.” and then she bit her lip, in the flirty way she knows he loves.

“That’s it. I have to ensure kiss prosperity, I love you too much to risk it.” He lunged for her and she stepped aside. He laughed.

“Oh no, not the kissin’ prosperity! The price is just too high Callum , ” she put the back of her hand to her forehead and gasped dramatically.

“Rayla, you must give me your foot. Kissing prosperity is too important, it’s a price I’m willing to pay. I’m very serious” He was not very serious.

“Yer going tae have tae catch me first, you filthy human!” She turned and bolted away with a skip in her step.

“Hey! That’s filthy ‘husband’ to you,” he pointed at her indignantly before he chased her down the path, both of them cackling like idiots.

When they arrived at the bottom of the hill, she allowed him to jokingly kiss the top of her foot. But then he took advantage of the slit in her skirt and kissed his way up to her knee. Setting it down quickly, the line of party guests started to catch up with them. She didn’t think kissing prosperity would be an issue, because she had already lost count of them.

At the reception they presented each other with the elven wedding bands. Callum slid the cuffs onto her horns and then lifted her chin to kiss her sweetly. It made her knees weak. She was a big bad warrior that could be brought down with just those green eyes and soft lips. It was a fact about herself she both loved and hated… but mostly loved.

Ethari had thought of a clever solution for Callum’s lack of horns. It had taken a bit of convincing before Callum agreed to let her pierce his ears. A little over a month ago she practically had to sit on his chest so she could get the needle through the cartilage on the stubby round top of his ear. The second ear was much easier once he realized he didn’t need to be such a whiny baby about it. Her eye rolling ran rampant. She fastened the wedding bands as gently as possible. He did much better this go’round only wincing slightly as she placed the two wide cuff earring in the still healing holes. She secured the pin closure and admired her handy work. He was adorable and she loved making their bond so clear to the world. She was so proud to love him.

They kissed again and people ooohed and ahhhhed. It was bizarre to receive so much praise for public displays of affection. Before she could make her way over to the food Callum grabbed her wrist with one hand and pointed at her with the other. And of all things yelled “THAT’S MY WIFE!”

“Woooooo!” Soren yelled in reply. When he released her to walk away, he then high fived his brother.

“What are you-?” She rolled her eyes and chuckled.

The feast was held in the style of her people. Low tables were surrounded with cushions and small portions of food were carried around by illusions. Some of the human guests were confused, used to large banquet tables and huge plates, not everyone grasped the concept. She saw the King of Del Bar take an entire tray of bite-sized meat skewers and then walked around with it, befuddled as if he should take an entire tray of stuffed mushrooms as well. Rayla hid her mirth until she was able to point it out to Ezran and Queen Aanya, there was giggling.

As they walked around greeting guests, people praised her looks or her dancing in the ceremony. Callum would lean into the person, point at her and then say, “that’s my wife.” It was becoming a little ridiculous.

She patted his linked arm “Callum I think they know.”

He shrugged and she rolled her eyes… again. He was a complete mystery to her sometimes. This didn’t seem like some human thing, this just seemed like a goofy Callum thing.

They lounged back on cushions at their private table and fed each other food and cake, kissing between bites. They had picked the menu, and the couple was very pleased with themselves. Rayla checked another box. Snack prosperity seemed to be working, squishy shoe or not. Callum received the deviled eggs he had been pining for all week and she got her stuffed bacon dates. They nibbled happily, enjoying every bite - until Soren used a table as a platform and started clanking a glass.

He cleared his throat loudly. “Excuse me, everyone, excuse me!”

People stopped what they were doing to pay attention. “Hello everyone, thank you. I would like to make a toast.”

“Oh no,” Rayla was filled with sudden dread and pushed on Calum's arm, “go, stop him. Oooooooh no, this is bad.” She moved to get up but her husband’s chuckle stopped her. He spoke softly in her ear, “Aw, come on Rayla, Soren’s our friend! Let’s let him have his moment. I’m sure he’ll say something really sweet.” He kissed her cheek.

“I’m tellin’ you Callum this is not going tae end well,” she hissed. Soren started speaking and she forced her mouth shut, looking on with dread.

“So, I’ve known Callum basically forever. I used to be his sword fighting teacher, and oh boy was he bad at that.” She shot her husband an ‘I told you so’ look. He returned a nervous smile “It’s fine though, now he’s got the magic stuff going for him. Zap hands and all that. My buddy here is really cool.” Callum gave her an apologetic look, maybe it won’t be so bad .

“More importantly I’m glad he’s got Rayla going for him. She’s the best! She’s even cooler than Zap Hands. She’s probably the best thing in his whole life”.

Rayla smirked, he was right about that at least. She was about to breathe a sigh of relief, but then it took a turn for the worst. “The first time I met her, I tried to kill her... while she was sleeping…” aaaaaand the smirk was gone.

There was a very awkward silence, and the blond idiot took another big sip from his glass. It occurred to Rayla that that was not his first big sip and maybe not his first glass either. She tried not to groan out loud.

“So uh anyways, didn’t kill her, for the record. But I guess you already know that - because she’s alive and stuff. But also for the record, I still think the mud in my mouth was kind of a cheap shot,” he laughed at his own memory. “Gross. So yeah, I think we’ve all grown so much as people since then. I still remember Callum as this dweeb who used to fall in the mud all the time. I never would have thought you could get a wife this cool.”

This time Rayla did groan aloud, and Callum, who originally smiled politely, was now glaring at their friend.

“I don’t think he’s a dork anymore, though. I still feel bad about all those times I used to make fun of him and hurt his feelings. But you know, I really only did it because my dad didn’t love me,” he paused and frowned. He looked down into his empty cup. “I think I just hurt my own feelings…”

Rayla covered her eyes. This was too hard to watch.

There wasn’t a cringe-free face in the crowd. “I feel like I lost the point here a bit. But uh, aren't they just the best though?” Some people nodded in agreement, taking slow bites as they watched the things play out. “Rayla is strong, and really funny, and cool. Callum is so nice and he’s smart and, like I said before. Zap hands. Pew-pew!” He gestured with what appeared to be magic hands. “What I'm trying to say is they’re really awesome and I’m really glad they’re married. Also Callum, you bagged a hottie. I’m proud of you, bud.” He winked.

“Hey, okay ! ” Ezran climbed onto the table beside their friend and patted his back “Soren, that was so... great! Give it up for Soren everyone.” A few people clapped awkwardly.

“Aw, thanks Ez! Oh hey Amaya,” he said as Callum’s aunt reached up to give the big dumb oaf a hand off the table. She then proceeded to guide him to a plate of bready carbohydrates. Rayla figured a few glasses of water wouldn’t hurt either.

Ezran was a natural public speaker soo when he started people listened.

“I’ll keep my speech brief.” He smiled over at Rayla and Callum. “I have the world's best brother. Growing up, he always looked out for me and loved me unconditionally. Well, now he’s given me a sister too and Soren was right, she is so amazing. The best part is, I know my brother has someone who looks out for him, who loves him, and makes him feel special and happy. A partner.” At this point, Callum reached over and took her hand. They shared a smile before turning back. “Rayla, I’m so happy you're my sister and I want you to know I think our parents would have been happy to have you as a daughter. I think they would be as proud as I am to have you in our family. So, everyone, please raise your glasses to Rayla and Callum!”

The whole party raised their glasses and toasted them. Rayla was grateful for Ezran’s smooth recovery from Soren’s debacle.

The soft music sped up into a lively tune and it was time to dance. Callum laughed as she pulled him onto the dancefloor. When they began to spin and jump, she loved the way it felt, the silk skirt swirling around her and the beads decorating her hair and horns swung and jingled. It was strange to her, feeling beautiful. Rayla had been skeptical of the white dress, she thought having only one color would be boring, but when the dressmaker described the idea for the swirling patterns of beads, it intrigued her. But she wasn’t prepared for the final result, it was stunning. One color became a glistening rainbow in the right light. It was the most elegant thing she’d ever seen. The first time she tried it on she felt like a fish out of water, an ugly duck, she had been terrified she wouldn’t be able to pull it off. But hours before the wedding, when Ethari placed her mother's hair piece on her head, she shed tears. Tears for her mother, tears for

the heirloom, tears of excitement, and tears of overwhelming joy.

She felt like she was floating. Callum watched her dance with a certain look in his eye. It wasn't the licentious prince grin. It was a different look of desire, and it stole her breath away. He wanted her, and she wanted him in return. It wasn’t just the dress that made her feel beautiful, but rather the way he looked at her. He saw her in a way no one ever had, and because of that she was able to see herself in a new way. She couldn’t imagine what her life would be like, what she as a person would be like, without the way he looked at her. He’d told her countless times that she made his life better by just being in it. It was mutual.

Rayla spun again and again, and she met his eyes every time her head came around and the entire world melted away. His hand guided her waist, grazing it and, like the turning of a grindstone, sent sparks across her skin.

When the song finally came to a close, they clung to each other. She held his face in her hands and kissed him and then tucked his hair back “I love you, mah sweet darlin’ Callum. Dae you want tae, uhh,” she gestured off the dancefloor with a jerk of her head. He agreed smiling but when she snuck them past the dancing and all the way out of the bustling party, he seemed confused.

She pulled him just out of sight behind a tree. “I love you so fuckin’ much Callum.” She pressed him against the tree and their tongues spoke passion instead of words. She sighed as he ran his hands up her exposed legs. His hands were warm and wanting. The kissing prosperity was seemingly endless.

When they snuck back a few minutes later, his loving torture knew no bounds. While she danced in a group without him, she completed an acrobatic jump with ease and some of the humans looked very impressed. She was bashful, and she didn’t think much of it, but then Callum from the side of the dance floor got on a table. Why do all the humans keep jumping on tables? she asked herself, frustrated. Then he pointed at her and she muttered, “ Oh no, not again .”

“THAT’S MY WIFE!” he yelled it proudly and laughed. She hid her face in her hands, her cheeks were pink, but she smiled. When she looked up, she narrowed her eyes and shot her uncle a glare. Ethari high-foured Callum as he jumped down. Despite her frequent admonishments over the years that he shouldn’t humor Callum’s human follies, he always did it anyways.

He was too adorable for her to be annoyed with him, not for long anyways. She was too in love with him to feel anything negative about him for long. She pulled him back on the dancefloor after that. The music of the fiddles and drums set a joyful mood. She and Callum took turns dancing with everyone. Rayla even agreed to dance with Soren, who had sobered up a bit. She punched him in the arm when the song ended in revenge. She and Ezran laughed their entire dance - he was terrible at it, but they had a great time. But Rayla did notice Ezran dance with Ellis multiple times, she and bait were his only other partners. Amaya and Janai participated in just one circle dance. It was cute seeing them blush through the steps trying to loosen up. Aanya attempted some of the lifts and jumps and did well, the young queen was always impressing her. Ethari and she danced expertly together. This is what the rest of her life was going to feel like and she was going to enjoy every moment of it.

For a couple more hours, she and Callum ate, danced, toasted, and laughed with their family and friends. The kissing prosperity was prosperous.

Callum held her face and kissed her, “You are my wife,” he whispered. She laughed, giving him a playful shove. It was time to take her sweet revenge. She walked away from him, climbed on top of a table, and yelled into the crowd, pointing for everyone to see and hear, “THAT’S MAH HUSBAND!”

It was the happiest night of Rayla’s life.

#My Devotion and Mah Protection Our Love #my fics #rayllum fic #older rayllum #rayllum #Rayla #Callum #Wedding #tipsy speeches #Soren hurt his own feelings #kissing prosperity #cool as a cucumber #deviled eggs #THAT'S MY WIFE #the dragon prince #My Devotion and Mah Protection

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danganronpedits-archived · 4 years ago

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Hello! Is it possible to get a kin matchup for Yttd and danganronpa (Dra and Sdra2 as well maybe)? I would consider myself nice, and I also get really nervous when talking to new people, but outgoing with friends. I always feel like others know me better than myself. And I can't really stand up for myself, but I'm working on it! And lots of times, I take jokes literally, and get confused a lot. (I'm sorry if this is too much! Wish you best of days ^-^)

i can definitely get this done for you, anon! hehe... you seem really nice, from this ask, so thank you for requesting! it’s not too much at all, so don’t worry~ without further ado... it’s matchup time! (this is 4am tsu warning everyone for rambles and general nonsense)

first off, from your turn to die, i match you with...

kanna kizuchi!

out of everyone on this list, you probably remind me of kanna the most! first off, your vibes are chaotically hers- i cannot explain it but the little ^-^ is just. so her. i can’t explain it. also, you both are definitely people i’d consider nice(even if it’s just from this ask and this ask alone), and are trying to be kind as well- and she was definitely more closed off at the beginning of the game. i would say that while she’s not exactly outgoing, she does get more outspoken as the game goes on, and therefore as she gets closer with the other characters. she also gets better at standing up for herself- plus, it might be a bit strange to say, but i think that you could become more outspoken, like she becomes, as your own growth goes on. both of you are working on it, and... i believe in you, anon!

oh, also, i think that kanna does kind of struggle to get jokes sometimes- more specifically that she tends to believe in people and not really getting their nuances. that’s not to say that i think you or her are less intelligent, or anything, but english is hardTM and i totally get where you’re coming from with it. with both of you, i think a lot of it is caring about others and not wanting them to be hurtful, whether to themselves or to others, and that can come first for both of you- ah, sorry, i rambled a bit. but that’s just what i think, haha... and also! kanna does kind of seem not-that-good at seeing herself through an objective lens. especially since, well, it’s not *really* spoilers, but especially since she tends to blame herself for a lot of the things going on in the death game. i don’t blame her, she’s elementary school age and the death game is very traumatic, but this can skewer her self perception a lot- and while i don’t think you’ve been in a death game, it’s still a relatable experience to have your own self worth alter your self image.

from danganronpa, i match you with...

chihiro fujisaki!

i’ve completely forgotten how to write these! this is a comedic and smooth segue! to start off, i think both you and chihiro are rather timid around other people at first. sweet and polite, definitely, but it takes a bit to warm up to others. while i wouldn’t say chihiro is exactly outgoing, they become a lot more enthusiastic and willing to speak up whenever they’re more comfortable around other people, and i mean... both of you seem very nice, like genuinely good people. you know? plus, pardon my rambling, but a lot of chihiro’s arc and backstory is not knowing or being comfortable with themselves. in fact, a lot of their whole character is that they base their self image on what others think of them- as well as, of course, not being able to stand up for themselves.

although their arc gets, um... cut short, they were working on this though. and like with kanna, i think that both you and chihiro can reach that more confident stage as you go along your path of personal growth. with chihiro’s more timid and cautious nature, they can tend to take jokes a bit too seriously and literally, only to feel bad after doing so afterwards- i wouldn’t be surprised if you share that with them. plus, while they are very smart, a lot of other people’s actions seem like they can’t exactly understand- i think that they tend to get lost in their world of numbers and programs a lot, as well as stuck in their own head. this can make them a little oblivious to the world around them and again, i don’t know you personally, but wouldn’t be surprised if you do something similar.

and lastly, from the fangans, i match you with...

iroha nijiue!

this was a hard decision- once again, will be elaborated on in the tags, but this was gonna be kanata at one point... anyways! both you and iroha seem very sweet, friendly, and like you want to get along with everyone and make them all happy. that was the biggest thing that jumped out at me- she is also somewhat, uh, low, in the self love category. she’s definitely someone who’s lived her life based on what others want or expect from her, so i wouldn’t be surprised if you both have a similar self image. she is definitely a worrier(the sprite i chose... is fitting for this part, haha.), from what i’ve seen, but she does try to be kind and she can get into rambles about her art. the worrying comes back in whenever she realises that she’s rambling, of course, but she can be more outgoing and opinionated at times too!!

she’s also kind of bad at reading the room too, i think, and this is similar to the other two characters’ reasons- all three of them, and perhaps you, tend to get stuck in your own heads. which is totally understandable, but it’s just something they all have in common! she can also get confused at times(once again... the sprite. the vibe is perfect), at least from what i’ve seen, and while she can get conflicted in what she wants to be versus what she wants to do, i do think that she wants to grow and change as a person into someone better. that’s of course not to say she’s a bad person, i think that she’s very sweet and tried to be a good person, but she’s still growing and working out her wrinkles, and with this comes working on being able to stand up for herself respectfully more. like with the rest of the characters, both of you have your own journeys to go on, and both of you can really become something great with a bit of time.

time for minor matchups! it’s a cute title, but probably a placeholder. anyways! this one’s a bit long, so it’ll be more divided.

from the fangans, you also remind me a bit of akane taira, somewhat of kanade otokonoji, and very strongly of kanata inori! from yttd, you also remind me somewhat of gin ibushi, nao egokoro, and sara chidouin, as well as a bit of mai tsurugi! and lastly, from danganronpa, you also remind me of sayaka maizono, and a bit of mikan tsumiki and tsumugi shirogane!

haha... i mean, that’s basically just girls. aah and i feel like there were so many minor ones... sorry if that’s a problem, anon! but i hope this was helpful asdjfjsdf... please remember that you know best!

-mod tsu, who’s now going to bed because if i stay up any later my friends will get mad at me asfjdkjfjsgfkdjs

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twitchesandstitches · 5 years ago

Text

Story commission for Clonecomando, who asked for Arcee from Transformers Prime turning into a super busty giantess alongside Airachnid!

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The moon, as far as they knew, had no name. Arcee knew well that so much had been lost in the war for Cybertron and its fall, the senseless destruction waged by the Decepticons wiping out eons of hard-won knowledge, history and cultural memory.

In the years since the end of the war, the rebirth of Cybertron and the reunion of all the scattered Autobots, figuring out what they actually had at hand was the important thing, and normally a moon would be fairly low on that list, save that over the past few months it had been sending out stronger power signatures, nearly blacking out some of the orbital scanners, and when Arcee had asked permission to investigate and bring Jack with her as part of his training, Optimus (nearly bedridden after the strain he suffered reactivating the Allspark) had agreed.

Arcee was mildly surprised to find that the moon had an atmosphere, its metal surface of the same biomechanical form as Cybertron, and as far as they could tell, uninhabited. At least, there were no visible dwelling signs, and no buildings or evidence of survivors holding up here, like in some of the cities that had been protected by Sub-Commander Grimlock during the exodus.

Nevertheless, as she and Jack approached a strangely artificial site, she felt watched, and remained on high alert.

(And, in the distance, they were watched.

The great hulking masses of Insecticon hive-soldiers waited beneath the metal soil. Templated descendants of the Bombshell, the Hardshell, and the Kickback - most of them, Hardshell kin, but Bombshells vlew and Kickbacks waited to spring into action - lurked in the shadows, shying away from the light.

Most of them, particularly those who had been most recently supped upon by the Mistress, were burned by the light. It seared hot, piercing through their frames and their altered Sparks screaming at its touch. Fear moved in their fuel lines now, need and desire subordinating all higher impulses save the voice of the Mistress.

She was the hive queen, and her will shaped them, gave them purpose, protected them from the terror.

Her thoughts moved through them, and she flew above them in the shape of a flying vehicle from a distant world; a long, bulky thing with a rotating saw crowning it. They felt her curiosity, and she saw through their eyes as her rival, and her rival’s prized subordinate, came upon a strange ruin. They spoke to each other for a time, about this evidence of habitation, and that it was old indeed. The Mistress had said as much in the past.

And the Mistress watched, and she waited. Here, her thoughts said to the hive, was her own way into its secrets, at last.

The blue Autobot placed her hand upon the wall, and it seemed to her surprise as much as anyone’s, a wall slid away and revealed a passageway.

Into it, the two went. The Insecticons waited obediently as the Mistress radiated curiosity and interest as she followed, crawling along the walls like the predator she was. The hive obeyed her commands, and retreated. And alone, she followed after her prey into the dark.)

-----

Arcee led the way down the ancient steps. More accurately, she grabbed the hand of the mech Jack operated to stay on her level and she dragged him behind her, the stumpy legs of his mech waddling fast to keep up with her. Eventually, she slowed her pace, mostly because he kept getting pulled up.

His mech was not significantly smaller than hers; modeled after the armor Starscream and then Miko had employed, though not quite as refined as the work of the legendary Solus Prime, it was a squat and bulky thing, though still slimmer even than Arcee. That said a lot; duowheel platforms like her didn’t have much body mass in relation to their size. But she was far stronger than she looked, and Jack’s mech paled compared to her brief bursts of armor-shredding power.

She paused, her struts clacking on the ground. Her head turned, blue optics peering through the canopy towards Jack, who was looking a little overwhelmed. Her face clicked into a softer look, and she lowered him to the ground. “Take the time you need,” she said, and waited.

When he was ready, they set off again, and Arcee had a hard time resisting the urge to just take hold of his hand and escort him. It had been years since he’d become a fully grown man, as the humans reckoned such things, and though he was certainly competent and capable, he was just so… small. And Arcee was well past the point of ‘just’ being attached.

Deeming an alien one’s conjunx endura, the most intimate and close of Iaconian romantic ideas, was certainly atypical, but not unheard of. It was just rare for Autobots to settle down anywhere to get close to an alien. And for Arcee, a partner was as close as it got.

They descended down, into the ruin, and Arcee had already suggested that it was much older than any potential resident might have been. Soon it became clear, as they descended down, that this was a temple of some sort. Arcee supposed it was, at least; the elaborate carvings, the deep hieroglyphs shimmering faintly in the walls, the strange angles in the walls spoke to old sacred geometries of Cybertronian worship. Or then again, perhaps this had been a storage facility. She recognized some of those hieroglyphs from Iaconian Energon reservoirs, and supposed this might have been such a place.

But it was old. Glyphs like the ones carved into the walls had not been actively used for many thousands of years since before any modern Cybertron city-realm even existed in a recognizable form. Their languages changed only slowly, but even so Arcee found these glyphs so hard to read, so distant from her own languages, that it was mildly disorienting.

Jack looked at them, pausing to study them. Arcee waited beside him, doing her best to look stoic and cool and not at all miffed that he was doing a better job of translating them than she did. “I think this bit kind of looks like the old Iaconian High Pentamatrix glyph for ‘god’,” he said, looking pained. It must have been a very rough translation, then; his studies into Cybertronian language were progressing well, better than her own had during her brief and terminal attempts to work with linguistics. “But it’s, I don’t know. Weird. Some bits of it look like they’re representing sounds, not a given idea. Or, um. Does Cybertron have things like, sign posts?”

“Sign posts?” Arcee repeated.

“Yeah. You know, images where you see it and you instantly know what it means without context? Like a sign post that says ‘danger!’ on earth. I know what that would mean, even if it had nothing on it.”

Arcee rolled her optics. “Course we have those, Jack. Memetic information and ideas aren’t exclusive to humans.”

“Right, I know. I thought I’d be sure, first. Didn’t want to just assume and us get hurt over it.” He frowned, his mouth moving as he extended his mech’s hand over the glyphs. “I can see hints of something that looks a bit like the Iaconian glyphs for ‘fast food’, but that can’t be right. And this bit here, it looks like old Simfurian Claw-Scratch. I don’t have the right words to explain what they sound like, but it sort of looks like its suggesting… danger? No, its more like… cautioun. Like a ‘careful where you step’ sign?” He shook his head. “You sure this is a temple?”

Arcee glanced up and pointed. Right above them were two small statues mounted into the wall: the more monstrous of the two was a grotesque thing, almost like a robotic centaur but with a strong dragonish air. The lower half was a low-slung beast, paws tipped with claws and a long tail curled around it calmly. From the waist up, the statue was more humanoid but barely so, too broad and armored to read as anything but a monster. Multiple arms were crossed over a body that some ancient sculptor had endeavored to suggest was both mech and femme-aligned, and the triangular head was that of a beast. And yet, for its monstrosity, it emanated wisdom and serenity; its many eyes were closed, its great jaws held primly shut in an expression of sage calmness.

Across it was a statue more recognizable; it was indisputably a fembot. Definitely a fembot; the sculptor had made that very clear. Energon tanks swelled out from the chestplates to unreal extremes, the hips were impossibly massive, and Jack seemed unable to look directly at its curves without getting embarrassed. The statue’s head had been carved to look as much flame as it was metal, and her expression was a wild, fierce joy. ‘Maniacal’ might have been a good word, too.

“Onyx Prime,” Arcee said of the bestial shape. “And Solus Prime,” she said, pointing to the curvy one. “Two of the original thirteen Primes. Optimus’ predecessors, you could say. They were worshiped as gods in ancient times, and you won’t find statues of them in just any facility.”

“Why build a temple on the moon?” Jack wondered.

“...Good question. That’s usually something you do to keep it secure.”

They began to go down the stairs again. Arcee noticed that they were strangely shaped, with multiple sizes and shapes for someone to ascend. There was a set just the right size for them to go down, bisected by an even smaller set perhaps for minicons. And besides them were increasingly bigger stairs, for ‘bots in Optimus’ size range, and then Grimlock’s… and then who knew? Perhaps the likes of Omega Supreme.

Arcee did not notice that the walls themselves, towering as they were, swelled up even bigger than that. Those were also stairs, for something as big as Metroplex. Or larger still.

Down they went, and behind them someone followed. Someone very much like a spider.

-----

Downwards they went, and the stairways looped in a loose spiral, in a fairly linear path without additional branches or chambers. This ruin led somewhere specific, and Arcee suspected its purpose was not purely spiritual.

The strange arrangement of steps they’d noticed continued, all the way down, and though there were no more ancient lighting arrangements, it was still brightly illuminated. Cracks webbed up and down the wall in a surprisingly harmonious arrangement.

As they went down, further, they came to an raised platform the glowing cracks encircled like a directional sign. When they stepped on it, it creaked faintly, with the sound of mechanisms around them that sounded like an old calculating engine going to work. Something clicked, and the platform slid away, and descended on down.

“Whoa!” Jack yelped. “Did we just hit a trap?!”

“No, no!” Arcee patted the dome-shaped seal over his seating. “It’s just an elevator.”

Down they went. Jack stared blankly. “...An elevator.”

“Yes. What’s weird about us having elevators?”

“...Arcee, I’m who-knows how many lightyears away from Earth, on a planet that had a thriving civization millions of years when the dinosaurs were still alive. You guys having something as mundane as fricking ELEVATORS is a little weird, okay!?”

“Fair enough, but guess how I felt when I saw that your planet had created vehicles that were an absolutely perfect match for our natural alternate forms. I’m just saying that the freaky feelings go both ways, you know.”

In this manner, they idly talked the nervousness away, aware of a dim glassy substance around them. A tube, perhaps, the means of conveying them downwards, and they could see outwards.

For whatever that was worth; the elevator moved surprisingly fast, nothing but dark groundmetal visible, and they were descending many miles every second, a trick of pressure keeping this from having any adverse effect on them. (Not that Transformers needed to worry about that kind of thing, but it was still a concern for Jack. Arcee kept glancing at him, concerned.) Jack kept close to her, extremely embarrassed by his mech acting on his true desires by clinging fearfully to Arcee’s leg. She put a hand on top of his pilot seat, comfortingly, as they came to a stop.

The illumination had grown brighter, and as they stepped out, more complex. Dimly, her optics took note of a vast expanse around them, a faintly lit horizon outlined into an outward curve. A great dome extending in every direction, as far as they could see. They stood on an island of sorts, and around them was a vast lake, shining a faint pink against an oilly surface, meeting the distant wall. The lights became more regular, shaped into hieroglyphs, and stretched across the entire chamber so that it illuminated the distant curving horizon. Jack squinted as they stepped onto a raised podium, perhaps an altar, and Arcee patted him briefly. “Ease up, Jack. Not gonna ask for a translation. You’d need binoculars or something first. Besides, I think I got a pretty good idea of where we are now.”

“You do? THat’s more than I got.” With every sign of reluctance, he parted from Arcee, and she found him missing his close proximity with a surprising intensity. He looked up, towards a distant ceiling, and a faintly visible tube they had apparently moved down through. The entrance above looked like a tiny hole, just barely lighted. “How far down are we!?”

“If I had to guess? Probably in the center of the moon.” She tilted her head. Judging from the religious iconography…” She pointed at the altar, which extended for a considerable distance, as if some very big things were expected to sit there. In the distance, she saw a large tower, and it looked old; ancient carved lines flowed with pink light, and set into the very top of it was a large crystal. “Yep. See the little statue things on ‘em? Kind of look a bit like the Predacons? Denizens of ancient Simfur. And, let’s see what else we have here.”

She shone a light, and took a step back in shock as liquid power shifted welcomingly in front of her. Blackness gleamed, somehow bright, and pink glimmer shone like solar flares. The liquid flowed, frosted steam rising up, heavy crystals slowly rising up here and there in places where it was thickened into a solid mass. And far, she saw the pink and black mass gushing out of the walls, being made by some mysterious internal processes, and she saw the hints of ancient machinery about her and in the walls.

The crackle of electricity fell over her, the taste of power was bright, and she at last understood. “Oh,” she said softly.

Jack took a sharp intake of breath. “Is that… energon?!”

The blessed life blood of their people, the fuel that kept them alive, that kept them immortal over the ages, and the rarest substance in the known universe. And here was an entire lake of it, being made on the spot. “Yeah,” Arcee said, numbly. “But I’ve never seen this kind before. And, okay. I get it. This moon. I think, I think the ancients hollowed it out and built something in it. This was a, an energon production facility! And it came online not too long ago…”

She felt woozy, a bit distant, and she felt very hungry indeed.

Jack gave her a concerned look. She put a hand on him, steadying herself. She thought weakly of too many eons of going hungry, of rust growing in painful patches and bits of her aching. “Why’s it black? And pink?”

“Energon used to come in different varieties. Aspected to the different original Primes; the kind you’re used to is attuned to Prima, the first of the Thirteen. Pink probably means something to do with Solus Prime, and black…”

“That’d be Megatronus, right? The one that betrayed the rest.”

Arcee gave him an unamused look. “Don’t think your color expectations apply here, Jack. Black means Onyx Prime. Red used to be for Megatronus.”

“Sorry.”

Arcee bent down. “Well, this would explain the power readings; there’s a damn lake of Energon being made down here, and it doesn’t look like it’s going to stop any time soon. We absolutely… uh…” She put a hand to her forehead. Her vision flickered. Arcee wasn’t aware of it, but just for a moment, her optics glowed bright pink. And above them, something spidery was patiently crawling down.

Thoughts of what they absolutely should do went out of Arcee’s head. Her processor pounded; lightning moved in her, a feeling of lightness was making it hard to stand. She stumbled, her exoframe shifting. She felt… not itchy. She felt hot, cold. Both at the same time, and with an irrepressible feeling that was intolerable. It was like firing up a transformation cycle and then holding it, until it hurt…

Something was sinking into her, fusing, and gently reconfiguring her, and it was then she realized it.

Energon radiation. Like transwarp mutation. Just being near this stuff was changing her! And non-Primian Energon, like Dark Energon, could do things to you.

Just for a moment, she looked up, at the crystal alighting the tower, and she felt the power flowing from it. That was no Energon crystal. It was something… older. Something power, as ancient and mighty as the Star Saber had been, or the Forge of Solus.

Even as her fuel lines blazed with a sudden and ferocious pleasure, Arcee shouted, “Jack! Get back!”

He complied, scuttling back all the way to the elevator, unaware of the shadow crawling closer from above the both of them; he was too fixed on Arcee, his eyes wide and afraid. She stumbled forward, her optics wide, glowing pink… and then, so did the rest of her.

For a moment, Arcee’s slim frame turned a glossy black. Not for long, and Jack had to admit it didn’t look ominous like the purple of Dark Energon, and then her usual colors asserted themselves.

Then her frame began to shift, and grow bigger. As soon as her colors appeared, Arcee began to grow larger, slowly swelling up bigger than Bumblebee was. She kept growing, and swelled up even taller than that, soon reaching the height of the likes of Knockout or some of the bigger Vehicons.

And her body shape was changing. She was getting… not muscular, given how Autobots were built, but she was getting broader. Her torso was expanding notably outwards, her waist a bit moreso, and her hips sprouting outwards.

She kept getting bigger, her proportions growing so fiercely she looked as proportionately beefy as Optimus was. And her thighs expanded outwards, with such ferocity that a better word might be exploded. They plumped up and grew, and grew and just kept growing, her armor fusing into a malleable and less rigid form to absorb attacks; her servo musculature swelled into place beneath it, even as her thighs got bigger than her torso and her waist!

And then, the swell where her hip-joints met her waist plate grew, Energon collecting there and producing new mechanisms and growing them to immense size; two enormous swells, plated in more deflect metal and the jet black of her undercoating, grew into a gargantuan backside; Arcee hissed, an undercurrent of pleasure as it bloomed outwards, her body creaking as her plating adjusted to a butt projecting outwards like a shelf, or an ant-insecticon’s abdomen.

Pink and black flashed around her body as her butt kept growing bigger, pumping in more mass, flashes of light shining around her. She tottered forward, more extreme heel struts forcing her stance into something awkward as she struggled to compensate, and it was harder to walk; she was getting taller, growing upwards too, and the gradual changes to her size were shifting her balance almost as badly as her new assets. Her energon tanks began to grow, wobbling larger with each step, hanging off and providing heavy weights, dense Energon settling into them and making them grow faster.

But not as fast as Arcee herself was growing. Her shoulders were broader, her overall body significantly more amazonian, and her hips nearly as wide as she was tall. And she was growing upwards faster than all of that anyway; her legs lengthened, heel struts stabilized into ultra high heels, her thighs clamping together as she wavered in place, and she shot up twenty feet all at once. Arcee yelled, her head dizzy with a surge of power and a delighted thrill, and flailed her arms, trying not to fall over even as she grew taller than even Optimus was. She got bigger, she kept growing upwards. Another fifteen feet, with no signs of stopping.

And another twenty after that, and then another; she was more than twice the size of even the likes of Grimlock, the single biggest bruiser in all the Autobot ranks short of the likes of Omega Supreme, and she was still growing upwards, shooting towards the ceiling.

It felt so right; the Energon burned bright in her, her entire body felt filled with a sweet flame, and though she was aware of changes in her mind, certain inhibitions falling away, she didn’t mind. The straightforwad nature of Onyx Prime, and the wild mania of Solus Prime touched her, influencing her, and she liked it. She certainly didn’t mind as her energon tanks expanded, tripling in size with a single wobbling flux. Her torso plating was completely absorbed, energon tanks totally fluid and wubbling and pure black, now descending somewhere around her waist and projecting out nearly half her total length. And they were still growing, swelling outwards, filling with more energon. They fizzled, gleaming from within so that a pink light was visible within them, and she felt more mass being generated and pouring into her tanks, making them bigger.

And on the ground level, Jack gaped in shock as Arcee kept growing, a true giantess even among the Autobots. Her high heel-shaped feet clattered forward, her entire body jiggling in a way he wouldn’t have thought an alien robot could. She was still growing, her exoskeletal armor fused into a squishy and soft hull like metallic latex, and he couldn’t help but think that she looked kinda beefy. Her shoulders were wider, her waist was tiny, but her limbs were much thicker than before, her thighs dominating his view, and her butt was swelling out so much she was toppling forward. Her butt was almost bigger than she was by now, two hge hills swelling up and gradually forcing her downwards, and her breasts (possibly not the right word, he knew, but damn they were so big) slamming into the ground, now absolutely bigger than Arcee herself, so that Arcee was sinking into them with every sign of pleasure.

She kicked a leg up, groaning softly. Arcee turned her head around, her optics glowing pink. “Jaa-aack,” she sang softly, a whirring noise as she focused for him. “Where are you? Where are you!?” She reached for him, pinned by her breasts. “Come here…! Now!”

Jack timidly stepped forward. Something in her voice sounded… different. He wasn’t sure he trusted this raw, wild intensity. It felt like something had been scraped off her.

Before he could get too far, though, something swooped down, and perched on Arcee.

Arcee turned as Jack recoiled in horror at this familiar threat. Arcee’s stupified self-satisfaction faded as she recognized her old foe: “Airachnid!” She shouted.

On the left swell of Arcee’s backside, there stood Arcee’s oldest tormentor and nemesis, Airachnid herself. A tall and fearsome Decepticon, built on broadly the same lines as Arcee, she was nonetheless a spider-type Insecticon, a rare hive queen. Her body had the plated, spiky look common to the Inecticons, and her rear dominated by a heavy spider abdomen (not dissimilar from Arcee’s new backside, in fact). Where Arcee was blue and black with a hint of pink, Airachnid was purple, black and deathly grey.

And something else was… different about her. Besides her dancing up and doing trying to avoid sinking into Arcee’s super soft mega butt, that is. That rather spoiled the intimidating effect.

Arcee swatted at her, while Jack rushed over in a very bad attempt to fight her. Unfortunately, Arcee’s butt was simply too large for her to reach, and her arm smacked off her own endowment. Arcee maneuvered her leg into Jack’s way, and a wall of metal cut off his route. Airachnid laughed. “As I thought! You could open the way into this place, with all its treasures, and all its power! And at last, here you are… so helpless.”

Arcee squinted. “Say what you want, little bug,” she said, her voice smoother than normal, and with a sudden pleasurable awareness of how… puny Airachnid was. “You’re looking pathetic now. Come here, so I can crush you!”

Arcee’s arm transformed into weapon mode; instead of the slim pistol-grade shooter, it swelled up into a ridiculously massive cannon. She blinked, shrugged, and aimed.

Airachnid bounded away as a wall-annihilating flood of pink-black force almost obliterated her. “Perhaps I have bitten off more than I can chew. But then again…” She grinned, and her face split open. Long fangs extended, and a horrific feeding tendril extended. “What an interesting idea!”

“Arcee!” Jack shouted from below. “Get her off you, now! She’s a Terrorcon! She’s a decepticon vampire!”

“She what!?” Arcee felt a sudden pinch on her butt. “Ow!”

Airachnid bit deep… and as luck would have it, it was basically like a mosquito biting Arcee. She was too small, and Arcee too large, and even as she drank her fill, the lost fraction was too small for Arcee to even notice.

There was a brief pause as Airachnid bloated up, filled to maximum capacity by even this small sample, and rolled right off her backside. As she fell, towards the Energon, she was visibly growing curvier in the same way as Arcee, and doubling in size in even the brief moment between the fall-

And the splash, into the energon. She was heavy enough now to crack through the frozen layer.

Arcee paused. Rubbing the small bump on her backside, she frowned, her lips notably plumper than before. “This seems like a, a bad thing to me.”

“You think!?” Jack yelled.

Arcee paused, noticing him. “Ah. THERE you are~!” She reached towards him.

And at this point, interrupting her attempts to be cuddly again, something arose from the energon. Something… big.

Mostly they saw two very big somethings, wobbling and bouncing in place right in front of them, and rising up towards the ceiling. There was a lot of purple, and a brief sight of exoskeletal armor fusing and morphing into a new shiny form. A broad waist like the side of a mountain, broader than Arcee’s curves, hips dominating everything in front of them. The splash of a monstrously huge metal butt growing so fast it slammed into the energy and made tidal waves, and more splashes as gargantuan breasts swelled up as much as Arcee’s head, hitting the Energon…

Arcee looked up, and up, and up to see Airachnid towering over her, growing even faster than she had, as large as a Metrotitan and still growing bigger.

Airachnid laughed like a noblewoman, her horns glinting as she tilted her head back. “Oh, oh, this is just perfect! You do the hard work to come in here, and I am the one who reaps the most benefits!” As she spoke, she was visibly growing up towards the ceiling, and her horns rammed into them, her breasts and backside competing to fill up as much space as possible. Arcee squeaked as purple metal squashed into her.

Airachnid pressed forward, submerging her in squishy metal, and still laughing, let herself keep growing into the ceiling. She kept growing, soaring upwards, more metal fembot body filling up as much as space as possible, and her optics fixed on something; she bent down and plucked the ancient device Arcee had observed earlier, right off the grand podium at the very center of the chamber. It was a small thing; a crystal of the deepest and brightest light, like a piece of the sun made solid and safe. Black and pink laced around it, infused into it, and clearly it powered the whole facility, for as soon as Airachnid took it away, the room became dark. The hieroglyphs, speaking their mysterious wisdom and words of the ancients, became dim, and then all was dark.

All, but for the pink glow of the Energon. It grew fainter as Airachnid’s body continued to absorb it, fueling her growth. By now, she must have been over a mile tall, and she was still growing. Her butt was now so large as to be nearly a separate thing from the rest of her body, rising as high as her elbows and low as her mid thighs, her whole form monstrously curvy. Spidery limbs extended, growing larger, and all manner of kibble materialized on her body, suggesting far more than just one possible alternate form. This was evolution, ascension beyond the limits of modern Transformers.

She peered at the crystal. “Interesting,” she said, after a moment. “A relic of Solus’ own work, I would imagine. And some of the handiwork of Onyx too. And married to energon harvested from the very heart of Primus, to amplify the effects of their creation. Making Energon to uplift… no, transform and upgrade us. Supercharging, in fact. Oh, if only it had been active during the war… then I could have crushed that short-sighted maniac and taken over in a snap!” She snapped her claws for emphasis, and the shockwave tore vast chunks out of the walls, and knocked Arcee all the way to the other side of the chamber, in an instant; she made an ultra curvy impact crater, and slipped into the Energon.

“Arcee!” Jack turned to her, freezing and unable to decide; run and hide, like Arcee would want, or figure out something to do. Anything at all! And then, the sky went dark, and huge metal claws closed around him. “Ah. Arcee’s little beloved. What fun,” Airachnid said smugly. She pressed Jack into her cleavage, a small hatch appearing to receive him and then locking him away, vanishing him into her body. She then considered the artifact.

Will was usually the answer. She concentrated upon it, letting herself be a vessel for its power, and it wanted to flow. It’s boundless essence flowed into her, and it was important to know that the Energon it had made… that was not the limits of its power. That was what the grand mechanism around them had been built to do, transfer its power into a consumable form. Airachnid received, instead, the full and unbound force of it.

She gasped, almost indecently, and her curves surged, fluxing several sizes bigger, and then she grew upwards, soaring towards the ceiling. Arcee emerged from the Energon, to see Airachnid growing thousands of feet in seconds, almost instantly filling up the entire facility, her monstrous breasts slamming into the rooms, an oppressive weight above them, and she was still growing bigger-

There was light, and the ceiling cracked. It fought against the weight of Airachnid’s body, and soon lost as her strength was boosted as much as her size, and with a vague thrust of her shoulders, she smashed right through solid metal, and kept growing upwards. Almost instantly, Airachnid’s head disappeared into the gap, then her shoulders. Her breasts, low-slung and projecting out as much as they did, carved out even more, and then so did her backside as she grew so much her hips soared through the ceiling. Her thighs grew; she had to be over five miles tall by now, and her thighs alone filled the whole room, slamming Arcee into the walls.

And, at last, the pressure was gone, as Airachnid broke through the surface of the moon and hauled herself up, on pure reflex.

As silence fell, Arcee felt a brief surge of relief, the sheer terror of Airachnid being so big fading away. Then, a fresh terror came to her. Airachnid had been here the whole time, she was loose. She was larger than a Metrotitan, she was supercharged by a Primal relic. And then:

She had Jack.

Arcee, with a lot of effort, forced herself to crawl forwards. The Energon’s surface had been cracked, and she sank into the liquid depths. It swam and coursed around her, caressing her every expanded inch, and she barely felt the thrill of it being absorbed into her metal body, or that several tons of Energon were being sucked into her every second.

It had a purpose, and it wanted to fulfill that purpose. Here was Arcee, as suitable a host as any.

But all she could think of was Jack; her partner, her beloved. She was responsible for him, she wanted him, she needed him safe, it was her fault he was there. Her enemy had him, and he was totally in her power, and she couldn’t let him be hurt. She forced herself forward, with no clear idea of what she could possibly do; she yelled in frustration, and again, she raised her arm, and willed it into weapon form.

Out came the cannon. She aimed it upwards, towards a vast purple mass that looked suitably jiggly, and she fired. The resulting beam of power would have made Megatron’s fusion cannon look puny, and it could have one-shotted the Nemesis at the height of its power.

Airachnid didn’t really even notice the blast, but she did feel a sting. Dazed by euphoric pleasures, and the enticement of her own growing body, the shock of the sting was enough for her grip to loosen, and the artifact fell out of her hand.

Arcee saw it’s shining light fall, and drop into the waters. She grunted, her body reconfiguring into an alternate form; a long and low slung vehicle, with as much resemblance to a two-wheeler form as a tyrannosaur bore to a sparrow; it was TECHNICALLY the same thing, but the details were notable. Not even pausing to wonder why her alt mode had changed, she revved into the waters.

The Energon soon vanished, poured into the ideal vessel that was Arcee’s body. The entire chamber was totally dry.

And then she grabbed the artifact, and her drive to beat Airachnid was all the way in it needed.

Very, very quickly, Arcee found the ceiling getting rather closer.

--------

On top of the surface, the Insecticon hordes bowed to their queen, as she stood to her full size.

By now her size had stabilized, and there was a gaping hole in the moon where her body had torn its way through, big enough for a hyper curvy fembot now standing one hundred miles tall; she was so large, her body extended well into space off the moon, and she was plainly visible to the Autobots on Cybertron. Indifferent to what threats might come her way, she laughed softly, delighting in the feeling of power radiating in her.

She felt as though she were a goddess; every movement could break a continent, her exhalations raise a hurricane. The power coursing in her satisfied even the ravenous hunger of a Terrorcon; for the first time since her transformation, she felt satisfied.

“Come, my children,” she said sweetly, a sudden burst of generosity in her. That felt odd, and for a moment, she felt somewhat concerned. But then it was soon gone; the urge to not think at all, to simply do as occurred to her, felt much more satisfying. And it felt… good… to do things like this.

Perhaps later, she might worry about the influence it had on her, or if her mind was changing.

The Insecticons clustered around her, feeding reverently. One by one, they scuttled away and through her psychic link, she felt them at last satisfied. And something in them… changing. The dark hunger, the same as Unicron, was still present, but… dimmed. Or tamed?

Much like her own. Something, certainly, was changing her mind.

She considered the human currently sealed inside her, and she rather thought she enjoyed the feeling of him wriggling there, and not just because she’d denied Arcee a prize.

Hrm. Where was Arcee?

As the last Insecticon drank their fill from her, she felt the mad hunger fade from them, and plenty of them curled up to nap. “Missing your bike?” Airachnid murmured to Jack, of a mind to taunt the organic speck, and paused, not even noticing any reaction from him.

The Insecticons sensed something approaching. Something big. Airachnid leaned towards the rift her body had torn into the ground, peering into the black depths there, and she saw movement-

And then a fist as large as her own, large enough to tear islands from their roots, clocked her in the face.

The impact hit so hard, it rearranged the atmosphere, and the shockwave from it changed the geography of the moon. New mountains rose up from that punch, and the Insecticon horde was scattered to the wind.

And Airachnid was actually staggered by it.

Arcee stood up, strutting out of the pit, and she stood eye to eye with Airachnid, just as big as her, easily 100 miles tall.

She walked forward, her steps making islands on the moon. Each swing of her hips moved enough metal to make entire continents, and Airachnid was floored at how massive those hips were. Thighs packing more mass than cities slammed together, intricately interlocked squash plates mashing together, and her hips produced their own weather systems, flashing with pink and black energies. Her hips were easily wider than she was tall, and her backside so massive that the two globes rose higher than her elbows, jiggling and wobbling with each step, so broad they were visible from the front. Mostly black metal, interlocking into the transformed blue of her leg greaves, the light caught on her metal butt and she was jiggling so much the effect was like a disco ball. Behind her, her backside projected out like a tremendous shelf, an awe-inspiring sight.

Her breasts were not quite so large; if Airachnid had to guess, Arcee’s hips were larger than her own, but Airachnid had the bigger energon tanks.They still descended to, perhaps, her waist, dipping further, the black teardrop-shaped masses sticking outwards for a shocking distance, enormously wide, and so as Arcee advanced, her breasts slammed into Airachnid’s. They docked at first, and Airachnid was surprised at the pleasure of it, the shock of warmth in her. The full weight of it pushed her back, and Arcee rushed forwards, almost knocking her down; the massive weights dense enough to actually push her forwards.

Arcee actually leaped; her new form was significantly more bulky and powerfully built, and just as strong as Airachnid, and she flew into the sky, easily flipping and landing a kick square into Airachnid’s face. The Insecticons, at least the ones on different parts of the planet, had since recovered from her explosive arrival, and rose in a great mass to descend upon her. Arcee simply punche at the air, indifferently, and the shockwave again washed over the moon, knocking them away.

Airachnid commanded all her Insecticons to her; recognizing that they would be no use in this fight, she instead produced many openings in her body, as though she were a living ship. Her insecticons entered, hiding away inside her, and she allowed herself to draw power from them, and comfort from their simple adoration of her. And, annoyingly, she sensed that the human inside her knew Arcee had arrived, and was already rejoicing. Out loud, she said, “How did you reach my size!?”

Arcee smirked. There was something wilder about her now. She was moving differently. It was a sexual kind of ferocity, unhinged and even savage. What had the transformation done to her? “You left the artifact to me. And the rest of the Energon was mine. Easy enough to outdo you!” She smacked her massive butt, for emphasis, making a noise somewhere between rubber being slapped and a metallic clang.

Airachnid scowled. “...I’ll take it from you, once I finish beating you down.”

Arcee, having already swallowed it for safekeeping, doubted that. “You can try.”

“And I suppose now, Autobot, you’ll demand I surrender.”

“Mmm.” She made a mocking kissing sound. “Oh, you won’t have to surrender,” Arcee said, grinning in a truly terrifying way. Her plump lips slid back over rows and rows of long and cruel fangs. It was a feral smile, a bestial Dinobot kind of smile. “I’ll just beat my Jack out of you, and then I’ll keep on pummeling you until I get bored!”

For just a moment, Airachnid felt a flutter of uncertainty. “Wait-”

Arcee swung, a surprisingly graceful movement that put her massive bulk into the air, her heel strut landing square into Airachnid’s face. With that, the battle was properly joined, and Airachnid was plunged into a new valley carved out by the force of the kick. Another one, as Arcee spiraled down, struck Airachnid in the right boob, but the enormously dense metal absorbed it handily, and Arcee hopped in place, her foot stuck.

Airachnid’s spider limbs, much longer and bulkier than before, produced a number of nasty drills, hooks and other combat attachments. They dove forward, with such speed and force the air tore around them, and when they hit it produced a massive blast making more cracks in the moon. Unfortunately, most of them slammed into Arcee’s boobs, and the only one that didn’t hit a glancing blow on her butt, with all damage absorbed.

“Well, what do you know,” Arcee panted, a thrill in her optics. “These new features aren’t just fun. It's better than armor!” She headbutted Airachnid with a wild scream… and then promptly reeled back, dazed and woozy.

“Pity you don’t have the headgear for that kind of move!” Airachnid headbutted her, and with her horns, she was actually able to pull it off. Arcee stumbled back and Airachnid pressed forward, ramming her head into her again and again, chipping off bits of Arcee’s head plates and armor with nicks of her sharp horns.

Arcee recovered gradually, ducking back just enough to avoid another headbutt, and ducked low, leaning onto her breasts and affording herself enough leverage to kick out. Airachnid howled with pain as her shin joint locked up from the blow, sinking into a hole made by the impact. Arcee leaped up, and levered her massive weight into a brutal slam down onto her.

Airachnid escaped, and transformed. For a moment, she had some dreadful uncertainty; she felt not one potential alternate state, but many. It shocked her; she had not just one alternate form now. And the instincts of them all felt ready to direct her mind. The form of a spider, all predatory skill and violent speed. A two-wheeler form for pure speed, not so different from Arcee’s native form. Her original helicopter form, but scaled up…

She folded up, her curves compressing and providing far more cybermatter to make an even larger form, and she flew out as… well, as a spaceship. For a moment, it occurred to her she could simply leave, right here and now, with her prize. She rose up, engines firing…

“WE’RE NOT DONE HERE!” Arcee roared, her voice positively deranged, and her hands extending into wicked claws. Another arm became weaponized, turning into an absolutely massive cannon, and fired, the blast knocking Airachnid’s ship mode out of the sky.

Airachnid landed in the form of an enormous mechanical spider, raising forward multiple bladed limbs, and she charged. Her blades clattered ineffectually against Arcee’s armored breasts, but they were more effective against the rest of her, slicing at her forearms.

And so the two continued to fight.

Across the entire moon, their battle raged, assuming a multitude of forms as they did. Both of them fought far more aggressively than they might have before, though it had to be said: Airachnid was fighting for just enough space to retreat, perhaps recognizing that she needed more time to plan. Arcee fought for Jack, and to finally put down Airachnid, and she fought with a completely wild, ferocious savagery in keeping with the likes of Onyx Prime’s modern disciples; she clawed, she bit, she roared like a monster.

“SHOW ME SOME BLOOD!” She snarled, assuming the form of a gigantic creature not dissimilar to Earth’s wolverines, with a hint of velociraptor in there.

“We’re robots! We have no blood!” Airachnid retorted, in her ship form again, evidently an evolution of her original alt mode.

“SEMANTICS ARE STUPID! HOLD STILL AND DIE!” Arcee assumed a two-wheeler form, though now resembling a battle barge with treads, and rocketed into her. As she bounced off, she transformed back into biped form, producing a set of blades on her forearms and enthusiastically swinging at Airachnid, and began parrying Airachnid’s bladed spider-limbs.

Below, on Cybertron, the Autobot host assembled, waiting on instructions. Optimus Prime watched solemnly, doing a good job of hiding his complete bafflement on Arcee’s transformation, but he gave the order; make no move, unless Arcee was hurt. The battle was too large to risk collateral damage.

After all, the two fembots were still growing. Somehow, the radiation continued to affect them, and though they were too deep into battle to realize it, they had nearly doubled in size, to two hundred miles tall.

They continued to assume a dizzying variety of new forms, each one feeling as natural as two-wheeler and helicopter had before. Arcee barreled into her as a speedy tank, Airachnid resisted the attack as a combiner swarm. One became a living city and brandished turrets in a massive firearms attack, the other dug under the ground as a digging insect. One ran circles around in multiple speedy forms, the other simply assumed increasingly tougher and resilient ones. Even as Airachnid became a ship once more and rammed her, intending to piledrive her all the way into Cybertron, and Arcee became a space station, extending many weapons and firing point blank, dazing Airachnid so that they both floated in space, now orbiting Cybertron.

And, for that matter, both of them now larger than the moon they had been battling upon; their breasts and backside remained the roughly same proportions, but their enormous roundness looked like stellar masses from ground level. Their energon tanks slammed together, jiggling enticingly, as they clung to one another.

“Just… give me the artifact!” Airachnid hissed. “I’ll give you back your precious human! Let me achieve… perfection!” Her voice took on a slightly desperate air. “It is the key! To become as grand as Solus herself! I know it is!”

Arcee grinned in a truly frightening way. “It’s worth keeping it from you, just for that. You’ll have to live with that, forever! I took something you wanted! That you decided was yours! Try and live with THAT, Decepticon scum! See what it’s like!”

Airachnid hissed. “Mine… mine! Give it back!” She lunged.

And, unfortunately for her, it was very poorly timed. Arcee was a more experienced fighter overall, and while Airachnid was a deadly schemer, a vicious ambusher, and a cruel torturer, she battled best when she could surprise her foe. And Arcee was a scrapper by nature, and this was exactly her element. She rammed her tanks into her, using leverage and mass to her advantage; with her bigger hips, and larger backside. She had much more force to offer.

Airachnid leaned back, both stunned by the impact and strangely aroused. Arcee lifted herself up, wrapping her monstrously big thighs around Airachnid’s waist, and was pleased by how her old foe grunted in dismay. And she squeaked, putting all her planet-cracking leg strength into it. Airachnid gasped, with a satisfying cracking noise. As her monstrously huge breasts floated up in the vacuum of space, Arcee took her opportunity, and struck!

Her claws sank into the base of Airachnid’s torso, right to the join of cleavage and torsoplates. She missed the Spark chamber, though whether through mercy or sheer accident… hard to say. But she found what she aimed for, at a spot she had been focusing on the whole fight, and her claws popped it right open.

Her hands closed around Jack, still safe in his protective mech. And, for him, the entire world was the goddess-like grandness of Arcee. Her cleavage could have sheltered continents, her eyes burning stars, and her mouth swallow his home whole. She grinned with a wild and possessive air, and with no preamble, she scooped him up. Right above her Spark casing, she produced a suite suitable for the care and housing of an organic sweetheart, not unlike a luxury spaceship might have, and she plopped him in there. Multiple armatures stripped him out of the mech, to enjoy the comforts of Arcee more directly, and by some strange tweak of her internal shifting, it wound up in her mouth. She spat out the empty mech, indifferent to its cost.

She noticed, in a vague sort of way, his clothes were also there as well. Perhaps she got a bit overzealous, and then grinned as she thought of him naked there.

Still dazed, Airachnid moved. The motion drew Arcee’s attention, like a cat seeing a mouse move, and she grinned even wider. “I can think of one thing to make this day even better,” she said sweetly, drawing her arm back. It grew a massive blade, and she pointed it right at Airachnid’s chest. Airachnid’s eyes widened, because Arcee wanted her to know what was coming. Arcee swung, straight at her Spark-

Airachnid headbutted her again and Arcee detached. She was so stunned by the blow that one of her compartments opened, and out flew the artifact. “No!” She yelled, but Airachnid was faster, and she caught it. “No, no!” Airachnid ignored her, transforming into her ship form once again, and this time, just revved her engines up. The heat of them grew intense, sub-light systems manifested and engaged. Arcee roared in fury, and transformed as well, but her form blurred. She was so angry, so awash in pure bloodthirsty intent and thwarted revenge for so many lost friends, that she couldn’t settle on the right alt mode.

Normally, it would only have been several seconds of hesitation. And it was enough time for Airachnid to accelerate free of Cybertron’s orbit, breaking away from Arcee and out of her reach.

Arcee fired at her, but by now, it was a performative gesture. Airachnid, in ship mode, accelerated, and shifted into other realms of existence; she jumped, and then-

She was gone.

Arcee stared where she had been, for a long, long time.

And then her screams of rage made all of Cybertron shrink back in terror.

“Arcee…?” Jack said meekly within her, completely nude and quite self-conscious about it, but a lot more concerned by her thrashing. “Arcee! Please! Talk to me!”

It was a little frightening how fast Arcee’s attitude instantly calmed down. “Oh. Jack. You’re okay…” And mine, mine, MINE, some jealous and vindictive part of herself roared, and she purred in personal agreement.

“Arcee? Are we… are we okay?”

Arcee looked where her foe had gone. At least for the moment, Airachnid was gone, the last Decepticon holdout of any notable throat no longer an immediate concern. Jack was safe. And Acree herself…

She felt a thrill of power, such that she could tear worlds apart with barely any effort, and she gloried in the unfettered might of it. “Yes, we’re okay.”

She turned, regarding Cybertron, and she focused her attention, her optics zeroing in on the otherwise minute specks of the ordinary Autobots.

Her expression was...strange, for a moment, and briefly, unsettlingly like Airachnid when she regarded the brief and irrelevant humans she so looked down upon.

Then Arcee smiled sweetly, though fiercely, and wiggled her claws in greeting. “Hello down there,” she said coyly. “How do you all like the new me?”

------

It was several months later.

The moon had, by and large, been repaired, and now colonized. The facility within it could no longer produce the empowering Energon without the artifact it had hidden to do so, but it could still produce ordinary Energon, and was now presently feeding Cybertron and even its allies. Grimlock wasn’t too happy about his moon getting wrecked, but it amused Arcee to argue about it with him.

Arcee herself had kept growing for some time even after the fight, stabilizing until she was a little smaller than Cybertron. Given that the planet was largely hollow, her overall mass was probably equal to it. However, it was a bit boring hanging about in space with herself, Jack and any nearby space-capable ‘bots, so she worked out a way to displace her mass and become smaller, though she disliked getting too small; presently, she liked hitting Metrotitan size, and spent some time as her own city in what had once been the Sea of Rust.

Jack and her were now even more inseperable than before; she was becoming very jealous and possessive of him, and he was so enamored and won over by her that he meekly obliged her every whim, and simply lived in her full time. Some speculated what, exactly, they got up to in the complexity of her body, but the general opinion was that it was their own business.

Anyway, upsetting Arcee by being too nosy about it seemed… dangerous.

Not that she came off malicious to the other Autobots. She had changed, yes, but she was still an Autobot; compassionate, honorable, and vaguely insane at the best of times. (They had… unique recruiting practices. But you didn’t stick with the Autobots if you were a normal robot.) Optimus seemed to trust her, at least, so that was probably a good sign.

But she was a lot more wild than before. Enamored with her own power, preening and even vain.

“You’re… sure you don’t feel very different?” Ratchet said dubiously.

He sat atop her finger, which was big enough for him to stand upon with ease. Arcee sat upon her territory, one massive thigh posed dramatically, her energon tanks sloughing onto the ground around her, a number of Autobots happily curled up in there. Sometimes she cooed over them in a surprisingly maternal way. “Not really.” She smirked. “People think I do, huh?”

“You’ve been more… discreet, in the past.”

“You mean restrained.”

“Hmph. Yes. Suppose I do.”

Arcee leaned back. Her butt arched up into the sky, even with her laying back on it like her own personal mattress. “Doesn’t feel right anymore. I just like going with the flow. Anyway, planning’s hard. I guess. Easier to just… do whatever pops into my head.”

Ratchet looked worried. “But you don’t feel… less intelligent!?”

“No, no!” She waved a hand calmingly. “Not at all. I just don’t like… planning stuff out. Making things too complicated. It gets frustrating and, I don’t know, unnecessary.”

“Hrm.” Ratchet considered that. “Well… I do have some interesting news on that front. You know I was originally from Simfur, yes?”

“Thought you were Iaconian, doc.”

“Ethnically, yes. But I was raised in Simfur. When I was with Wheeljack, we raised Grimlock and his other, hah, reprobates.” He said this with greater affection than he used with anyone. It was a little weird, actually. “I learned much of the legends and stories of the area, particularly since Grimlock became a true believer in the religions surrounding Onyx Prime. You should know that this sort of… impulsiveness, is closely associated with the way Onyx Prime was described in the older legends.”

“I thought they was all wise, enlightened and that other slag.”

“Well, yes. But Onyx was also the first beastformer and progenitor of the Predacons. Their default solution to a threat was to bite it’s head off.”

“Hah!”

Ratchet eyed Arcee’s pronounced teeth and claws. “The… physical traits are more subtle than expected. Historically, anyone exposed to Onyxian Energon becomes a mutant beastformer. I suppose the presence of Solus’ influence affected it… though based on her legends, you ought to be even more unhinged.”

“Oh yeah, she was a bit wild, eh?”

“I think a more honest term might be ‘mad scientist’, Arcee.” Ratchet sniffed. “...Do you like being this large?”

“I’m gonna level with you, doc.” Arcee leaned in. “I have no idea how I could stomach being… puny. I’m never being smaller than this, I promise!”

“And the…” Ratchet gestured vaguely in a way that indicated outsized chest ornaments. “Those?”

“They’re Solusdamned sweet, is what!”

“...To each their own. I don’t judge, you know. Out loud.” They went through a variety of other topics, briefly covering Jack (who was quite happy, if increasingly agoraphobic and disinterested in non-Arcee vistas), Optimus’ mild approval of Arcee’s state on the basis of ‘if an Autobot wants to be something, it is that Autobot’s right to do so’, and Grimlock’s continuing attempts to arm wrestle her fingers for fun.

As Ratchet’s check up came to a close, with a report on his findings on Arcee’s changes, which were frankly alien (among other things, she was apparently multidimensional now, and her T-cog was now distributed throughout her whole body), he brought up one other matter. “There’s been no signs of Airachnid.”

“I didn’t think so.” At Ratchet’s glance, Arcee continued. “A giant fembot Terrorcon as big as a moon with an artifact like that would make some news.”

“If she’s even just the size of a moon now,” Ratchet said grimly. “The two of you had access to that… whatever it was, for less than a megacycle, and you’re bigger than Unicron when you want to be. Now…? We may need to look for solar systems disappearing when she’s feeling peckish.”

Arcee actually shuddered. “Don’t even say that, Ratchet. Don’t like to think about those cute little aliens getting… hit, by her.”

Ratchet glanced at her. ‘Cute’ was a new sentiment from her. But regardless. “I don’t know if even your increase in power will be able to cope with whatever she might have become. But, at the moment, barring some unusual breakthroughs in universal combining technology, you’re our best option. Megatron turned himself in, Starscream is in hiding, and most other Decepticons have either been captured or have submitted to trial. Airachnid is the last remnant of that sorry chapter of our lives.”

“More’s the pity I couldn’t kill her when I had the chance!”

“Well, you may just get your chance. You AND Jack.” Arcee gave him a surprised look. “Tell me, have you heard of something new the biological experts are looking into?”

Arcee tilted her head, with the clouds shifting in response. “Nope. I’m interested, though.”

“I’m not clear on the specifics. Xenobiology has never been an interest of mine. But we’re working on a way to resonate Sparks with the physiology of certain bonded aliens to amplify our power. It’s similar to combination, but without a physical transformation. But you need a close bond to make it work…” He gave her a look, or perhaps Jack’s permanent residence. “A VERY intimate bond.”

“...Oh~?” she said sweetly.

“A symbiotic link, amplifying an Autobot’s power, and potentially size. They’re calling it the Headmaster technology, I believe… or Powermaster, not sure which. What do you think? Would you and Jack take a look into it?”

Arcee almost drooled at the thought of being even stronger, and allowing Jack to help bring down Airachnid once and for all. “I wouldn’t mind~!”

#/#//#///#////#/////#commissions #my writing #fics #twitchy!transformers #twitchy!airachnid #twitchy!arcee #queued

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lavellane · 5 years ago

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A-Z HEADCANONS // DUNCAN THEIRIN

i was tagged by @nordxz thanks so much tash !! i'm gonna answer this for duncan, my babey and the next gen son of alistair and ella cousland 😊😚😘

i snappped while answering these and accidentally wrote 6 pages and almost 4k words so uh. loooooong infodump ahead.

Alignment: What would be their D&D alignment? How might it come into play?

duncan very easily falls into the lawful neutral category, like i dont rly need to give his alignment too much thought unlike with some of my other ocs. duncan is.....hmm. hes a very KIND person, generous and selfless, and tries his best to make people happy, but i wouldn’t necessarily say he's good, considering a lot his issues lie with his inability to act, or stand up to others. he’s guilty of very blindly following the law, or other people's ideas of what's right, and he doesn't really feel confident enough to rely on his own conscience for most things. so i'd say while he tries to do the right thing and act within the law, sometimes he goes against his own values out of fear or confusion or, simply out of ignorance, since he was born into a life of privilege and can't always distinguish what's right and what’s believed ykno

Beverage: What do they most like to drink, and why?

duncan shares a weird trait with both his brother and sister where they all just inexplicably ?? don't like alcohol at all. so stuff like wine and liquors is off the table. he absolutely LOVES tea though. u know that one scene in scott pilgrim where the gal is going thru her list of like 72 teas? thats him 100%. it's his lifeblood at this point, he has SO much of it and a perk of being the heir to a monarchy means he's got a lot of foreign merchant acquaintances, so he tends to order in different blends from all over. he's a chronic insomniac, and he uses it as a crutch to get through the days some times. modern!duncan still loves tea but obviously has a stronger love for coffee, since its far more effective!

Co-Habitat: Do they live with anyone? What’s “need to know” before moving in?

duncan currently lives in the residential dorms of the college of enchanters, while he's sort of aimlessly studying a bunch of subjects he's already mostly adept at. firstly, duncan is VERY sick lol, he was conceived while ella and alistair still hadn't found the cure for the joining, and essentially he inherited both of their darkspawn taint so 🙂🙂🙂 thats always a good time. so anyone who lives with him needs to prepare for 1) him being sick obviously,, throwing up, coughing up blood, looking like a corpse virtually 23 hours of the day lol. and obviously the fear that one day he might actually die. but also 2) he suffers from grey warden nightmares for the same reasons, hence the insomnia. he can go a concerning number of days without sleeping and usually only takes strategic cat naps when he needs to, but obviously he has his limits. it's very rare that he goes a full night without waking up in a cold sweat due to nightmares so. we stan one depressed king ! oh he also is Incapable of locking the door to his apartment. he always forgets and hes too tired to care about people stealing his stuff fkdkdjdjd he would probably make more of an effort if he had someone living with him, but old habits die hard so !!!!!!

Decor: What kind of home do they keep? Are there any defining details?

honestly , duncan's house is very devoid of clutter or personal items in general, which is sad. he definitely would have a lot of decor if he could, but since his current housing is only temporary while he's in orlais, he doesn't really want to get... comfortable ykno. other than that, duncan's home is always kept impeccably neat and clean, for two reasons. firstly, growing up in denerim's palace really engrained into his head the importance of keeping up appearances, so its sort of a subconscious ritual of his at this point. but i think more importantly its because of all the nights when he cant sleep, so during the night with nothing to keep him from dwelling on his thoughts or nightmares, he really needs the distraction, and cleaning gives him something to do. duncan really needs to feel like he's doing something, like he's managing, like he's able to achieve something so cleaning is just one little way of taking ownership of his life.

Escape: What do they do to de-stress? How successful is it?

nsfw warning but uhhh..... he has a LOT of sex basically dkdkdksk u wouldn’t know it by looking at him tho ! bc hes very polite and nervous and kinda shy?? but hes also charming and obviously attractive so he doesnt really lack for interested parties. mainly he just sticks to one night stands, with no strings attached, and it helps him take his mind off things when hes exhausted or its late at night and hes afraid to go to sleep. otherwise he also has had some friends with benefits but usually his personal life is too complicated for a serious relationship. aside from that, he also reads a LOT, writes too – when he has the time/energy – and obviously cuddling sessions with his cat, moira dkdkdk

Fluff: What hits their soft spot? Does anything turn them into emotional goo?

so ik above i said that duncan doesnt do serious relationships but thats,, not through any will of his own. he LOVES love and is a complete hopeless romantic , but unfortunately for a number of reasons he's just very unlucky at love ! 😔 so having an emotional, intimate connection with someone that isnt just sex is super healing for him, since he's not used to it at all. being with nadaia is such a positive thing for him, just knowing that his feelings are reciprocated and that he's valued and wanted.

Grudge: How bad does an insult go over? Do they hold a grudge long?

i think it depends on who its directed at !! duncan usually ignores any insults directed at him because he's grown up being so scrutinized by the public and for the most part, fereldens are very weary of him so he hears A LOT. most of criticisms about him he just.. automatically accepts as fact and really buys into them, bc he has such low self esteem. but as for other people, and ESPECIALLY loved ones thats a very different story!! he's not exactly the type to start throwing punches if anyone says a bad word against someone he cares about, but he WILL personally see to it in his own sneaky way that they get whats coming to them dkdkkdjd usually he'll either find a way to expose their dirty laundry, embarrass them in public, prevent a promotion, something like that lol. this goes double if the insult is directed at nadaia or his family.

Hobby: What’s something they do for fun that might be surprising?

ive already mentioned that he's an avid reader and he likes to write occasionally, but he's also a talented musician! He can play harp and lute, and has a beautiful singing voice ! tho he never EVER sings in public and u have to be like,, a ride or die for him to even consider singing in front of u.

Insomnia: What’s their sleeping schedule like? Snorer? Sound sleeper?

well like i said he's an insomniac so sleep rly is a vague, barely recognised concept to him at the point dksksksk he also experiences sleep paralysis during especially bad nightmares, honestly he rly hit the misery jackpot and i feel so bad like hes indisputably my most tormented oc 🙃🙃🙃 so yea hehe doesnt really thrash around during nightmares but he sweats A LOT and sometimes talks in his sleep. during sleep paraylsis obviouslyy he goes COMPLETELY rigid and still which is terrifying for everyone involved lol. on the rare occasion that he is able to sleep he is out like a light lol he would sleep for 17 hours if he could. in saying that because he is also a Strategic Napper he is usually comfortable falling asleep ANYWHERE, because hes so tired comfort really isnt a concern lol.

Jaded: Do they buy into the “happily ever after” ideal? What’s their standard?

no he doesn't unfortunately 😔 or at least i should say he doesn't believe in it for himself - he's pretty convinced that he won't live til 30 and he's existing on borrowed time as it is, so he hasn't really put a lot of thought into his own happiness or the pursuit of his own goals because he doesn't believe he'll be around to see them realized

Kin: What’s their role among their relations? Do they consider others family?

duncan is the firstborn son of king!alistair and ella cousland, my canon warden. he's also the eldest brother to roslyn and bryce theirin. he's also, obviously , the half brother of keiran, tho none of the theirin kids are aware of that oof. his role, officially, is to become king when his parents eventually pass. its NOT something he wants, due to being so sick and unsure of himself. despite what his parents tell him, he doesnt believe he will make a good king and is really terrified of the notion in general, i guess a little like alistair was in dao. duncan kinda,,, avoids his duties, to the point where he literally LEAVES to live and study in orlais. he still does what he needs to do, keeps in correspondence with people he needs to, but its all bare minimum stuff because hes just. so afraid of it lol. he has a mostly good relationship with his family, despite that – theres some resentment between him and his sister, rose, but thats a whole entire story we dont have time for dkdkskdk

Law: What do they think about abiding rules? Are they selective about it?

like i said before he's pretty adherent to the rules and laws of society tho i do see that as more of a flaw than anything. he doesnt really feel comfortable stepping outside the norm and tends to accept that other people know best ! even if he disagrees he's usually too unsure of himself to speak up. that does change quite a bit once he and nadaia grow closer, since SHE is big on bending ridiculous or unjust rules, but he's always gonna be a bit of a follower i think 😒

Magic: In a magic series or not, are they accepting, or is each instance a shock?

he's accepting!! he's a mage so it would be wild of him if he didnt lmao. during his childhood/adolesence he was kinda harsh on himself and had a lot of internalized guilt for being a mage, bc this was obviously still fresh after the mage rebellions. he resented his own abilities and just wanted to be normal, but that was also him projecting a lot of his other problems as well. he had amazing teachers who helped him come to terms with his abilities, and the best of all was my inquisitor, ashara, who is kind of like a very distant, scary aunt who always had a soft spot for him. she helped him – and alistair and ella – RIGHT after they discovered he was a mage, and she was really the biggest role model in his life when it came to magic. duncan has always looked up to her skill and control and confidence, and tried very hard to match that.

Network: Are they connected to the people? How much do they reach out to others?

duncan has an ARMY of acquaintances and connections due to his family, but doesn't really have a lot of people he considers his close friends. he's super friendly and he gets along with most people, but like ive said before serious relationships including friendships are always a bit complicated for him bc of who he is as a person lol. as for reaching out, he's a very independent, introverted person and so he tends not to seek out other people unless he's close to them or has no other choice. he's very self conscious about being a burden on people or being to “needy" so he holds himself back and sometimes comes across as a little cold.

Offspring: What kind of parent would they be? Would they prefer one, or multiple?

he.... probably can't physically have kids unfortunately due to his condition, and as a result he's never really wanted to think too much about it, or imagine a scenario that he believes he cant have. but if it WERE a possibility, or if he felt stable in his own life enough to adopt, he'd probably be comfortable with just one child to completely spoil. he would be such a good father, albiet maybe not the coolest dad ddkdkdks i think nadaia would be the one who got up to the crazy shenanigans and let her child get away with everything, and duncan would be more of the nurturing, responsible one. he'd be a MASTER at telling bedtime stories, would kick ass at homework assistance, and would sing his kid to sleep every single night (until they got too old for it obviously). ooooo im so IMMENSELY emo abt this au now that i think about it

Pistol: Is this character skilled with a weapon? What’s their opinion of violence?

duncan is a very non-violent person, but he does believe that sometimes violence is necessary and will BE violent if he needs to – only in self defence scenarios though. he's an adept mage, and very skilled with a staff, but he isn't a fighter, really – more of a defensive, protective figure.

Question: How often do they feel doubt? What topics are they defensive about?

oh the doubt is constant with him 🙃🙃 he has a lot of deep routed dread about his own morality and whether or not he's a good person or if the maker will accept him when he dies. he's andrastian but TERRIFIED of the notion that its all actually real, bc then he doesnt know where that leaves him. he has this weird existential dichotomy where he doesnt know if hes closer resembling a grey warden or a darkspawn bc of his tainted blood. he also doubts his abilities and his magic bc he's afraid that the taint just,, makes him inherently a corrupted thing. he doubts himself on a more basic level with like, being a good brother, a good son, a good king when the time comes. he wants to be a good student and partner but sometimes his health makes him feel like he cant, and it weighs on him so heavily, almost all the time. basically he needs a hug so badly its not funny 😔😔😔

Reminder: How are they at remembering daily needs? What falls through the cracks?

uhh its very selective !!! for the most part he's very good at taking care of himself, mostly because he NEEDS to otherwise his health gets out of control, but sometimes he tends to prioritize one set of needs above another,, which usually means not sleeping (the most common), forgetting to eat, not letting his loved ones know when he's having a poor health day which usually results in him getting really sick and nobody is around to help him. he also forgets to do certain things like lock up his house, buy foodstuffs, reply to peoples letters n stuff like that.

Sing: Do they like music? Do they listen often/sing/hum/play songs in their head?

yes and yes !! duncan loves music altho its a very personal and private thing for him. he's pretty naturally gifted with music and gets it from ella, who taught him a lot of what he knows. he has a gorgeous singing voice (i kinda hc something similar to dan smith’s vocals from bastille!) that he rarely uses bc he only ever sings when he's alone or if he's forced to by a nosy loved one or something lol

Touch: How do they handle contact? Is their personal bubble big?

duncan doesn't mind being touched !!! in fact in most situations he welcomes it, as long as its like,,, appropriate and not some random stranger obviously. he grew up with ella and alistair who obviously are VERY affectionate people so he loves giving and receiving hugs from friends and he doesnt flinch or feel weird about just? random natural touches or anything. his ~love language~ is also physical touch so he LIVES for cuddling with nadaia and holding hands and anything like that. however !!! his little sister rose HATES being touched by virtually anybody and in any capacity, so he's very aware that not everybody is okay with touch, and is always careful and considerate of other peoples boundaries. he usually waits for the other person to make the first move, or simply asks them first !

Upcoming: How much do they think of the future? Do they make long-term plans?

he doesn't at all 😔 i mentioned this before but he doesn't see himself living very long, and its really impacted his outlook on life. he is afraid to commit to a lot of things, even if its something he really, truly wants, because he doesn't want to get his hopes up for things. it also keeps him from forging positive relationships. a lot of it has to do with him just being overly polite, but he refuses to make the first move with anything, or communicate what HE wants out of something. for example, his relationship with nadaia could have progressed so much faster if he had just,,, told her what he wanted. she had to make a lot of the first moves in the relationship because he just,, doesnt know how to take chances i guess !!! we love a Deeply Flawed king

Vice: What bad habits do they have? Is there something they would be ashamed of?

Some harmless ones are ; him talking to his cat constantly dkdskd also he has very poor time management skills so he's almost always a few minutes late, forgetting to lock his stuff up, and slouching, probably !!! some more serious ones would be like,, having sex with strangers as a coping mechanism lol, not speaking his mind and instead just letting himself be a doormat, also INTENSE avoidance of his problems (moving away to orlais for 9 years to avoid his fear of being king for example 🙃) tho i guess they fall under the same category oof.

Wardrobe: What’s their fashion style? Do they have any staple pieces?

duncan dresses nice, for the most part !!! again, it's mostly to do with growing up in court and having to keep up appearances, but also hes just. a nice bisexual boy who wants to take care of himself ykno, and that includes hygiene/clothing/grooming etc ! he's maybe a bit TOO reserved tho, he mostly wears dark colours like blacks, greys and brows, but hes been known to wears reds/blues/whites as well, and there’s a lot of subtle yet beautiful details on his more formal attire that might go unnoticed by a casual eye. a lot of his clothes are specifically tailored but he's also fond of big oversized sweaters for when hes just hanging out ! he's got a not great relationship with his body lol so he usually dresses very conservatively, with long sleeves and pants and usually more than one layer, but hes also a thot so !!! pants be TIGHT dksksksks

X-Ray: How’s their health? Any problem areas? Do they take care of themselves?

Djdjdksksndjddjkekdidksjs OKAY WELL if u have read this far than obviously u kno the answer to this question. if ur just skimming tho first of all ur valid ! second of all duncan is VERY sick. he was conceived when ella and alistair where still searching for the joining cur, so basically he inherited the darkspawn taint x 2 and nearly died a bunch of times as a baby/young child. obviously idk how the cure storyline is gonna resolve but my hc is that bc the darkspawn taint is something he was BORN with, not just something that happened to him via ritual, his body is much more impacted by it so even if they are able to find a cure, it wouldnt work THAT well and his health would still suffer bc of the prolonged damage. so physically, he deals with a LOT – intense migraines, insomnia, nausea, fatigue, problems with breathing and fevers and stuff. obviously mentally hes.... not doing great either, tho he’s trying his best. sometimes his insomnia gets so bad he starts hallucinating visions from his darkspawn nightmares, and sometimes he just feel paranoid in general that he's actually an Evil Darkspawn and hes just somehow managed to convince everyone hes a normal person – sort of a weird blend of imposter syndrome and body dysmorphia its. complicated. anyway he has very low self esteem and tends to think hes a huge inconvenience to everybody, and when he was a teenager he went thru a period where he was very suicidal, and ANGRY and afraid 😔 he’s doing better though, now that he has learnt how to manage most of his symptoms and he's not suffering in denerim court. nadaia is also a huge help, though he tries not to become too heavily reliant on her, since he's had bad experiences with depending too much on other people.

Yack: What’s their favorite thing to talk about? What do they go on about?

skskdkdk im already crying hehe 🙂 duncan is so introverted and self conscious of being “Too Much" for other people so he tends to keep his thoughts/interests to himself and stick w just. boring small tall or non invasive questions relating to the other person. BUT if u show an interest and he trusts u then oh boy. hes an absolute dork. he loves talking about magic and having really intense conversations abt the technical sides of it (he and dorian would get along SO well) but he also loves history !!!! before he began studying at the college of enchanters he received multiple ??? qualifications?? (idk if thats the right term but u kno) from the university of orlais, one of them being orlesian and ferelden history. also anything to do with the grey wardens, the blights and darkspawn for personal reasons obviously. He's a VERY good storyteller so he somehow finds a way to make even the dryest topics seem very compelling and Cool – varric would be proud !! he finds the orlesian Great Game fascinating, and he enjoys sharing wild anecdotes about the things he's seen asshole nobles get up to. thats always thrilling skdksksk ALSO. He has a secret interest in necromancy and the mortalitasi (its only a secret bc hes the heir and that wouldnt look ... great lol ) but he only ever really talks about that with nadaia, who finds that stuff almost as interesting as he does. also, finally, he loves talking about nadaia 😊😊😊😊 hes the type of guy who will always namedrop “my girlfriend" into any conversation, loves telling people about her accomplishments and how Cool she is ..... he loves her a Lot is what im getting at sksksks

Zodiac: What’s their astro sign? Does it fit? What would you pick, if it’s unknown?

duncan is a pisces babey like his mother !!! tho he could also be a virgo but,,, i think for now pisces works better for him. he's very smart and introspective and creative, but he has some issues with critical thoughts, avoidance and melancholy like ive mentioned. also pisces is a water element so i guess that makes even more sense, since hes an ice mage 👌👌👌

okay !!! im done !!! i cant believe i wrote all that but i guess if u didnt know abt duncan before, u absolutely do now dksksks im so sorry to anyone who actually read thru all of this, u really are braver than the troops

#/ long post #god im so sorry idk how read mores work on mobile so im just go... leave this and go #anyway consider this a crash course on my Favourite Boy #i love him so much i rly just... start writing abt him and physically cant stop #tagging literally anybody who sees this as thinks its neat btw. just pretend i put @urnamehere and go for it !#oc: duncan

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jarvis-is-my-copilot · 6 years ago

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Winds Of Change

Heyyy so I’ve had this idea for a long time but I only decided to start writing it recently and I thought I would share the beginning with you guys to see if anyone is interested!😅(I would really love any reblogs and comments so I could know what you guys think!😊)

Summary: When her mother died Autumn assumed she would go into foster care. But little did she know that her father was the one and only Tony Stark. Now Autumn has to adjust to her new life as a Superhero’s daughter while trying to hide the scars from her past life. Not only that but she just started at Midtown High School, a school known for science and math—subjects she had never excelled in. This was unheard of in the Stark household. But at least she made a new friend, Peter Parker, who she’s 99% sure is Spider-Man. Although he has no clue who she really is. Everyone at school knows her not as Autumn Stark but Michelle Jones. Autumn can already tell it’s going to be an interesting year.

Fandoms: Marvel Cinematic Universe

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: F/M

Characters: Autumn Stark, Tony Stark, Michelle Jones, Ned Leeds, Liz Allan, James Rhodes, Pepper Potts, Happy Hogan,

Relationships: Autumn Stark/Peter Parker, Peter Parker/Liz Allan, Pepper Potts/Tony Stark

Additional Tags: Mutual Pining, Identity Porn, Unrequited Love, or so she thinks, Endgame Autumn/Peter, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Mentions of Child Abuse, not from Tony, Dad Tony, Uncle Rhodey, Tony Stark has a heart, Getting Together, Romance, the bots appear a lot in this fic, Trauma, Mental Health Issues, Minor Character Death, Happy Ending

*****

When Autumn saw her mother lying dead on the floor, with a needle sticking out of her arm, she didn’t scream. She had long been trained out of being loud. She didn’t cry either since her mother always got angry when she did that. Autumn simply stared at the body laying on the floor a little longer before grabbing the phone and dialing 911. That’s what they said to do at school when something bad happened.

“My mother is dead,” Autumn said in a low voice when the man on the phone asked what her emergency was. She didn’t know why they wanted to know her address—it's not like they could save her mother—but Autumn told the man anyway. Not long after someone knocked on the door. Autumn made sure to look through the hole to check who was on the other side. Once she confirmed it was the police she opened the door and stepped to the side, watching them work with quiet curiosity. One police officer placed a blanket around her shoulders as if it was supposed to do anything. “She must not understand what’s going on.” “I mean if I was her age I wouldn’t be able to accept my mom’s death either.” “She’s probably in shock, right?” “Why hasn’t she started crying already?” “There must be something wrong with her."

*****

Autumn heard the police officers whisper about her while pretending to look anywhere else. But Autumn was not deaf, nor was she dumb. She was fifteen years old, of course, she knew what was happening. Autumn clearly understood that her mother was dead and being carried away from her on a gurney. But how was she supposed to act? She had no need to shed tears and she had lost the urge to speak long ago. Although no matter how horrible her mother was she always had a place to live and now she had no place to go. That thought made tears finally fall down her face. The police officers sounded relieved from her pain as if crying about her mother’s death made her less strange in their eyes. She heard them talk about putting her in a foster home and other officers mentioned looking for a next of kin. But Autumn knew she didn't have any. Her mother never mentioned anyone else and if she was related to someone wouldn’t they have rescued her already? As it turned out Autumn was wrong.

*****

During the next few days, there was a flurry of activity. They had discovered that her father was none other than Tony Stark whoever that was. But going by their response, he was either extremely famous or extremely infamous. He ended up being the former. Although Tony Stark was listed as her next of kin apparently it tended to be a common occurrence so the state demanded a blood test. All the uproar came from the fact that it was true Tony Stark was her biological father.

Autumn didn’t know how to feel about it. She had no clue who the man was and worried about him being as bad or even worse than her mother. But she was going to find out later that day since she was meeting him for the first time. Since she was only fifteen he was legally obligated to take her in. He could’ve taken the other option of putting her up for adoption, but for some reason he chose not to, even though he had abandoned her with her mother.

*****

She waited at the orphanage they had placed her in until she could meet her father. The other kids weren’t very pleasant. They all seemed to be jealous about who her adopted father was but Autumn couldn’t help but feel wary. The police officers told her that she was being picked up by a friend of her fathers. They called him Colonel Rhodes. “Your rich daddy probably made a servant come pick you up cause he didn’t care enough to come himself,” One of the boys said when the doorbell rang, sneering at her. Autumn ignored him. It was nothing compared to the things her mother had shouted at her and if she could handle that then nothing the smarmy boy said could phase her. They had told her to pack whatever she had when she had left the house for the last time. Autumn didn't have much to call her own except for a couple pairs of pants, a shirt or two and a jacket. She and her mother had struggled to scrape by and Autumn always wondered if the day would come where she would be out on the streets with nothing but the clothes on her back. Luckily that day had yet to come—for now at least. She heaved her backpack over her shoulder with what few school books and clothes she had stuffed inside and walked to the door. Her back was straight and tall and her expression was filled with determination. Whatever situation was through that door she would handle it the best that she could like always. Autumn had learned early on that life would always try to knock you down, but all you could do was push forward or else the weight of the world would crush you beneath it. So as Autumn opened the door, she mentally prepared herself for whoever would be behind it and the new life that would come along with it too.

*****

“I’m assuming you are Autumn,” The Colonel said with a gentle smile as he put his hand out for her to shake it.

The man’s skin was dark like hers and that made her feel less isolated and alone. So far he was the only one who treated Autumn like someone who could think for herself and it made her like him more. Only slightly though, for she knew it could be an act. People were always acting. Although Autumn’s gut, which was usually right when it came to people, told her that he was being genuine.

“Yes, that’s me,” Autumn replied neutrally before shaking his hand.

“I see you’ve got all your things so we should be going now.” The Colonel said, eyeing her ratty bag that was practically falling apart—they never had the money to replace it—with pity.

Autumn held her bag closer at his reaction. It held the few things she owned and Autumn didn’t care for his judgment. Her action caused his expression to change to guilt and he looked chastised. Although she had no choice but to follow him into the car that was parked outside. Autumn didn’t know anything about cars, but it looked shiny and expensive and worth more than her life.

She brushed the Colonel's hand away when he tried to help her up into her seat. Autumn’s muscles strained to lift herself into the seat but she would never ask for help from anyone. She never asked her mother and she definitely wouldn’t ask a stranger. Although she was strong the car was high off the ground and her arms ached afterward. But her face gave nothing away. After the Colonel was sure she was safely buckled in he walked around to the other side of the car and slid in the passenger seat. He didn’t tell her the name of the large pale man driving the car and Autumn didn’t ask.

*****

Autumn stared out the window at the scenery and other cars they passed by. She had never been anywhere outside the small area where they lived. She walked to school and to wherever she could get work at the age of fifteen, but she’d never been anywhere else in New York. All the greenery fascinated Autumn. New York was usually made up of tall gray buildings, but here and there, were beautiful trees and plants. She noticed them especially when they passed what Autumn assumed was Central Park.

Finally, they arrived, the car pulling in front of a tall, oddly shaped building with the word STARK emblazoned on the front. It was silver and intimidating and Autumn felt it’s presence looming over her. What kind of presence it was well Autumn hadn’t quite figured that out yet.

#ocappreciation #marvelocsdaily #toalltheocsivelovedbefore #tony stark #peter parker #james rhodes #pepper potts #my stories #my fics #my writing #my posts #winds of change

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djinmer4 · 5 years ago

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Headline News (Noir AU)

NEW YORK MOURNS MYSTERIOUS DOUBLE DEATHS OF ELDEST LAWRENCE SIBLINGS

“Looking for more inspiration?” Kitty frowned and looked up from hunting the second half of the article among the scattered sheets of the newspaper. “What?”

Kurt passed her a plate of eggs and toast, then turned away to take a sip of his own coffee. For once, they were switching roles, with Kitty on her way out to meet with her editor while Kurt had the day off. He’d offered to go with her but she’d declined. For some reason, he always made her editor Green very nervous. So instead, he’d run a few errands that they’ve been letting slide.

“It’s a pretty interesting case. But I’ll wait to see if anyone else in the family dies. ‘Once is coincidence, twice is happenstance, but three times is enemy action.’” She all but inhaled her breakfast, then quickly applied her make-up and was out the door. “I won’t be back until the evening,” she said, dropping a quick kiss on his thinning hair.

“I won’t do anything you wouldn’t do,” Kurt promised. When the door had slammed shut, he finished his sentence. “Or at least, I won’t do anything you wouldn’t write.”

_______

Charles Lawrence, age 34, died two weeks ago in what appears to be an industrial accident. While inspecting a local meat processing plant, Carl was hit by a stray meat hook and torn apart by an automated dismembering machine. Authorities have shut down the plant and have started a more thorough investigation into the practices of owner Johann Schmidt. The death has prompted a recent jump in purchases of Upton Sinclair’s book ‘The Jungle’ with retired . . .

________

Patricia Lawrence-Tomson, age 32, found deceased last week from strangulation. Police are investigating her husband Dylan Tomson for any possible motives . . .

_______

John Lawrence was going to be a difficult target. Two previous deaths, a career in the military during the Great War and a lifetime of paranoia meant he wasn’t going to be taken off guard the way his two older siblings were. Still, Kurt wasn’t too worried. He’d been planning this hit since he first got the assignment. Kurt went up to the gated estate and rang the doorbell. “Who the hell are you? “

“Language, Mr. Lawrence. I’m Dr. Kurt Wagner, from St. Patrick’s in the city. Father Christopher is trying to make arrangements for your siblings’ funerals now that the bodies have been released from the morgue. As next-of-kin for both of them, we’d like to know any wishes or requests that the deceased made.” He waited a minute. “May I come in to discuss these arrangements with you?”

Rather than the gate opening, a man came out, carrying a shotgun. “I’ve heard of you. The Father called last night to tell me that you’d be coming. Any reason he couldn’t make it himself?”

“Father Christopher is in his seventies and more than a little apprehensive about automobiles. Since I had the day off and a car, I offered to take his place.” He waved some papers at the younger man. “The reading of the wills for both your siblings has been delayed, but the solicitor was kind enough to make carbon copies of any relevant requests. Charles Lawrence wrote he wanted to be buried in the Long Island National Cemetery rather than the nearer Cypress Hills and Patricia has several requests about the flowers and decorations for the mass and wake. Are you aware of any other preferences or requests that the two did not write down?”

John Lawrence ignored his words. “I recognize that accent. Did Father Christopher send a Kraut spy to speak to me about my siblings?”

“Please, sir,” Kurt kept his hands in the air, careful not to advance towards the paranoid ex-soldier. “I’ve lived in this country for over five years now, I’m not a spy.”

Brown eyes narrowed over the shotgun. “I don’t fucking care. I’m not letting some Jerry onto my property. You can either get the hell away from me or I’ll blow your fucking head off.”

“I’ll leave then, but at least let me give these to you. These are the arrangements the Church has made for your siblings and it also has the number you can reach Father Christopher at if any changes need to be made.” Kurt took a step closer and Lawrence lifted the gun and pulled the trigger. The German ducked . . . but it turned out that was unnecessary.

Instead of a bullet whizzing by where his head was a few seconds ago, the shotgun misfired. Not only misfired but did so spectacularly, with a blowback that shattered Lawrence’s chest. Kurt stared as the light faded from John’s eyes and his body went limp in death. Then he turned and raced towards the nearest neighbor, shouting for them to call an ambulance.

_______

“Sorry, it took so long to get ya outta there. They didn’t keep ya from anything, did they?” Kurt rubbed his wrists. The handcuffs hadn’t been too tight but it had still been an uncomfortable couple of hours waiting for the police to check out his credentials and clear him from their list of suspects. The German suspected they would have kept him overnight if not for Logan coming by to take over the case. “It’s fine. That was my last errand for the day.” The Canadian waggled an eyebrow at him. “And Kitty’s got a meeting with her editor. They’ll probably be out all night.”

“In that case, why don’t I buy you a drink to make up for this?”

“Hypocrite. Shouldn’t an agent of the Volstead Act refrain from being caught in a speakeasy?”

“Hey, I work the supply side of the chain, I don’t care about the people distributing it. Besides, tonight’s case got nothing to do with alcohol. I just want to bounce some ideas off ya.”

“Lead the way then.” They wandered over to the Black Cat Nightclub and ordered a meal from Felicia Hardy. The food wasn’t the best but it was cheap, the servings were generous and no one had gotten sick from it yet. Logan took a generous sip of something that perhaps could be called whiskey if you were being kind and started talking. “So, they’re upgrading the case to a serial killer.”

“I see. ‘Once is coincidence, twice is happenstance, three times is enemy action.’” The shorter man squinted at him. “I got that quote from Kitty.”

Logan snorted. “Oh yeah, she’d definitely know all about that. Eh, I guess Charlie could have been a freak accident but Patsy was definitely murdered.”

The German nodded then took a bite, carefully turning away so that the other couldn’t see his face. Logan had known him before the gas had ruined his good features and even several years later couldn’t look at him without the mask. “And there’s no way that misfire could have been natural. I was a sharpshooter, I know misfires don’t explode like that. And I find it hard to believe a man as paranoid as John Lawrence could have had a weapon in anything in other than top condition.”

“Right. Killer didn’t want to take chances. The guns were fine, but all the ammunition’s been tampered with. We’re gonna go back through his supply chain and see if we get some leads that way.”

“So are you still looking for clues?”

“Yes and no. Our biggest suspect right now is the younger brother, Mace Lawrence. Guy’s scum, hires out as low-level muscle to all the different gangs in the area. Word on the street says he was angling for a bigger share of the Lawrence inheritance than the parents left him in the will. Add that John had a successful import/export business and the proceeds from selling it will go to the survivors . . . “

Kurt took another sip of the not-whiskey. “But you have a different idea.”

“I’m thinkin’ it might be the work of the Demon.”

“The Demon? Not the younger siblings?”

“Two reasons. First, there’s a big gap between the elders and the younger ones. John was thirty, then Mace at 22, then Mary at 18. Mary’s old enough to want the money but she’s too smart to be doing this. Second, method. I can definitely see Mace wanting to kill his siblings, but we’ve got three different styles used. One person gets violently ripped apart, another is found strangled to death and the third falls prey to sabotage. If all three of them had been poisoned or savaged, I’d be more likely to believe it was the brother. A killer may vary their methods when first attempting to murder someone but once they’ve come across a method that works, they usually don’t change their habits. The Demon is the only serial killer we’ve seen who regularly varies her methods when killing people.”

The shadows hid the grimace that formed on the German’s face. “And I don’t need to ask why you think serial killer rather than strange coincidences. People die every day, but the chances of three siblings in one month are minuscule. There’s only one problem. What’s the Demon’s motive?”

“Yeah, that’s why Chief Magnus dismissed my theory. But the Demon’s an insane serial killer, it’s not like she needs a motive.” The Canadian took another bite of salmon and potato mash. “That reminds me, I’ve got a favor to ask ya.”

“Shoot.”

“The Chief won’t let me pull anyone off the other cases to bodyguard Mace Lawrence. But if it is the Demon, he’s the next target. I was wondering if-”

“Logan, I work now. I’m not the dockworker who can just not show up for a few days to help you run a stakeout. Besides, even if he won’t assign someone to protect him, wouldn’t the Chief lend you some people to tail Mace in case he decides to go after his younger siblings as well?”

The older man’s voice dropped. “He already did. But Dukes ain’t much good as a bodyguard, too slow. Pete’s better but he’s a rookie, he doesn’t know how to watch a target while watching the surroundings too.” His voice strengthened after that. “Anyway, ya won’t be the only one. I’m gonna pull in a few favors . . . from Slim and some other people I know. I just need to know what day you’ll be taking so I can work out a schedule for everyone.”

“Do you want me to ask Kitty-”

“No!” He took a deep breath and deliberately lowered his voice again. “Thanks, but no thanks. Besides, Kitty doesn’t have any self-defense or weapons training. She won’t be much use as a bodyguard.” Then below his breath he added. “Or at least, that’s what she claims.”

Kurt resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Logan was clearly still hung up on his theory that Kitty was the Demon. “Fine, I’ll check when my next day off is. By the way, you’re paying for the meal tonight.”

“Yeah, yeah, I got it.”

After he’d seen Logan off but before he went home, Kurt went to check on the mailbox he kept at the Black Cat. As a hub of the underground, Felicia Hardy provided a means for customers to contact various services provided by criminals such as himself, a network she had taken over after the death of her unlamented lover, the Crime-Master. Having just completed a job, Kurt was hoping the final installment of his payment would be in, although he rather doubted it. This last client had been a pain in the arsch from the very beginning. If he didn’t get his money within the week, he was going to take a pound of flesh instead.

There was some cash in the box, and another letter as well. When he opened it, he noticed it was the same typewriter that had been for the earlier notes. With some unexpected contents as well. “This will make things much easier,” he muttered to himself.

_______

Mace Lawrence proved to even less impressive than his reputation made him out to be. The man was a lush, a lech and a braggart. He regaled an indifferent audience with imaginary exploits in an attempt to lure some of the working girls into his bed but needless to say, they were all too jaded to fall for his antics. Kurt was thankful Kitty was buried in her next chapter today, she had barely heard him on his way out. With her so focused on her typewriter, there wasn’t much chance of spending time together, so he wasn’t missing out by helping Logan watch this fool.

Rejected and out of money, Mace made his way out of the speakeasy. The nippy fall weather made it easy for Kurt to tail him, just another trench-coated figure in the crowd. By the time Mace was ready to cross the 8th to get to Penn Station, the German was right behind him. From there it only took a light shove to send the inebriate stumbling into the street . . . and in front of a bus.

As soon as the body stopped rolling, Kurt was at its side, shouting (as much as he could with the damage to his throat) that he was a doctor and turning it to lie on its back. He had one of the other bystanders (white hair, was this Logan’s Peter Magnus?) steady the torso while he pulled the arms up and down to stimulate breathing. Despite the best efforts of himself and the cop (and Dukes when he came puffing up), Mace Lawrence was pronounced dead on arrival at St. Lukes.

“Sorry, Logan. I tried to keep up with him but . . . “

“It’s alright, Kurt. I was really expecting something more subtle from the Demon this time. Although I guess a random figure pushing another in the crowd is as subtle as ya get. Without other clues, there’s no way to track everyone who was there at the time. Only good news is that Chief Magnus is taking my theory more seriously now. The last three Lawrence siblings are gonna be moving outta New York, where the Demon probably can’t follow ‘em.”

_______

“How did you know you know Mace had hired me to kill your siblings?” Mary Lawrence stopped and turned to the man standing in the shadows of the pillar. Average height, trench coat and a fedora on his head, he could have been anybody. But the dull blue mask and harsh accent . . . it definitely matched all the descriptions the police had given her about the Demon.

“Why ask about Mace and not my other siblings?”

“I asked first.” He moved his hand and she could see a pocket knife gleam in the dim light. Deciding this was no time to be brave, she caved and answered first. “Mace was an idiot. There were a bunch of drafts contacting you that he hadn’t disposed of properly at our house.” She took a deep breath. “I burnt them before the police could find them.”

The anonymous man nodded. “All the letters were done on the same typewriter, but there was a different writer for the last letter. The first client gave me all three names at once, then sent a note delaying part of the payment after each death. You, on the other hand, paid half up front, then the second half the day after he was confirmed dead, and didn’t bother to boast at all in the one letter I have from you. You were very efficient.” He paused. “Also, there were a lot of pictures of you with the others in John’s home. You don’t seem the type to be willing to kill for money. Vengeance on the other hand . . .”

She sighed. “Too bad Mace didn’t feel the same way.”

“If it makes you feel better, he only had three names on the list. He didn’t intend to kill you or the younger ones.”

“That might be because until John died, he couldn’t afford it.”

“Maybe. But he doesn’t seem like the type to think ahead like that. So, are we free of each other?”

“Yes. I’m taking my siblings out of the city and moving to Saratoga or Albany. Someplace in the northern part of the state. And I take it you have no quarrel with us or any intention of giving the police an anonymous tip?”

“You’ve paid your price, dame. You won’t hear from me again.”

#noir au #dr wagner #detective logan #serial killer kurt

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shinneth · 5 years ago

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Gem Ascension Tropes (5XF-specific: R - Y)

Primary General Post ✦ Full Article ✦ Primary Peri Post ✦ Primary 5XF Post

Rage Breaking Point: When 5XF winds up trapped in a temple chamber shortly after making the decision to live independently and distance herself from Peridot and Steven as much as possible, this happens after enough time has passed. When 5XF attempts to use the tablet she stole from Peridot to escape or find any useful information, she’s instead assaulted with pictures and videos of Peridot’s newfound happy life that 5XF honestly doesn’t believe Peridot deserves. Add in the fact that 5XF has no idea what to really do with her life, and it’s effectively The Last Straw that finally breaks her… causing her to rant furiously to herself, blaming Peridot and Steven for this mess. It isn’t long after this that she experiences her Face-Heel Turn.

Ready for Lovemaking: The end of This is Who I Am Chapter 6 shows her patiently waiting in the nude for Sphalerite to join her in bed. Even Sphalerite (who’s every bit on board with this as her) is impressed how quickly 5XF decides this is what she really wants, despite 5XF having very minimal knowledge on the subject with the couple only realizing they’re in love with each other just minutes ago.

Red Oni, Blue Oni: As far as This is Who I Am is concerned, she is very much the Blue to Peridot’s Red. She’s also clearly the Blue to Steven’s Red in Chapter 2.

Redemption Quest: 5XF is pretty much required to go with the Crystal Gems to face Gypsum whether or not she committed horrible, unspeakable acts, but since she did, most are seeing her participation in this mission as this.

The Resenter: Much of 5XF’s struggles and inner conflict stems from how wrong it feels that Peridot ended up not only becoming a better gem, but was blessed with so much freedom to find herself, live her life as she wished, gained a loving family as well as a dedicated boyfriend… meaning unlike all other Peridots, she actually got to experience true love. Then there’s also everything that goes into Peridot’s role as a Chosen One/Unwitting Test Subject that makes her distinct and objectively superior to her kind. She’s basically gone from being a sadistic, sociopathic, backstabbing bitch to now becoming the savior of all gemkind who is now inexplicably a loving, caring, and moral role model. She’s learned to forgive herself for her past transgressions, and even seeing Peridot’s Character Development through a Mental Picture Projector isn’t enough to make 5XF believe any of this is just. While 5XF is to some degree jealous of her sister’s success and good fortune, she earnestly believes this is all far more than what Peridot actually deserves considering what she was like for the vast majority of her short life. Unfortunately, This is Who I Am ramps this trope up to entirely new levels as Sphalerite becomes part of 5XF’s life… and she’s basically at Peridot’s mercy to ever have a chance at seeing her again.

Same Surname Means Related: Invoked by Steven who, much to Peridot’s chagrin, continuously calls 5XF her “big sister” since she’s currently the only other Facet-2F5L Cut-5X Peridot they know is still around.

Sesquipedalian Loquaciousness: Downplayed, at least compared to Peridot.

Sibling Yin-Yang: Zig-Zagged with Peridot. While the two started out having virtually nothing in common, it should be evident in this trope listing alone that 5XF’s new life on Earth has exposed several traits and mannerisms of hers that happen to align with Peridot’s on several occasions. Nearly all of said traits have been revealed with little to no influence from her little sister, so they are genuine shared traits. That being said, 5XF’s core mannerisms consistently contrast with Peridot’s – Garnet even assures 5XF that no Crystal Gem will ever confuse her for Peridot or regard her as a carbon copy. So, while 5XF does have more in common with her sister than she’ll ever care to admit, she easily retains more than enough opposing traits after her Character Development to not only stand out as her own person, but as a Foil to our Hero Protagonist.

Small, Secluded World: While this was also the case with Peridot, this trope is more applicable to 5XF since Peridot did eventually get promoted and moved beyond her initial limited environment on Homeworld. 5XF had no intention of overachieving, so she remained confined to one facet for the majority of her life and seldom met gems that weren’t fellow Peridots. Being so low in the caste system meant her kind had very limited clearance to access areas beyond their workstations.

Sour Outside, Sad Inside: Most apparent in 5XF’s earliest scenes, though it makes a brief comeback in Chapter 4 of This is Who I Am, then returns with a vengeance after Sphalerite defuses in Chapter 7. Generally downplayed, as 5XF does have very prominent Tsundere traits.

Star-Crossed Lovers: With Sphalerite. Being in love with a fusion is by design not meant to last; even a best-case scenario where the two are willing to make the effort to stay together despite that hurdle (which they currently are) is made all the harder to maintain when the fusion 5XF fell in love with is Steven and Peridot’s – two gems she mildly dislikes at best. Since Steven and Peridot are an Official Couple in their own right (and are the protagonists of this continuity), that leaves an unfortunate situation where the two relationships literally can’t coexist. The only chance 5XF has to secure her relationship with Sphalerite would be for Steven and Peridot to forego their individual lives to keep Sphalerite as a perma-fusion similar to Garnet. They not only aren’t willing to make that kind of sacrifice, but the nature of the post-GA state of the world wouldn’t let it happen even if they did concede to trade their individual lives for their fusion. The best 5XF can hope for is for Sphalerite to be formed in the future and pray Steven and Peridot are merciful enough to give the couple any time together. Considering the massive breach of trust caused by 5XF and Sphalerite’s first outing, it’ll be a long time before 5XF can count on seeing her. Unlike most aspects of this continuity, Status Quo is God won’t budge on this.

Starting a New Life: As of This is Who I Am, 5XF’s life as a Homeworld gem is over. She’s the first of millions of refugee gems rescued at the end of GA prior to Homeworld’s destruction to be brought out and face her situation. 5XF is understandably overwhelmed; a completely different planet, the concept of living her own life freely and making her own decisions, and finding out the kind of gem she was truly meant to be; the gem Homeworld tried to keep buried forever. These are all vast improvements to what 5XF had before, but naturally it takes her a while to understand that.

Straight Gem: When paired with Steven or Peridot, 5XF most certainly is.

Street Smart: Exclusive to Homeworld, and yet another shared trait with Peridot. However, this is one area where 5XF outshines her sister; while they had similar strategies for surviving Homeworld life itself, 5XF’s approach was overall a much safer and more sensible way to go. Her curious nature combined with her emphasis on caution (an aspect her sibling largely lacked) made 5XF very knowledgeable about the world around her and just how low that glass ceiling for her kind was. Although Homeworld no longer exists by the time 5XF becomes an active member of the cast, her knowledge still proves to be useful, and can offer the Crystal Gems unique insight on how to approach the rest of the refugee gems when they’re liberated. She overall has the best understanding of how the refugees will perceive the Crystal Gems and could be an invaluable asset as a mediator between the two groups.

Successful Sibling Syndrome: Once 5XF accepts that Peridot and the cruel, sadistic 5XG she knew of are one and the same, it doesn’t take long for 5XF to start reeling from this – especially once it’s made apparent that her once-awful sister is now going to be a figurehead and a role model for their fellow kin. In all fairness, most of 5XF’s anguish in this trope stems from the justified sentiments that Peridot’s past history should automatically disqualify her from earning a position where she is to be looked up to. She also feels Peridot in general has done far too much evil to even deserve the happy life she ended up with – finding true love with Steven is especially a sore spot, since 5XF makes it clear their kind never had the personal rights to ever achieve something like that on Homeworld. There are elements of typical superficial sibling-based jealousy (Gypsum actually exploits that to entice 5XF to inherit her powers), and 5XF is all too aware nothing she could do would ever help her stand out as much as her sister. However, those sentiments are largely secondary to the elder Peridot’s strong feelings of how much of an injustice it is that her sister achieved legitimate success at all, based on the horrible crimes that were committed for the majority of her lifespan.

Too Good to Be True: This is how 5XF interprets Steven and Peridot’s efforts in convincing her that Earth is a great place to live and how she’ll enjoy living life on her terms to find out who she truly was meant to be now that the Diamond Authority is no longer around to suppress it. Steven and Peridot apparently tried a little too hard to sell 5XF on this concept, resulting in an initial backfire.

Took a Level in Kindness: Starting with This is Who I Am Chapter 6, 5XF is actively doing what she can to atone for her malicious actions in the previous two chapters. She takes calls for Steven and Peridot while they’re incapacitated and even makes a point to inform Lapis that she and Peridot are due to have an important conversation after the vacation ends in the interest of preparing Lapis for what Peridot will have to say to her. While Sphalerite was definitely the biggest influence in getting 5XF to better herself, the truth is that her lingering guilt from what she put Steven and Peridot through makes 5XF resolved to properly atone, even if it means she’ll face a harsh punishment for it.

Tsundere: Contrasts with Peridot here, as she’s more of a tsuntsun Type 1 (with a dash of the Type 2), but does share the deredere Type 6 trait.

Uptight Loves Wild: Being very sophisticated and mild-mannered compared to her sister while not living on Earth long enough to really know how to live by her own rules (her one attempt backfired in a very traumatizing way), 5XF was definitely enchanted by Sphalerite’s more casual, free-spirited approach to life and discovering her true identity through exploring the world on her own terms, opposed to the heavy front-loading of exposition that Peridot and Steven fed her.

Vengeance Feels Empty: After taking her frustrations out on Peridot and Steven throughout Chapters 4 and 5 of This is Who I Am, 5XF finds that she isn’t feeling any kind of fulfillment or catharsis while she watches the traumatized pair sob into each other’s arms. If anything, it makes 5XF feel like a monster, and she soon wholeheartedly regrets her actions enough to strive for atonement.

Willing Channeler: Albeit her decision was made while under duress in a very fragile emotional state, 5XF nonetheless agreed to a binding contract with Gypsum, despite the latter being nothing more than a voice in 5XF’s head. She did this in order to have the ability to ward away Steven and Peridot, but the surge of power twisted her mind and compelled her to go much further than that. 5XF has since acknowledged her consent to this power was a mistake and is resolved to atone for what she did as Gypsum’s power vessel. However, now that 5XF is bound to a Clingy MacGuffin that happens to contain Gypsum’s consciousness, it’s very likely 5XF’s consent will be irrelevant when Gypsum is revisited in the future.

Worth Living For: 5XF was very cynical about the concept of “living for herself” on an alien planet she knew nothing about primarily because she lacked this trope. When she met Sphalerite, that finally changed. After getting to know her, 5XF has been much more receptive to embracing Earth as her new home and looks forward to building her new life on her own terms.

You Are Number Six: Called 5XF for short, but played with in that as of This is Who I Am, Steven intends to think up a more legitimate name for her (as he plans to do for all the other refugees). He’s even willing to let 5XF choose her own if she doesn’t like any of his ideas.

You Can’t Go Home Again: Since 5XF doesn’t have much inherent love for Homeworld and didn’t spare a tear upon learning of its fate, this is generally downplayed. However, by Chapters 4 & 5 of This is Who I Am, when 5XF attempts to split away from Steven and Peridot to live solely on her own terms, she’s finding little reason to actually want to live on Earth – at the same time, she’s now aware the Homeworld colonies won’t be safe for her, and the fact that Homeworld isn’t even an option for her does cause her distress, as it leaves 5XF completely clueless as to where she belongs. By Chapter 6, however, 5XF has completely moved past this trope; with Sphalerite in her life at this point, she’s already decided home is wherever the fusion will be. 5XF has also gotten a positive touring experience on Earth, with certain memorable features further enticing her to embrace this planet as her new home.

#gem ascension #gem ascension tropes #gem re:ascension #tv tropes #this is who i am #steven universe #steven universe oc #5xf #stevidot #peridot #su peridot #garnet #su garnet #su ruby #jasper #su jasper #gypsum #sphalerite #headcanon

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thetygre · 6 years ago

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30 Day Monster Challenge 2 - Day #15: Favorite Great Old One/Monster God

1. Nurgle the Great Unclean One (Warhammer)

I think you can tell a lot about a person by knowing which of the Chaos Gods is there favorite. I’m not saying there’s a right answer, but I’ve always been a Nurgle man myself. Nurgle is more than just the daemon god of disease and entropy; he’s the god of the value of life. Nurgle loves all of his children equally, down to the smallest virus. It can be hard for people to accept that, to realize that they have as much cosmic significance as a single-cell organism, but that’s just because they don’t realize how much love the Urfather has for that little cell. In Nurgle’s phlegmatic embrace, all of us are equal, regardless of race, gender, or cell count.

Nurgle asks only that you spread the love he has so willingly given, so that all may be his children. Death and disease are natural parts of life; we struggle to fight them so, but they always come back to us. Through Nurgle, we may exalt in the power of pus and the greatness gangrene. We grow stronger with each infection, and every tumor is a sign of endurance. We do not die when the Plague Bearer calls us; we merely transform for the vermin and bacteria that consumes us, to be reborn in the eternal cycle. Truly, Grandfather Nurgle moves in wondrous ways.

2. Ithaqua the Wind Walker (August Derleth)

It should come as no surprise that the god of all wendigos is one of my favorite Great Old Ones. The Ithaqua Cycle is probably the best thing August Derleth wrote, for what ever that’s worth. Ithaqua is just such a chilling god; the image of some skull-faced giant thing turning around a mountain is the stuff of nightmares. Ithaqua is the primal urge inside life, the need to do anything to survive in an unrelenting environment. He walks in the cold places of the world, but also in that cold space between worlds, spreading his cannibalistic madness from world to world. Ithaqua himself seems hardly necessary, or the countless wendigos that follow him. It’s the chaos and horror he causes between people in a desperate situation, pitting one man against the other and breaking taboos until only the strongest is left. Ithaqua is the cold and brutality of the North personified.

3. Lolth the Queen of the Demonweb Pits (Dungeons and Dragons)

Lilith is so pastiche these days. You know where the real rebellious queen of evil action is at? Spiders, man, and Lolth is the Spider Queen. Lolth has been in Dungeons and Dragons since the beginning. Wherever the dark elves go, Lolth goes too, like any deity, and her absence from a setting is noticeable. She’s one of D&D’s greatest villains, and countless adventurers have lost their lives in the Demonweb Pits. Her entire realm is an arachnid hell crawling with spiders as small a mite to as big as her spider-golem palace. Lolth is an entity of contrasts; her priesthood is a strict matriarchy, but Lolth herself is absolutely insane. It’s hard to tell if there’s anything left of the elf goddess she used to be. Beneath the layers of scheming, beauty, racially motivated hatred, and plans to conquer the known multiverse lies a beating heart of blind hunger, an overwhelming instinct to survive by strength alone.

4. Saaitii the Hog (William Hope Hodgson)

Saaitii is actually what got this particular entry in the challenge. See, I wanted to do just ‘Top 10 Great Old Ones’, but then I was worried that not everybody would know what the Great Old Ones are and it’s kind of an arbitrary category that Lovecraft wanted people to change from story-to-story for fun, so then I just broadened the category to ‘monster gods’ and now here we are. Anyway, Saaitii is a monster that William Hope Hodgson’s occult detective Thomas Carnacki encountered in his monster-hunting stories. The locals tell Carnacki that Saaitii is the ghost of a boar wrongfully killed long ago, but Carnacki suspects that it’s an extradimensional something using the spirits of dead hogs to try and come through.

First off, I just want to know what William Hope Hodgson’s deal with pigs was. This is explicitly his second pig monster story, following the pig men from The House on the Borderlands. But the usage of that aesthetic is definitely refreshing a little unsettling. In an age of meme-tentacles, we need new and different cosmic horrors. Pigs can be disturbing; we think of them as cute at best and filthy at worst, but rarely evil or malevolent. Even the meanest boar has a kind of nobility to it. But the Hog brings up images of mindless, vicious cruelty, dark things in the forest and filth. The concept of a higher life form like some extradimensional whatsit coming into our world through ‘lower’ lifeforms strikes a little close to the karmic bullseye for some, turning the tables on humanity and reminding us that in the eyes of the cosmos, we’re just so much more food.

5. Ogdru Jahad the Seven Who Are One (Hellboy)

You’d think there’d be more dragons on the list, but so far it’s just the one. Seven. 369. Whatever. The Ogdru Jahad are the Hellboy/BPRD universes Great Old Ones, and the source of… a sizable amount of trouble there. Not all of it, but most of it. At the dawn of time, the Sons of God formed the mud of creation into seven great dragons that were filled with the shadow of the moon, for whatever reason. Things would have been fine and dandy there, but one little angel named Satan, for reasons that are still unclear, took the fire of God and filled the dragon with it, giving the Ogdru Jahad life. The Ogdru Jahad birthed their 369 offspring, and the angels had to fight them off before the whole Creation thing could get rolling. From that day on, every human culture has been warned about the Ogdru Jahad, and they have been ingrained in the human consciousness as the Dragon, from Tiamat to the Beast of Revelations.

It’s a nice fusion of Judeo-Christian Biblical lore and cosmic horror. I honestly don’t think it would work if it wasn’t for the fact that Satan is notably absent from the Hellboy series and, as of BPRD: Hell on Earth, the Ogdru Jahad are winning, where even their smallest children can cause natural disasters. I love conflating the image of dragons with cosmic monsters. Cthulhu as Leviathan, flying polyps as oriental dragons, hunting horrors as wyverns; it’s a direct play to the archetype that both types of creatures fill. The Ogdru Jahad illustrate that perfectly, simultaneously something the most modern of cosmic horror and the most ancient of monsters.

6. Flowey the Flower (Undertale)

Flowey’s final form gets in on design alone. There aren’t a lot of monster designs that actually freak me out, but Flowey is just horrible. Of course that’s also because it’s a genius bit of sprite animation, with the usage of textures contrasting so hard with the rest of Undertale. It looks like something that ate its way inside out from at least three Madoka witches. The claws, the eyes, the mouths; it all makes something perfectly awful and abhorrent. And, of course, the music. I actually think Flowey’s boss theme rates pretty low compared to other Undertale boss themes, but the title is just something else. How are you supposed to do better than “Your Best Nightmare”?

7. Rom the Vacuous Spider (Bloodborne)

It’s Rom. C’mon. Look, I know she’s not actually a Great One; she’s Kin, like Mergo’s Wet Nurse. But look at her. When I think, “What’s my favorite eldritch monstrosity boss from Bloodborne?” I keep coming back to Rom. Just look at her dumb, stupid face. One of her attacks is just falling over. That’s the most relatable a video game has been for me since I was an undergrad. Rom doesn’t want to hurt anybody; she’s just a giant, stupid bug/fungus thing. You could just walk away, man. You could just leave poor Rom alone. She’s doing her best trying to grant people eyes and you’re over here hassling her. In front of her kids, man. Just leave her alone.

8. Moder the Bastard of Loki (The Ritual)

Y’know, as a jotun, this guy could have been on the giant list, but I feel like its design and concept are too unique for that. This is a special monster, a kind of revelatory creature. Its design is just out of this world, blending human and stag and those creepy little eyes. But there’s so much more to it than just a great design. Its ability to create illusions essentially gives it access to shapeshifting, tying it to the actual mythology of Loki and Norse giants. The actual ritual to appease Moder, where it picks a person up and impales them on a tree, is reminiscent of the story in Norse mythology where Odin impales himself on the World Tree Yggdrasil to gain the knowledge of the runes. Before a person is killed, Moder shows them something precious to them, or a defining moment in their life; it is, in its own way, giving the person a revelation about what is vital in their own universe. Moder, like any good monster, delivers a message about the meaning of reality to the people it encounters.

9. Set the Slithering God (Conan the Barbarian/Marvel Comics)

I like this comic book version of a god. The actual Egyptian deity Set is fairly complex, and actually examining his character and divine portfolio gives insight into how Egypt’s culture changes over time. Comic book Set, on the other hand, is the god of snake villains. He is the snake villain to end all snake villains. Marvel cooked him up for their old Conan comics based off an offhand mention in one of Robert E. Howard’s stories because they needed Conan to have a nemesis. So Conan’s nemesis, the arch-wizard/priest Thoth Amon, worships the dark god Set, regardless of the fact that Thoth Amon appeared exactly once in the very first Conan story. Now, it’s fifty years later and Set is apparently one of Marvel’s Primordial Ultra-Deities.

It’s that mixture of traditional myth and the cosmic I like again, though this time it’s less H.P. Lovecraft ‘cosmic horror’ and more Jack Kirby ‘cosmic action’; new gods and a new mythology for a new medium, but still the same old story. Set is the Serpent, like the Ogdru Jahad, manifesting in human lore as everything from the serpent in Eden to Leviathan. He was the first murderer, able to absorb the power of any other god he ate, and even today he seeks reptile supremacy. Wherever there is Set there are snakes, enacting the cosmic cycle of death and rebirth while lounging in decadence.

10. Haos the Ultimate Bio-Weapon (Resident Evil 6)

… We’re going to do this now, and then we’re never going to do it again. Because we’re going to talk about something good that was in Resident Evil 6. One of the most infuriating things about RE6 is that it had some of the most incredible monster designs in the Resident Evil series. Great designs. The kind of monster designs that other games only wish they could achieve. And they were wasted on one of the worst games the series has produced. One of those designs was Haos, the apparent ultimate bio-weapon engineered by (ugh) Neo-Umbrella in a secret facility at the bottom of the ocean good lord I’m putting this on a list with William Hope Hodgson.

Haos deserves a better game; its design is unnecessarily fantastic. It looks like a ningen crossed with a jellyfish. It’s some far future stage of human evolution driven to its most extreme and bizarre form. There’s something forlorn and sad about it, but also beautiful and powerful. Its concept is purely apocalyptic; Haos will rise from the bottom of the ocean before it finally dies and dissolves into a gas that will spread across the world, turning humanity into zombies and monsters. Herald of a world of gods and monsters and all that. Even its name is kind of cool; ‘Haos’ is literally Siberian for ‘chaos’. And every day I have to wake up with the knowledge that this wonderful, horrible monster was stuck at the end of a Resident Evil 6 campaign. It’s depressing. So here’s to good old Haos; at least here you’ll get some respect.

#30 Day Monster Challenge 2 #30 Day Monster Challenge #Great Old Ones #Warhammer #Nurgle #Dungeons and Dragons #Lolth #Hellboy #Undertale #long post

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