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powdermelonkeg · 3 years ago

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Hyrule Brochure: A Potential for BotW’s Future

Hyrule’s map in BotW is pretty sparse as far as cities go. Yes, it’s got more than any other Zelda game, but it also has like, 90% of its map being pure dead space.

So I decided to play around and make what I imagine Hyrule would look like, as far as cities go, if it were allowed to properly rebuild and not get totally wrecked by Ganon again.

Credit to Eragon2589 on DeviantArt for the free-to-use map icons. I love these little buttons so much.

So, these are the canon towns we get in BotW; Hateno, Lurelin, Tarrey, Zora’s Domain, Goron City, Korok Forest, Rito Village, Yiga Hideout, and Gerudo Town. I’m counting Yiga Hideout as a town because if the Yiga were a little nicer, it WOULD be marked one.

Adding the various stables on makes the place look MUCH less empty, but still; what can we do with this?

Well, I’ve spent the last several days locating all the significant ruins and landmarks, with one or two extra things thrown in, that I think would make this place much more populated.

Maps are free to use if you want them, btw. Have fun!

As a general rule of thumb, I want to make the towers and stables their own cities. The towers are a good landmark and beacon of safety, and the stables have all the building blocks to start building up a village.

If I’m particularly inspired, I’ll give some background on what the town is/does!

Starting off with the Rito! Their village has grown into a town, and the stable at its foothill is its own village now. I called it “fledgeling” because that’s where the Rito and Hylians would intermingle most, so the Rito aren’t exactly flying around here.

Beacon City is built around Tabantha Tower; the Rito have turned it into a sort of lighthouse, reflecting light off into the distance to help guide nighttime fliers home. Because of this, it’s a very popular stop for mail carriers, and where they go, development and cultural mixing follows.

Kaysa Town is built around Great Fairy Kaysa’s fountain; it’s a popular tourist attraction, and she gets plenty of offerings, so win-win!

For the Gorons, we’ve only got two more cities: Silversmith Village and Din’s Spire. Silversmith is built around the culture in the southern mines, and it has down-the-road access to the Goron Hot Springs. Din’s Spire is less of a town and more of a landmark, due to the sheer cliffs all around it, but the huge (and notably not in the burning death zone) hot spring lake makes it a popular rest stop for people on their way through.

I decided not to rebuild the northern mines; they’re pretty busted up and lava soaked, so my assumption is that they were abandoned either due to hazards or due to the ore being stripped out.

Korok Forest wouldn’t change much, besides the Royal Family declaring it a protected area. The Koroks don’t seem to have much interest in expansion, and they, as far as I know, don’t live in houses.

Gerudo Territory is MUCH more expansive than the others so far, and with good reason.

Gerudo Town itself is now Gerudo City, and the Kara Kara Bazaar has grown into a town. Canyon Stable has developed a village (mostly full of Gerudo husbands so they don’t have to travel a million miles just to see their families).

The Gerudo have control of one of the towers in their region, and the town built around it is Overlook Town. It mostly serves as a training grounds for young Gerudo warriors.

The City of the Seven developed when the Seven Heroine statues were recovered and restored; the town around them was built to honor them, and then it got a LOT of foot traffic from those wanting to see the legendary statues.

Tera Town rose up much in the same way Kaysa Town did up in Rito territory, centered around the Great Fairy Fountain.

Mesa Village and West Gerudo Town are both smaller Gerudo settlements; West Gerudo sprung up out of access to snowmelt from the Gerudo Highlands, and Mesa Village, because of its relative safety from Molduga and access to oasis water.

Finally, Gerudo Valley, in reference to Ocarina of Time. This town is a Gerudo-only zone, and is more a fortress than a town. It exists both to keep an eye on the Yiga and to gain control of the mountain pass, making people go through Canyon Village to get to Gerudo instead of avoiding Gerudo customs.

Speaking of the Yiga, they’ve taken two new spots for themselves; Gerudo Tower, which they’ve renamed Kohga Tower in honor of their late Master, and Banana Labyrinth, which serves as their highest security area. Imagine if you’d had to go through the LABYRINTH to get the Thunder Helm back.

Up next we’ve got the Zora. Truthfully, their territory spans as long as Zora river and WELL into the ocean, but these are the only cities that, technically, a Hylian with adequate gear can enter.

Mipha’s Landing is an above-water city built expressly for doing trade. It got its name from the late Mipha; since the tower reaches up into the sky, it was hoped that someday, her spirit would sit atop it for a rest and see all that her people had been able to do thanks to her sacrifice.

Lakebed Village is in Lake Hylia, and it’s actually a slowly-repopulating Lakebed Temple, from Twilight Princess. Meanwhile, Great Bay City is a port town above water and an aquatic metropolis below, full of music and dance and exotic wares.

And finally, Hylians.

Hoo boy.

I’ve split this up region by region but

THIS is how many living spots they’ve got.

Silver stars indicate military towns. Red stars indicate military outposts.

I USE THE TERM MILITARY VERY LOOSELY HERE. Hyrule, since it doesn’t interact with its neighbors, only has the Yiga and the various monsters to fight against. Anything labeled “military” means that it’s staffed by royal employ, meaning knights and Sheikah and the like.

Let’s start with Akkala. The northeast labyrinth has been converted into an emergency bunker, in case Calamity strikes and people need a safe place to hide. Not only is it difficult to break into, it also has a completely empty lower level that’s PERFECT for long-term seige.

City Tempest got its name for being near-constantly wracked by storms. Despite this, though, it remains a popular vacation spot for people who don’t mind a little rain; the Skull Lake and the giant flowers are worth it.

Valley Town rose up out of both East Akkala Stable and Robbie’s workshop. It doesn’t get too much foot traffic, but it doesn’t really need to.

Midna Village, I built where the ruins of Shadow Hamlet are. I figured it was a fitting name, and the area is almost constantly covered in the shadow of Death Mountain.

Four Brothers’ Base is a knight outpost that’s up extremely high, spanning huge bridges between the four Tingle isles.

Then Parapa Palace, in reference to Zelda II: Adventure of Link, was built in place of the Akkala Citadel and functions as a mini Hyrule Castle + Castle Town. In real life, monarchs would have several palaces to go between, kind of like how well-off people nowadays would have a summer home. So, I followed that trend! This is Zel’s summer palace.

And you guys know what Tarrey Town is. Although interestingly, as it expands, it goes vertical into the stone column it was built on.

Onto Central Hyrule.

Camp Rauru is training camp and lodging for new knights. Rebonae Village and Kasuto City were made out of the Wetland and Riverside stables respectively, though Kasuto (also an Adventure of Link reference) gets substantially more foot traffic due to being on the way from Castle Town to Dueling Peaks.

Outset Town got its name, lore-wise, from the fact that it’s the first bit of land Link from BotW visited after leaving the Great Plateau, and meta-wise, because it’s the starting point for Wind Waker Link.

Aquame City surrounds the Coliseum, which is how it grew to be so popular. The grand stage holds sparring matches and various other shows regularly, and it’s a pleasant boat trip from Castle Town to get there.

Saria Town was built out of the old exchange ruins, and it’s in walking distance of the ruined Sage Temple—which, at this point in time, would have been rebuilt—and its existence is both an AoL reference and an OoT one (but mostly AoL, I’ve kind of fallen in love with its map).

New Mabe is where you can find the new Lon Lon Ranch! The ruins there are actually called the Mabe Town Ruins in game, and they’re right by the Ranch Ruins!

Eldin’s pretty sparse as far as Hylian towns go. It’s got Gut Check Camp, where Sheikah train for endurance and elemental resistance, and Windfall Town, a place that sees a LOT of gemstones pass through, freshly mined. That includes rupee ore, mind you!

Faron Province is a little more spaced out, due to the nature of the region. Lurelin’s grown since BotW, becoming a trading bay; meanwhile Cora Lake’s Sheikah Tower has expanded into Parache Town, and the Highland Stable has become Malanya Village. Both of those locations are VERY fond of horses, and they’re a bit competitive, especially during archery season.

Ordona Hamlet is a tiny village tucked away into the middle of Faron. It came about due to the Lakeside Stable, and it’s named that because I am STILL salty that the Zeldevs didn’t put an Ordon Village reference in the game.

Eventide Outpost is more of a testing ground for boats than anything particularly significant, population-wise. The even tides that gave the isle its name make it an ideal location to work out the kinks in new watercraft (and occasionally, the lieutenant in charge of that base demonstrates how to launch a raft into the sky with octo balloons).

Hebra’s the most militarized area of Hyrule, and ideally, it functions as a reserve of men and tech in case Calamity rises again. If there’s anything that BotW’s era learned, it’s to never underprepare for Gann’s return.

Fort Lomei is a converted base, just like the Banana Labyrinth is to the Yiga. This one, though, is patrolled diligently by knights who use daily-changing codes, and it’s impossible to navigate without the locals’ help.

Fort Pikida is situated in that weird stone cavern-y area, and it’s a supply stach and Hebran monster patrol site. It’s the soldiers there’s job to make sure that the Lynels that like to roam the region don’t get too close to residential areas.

Hia Miu Outpost is a training spot for knights sent to the Hebra region; any new soldier to the area has to prove they can handle themselves by going into the Hia Miu shrine and taking on the Major Test of Strength Trial. (Fun fact, did you know that the X-test-of-strength trials reset themselves every blood moon?)

Snowpeak Fortress exists both because it makes a fantastic secondary base for the Hyrulean royals to plan, and because i am once again salty about the lack of Twilight Princess in this game.

Sturnida Resort is built around hot springs! It’s a nice spot for people living around Rito Town and Fledgling Village to take a vacation without having to trek all the way across the country to do it.

Snowfield City came from Snowfield Stable, and it’s the Windfall of Hebra; it sees a LOT of people coming in and out of the region, and the view of the northern lights you can get from there? You’d be hard-pressed to find a Hylian that didn’t have it on their bucket list.

New Tabantha was built on the ruined spot of the original Tabantha Village; you can visit there in-game! It’s a quiet town that raises highland sheep for a living, and its team won the Hebran Triathlon three whole years in a row.

Then, the Tanagar Restricted Zone. If you’ve ever been there, you know EXACTLY why it’s restricted.

Most of the Guardians inside have been dealt with, but the ruined temple remains a hazard testing ground for new tech. It’s off limits to everyone but those with the HIGHEST clearance; I’m talking a direct letter from Zelda herself.

The Thyphlo Secret Camp is exactly what it says on the tin. It’s a place for Hyrulean lieutenants to meet for top-secret missions, and it’s one of those places that you need to be SERIOUSLY high rank to even KNOW about.

Over on the edge of Lanayru, we’ve got New Goponga, built where the old Goponga ruins are, and the Crenel Garrison. The Garrison was built to take care of the Lizalfos problems in the waterways, keeping it safe for Hylians and Zora travelers alike. Goponga, on the other hand, is what Lurelin was in game; nice, friendly, and centered around fishery.

In Necluda, we’ve got New Deya where old Deya was ruined (I think BotW Link was born in old Deya!), Watchtower Village built around the lakeside of the Dueling Peaks tower, and then Dueling Peaks City, a HUGE trade hub that was once the Dueling Peaks stable.

Kakariko Village is now a Town, Hateno has grown into a full blown trade harbor, and a tiny village has started to form around the Hateno Tower, making Firly Overlook.

But what I most love is the City of Hylanay.

Back in the game, it was the ruins of the Lanayru Promenade. So I had the promenade rebuilt, then people moved in around it, and now, Hylanay’s basically Hyrulean Venice! I want to visit it.

On the Great Plateau, we’ve got Aboda Town, named after Spirit Tracks’ Aboda Village in reference to the starting point in each game. This Town has access to the original Temple of Time, but because of the nature of the isolated plateau, it doesn’t see a lot of new faces often.

Over around Thundra, we’ve got Tanagar Village overlooking the canyon, built out of the old Tabantha Stable. The village actually builds downwards into the canyon; people have windows carved right out of the cliff face!

Thundra Village is built into the rocky slopes surrounding Thundra Plateau and the Ridgeland Tower. Their houses are built in the shelter of the giant mushroom things that grow so well in the area, and they’re famous for their signature dish of escargot.

The Serenne Exchange is up north, encompassing both the old Serenne Stable and the Maritta exchange ruins. You can buy practically ANYTHING there; if ever there was a supermarket in Hyrule, it would be right there.

The Royal Lab was rebuilt out of its ruins post Calamity, and it’s directed by Purah, who still hasn’t cured her immortality yet. It’s not uncommon to hear explosions as you pass by that place.

And then Camp Rutile is a small observational outpost, meant to keep track of the activity on Satori Mountain. Supposedly, the mountain’s health reflects the state of the rest of the kingdom, so the researchers assigned there are tasked with monitoring it EXTREMELY closely.

And Hyrule Castle. It’s Hyrule Castle.

Now completely bolted into the ground! :D

If we put all these locations together, we get a very nice, very well populated Hyrule, with LOTS to see. This is how I would design the future of BotW’s Hyrule.

Thanks for reading!

#loz #zelda #worldbuilding #headcanons #MAPS #CITIES #I WANT A POPULATED HYRULE #botw

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oftenderweapons · 3 years ago

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YOOOOO ITS MY BIRTHDAYYYYY🥳🥳🥳🥳 that is all sending a big hug

YOOOOO HAPPY BIRTHDAY MATEEEEE!!!!! Congrats, you have won Loyal Reader extra points, I have this commission you asked a century ago so yeah, happy bday sweets

Pairing: Namjoon x reader (nicknamed Vixen)

Wordcount: 1.8k

Genre: smut, basically pwp, mild angst

Rating: 18+ I DON’T WANT TO SEE ANY MINOR CLICKING ON THAT “READ MORE”, ARE WE CLEAR?

Trigger warnings: swearing, hard domme!Vixen, brat!Vixen, hard sub!Joon, strip-tease!Vixen, bondage, vibrating cockring, dildo, overstimulation (male receiving), daddy kink, mention of gagging (with panties), mention of porn, voyeurism and exhibitionism, cumplay, suspension of powerplay. And Switch!Joon, i guess, too. Very unprotected activities USE CONDOMS!!! Don’t eat cum unless the other person/people can prove they’re clean.

“My hands, please. I’m sorry,” Namjoon whined, breathing through his mouth, his chest gluttonously naked, your lipstick marking it here and there. “Vixen, baby.”

“No.” You spoke it with a smile, gathering some saliva in your mouth, your head ten miles ahead of you, already planning what to do after you got up from your legs-spread-bent-over-ass-right-in-front-of-his-eyes position.

He had been whimpering since the moment you found out he wanted you to go cougar on him.

And he’d enjoyed being the prey for once — however, technically, even though you always let him take control, he knew he wasn’t preying on an innocent lamb. You were his vicious fox even when you submitted to him.

“Vixen.” It was cruel. Feet? Bound. Hands? Bound. Dick? Very fucking trapped in a very fucking vibrating cockring.

“Do you need my panties in your mouth to stay quiet?” You rolled your eyes at the fact that you had to swallow and change your plans because he couldn’t for the love of him keep his mouth shut.

“But I’m gonna cum.”

You kneeled on the floor and smiled. “Not my problem.”

He sobbed and threw his head back. “Come on. How fucking long has it been, three hours?”

“Based on my playlist, only six minutes.” You loosened his necktie — currently around your neck — and undid the first couple buttons on his shirt — which of course you were wearing rather sluttily. And that little plaid skirt? The one he always teased you about when he gave you assignments and tests?

He was regretting it now. A lot. It slipped down your legs so torturously as you stood, planting a foot between his parted legs.

He stared at it — at the Louboutins he had bought you after you spent one entire weekend oversexing him — and regretted them too.

You cocked an eyebrow and forced him to look at you. “Still thinking about that stripper?”

“Which one?”

You smirked. The answer was, after all, correct. “I don’t know if I should be happy you forgot or be worried about you seeing way too many of them.”

“It was just porn. Come on. You know I belong to you. Head to toe—” He shivered his glutes flexing a couple times before he growled and arched all the way, his orgasm spilling over his stomach and abdomen. “Fuck— Fuck, fuck, fuck, Vixen!”

“Language,” you chirped, slipping three fingers into his open mouth and pressing his tongue down, drool dripping out causing you to smirk and giggle. “Such a sorry mess.”

He hummed, his hips still swirling as he still tried to find some relief.

You took a step back, wiping your hand against your mouth, Namjoon whimpering as the vibrations didn’t stop. “Switch it off!”

“What? The music?” You tugged the necktie off you, eyes on him as you faked realisation. “Oh! You mean the lights!”

“Don’t you dare act all that smug. Don’t you—”

“Can’t hear you,” you spoke back, undoing the buttons slowly, shrugging off the shirt and turning around, dropping to the floor, grabbing your ass and squeezing it as you rotated your hips slowly, kneeling forward on your elbows, crawling forward until your arms adhered entirely to the floor, your back fully arched as your cheek met the floor.

“Touch yourself,” he growled darkly and needily.

“Do I need to remind you who’s in charge?” You sneered as you turned around to look at him. He had recovered from his post-orgasmic blues and sensitivity and was well on his way to a second high.

So you stood up and turned to face him. The remote to the toy was safely strapped between your breasts, hooked on your bra. “Is this what you’re looking for?”

“Vixen.” He loved how flawless your evil plan was. You had designed it to make him livid. And it was unwillingly playing out to the T. Knowing you, he realised you had probably calculated him being obnoxiously talkative.

He tried his theory. “Come over here.”

You were entirely lost in the music, eyes closed, jamming to it almost naked in front of your tied up boyfriend. Well, fiance. “Or what?”

“You damn brat—”

“Are you gonna spank me, daddy?” you taunted him coquettishly. The laugh that followed had Namjoon considering whether he made the greatest mistake of his life by getting addicted to you.

“I swear, if I get my hands on you—” he said, his voice raspy.

“I’m wondering how that is going to happen…” you mused, still moving to the beat of the music, the swaying of your hips reminding him why he always let you ride him that much.

He shrugged and shook his head, a drip of precum reminding him he was definitely overestimating his liberties. “I won’t be tied up forever.”

“I can lock myself in the guestroom,” you reminded him.

“But you can’t stay locked in there forever,” he replied with a sadistic smirk.

One more shrug before you lowered the vibrations — he was enjoying the toy way too much. “Too bad you’re a workaholic and I’m alone most of the time I’m in here.”

He kept a straight face at the stimulation fading, but he was not as serene about the reminder. “I’ll work from home.”

“Don’t bother yourself for me.”

Your remark poisoned him. “Come over here, babylove. Please.”

You obeyed. Not without grabbing the dildo that had been mocking Namjoon from the very first second of your striptease. He knew you would fuck yourself with it and keep him salivating, watching.

You placed it between his legs and kneeled, untying his ankles. “Keep it still.”

“Please, Vixen.” He wouldn’t be able to stand that.

You shook your head. “Maybe you don’t get it yet, but you must do what I tell you.”

He followed your instructions and stayed quiet. He watched you drool all over the toy before you collected his sticky cum with your fingers. You observed your fingertips for a second, then drew the tip of the silicone cock.

“Miss.”

You looked at him. His eyes were darker, his face more relaxed, no scrunching or pouting or begging. “Yes, Joonie bear.”

“Are you going to lick that, miss?” He had given up. He had pushed you too far.

“What would you like me to lick, Joonie? The dildo? Your cum on my fingers?” Your voice was more gentle and calm this time, no mocking in sight.

“The cum.”

You didn’t think twice. You licked your fingers clean, then straddled Namjoon comfortably, holding the toy as you tried to insert it.

“Doesn’t it hurt, Miss?”

You smiled. This was the submissive you wanted from the start. “It feels just fine, Joonie bear.” He was drenched in sweat, and you had to push his hair off his face to look him in the eye properly. You kissed his jaw, eyes rolling shut as the toy — significantly smaller than Namjoon — slipped in effortlessly. “I'm sorry I was mean to you, love.”

“It's okay.” Seeing him from this up close, so tired and weak, softened you a little.

“I said bad things about your job. I didn't mean it.” You pressed your lips to his, and he whimpered into your mouth, moving the dildo as he shifted for relief. “Do you need me to slow down? Are you still into this, baby?”

“Yes, I'm feeling good, Miss. Please, use me.” He looked so broken. “Use me.” This time he was truly begging.

“Can I use the toy just once? I'll use you afterwards, I promise, darling.” You stretched to kiss his brow. “I promise.”

He nodded, speechless, his head falling to the crook of your neck as he smelled the way his cologne changed as it mixed with your perspiration. It was more opulent and decadent, it became more exotic and dark, almost sweet.

“I wanna put the vibrations on max so I can press your ring to my clit and cum like that.”

He stretched to your mouth. “Please, do it.” He licked your jaw, his arms twitching. He would have grabbed your ass if he were free. He would have helped you grind on him, on the toy, on whatever.

You changed the setting quickly, feeling Namjoon exhale against you, slowly, his breath so cool on your burning skin. “I'm gonna cum again. I'm not sure I can fuck you after that, if that's what you were thinking.”

“You can,” you reassured him. “I'll give you a pause and fuck your face in the meantime.”

He cackled. “That's what I meant by 'use me'”. He groaned once you grabbed his cock, fixing its angle so that the knob of the ring rested on your clit perfectly. “Are we still power playing?”

You shook your head. “We're back to us if you want to.”

He nodded. “I want to.” You both hummed as you started undulating a little on him. Your tummy stroked his sex, the ring took care of your clit, your front adhered to his as you abandoned your body on top of his. “It was fun. But extenuating. I miss my daddy.” You kissed his neck, nipping at it very lightly.

“Daddy's always here, Vixen. Always yours.” He recognised your approaching high. Maybe you would be faster than him and—

There. You were done. Your thighs tightened all of a sudden, your body tensed for maybe five seconds before it all came loose. “Joonie,” you whined out, relief washing over you as you found the utmost pleasure. “Daddy,” you called, Namjoon fighting against the manacles restricting his wrists.

“I'm here, baby. I just need my wrists free, baby fox.”

You stayed loose and lazy for half a second before switching off the toy. Namjoon sighed in relief, your body once more abandoned against his. “Baby fox, free my wrists, please.”

You did as you were told, your hands skillfully operating without you even looking.

“Good girl,” he rewarded you as you undid the first cuff. He stayed still until they both plopped onto the comfy pillow of the armchair. “Get off that toy, babylove. Now.”

You lifted high enough for him to remove the dildo from inside you.

“I told you I would destroy you once you'd free me. Am I correct?”

You looked up at him. And there it was, that little cocky grin. “You said you would spank me.”

“I did not. I let you believe it.”

You faked outrage as you unglued yourself from him and stared. “Unfair!”

He pulled you closer and slid inside you, almost impaling you. “Fuck!” you squeaked before he grabbed your face.

“What?”

“Fuck,” you spat out. “Me,” you added, a look of challenge in your face.

He grabbed the back of your thighs and next thing you knew, your back was pressed to the wall, his hot chest against yours. “Hold on tight.”

#Namjoon smut #namjoon x reader #namjoon drabble #namjoon scenario #domme!reader #namjoon x vixen #52 hertz #bangtansorciere #thetruthuntoldnet #btswritersclub #houseofddaeng

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awakeshedreams · 3 years ago

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sugar and spice ( 2 )

pairing : resident bad boy!jjk x model student!reader

setting : highschool!au x stepbrother!au

summary :

a messy highschool!au x stepbrother!au where model student reader who has quite a few dirty little secrets sees her world take an unexpected turn when her mother comes home one day with an engagement announcement, to the father of none other than the school’s resident bad boy…. Jeon Jungkook.

genre : smut, for laughs, kinda pornish, slow burn with collosaly overwhelming sexual tension

rating: soft m ( for now ) due to adult content

warnings : unconventional relationship of sexual nature, tropes and clichès, teenagers partaking in porn-esque activities, made up things with made up people happening in a made up world, don’t like don’t read XD

wordcount : 3k

a/n: honestly overwhelming response for the first part. thank you so much 💜💜💜😳

here's the second.

somehow, this took up a new genre for itself while editing and became sort of a bit enemies to friends to partners in sin.

that is to say, I have a template for this but this could go any ( dirty ) way.

let me know if you like this and are curious to know how things play out.

also, spot the cameo. it's so dumb but still. I couldn't think of anything else.

enjoy.

1 2

Paranoia was an old friend of yours.

Very real, very scary and not very nice to you, your peace of mind or your tested soul.

In your head, you already played out a million different ways the image you’d spent years building could come falling apart.

All because of him. Jeon Jungkook.

Though much to your surprise and fortune- he didn’t tell anyone.

You spent the entire weekend fretting over nothing.

It was almost like none of it ever happened.

Like your parents weren't about to tie the knot soon. Like you weren’t about to become step siblings.

Like he didn't walk in on his said step sister to be masturbating in front of a camera.

In the aftermath of that inexplicably humiliating incident, you had to make up some dumb excuse to satiate your viewers for ending the stream so abruptly.

It was your cat they heard speaking, you told them.

Cats don’t speak of course, certainly not in a deep baritone. But they were effectively distracted by the string of full nudes you posted soon after that.

Those few accusatory comments saying that you did have a boyfriend after all were buried by those coming from very horny people who were over the moon about the little apology gift.

That was out of the way, but you had a more pressing matter at hand.

That night, Jungkook had walked out after saying what he had to say without another word, leaving you feeling stunned and oddly cold.

It was like all the heat in your body just ceased to exist the moment he closed the door behind him and left you there all on your own. You didn’t even get to finish but that was beside the point.

The point was, you thought that meant like with many other things, and as people should since this was a free world, he didn’t give a shit what you did with your free time or your body.

But as the days progressed, you couldn’t help but wonder if you were gravely mistaken.

Because contrary to that, he seemed to be up to something.

These days, he came around very often. Completely unprovoked and on his own accord.

It didn’t help that your mom loved having him around and feeding him.

Sometimes he was there for lunch after school. Other times he was there to fucking read the books in the study.

It was all ridiculous and quite honestly it was starting to get on your fraying nerves.

He didn’t even live there! You grumbled in pure frustration internally every time your mom asked you to add an extra plate for him on the dining table. This was your place!

Intentional or not he seemed to just love spending his time at your house for some reason.

But that just wouldn’t do.

The thing was you didn't know how to tell him you’d like to have the peace of mind he’d robbed you of by being all up in your living space every other day back.

He couldn’t just keep coming around.

Things were awkward enough without you having to see him often so already in between fleeting glimpses at school and lingering glances over the occasional dinner.

He might have been able to play it cool because it didn’t matter to him but this was a big deal for you.

He knew your secret and what else were you to do but be on edge and fidgety around him even though it seemed like he wouldn’t say a word of it?

But in the end, you couldn’t voice out your concerns. Not to him and certainly not to your mom.

So you were stuck here.

In between a massive rock and a very hard place.

Forced to endure even though you really felt like you’d been pushed past your limit.

Because he was there all the time.

For the most random reasons doing the most random things at the most random places at the most random time.

One time he had been casually listening to music while smoking by the pool and stroking the strings of his damned, matte black guitar.

You had been so stressed from all the work at school with the elections for new committee members amongst the juniors coming up so you thought to go for a swim to relax your self.

You honestly thought no one was around.

It was a Wednesday at noon so your mother was at lunch with some friends from high school. Plus, in the back of your mind, you’d reasoned that Jungkook usually only ever came over when she was around.

So you put on your best little bikini, grabbed a floatie and a soft drink and you went out.

Only to pause when you saw him sitting on one of the white lounging chairs, just looking at you with his earphones on, fingers having stilled mid strumming with a soft veil of smoke over his face.

You didn’t need to think twice to turn back.

There had been something about how his heavy lidded gaze took you in through the smoke as he did that thing where he cocked his head to the side that made you step back and quickly go back in.

You felt yourself get impossibly hotter when you realized you were probably giving him an eyeful of your poorly covered ass in motion.

You knew he was looking. You could feel his stare. Heavy. Intent. Dark. Swirling.

Like when he'd walked in on you.

You were hot and bothered the entire day.

In the end you couldn’t get anything productive done with a straight mind. And it was all his fault.

It took you about two weeks to crack.

That particular evening you were decided on telling your mom about this dilemma you were in.

Coincidentally, your mom had gone and invited him and his dad over for dinner.

Great. Just great.

You had no choice but to deeply consider the possibility of having to spill the beans another time.

Because choosing now to tell your mom meant you would probably need to tell his dad as well since they were attached at the hip every time he came over.

But no, you wouldn’t expose him in front of his father too. You weren’t cruel. Also you didn’t need the school's menace resenting you for making his strict, uptight dad turn on him.

If he didn’t have a reason to expose you before, he certainly would have one if things spiraled out that way.

So you bit your bitter tongue.

This time around, dinner was a more relaxed affair.

The weather was nice so your mom decided on a barbeque at your back yard.

This meant you wore a flowy sun dress like your mom did and he wore a loose navy shirt with the sleeves rolled up and some black casual beach shorts.

His tattoos were on full display.

You stared.

You were only distracted by them and how the patterns dance on his skin when his muscles flex as he flips whatever he is cooking on the fire because she’s never seen them in full before, you strongly reasoned.

Even with his sleeves rolled up when he was uniform, you'd only seen what he had on his forearm briefly other than the ones on the back of his hand.

That night didn’t count. It was too dim to see well. Also, that night technically didn’t exist.

Your eyes were particularly drawn to the little something peeking out the collar of his shirt.

You were too busy trying to figure out whether the curling ink around his collar bone was the flick of flames or the end of a dragon’s tail to notice that he’d lifted the hem of his shirt to wipe at the dots of sweet at his brows.

When you do, you suddenly found yourself being given an eyeful of impossibly ripped, ridged pure muscle.

You almost dropped your glass like you did your jaw.

What the holy fuck?

At that exact moment, he lifted his gaze and caught you staring.

He was probably expecting you to look away. Any decent human would expect that if they caught someone staring at them so openly. Gawking, to be completely honest.

But you didn’t. You quickly recover, pulling yourself together, and you met his gaze squarely.

You clutched the drink in your hand tight. Your pride wouldn’t let you look away.

In your own way, it was your little pay back, weak as it was.

He held your gaze with an unreadable look on his face for a moment with that signature slight tilt to his head and an added lift to his brow, before he looked away. Wordlessly, he let his shirt fall to push his hair back with his hand and went back to grilling.

You let herself breath then and tried not to think about how his biceps flexed at the motion, how his hair slicked back made him look even more dangerous and how the little smirk you caught on his lips was making you feel things she shouldn’t be.

Your mom suggested you all hang out at the pool once you were done eating.

You hadn’t been there since that day with him and quite frankly, you would rather not be.

Not with him.

You knew your mom had a swimsuit underneath her dress. She made you wear one as well.

She probably told them to come prepared for a swim too.

Just thinking about it made you short circuit.

You tore your gaze away from where he was standing with his father at the poolside, staring blankly at the surface as the older man talked to him about something.

You'd just come back from clearing the table with your mom.

When you guys got close enough, the men look your way. Jungkook’s eyes immediately landed on you. Meanwhile you just stare at your mom, trying to ignore his inexplicably fixed attention on you.

‘It’s shame we can’t swim.’

Your mother said, reaching for her boyfriend’s hand. She gave Jungkook a soft, apologetic smile.

‘Maybe once the weather is not so chilly.’ She sighed regretfully. ‘If I had known you were sensitive to the cold I would have suggested something else.’

‘It’s fine.’ Your eyes flicker to him. The smile he puts on is small and polite. ‘I’m not a very good swimmer anyway I’m afraid.’

‘Nonsense.’ She dismissed in good nature. ‘I heard you were quite the athlete in middle school. It’s all your father ever talks about sometimes. Right, honey?'

His father just grumbled.

You couldn’t hide your surprise at this revelation. You didn’t know this before.

Jungkook was quiet for a moment. Then he smiles a little with a shrug.

‘That was in the past.’

Your eyes just glided to him when he said that.

The tug at his lip looked wry and sad.

You’d never seen him like this before.

Solemn. Sombre. Not serious or intimidating or indifferent.

It felt like you were viewing him in a new light.

You settled on drinks by the pool. It was what your mom does to lighten things up.

It seemed like the gloom from earlier wasn’t all part just a part of your imagination.

Her mother suddenly chirped in between the light conversation.

'Why don't you guys get together and have a little group study?'

You suppressed the urge to groan and roll your eyes to the back of your head. You knew what she was trying to do and you wanted no part in it.

You had the words no way sitting at the tip of you tongue.

He beat you to it.

'That sounds nice,' he dared to say, even politely addressing your mom with Mrs. alongside her surname in the end uttered just the way she liked. 'I'd like that.’

You gawked at him in disbelief. Complete and utterly speechless.

Was he insane ??

'Doesn't it? Great!' Your mom is over the moon. 'Dear, take him to the study. You guys can do your teenager things and get along over books there.'

Your mom was loving and caring and she only ever wanted the best for you. You knew this.

Maybe she wanted them to get to know each other. Or maybe she just wanted to have some alone time with her man.

Either way, she practically shoved you two into the house with so much enthusiasm you wondered if she really loved you because suddenly you found yourself stuck inside your house with the last person you wanted to be with and you did not feel safe or rested.

The walk up the spirally stairs to the study had got to be one of the most intense, dragging moments of your whole life.

He remained a few steps behind you all through out the journey, following your lead in his own leisured pace.

A few steps too damn far behind in your opinion.

From that angle, you had a strong inkling that he could see your underwear from beneath your dress.

You knew this because you were familiar with what it felt like when he was staring.

What you couldn’t quite explain is why you didn't do a thing about it.

If awkward silence could manifest into a solid form for being so intense, there would have been a third occupant in the room the moment you two walked into the study.

It would’ve been so massive, all the high shelves and wooden tables lined up would have been demolished.

Jungkook remained the quiet person he was, looking around and skimming through the books on the shelves.

You were standing a safe distance away from him, absently doing the same. The books were interesting and all but you were admittedly more taken by the ink on his skin.

Up close you could clearly see the artistic patterns and symbols etched onto him.

While staring at the tats on his knuckles you couldn't help but also notice that the titles he picked up were rather complex.

Certainly not the kind of thing even high intellects reached for. Evidently, those tomes had been collecting dust in there for ages.

You were decidedly curious. Itching to ask. Hell, dying to know.

You dived before you could overthink it and find reasons not to satiate your rabid curiosity.

'You like Reader?' he paused and looked at you from the corner of his eyes. At his questioning look she gesture to the book he was holding. 'That's the third book of theirs you picked up.'

'Yeah.' he said casually, nodding a little while flipping through it. 'Their books are nice.'

A crippling lapse of silence ensues.

You tore your gaze away from his profile to stare at the titles in front of you with a burn at your cheeks, fiddling with the polished spines.

How fucking awkward. All of this.

He probably felt the same.

What were you even doing?

You thought about telling him to ignore your mom’s attempt at trying to make the two of you get along. He obviously wasn’t looking for company or a friend. Quite frankly, neither were you. Certainly not from him. You were just trying to be not rude. Something you aren’t really surprised he probably failed to understand in all honesty.

But then he spoke, dragging you out of your reverie.

'What about you?'

Your head shot up and you found that he was standing a lot closer than before, having moved to reach for yet another complicated book to idly browse through at the top shelf.

This close, you could can smell him. Soft mint and clean soap and moonlight, not smoke. He disregarded the pages in his hands to give you a side way glance.

‘What do you like?’

There was a perpetual spark swimming in the dark depth of his eyes. It was striking. Pretty even.

When he lightly raised a brow at you, your thoughts jumbled all over before it fell back into place and you realized you were staring very openly.

But this time was different from the last time. When he had been miles away, flashing you his ripped abs.

In your reverie, you hadn’t notices that he had leaned a little to meet your eyes, and that he was real close. Like real close, looking at you intently with his head cocked to the side questioningly, like he was wondering what was going on inside your head. You could feel his breath fanning your face.

Shit.

'Uh,’ you scrambled for an answer, quickly tearing your gaze away from him to appraise the bookshelf. Your face felt like it was on fire. Considering how he hadn’t moved, he could probably see just how blazed in the face you were. Out of pure instinct, you grabbed a random book and shoved it into him to make some space in between your bodies.

Maybe with a little too much force. There was a dull thump and it made you wince.

'This.’

You hated how squeaky and breathless you sounded. Like you’d just ran a marathon. Might as well have, with how hard and fast your heart was pounding.

Jungkook took it from you, and you allowed yourself to look at him as he looked the cover over, completely fine, like you hadn’t just smacked him in the chest with a book.

The corner of his lips lifted a little as he flipped it over, cocking his head the other way before he chanced you a glance, making you blink rapidly and stand on edge.

'You sure?' he asked, sounding pretty amused. You were confused for a moment until he held it up for you to see, flashing you a full on toothy grin like you’d never seen on him before. 'You like books about horse gentilia?'

The jump in your chest was something you quickly dismissed as being one of sinking dread rather than anything else.

All the color that had been congesting your face washed away.

If there was a time you truly wished the ground would swallow your entire existence whole, it would be right then and there.

word is telling me I made up the word genitilia but I’m pretty sure it’s real because it just rolls off the tongue ( smooth ) like butter like a criminal under the cover.

the hole is one of the recurring characters so please be nice to it.

alot of things happening here if you squint and look closely.

any-whomst've, hope you all liked it. let me know if you did and I don't know come say hi? 😳 have a nice day 💜

#bangtan #bts #bts imagine #bts fanfic #bts smut #bts imagines #bts scenario #jeon jungkook #jungkook scenario #jungkook imagine #jungkook smut #bts x reader #jungkook x reader #bts high school au #jungkook high school au #bts au #jungkook au

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nevertheless-moving · 4 years ago

Text

thanks again to @dykerory and @willowcrowned for this genius au. this is an incomplete collection of very specific set of headcanons/daydreams i had about a tangential version of your au that made me emotional in the middle of the woods. whenever you feel the time is right, i’m very eager to hear your og version on the ‘but obi-wan, tho!’, because i admittedly pushed this one’s resolution really far chronologically because i wanted batman to be involved.

continuation from here

note: my understanding of dcu is as sporadically informed as my understanding of the gffa.

newly graduated clark kent gets his first journalism job and starts settling more and more into the superman thing. the rest of the justice league has been around but his entrance onto the scene is the one that really inspires the various heroes to actually start coordinating to deal with the weirdness magnet that is dcu Earth. Clark is in his early 20s. Anakin is in his late 30s.

He’s been living on Earth, without the force, for nearly 2/3rds of his life. He has a close knit circle of friends who were kind to him even when they thought he was just a weird and crazy emo cult victim (the gradual increase of public encounters with aliens and superpowers sparks some awkward apologies, Anakin at 38 just waves his friends off, smiling and changing the subject, neither confirming nor denying his high school ramblings of spaceships and magic. it doesn’t really change anything).

He lives an hour’s drive from smallville, and runs a successful auto shop. people travel from pretty far to check out some of his more wild and specialized motorcycle abominations. makes enough money selling them to rich idiots to fund his free auto-class and auto-repair programs for impoverished communities.

It took a while but he eventually came around to the idea of helping people without physical force (ironically, this is happening around the same time Clark is coming to the realization that he can help people with physical force). Generally respected as a pillar of the community. When people start to realize how profoundly weird he is as a person in a number of inexplicable ways, someone will generally pull them aside and quietly whisper that he was in a cult at a child, no one really knows much about it except that it’s what inspired his anti-modern-slavery work, which is a little telling. Not married. Was in a long-term relationship for like 9 years. It didn’t end well but no-one knows the details.

Has several cats.

He’s- wistful but settled. He’s been through a lot of therapy. He meditates every morning and night, clearing his mind and examining his emotions in the way Obi-Wan taught him. He thinks Obi-Wan would be proud of him. He know his Mom would be.

Once he gets used to the idea, he never really stops loving the concept of learning just because. Duel bachelors degree in in african american history and american literature, masters in engineering, masters in astrophysics a phd in theoretical physics, another phd in medieval folklore. He’s worked a lot of jobs.

He was already pretty well versed in astronavigation back at the temple. Over the course of his time on earth, he gets more educated in earth astronomy and physics. With is increased knowledge, his theory for ‘how did i get here’ shifts from slight hyperdrive miscalculation, to big hyperdrive miscalculation, to some sort of hyperlane incident. he realizes that none of the stars he knows are familiar in any NASA database. He must be beyond wildspace, which helps him let go of the last bit of hurt he felt that Obi-Wan never found him.

Then he really learns physics- and- light doesn’t exactly work like that right? He thought it was just primitive Earth understanding but... he gets a phd more or less accidentally, trying and failing to disprove that the speed of life is constant constant.

Get’s another even more accidentally, explaining how alternate universes might form if we assume slightly different universal constants. He publishes his thesis anonymously around the same time metas are becoming a household term, and at least one science journalist speculates on it and how alternate universes might explain the increasing prevalence of wildly different superpowers. He doesn’t claim credit for the honorary diploma awarded to the unknown theorist- he doesn’t want to risk drawing any attention to him and by extension Clark, who’s alien differences are far more of the ‘military experiment interesting’ variety then his.

He stops tinkering with Clark’s ship. He finally gets how it works. Now that he realizes how FTL travel has to work in this universe, tinkering with the mechanical generation and harnessing of the massive quantities of energy necessary to do is startlingly familiar. But it doesn’t matter. No matter how far and fast he travels, he’s never going to be able to get back to the life he used to know.

Perhaps this is what being the chosen one actually means- he’s meant to live a life without the force, so that when he returns to it in death he’ll be able to somehow...educate? the force? maybe?

Ok, he’s not great at the metaphysical spiritual side of things, but he does accept that going back is out of his control, and he’s doing good here, even if it’s not galaxy altering.

Despite all the therapy, he never doubts that his early life was real. He has his saber and deep, deep down he can feel a spark in the kyber. He can’t do anything with it, but it’s there. There’s also pieces of the utter wreck that was his ship in the cellar, next to the sleek unblemished pod that Clark arrived in. Shortly before Clark becomes Superman, he asks for his help in melting down his old ship to make unearthly alloys.

He’s not surprised when Clark tells him he met a ‘real’ ‘magic’ user- it stands to reason that considering how relatively easy it is to convert energy from one form to another in this universe (Clark can fly), at least one kind would bend to sentient willpower in a similar way as the force does.

It’s still a little nervewracking showing his lightsaber to someone new for the first time in a decade. Zantana scrutinizes, bewildered.

“There is some sort of power locked within, but it’s unfamiliar to me,” she admits finally. “I could probably brute force it and force the energy to release itself, but it would likely destroy the container.” Anakin politely refuses.

Later, after the justice league’s formation, Clark mentions to J’onn that he has a friend who might be able to work on his ship. J’onn is extremely doubtful when he’s brought to a bizarre autoshop in the midwest that looks half-like a roadside attraction. Anakin sighs and digs his hands into the guts of the craft, muttering incomprehensibly and yelling at clark to melt down some pieces from the special scrap pile. A few days later he explains the patches he’s done to an impressed J’onn. When he asks how a human came to learn such things, he’s absently informed that,

“I used to work in a junkshop in Tatooine. All sorts of ship parts came through.”

“I’m unfamiliar with this world.”

“Tell you what, if you ever meet anyone who’s heard it of it, send them my way, and I’ll make your next repair free.”

“Oh! I’m afraid I don’t have any earth money...”

“Ugh, of course you don’t. it’s cool, capitalism sucks anyway and everyone’s entitled to free transportation, regardless of the area they happen to live. I do ask that if you can’t pay for the repairs that you spend an equivalent number of hours either attending one of my free auto classes, or volunteer at a community-led charities of your choice, here I’ll get you a pamphlet-”

So the Martian Manhunter becomes a weekly volunteer at a Midwestern Food Waste Reclamation Facility. J’onn J’onzz ends up becoming Anakin Skywalker’s friend well before he becomes comes truly comfortable around Kal-El. For a telepath, 39 year old Anakin’s Jedi orderly mind is a soothing relief.

(again, Anakin has spent far more time meditating on Earth then he ever did at the temple. Before all this, spent five years dutifully memorizing the Jedi way even as he struggled to live up it’s basic practices. For the first few years on earth, religiously practicing every meditation technique Obi-Wan ever taught him, thinking obsessively about the philosophies he never had time to really process, is just a desperate attempt to reconnect with the force, prove himself worthy of it. But even after he gives up on ever touching the force again, he keeps up the practice, he can’t release his emotions exactly, but he does find peace. The tendency to stop mid-rant to earnestly pronounce made up zen bullshit and then sit quietly for an hour before picking up on his tirade again as though there was no interruption is one of the things many things people find profoundly weird about him)

Kal-El doesn’t stop asking new aliens and dimensional travelers if they’ve ever heard of Coruscant, or Hutts, or the Jedi Order. Anakin might have given up, but Superman remembers his older brother scrubbing away his own tears to focus on helping Clark calm down enough to touch the floor again. The more the Kryptonian’s powers developed in alarming ways, the more Anakin set aside talk of missing his home galaxy. Anakin might have claimed it wasn’t like that, but Clark was determined to take every chance his increasingly weird life threw at him, no matter how vanishingly small.

In the middle of his first battle with Braniac, Clark starts insulting his incomplete database. The world collector pauses, demanding a more precise explanation. Clark complies, giving his best technical description of Coruscant’s cityscape, Tatooine’s binary star system, and so on. Braniac is so distracted that Superman recovers completely from his kryptonite poisoning and easily saves the day.

Neither the lantern corp or the denizens of the neutral zone have the answers. Superman doesn’t mention it it Anakin, but he never stops looking and listening.

“How did you even meet that guy?” Flash asks curiously after stopping to say hello on one of their after work laps of the country.

“Aliens among us support group,” Kal-El responds deadpan.

“Oh. Wait, what? He’s an alien? I thought he was from the future or something! You’re messing with me. No way that’s a thing. How many people are in the support group? This is a joke, right?”

“Sorry, most of them aren’t out and I don’t want to violate their privacy- a lot of them have high profile jobs. How do you think I met J’onn?”

“SUPES I’M FREAKING OUT RIGHT NOW YOU’VE GOTTA STOP”

Anakin is just sort of vaguely known by a solid chunk of the super community as ‘that one midwestern zen space mechanic’ and no one really questions it because everyone’s life has just gotten so goddamn weird. A few of them know he used to be a space wizard of some kind. Space wizards now being a regular hazard of life on earth, no one has reason to doubt this, and it’s as good an explanation as any for Anakin’s general vibe.

well. almost no one doubts this. Batman does not simply accept Anakin’s general bullshittery without carefully investigating and drawing his own conclusions. He does not share these with anyone.

But one day Clark- this is well after Superman became Kal-El to him, and not long after Kal-El tells him to call him Clark- comes up to him and asks for his help finding about an alternate universe. Knowing and dreading where this is going, Batman stalls,

“Shouldn’t you be asking one of the league members who regularly travels between universes?”

“I have, over the years,” Clark admits, awkwardly scuffing a boot on the floor of the cave. “But no one’s familiar with the exact one I’m looking for, and I thought since you’re a detective, and also one of the smartest people I know, you might be able to help me...”

“You’re an investigator yourself, and you can survive the vacuum of space,” Bruce shoots back flatly. “I’ve told you before Gotham is my priority, and this has ‘personal project’ all over it.”

“Come on, B, please,” Superman pleads, trailing Batman around the cave like an overgrown puppy. “In a few months it will have been 30 years! He’s my brother! Just let me see the research you’ve already done!”

“Who says I’ve already done research on your brother?”

Clark shoots him a look. And Bruce concedes the point with a grunt.

“I’ll need need to talk with him first,” Bruce finally concedes. “Bring him by the cave. Take the-”

“Take the tunnel entrance, I know, I know,” Clark agrees with a grin. “This doesn’t mean he’s authorized to know your secret identity. Thanks Bruce, this means a lot. I’ll ask him tomorrow about his schedule.”

Superman flies off and Batman scrubs his face with a gloved hand. After a moment he pulls up Anakin’s file on the main monitor. Bruce honestly respects and likes the man, as much as he respects and likes anyone who’s not family. He admires his sense his style, appreciates his upgrades to the batmobile, and is impressed by both this civil rights work and his additions to the scientific community.

That doesn’t mean he’s not convinced that Anakin’s brother is a bit insane. Again, he’s not judging! He dresses like a bat to scare random henchmen and beat up actual demigods! He wishes his rogues gallery was as capable of directing their ptsd-inspired delusions and staggering intellects towards such productive pursuits!

Bruce was already in quiet awe of the Kent’s ability to raise an outrageously superpowered being without blowing up a chunk of the country; their success in derailing a supervillian origin story just puts him over the edge. He stares at the three most likely profiles he’s pulled together. Christen Jones, from a negligent family, death certificate filled out suspicously sloppily at age 3. Earl Lucas, went missing at age 9, both parents dead in a violent assault. And Jake Hayden, who at age 5 disappeared along with the rest of his family in a seismic accident later linked to Luthercorp.

Anyone of them could have suffered on the streets for years and coped by establishing an elaborate fantasy world, aided by self medication, only to eventually be picked up by the Kent’s and start healing. Certainly Anakin had the intellect to create worlds in his mind. All his rogues were smart enough to create their own little realities in their heads- it doesn’t mean they were actually reachable.

Unfortunately Anakin had a Kryptonian younger brother who was determined to actually find the space wizard knight homeworld, even as the 'Jedi’ in question had slowly moved away his reliance on the delusion as an adult. Batman really didn’t see any way bringing up his conclusions to Anakin or Clark could possibly be helpful, and so many alien allies had a ‘If you find about the Jedi please contact Kal-El of Krypton on Earth’ pamphlet that it would be excruciatingly awkward to try and discretely correct anyone.

Bruce was not looking forward to this conversation.

#star wars #star wars au #dc #crossover #batman #anakin skywalker #corn boy anakin au

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newtonsheffield · 3 years ago

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Hey Molly!!

I had to watch the finale of one of my favorite TV shows where they killed off the female lead right after she got together with the guy we’ve all been waiting for her to get together with - for 8 years.

It was depressing as heck! But you saved my depressed little heart with Anniversary so first off thank you so much for this awesomeness of an AU, I honestly can’t get enough of it!! ♥️

I read this interesting fic the other day and I was wondering if we could see something along these lines in the BSCU?

Forgive me if this sounds like super weird and feel free to ignore it but I’m a weirdo who likes a touch of angst mixed with the fluff ahhh

Kate gets appendicitis? Anthony is freaked out? Then fluff!

But again, sorry for such a weird ask! You don’t have to do it!!

As always thanks for being so amazing!

You’re truly the best ♥️

Hello! Hello! Hello!

Ugh! I hate when they ruin ships like that! Like thanks for wasting my time!!!

I'm so glad Anniversary made you feel better though!

Ooof Imagine Anthony going absolutely spare because his girlfriend just kind of doubled over and then went really clammy and like it's not because he said he wanted to marry her right?!

(Let's see if it is!)

Anthony couldn't quite put his finger on it, but Kate had been acting a little oddly this morning. They'd been laying in bed this morning, Anthony's arm cushioning Kate's head as she scrolled through social media. "Ugh! Fucking Hell!" Kate had groaned, rolling her eyes. Anthony had made a humming noise looking up from nuzzling at her collarbone. "A girl I went to school with just got married." She said a little scathingly. Anthony had felt his eyebrows raise, "And we hate that because?" His heart thrumming wildly, surely she wasn't upset because she wasn't-? "We hate that because she used to trip me in the hallway, and she also had guests sign their initials on a bird house. I would die." Kate said a little primly. Laughter bubbled in Anthony's chest, echoing through his bedroom. "I promise when we get married, there won't be a bird house in sight." He said unthinkingly. Kate stilled for a moment and then stood from his bed wincing slightly.

"I have to go to Mary's. I promised I'd help her with some stuff." She said quickly, making her way towards the bathroom, leaving Anthony in their bed wondering what on earth had happened.

He'd been making breakfast when she came downstairs, looking a little peaky as he slid the plate towards her, eggs and toast piled high. "Sorry, I'm gonna skip it. I'm feeling a little queasy, and I was just a little sick when I got changed." Anthony felt his brow furrow, anxiety bubbling in his stomach. "I better head off." "Are you sure you should go to Mary's?" concern colouring his voice, his hand reaching out for her forehead. "Anthony, I'm fine. It's probably just... my period starting or... not that I'll be fine." She said swatting his hand away. Kissing his cheek quickly "I'll be back later." "I love you." Anthony called out as she waved back at him.

Anthony spent all morning trying to busy himself around the house. Kate had left in such a rush, she hadn't even looked at her breakfast, had swatted his hands away and as pathetic as it was, he couldn't remember the last time she'd left the house without telling him he loved her. God, had his stupid comment about getting married made her panic? He wanted to marry her, he was certain and they lived together but maybe they weren't at the stage in their relationship where you could casually mention a wedding that hadn't technically been proposed yet. No, he was being ridiculous, he told himself, She'd said she was feeling unwell, she'd been sick, she was feeling queasy this... morning. Oh god. Kate was pregnant. Something fluttered in his stomach at the thought. Would it really be so terrible if she was? They were committed and he was sure that-

His descent into madness was stopped by his phone ringing Edwina Sheffield (Kate from Work's sister) flashing on the screen a smile coming to his face at the joke. "Hey Anthony," Edwina said quickly, continuing before Anthony greet her. "Um I'm going to need you not to panic but Mum and I are just driving Kate to A&E." Anthony's heart stopped he could hear Kate's voice in the background "For fuck's sake Eddie don't tell him like that!" A scuffle for the phone as Anthony fought for breath, panic welling up inside him. "Honey, please don't panic." Kate's voice winced, Anthony's panic abated only very slightly. "Don't panic?! Kate what happened?!" He choked out. "Please don't be mad, but I think I have appendicitis? Can you just come to the hospital?" Anthony was out the door before she could even tell him where.

He burst through the accident and emergency doors startling the desk nurse. "Um Hi," He said his voice high, his breath wrenching from his chest. "My ah.. my wife's mum brought her in a short while ago? Kate Sheffield?!" "Anthony?" Edwina's voice called out from behind the desk, gesturing him through. Anthony shot an apologetic look at the bemused nurse as he skirted around the desk following after Edwina. "So Kate's your wife huh?" Edwina said smirking, nudging his shoulder with her own. Anthony's eyes bulged as he realised what he'd said, floundering a little. 'Shut up, Eddie. Anyway, she might be dying. Hardly the moment for a romantic proposal." He quipped, his stomach rolling. Edwina fixed him with shrewd stare. "Is there going to be a romantic proposal?"

Anthony shrugged, unable to trust the words that would come out of his mouth for a moment. "Probably." Edwina smiled brightly. "Kate's fine by the way. She's being prepped for surgery which means she's a little...high honestly. She's high as a kite." Edwina said pulling back the curtain with a flourish to reveal Mary attempting to wrestle Kate back into bed. "I'm fine Mary promise I just wanna go home to Anthony and our dog!" Kate was saying her voice a little high. Mary sighed. "Katie, when the morphine wears off I think you'll feel differently." "Anthony!" Kate yelled suddenly realising he'd arrived. And Anthony felt himself relax just a little though worry still swirled in his stomach, he didn't have time to worry about himself.

"Katie, can you get back in bed for me?" He said softly, coaxing her back under the covers. "Mary Anthony came! I love Anthony!" Kate sing-songed happily taking his hand. Mary smiled gently. "I know Katie." "Anthony! They're gonna take out my appendix!" Kate said brightly, as though it was the best news she'd ever heard. Anthony chuckled as he ran his hands through her hair. "Do you wanna know a secret?" Kate said in what Anthony was sure was supposed to be a whisper. He nodded suddenly afraid of what she'd say as he sister watched on with amusement. "It's a really good one." She sing songed again. "Before the pain started, I thought I was pregnant!" Anthony's heart stopped as Mary let out an odd squeak Edwina a loud cackle.

"And like I wasn't even mad about it because I wanna have a baby with you! It would be so cute! It might have curly hair, and maybe your nose and your angry little eyebrows!" Kate said happily her finger running over his brows forcing them to frown as she chuckled. "Mary Don't you think my baby with Anthony would be so CUTE?!" "Okay! We're ready for you now!" A Nurse said making to wheel the bed away. "Just maybe think about it!" Kate said happily. "Kate I would love to have this conversation when you aren't high." Anthony said kissing her forehead lightly, his heart pounding as his girlfriend was wheeled down the ward yelling out "I'm not high thank you!"

"Please tell me I didn't say anything too terrible." Kate winced when she woke up, looking ruefully at her jelly as Anthony fussed around her. "Mmmm you just told Mary and Edwina how badly you want to have a baby with me." Anthony chuckled fluffing her pillows. Kate froze, her spoon halfway to her mouth. "You're fucking kidding." "Oh but I'm not. You want it to have my and I quote Angry Eyebrows." Anthony laughed settling himself on the bed beside her. Kate huffed, her eyes darting to him furtively, clearly gauging his reaction. "Well I'm not... opposed to the idea." Anthony's stomach dropped again. He cleared his throat. "Me either." He saw Kate's shoulders relax a smile threatening to burst onto her face. "I might let you recover from this surgery first though." "Oh my god, such a gentleman. Catch me I'm swooning."

#mary is quietly dying at the thought of a grandchild #even if kate is propositioning anthony while high #like not the time or place Kate but I like the spirit #bridgerton and sons au #kathony #anthony x kate #anthony bridgerton #kate sheffield #kate sharma #molly's asks and answers

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manndo · 4 years ago

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i see you [din djarin x reader]

gif credit

pairing[s]: din djarin (the mandalorian) x gn!reader (no descriptors, no y/n)

warning[s]: slight angst, fluff, kissing, mentions of arousal (barley there & nothing really descriptive) and ridiculously canon divergent (see notes).

word count: 4.0k

prompt[s]: from this list, based off the prompt ‘overhearing they have feelings for you’

summary: you just wanted to tell the child a bedtime story, and apparently, you had something you needed to get off your chest. but you weren’t aware you had an audience besides the child.

author’s notes: alright, for the last day of 2020 (i’m still in 2020 over here, unfortunately), i’ve decided to take a leap of faith and post my first mandalorian fic! i started writing this before episode 13 of season 2, before we learned the child’s name and way before the separation (i am still recovering from the emotional strain of this ending). and obviously, i didn’t finish it until now -- almost two weeks after the last episode. so, as i mentioned in my warnings, this is canon divergent -- basically anything from episode 13 to 16 did not happen in this fic. so, this means that grogu is referred to as the child/the little one/the kid in this fic. in the future, i am hoping to write more canon friendly fics, but who knows?? the season finale was bittersweet and honestly?? i just want my dad/son duo back together. 😢but anyway! any and all mistakes are my own. please feel free to comment/like/reblog, whatever you see fit. enjoy! ❤️and goodbye 2020, hello 2021! 🍻

You were tinkering with a malfunctioning blaster down in the hull when you heard him. At first, the cry was soft, barely there — perhaps Mando had said or done something to irritated him while they sat in the cockpit together. However, after another few moments, the cries grew louder and longer. Carefully, you set the blaster aside, and wiped your hands on the cloth next to you before pushing yourself off from your seated position on Mando’s bunk. Within seconds, you were climbing the ladder and entering the cockpit to find Mando standing from his seat, holding the child away from him as the child wailed. Immediately, Mando lifted his head toward you.

“Aren’t you supposed to be watching him?” he asked, a hint of irritation in his modulated voice. You couldn’t see his eyes, but you could imagine the glare he was giving you.

You sighed heavily, shaking your head, and took two steps forward to grab the child from Mando’s outstretched arms. Unfortunately, the child did not stop his crying. You tucked him against you. “Technically, yes. That’s what you hired me for, but you know this little one has his ways of sneaking around,” you muttered, reaching out to grab the little one’s tiny hand. Even through his wailing, the little one’s finger immediately wrapped around your thumb. You hummed soothingly and began to gently bounce him, keeping your eyes trained on him. “And, it wasn’t like you were complaining ten minutes ago when he was being a perfect little angel,” you mumbled, rubbing your thumb gently over the little one’s finger and looked up to Mando. Mando snorted, but said nothing as he sat himself back down in the pilot’s chair, and turned himself away from you. You knew he didn’t need to be there — the Crest was in hyperdrive and most likely on autopilot — but, you found he preferred it to other parts of the ship. Then again, when you’re always on guard like him, well, it made sense to be in the cockpit.

“He’s probably just tired, Mando,” you said, glancing away from him and back to the child, who was, thank the Maker, not wailing anymore. However, he was still crying, still taking in big breaths and looking at you with wide, glassy eyes. “Just needs a little nap. Ain’t that right, little one?” The child gave you a sniffle, and hung his head. “Come on,” you said quietly, giving the child’s finger a little squeeze, “let’s get you tucked in.”

You turned on your heel, and carefully made your way down to the hull once more, all the while whispering comforting words to the child in hopes to quell his cries. It seemed to work — for the most part. He still seemed upset, even if he wasn’t really crying anymore. More like, sniffles and whines. But, he was still restless against you. Even if he was overtired, it was clear he wasn’t too keen on actually being put down because the moment you had set him into the makeshift, hanging bed that Mando had crafted for him, he tried to pull himself out. “Ah, ah, little one, don’t you even think about it,” you reprimanded him softly, pushing him gently back down into the swinging bed. He let a small whine in disagreement, but didn’t try moving again.

“Maybe I should tell you a story,” you said, your voice low, calm. He blinked at you, his eyes still looking a little watery, and gave you another small whine. You began to rock the bed. “You know, I don’t think I’ve really told you any stories since I came on this ship,” you said, reaching up and running a finger over his ear, from base to tip. He made a small coo of happiness, and you smiled. “Granted, it hasn’t been that long since your dad hired me, has it?” You’d only been traveling with them for six months, give or take. You still sometimes had to, metaphorically, pinch yourself that this was your life now — galavanting around the galaxy with a Mandalorian and his charge.

You felt a small push against your finger, which had been resting on the tip of the child’s ear, followed by a small whine. You let out a short chuckle, and moved your finger, running it over his ear again. He leaned into the touch. “You know, the first time I saw you and your dad, I didn’t know what to think. I’d never met a Mandalorian before, but I knew of them, knew the stories of them. Who hadn’t?” You moved your hand from running to over his ear, to the top of his head. He cooed softy, eyes fluttering closed. “But, what surprised me the most was you, little one. Not because I had never seen creature like you. No, that wasn’t it. It was because you were with him. A Mandalorian and a child,” you whispered, noticing that the little one’s eyes were only half open now. You gave the top of his head a small scratch, and his eyes closed completely. “Even if you are older than both of us,” you added, a small chuckle escaping your lips as his eyes opened again, a bit slower than last time.

“It’s funny,” you mumbled, keeping your eyes trained on him. You watched as he snuggled himself a little deeper into his bed. “I never would have thought that one minute, I’d be fixing a blaster your dad needed repaired, then the next being on his ship, taking care of you.” A brief pause. “You know, he saved me, little one?” You felt a lump form in your throat, and you swallowed it. “Life hadn’t been easy when you two came around. Sure, I had a roof over my head and enough credits to keep me fed. But, it had been a lonely life.”

You took a deep breath. “My parents had been gone for a few years, and I had no siblings to seek comfort in. I worked for a nasty man, who liked to belittle me every chance he got, even if I was a better technician than he was. I had a few acquaintances, a few people I’d chat with every once in a while, maybe grab a drink with them at a cantina, but I didn’t have any real friends,” you paused. “Well, I did. At one point. But, things happen.” A heavy, dejected sigh escaped your lips. “People change. Life changes.” Absentmindedly, you ran your finger down the child’s cheek. His eyes were now half-open, the child hell bent on staying awake. Stubborn, like his father for sure. “But, now I’m here. And, I wouldn’t trade it for anything.” You pursed your lips in thought. “Well, it would be nice to have a larger, more comfortable bed. But, then I wouldn’t have you, and I wouldn’t have your dad.” The little one cooed quietly, and you chuckled pulling your finger from his cheek.

You became silent then, let yourself just watch the little one. He was settling nicely into his bed, looking more relaxed, his eyes staying closed. It should have only been a few more moments, and he’d be asleep. Just a few more moments and he’d be resting peacefully, and you could go back to working on that blaster. Just a few more minutes.

“I love him, you know,” you said, your voice barely a whisper. It was only when you heard the little one coo that you realized that you’d said that out loud. Your eyes widened as you took in the little one, his own eyes now open once more. He was looking at you, head titled slightly, big brown eyes focused on you. He blinked once, twice as if he was waiting for you to elaborate.

Fuck, you hadn’t planned to say that out loud. But you had — to the little one, no less. Sure, he couldn’t tell Mando what you’d said, so that was an advantage. But, Maker, what were you thinking?

You had only just admitted to yourself you were in love with the Mandalorian. You had spent weeks denying your feelings. After all, you hadn’t known each other long, there was no way you were actually in love with him. It had to be, you figured, because of your living situation — you two were in constant contact with each other, barely any room for privacy or time alone. He was the only person you could hold a full conversation with (not that you didn’t have conversations with the child, but it was very one-sided). So, maybe, it was just the situation. It had to be. But, as the days passed by, you realized that wasn’t the case. You had fallen for the Mandalorian. You were in love with him. You were in love with Mando.

A heavy sigh escaped your lips as you closed your eyes, and let your head fall into your hands. “You weren’t supposed to hear that, little one,” you said, the words slightly mumbled against your palms. “Nobody was supposed to hear that. And, especially not your dad — not that I don’t want him to know, I do. But, we haven’t been together long — in the sense of me being on the ship, you know — and I fear it will make him distant again. He was so distant when I first came aboard, but now.” You let out another heavy sigh, and move your hands away from your face to glance up at the little one. He has pulled himself up to look over the edge of his makeshift bed, his tired eyes looking down at you. There is a sad look up on his face, his large eyes searching yours. “I don’t know exactly how he feels, little one. But, I’ve seen his heart. You’ve seen his heart.” You paused and took a breath. “It’s in the little things. The way he sits with you when he flies. How he tries to teach you things — even if they backfire in his face,” you said, and a smile crossed your lips. The child gave a small tired little giggle. “Making this bed for you,” you said softly, reaching up and running your fingers over the material. “Making your little pouch. All those things, and more, show me his heart, show us his heart.” You leaned forward and pressed your forehead gently against the child’s. “He would do anything to keep you safe, little one. Anything. And that, makes him a good man.” The child let out a soft sound, and you pulled away from him, a soft smile on your lips.

There was a brief silence that settled between you. You let it hang in the air for a brief moment before speaking again. “Alright, come on, you need to go to sleep now. Apparently, trying to tell you a bedtime story is not the way I should go,” you said with a small chuckle. The child gave a small whine. “Don’t try and fight with me. We both know you’re tired. So come on, close those big, beautiful eyes,” you said, your voice dropping in volume. His eyes fluttered closed, and you reached out your fingers, letting it brush against his tiny hand. “There you go,” you muttered, continuing to brush his little hand with your finger in a soothing gesture. His eyes stayed closed, and his body seemed to relax into his bed. Another few moments, and his breathing had evened out, and you knew he was finally asleep. You let out a small sigh of relief. “Sleep well, little one,” you whispered, and with on final brush to his hand, you stood up from the bunk. You pressed the switch, shutting the bunks door with a small clink. You had barely turned away from the door when you heard a loud thunk, and found yourself coming face to face with Mando.

“Maker!” you yelped, practically jumping out of your skin, hand slapping against your chest. You could feel your heart pounding against your ribcage as you looked at Mando with wide eyes. “Mando,” you said, voice slightly out breath as you pressed your hand a little harder to your chest, physically and mentally willing your heart to slow down. “You can’t — fuck, you scared me. You’re lucky I closed the damn door before you did that. What if he’d woken up? I had a devil of a time getting him to sleep, you know,” you muttered, hand falling from your chest and back to your side.

“Did you now?” he asked, a hint of sarcasm in his tinny voice. You furrowed your brow, as he took another step closer to you, his beskar helmet only a few inches away from your face. He titled his helmet, and you could swear, if he didn’t have it on, there would be a smirk on his face. You felt a twinge of panic fill your face — had he, had he heard you? You mentally shook your head of that thought. You were being paranoid.

“I did,” you huffed as you turned away from him, taking a step toward where you had left the malfunctioning blaster.

“Maybe if you hadn’t talked so much,” he muttered, and you felt your entire body freeze, “he might have fallen asleep faster.”

It felt like you couldn’t breathe. Blood was rushing in your ears. Maker, he heard you. He heard you blabbing your feelings, you feelings for him, to the little one. The quick landing, the sarcasm you had heard— it all made sense. He had been there, above the two of you, listening, hearing every word you said. Your confession. You felt yourself begin to get warm with embarrassment, and you willed your body to move. You wanted to run, but where could you run? You were on a ship, in the middle of space — there was no where to go. Nowhere to hide.

You closed your eyes, and took a deep breathe before you slowly turned back to face Mando. You didn’t have to see his eyes to know he was staring at you, but Maker, did you wish you could see them. Wish you could see his face. Maybe then you could tell what he was thinking. Did he feel something too? Or, was he disgusted at the thought of you having feelings? Was he about to dismiss your feelings, maybe even drop you off at the next inhabited planet, leaving you there. Leaving you alone, again. No Mando, no kid. You swallowed that fear, those thoughts. “Listen, Mando, I—”

“Close your eyes.”

You blinked in confusion. “W—what?

“Do you trust me?”

You didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”

“Then, close your eyes. And, promise me, you won’t open them.” You blinked, too stunned at his request to answer immediately. His gloved hand wrapped around your wrist, a barely there touched. “Promise me.” It should have been a demand, but it came out more as a desperate plea.

You looked down at the hand gently holding your wrist, then back at the beskar helmet in front of you. “Yea,” you breathed out, your voice barely above a whisper, “I promise. I promise,” you repeated. There was a moment of stillness where neither of you moved before you took a slow, deep breath and let your eyes fall closed.

You felt Mando let go of your wrist before you heard a clicking sound, followed by a soft hiss. It was followed by a loud clink of metal against the floor of the ship, near your feet, you thought. Then, there was a gloved hand on your cheek, the fabric rough against your skin. You felt the brush of his thumb over your cheek, and your breath hitched in your throat. “Mando, what are—”

The end of your question was gently swallowed by his lips.

Maker, you had not expected this. Immediately, you had wanted to open your eyes, because you weren’t sure this was real. Was he — was Mando really kissing you? But, he was kissing you. His soft lips were pressed against yours, not bruising, but not gentle either, and it didn’t take long before you felt his tongue swipe across the seam of your lips, seeking permission. You parted your lips with ease.

At the first slide of his tongue against yours, a small whimper escaped your lips, your hand darting out as you blindly grabbed at his shoulder. You fisted as much of the material of his undershirt in your hand while the other part pressed against the cool beskar, and tugged, pulling him flush against you. You felt, more than heard, him groan when your bodies met, his hand tightening ever so slightly on your jaw while his other arm wrapped around your middle, holding you against him. You could feel warmth spreading in your limbs, and an excitement you hadn’t felt in a long time filling your veins and culminating between your legs.

You would have kept kissing him, would have let yourself suffocate in his kisses, but a few seconds later, you felt him begin to pull away. Before his lips could leave yours completely, you pulled his bottom lip between your teeth, giving it a quick nip. And, fuck, the sound that came out of his mouth. You felt another spike of arousal course through you, and you almost, almost opened your eyes. But, you promised you wouldn’t, and you knew what it meant if you did. So, you forced yourself to keep them closed as you tried to regain control of yourself, your hand still clutching his shoulder.

There’s a moment where the two of you stand there, your breath mingling with one another as you both tried to calm your racing hearts. But, it is brief, and before you know it, the hand that was resting on your cheek falls, and the arm around your waist loosens and you feel him step away. Immediately, you want to pull him back to you, bring his lips back to yours. But, you don’t. You’re frozen once more — in fear, in shock, in elation, you’re not quite sure.

You took a shuddering breath. “Mando—”

“Din,” you hear him say, and it sounds pure, smooth. It’s then you realize the helmet is still off. You can’t help the butterflies that form in your stomach at the sound of his unmodulated voice. His voice. It sounds like liquid gold to your ears. But then ,you hear the sounds you heard before he kissed you, the click and hiss, of the helmet falling back into place.

You wait a beat before you let your eyes flutter open, and you come face to face with the beskar helmet once more.

“Din Djarin,” he repeated, and reached out, brushing one of his gloved fingers down your cheek, over your jaw, and stopping at the nape of your neck. “My name is Din Djarin.”

His finger began to draw an absentminded pattern across your shoulder. You could tell by the tilt of his head that his eyes were focused on that finger. That finger that kept moving as the moments ticked by, never stopping, never making any sense against your skin. For the first time since you’d met him, you could tell he was nervous.

You knew he didn’t tell his name to anyone. You had asked when you’d met him what his name was. He had told you to call him Mando. You had thought it odd, but did not think it was your place to push him (you had only just met him, after all). So, you called him Mando, as did everyone else you had come in contact with. But, four months later, you decided to finally push the subject. He told you that he had not used his birth name since he was a child, since he was sworn into the Creed. There were only a few who knew name, and only due to an extenuating circumstance, he had said, making it clear he did not tell anyone. Nobody should have known his name — and from what you could tell, he had no plans of telling any one in the future.

But, here he was, standing in front of you, telling you his name. Willingly giving you this piece of information about himself. You knew he couldn’t show you his face — not yet, not now — but he could give you this. He could give you this part of himself. If the kiss wasn’t enough for you to know that he felt something for you, this sealed the deal. It wasn’t an outright “I love you”, but to you, it was something more, something deeper than that. This was him trusting you, him giving you a part of himself. It filled your heart with joy.

“Din,” you whispered, letting the name roll of your tongue, and filling the space around you. His finger had stopped its’ random movements, and his head tilted up, and you were face to face with the all too familiar beskar helmet. You smiled softly and wondered if he was smiling behind it too. You reached out, and let your fingertips dance over the cool metal. “Din Djarin,” you said, letting yourself try out his full name.

It was beautiful. It was him.

“It suits you,” you said, resting your palm against the side of his helmet. “I love it.”

Din let out a small, breathy, modulated chuckle. “You do?”

You nodded. “I do, cause it’s you.” You leaned forward, pressing your forehead against the cool metal of his helmet, your eyes fall closed. “And, I love you, Din Djarin,” you whispered softly, a small smile tugging at your lips. You wished you could have seen his face, but instead, you heard an intake of breath before you felt a strong arm wrap around your waist, hand splayed over your hip. His gloved fingers pressed into your hip bone.

“You mean that?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

You hummed and nodded, letting your free hand fall onto his chest, right over his heart. You couldn’t feel his heart under the beskar chest plate, but you imagined it was beating rapidly, just like yours. “I do.” Perhaps, it was too early to say such things, to declare that you loved him. Most people might think you were crazy, and maybe you were, but that didn’t matter. You loved him — you loved Din.

“Even without,” he paused, and you heard him take a breath. You let your eyes fuller open, and you pulled back a hair, just enough to be able to take him in. He didn’t have to finish his sentence for you to know what he was talking about — even without seeing his face.

“Hey,” you said softly, making sure his he was paying attention to you. “I don’t need to see your face.”

You heard a small, disbelieving chuckle. “Don’t need to see my face, eh?”

“Nope,” you said, popping the ‘p’. You tilted your head in thought. “Well, I mean, do I want to see your face? Absolutely.” You moved your fingers across the cheek of his helmet, to the visor, letting it trace the T-shape. “I want to see the color of your eyes, your nose, your mouth. The wrinkles and lines on your face. All of it.” You let your finger come to rest at the bottom of his helmet, just on the rim. You ran your finger over the smooth metal. “But, I know what that means for you, and I’m willing to wait for that. Your face is your face, and I’m sure it is a handsome face.” Another small chuckle escaped Din’s lips. “But, I don’t need to see it to know what I feel in my heart, Din.”

“You don’t?” He sounded surprised,

You shook your head. “I don’t. Because, I’ve seen you, Din Djarin,” you said, your voice filled with conviction as you looked at him straight on, right where his eyes would be behind that beskar helmet. “I’ve seen you.”

#din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #din djarin imagine #din djarin imagines #the mandalorian imagine #the mandalorian imagines #my writing

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bump1nthen1ght · 4 years ago

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Thicker than Water (Demon x Reader) Chapter 2

Pairing: Fem!Reader/Gender Fluid!Demon

Genre: High Fantasy

Warnings: Panic attacks, mentions of past trauma

Word Count: 3165 words

Summary: You spend a day with your new companion

Chapter 1

“How about this one? It looks rather ripe.”

No, Mistress. The air of decay lingers around it, I fear it will begin showing signs of mold within a day.

“Oh, good eye.” You set the orange down, making sure to hide it away so no other unlucky customer may buy it, wiping your hands on your skirt. “What about this one?”

That one’s fine.

“Sweet.” You say, adding it to the pile of fruit accumulating in your arm. You double check the list. “Alright, I think that’s about everything.” You come up to the stand-worker and set down your fruits on their scale, finagling for the wallet in your pocket.

So many different types of produce. Is this merchant’s estate really so large that they can grow all these things?

“Uh, not exactly.” You mutter, before reminding yourself to speak inwards, as only you can hear the demon lingering nearby. “They actually represent several farms, giving them a cut of the money so the workers can focus on cultivation. Some farms have their own stalls for specialized goods, but these bigger ones are typically conglomerates.” After successfully grabbing your coin purse, you hand the worker some coins and begin loading your bag.

Ah, how convenient.

“Yes, I’d say so.” You once again check your list, mentally checking off the needed groceries. “Okay, I believe that is all the essential stuff. How about we check out some novelty stalls? I hear there’s a fine jewelry maker near the center of town.”

The only jewelry in the Nine Hells is that forged by the damned. Carved out of the husk of dead dimensions.

“So, is that a yes?”

Yes please.

“Cool.”

As you walk along the thinning market crowd, dodging between bakers and families, your shadow twists and turns. Occasionally and discreetly, it will fall behind you and stare at a particularly interesting stall, before leaping back into the darkness and reattaching to your feet. The crowd is so focused on their eye-level, what to be bought, who to sell to, no one really notices the abnormality.

After that night, that horrible night, you woke up in your bed; Sweaty and exhausted, but nonetheless harmed. Your mother had rushed to your side with a pitcher of water, relieved that your fever had finally broken. You had been asleep for a whole 24 hours, your parents finding you in your bed after you didn’t come down to breakfast. Your temperature ran high and you had tossed and turned with some kind of night terror, but recovered rather quickly.

After you had shoo’d your mother away, accepting the large breakfast and assuring her you were fine, the demon had appeared from behind the door frame. You nearly threw a fork right at its face.

-----------

“So that was….It wasn’t just a nightmare?” You muttered, eyes lost in your bowl of cheese grits.

“Yes, my mistress, it was real.” The demon steps out from the shadow of the door, causing you to flinch as their long horns scrape against the low ceiling of your room. They take another step back. “Your body gave out after you spoke your demand. I do apologize for the intrusion, but I searched your mind to find your home and brought you back to your own bed. Was that a correct assumption?”

You nod, shakily stirring your spoon, absentminded. You force your eyes to meet the demon’s, trying to contain your quivers.

“And now-” You gulp, keeping what little composure you have left, “-are you here to collect?”

The demon quirks their head, horns audibly scratching the hardwood. Their brow furrows as they contemplate, before their eyes widen with understanding. They shake their head and take another step forward. You clench your fingers around the blanket, but hold your flinch.

“No, mistress. You are not in debt to me, not in any way. That is not the ritual which was performed.”

You quirk your eyebrows, befuddled. “But, I thought that-”

“The wish you made was not so heavy to require the payment of a soul. Nor would you have been able to make such a wish in the first place.” Without you realizing it, the demon had walked over to your bed. Their staggering height should be intimidating, but the intonation of their words and the look in their eye is calming. Almost reassuring. “The payment was made when you gave me this permanent physical form.” The demon explains, flexing their fingers and faintly tracing the lines of your bedpost. “By pushing your body to the brink of death, you were able to reach across the veil and pull me through . Usually, a soul-paying ritual brings a demon temporarily to the mortal realm, to enact the wish and then take their payment. The summoning spell you performed takes a much stronger mind and body; Not only to bounce back from death, but to carry a new weight with you.”

The demon slowly sets to its knees, laying it’s head down on your blanket. “In that way, I am indebted to you, my mistress, for taking such risks to bring me here.”

You blanch, words escaping you as this massive creature pledges fealty to you. When your vocabulary finally returns to your brain, you shake your hands furiously.

“T-thank you, for your kind words and your help. But you don't need to. I mean, I-I have no want to force you to stay with me. I didn’t even fully understand what I was doing-”

“That is not a requirement, mistress. And you are not forcing me to stay, I want to stay.”

The demon urges, picking its head back up from the quilt. “If it is your wish, however, I can stay in the shadows and not bother you, protect you from afar. I wouldn’t wish to interfere.”

You shake your head once more. “No! No, that won’t be necessary. That sounds even worse, to be honest.” You mutter, picking at the quilt squares with your fingers.

The silence lingers. The Demon, still looking at you in admiration. It’s irises glow even in the soft-morning light, their pupils a deep void amidst the unnatural yellow.

“Well, I am going to eat. Feel free to….look around.” You say, gesturing to your tiny bedroom. The demon nods, slowly retreating from your bedside to the corner, eyes darting around the wallpaper until eventually settling on your dresser and small vanity.

You eat, taking hesitant bites as you watch them wander towards your things, taking the time to observe your minimal decorations. You had a tiny book collection, some knick knacks you had gotten from town or your parent’s travels, and a myriad of plants on your window sill.

The demon hadn’t shown any ill intent, not in their actions nor in their tone, but you still weren’t sure. You had heard stories of tricksters, who lure you in with false promises and sweet lies.

If four young men could do it so easily, imagine what a demon could accomplish.

You shake their faces out of your heads, brushing off the imaginary fingertips clutched around your arms. It’s over; You are safe, in your bed. God knows what happened to them. You fight away that thought as well.

As you slowly finish your breakfast, the Demon is looking at the cover of one of your books. Technically it’s an encyclopedia, filled with all the different types of marine flora and fauna. Your mother had gotten it for your birthday three years ago.

“Umm...demon?”

They pause, setting down the book and looking at you.

“Yes, mistress?”

“I was just wondering, since you’re going to be here for the foreseeable future, what should I call you?” They’re brow furrows, head tilting like that of a befuddled pet.

“I had not really considered that, mistress. Is it important?”

You scratch the back of your neck, avoiding their piercing gaze. “Not particularly, I guess. It just feels a bit rude to acknowledge you only as ‘The Demon’.”

The Demon’s face scrunches up, still confused. “In the Nine Hells, I was referred to by my title, I do not see anything wrong with that. It is a correct statement to call me a demon.”

“Well, maybe. I guess up here, your own name is personal. Something that defines you, a part of yourself. Kind of like the way you look, or how you present yourself.” You say, mussing up your bed sheets in an effort to calm your nerves.

The demon pinches their face once more, eyes darting to the book laying upon the desk.

“Is Captain a military rank in this plane as well?” The say, claws tracing the engraved title of the encyclopedia. Sort of confused by the change of subject, you glance towards the book cover. Captain Amelia’s Guide to the Unknown of the Ocean.

“Yes, but it also describes the heads of ships. Those who sail across the seas, discovering new things or dealing in trade. Pretty sure the only requirement is a boat, not a military career.”

The Demon hums, eyes still locked on the cover, decorated by a painting of a large ship, locked in combat with a Kraken.

“Then I think I’d like to be called Captain.”

You nod, fingers still entangled in your bed sheets. Captain looks back to you, sending a calming smile. As calming as a creature with more canines than a wolf can be. Your own smile is shaky, still wary of what is to come.

--------

That was about a week and a half ago now, Captain staying by you as you rested. Your parents only allowed you to help around the house after 3 days of solid bed rest, most of which you spent reading, crocheting, or talking with Captain. When they went off to work, you gave Captain a tour of the house, showing them all the tools of the kitchen and the apothecary.

Their presence had quickly become commonplace, your body no longer jolting when you caught a glimpse of the dark figure in the corner. You two would chit-chat and entertain each other, but knew when to give the other space.

Captain also demonstrated their shape-shifting ability, although it was not as dramatic as you had read about in grimoires. Mostly it was a day-to-day tiny change, one you had learned to acknowledge and inquire how they would like to be referred to as. Captain had been a little bemused by the limitations of your pronouns, but was rather swift in adapting to a strategy which best suited them.

It was nice, if a little bit strange. Although you weren’t sure if the two of you could be considered friends just yet, if not for the short time or them being a Demon bound to you by a blood contract, but you were definitely closer than acquaintances. Comrades, ship mates? You still didn’t know. But as the domestic days dragged on, you find you’re not afraid to find out.

---------

What animal is this, Mistress?

“I believe it’s a seal? Or a sea lion, could never tell the difference, if I’m being honest.” You say, fingers brushing over the wooden charm hanging off the market shelf. It’s small, the details defining but rudimentary.

You have lions which live in the sea? How fiersome.

“Not actual lions, but I’m sure they could put up a good fight. Are there any oceans in the Nine Hells?”

No. Not ones made out of water anyway; Usually its blood or other excrement.

“...Oh.” You mutter, shoving that image out of your mind. Captain didn’t often talk about their home plane, only offering terrifying details that made sense of why they so desperately wanted to escape. As curious as the thought of another dimension was to you, you tried to avoid the topic all together. Captain didn’t seem to mind.

Looking at the small charm, with it’s adorable, puppy like face, you gesture towards the shopkeep.

“How much for this?”

“Only two silver, miss.”

You look down at your spare grocery change, sending a tiny glance to your shadow.

“Would you like this, Captain? We’ve got the coin for it.”

There’s a brief silence, your shadow staying uncannily still.

….For what purpose, Mistress?

You shrug, tapping the dangling charm and watching how it twirls. “No purpose. It’s just rather cute, and well…” You brush a finger over the woodwork, feeling the tiny indentations carved, “If you’re going to be staying with me, you should have some stuff of your own, right? Seems only fair.”

There’s another pause, long enough that you risk another glance at the shade. Even without any definitive form, it looks pensive.

Yes, I would like it, Mistress.

You nod, quickly passing the silver. From the corner of your eye, your shadow seems to perk up. As you pull away from the stall, you slyly drop the charm down and into the darkness, the demon leaping out a hand to catch it. From inside your mind, the warm feeling of contentment and excitement resonates like an undercurrent, bringing a smile to your face. You can picture Captain fiddling with the toy in their massive paws, eyes alight. Butterflies flutter to life in your stomach.

Thank you, Mistress. I would not have thought such a tiny thing would bring me such happiness.

You shake your head.

“It’s no problem. If you see anything you like, let me know.”

You’re jolted out of your mind when by a large splash, a woman squealing as mud clings to her skirt, and a young man scrambles to his feet.

“And stay in the mud, you low-life pig!”

“B-But Jezebel, I-I can explain!”

“Explain what, exactly?” A small crowd is beginning to form around the commotion, but you find yourself frozen to your spot, thoughts thrown all over the place.

Three women, all beautiful, stand in the small entryway of a house. At the bottom, now covered in mud, is Richard.

“That you’re cheating scum? That you don’t deserve our time?” The first woman shouts, gesturing to the two others. She’s making a scene and she knows it, reveling in her screaming and his embarrassment. “And I’m not Jezebel, you idiot! I’m Viola!” She nothing short of screeches, leaning down and hurling a chunk of dirt at Richard. The other women huff in agreement, looking at him with disgust and spitting at his feet.

A low murmur has fallen over the crowd, gossip thriving as the women stamp their heels and Viola huffs back into the house. The door is slammed shut, the focus of everyone’s eyesight on Richard.

He looks haggard, dark circles and greasy hair indicating he hasn’t slept, at least slept well, in the last few days. His clothes, usually refined and tucked in, were loose and nearly tearing. Amidst the chattering group of people, remnants of conversations linger into your ears.

“They made the right decision, shipping him off.”

“Honestly, it was about time. A cocky brat like that needs some discipline beaten into him. I’ve heard Ivy’s Military School is ranked top in the country.”

“God knows he will need it. The boy hasn’t had class since he learned how to speak.”

The belittlement, the desperate look in Richards eye, looking for sympathy, should enthrall you. That knot of satisfaction should burst, reaping the reward of your suffering, revel in his despair.

But everything about this pitiful man terrifies you.

You nearly drop your groceries, pushing away bodies as you flee the scene, barely finding time to breathe. Your shadow has trouble keeping up with you, bending between foot steps and keeping track of your shape as you dart away, away, away.

You find solace in a dark alleyway, but peace still escapes you. Your heart and brain pound with pure adrenaline, finding purchase on a nearby wall as black spots dot your vision.

All you can see are Richard’s dirt filled fingernails, dragging across your throat, pushing you down. His knee digs into your back as you kneel on wet ground, the cold metal of a knife pressed against your neck, dangerously close to your racing pulse point.

Your shadow shifts and grows, Captain’s shape stepping out of your large shadow, taking tentative steps towards your quivering form. Your knees soon give out, sending you to the ground, but they catch you just in time. You barely feel the contrast of soft fur compared to rough concrete, curling up into a fetal position as you try to force the images from your mind.

Captain sinks down, claws petting your back. With a small voice, they instruct you calmly.

“In through the nose, out through the mouth. Just like that, mistress.”

The simple instructions give you something to focus on, something other than your fractured mind. You instinctively curl into their chest, their warm fur brushing against your cheek as you shove your face against them. Your eyes are clenched tight and you cling onto their shoulders, chest wracked with your heaving sighs. But the deep baritone of their whispers and affirmations slowly seep into your haze, pushing out the memories.

You continue to breathe in and out, Captain’s warm hands caressing your waist as they hum lightly. They tuck their chin above yours, their hot breathes blowing across your skull.

“It is alright, ____. You can do this, you are safe. I am here for you.” They mutter.

In minutes that feel like hours, your heart rate slows down, your mind loses it’s buzz. Captain hums an unfamiliar tune as they continue to cradle you, claws drawing shapes into your back while rocking your back and forth.

When you finally feel aware, present in the moment, you wipe away the tear tracks running down your face.

“Captain?” You whisper.

“Yes, Mistress?”

“Can we go home, please?”

They nod, standing with you still in your arms.

“Of course, my dear.”

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

You unload groceries automatically, muscles and spirit tired after your crying fit. Captain helps, making sure to stay in the periphery and out of sight of your parents.

You give an excuse to them, explaining that the heat got to you, and collapse onto your bed. Captain lingers in the corner, poised for a command.

“Captain?” You mutter, fingers twirling a thread tassel on one of your pillows. They look up from their position. “Thank you, for being there for me. Today and…..last time.”

They nod, taking small steps towards your bed. Once close enough, they lightly wrap one of their fingers around yours, petting your knuckles.

“Of course, ____. I will always be there for you.”

You nod, a small smile crawling its way across your lips. You slip your palm into theirs, feeling their calloused finger pads, pulling them slightly closer to your form. Your eyes dart up to theirs. With a small blush, you whisper,

“And I will always be there for you.” Captain’s eyes slightly widen, but a large grin appears, a hint of their fangs glinting from behind their black fur.

“Thank you, ____.”

#monster romance #monster x reader #demon #demon x reader #female reader #reader insert #my writing

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soyeahitsmiddleearth · 4 years ago

Text

Killer Good Looks pt. 2

The Company/Reader

Goblin tunnels, scapegoats, and life-threatening adventures... Oh, and you're still supposed to kill these guys, hm.

Angst, Humor, Action

----

The fall from your little cozy cave down into the deep dark depths of the Goblin Tunnels was not a pleasant one, and you're almost certain that a concussion is in the makings with how many times you and your companions have smashed your heads against walls, each other, and rocks alike.

You got lucky for the most part, and they've got pretty thick skulls so they'll be fine too.

Once the twisting tunnels and dead-drops are done, you all lay at the bottom of some sort of cage, groaning and recovering from the shock of it all (you're fairly certain there's a period there where you're all unconscious).

Damn it, you should've known better.

You've known for ages about the goblins that reside in the Misty Mountains, but you, for some reason, thought you'd be safe enough with the horrible weather to make it in and out of the mountain range before they even knew you were there.

The goblin king won't see you, will he? He won't recognize you, right?

Yeah, so, there was a time there where you worked freelance, having no assignments from The Brotherhood or anything to do, and you caught wind that the goblins of the Misty Mountains came across something desirable.

Something... shiny... and... possibly magical.

Your kleptomania went positively wild at the mere thought of finding something so pretty and sparkly in such a dreary and dismal place, so you set out for the Mountains, staked out around the entrances for a few days, and then snuck in and stole that 'thing'.

The 'thing' ended up being a radiant, beautiful ring stolen from some poor traveler more than likely. Whether they wiped out the kingdom or stole it in silence is unknown to you, but you didn't really care.

You snuck in at night while countless goblins went out to hunt and enjoy the evening, and then you swiped the ring from the goblin kings finger while he slept when day came about, hid in the tunnels until night once more while he flipped out in search of it, and made your escape the following night.

Only after you stole it did you find out that it was magical.

It morphed to fit your finger as soon as you fit it on, and granted you some enhanced senses.

The enhancements weren't vast or grand, but it was a very slight adjustment that helped to polish your already honed skills.

You could hear a little better, see a bit further, and increased your 6th sense for detecting others.

They probably went through numerous hardships to acquire such a useful item, and, now, it was all yours for free.

That day you spent hiding away in the tunnels, waiting for night so you could escape after stealing it in the day, was boring, but also a little frightening. The way the goblin king screamed and screeched about a thief and needing to find his prize made you briefly fear for your safety, but it didn't take long for you to realize they're too dumb to spot you.

You may not be the strongest in terms of physical strength and brute force, but your willpower and cunning got you through it almost effortlessly. And, if you did get into a physical altercation, your agility and reflexes would help you go down while taking them out with you.

Anyways, your point it that, he may not recognize your face since he never saw you, but if he sees the ring then it's over for you.

So, once you regain your rational thought after your daze, you slip it off your finger and shove it into one of the hidden pockets in your shirt. Who knows if he'll recognize the ring or not.

In no time you are being hauled up to your feet and dragged away with the rest of your companions, though you are a fair bit taller than all of them so it's harder for these nasty bastards to keep you under control.

No matter how vast or grand your skills are, you'd never be able to take on all of these guys; you're a stealth master for a reason after all.

The lot of you are taken down a series of paths to an audience with the horrendous Goblin King, and along the way you manage to kick quite a few of those grabby little monsters down into the dark depths below.

A minute or so passes that ends with all of you, ultimately, in front of the Goblin Kind and helpless.

"Who would be so bold as to come armed into my kingdom?" His voice booms in front of all of you, echoing throughout the caves, "Spies? Thieves? Assassins?”

Something like that.

You are, technically, all three, but none of you are there for him.

One of the small, ugly creatures steps forward and informs him of who you all are, "Dwarfs and a human, your Malevolence."

His face morphs into one of disgust and he practically spits out, "Dwarfs?"

"We found them on the front porch." The lacky confirms.

“Well, don’t just stand there; search them! Every crack, every crevice.” He cries, slamming his fist down which makes the wood tremble beneath all of you.

A bunch of words are traded and the Great Goblin exposes his knowledge about Thorin and the fact that his greatest enemy, Azog the Defiler, is still alive and kicking.

“Send word to the Pale Orc; tell him I have found his prize.” A twisted smile takes over his huge face and causes that skin beard to shift, a disgustingly entrancing movement, and he looks down at the searching goblins expectantly.

You've had a 3 of your knives tossed aside and your short sword has been stolen, but you're happy to report that some of your hidden weapons and the stolen goods are still hidden.

Suddenly, one of the goblins loses it's head and throws something in front of the group, screeching and screaming with horror.

The Great Goblin recoils and he hisses out fearfully, "I know that sword! It is the Goblin-Cleaver, the Biter, the blade that sliced a thousand necks."

Whips and nails, teeth and palms, the dwarfs are abused with every limb, weapon, and thing possible, and before you can even think on it, your voice demands the attention of them all.

"Wait!"

Silence, stillness, attention.

God, you hate it.

You slip the ring from your pocket and onto your finger and take a step forward unobstructed from the enraged goblins, slightly nervous but blank in expression.

"I cannot hide it anymore. Every second that passes weighs on my soul, for the desire to be recognized for my deeds is too strong."

"Speak your piece, human, what do you want?"

You raise your ringed hand and brandish the smooth metal off to him, "Do you recognize this? The ring I so cleverly stole from you all those months ago?"

"M-My ring!" He bellows, taking a step forward, "How- You thief! You were the one who stole from me? You?!"

You say nothing at first and betray no emotion in your face, lowering your hand back to your side. When you do speak, you push arrogance into your voice, "I took it while you indulged yourself in sleep, and then I hid right under your nose for an entire day, holding my prize and listening to your whining and petulant screams." The insults are all well aimed and meant to enrage him, for you're hoping to take his attention off of the dwarfs before he can have them all killed. "If I had known you were so pathetic and slow-witted, I would have taken it during the night and saved myself the time."

Someone calls your name, Thorin, and he hisses with confusion, "What are you doing?"

You ignore him.

If he weren't so pale and colorless he would've been red with anger at your taunting words. The Great Goblin is seething and spitting, his huge, clawed hands clenched into fists as he tries to form a coherent thought.

"You dare speak down to me? You will be punished!" He cries, pointing a long nailed finger at you, "Cut the ring from those thieving hands, and then take those hands as well!"

Your expression shifts when you're shoved forward and onto the ground on your hands and knees, taking on a more defiant look despite the hint of fear in your eyes.

It's not like you want them to cut off your hands, you kind of need those, but you're fairly confident that this groups luck will strike once again and save you from a life of picking things up with your feet and wrists (if they don't kill you, that is).

"No!" Someone yells from the group of dwarfs and goblins, followed by shouts and calls from others as well.

Unfortunately, the roaring in your ears is too loud for you to make out individual voices, but it's nice that they aren't apathetic towards your fate.

Before you know it you're being shoved face-first into the ground and your arms are being wrenched out from beneath you, stretched out and poised for being cut off. Your finger with the ring on it is pulled from your fist, and when you glance up, you see a sword poised above the head of a goblin, ready to relieve you of your hand.

There's lots of screaming and yelling, and at some point you squeeze your eyes shut since you're no longer confident in your assessment that you'll be saved in the nick of time.

Finally, right when your fate is about to finally be sealed, a bright light blinds you all and renders the goblins immobilized momentarily.

Gandalf the Gray stands there with his powerful staff in hand and an aura of white surrounding him, meanwhile you all just stare in awe.

“Take up arms. Fight. Fight!” He demands, slamming his staff on the ground which shakes your very souls.

You, and everyone else, require no more prompting.

In one swift movement you roll back onto your feet and steal the discarded sword aimed to take your hands, and then you jump right into the action.

You and the entirety of the group make a swift and action packed escape where you spend the majority of your time protecting the Durin's, sticking close to them and keeping the goblins away.

Everything passes by in a blur of limbs, blood, and violence, and it isn't until you've killed the Great Goblin and escaped back out into the light of the soon setting sun that you have a moment to breathe and think about all the things that just took place.

It's at this time that everyone finishes running and takes a moment to catch their breath that you all realize Bilbo is missing, and you immediately curse yourself for not keeping a closer eye on him.

A couple of the dwarfs begin to blame each other and there's some mumbling amongst themselves, but Thorin has another idea entirely about what really happened.

"I’ll tell you what happened. Master Baggins saw his chance and he took it! He’s thought of nothing but his soft bed and his warm hearth since first he stepped out of his door! We will not be seeing our Hobbit again. He is long gone."

You purse your lips but say nothing despite your disagreement with his words; arguing with the people 'paying you' isn't the brightest idea, so it's better to just keep your mouth shut.

And then, quite the peculiar thing, said hobbit steps out from behind a tree and states matter-of-factly, "No, he isn't."

There is varying amounts of surprise and shock that wash throughout all of your expressions. Hell, your eyes even widen slightly when he appears so suddenly. How did you not notice him even with your ring on?

"Bilbo Baggins! I’ve never been so glad to see anyone in my life!” The gray wizard exclaims with a grand smile on his wrinkling face.

Kili speaks next, informing the little hobbit that there was little hope surrounding him. "Bilbo, we'd given you up!"

"How on earth did you get past the goblins?!" Fili wonders.

"How indeed..." Dwalin sounds suspicious almost when he repeats Fili's question, but you're entirely worried about something else.

"Are you alright, Bilbo?" You chime in before he can explain himself, stepping closer to give him a quick once over.

You were hired to protect the Durin's, but you need all of them to get access to that mountain with ease.

Or, at least, that's what you tell yourself.

The hobbit looks up at you and offers a slightly nervous smile, "I am fine. Just a few bumps and bruises."

"I want to know...," Thorin's voice breaks through your conversation as he asks, "Why did you come back?"

A quick moment of silence passes as you look down at your feet and listen carefully, actually a bit curious yourself.

It isn't like you couldn't do his part of the job for him, though your assignment is something else entirely, and he expressed his desire to leave right before you were all kidnapped by the goblins... so why would he come back?

"Look, I know you doubt me, I know you always have," Bilbo begins with a slightly grim face, "And you’re right, I often think of Bag End. I miss my books. And my armchair. And my garden..." He trails off as a faraway look momentarily blurs his vision, probably imagining what he could be doing at home right now, and you all watch and listen carefully. "See, that’s where I belong. That’s home. And that’s why I came back, cause you don’t have one - a home. It was taken from you. But I will help you take it back if I can.”

Your eyebrows furrow together when he finishes speaking his piece, because his words are... greatly troubling.

He was ready to leave it all behind before, mere seconds away from leaving back towards The Shire and Bag End, but here he is now. He came back because he genuinely wants to help; he wants them to reclaim their home and find their wandering origins.

Everyone is silent as they think over the words Bilbo speaks, and while it awes most of them, you only feel more bothered.

Such a kind hobbit who you may likely need to kill.

"That's foolish." You find yourself saying that before you can even think about it, something that's been happening too often for your liking.

You get several shocked looks, hell, you're shocked yourself, but you don't take back your statement.

Where did this disdain come from all of a sudden? This disdain not towards the kind hearted hobbit, but towards yourself?

"You are not the person to be calling the actions of our Master Burglar, foolish." Gandalf scolds, eyeing you with a pointed look. "I know your taunting and teasing towards the Goblin King was no accident or arrogance driven necessity. And I also know that you could have easily broken yourself free before harm befell upon you. I brought you along to do a job, and do this job you have - much too well. I thank you for the distraction, but your methods may have proved to be a mistake had I not arrived on time."

You look back at the gray wizard with an unwavering stare, eyes slightly narrowed as you attempt to glare him into submission; only, he doesn't relent and stares right back at you.

"You came in time." A weak defense.

"And if I hadn't?" He asks, voice raising slightly. Gandalf doesn't much like backtalk. "How far would you have taken it? Were you going to allow them to take your hands? To cut that trinket from your finger?"

This time you hesitate in replying, something akin to a pout tugging at your lips. "Of course not. I had faith that you would come, and you did...," you trail off, then add begrudgingly, "And if you hadn't, then I could have escaped quite easily."

Another silence filled by the two big egos facing off against each other.

Gandalf's ego wins, unfortunately.

You relent and look away, catching the troubled gazes of Fili and Kili.

Did your actions really bother them that much?

"Well what do you suppose I should do? Let them harm you all?" You wouldn't let that happen.

That thought that lingers behind your words makes your eyebrows knit together in confusion once again, and your gaze wanders away once more.

Now that you think about it, why did you do it? I mean, why did you really do it?

You knew they weren't actually going to die just like that, he's too scared of the pale orc to do that, but you did it anyways. The possibility of harm befalling upon these dwarfs actually... affected you.

Gandalf pauses and observes you carefully, then realization sparkles in those infuriatingly wise eyes of his.

"Well, no matter. I did not mean to scold you, for you are a very capable person, so I thank you for doing your job well and diligently." He lets those words hang in the air for a time, then he moves on, "Now, we must discuss where we are and where we must go."

"I say-" Thorin begins, only to be cut off by howls and the sound of a gravely voice speaking in another language. "Out of the frying pan..." He sighs with a weary face.

"And into the fire! Run! Run!!" The gray wizard snaps.

You all begin your hasty retreat down the mountain, and at some point the sun begins to set.

The sky turns all sorts of vibrant shades of orange, blue, and red, and the light delicately kisses the peaks of each tree, mountain top, and surface. The air smells fresh, as it usually does following a hard rain, and the grass and leaves glisten healthy because of the drink offered to them by the sky. It's a magnificent sight to behold, but none of you are able to appreciate it, for the beauty of nature is being darkened and tainted by the evil intent and fear.

Those nasty wargs chase you all down like prey, maybe that's exactly what you are, meanwhile your feet take you as far away and as quickly as they can.

You jog behind the two youngest Durin's, being as Thorin takes the lead as per usual, and keep a slow enough pace to avoid taking over them (they're not the fastest group of dwarfs, after all). You can't have them becoming warg food when you still need them to get you into that mountain...

"Pick up your feet more when you run!" You command, glancing behind you briefly to gauge just how close those bastards are.

They heed your advice and end up running just a bit faster, something that relieves you somewhat.

The land begins to thin out and the ground you run on narrows, thus forcing all of you onto a cliff filled with trees and a precipice topped with a leaning tree.

“Up into the trees, all of you! Come on, climb! Bilbo, climb!” Gandalf demands, jumping up to grab one of the low hanging branches and pulling himself up.

You stay planted firmly in place and wait for everyone to find a spot in a tree and climb to safety, and while everyone else, even Bombur, finds somewhere to avoid the bloodthirsty wargs, Bilbo is still running for the tree line.

A frustrated curse passes through your gritted teeth, but you waste no time in rushing forward and yanking Bilbo away from the jaws of an awaiting warg. You foot shoots up and crashes into the side of its face, successfully knocking it off course since you nailed it in the eye which gives you two enough time to sort things out.

"Quickly!" You hiss, leaning crouching down with your hands clasped in front of you, "I can boost you up, but you mustn't waste anymore time!"

The little hobbit nods his head and steps his big right foot into your awaiting hands, and, once he's secured, you launch him up and into the awaiting low hanging branches.

"Y/N!" Fili screams from above you, panic lining his voice.

Your gaze snaps forward just in time to see sharp teeth and brown fur, but right before those razor teeth can sink into the soft flesh of your neck, a rock comes sailing through the sky and nails the nasty beast right in the nose.

It whimpers and jerks its head off to the side, but you don't waste anymore time in watching it freak out and instead roll around to the other side of the tree and jump up to grab a branch and pull yourself further up so they can't get your feet.

You reach up to grasp another branch, but someone catches your hand instead and easily hauls you into another layer of the tree.

"I've got you." It's Dwalin, and he doesn't let go of your hand right away until you're secure.

"Thank you." You dip your head after voicing your thanks then do a quick once-over to make sure everyone is safe in the trees, only, you don't get the chance to finish that before those wild dogs begin to rip at the roots holding the strong pines into place.

One by one do each of the trees begin to lean and fall, creating a domino affect that forces all of you to hang vicariously over the edge of the cliffside.

A quick glance down shows you the imminent death that awaits you below, and, for the first time since this chase began, you fear for your and everyone else's lives.

"Catch!" Kili yells to you, tossing a flaming pinecone your way.

Where did they get flaming pinecones?

Gandalf of course, you should've known even before you looked up.

You turn your attention ahead once more and pull your arm back, poised to throw the pinecone with all your might, only to stop mid-swing when something, or rather, someone, gets in your way.

Thorin Oakenshield stands on the trunk of the sinking tree with his weight distributed to maintain balance, and just ahead is Azog the Defiler, staring him down with an arrogant, sick smile.

Oh Jesus... this dwarf sure doesn't make your job easy.

You throw the pinecone since the flames began to lick at your gloved fingers and move to stand up, but the branch you sit upon cracks and creaks, groaning under the sudden movement.

Shit.

If he dies the dwarfs may give up on the entire journey altogether and decide to leave the mountain alone, and then where will that leave you?

You don't even want to think about it.

Another attempt is made to pull yourself up onto the thick trunk, but this time the entire branch cracks and breaks, falling out from beneath you as it hangs by the sparsely attached strings of ripped apart wood.

You just barely manage to throw yourself into the trunk and hang off the side, feet dangling in open air with nothing to leverage yourself with.

Panic blooms in your chest as you completely loose control over the situation, unable to even swing your legs up because of the way your arms can't completely wrap around the trunk.

"No!" Dwalin screams just above you, catching your attention briefly despite your panic.

You look over to the side and see that Thorin has lost his fight against the pale orc. He lays on the ground, unmoving and defeated as another one of Azog's companions raise its' weapon above its' head to kill the dwarf king.

"Damn it!" You hiss helplessly, pawing uselessly around the rough bark in search of any sort of leg up. "Thorin!"

This is it. They're going to kill him and all of you are going to fall to your deaths, soaring through the sky for a brief time before you become nothing more than bloody splatters on the ground below.

The sound of metal hitting metal and the clashing of weapons draws your ear as you begin to slip further down the circumference of the trunk, but you can't even turn to look because there's nothing left for you to do.

The rest of your body drags your arms from around the tree and, in a last ditch effort to avoid the drop, you grasp the broken, hanging branch.

It snaps of as soon as your weight yanks it down, and then... you're free falling.

Someone screams your name (is that Bofur?) but you don't do anything.

You don't writhe or scream; you don't flail your arms or cry; you just stare up at the horror stricken faces and your partners in falling (Dori and Ori) as numbness overtakes your whole body.

Yes, your stomach drops as the feeling of falling sickens you, but in your heart, in your soul, you feel nothing.

It's not like you've led a particularly good life or anything, but still, you don't want to die. Even if there is nothing for you, no one that cares, you still don't want to go; because once you're dead, the only thing anyone will remember you as is a ruthless monster, a puppet of The Brotherhood.

You don't want to die.

Maybe you should've rejected the job in the first place; maybe you should've made better designs in general; maybe you should've allowed yourself to let those foolish dwarfs and sweet hobbit close if to just feel a moment of belonging.

Little do you know, all of these thoughts will prove to complicate your mission further, because this is, in fact, not the end.

One moment you're falling to your death while having an existential crisis, and the next you're being snatched out of the sky by one of the Great Eagles.

#the company x reader #the hobbit fanfiction #the hobbit #reader insert #thorin oakenshield #fili #kili #killer good looks pt. 2 #assassin reader #angst #bilbo baggins #kili x reader #fili x reader #thorin x reader #bilbo x reader #bofur x reader #dwalin x reader

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st-just · 3 years ago

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A Setting: The City of Sethennai

Because I’ve spent long enough tinkering on this that I might as well share it with a population of more than a half-dozen potential players. Also it could almost certainly use an editing pass, and I don’t want to lose it all next time my computer dies.

So, a collection of densely packed plot hooks in the shape of a city

City History

The City of Sethennai is quite possibly the oldest city in the world, or at least the oldest still inhabited. When the first Dwarfs and Goliaths fled the Titans for the coast, they found ziggurats already rising from the water and tunnels dug beneath their feet, ruined by some already ancient cataclysm. Supported by fertile soil and full waters, they built their own city over it, and welcomed their own gods to it, a center of resistance to the Titanomarchy that became an empire in its own right.

Centuries passed and power drifted inland, to the mountain palaces of the Titans’ Giant heirs and the divinely appointed heroes who sometimes overthrew them. The City was rich, but peaceful, its soldiers only raised when one princess or another took it as a capital during a civil war. Such was the case when the first ships appeared from the East.

The adventurers from the League of Free Cities had been spurred across the sea by visions of fortune and glory, overwhelming the defenders with armies of goblin slaves and the ability to evoke demons far beyond what they could deal with. Their leader Sethennai proclaimed himself Emperor and renamed the city in his honour, taking it as his capital. After his assassination some years later the ‘empire’ fell into an anarchy it has never quite recovered from, but the name has stuck, and for the two hundred years since wonders and riches have flowed across the eastern ocean while mercenaries and adventurers have poured west in ever greater numbers.

The city’s ruler for the last fifteen years has been Prince Cael, an adventurer universally believed to be supported by the League’s political rivals back East. If so, they got what they paid for – experts and financiers have been imported and sponsored, and trade opened to anyone capable of paying the reasonable import duties.

Until two years ago, he had been the picture of brutal decadence, rousing himself from luxurious hedonism only to brutally deal with any threats to his power. Recently though, he changed – sponsoring vast expeditions into the ancient palaces of the interior and the ruins buried on the city’s outskirts, and installing a self-proclaimed Hierophant whose heresies had earned her a death warrant back East in the city’s grandest temples (violently banishing the cults which had held them since the Conquest in the process).

One week ago, at exactly noon, the sun vanished from the sky for one minute, and the entire city was filled with a deafening scream. Since then, the Prince’s grand palace has been sealed tight, with ingeniously horrifying magical defences ensuring that anyone who tries to force a door or window isn’t around to try again. Everything’s very rapidly falling apart, and the city’s traditional power brokers are reacting like so many rabid weasels in too small a cage.

It is, then, a perfect opportunity for people with the will to seize it.

Districts

The Palantine

If Sethennai is the oldest continually inhabited city in the world, the vast palace complex which crowns its central hill is probably likewise the oldest building still in use. Its foundation is burrowed deep into the hill on which it stands, to the point that some delvers and historians have theorized that it was once a truly massive pyramid now mostly buried by the ages. Rising out of it are two great peaks - impressive ziggurats in their own right - of obvious dwarven make, fashioned to house their ancient Ancestors-Kings and gods in suitable splendor, and since renovated and built over to house the city’s rulers and most favored priesthoods. Surrounding them are a dozen smaller peaks, each the estate of one of the city’s foremost patrician families, teeming with retainers and servants. The land around them is pristine and perfectly manicured, full of wondrous botanical gardens and menageries for the amusement of Sethennai’s greatest citizens.

Location of Interest: The Throne

A palace built on the ruins of a palace built on the ruins of a palace. The grand ziggurat which the city’s rulers have called home since time immemorial is built into and sits at the peak of its highest hill, the highest point in the sky for dozens of miles in every direction. Its labyrinthine apartments, kitchens, vaults, galleries and corridors house the Prince and his family, dozens of favorites and notables, and hundreds of guards, servants, retainers and entertainers.

Or, well, housed.

One week ago, the sun vanished from the sky, and a scream echoed through the city. Since then, the palace complex has proven impenetrable. Every door and window is closed, and attempts to open them by force have fared...poorly. In a ‘never going to walk again’ sort of way. Scrying and other means of magical surveillance so far attempted have simply failed. No one has tried to escape, and no noises have been heard - the whole complex is simply silent.

Of course, that means that all its secrets and riches are there for the taking. Or that’s the growing consensus - at least three separate groups have camped out near various gates and major entrances, each preparing their own scheme to break in and seize everything within. There’s no fighting between them. Yet.

Faction of Note: The Hierophant

Yri Cenred is many things. A self-proclaimed ‘experimental theologian’. One of shockingly few mortal humans to piss off the Illyrin clergy enough to be specifically declared Anathema. A member of the Commonwealth’s very exclusive list of ‘Enemies of Reason’. Empirically immune to thunderbolts from cloudless skies and most other signs of divine disfavor. Easily one of the most powerful mages in the city. And, for most of the last two years, its High Priestess and Hierophant.

No one knows quite how her first meeting with Prince Cael went, and whether she was responsible for her change in personality or if he sought her out because of it. All anyone knows is that shortly after she arrived in the city a few days ahead of Imperial Witch-Hunters looking for her head on a pike, Cael forcibly expelled the Khasali cults which had occupied the Palantine’s grand temples since the Conquest, and installed her in their place with the newly minted title of Hierophant for the city. Since then she and her growing coterie of acolytes (bright-eyed, motivated and young, though you can flip a coin as to whether their hands are stained with ink or blood) have been extremely busy, though no one can say exactly what with. Certainly they haven’t held any public rituals or services. Despite the costs - both political and monetary - in protecting and sponsoring her, Cael never seemed to question whether it was worthwhile.

The general opinion on the streets is that she’s probably to blame for anything and everything worth complaining about. The only real divide is between those who think she bewitched the Prince and turned him into her puppet, those who think she’s the one who killed him, and the moderates who think the correct answer is probably ‘both’.

Foundrytown

The New World is absolutely full of exotic reagents, fuel sources, and materials to craft and invent with. It is also absolutely full of people who will pay in your currency of choice for finished goods, armor, weaponry, and whatever nasty alchemical tricks you can keep from blowing up in their face until they want them to. Foundrytown is the sprawling mass of smokestacks, workshops, factories and markets that has spilled to the north of Sethennai’s walls, exploiting both opportunities to the fullest while limiting the chance that some idiot will burn half the city down (again). Robber barons, militant workers, loose fraternities of tinkerers and half-trainer artificers, and the occasional rogue clockwork or alchemical monstrosity all jostle for space and control of the beating heart of Sethennai’s economy.

Faction of Note: The Grand Bazaar

Official Imperial theology accords true dragons a place of honour - the Princes of the Earth, entrusted by Heaven with containing the fury of the elements within themselves so as to render the world peaceful enough for cultivation by the younger races - and forbids very few things to wyrms willing to play the part. (Principally, do not become undead, a god in your own right, or an archdemon of the elements. Though some justification can usually be found for how any sufficiently problematic dragon is actually doing one of those).

And Tyramara the Magnificent, the Fire of the Deeps has not technically done any of those things. Still, the ancient wyrm has little interest in allowing the wasting disease which has crippled her continue to spread, and her solution is unorthodox enough that she thought it prudent to abandon her palace-lair in Imir and relocate to the New World, six treasure galleons worth of her hoard in tow.

One of the city’s wealthiest residents from the moment she landed, she has bought a plaza in Foundrytown and offered her sponsorship to nearly every tinker and engineer who cares to set up shop there, provided they help sustain and improve the mechanical and hydraulic prosthetics that supplement and replace her dying organs. She has promised a full half of her hoard to any who can permanently deal with her condition, a fortune men have killed for in the past, and certainly will again.

Faction of Note: The Hellworks

They’re not officially called the Hellworks - there are, in fact, absolutely no devils involved. Still, between the billowing clouds of soot and steam pouring from their chimneys at all hours of the day, the severe architecture, and the bound spirits who keep the looms running at all hours of the day and eagerly take any opportunity to leave anyone who gets too close crippled or maimed to vent their anger - well, the name stuck.

One of the most obvious consequences of Prince Cael’s turn towards the esoteric these last years, the ' ‘Royal Sethennai Weaver’s Trust” is the brainchild and absolute domain of the Lady Binder Katerine sol Dalme sol Telrin ir’Paimon. An Illyrin magister with heterodox opinions on the proper uses of magic, popular opinion is divided on whether it’s more accurate to say Cael invited her to reside in the city, or just offered her asylum before her elders had a chance to properly condemn her.

Regardless, after six months of operation she - and her half-dozen strictly bound and extremely unhappy ifrit, and several hundred eminently replaceable more mundane workers - are already well on their way to supplying all the clothing and textiles Sethennai’s teeming masses require single-handedly, produced at a scale and speed far beyond what any traditional artisans guild could hope to compete with.

Crossroads

Dominating the Old City - synonymous with it, really - that the district is called the ‘Crossroads’ is often considered something of a cruel joke by new arrivals. The ‘Labyrinth’ is usually offered instead. Ancient stone tenements and storehouses are basic facts of geography, surviving through conquest and fire, and over and around and through them are generations of newer building - mansions of imported oak and marble, shantytowns of cannibalized carts and derelict ships built on rooftops, and nondescript inns and stores conveniently built on top of trap doors and tunnels leading to much more exciting locales. Natives of a neighborhood who know all the secret passages and blind alleys can quickly get to anywhere they like. New arrivals are strongly advised to pay well for a reliable guide.

Faction of Note: The Dreamers

There’s something under the harbor. There always has been. There probably always will be. Most people can go their whole lives without noticing it, but a certain few find living in the Old City a haunting experience, their nights spent dreaming of drowned palaces and impossible angles, their days spent lost in alleys and markets that have never existed. Inevitably, they come out of a daze and find themselves perched on the waters edge, staring into the filthy, polluted depths with an intense sense of longing.

Called the Dreamers, they’re an eclectic and informal fraternity, living in makeshift houseboats or the cheapest tenements that press against the water. Quite a few simply sleep on the streets. They’re something like a religion, and something like a guild - the most personable and talkative are merchants, selling the fish that others catch, the strange relics and minor treasures that their divers retrieve from the harbor, and the often beautiful - if always uncanny - art they produce. They take care of each other and, though no one has ever seen a dreamer raise a hand in anger, every attempt by syndicates or rival cults to extort or expel them has ended with their opponents going mad, screaming and clawing at their flesh in the middle of the night, or found poised in some elaborate and improbable suicide. After the third time, everyone more or less got the idea.

No one knows who leads them - if anyone does. Insofar as they have a public face, Zoe Alvane is it - a street urchin who ‘found the sea’ before she had hit puberty, for the last few years she has been the one who spends seemingly every hour of the day ensuring her ‘aunts’ and ‘uncles’ have food and shelter, and looking after the other beggars and poor in the neighborhood while she can as well. She’s also the one outsiders deal with when they come looking to buy information - it’s a disquieting fact of life in Sethennai that the Dreamers’ know almost everything there is to know about almost everyone. They are generally content to be left alone, and Zoe is very sympathetic and willing to offer personal advice and play the part of fortune teller to anyone desperate and willing to trade or do a favor - but it’s generally agreed that trying to force information from them is a bad idea.

Faction of Note: Ironfang Mercenary Company

When Prince Cael seized the throne, he didn’t do so single handedly. He needed trained, disciplined soldiers to seize the Palantine and coastal forts, ensure no one escaped the palace, and keep order on the streets while the messy business of extinguishing the previous dynasty was carried out. For all this and more, he relied on the professional expertise of the Ironfang Company.

Formed around a core of hardened hobgoblin veterans of various border wars and colonial filibusters in the Free Cities, the Company has for the last fifteen years been the Prince’s favorite tool for securing his interests, keeping order, and bloodily making examples of any threats to his rule. For their trouble, they’ve grown fat and happy - a steady paycheck and yearly bonuses have left every officer with a townhouse, and most common soldiers with coin for families and apartments for them to live in.

Despite the lack of real combat - and the need to take on locals as new recruits, as more and more soldiers retire or die over the years - Captain Azaersi is a leathery old warehouse who has never let her troops grow soft. Even week the grand parade ground in Crossroads echoes with screaming drill sergeants and the crack of muskets, and it’s an open secret that the Prince paid to import stocks of grenades and munitions from Quepta for her arsenal. No one knows quite how she plans to deal with the sudden disappearance of her patron and employer, but for the moment the Ironfang seem content to keep order in the corner of Crossroads around the arsenal and parade ground that they call home.

The Ruins

The ruins are not, legally, part of Sethanni, and absolutely no one with anything resembling sense would ever actually choose to live there. No one actually knows where the eponymous ruins come from - or at least, no one can agree which section is from where. Shantytowns of the most despised and desperate and built on top of their predecessors, which are built on top of battered and broken pre-Conquest ziggurats and homes, which are built on top of - well, some of it is just a natural cave system, and no one is sure about the rest. Or ever found just how deep it goes. Aside from the casualties of the Prince’s attempts to map it, the Ruins are inhabited exclusively by those that would be strung up or burned alive if they tried to live anywhere else, or those sufficiently dedicated to their greed or ambition that they’re absolutely certain they alone can unlock the secrets and find whatever wonders are buried beneath all the traps and monsters. Not great company, either way.

Faction of Note: The Weavers’ Masquerade

Sethennai never really followed its ‘sister cities’ in the League in religion, with a sort of tolerant anarchy of different gods and sects almost always predominating over the gleefully blasphemously sublime demon-cults that the conquerors originally brought with them. But the small cultists that did exist at least enjoyed a luxurious, privileged irrelevance, with sanctums in the city’s grand temple. That finally changed when Cael seized the temples for his new Hierophant - and every relic and sacred text in them, as bloodily as necessary. Which with demon worshippers meant a massacre - letting one escape and beseech their patron for aid in crafting some horrible vengeance being generally agreed to be a terrible idea.

Not that that actually worked, of course. One acolyte managed to escape - no one’s quite sure how, but then, probably best not to ask unless you’ve got a particularly strong stomach. Well, that’s one of her stories, anyway - she goes by Maia Dayal, Beloved of the Architect, Wearer of Ten Thousand Faces, and sometimes she prefers to say she’s a recently arrived priestess from Celmy, or a street urchin who found enlightenment entirely on her own. As might be expected by the self-proclaimed title, she also changes her face (and build, age, species…) about as often as everyone else bathes.

While she has shown no interest in actually taking bloody revenge on the Prince, Dayal has done plenty to earn the price on her head. The Masquerade that has grown around her is a carnival of wonders and horrors, where all manner of temptations are offered to the truly desperate, debauched and vile. Skinweavers and facetakers always need raw material, and secrets and deaths can both be easily bought for the right price - though in keeping with their patron, the Masquerade is hardly a safe or stable place to do business, and offending the wrong cultist can easily lead to a shift from ‘visitor’ to ‘canvas for artistic expression’.

Faction of Note: The Keendream Expedition

Over the last two centuries, the actual facts about the pre-Conquest city has (with few exceptions) been buried under the weight of legends, rumors and (when necessary) several tons of rock. Despite this (or because of it) whenever things get bad (...worse) for the original population of goliaths and dwarves who can trace their lineage back to that time, stories about some hidden savior or buried relic that will free them spread like wildfire. This is just such a time.

Ilidak Keendream Kathu-Viano is an explorer from a family with some grounds for its claim of being pre-conquest nobility. For the last year he has worked on commission for the Prince, leading a large and incredibly well-armed expedition into the ruins across the water from the Old City, digging into them in search of..something. No one who knows the goal has been willing to talk, but certainly it has involved hiring every historian and scholar with anything like knowledge of the city before it was Sethennai (not to mention half the charlatans and rumor mongers who might know something).

Once news of the Prince’s disappearance reached Kathu-Viano, work shifted from its previous sedate pace to something much more determined. Certain paranoid minds have said it’s almost like he was waiting for this. Other, moderately less paranoid ones have pointed out it’s a bit odd that the government-sponsored expedition is so short on patricians and city notables and so high on mercenaries form the interior and goliath clans with far more reason to listen to Kathu-Viano than the Prince, should some conflict break out.

The Stacks

Museums, exhibitions, satellite campuses, mystical archives, storehouses of eldritch knowledge, and one actual wizard tower - if the faint taste of ozone in the air doesn’t warn you what you’re getting in for leaving the city’s eastern gates, then the architecture certainly will. Wedged between variously reputable bookstores and inquisitives, different formalized and longstanding campuses are dedicated to the arts of conjuration, enchantment, sparkcraft, and practical cosmology. Competition for new discoveries and to fully unlock ancient secrets are good natured and nonviolent - at least, that’s all you can get out of anyone left standing once the smoke clears.

Faction of Note: The Bookhounds

The Bookhounds aren’t any sort of formal organization - and at least half of them would roll their eyes at the name - but rather a loose network of gutter mages, disreputable academics, private inquisitives and researchers for hire, and people with a little talent or cash to burn and far too much curiosity for their own good. They act as a sort of volunteer police force in the Stacks, passing each other clues and leads and doing each other favors to track down stolen (or escaped) relics and curses, stop idiots from unleashing anything really dramatic, and generally help people and save the day. Not to mention accumulate really impressive bags of tricks and rare books themselves in the process.

While they don’t have anything like a real leader, the group’s beating heart is Nikos Roth, an Esheri academic who arrived in the city as a fresh-faced student on a three month expedition a decade back and who never intends to leave. Running a small, incredibly ramshackle-looking secondhand book store wedged between two tenements, he nonetheless has one of the more impressive collections of occult lore in the city, and is more than happy to trade for more of it, or connect anyone in need with a specialist who can help them. As more than one would-be thief has discovered, he’s also a fairly talented mage, and for all that being entirely self-taught has left him with some obvious holes in his training, it’s also left him with some tricks that basically no one comes prepared to counter.

Redgate

Once, Redgate Prison stood alone, a fearsome warning of the Prince’s power to anyone looking south from the city center. Eighty-some years of steady urban sprawl later, most of its inmates would probably just need a running start from the prison walls to land back home. Filled mostly with those whose dreams of a new world fell flat, but with too little cash or too many enemies to get home, the slums of Redgate are a natural habitat for street gangs, drug peddlers, flesh traders, and everyone else looking to take advantage of the desperate and vulnerable. The prison itself - and its infamous and heavily armed wardens - has stumbled into being the center of law writ large, dealing out summary justice for criminals that are (correctly) assumed to be beneath the Prince’s notice.

Faction of Note: Regate Prison

Sitting on a steep hill across the water from the Old City, Redgate prison was at one point a fortress, but for generations has been put to use housing the city’s worst, most dangerous, and most profitable criminals. Given the sprawling, crime-ridden slums that now surround it, its wardens also work as a sort of brutal police force, keeping the pretence of order on the street and preserving the Prince’s Peace. Usually.

The problems with discipline start at the top, really. The Prison’s infamously brutal First Warden is also its oldest and most dangerous prisoner. Before the Conquest, Vrocdruk was one of the city’s lesser gods, enthroned in one of the Palantine’s grand temples. When Sethennai - the man - defeated him, he chose to pull his demons away before they could tear the god into so much bloody aether. Instead he was crippled, lessened, and bound to a new home in the fortress and a new purpose; defending the city and its rulers. Later, less skillful, princes altered the binding, making him responsible for most crime and punishment and hoping that his sacred nature would make the native dwarves and goliaths more obedient.

Vrocdruk is still crippled, still bound to the prison, still forced to obey the orders of the city’s acclaimed ruler, and still extremely unhappy about it. He takes any excuse to work out his unhappiness on criminals or troublemakers with the incredible bad luck to catch his direct attention. His wardens largely follow his example, often acting less like agents of justice and more like a particularly well armed gang - to the point of semi-officially collecting fees for ‘security’ from nearby businesses, supplementing the cash extorted from prisoners and their families for both necessities and luxuries while incarcerated.

Sootcliff

Trailing south of Foundrytown, on and under the steep slope beneath the city’s western walls, the densely packed tenements of Sootcliff are certainly stained grey enough to earn the name. Existing primarily as a source of blood and sweat to feed into the ever-hungry foundries and assembly lines to the north, The buildings are cheap, massive, and constructed at the lowest possible cost, with all the consequences you would expect from that. With easy access to weapons and alchemical supplies from Foundrytown and (literally) beneath the notice of the Old City, Sootcliff is famous as the home of militant bands, revolutionary conspiracies, disgraced artificers, and generally anyone who has a dream for a new world and a plan that will require a lot of explosions to get there.

Faction of Note: The Painted Doctors

Less a single organization and more an extraordinarily loose confederation of - often feuding - crimelords, the Painted Doctors are a fraternity of (largely half- or self-) taught alchemists who have over the last year grown to be the dominant criminal guild in Sootcliff. The name sometimes refers to the incredibly distinctive tattoos each ‘Doctor’ has covering much of their body, universally agreed to be somehow enchanted or cursed. Otherwise it refers to the incredibly alien and vibrant skin tones that their test subjects and muscle develop after repeatedly ingesting their ‘miraculous’ potions and tonics.

While possessing remarkably little actual magical talent among them, the Doctors have perfected the recipes for several extremely useful potions - several incredibly addictive drugs, a half dozen forms of acids and grenades, and a dizzying variety of enhancing tonics to improve themselves and distribute to their thugs - and have managed to keep both the recipes and their sources for the necessary reagents entirely secret. This has left them in the enviable position of being able to promise anyone signing on with them that they’ll be able to more or less become a regenerating ogre for an hour whenever they need to fight, while their opposition has had to settle with advising their men to stock up on fire and acid.

The leading light of the Doctors is one ‘Dr’ Fadre - almost certainly not his real name - an alchemical savant whose ‘miracle cures’ are bought and resold across the city. A flashy and well dressed sort whose patronage has turned several of Sootcliff’s most prominent dens of vice into something close to palaces for those who can afford it, he’s said to be far less interested in the nuts and bolts of running a criminal empire than enjoying its fruits and indulging his passion for the Sciences. It doesn’t hurt his reputation that he doesn’t look a day over thirty, and has for as long as anyone has known him.

Chance

Facing Oldport from across the river’s mouth, the docks of Chance are significantly new, cheaper, and altogether more ramshackle. Not really a part of any conscious design, Chance grew organically as the city sprawled beyond its original walls, essentially smuggling docks so successful it was easier to legitimize and start taxing them than it was to hang everyone involved. They now provide the city with a constant infusion of nerdowells and fortune seekers, and the district around them takes great pride in fleecing new arrivals of every penny to their name by the end of their first night on land. Hostels and boarding houses are usually safe, traditional vice dealers less so, and anyone selling treasure maps or magical amulets not at all. Still, they’re probably more harmless than the various mercenary recruiters and ‘exiled princes’ promising to give new arrivals exactly the thrill and fortune they came searching for.

Faction of Note: The Red Ocean Trading Company

What is now the Red Ocean Trading Company has gone through several dramatic changes over it’s eighty years of existence. First a privateer fleet hired by the Free City of Celmy during the First Armada War. Then eventually growing strong enough to seize several islands as an independent pirate state, before being crushed by the Esheri Navy during the Second Armada War. It’s remnants learned a bit of humility from that, and it is now seemingly content with its existence as either (depending on who you ask) a obscenely profitable shipping firm, or one of the most widespread criminal syndicates in the world.

The Company’s significant interests in Sethennai - nearly half the docks in Chance, guides and guards for anyone heading into the Interior, and fingers in quite a few less legitimate pies as well - are ably represented by Captain Arun Prem, a(n in)famous adventurer and scoundrel in his own right, apparently enjoying his semi-retirement behind a desk by getting outrageously drunk with his favorite mercenaries and criminals every night and swapping incredible (and implausible) old war stories.

There’s plenty of rumors, of course - that he’s here in de facto exile after angering the Company’s mysterious senior leadership. That he’s a thousand-year-old vampire and is the Company’s mysterious senior leadership. That he ate a kraken’s heart, and is immortal as long as he doesn’t lose sight of the water. That he’s biding his time to prepare an army before heading inland to carve a new kingdom for himself. That he’s only in the city for as long as it takes to carry out some truly spectacular heist. That he killed Prince Cael in a secret duel and trapped his soul in the pocketwatch he wears at all times. And so on. Of course, other rumours say that he started all of those himself to preserve his mystique as he grows fat in his old age.

Oldport

Facing out to the harbour but safely ensconced within the city walls, Oldpot is, as the name implies, one of the oldest ports in the new world - and certainly one of the busiest. Fully loaded merchant ships arrive daily, their cargoes emptied and replaced with the plunder of the New World almost overnight so they can return home on the next turn of the wind. Beyond the grand ports themselves, this district is home to all the most respectable shipping companies, merchant banks, hotels, and townhouses and apartments, as well as all the official consulates and embassies that Sethennai plays host to.

Faction of Note: First Bank of Sethennai

Despite only being as old as Prince Cael’s reign, the Bank already feels like an eternal and irreplaceable part of Sethennai. This isn’t something people are necessarily happy about, but its leadership had done a truly amazing job at keeping dissent to grumbling and resentment of the inevitable, and not actual resistance. They’re good at that sort of thing, even when they used Prince Cael’s (and, thus, the City’s) massive debts to his foreign benefactors as justification for taking control of the city’s tariffs and tolls, and began rigorously enforcing them, possibly for the first time ever.

Combined with a legal monopoly on the ability to mint coins, this has of course made the Bank incredibly wealthy. But not to the degree that might be assumed - the riches collected are to a large degree shipped back east to foreign creditors. Of the remaining, quite a bit is invested with as much an eye for politics as strict profit.

Executive Director Salman Ticaret, like most of his staff, is a Sethennai native who sought education in the Commonwealth (like most, he took a new name on gaining citizenship). Along with modern accounting and investing techniques, he came home with a firm grasp of political economy - and so for the last decade and a half has been more than happy to offer favorable rates to well positioned patrician and merchant houses, in exchange for their own favors and consideration in turn. The result is that the bank’s marble halls and adamant vaults house information as much as money. And Ticaret is perfectly willing to invest both, if the opportunity is promising enough.

Foreign Interests

The League of Free Cities

The League of Free Cities is not so much a single power as a collection of fiercely independent deomcratic city-states held together by the intertwined private empires of their leading citizens, deep and interdependent trading relationships, and a common religion that the rest of the world calls demon-worship - they view this as deeply offensive. Also they’ve been doing it for hundreds of years and they’re not all dead yet, so clearly everyone else is just doing demonology wrong. Politics are a mess of knives in the dark and openly bribing the voting populace with feasts and spectacles, with glory and riches to anyone who can hold the mob’s favor for long.

Demonic evocation - and the arts learned as a result of it, like fleshweaving, orienomarchy , breaking reality down into elemental chaos and shaping it to your whims, and so on - are in the rest of the world generally met with very thorough execution, making the freethinkers of the League the world’s bleeding edge in magical innovation. The entire culture of the League is also nearly custom-made to produce bold idiots willing to do what it takes to get rich or die trying, and the various Free City’s Adventurers Guilds are (in)famous the world over.

Until recently, the Free Cities considered Sethennai, if not one of them, then at least a younger sibling or benevolent dependency. Prince Cael’s coup has been taken as something of a wound, and the merchant interests who have lost out as he opened trade have made sure that in the decades since his name has become synonymous with bloody-handed tyranny. The first broadsheets celebrating his death will sell out in moments, and the acclaimed merchant adventurer Vyas Asraya, said to be en route to the city, is said to be very optimistic about future trading opportunities.

Holy Illyric Empire

Technically speaking a vast and sprawling feudal state unified only in the person of the Sovereign (Empress of Illyrin, Queen of Belthaya, Defender of the Hierophant of Imir, Grand Duchess of Abhari, etc, and so on, and so forth), the Empire dominates the better part of two continents, and in terms of size and prestige is unquestionably the foremost state on the globe. It is also a bureaucrat’s nightmare, its aristocracy distracted from their internal feuds only when they need to defend their ancestral rights from central overreach.

Ancient controls and long established relationships make Imperial binders the most fearsome conjurers and thaumaturges in the known world, a process not at all hurt by the wholesale incorporation of any powerful spirits or terrestrial god who will sign on the dotted line into the official pantheon. Illyrin Paladins are also easily the most storied heavy cavalry the world has ever seen, and Abharic necromancers are generally held to be the heirs (or direct pupils) of the inventors of the craft.

Illyric interests have prospered under Prince Cael’s reign, but the last years have seen Sethennai become a haven for heretical priests and radical binders, something Ambassador Konrad Reingard has been rumored to be increasingly frustrated with, though no one heard a word from his Oldport estate since the chaos began.

The Sublime Esheri Commonwealth

A thoroughly modern and enlightened state, the Commonwealth is history’s gift to the cartographer, an empire with firmly delineated borders and clear, rationally determined administrative divisions. Governed by a Janissary Corps educated and conditioned from childhood to put principle above self interest and the good of the Commonwealth above friends or (nonexistent) family, the Esheri control far less land than the Illyrin Empire, but has been able to fight it to a standstill and even force it to abandon certain far flung dependencies over a series of wars across the last century.

Beyond a ruthlessly efficient system for taxation and conscription, the Commonwealth’s military might is credited to two sources - on the one hand, its marines are the finest and most disciplined line infantry anyone is likely to ever see, experts in the use of gas and artillery and famously cool under fire. One the other, their heavy automata are an answer to any conjured devil or bound beast, enlightened clockwork providing enough force to cleave through scales and enchanted plate without missing a beat. But the Janissaries are as happy as their enemies to admit that they prefer unfair fights - though they credit their infamous spy network to the fruits of their scientific studies of society and history, while their enemies instead blame the corrupting effects of gold, blackmail, and a complete indifference to the morals of those they work with.

While the Commonwealth does have an embassy in the city, it mostly exists as an appendage of the First Sethennai Bank, the private institution responsible for printing and guarding the solvency of the city’s currency, its entire upper rung staffed by experts trained in the Commonwealth and generally considered Prince Cael’s way of paying back their support for his coup. More recently, it has been rumored that the Secretariat has taken an interest in the struggles in the interior. Coincidentally, an ‘Academic’ has been seen floating around various less than reputable bars in Chance, ostensibly as part of a project to record the city’s myths and folklore.

The Warlord States

For the last two hundred years, the interior has been an evershifting patchwork of successor kingdoms, native revolts, monstrous empires, released horrors, and stranger things besides, the unending tide of weapons and adventurers ensuring that no single player was ever able to secure dominance (and the various rulers of Sethennai have certainly played their part in keeping things that way). At the moment the foremost powers are a giantblooded kingdom led by a messaniac priest-king claiming to be the reincarnation of a Titan, a personal union enforced at sword point between a Khasli pirate queen and a goliath ‘emperor’, a red dragon who has claimed an old giant palace and forced the dwarves living in the mountains around it to provide tribute and worship, and several dozen more minor principalities. It should go without saying that war is the natural state of being, and soldiers are sucked up like ships in a whirlpool.

Adventurers are the lifeblood of Sethennai, and they don’t only flow one way. A constant stream of veterans - either enriched or embittered - skulk, limp or run back once they’ve had their fill of the wonders of the new world, usually missing something important or carrying something priceless - sometimes both. The courts and inner circles of every powerful warlord are composed exclusively of this sort of hard, tricky and generally insufferable type of rogue, and they’re often the only agents trusted enough to be dispatched on delicate missions. The line between warlord and criminal kingpin or pirate magnate is also extremely thin - sometimes nonexistent - as smuggling, sabotage and assassinations are simply basic tools of statecraft in the ruthless arena of the interior. More than once, an ambitious Prince of Sethennai has attempted to recreate their ancestor’s short lived empire, only to be found butchered in their bed but the agents of one warlord or another.

The Warlord States view Sethennai as a vital artery for supplies and funding, and for manpower to refill their armies with disposable bodies for their constant border wars. On a grander scale, those with ambition view it as either a crown jewel and future capital, or a bleeding ulcer on the land which needs to be razed to its foundations. In either case, few are interested in a strong, stable government for it. Regardless of their opinions, sending emissaries and embassies to the city is the first (and often only) diplomatic initiative of every new warlord state - though in truth their role is often closer to mercenary recruiter and fundraiser.

#this is theoretically a writing blog #D&D #abhari #well D&Dified but mostly #worlbuilding

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plaidbooks · 3 years ago

Text

Hard Hits and Fatherly Advice - “The Big Leagues” baseball AU (part 1)

(Moodboard by the ever lovely @witches-unruly-heart )

A/N: Oh boy is this a long one. It’s mostly dialogue, so hopefully it reads quickly. Anyways, this picks up basically right after the last chapter. I hope you all enjoy, and as always, feel free to send any questions about baseball terms!

(After feedback of liking shorter chapters, I split this one in two. Part 2 is out tomorrow)

Tags: light angst with a happy ending (in the next part), nightmares (in the next part), head injuries, near death experiences

Words: 2672

Taglist: @witches-unruly-heart @beccabarba @thatesqcrush @itsjustmyfantasyroom @permanentlydizzy @ben-c-group-therapy @infiniteoddball @glowingmess @whimsicallymad @lv7867 @storiesofsvu @cycat4077 @alwaysachorusgirl @glimmerglittergirl @joanofarkansass @redlipstickandblacktea @averyhotchner @mrsrafaelbarba @detective-giggles @crowleysqueenofhell @dreamlover31 @reading--mermaid @caracalwithchips @berniesilvas

Though Sonny was upset about not winning a ring in the World Series—as was the rest of the Mets clubhouse—the misery was short lived. You both only waited until February before you were married, and he got a ring much more valuable. It was a decently sized ceremony, in only because you both had big families. And true to your words, you were still on birth control. You both agreed that during the All-Star Break, that’s when you’d try for kids. But until then, you were enjoying each other as husband and wife.

The few months before Sonny would have to report to Florida were the happiest of either of your lives. You still wrote articles, and Sonny still did his workouts and training. Outside of that, though, you spent your time together. It’s like you couldn’t get enough of each other, couldn’t learn enough about each other, even though you’ve been together for five years now.

You went on trips—both in the city and out—rearranged the loft, laughed together, cried together, did everything together. It was like you were both trying to shove a year’s worth of quality time together within the two months he was home.

But soon enough, Sonny packed his bags, gave you a passionate kiss, then got on a plane to report to Spring Training. You talked to him every night, asked how his day was. He was incredibly excited for this season, working harder than ever. You understood why; this was the last season in Shea Stadium, before the Mets moved to Citi Field, and ol’ Shea would be demolished.

***********************

“And you’re sure they want to interview me?” you asked your boss. Your phone was shaking in your grip, your nerves going everywhere.

“They do! This is a big step for you; you won’t be working just the Mets anymore. If you get this hosting job with ESPN, you’re going to rocket to the top!” she replied.

You swallowed; this was a huge opportunity. But the Mets were your team, your home. Though, you could always do this interview now, make a final decision later. If you were picked up by ESPN, would you still be around home, though? Would you have to move, live away from Sonny? And you wouldn’t be working strictly within the baseball season anymore; they could have you do any sport they wanted. Were you really ready for this?

“So? Are you in?” your boss asked, and you realized you’ve been silent for minutes now.

You cleared your throat. “Y—yeah! When and where’s the interview?”

“It’ll be during Opening Day, in the SNY booth. You’ll be off for the night for it, of course.”

During the game? But Sonny was set to start, and you wanted to watch your new husband out on the mound. “Okay…yeah, okay. I can do that,” you replied, albeit a little less enthusiastically.

“Great! I’ll let them know to expect you!” She went quiet for a moment, before saying, “listen, I know this is scary, that it’s a lot of change. But this will be good for you. Trust me.”

***********************

You were fidgeting in your chair, dressed in your most professional outfit. The interview with the ESPN exec was…odd, to say the least. It wasn’t like a normal interview; no, he wanted to see you in action. So, after introducing yourselves, he turned his chair to look out at the field, inviting you to do the same. He asked you questions—everything from technical questions about a player to more general questions about the sport.

The game started, and Sonny Carisi took the mound. The ESPN exec smiled, motioning to him.

“I heard you two got married in the off season,” he commented.

You unconsciously ran your thumb over your ring. “We did, yeah.”

“So, I assume you know everything about his form and pitching style?”

Your eyes traveled to Sonny; the SNY booth was on the second level, so he looked very small down on the field. You watched him start his windup, pitch, get a called strike, and you smiled. “I do. But I knew his form before we were married. I remember first hearing his name when he was tearing up Triple A.”

“Yes, I’ve read your articles from that time. You were very prolific, and I think you’ve only gotten better with experience.”

You were flattered with the praise, giving him a smile and a thanks.

*******************

You weren’t sure how long this interview was supposed to go. It was the top of the fourth, and you never really loosened up around the man. But the questions seemed easy enough, and you were hoping you were doing well, whether you took the job or not.

As Sonny took the mound again, you leaned slightly forward to watch. The first pitch he threw, however, was crushed. The ball flew off the bat, and the whole world stuttered to a stop as it went right up the middle. In the blink of an eye, Sonny went from the end of his windup to flat on his back, the batter crouched on the ground with his head in his hands, and a group of trainers and coaches rushing to Sonny’s body.

***

Sonny was focused; it was the start of the fourth, and he was having a great game. Duca gave him a slider, but Sonny shook it off. Duca tried curve, shook off again. Fastball, right across the numbers? Sonny nodded before setting. He gripped the ball, as he had so many times before, and he threw. He knew as soon as he let go that he missed his target, that it was lower than he wanted it. He just hoped Pujols wouldn’t hit it out.

Sonny heard the crack of the bat hitting the ball. His glove moved of its own accord, going to block his face—from what, he did not know. There was pain, then nothing.

***

The ball hitting Sonny in the head replayed over and over again in your mind as you stared at his lifeless body. Move, your mind yelled to your legs. MOVE!

You felt your mouth move as you turned—muttering out a soft “excuse me”—before you were bolting out the door of the booth, racing to the locker room, the field, you weren’t sure, nor did you care. You needed to get to Sonny; that’s all you knew. You thundered down the stairs to the ground level. You could now hear the crowd cheering, and you felt the briefest touch of relief; Sonny was up, getting off the field. He had to be. Right?

You pushed past anyone and everyone who was in front of you, desperate to get to him. You were panting, your legs burning by the time you made it to the locker room door, but you didn’t feel it. The security guard asked for your id, and you ripped it off your shirt, throwing it at them as you pushed into the locker room.

You heard the crunch of the cleats on the floor before Sonny was on the stairs, four trainers guiding him. He had a dazed look in his eyes, his legs wobbly as they helped him to a bench. He had a huge bump on the right side of his head, his skin already discolored with a nasty bruise.

“Sonny, babe, are you okay?” you asked with bated breath, trying to catch his eye between the trainers hovering over him.

His glassy eyes glanced around until he found you. “D—dizzy,” he mumbled. Then his eyes rolled back, and he collapsed forward. The trainers caught him, laying him gently onto the bench while one went to call for the paramedics.

**********************

While Sonny was in the recovery room, you tracked down his doctor, determined to make sure your husband was going to be okay. He had regained consciousness in the ambulance, but barely. His eyes couldn’t focus on anything, flitting around the cabin. You tried talking to him, reassuring him, but his words were slurred, and he eventually passed out again.

“Mr. Carisi suffered a massive concussion and hemorrhaging; he’s lucky to be alive,” the doctor said after you found him. “A few inches to the left, and he would’ve died instantly.”

You tried to swallow past the lump in your throat. “But he’s going to be okay, right?”

“Oh yes; he was very lucky. He should recover fully, as long as nothing unexpected happens,” he replied. “Head injuries can be tricky.”

You nodded. “Does that mean he can play baseball again?” You knew that Sonny would want to know, that he’d want to make sure he could still play.

The doctor gave you a hard look, judging why you were prioritizing a game over your husband’s health. “Will he play again? Yes, I believe so. But not any time soon.”

“How long?” The words were out of your mouth before you could stop them. Maybe you were becoming more like Sonny than you thought.

He seemed to think about it for a moment. “Maybe 6-8 months, if he follows the physical therapy correctly.”

Your stomach dropped. “O—okay…. Do me a favor and let me tell him, please?”

“Of course. But I suggest not telling him anything too shocking when he first wakes up; he’s going to be disorientated.”

*****************

After speaking with the doctor, you retreated to Sonny’s room. He was still out, a bandage wrapped around his head, holding an ice pack to the spot he was hit. You sat next to him, taking his warm, limp hand in yours, threading your fingers through his. As time went by, you flipped on the TV. But the first thing you saw was a replay of Sonny getting hit, and you quickly turned it off, feeling sick to your stomach. It had looked…so bad. And it was; he was incredibly lucky to not be paralyzed, brain dead, or worse.

You wanted him to sleep as long as it took for his body to heal. But you also wanted him to wake up so that you could make sure he was okay. Though, you were dreading the inevitable talk about baseball, and you didn’t want to see the hurt in his eyes when you told him how long he was out for.

Eventually, Sonny slowly stirred. His eyelids fluttered, his breathing picking up. You had made sure to dim the lights so that his eyes wouldn’t get strained. He flexed his hand in your hold before giving you a light squeeze, which you returned. Once he finally opened his eyes, they focused onto you, his gaze still cloudy from medication.

“H—hey doll,” he breathed, voice raspy.

You quickly poured him a glass of water, holding it to his lips. “Hey, Peanut Butter Cup.”

He smiled at you, the action causing him to dribble water all over his chest. You put the glass down, reaching for napkins. “Sor—sorry,” he muttered as you patted him dry.

“Don’t be; you’re still on heavy medication—”

“I meant for getting injured. Making you worry.”

You gave him a soft smile, tossing the wet napkins on the table. You offered him more water, but he shook his head. “It’s okay, Sonny. I’m just…I’m so glad you’re okay.”

“Yeah…. What—what happened? Last thing I remember is…” he closed his eyes in pain as he thought.

“Don’t hurt yourself, love—”

“I was pitching,” he muttered, opening his eyes to look at you. “We were playing St. Louis on Opening Day…. I threw a fastball to Pujols; I knew I could make him chase up high—”

“He hit a comebacker, Sonny. Caught you right in the head,” you said softly.

Gently, he brought his free hand up to the side of his head, gingerly feeling the bandages. “I—I only remember throwing the pitch, then opening my eyes to the trainers and coaches leaning over me. Then nothing until right now.”

You nodded. “They helped you off the field. I made it to the locker room before you did. You passed out shortly afterwards.”

“But I’m okay?” he asked with big eyes, filled with trepidation and worry.

You tried to give him a reassuring smile. “You got hit pretty good. But you’ll be okay; I know you will be.” Like hell were you going to tell him about how close his brush with death really was. The thought made you slightly queasy.

“And I can get back out there, right? Pitch again?” His voice was filled with hope…and fear. When you didn’t answer right away, the fear took over. “I’ll be able to pitch again, right doll?”

You gripped his hand. “You will, yes. But Sonny, my love…your season is over.”

You didn’t think he could look more devastated than if you told him his whole family had died. Tears filled his eyes, and he looked away, pulling his hand from you and trying to wipe away the tears before they fell.

“You’re going to take this time to heal, babe. Then you’ll come back next season and kick some ass—”

“This is the last sea—season in Shea…. I’m never going to pitch in my home again…” he muttered, hiccupping.

Your heart broke for him, and you wanted nothing more than to somehow fix this. But there was nothing you—or anyone—could do. Head injuries could always take a turn for the worst; there was no fast tracking this recovery.

“This was already going to be your last season there. So, we start taking care of you, start working towards your healing. That way, you can pitch again for your team, your second family,” you said gently.

You found a clean, dry napkin, and handed it to him. He wiped his eyes, then turned to look at you, opening his mouth to say something. But then his eyes flicked over your shoulder, and you turned to find the doctor there.

“Is it true, Doc? Am I done for the season?” Sonny asked, voice desperate. It’s not that he didn’t believe you; he just didn’t want to believe the news.

He nodded. “Yes; you’ll be off for the next 6-8 months at minimum. You’re very lucky to be alive, Mr. Carisi.”

“I am? Was it that bad?” he asked, looking between you and the doctor.

The doctor also glanced at you, silently wondering why you told him the fact his season was over, but nothing else. “Why, yes, it was. You had a massive concussion and severe hemorrhaging. You avoided death by a few inches.”

You looked into your lap in resignation, eyes burning from unshed tears. Sonny saw the motion and turned to look at you.

“Did you know this?” he asked, voice hushed. You nodded, unable to look at him, and he sat there, dumbfounded, his mouth dropping slightly open.

The doctor did his checks, then left you both once again, sitting in silence.

“I—I can fight this, make it back before the postseason—”

“Sonny, no you can’t. Please. You need to think about yourself right now, your health. Not your team. Think about your own life—”

“But baseball is my life!” he yelled, exasperated. He looked to you, eyes pleading, and you gave him the same look back.

“Please, Sonny. Think about when we have kids. You want to be healthy for them, don’t you?” you asked.

He flinched as he thought about it, eyes scanning his bed. “Y—yeah…I do.”

“Then please take care of yourself. Pushing yourself can only hurt you in the long run.” You took his hand once more, bending down until he was looking at you. “Please, take care of yourself. For me? For our future family?”

You could see the fight drain out of him; it was one of the hardest things you’ve watched…and you hated that you caused it. But he nodded slightly. “Yeah. Okay. I’ll take it easy, heal from this 100% before I come back. For you. For our future children.”

#sonny carisi x reader #law and order svu #law and order svu fanfic #fanfic #my writing #the big leagues au #baseball!au #baseball!sonny

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geekys-corner · 3 years ago

Note

Mind listing the OCs/personas and a couple facts about them? (Might help with questions lol)

Sure! I’ve written 16 below lmao *sticks in a read more*

Anthony - Originally my version of Anti, he’s now a sweet bean who really likes plants. In his backstory and the start of his story, he was found in a tiny pocket dimension inside his old apartment while he and the place around him fell into disrepair with the only thing truly alive being his plants. After losing his entire family, he was very fragile and hurt himself quite a bit, but my other characters rescued him and nursed him back to health and stability!

Onyx - My angsty punk dude who I adore. He is on the autistic spectrum and is mostly non-verbal, once going 4 months without speaking before breaking the silence to tell his best friend that Viggo Mortenson broke his toe in that one scene in Lord of the Rings. They have a twin sister who is 13 minutes older and a firm witch while he is a firm nonbeliever. Sometimes he goes to the junkyard with a baseball bat to let out their anger.

Leon - His backstory is very dark so I won’t get into it, but he’s a very shy bean with one arm and a love for sewing. He has the fluffiest light pink hair, and is just the embodiment of pastel.

Kyle - The older brother of the duo! He’s friends with Onyx and also has a punk look with spiked blue hair, but he’s an absolute sweetheart! He’s eight years older than his brother, and ran away with him when he was a newborn to escape their abusive mother. He raised Joey on his own in the streets, escaping care systems that would split them apart and shove them in to foster homes, and grew up to be completely independent, albeit unaware of what it is like to have a loving family besides his brother. He may be quick to resort to fight or flight to protect his brother and grumpy to strangers, but he’s built them a good life!

Joseph - The little brother! Joey is a smart little kid, (ranging from 10 - 14 depending) with very bright ginger hair and freckles. He’s on the far side of the autistic spectrum and is completely nonverbal, but he’s very expressive, spunky, and loving whenever he’s able to. He adores peanut butter and milkshakes, and would very happily have them six times a day. While he can’t speak, he will send Kyle countless facts from astronomy or marine life through text at any time of day or night. He’s always seen in his blue skateboarding frog hoodie, a beetle backpack filled with his supplies, and his headphones and tablet. He loves to draw and he’s great at it, and always draws sharks, especially whale sharks.

Caelan - Another punk, but this time in bird form. He is a griffin, and in some AUs a dude with prosthetic feet. He has messy blond hair covering his eyes and is based around an Egyptian falcon. He’s very quick witted and very annoying to people who don’t know him, but would go to hell and back for his family.

Marioma - The model of a modern major general- this dude is the only one like him, meaning he has no AU counterparts! He’s different from my other characters since he’s technically self-aware, and acts in my stories if and when I want him to! He’s a grumpy, determined dude who’s trying to quit smoking per request of his boyfriend, Arthur. Before him, he was a sly, hardened, and cunning man who needed someone to rely on who wouldn’t die on him.

Arthur - Foster fails: 5. He owns a bookstore in the universe he inhabits and, just like Mari, he’s one of a kind! He lives the ideal rainy city aesthetic, with an apartment above his store with open windows, plants, cosy blankets and homemade food, handmade clothing, and animals. He’s got curly hair and his scarf is his comfort item, and he takes in animals if and when he can. He and Mari just live a comfortable life :’)

Clyde - A duo with Anthony, he was originally a version of Henrik, but is now completely different. This boy is a classic OC and therefore my teenage angst punching bag. He’s a doctor in his husband Lucas’ mafia, and is very strong-willed and the biggest sweetheart. He has water powers that I always forget about, and could very easily drown someone if he wanted to. Besides that, he does cry a lot over small things, and Lucas has walked in on him crying over their cat in a business-tie.

Levi - If he and Clyde fused, they’d make Henrik. He’s my 55 year old doctor who just the embodiment of grumpy cat and expresso. He’s very lanky and has joint problems after trauma in his late 20s, and sometimes you can hear his bones cracking as he walks. He has, can, and will slap the sense into Clyde when he needs to and hated him to begin with, but warmed up to him. But, he’s completely different to his husband Sage, and in the end, is a very caring guy who won’t take any shit. He’s also therapist, and gives sessions to most of my OCs- (he’s also the doctor at the end of Don’t Leave! Dr Allison!)

Tyrell (Cloak) - So I split the same OC into two halves, essentially from two AUs but in one? They’re not twins, they’re the same guy with separate families but they’re the same. They’re both POC with the same face, hair texture etc. Cloak-Ty is very grumpy, and is called Cloak because of the cloak he wears in his fantasy-based AUs! He wears an eye patch and lost his eye depending on the AU, and went through a lot. You can tell he’s angsty because half of his hair is buzzed off. He tried to push away his now-husband Demitri, but luckily he’s an absolute himbo who doesn’t know when to quit, and eventually melted through the icy layer to a loving, sarcastic, hard-working man.

Tyrell (Ponytail) - Same as above description wise! He’s taller and buff with a ponytail. He went through the same backstory, but was found by Daniel who took him to Lucas’ mafia where they recovered together and eventually fell in love. Half of his face is badly burned and the eye has pin-hole vision, but it doesn’t stop him from being the best sniper on the team. When at home, he loves tea, hanging with his family, and painting. He’s amazing at watercolour and earns money on the side from selling his work! Sometimes he and Dan team up and draw together!

Bloodbranded:

Wayde - He lives in the Winter Forest Region and hunts for his family with his exceptional archery skills. He’s witty and pretty spontaneous, making him good under pressure, but incredibly reckless. He has a bad claw scar across his right eye which cuts into his hair, but he can see just fine! He has beautiful green eyes with central heterochromia, so they turn brown in the centre. While he may be annoying and hot-headed, he cares a whole bunch and grows as a person to fall in love with Milo. He’s a hopeless romantic and protective as all hell, even when Milo can handle himself just fine.

Felicity - She wasn’t born in the WFR like Wayde, she was adopted by her two mothers and is Wayde’s cousin! She’s a POC with beautiful dark skin, and her parents style her hair in unique braids that are decorated by gold rings. She’s a magic user and a very skilled one at that, even when she’d just started out, and wishes to revive the old form of magic that had been taken over by the modern, corrupted magic form that’s based entirely on nepotism. She uses a staff and a book, and is clumsy to start out, but soon becomes a mage to be admired, or feared if you’re an enemy!

Milo - Unlike Felicity and Wayde, he was born in the desert region, and ends up in the WFR by mistake (which is a vast change in temperature for him). Because of the contrast in temperature, he’s always wrapped up in winter clothes, even in places where the others are sleeveless, just because he’s spent his whole life in the heat! When he’s at home, he lives with his Mother and goes out to collect lightning glass after the nightly storms to sell and turn into jewellery or windows etc. Milo was born deaf and uses sign language to communicate. He’s smart, energetic, and excited to see new things, but can handle himself with ease, and knows how to take care of himself through quick thinking and fighting skills from living in the desert. When he and Wayde start dating, he likes coming up behind him and cuddling him or giving him quick kisses!

Prism - Much like their name, they are very colourful. They are a dragon hybrid and live in a kingdom of others like them, but unlike any other dragon, their scales are - like their name - prisms. They gradient between rainbows across their body, but each scale has a rainbow shimmer when they move. Their wings are like stained glass, and their hair (as of now, it might change) is like labradorite! Prism is mute and doesn’t express much, usually communicating through eye rolls. They live as the King’s new heir after he took them in as he believes Prism is the symbol of their kingdom and species’ beauty. Because of this, they are completely untouched by any blade and don’t have a single blemish or scar as to preserve them. Many guards have died to prevent them from obtaining even the slightest scratch. Beyond their anxiety, they join the crew and act as the voice/sign of reason! Even if they are assigned to their kingdom, they soon learn that their friends truly care about them more than their appearance.

That’s most of my OCs, this is already super long so I don’t want to drag it on! If anyone is interested in any OC, feel free to drop an ask, I’d love to write one shots or answer questions! <3 ^^

#geekyfox1's ocs #oc #oc list #bloodbranded #bloodbranded development #oc description

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tigerkirby215 · 3 years ago

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5e Fluttershy, the Element of Kindness build (My Little Pony: FIM)

(Artwork by SophiesPlushies on DeviantArt.)

Like, it took me a solid 5 minutes to find the first image in this post and I had to sift through so much softcore porn to find it. I didn’t even find it by searching DeviantArt I had to go on fucking derpibooru oh my lord.

Anyways: here’s another shit brony build because people don’t hate me enough! Well that and I do genuinely love the characters from My Little Pony, and think that they’d be fun to make builds for. But feel free to call me a garbage brony at your leisure.

These are the words of a man who has been beaten down after being a brony for around 10 years.

GOALS

I'm just good with animals - Fluttershy talks to animals. That’s one of the main things she does really.

I'm doing this because you're my very best friend - As the element of kindness we of course need to share our heart and soul with our friends.

Nopony pushes new Fluttershy around! - MLP Wiki makes an express point of mentioning The Stare in Fluttershy’s powers, so of course we’ll do our best to include that.

RACE

Before you say anything no I’m not a pegasi stan just because I did both Fluttershy and Rainbow Dash. Regardless Aaracokra still makes the most sense for Fluttershy unfortunately because there’s few bird races and fewer flying races.

As an Aaracokra you +2 to Dexterity and +1 to Wisdom which we’ll be keeping because I don’t know if your DM will allow Tasha’s rules. You also get 50 feet of Flight but you can’t be wearing Medium or Heavy Armor to do this, which means I don’t get to say “something something Medium Armor.” And finally you can buck someone to deal damage equal to a d4 plus your Strength; technically their Talons which deal slashing damage but feel free to view them however you want.

If I was to build Fluttershy I’d honestly use the Owlfolk UA race (which will hopefully be out in Wild Beyond the Witchlight and / or Strixhaven) for a multitude of reasons, the most notable of which being the fact that you can fly with Medium armor as an Owlfolk. But the Detect Magic Ritual ability is also nice as is the reaction to stop yourself from falling. Unfortunately Aaracokra technically made more sense since Fluttershy can’t detect magic.

Basically even I have to make choices which are suboptimal in order to ensure maximum roleplay, and even when I play my builds I change them to make them better to play.

ABILITY SCORES

15; WISDOM - You are compassionate and good with animals: both those things are Wisdom skills!

14; DEXTERITY - Since I can’t go “something something medium armor” for this build (yay Aaracokra) I guess getting a 16 in DEX thanks to your race is a good call. If playing an Owlfolk or something you can afford to having 14 total in DEX, as you can then wear medium armor.

13; CONSTITUTION - Look, roleplay stats are great and all but so is not dying.

12; CHARISMA - You are cute small pony... bird... Pony-bird...

10; INTELLIGENCE - Most of your time was spent taking care of animals and most of your knowledge comes from on-hand training as opposed to studying. Basically you’re not Twilight.

8; STRENGTH - As a young filly Rainbow Dash would do most of the heavy lifting for you. As a young mare Rainbow Dash still does most the heavy lifting for you. She is a Barbarian after all!

BACKGROUND

Most ponies know to come to you if their pets are in trouble, and if you’ve ever had pets you know the doctor that helps them is a true Folk Hero. As a Folk Hero you get proficiency in Animal Handling (yay) but I’d swap the Survival proficiency out for Stealth because well... you’re very good at hiding. You also get proficiency with Land Vehicles (most Land Vehicles in D&D are controlled by animals; usually horses! Wait... aren’t you a horse?) and an Artisan’s Tool of your choice: go for Carpenter’s Tools to make some bird houses and chicken coops!

After living in Ponyville for so long most ponies are willing to give you some Rustic Hospitality, giving you a warm place to rest and recover... as long as you can get over your crippling shyness! Eep!

(Artwork by probablyfakeblonde on DeviantArt.)

THE BUILD

LEVEL 1 - CLERIC 1

Starting off as a Cleric because I thought Wisdom and Charisma saves were more fitting for Fluttershy, and for the Insight and Medicine skill proficiencies.

As a Cleric you get to choose your subclass at level 1, and there’s nothing you love more than a little bit of Peace and quiet. As a Peace Cleric you get proficiency in Performance thanks to Implement of Peace, for those great MLP song numbers. But more importantly you can call on the power of friendship for an Emboldening Bond!

As an action, you choose a number of friends within 30 feet of you (this can include yourself) equal to your proficiency bonus. Your friendship bonds them together for 10 minutes or until you use this feature again. While any bonded creature is within 30 feet of another they get a d4 they can add to an attack roll, ability check, or saving throw once per turn. You can use this feature a number of times equal to your proficiency bonus, and you regain all expended uses when you finish a long rest.

And finally we can talk about the Spellcasting! You get three cantrips from the Cleric list at level 1: Guidance is always welcome among friends, and Spare the Dying can be a literal life safer! Other than that you are still expected to fight in D&D so take Sacred Flame to defend yourself. You can also prepare a number of spells equal to your Cleric level plus your Wisdom modifier. As a Peace Domain Cleric you can inspire Heroism among your friends, or protect yourself (and hide!) with Sanctuary.

Other than that Healing Word is a staple healing spell (we aren’t taking Cure Wounds right now for reasons but feel free to prepare it), Shield of Faith will let you defend your allies, Protection from Evil and Good will help you invoke the Elements of Harmony against the big bad of the season, and Detect Evil and Good will help you find the Elements of Harmony!

You could also take Bless, but I’m not going to tell you to take Bless because optimizers would crucify me for telling you to double up on d4s.

LEVEL 2 - CLERIC 2

Second level Clerics get their Channel Divinity once per short rest and you have a variety of options to choose from:

Turn Undead will make skeletons and zombies not want to hurt the cute little ponies, which will force them to run away for awhile.

Balm of Peace (the main reason we took the second level in Cleric) will let you run around and heal all your friends for 2d6 plus your Wisdom modifier.

And Harness Divine Power (ty Tasha’s) will let you recover a spell slot, but can only be used a limited amount of times per Long Rest.

You can also prepare another spell and be a little less nice with Command. Telling your enemies to “LOVE” isn’t going to be that effective, but making them grovel or drop works just as fine.

LEVEL 3 - RANGER 1

When you spend enough time around animals you’re automatically either a Ranger or a Druid. Quinn? Never heard of ‘em. Regardless multiclassing into Ranger gives you proficiency in a skill from the Ranger list and it’s good to know about Nature so you can find plants to help your fluffy buddies! Deft Explorer also gives you two language proficiencies (again: pick your poison) and Expertise in a skill. You’ll never guess which skill we’ll be getting... it’s Animal Handling. You’re good with animals.

We actually aren’t going to be taking Favored Foe because we aren’t using weapons for one, but more importantly despite it’s name Favored Enemy is also good for tracking friends! You have advantage on Survival checks to track your favored “enemies”, as well as on Intelligence checks to recall information about them. Go for Beasts to easily find a feathered or fluffy friend! Oh and you also get more languages because I don’t know why, so again pick your poison.

LEVEL 4 - RANGER 2

Second level Rangers get their Fighting Style, or as I like to call it your Helping Style because we’ll be going for Druidic Warrior! You can pick up two cantrips from the Druid list: I opted for Druidcraft (you can grow some flowers for your friends; yay!) and Mending to tend to your cottage.

And of course with cantrips we also get more Spellcasting! You can learn two spells from the Druid list: you’re never not going to want Cure Wounds (which is why we didn’t take it earlier btw) and Animal Friendship is an obvious must.

LEVEL 5 - RANGER 3

Third level Rangers get to choose their Ranger Archetype and we’ll be going for the Gloomsta- Ah you all know it’s going to be Beast Master. You get a Ranger’s Companion not from the PHB but from Tasha’s! The Beast of Land would make the most sense and while it’s probably expected that they be a wolf or something you can pretend that you’re playing Fighting is Magic and have Angel Bunny fight for you! Anyways here’s a crash course on your new fluffy friend:

Their AC is equal to 13 plus your proficiency bonus (currently 16.)

Their health is equal to 5 + five times your Ranger level (currently 20) and they have a number of d8 hit die equal to your Ranger level.

They have a 40 foot movement speed and a 40 foot climbing speed.

You can command it to attack with your bonus action; it has the same hit chance as your spell hit chance (WIS mod + Prof Bonus [currently 6]) and deals a d8 + 2 + prof bonus damage.

If they move at least 20 feet straight toward a target and then hit with an attack on the same turn, the target takes an extra 1d6 slashing damage and must make a Strength saving throw against your spell save DC (if they’re a creature.) If they fail they’re knocked prone.

You can command the beast to attack, dash, disengage, or hide with your bonus action.

If you don’t command it they take the dodge action.

You can revive them with a spell of first level or higher 1 hour after they die, and can change your beast after a long rest.

Man, who knew that taking care of a pet was so difficult? Well you also get Primeval Awareness (because Primal Awareness actually doesn’t work that well for this build.) You can use your action and one spell slot to sense the following types of creatures within 1 mile of you: aberrations, celestials, dragons, elementals, fey, fiends, and undead. This lasts for one minute, and doesn’t reveal the creatures’ location or number.

And you learn another spell: Goodberry is good to feed yourself and all your friends! As long as they’re okay with eating berries, of course. C’mon... they’re good for you! Pleeeease?

(Artwork by AssasinMonkey on DeviantArt.)

LEVEL 6 - RANGER 4

Finally an Ability Score Improvement... or Feat? We’ll be going for Eldritch Adept, which is admittedly weird but it’s the only way to get Beast Speech so you can Speak with Animals at will! Is total level 6 a little late to finally be able to speak with animals? Yeah, but this is unlimited so it fits better and doesn’t spend your spell slots.

LEVEL 7 - CLERIC 3

Finally back to Cleric land which means finally we can prepare some second level spells! As a Peace domain Cleric you automatically get Aid and Warding Bond prepared, both of which are very good for keeping your friends alive. You can also finally get Hold Person to finally have The Stare!

LEVEL 8 - CLERIC 4

Level 4 in Cleric means another Ability Score Improvement: Wisdom is still your core stat so increasing that by 2 would be your best choice.

You also get another cantrip at this level, and can prepare two more spells! For cantrips I’d recommend Light to see with your dumb bird eyes unless you’re an Owlfolk, and I’d recommend preparing Lesser Restoration and Enhance Ability to further boost your friends.

(Artwork by Koveliana on DeviantArt.)

LEVEL 9 - CLERIC 5

5th level Clerics can now Destroy Undead of CR 1/2 or lower with their Channel Divinity. Don’t feel too bad about it; they were big dumb meanies anyways!

You can also prepare third level spells too! As a Peace Domain Cleric you get Beacon of Hope to help with healing, and Spike can send letters out for you with Sending. You can also prepare Dispel Magic in case Twilight needs help with more dangerous spells.

LEVEL 10 - CLERIC 6

6th level Peace Clerics get Protective Bond. When a creature affected by your Emboldening Bond is about to take damage, another bonded creature within 30 feet of the first can use its reaction to teleport to an unoccupied space within 5 feet of the first creature. That creature then takes all the damage instead. It’s worth mentioning that since this specifies “creature” you can actually bond with your beast companion and have it use its reaction, or have others go in to defend angel.

You can also prepare another third level spell like Revivify, so you don’t lose any friends. And to top it off you can use your Channel Divinity twice per short rest! Woohoo!

LEVEL 11 - CLERIC 7

7th level Cleric, 4th level spells. As a Peace Domain Cleric you get Aura of Purity to protect your friends, and Otiluke’s Resilient Sphere to put your enemies in time out. You can also prepare another spell like Freedom of Movement, in case you need to run!

LEVEL 12 - CLERIC 8

8th level Clerics get a variety of features. To start off you get an Ability Score Improvement, which means we can finally cap off your Wisdom for maximum spellcasting! This also means you can prepare more spells, but we’re actually going to hold off on getting more spells for now.

You can also put a little more LOVE into your spells with Potent Spellcasting, adding your Wisdom modifier to the damage of your Cleric cantrips. And finally your Channel Divinity will now Destroy Undead or CR 1 or lower.

LEVEL 13 - CLERIC 9

The reason we held off on getting more Cleric spells last level is because now we get those big 5th level spells! As a Peace Domain Cleric you can help your friends out of any jam with Greater Restoration, and know what they really mean to say thanks to Rary’s Telepathic Bond.

You can also prepare some of those big hitter spells like Mass Cure Wounds to save your friends, and you can cast both Dawn and Summon Celestial to call on Celestia herself! Isn’t that Twilight’s job? Well, it’s still good to have contacts!

(Artwork by CigarsCigarettes on DeviantArt.)

LEVEL 14 - RANGER 5

Now that we’ve got all the support we could need for our friends it’s time to return to our roots and focus on Angel! Feel free to focus more on Ranger instead of Cleric if you so desire when building this yourself; I simply opted for more healing instead of damage.

We’re finally 5th level with Ranger which finally means you’ll be getting an Extra Attack!... Which you probably won’t use because you can use cantrips instead. Well it’s still nice to have?

The good thing though is that you can learn more Ranger spells like Healing Spirit, which is a really strong healing spell that was kinda gutted by erratas. But it’s still nice and efficient regardless of what spell slot you casted it at, effectively being a 6d6 heal for a second level spell slot!

LEVEL 15 - RANGER 6

6th level Rangers can now add Roving to their list of skills from Deft Explorer. Your movement speed increases by 5 feet, and you get both a climbing and swimming speed equal to your walking speed. Is total level 15 a little late to get a 30 foot movement speed? Yeah probably, but every little bit helps!

Speaking of another little bit you get another Favored Enemy... I mean friend! ...I don’t know pick whatever you think will be relevant for the campaign. Also yes: you do get more languages, because Ranger.

LEVEL 16 - RANGER 7

7th level Beast Masters have Exceptional Training with their Animal Companion. You can use a bonus action to command the beast to take the Dash, Disengage, or Help action on its turn... which you could already do anyways thanks to Tasha’s.

I’d say that after Tasha’s this feature would work even if you don’t command your beast, but as always discuss the rules with your DM.

Well at least Angel’s attacks count as magical to overcome resistances, which is good because you were probably dealing with nonmagical resistance for awhile now.

You can also prepare another spell like Pass Without Trace, so you and your friends can sneak around unseen. Pass Without Trace is one of those spells that is always useful regardless of what level you are, so picking it up now is still useful!

LEVEL 17 - RANGER 8

8th level Rangers get another Ability Score Improvement. You’ve probably noticed our uneven Constitution score by this point: yeah that was because we were going to grab Resilient Constitution at some point. Increasing your CON gives you a nice +17 to your health and makes your Constitution saves (and concentration saves!) a +8 total.

You’ve also spent so much time on the ground moving through nonmagical difficult terrain costs you no extra movement thanks to Land’s Stride. You can also pass through nonmagical plants without being slowed by them or taking damage from them. Additionally, you have advantage on saving throws against plants that are magically created or manipulated to impede movement. You may be able to fly but that doesn’t mean being able to move on the ground isn’t useful!

(Artwork by AssasinMonkey on DeviantArt.)

LEVEL 18 - RANGER 9

9th level Rangers can learn third level spells, and you’ve probably spent enough time training with Rainbow Dash by this point to make a Wind Wall to protect your friends! (Basically the Ranger spell list sucks and we’re only really going down Ranger still for more subclass features.)

LEVEL 19 - RANGER 10

You get a new feature from Deft Explorer at this level: you are now Tireless! As an action you can give yourself a number of temporary hit points equal to 1d8 plus your Wisdom modifier (so 5.) You can use this action a number of times equal to your proficiency bonus, and regain all expended uses when you finish a long rest. Additionally whenever you finish a short rest your exhaustion level is decreased by 1.

You’re also a master of avoiding social interaction. Nature’s Veil lets you turn invisible as a Bonus Action until the start of your next turn. You can also use this feature a number of times equal to your proficiency bonus, and regain all expended uses when you finish a Long Rest.

LEVEL 20 - RANGER 11

11th level Beast Masters can invoke Bestial Fury! With 11 level in Ranger and 20 total levels in this build your Animal Companion can now... attack twice! Look Beast Master is playable now, I never said it was good.

At least you can learn one last Ranger spell: in your ultimate stand against darkness Daylight will help you banish the dark! ...Or something. Look again: the Ranger spell list sucks.

FINAL BUILD

PROS

You do not hurt my friends! You got that? - Even with the multiclassing you still get spell slots up to 7th level, and have more than enough magic to shake a stick at. Not to mention that Angel will always be by your side to pump out a bit more damage with your Bonus Action!

You’re the cutest thing ever - Maxed out Wisdom was rather expected from a Cleric, but Expertise in Animal Handling combined with unlimited Beast Speech means that you can easily make friends with any beast you come across! Just make sure your DM is okay with you giving a hydra belly rubs.

Whatever you wanna do is fine... - You’ve got quite a good mix of features that will help you both in and out of combat, meaning that there’s plenty that your friends can rely on you to help with! In fact there’s a lot of things that only you can do as a Ranger which are quite helpful!

CONS

You’re such a loudmouth... - Most of your class resources only come back after a Long Rest, with only your Channel Divinity coming back after a Short Rest. You’re still plenty capable with just Angel by your side but don’t spend everything in one fight, or else you’ll be left with nothing but Sacred Flame and Animal Companion attacks.

Are you coughing because... - So let’s talk about Angel: even with 11 levels in Ranger they’re not great. AC of 19 is pretty good but they’ll probably max out around 60 HP. Your average Wizard will have more HP than this by level 20. Two maul attacks will do decent damage but you could get equal value out of Spiritual Weapon, and you only get the second attack with Angel at total build level 20. And yeah for most of this build Angel is going to be sitting around 25 max HP, meaning they’re likely to go down a lot. Aid can help keep your pets healthy and happy but don’t be upset when your level 4 Ranger companion keeps going down.

Awful, just awful! - We kinda miss the best of both worlds for the sake of a build that’s “in-character.” No 10th level of Cleric means no Divine Intervention (even if it’s only a 10% chance it’s still good to have), and no 12th level of Ranger means no ASIs. One good thing about this build is that it does peak around level 10 or so where the multiclassing doesn’t start to damage it, but if you really expect to run all the way to level 20 I’d sooner play either a straight Ranger or a straight Cleric.

But you’re coming along to share your kindness with everypony around you, and guide your friends to victory! Use your expertise to keep your friends alive while Angel kicks some major tail! Get down and be assertive, but remember not to push yourself too hard. Everypony already loves you for who you are, even if you’re in fact a little shy.

(Artwork by Rodrigues404 on DeviantArt.)

#dnd #dnd build #dnd guide #My Little Pony #Friendship is Magic #mlp: fim #brony #dnd ranger #dnd cleric #fluttershy #flutter pony #animals

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