#warmonger au

[aethershroud]

Easy to say, really. I saw @cheatsykoopa98 draw Ragatha in The Pomni Shirt(tm) and got inspired. We should make this a thing. Everyone go draw your OC in The Pomni Shirt(tm).

Also go follow Cheatsy they're good people, a good artist and they kind of need money. Every little helps!

[transingthoseformers]

Forced Redemption Arc au: In Marvel G1 (UK), Catilla and Carnivac are Decepticon pretenders who defect to the Autobots at some point. So perhaps Ratchet isn't completely alone the whole time? There was also a guy named Warmonger who was a deep-cover Autobot infiltrating the Decepticons.

(Not sure about the timeline here)

Ooo?? That'd be interesting

[aethershroud]

Aww sick! Creator of War Marie here, btw. Appreciate the work! ^^

war marie. didn't come out how i wanted it to (and the night skybox wasn't really showing up), but this was fun!

[mikashisus]

PRIDE OF THE SUN

SYNOPSIS: being a child of apollo was a great honor... until you have a vision about a certain ginger that flips your entire world on its head.

PAIRING: ares kid!tartaglia x apollo kid!fem!reader

warnings: blood, angst

wc: 5.9k

notes: if u couldn't tell, this is a percy jackson au... anyw this whole fic took me the entire day yesterday to write- like no joke i spent 12 hrs on this shit... NEVER AGAIN *looks at drafts* nvm i might have to do this again in the future... u guys will see why soon enough. wink wink.

You hated this. Hated him. 

There you sat, on your ass on the hard ground with Ajax’s spear pointed to your throat. You sneered up at him. 

One wrong move and that spear would go straight through your neck. You glanced down at the sharp tip and the way it gleamed under the light of the afternoon sun. That only made it all the more menacing. 

Truthfully, you were a bit scared he might finish the job and shove the spear right through you. He didn’t… for obvious reasons. 

But you swore you saw him move just a tiny bit closer. You swallowed the fear you harbored in your heart, ignoring the way the organ thumped impossibly fast against your ribcage. You would never show weakness in front of him. You would never let him know you were scared. 

Revealing your weakness to him was like a rabbit leaping right into a wolf’s jaws. 

You refused to be the rabbit. 

As he was busy gloating over his victory, you sought an opening. With one swift kick, you knocked him down onto the ground. His spear struck your cheek, leaving a clean cut through the flesh. You barely felt it happen until a stinging rose from the area. 

Touching your cheek, you frowned. Blood coated your fingers. Eh, you’d live. It was just a scratch. 

You stood up and grabbed his spear, smirking at him as he looked up at you with a fire burning in his eyes. You loved beating down the Ares kids. They were nothing but arrogant bastards, and here you had the best one in camp on the ground with his own weapon pointed at his face. 

“Looks like I win, brute.” 

Your little distasteful nickname for him made a scowl appear on his face as he slowly stood up and spit blood out of his mouth. He stared at you, brows furrowed and eyes devoid of any life. That was what you hated most about him: his ability to look so fucking terrifying when he wanted to. Or maybe it was without even trying. 

He wiped the blood from his lip, the trail staining the side of his chin and his cheek. The earring that hung from his ear sparkled in the light of the sun, and you had the urge to ask where he had gotten it from. It certainly wasn’t from his father… or was it? 

You knew his double-edged spear came from his father, but you were skeptical on where he had gotten the earring. Did he even have that a few days ago? 

The scary look on his face made you falter for just a second when you whisked yourself back to reality. His breathing was hard, his chest heaving as if he was angry. Suddenly, you felt small and weak under his gaze. 

He wasn’t called the strongest child of Ares for nothing. 

“That was a dirty trick…” for a second, you thought he was serious, until, “I like your style, sunshine!” 

You scoffed, throwing his spear onto the ground and shoving past him. He quickly reached for it and scrambled after you, yapping in your ear all the way. You were beginning to get a headache from his voice. 

This wasn’t the first time he chased you around camp while you ignored him, and it definitely wasn’t the first time you two fought. According to the other campers, you “had a history” with each other. That made it sound as if you were once in a relationship, which couldn’t be further from the truth. 

You’d never date someone like him– someone so bloodthirsty for power and warfare that it drove them to the brink of insanity. 

Okay… so maybe he wasn’t insane (though, you firmly believed he was from that crazed look in his eyes) but he was certainly a warmonger. 

Like father, like son. 

It was true you had a history, but it wasn’t in the relationship type of way. It was the “I’ll kill you because you insulted me when we were kids” type of way. 

When you first arrived at camp, you were eleven years old. Back then, you wanted absolutely nothing to do with anyone or anything. Your own mother casted you out of the house, calling you spawn of the devil for being a half-blood, even though you knew she gloated when it came to the fact that she had a child with a god. You never understood her hatred for you when all she did was brag to her friends about your father. 

Out on the streets, with nowhere to go, you learned how to fend for yourself. With nothing on your person but the necklace your father had supposedly given your mother, you did what you could to survive. Your ballads and ugly crying garnered the attention of passerby, and with the little kindness they had in their hearts, they gave you money. You used that money for necessities, like food and water. But you also used it for things you wanted; like, that shiny guitar you saw in the downtown area’s music store. 

You saved up enough money to buy it within half a year, luring in passerby with your gift of song. Like a siren’s call, you drew them in, and you quickly learned how to utilize your demigod abilities to get what you wanted. When you bought the guitar and strummed the first chords to a song your mother always absentmindedly sang, that’s when your father appeared before you for the very first time. 

And that was how you wound up in camp a few days later. You were guided to the Apollo cabin by your own father, who was way more flamboyant than you expected, and after that, you were left to settle in. 

You watched your father disappear into a flurry of golden flames and a soft hum of a heavenly choir. When you turned to your bed, a drawing of a sun was etched into the fine wood of your guitar. Over time, there would grow to be more and more drawings left on your guitar, one for each time your father visited you. 

Settling into camp was hard. You were shy, and quiet, and the other kids in your cabin were a bit too outgoing for your liking, a true testament to your father’s personality. At first, it seemed as if you were the black sheep among your siblings. That was quickly proven wrong when a boy who was a year younger than you showed up at your cabin one day, staring at you with a menacing fire burning in his eyes as you played your guitar. 

You didn’t notice him right away, as you were too lost in the music and the homey atmosphere of the cabin to even pay attention to what was going on around you. That’s what it was like for you with music: you lost all sense of the material world as you plucked at the strings of your guitar, mentally transporting yourself to a different plane of existence. This was how you– most of the time, connected yourself with your father. 

Unbeknownst to you, you were also plucking at Ajax’s heartstrings. Ajax, the boy who was standing in the doorway, completely enraptured by your performance. His eyes lit up with an excitement no one had ever seen in him before. Then, he spoke, his words tumbling fast and loud out of his mouth like a roaring lion. 

You jumped, and you were forcefully pulled out of your meditation. The more he rambled on, the more you grew annoyed. You put the pieces together. He was loud; boisterous, bellicose, arrogant, and every step he took made the earth rumble beneath his feet. There was a fire that burned brightly in his eyes, one that screamed ‘Come at me if you dare, I’ll show you what I’m made of.’ 

There was no doubt in your mind: he was a child of Ares. 

Was every child of Ares this full of themselves? He even claimed he was better at the arts than you! How dare he! 

That was the first time you cursed him to speak in rhyming couplets for a week straight. You didn’t even know you could do that. When you asked your cabin leader about it, all they said was that you had a lot to learn about what it meant to be a child of Apollo. 

And ever since that day, you swore you’d knock Ajax off of his high horse. And boy were you determined to do so. 

There were quite a few things you could do that he couldn’t, and one of them was wielding a bow. 

You were the most skilled archer at camp. The first time you picked up a bow, you felt the wind rush past you and caress your form. You felt relaxed, at ease, as if you’ve been wielding a bow your whole life– as if you came out of the womb with it clutched tightly in your hands. 

Wielding a bow was Ajax’s weakness. It was the one weapon he could never master. You held it over his head like a vice. 

All your insults never deterred his advances, and you found your hatred for him growing with each passing day. But you never once gave up trying to prove him wrong. You would prove to him that you were more than what his siblings called you: a siren. You’d prove you were a worthy opponent, and that your skills were worth it in not only his eyes, but the entire camp’s. 

It was not just because you hated him, but because he utterly humiliated you on more occasions than you could count on both hands. 

As soon as you managed to get out of his reach for today, you let out a sigh of relief and decided to take a nice, warm bath. It was very much needed after a long day of combat training. 

You bid hello to your half siblings and made a beeline for the bath as soon as you set your bow down on your bed. When you sunk into the hot water of the bath, you felt as if you were ascending to the heavens. The water felt heavenly against your muscles that were previously screaming. Now, they ached as you gently massaged your calves. Your nose scrunched up from the soreness. 

You were on your feet for almost the entire day. It was no wonder your feet felt a little numb from all of the exercise. 

Leaning back against the tub, you allowed your whole body to breathe and relax. A knock sounded on the door, and your eye twitched. Just when you thought you had some alone time…

The voice of your half brother, Kaeya, sounded from the other side of the door. 

“Hey, sis, you in there? I heard there’s gonna be fireworks tomorrow to celebrate Diluc’s return.”

Diluc was Kaeya’s adoptive brother and a son of Athena. They weren’t on the best terms, but they still considered each other brothers. At least, that’s what you assumed. They’d probably drop dead before ever admitting it out loud. 

Regardless of how well they got along, you were also dragged into their little family. Kaeya was a few months older than you, and although that wasn’t much of an age gap, he still liked to call you his little sister. 

The first time he introduced you to Diluc, you were scared out of your mind. Diluc was intimidating and he towered over you. It took quite a while for you to be able to talk to him without being terrified of him. Once you saw how much of a big softie he was, the fear was quickly replaced with admiration. 

You admired how strong he was and how much he cared for his family.

You jumped up at Kaeya’s words. “What!? That’s tomorrow?” 

You heard him chuckle. “Yes, dummy. His pet arrived today with news of his homecoming, so Jean decided to hold a party. There’ll be fireworks!” 

Your love of fireworks was well known throughout camp. Although you weren’t a fan of loud noises, you had a deep love for fireworks and their ability to light up the night sky with their beauty. 

You wished you could shine as bright as they did. They shone like the sun, and you were a lover of the sun. 

Scrambling out of the tub and leaving your warm bath behind, you dried yourself off and threw on a new pair of clothes before exiting the bathroom. Kaeya stood outside, a knowing smirk on his face. Suddenly, you had a bad feeling about going to that party. 

Kaeya and that look was never a good omen. It always led to something bad. 

“What’s with the face?” He asked, following you to your bed. His was right below yours. 

“What face?” 

He crossed his arms over his chest. “That one. The one you’re making right now.” 

“You have something hidden up your sleeve, don’t you?” You squinted. “Whatever it is, I want no part of it!” 

He only snickered, which did nothing to help your suspicions. He climbed onto your bed, ignoring your protests to get off. You threw one of your stuffed animals in his face. 

“Get away from me!” You laughed, attempting to fend him off but it was no use. 

“I just want a hug from my baby sister!” 

You kicked him in the ribs, causing him to double over in pain. He slapped your foot, resulting in a loud ‘OW’ from you. 

The next day was the day Diluc was coming home. You asked Jean if you could help prepare, but upon seeing how much she already had done, you realized that she probably didn’t even need your help. Or anyone’s, with the way she was yelling at people to let her do all the work. 

“So, your brother’s coming back today, huh?” 

You sighed heavily. Of course, Ajax was here to bother you yet again. When would you ever be able to catch a break? 

“Yes,” you replied curtly. 

He frowned at your cold response. It wasn’t too out of the ordinary for you, but just once he wished you’d talk to him like you talked to your friends. 

He tried again. “I never asked how the two of you are related. Or do the two of you just refer to yourselves as siblings because you’re close?” 

“It’s none of your business.”

A sigh left your lips, and you grabbed your bow from beside you. Instead of answering his question, you walked off to go practice shooting. Ajax stared after you longingly, the pout on his lips resembling that of a kicked puppy. 

He wouldn’t give up in his pursuit. 

You couldn’t count how many arrows you ripped through targets in the last hour, but you sure were more aggravated today than you were the day before. Ajax continued to push your buttons, and you were running out of ways to calm yourself down each time. 

Meditation with music no longer worked unless you were completely alone, and now you couldn’t even focus entirely on the targets without thinking of his annoying face. One thing that helped was imagining the target was him and that your fire arrows were ripping right through his head. 

Kaeya asked you about your hatred for him once, and to his question, you replied, “All he ever does is humiliate me. All he does is shove his skills in my face and boast when I can’t do things that he can. I feel powerless when I’m standing next to him.”

You pulled your arm back again, ready to fire another arrow, when suddenly your vision went white. Not now! You thought, cursing out your own precognition as you watched future events play out. 

You assumed it would be the same old, same old of someone getting hurt and needing to be healed by one of your siblings, or a mellow talk between you and Kaeya, but it was nothing of the sort. You even assumed it would be a vision of Diluc returning home, or something that would happen at the party tonight, but it was neither. It wasn’t anything dangerous, either. 

Instead, what you saw was Ajax sitting down in front of you on the training grounds. It was dark outside, and the only light sources came from the lanterns hanging in the trees. You were staring up at him with the same scowl you always gave him, but the smile he always wore was nowhere to be seen. In its place was a frown, and in his eyes, the fire that always made itself home there has completely fizzled out. 

He reached a hand out to you, the side of his face dripping with crimson red blood. He looked about ready to pass out right then and there. Hesitantly, you took hold of his hand. He pulled you closer to him, wrapping an arm around your form. 

You weakly fought against his hold, grabbing onto his shirt tightly. Instead of pushing him away like you thought you’d do, you pulled him closer, until your lips were mere inches apart. He muttered something then, something that was indecipherable to you. 

After that, you looked into his eyes with a look you never thought you’d give anyone. Then, his lips met yours, and the vision faded into nothing. You gasped for air, clutching tightly to your chest as a figure in front of you held you by the shoulders. Their voice was frantic, distorted, as the ringing in your ears blocked out everything. 

When your vision cleared, you looked up, expecting to see the comfort of Kaeya’s periwinkle colored fluffy jacket, only to see the red of a certain someone’s scarf. The ringing stopped, and you were finally able to hear the voice you loathed. 

“Are you okay, sunshine!?” He asked, his eyes filled with worry. “I found you on the ground and you weren’t responding, so I called Chiron. He’ll be here soo–” 

You shoved him away from you. “Just stop!” You yelled, overwhelmed from the vision you just witnessed. Your body felt warm and sweat trickled down the back of your neck. You were shaking uncontrollably. 

He frowned. “I was just trying to help! You looked–” 

“I don’t need your help!” you retorted, your chest heaving as you finally let all your anger loose. “I never have and I never will! Why would I ever need help from the likes of you, anyway? All you do is belittle me!” 

His brows furrowed. “What? No, I never meant to–” 

“Just go away!” You shoved past him, leaving your broken bow on the ground. 

Diluc was happy to be back, but as he scanned the crowd of people at the party, he couldn’t find you anywhere. He could’ve sworn Kaeya said you were here. 

He tossed a glare in his brother’s direction, only to see Kaeya just as disappointed at your absence as he was. That was when Mona, one of your half siblings, approached them with a panicked expression on her face. She was breathless from running, and judging by her urgency, there was something wrong. 

Kaeya, already having a feeling it was something to do with you, stepped forward. “What happened?” 

“It’s (Name)!” Mona panted, taking a moment to wipe the sweat from her brow before continuing. “She had a vision. Ajax said he found her passed out on the ground after leaving the target area. She’s in the infirmary now–” 

Kaeya pushed her aside, setting off into a sprint towards the infirmary. Without a second thought, Diluc followed, leaving the party behind. 

When you came to, you were in the infirmary. You didn’t know how you got here, but all you could remember was the vision you had hours prior. Your head was pounding– a side effect of precognition, and your whole body felt hot. Did you have a fever? 

You sat up, wincing as the sunlight filtering through the curtains hit you right in the face. It did nothing but add to your awful migraine. Where were you? You took a look around, your vision a little blurry from just waking up. 

“Well good morning, sleepy head,” a smooth voice said, placing a hand to your forehead, “I was starting to get a little worried you wouldn’t wake up!” 

As soon as your vision cleared, you saw none other than your father sitting next to you, a wide smile on his face as he stared down at you. He retracted his hand and placed it in his lap. 

“Dad!? What are you doing here?” You questioned, your voice hoarse. 

You reached for the cup of water on the table next to the infirmary bed. You gulped it all down in seconds flat and let out a sigh of relief. 

Apollo crossed one leg over the other and placed his chin in his palm. “Why do you think I’m here, sunshine?” 

That nickname– that dreadful nickname. You used to like when he called you that, but not after Ajax started using it too. It sounded like he was mocking you whenever he addressed you as such. 

“I don’t wanna talk about it,” you threw the blanket over your head and curled into a ball, “so go back to Olympus, or whatever.” 

Your father chuckled. “You have to tell me everything you saw, sunshine. Otherwise, I won’t leave. And I think we both know that I am a very patient man.” 

A tense silence passed. You could still feel his presence in the room even though it was completely silent, devoid of a sound. For a few minutes, you were silent, biting your lip out of nervousness.  

Truthfully, you were embarrassed to tell him what you saw. It wasn’t something you wanted to share with your father of all people. And knowing him, he’d tease you to hell and back for it. You wouldn’t say anything, you decided. 

“Fine. If you’re going to be stubborn like that boyfriend of yours, then why don’t I tell him what you saw?” 

You jumped up, a terrified look in your eyes as your father laughed raucously. You glared at him. He was so vexing sometimes. You never understood a thing he said or did. Then again, you never understood a single thing any of the gods did. You probably never would. 

With a heavy sigh, you sat against the wall and explained your vision to him, avoiding his gaze the entire time. It was embarrassing enough you had to tell him, but it would’ve been worse if you were looking at him when you did so. 

After you finished, he hummed thoughtfully. “I see,” he muttered, “well, if I had to guess, my dear beloved daughter has a crush on this child of Ares.” 

“I do not! And I never will!” You immediately sputtered, feeling your cheeks heat up. 

He snickered. “I think you do. After all, that vision spoke for itself.” 

You shook your head, adamant that you didn’t harbor any sort of feelings for the ginger you claimed to hate all these years. There was no way you liked that crazed, warmongering lunatic. Your father was off his rocker. Officially. 

“It’s false. There’s no way I like that wackjob.” You crossed your arms over your chest. “All he does is fight people. He never stops. It’s so annoying. And don’t get me started on the way he smiles when he gets hurt, like he enjoys it! Who in their right mind is happy when they’re practically bleeding out!?” 

Your rambling took your father by surprise, but he was amused nonetheless. This was the first time you got so riled up like this, and all because of a boy. He couldn’t help but find teenage love so, so amusing– especially when you were the one experiencing it. 

“I think someone has a crush!” He said again, only for it to be shot down by you once again. 

“As if! I’d rather take a swan dive into the bottomless pit where Kronos resides than fall for that warmongering brute!” 

He sighed. “The prophecy always comes true, sunshine.” 

You shook your head. “Not this time.” 

Apollo stood up, placing his sunglasses back over his eyes before handing you something. He ruffled your hair. “You can’t escape fate, my dear. I think you’ll be in for a rude awakening.” 

With that, he disappeared into a flurry of golden flames, leaving you alone in the infirmary. On your lap sat a golden lyre, another gift that you would add to your collection of instruments and weapons. This one seemed particularly special, though you couldn’t place your finger on why. But your father’s words echoed in your head, even weeks after his visit. 

You avoided Ajax like the plague, ignoring him on most occasions, and making sure you didn’t have to interact with him on others. Until one night, you found yourself training with Kaeya. You excelled with bows, but you were also a swordmaster. Reestablishing a firm grip on your sun blade (gifted to you by your father), you swung your sword at your brother once more, clicking your tongue when you just barely grazed his arm. 

Your swords clashed, and with one final push, you knocked him onto his ass. His sword flung out of his hands, landing somewhere in the distance. You let out a small laugh, standing over him with your hand outstretched. He took it without a second thought, and you pulled him to his feet. 

“You’ve gotten stronger,” he told you, pride evident in his voice, “how much have you been practicing on your own?” 

“A hell of a lot,” you answered, giving him a lopsided smile, “Jean’s been sparring with me. She’s a formidable foe.” 

Kaeya laughed, retrieving his sword. “Indeed, she is. Though, it’s rare for you to take her on. Have you been missing your usual victim?” Of course he threw in a tease. He always did. 

You sighed. “I’ll admit it’s been a bit boring.” 

He raised a brow. “That’s it?” 

“What do you mean? What else am I supposed to say? You know I hate his guts.” 

He shrugged, though you knew he was hiding something. “I just thought, after your talk with father, you had a change of heart.” 

Your heart dropped to your stomach and you froze. “Dad talked to you?” 

“Briefly. He told me about your vision. I must say, that vision sure is revealing the desires hidden in your heart–” 

“Dad told you!?” You screeched, fear bubbling up inside of you. 

If your father told Kaeya, there was a chance he might’ve spilled the beans to Ajax as well. You didn’t know how you could ever face him again. If he knew, you’d have to launch yourself into the nearest pit of vipers and hope you never come back out alive. 

Your pride– and your dignity, were ruined. 

Kaeya patted your head. “Not the specifics,” he reassured, “just that it included a certain someone. And no, before you ask, he didn’t say anything to said individual. He only told me… and maybe Diluc.” 

You groaned before you let out a whine. The next time you saw your father, you were going to kill him. Well, you’d try to. 

“I better get back to the cabin,” Kaeya sighed, “I’d like to shower before bed. You coming back with me?” 

He hoped you’d say no, but only because he had a little plan hidden up his sleeve. 

You shook your head, much to his relief. “I’m gonna stay out here a bit longer. I wanna practice with more dummies.” 

He smiled at you, genuinely this time, and pulled you into a tight hug. “Alright. Just don’t wear yourself out. If you aren’t back in an hour, I’ll come and drag you back to the cabin myself.” 

You laughed and pushed him away from you playfully. “Yes, mom.” 

He laughed softly in return, messing up your hair again as you protested and swatted his hand away, before he set off back to the cabins. 

Your smile slowly faded as he got farther away, and you looked down at your sun blade. In the darkness, it looked like just any old scrap of metal, but in the sunlight, it glowed a magnificent gold. It was a sword many children of Apollo had used before you. That’s what your father told you when he had given it to you. 

Only the best warriors born from your father were given this sword. And upon their death, it would stop glowing and your father would take it back into his possession before giving it to the next child. When the sword was given to a new owner after the former owner’s death, it would glow brightly again, filled with the life force of whoever wielded it. 

You gripped the sword tightly in your hands. You could feel a small thrum run through your fingers. That was the sword. It was talking to you, bonding with your life force. Although it lost many wielders in its life, the sword always glowed again. Just like the sun, it always came back. 

The sound of footsteps drew you out of your stupor, and you saw the figure of your arch nemesis approaching you. You let out a sigh. What did he want? And at this time of night, too. 

He raised his spear wordlessly. A small, almost invisible smile pulled at his lips. He wanted a fight… again. But this time felt different, as if he had come to some sort of realization. It wouldn’t hurt to allow him this one fight, especially when he wasn’t opening his mouth. 

So, you raised your sword and positioned yourself into a fighting stance. A few seconds passed. The air was silent. Then, in a flash, the two of you dashed forward. The sound of clashing metal was loud in your ears, but you were focused– more focused and attuned to your opponent’s attacks than you’ve ever been. 

He grazed your arm, you hissed. You slashed his side, he let out a small sound of pain. Back and forth you went, minimally hurting each other and side-stepping and clashing. Finally, you let out a frustrated yell and swung your sword. You didn’t care where it landed, as long as you beat him at his own game. 

It happened too fast for you to notice. One moment, you were filled to the brim with adrenaline, and the next, you watched as he collapsed onto the ground, holding the side of his head. It all happened so fast… 

You panted breathlessly, your chest heaving as you stared at him in complete and utter shock. The adrenaline was wearing off, and you could finally move your body. You rushed forward, throwing your sword to the ground to kneel beside him, pulling his hand away from the deep gash on the side of his face.

Did you do that? 

“Let me see.” You said worriedly. You were experienced with wounds, as most of your siblings were healers. 

Before you could get a closer look, he knocked you back. The wind got knocked out of your lungs, and you could feel your head throbbing. You raised a shaky hand to your head and slowly sat up, groaning at the pain. 

Ajax stood in front of you, his face devoid of the smile he always wore, and the side of his head covered in crimson blood. Your vision cleared, and when you looked up, your eyes widened. You knew how the next events played out, you saw them for yourself. You gulped, your shock turning into anger as you glared at him. 

“I win.” He said flatly. 

You huffed, looking away from him. He knelt down in front of you, and you squeezed your eyes shut. You wouldn’t let this play out like it did in your vision. 

You wouldn’t. 

“There. We’re even,” Ajax muttered, “You pulled a dirty trick on me. I returned the favor.” 

You shoved him away, though he barely budged. “That’s just like you. Selfish, prideful. You always have to have the last say, the last laugh.” You spat. 

Ajax was quiet for a moment, studying you. You began to feel anxious under his scrutinizing gaze. You fiddled with the grass beneath your fingers. 

He held his hand out, and you stared at it. The fire in his eyes was gone, and he looked just about ready to pass out, but you could tell that he was fighting off the urge to close his eyes. You had the chance to get up and leave. You didn’t have to take his hand. 

Yet, you found yourself drawn to him. Like a moth to a flame. And so, you grabbed his hand. He held tightly onto yours, pulling you closer to him and wrapping his other arm around the small of your back. You still had the chance to push him away. To let him pass out here on the grass. 

But you couldn’t. You couldn’t move a single muscle. You gripped tightly to his shirt as he pulled you closer. Your brows furrowed as he opened his mouth. 

“Sunshine, I.. I’m sorry.” 

You certainly weren’t expecting that. “For what?” 

“For making you feel weak. Your brother told me…” 

You were 100% going to punch Kaeya in the face when you got back. 

“You’re not weak,” he told you, his voice firm, “I don’t have weak opponents. I have strong ones. Ones who I want to test my strength against because I know they’re gonna send me packing, but I still come back anyways. Because the only way I can get stronger is if I fight those who are stronger than me.” 

“I don’t need your–” 

“Would you just shut up and listen for once!?” He snapped, holding you tighter. 

That made you shut up instantly. 

He sighed heavily. “I’m not pitying you. I’m being sincere. I only ever fight against you because you’re strong, and I want to learn from you. My master taught me that every battle is worth it, that every person I fight is someone I can learn from. You’re one of those people. So shut up and realize your own strength. Your own worth.” 

You stared at him with wonder in your eyes. He held your gaze. 

“You’re the pride of Apollo’s children. Even your father has recognized your strength. Please, just see it yourself. See yourself the way I do.” 

“I…” You couldn’t say anything. You didn’t know how to respond, so you did the only way you knew how. 

You pulled him closer, pressing his lips to yours in a slow, gentle kiss. His lips were chapped, and you could taste the metal of the blood from the cut on his upper lip. His kisses were messy but gentle, as if you were fragile and he was handling you with the utmost care. 

When you pulled away, he leaned his forehead against yours. A smile erupted onto his face, so dazzling you felt as if Cupid had struck an arrow through your heart at that very moment. He let out a content sigh. 

“Do you see now?” 

“I don’t know…” you trailed off, “maybe if you kiss me again, I will.” 

He chuckled, his warm breath hitting your face. You smiled, caressing his face with your thumb. “And I thought I was slick.” 

You hugged him tightly, scared of letting him go now that you had him in your embrace. 

“(Name)... I feel dizzy…” 

“Oh shit!” 

You spent that night in the infirmary, nursing his wounds.

© 2024 mikashisus. do not plagiarize, copy, repost, feed to ai, or translate my works to any other platforms.

[tiddygame]

Ghoap god type AU.

Soap is the long forgotten god of death.

Ghost is his first follower in a very long time.

Ao3 /// part 1 /// part 2 /// part 3 /// part 4 /// part 5 /// part 6 /// part 7 /// part 8 /// part 9

————

At first, Soap had been seen as kind and benevolent. The one to end someone’s suffering and help them along to the afterlife. However, as more wars began to break out, his perception changed into that of a bloodthirsty warmonger. The type that you sacrifice the blood of innocents to for luck in your upcoming battles.

Soap had simply ignored the brutish offerings. But then they spread. Like a plague, soon everyone was murdering their chosen victims in his temples in the hopes that it would bring them even more fortune.

Realizing that his presence was just causing more and more to die, he let himself fade away. He was reduced to nothing more than a comforting feeling people felt before they died. Over time, the so-called offerings stopped. Scared of what would happen should he return, he continued to fade.

A god is only as strong as their followers believe them to be. With no followers, no offerings, they are nothing. While mortal weaponry may hurt a god, may even get them to bleed, it cannot kill them. A god can only truly die when they are no longer remembered.

Soap is waiting for the day that he is truly forgotten and can pass on when he gets a feeling. One he has not had in an age. Though his worshippers have abandoned him, his temples and statues remained, though now significantly worse for wear. And someone just provided an offering of a single slice of bread on one of his statues.

A meager offering, sure, but it’s enough to get his attention. He has almost no power nor any energy left, but he sees a soldier sitting next to the statue as he ate his meal.

Meanwhile, Ghost hadn’t the faintest clue what god he just gave an offering to, but he felt a little better afterwards and so just hoped they weren’t evil. He took note of the statue’s appearance and when his troop was encamped near a town, he snuck away to a local library to see if there were any books he could find about it.

He was not apart of the army willingly, but he owed them a life debt and they had decided that it would only be repaid upon his death. Just a glorified prisoner, he was kept at the general’s side as his favorite weapon. Sneaking away was difficult, but definitely doable. The few times he was caught, he made enough of a disturbance that it was easier for everyone involved to let him do his thing.

They did not need to worry about him running away. If he was able, he’d have run the second he was given the chance. However, he was stuck. As long as he owed a debt, he could not leave.

The statue, at the very least, gave him something to do.

He was intrigued. He did not recognize the features at all, and his research confirmed that it was not a well known deity. It takes a long time of asking the right people and finding the right books to uncover the story of the forgotten god.

Having read everything — from loving poems about the being helping sickly children find comfort in their last moments to angry anecdotes about desperate townspeople sacrificing themselves in the hope that the god would show them mercy — he decides to give the god the benefit of the doubt.

He figures the world is shitty enough, why not find some good that had been tucked away? Ghost himself was seen more as a weapon than a person and couldn’t help but sympathize. He was never one for gods or worship, more likely to curse the heavens than ever sacrifice something of his, but he almost felt bad for the being. So, the next day, from one bloodthirsty monster to another, he gives the forgotten god more offerings.

It’s still not much, just an apple and a ring the general wouldn’t notice missing, but he sets them there anyways. He damn near jumps out of his fucking skin when the feeling of an accepted offering floods through him. He stares at what would have originally been the face of the statue, but nothing happens. The trees behind him continue to sing their song in the faint breeze, with the sounds of a lively woods never fading.

There is no outside sound, no out of place movement, no indication that he hadn’t just imagined the feeling. A leaf falling from one of the branches and landing on the pedestal, where the offerings were now gone, snapped him out of his staring contest. He muttered out a gruff thanks and sat down to eat, ignoring the feeling of being watched.

[tiredsunrisesmeta]

Viktor & Singed parallels have me thinking about their scene in the commune & how Jayce is very much an unspoken part of it. I think the story Singed reads Orianna relates to Viktor (and Jayce)!

"His quest led him astray of any trodden path." = His quest for perfection leads Viktor to "cross the line" that no one has before. He gives up his humanity and becomes the Machine Herald.

"His own shadow dissolved to darkness." = Sky is Viktor's shadow in a way and the vision of her literally dissolves into darkness. She is ostensibly the last of his humanity. He is in complete darkness now.

"Now the only course was forward." = Forward is progress, progress is the Glorious Evolution. Once he becomes the Machine Herald, Viktor believes this is his only course forward.

"The only warmth, a dream of her waltz." = "Warmth" points to Jayce's blanket, something Jayce gave Viktor hoping to warm him from the cold. "A dream" connects to Viktor & Jayce's shared dream. Finally, "waltz" connects to partnership since it is a dance performed by a couple of partners. I also believe it forshadows Viktor & Jayce's confrontation in the council room for two reasons:

1) Viktor's robotic form vaguely resembles Orianna's game design. His movements are graceful like a dancer's.

2) Because of this Jayce & Viktor's fight somewhat resembles a dance.

The cog is another visual motif that connects Singed & Viktor's scene with Viktor & Jayce's confrontation. Viktor touches a cog while he talks about understanding the vastness of one's ignorance. Jayce touches the cog shaped council table as he remembers Viktor's death.

Something to note: the story Singed reads Orianna sounds like it's from a fairytale romance.

What really implies that Jayce is an unspoken part in this is this part of Singed & Viktor's conversation, spoken as Viktor continues touching the cog. The invisible hand is AU Mage! Viktor. Viktor's fate is to meet and love Jayce and to "die" with him. This love is the thing that can save Viktor's humanity.

Here, Vander represents Viktor. Viktor's rejection of the greed of warmongers and their hunger for conquest and his desire to save Vander's humanity is a projection of his desire to save his own humanity. His fate, entwined as it is with Jayce, will allow him to do just this.

Another detail: When Singed brings up Viktor's work to "save us from ourselves," Viktor instantly sees Singed's hypocrisy. Singed is motivated by love. As is Viktor. This foreshadows that it is love, not inhumam evolution, that will save Viktor from himself.

And so, from within the darkness and the endless push forward, the only warmth for Viktor is Jayce.

[flyndragon]

I really want to write an AU where Ezra travels back in time - specifically de-aged and sent back to Obi-wan's time on Melida/Daan.

Because even though this is a super shitty situation Ezra's kinda... thriving? Like all of this is so firmly in his wheelhouse its funny.

Ezra's been living on his own starving and stealing since he was 7. He's being doing guerilla warfare for most of his adolescence. As soon as this boy joins the cause it's hell. Every adult is getting mind-tricked. The young are now stealing everything that is not nailed down. Ezra's connecting with any local megafauna to cause distractions. He's teaching 'child soldier 101 classes'.

And emotional support too! Comforting kids mourning their dead parents? That was just his own character arc! Comforting kids whose parents are warmongering assholes? That's just Sabine's thing! A jedi that doesn't believe he's worthy of being a jedi? Kanan.

idk if obi-wan would be a little scared of this war kid or think he's the fucking coolest padawan obi-wan's ever met in his life. Lets say the latter because its funny to me if they're both kinda obsessed with each other. Ezra definitely hears the whole story of how Obi got to the planet and is 2000% on His Side immediately. Ezra is complimenting Obi-wan constantly cause he canonically can't shut up and obi-wan is blushing so hard All of the Time.

Anyway, when the war ends Obi-wan and Qui-gon bring him back to coruscant with them to present him to the council, ect. ect.

Ezra is conflicted about whether he even wants to join the order officially as a padawan. On one hand, it would be really nice to have actual traditional jedi training. On the other hand he really is going to have to do several high profile murders sometime in the next decade? two decades?, and doesn't know if the jedi should be connected to him lol.

[oleandequill]

A Reflection of You in Blue (SG TFOne Fanfic)

Original TF:One Optimus Prime ends up in a TF:One Shattered Glass universe and meets that universe's Megatron.

The difference in their universes couldn't be more clear.

---

Honestly, I wrote this fic for me and only me HAHAHA

Oh my god I love Shattered Glass so much and I really wanted to make the original tfone Optimus meet shattered glass tfone Megatron. Slight warning though that a lot of the stuff here is from my personal AU of a Shattered Glass TF:One. I'm happy to answer any questions if something is confusing. Just know that a lot of the references here are based primarily on the Fanclub Shattered Glass comics.

But yeah, I wanted to indulge myself a bit and write this fanfic hahaha.

---

“Are the cuffs necessary?”

He tested the metal restraints, wincing as a bolt of electricity ran down his servos. Optimus sighed, dropping his servos back against his lap. His tired blue optics warily looked up at the mech beside him, anticipating the cannon that would press against his helm at any moment. Instead of pain, he could only feel relief as the cuts on his shoulder were slowly repaired. Those servos - familiar yet so different - that only ever inflicted injury, could now only heal. Optimus couldn’t even bring his processor around to acknowledge this. Well, he could hardly process… everything.

“Soundwave verified that what you said was true, but please understand that everyone is still wary of you.” The mech stood back, having finished the repair process. Optimus could feel the energon in his cables turn cold as his optics met the other mech’s. It was the faceplate that threw him off. He looked so much like him… but everything was different. Instead of the dull gray frame, black helm, and red optics that pursued him even in his dreams, this mech was a brighter white. Even the black accents he had weren’t imposing. “This is to keep up morale.”

Morale… Optimus would laugh if the whole thing wasn’t driving him insane. The Decepticons and morale? Every Autobot knew that Starscream would have murdered Megatron and vice versa if the two didn’t have the same aligned goal. Even then, it was a common sight to see the two trying to kill one another even on the battlefield. Shaking his helm slightly, he turned back to this universe’s Megatron. The mech stared back at him, not a hint of emotion in that singular blue optic (and that detail freaked him out more than everything else had). “I won’t hurt anyone here.”

“I trust you. You’re different from the Optimus Prime of this universe. I don’t mean just the paint job but in personality.” Aside from the missing optic, it unnerved Optimus how cold this Megatron’s voice was. He had gotten so used to hearing his name yelled across the battlefield in rage that he had already forgotten what D-16 had sounded like. Has he always sounded this empty? No, Optimus had fond memories of D-16, even if he had forgotten his voice. “I trusted you since you first opened your intake. The Optimus Prime of this universe never calls me Megatron.”

“What does he call you?” It was a redundant question but honestly Optimus didn’t know what else to say. What could he say? Just a few joors ago, he had been in Iacon with his fellow Autobots, and now he was a universe away where apparently Primus was evil, some Primes were warmongers, and he was the current reason for the civil war happening in Cybertron. Even more confusing, the Decepticons were actually good and trying to stop this universe’s Optimus Prime even though Primus had given him the Matrix of Leadership. He needed a long recharge after all this.

“I think we both know.” Megatron let out a tired vent, optic closing before suddenly approaching. Unable to help himself, Optimus flinched back, expecting a phantom punch towards his helm. He felt almost guilty as Megatron stopped. It would take some adjusting. Even if he did look different, Optimus couldn’t forget his Megatron - the mech who was nothing now but rage and vengeance. This universe’s Megatron didn’t deserve to be stared at with distrust, but he couldn't forget the cycles of fighting that had left their mark on him. “He never flinches.”

Megatron said quietly, and then he was gone.

—

“My universe’s Megatron, even before he took on Megatronus’ cog, is a tankbot. Why do you have wings?” After finding himself stuck in this universe, Optimus spent most of his time by Megatron’s side, much to the suspicion of Starscream. Still, this Starscream (who was the leader of the Decepticons, and that did make Optimus laugh) had let it happen since Megatron had vouched for Optimus’ good character - and he needed Optimus nearby while he worked on a way to bring Optimus back to his universe. “And you’re a scientist! I’m not saying my Megatron is stupid, but… he wouldn’t…”

“There are many differences between your universe and mine.” Megatron stated impassively, hardly staring down from the equations he was pouring himself over. It had taken some time, but Optimus had come to find out that this Megatron was the Decepticon’s medic and scientist, with mathematics being a side passion of his. It was hard to process that the Shockwave wasn’t the mad scientist of this universe. Not that Megatron was mad, if anything, he had been nothing but apathetic around Optimus. “In your universe, your D-16 had resigned himself to the mines. I… A part of me could never.”

“That doesn’t explain the wings.” He knew he was pushing it, and he knew it really wasn’t what Optimus wanted to ask. It was that singular optic that continued to run in his processor. If this Megatron was a medic and scientist, why hadn’t he replaced it by now? Surely it wasn’t because he lacked the scraps or materials for it? Megatron finally looked up at him, and Optimus regretted trying to get the mech’s attention. Looking at that optic made him nauseous. “You still changed your designation to Megatron in this universe, so you must have Megatronus Prime’s cog.”

“I changed my designation because I admired Megatronus Prime, and to separate myself from my past.” The other mech scoffed out in irritation. It was the first emotion Optimus had managed to coax out of him. “As I said, our universes are different. Your Matrix of Leadership restored the transformation cogs of the cogless. Primus isn’t so kind in this universe. While he had granted us the return of energon, the transformation cogs were not restored. You said that your Megatron took Sentinel’s cog - which had originally been Megatronus’ - I did no such thing. Sentinel never even took Megatronus’ cog.”

“Then…?” He had considered the possibility that somehow Megatronus Prime had been a Cybertronian jet in this universe, but that didn’t seem to be the case. Optimus nearly panicked before Megatron had clarified he hadn’t taken Sentinel’s cog. The Sentinel in his universe had wings, and if everyone in this universe was different from who they were in his universe, had there been a possibility that Sentinel had been good? Optimus could hardly process the thought. Still, a part of him felt proud and slightly satisfied that Megatron hadn’t resorted to taking Sentinel’s cog. “If the transformation cogs weren’t restored…”

“There is one similarity you both share, it’s that you don’t know when to stop pushing and searching for information you shouldn't have, Prime.” The anger disappeared just as quickly as it had come. Optimus met the shocked look in Megatron’s optic, the mech surprised at his own rage. Megatron headed quickly towards the doors. “Understand this. When Primus… When your god has forsaken you, then sometimes you have to pave your own path forward. You can’t rely on a god that doesn’t care for you. Sometimes, you have no one but yourself.”

Then Megatron was fleeing out the door.

—

“I’m sorry.” It was the first words that Megatron had said after their confrontation. Optimus looked up from the datapad he had been reading through. They haven’t had any luck in finding a way to send him back, so Optimus had busied himself by learning this universe’s history. It was hard though with the limited information (he wondered if there had been a deliberate erasure of the records…). He had nothing else to do, especially since Megatron had avoided him after the incident. “I lost my temper at you, and I think I owe you an explanation for my reaction.”

Before Optimus could object, the mech had already sat down beside him. Selfish as it was, Optimus wished Megatron had sat to his left, since at this angle, he could see the empty socket where Megatron’s left optic should have been. “As you know, during a war, desperate measures happen and it can’t be helped when energon is spilled. The Decepticons have never resorted to extreme measures in the same way our Autobots have and I’m sure in the same way your Decepticons have either. Except one. I’ve eradicated any trace of the technology so it could never be repeated.”

Megatron let out a weak laugh. “The other Decepticons were furious. Possibly the only time Starscream had turned his anger on me… It was unethical of me, but I think at the time, I needed to do it. I was still D-16 then, and I was still cogless. It was only a few astroweeks after we’d been banished to the surface by Optimus Prime. I had been sparkbroken and I thought I would die from the betrayal. It would have been selfish to do so, not when I knew that Cybertron couldn’t be left at the hands of a tyrant.”

There was a tense silence, and Optimus knew that Megatron was stalling. He should really tell the mech to stop. He wasn’t owed an explanation… but he would be lying if he said he wasn’t curious. Megatron went on, “You would know, I think, but it isn’t easy fighting a mech you once loved. I knew that if I wanted to take down the mad Prime, I would have to do something really drastic. I only ever tested it on myself. I would never let any mech undergo the process. The technology has since been destroyed. It’s for the best.”

Optimus looked down to find that Megatron had curled his servos into fists, and his face was contorted in pain. “I reprogrammed all the emotions I had ever held for my Orion Pax. I couldn’t separate him from the mech he had become, so I forced myself to remove the feelings I had for him. It shouldn’t have been done, but the mech who I had been - when I had been D-16 - couldn’t live knowing he’d been betrayed by the one mech he thought would always stand by his side. Now… Now all I feel for that Prime is apathy.”

Awkwardly, Megatron placed a servo on his shoulder, as if to console him before quickly running away. Optimus sat there, taking in the information. Apathy. Megatron felt nothing for his universe’s Optimus Prime. He could piece the rest without the other mech having to say it. He had run off after their confrontation because he had been scared. He assumed that since he was just a different version of this universe’s Optimus Prime, that he would feel nothing towards him too. Optimus’ thoughts didn’t stop there.

He couldn’t help but wonder if his Megatron would have done the same thing.

—

“Your optic…”

The other mech stared at the wall, unable to meet Optimus’ own gaze. He had found out by accident. He had been reckless and left the Decepticon base during an ongoing battle. He had only wanted to help. While he had been on the battlefield, he had finally caught sight of his counterpart. Instead of the blue, this universe’s Optimus Prime was painted in purple. Honestly, they might have looked the same if it weren’t for the difference in color, but there was one difference that still scared him. The optics. One was red… and the other blue.

“You banished your D-16 to the surface. If I still had my emotions for this universe’s Orion Pax, I think I would feel jealous that you hadn’t hurt your D-16 so badly.” Megatron walked past him, giving him a look over his shoulder pad as if to check if he would follow. Optimus did. He had waited until Megatron had finished repairing the mechs that had been injured during the recent battle to ask him about his optics. Now they were both in the hallway outside the medical bay. The air felt tense. “Mine wanted to take away my optics.”

Optimus stayed silent. Honestly, what could he have said after hearing that? Never ever had he considered doing that to another mech. Not even his Megatron who wouldn’t hesitate to kill him! That lone blue optic stared up at him, waiting for his response but Optimus needed a moment to vent. He could never imagine… The more he learned about this universe’s Optimus Prime, the more he felt lucky that the Decepticons and Megatron in his universe weren’t that depraved in the processor. He could hardly believe that a version of himself would ever be capable of such brutality. “W-why?”

“If I refused to see things his way, then I didn’t deserve to see at all.” Despite the coldness and indifference in Megatron’s voice, Optimus could only feel the horror that the other mech must have felt when he could still feel emotions for what had happened to him. “He pinned me down. It was foolish to fight him without a cog but I needed to stop him before he caused more damage to Iacon. He didn’t take my betrayal well. He had taken out one optic before Starscream got him off me. Then, I fled with the High Guard.”

When his universe’s D-16 had shot him with a cannon, at least he had felt some remorse. At the end, Megatron had let him fall. Still, even after what his former friend had done… Even after the pain of betrayal Optimus had felt - how sparkbroken he had been at the loss - he would never have hurt Megatron that way. He couldn’t convince him, so he let him leave. From the way this Megatron spoke, it was almost as though he hadn’t been banished - as if his Optimus had wanted to keep him, even if it meant hurting him that badly.

“You don’t have to live like this, Megatron. You’re a medic. You could repair it yourself.” Optimus couldn’t understand why Megatron remained this way. That lone blue optic met his gaze, and in them, he could almost see the last remnants of affection that D-16 held for his Orion Pax.

“I keep it as a reminder of what I had lost, what I had chosen to do to try to forget, and…” Megatron gave him a sad smile. “As a hope that one day, he may be able to see through my optics, the way I couldn’t see through his.”

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

In my actual SG TF:One AU, Megatron loses his arm because Optimus did axe it before banishing him. In this fic he's missing an optic and wasn't exactly banished mostly because I came across a really good fanart on Twitter and I couldn't stop thinking about it skksks

[aethershroud]

Happy Thanksgiving, from someone who doesn't even celebrate it! lol. lmao even

Characters:

War Pearl (left bottom)

The Traveller (left middle)

War Lilac (left top)

War Meggy (right bottom)

War Pomni (right middle)

The Acolyte (right top)

Lord Karsum (head of table)

[jayflying]

The Flower Husbands / Ethubs parallel (No Stranger Curses AU):

Alt Title: "Why Scott and Etho do not get along."

Scott falls in love in the last days of summer. To him, love looks like gold. Sunlight caught in golden hair. Warm wind blowing through golden leaves. Two gemstones studded in a golden ring. They make their home in a place where all the flowers of autumn bloom, the poppies and roses and marigolds. They ignore the warmongering and drama. While they can, they choose to be happy.

He is not so naïve as to believe this will be forever. Not so foolish as to believe his strength will be enough. This "game" means nothing but death for all of them. But he puts that all aside, because he wants. He wants to hope. He wants to love. Even if he knows it will break his heart.

The days grow shorter, and darker, and colder, and he is so, so scared. He should trust Jimmy to protect himself, but he doesn't. He tries to stop fearing the worst every time they are apart, but he can't. He's not proud of the alliance he strikes up to protect them both, but for the two of them he would do anything and it would be worth it.

…He buries Jimmy where the dawn's first light catches on winter's final flowers. He knew this was coming, dreaded the inevitable, but his heart still hurts. He carried on because he was fighting for more than just himself, but what now?

When he falls, he hopes that at least he can be at peace. When he wakes again, that hope is shattered. Scott thinks he might be the only one who remembers the game that came before. It doesn't matter. He'll see this one through to the end, no matter what.

Etho falls in love beneath grey skies. His love is all the colors of the forest that surrounds them. Green like the trees, like the moss, like his eyes. Brown like the dirt, like their doorstep, like the color blood dries. Loving Bdubs is easy. It feels familiar. It's not hard to imagine that maybe somewhere, before everything, they loved like this.

(Scott sees far too much of himself and Jimmy in the two of them. It leaves a bitter taste on his tongue. He knows exactly how this ends.)

Etho isn't one to frame his love in light and flowers. He frames it in the careful arrangement of quiet and noise, laughter and empty threats. They make their home a castle, white walls on a snowy mountaintop. They build up every battlement with their own bare hands, pretending, if just for a moment, that they can escape the game outside for good. Live in peace forever. Stave off the looming shadow of death.

The first time Bdubs falls to his red life, Etho is terrified. He blusters, and schemes, and fights, because it is the only way he knows to hide when his voice trembles and his hands grow unsteady. Over and over again, he claws Bdubs back from the brink. He stays up late into the night, every night, restlessly planning for every possibility. Exploiting every advantage, every person, with vicious dedication.

(Scott does not entertain his threats for even a moment. He's sure to give Etho a piece of his mind whenever he tries. "Give up on him", he all but says. "You're just prolonging the inevitable." His words are met with disdain.)

The last time Bdubs falls to his red life, their castle is torn apart, and that feels like an omen. The survivors, no matter their old allegiances, band together out of necessity, and Etho can't help but notice that Scott immediately asserts himself. He doesn't like it, but he's been wearing himself thin for months now. He's too tired to piece together quite why this alliance makes him feel uneasy.

Bdubs finds them hours later in the middle of the night, crimson-eyed and not quite himself; sinister in the way all red lives are. There's no further way around it. Etho can feel the static-buzz of magic in his chest as he offers Bdubs a life, and yet Scott stops him. "He needs to earn it", is the objection. "Have him kill someone for us," Scott whispers in his ear. He hesitates. That seems… fair. Right? A life for a life. That makes sense.

It is not until far, far too late that Etho numbly realizes what Scott has done. He never gets to bury Bdubs. He never gets to see the body. He's never quite the same again, distant and short-spoken. Cleo is the only one who seems to realize that he is so desperately angry.

(Scott does not feel bad about this. He does not regret this. He tells Cleo as much when she confronts him about it. They argue about it all the way up until the fateful battle with Joel. Scott knows he's right, though. There was only one way this was ever going to end.)

[ofteasandherbs]

Debating on wether or not to draw out an au in my head, one where Ambessa does “secure the scientists” by finding Jayce at his absolute lowest waiting for viktor to to come out if the cocoon… maybe consoling him, saying he’s doing the right thing?

I just think the idea would be cool. Viktor could come out and question why jayce is working with a warmonger.. there is potential here..

[panur]

AU where Geralt gets his wish when he asks life to take Jaskier off his hands: Geralt gets isekai'd to an AU where Jaskier never met him and thus didn't spend 20 years cleaning his reputation and those of other witchers/nonhumans by extension

some headcanon highlights of this AU (feel free to use or discard):

this world is Awful, the way they treat Witchers in general (and Geralt in particular) is HELLA bad. Refused service and entrance in more than half the towns he enters and being paid poorly if he gets paid at all, people terrified and hateful towards him

He finds out Pavetta jumped off a tower after her mother had Duny killed (guess you're finally free of that child surprise, Geralt...)

Calanthe has become an unhinged warmonger having nothing to lose, particularly against elves, who are even more decimated than usual

Eskel was killed as result of witcher propaganda getting MUCH worse after the raise of the white flame + the whole Blaviken thing

Vesemir is a shadow of himself, living alone in Kaer Morhen, not having talked to anyone for years

Lambert moved permanently with the cat caravan and blames Geralt for Eskel's death

less witchers in general (with a lot having died or retired since continuing in the current conditions is unsustainable) means a lot more monsters, particularly Necrophages and Wraiths

Yen is disfigured and severally weakened/borderline disabled after getting majorly cursed from eating that infant dragon's heart + several botched attempts at making it better (maybe they can use the djinn to fix the timeline?)

#it's free real estate prompt just tag me so i can read

[kenobisanakin]

Deity Anakin Devotee Obi-Wan AU

au where Deity Anakin descends to the mortal realm to grant a boon to his devoted worshipper King Obi-Wan, and is extremely surprised when the King does not ask for wealth or fame, but for Anakin himself.

He has watched over Obi-Wan for a long time, he is the Patron God of Stewjon after all. The God of Balance, of Life and Death, of Wealth and Prosperity, of Harmony. He has blessed the reigns of Stewjoni Rulers who have been devoted to him well, but Obi-Wan had always been special.

The young prince had been taken with Anakin since the day he first saw his statue at the age of 4. Every day since then he'd spend an hour, early in the morning at Anakin's Grand Temple in Stewjon's Capital.

Anakin had found it endearing and sweet, had made sure to bless the prince for it. Obi-Wan would need it. One of 12 brothers as he was, he'd need everything in his arsenal to win the Throne after his father's demise. It was the way. Anakin considering intervening slightly to help Obi-Wan out.

But he didn't have to, ambitious as he was, Obi-Wan managed to ascend the Stewjoni Throne at the age of 25 all by himself, his hands stained with the blood of his brothers, older and younger.

(Anakin would never forget the way Obi-Wan had thrown himself at his altar and sobbed after killing all of his siblings.)

Then the wars began. It seemed the newly crowned King Obi-Wan had found the taste of his brothers' blood intoxicating, for he jumped into battle. Conquering kingdom after kingdom, turning his small kingdom into an Empire spanning continents. He did it all in Anakin's name.

Anakin could not bear to watch it all. The bright and clever child who used to study at his feet was no more, in his place was a warmonger, an Emperor, one who had built his name, one who had spilled so much blood that Anakin couldn't take it.

One who still fervently worshipped Anakin.

The people of Obi-Wan's new empire had begun to herald him as a God, as common mortals do with any great one amongst themselves, but much to Anakin's surprise, the Emperor had refused the title, praising Anakin instead, the deity of Stewjon. He had temple after temple was built for Anakin across the Empire, had found brought him so many devotees that Anakin knew not what to do.

(Anakin still couldn't let go of Obi-Wan. Every time Obi-Wan prayed to him, he would give him his blessings, wish him good fortune in his battles, wish him happiness in his life - though the last one never seemed to happen)

Anakin never had a devotee who had dedicated themselves so entirely to Anakin, who worshipped him so well, so religiously. So during the Huge Ritual Ceremony for Obi-Wan's 35th Name Day at the Grand Temple of Anahkeen in the Stewjoni Capital, Anakin appeared in front of Obi-Wan.

The mortal whose devotion was so great that he had managed to summon a deity to him, but Emperor Obi-Wan did not care for any of it as he fell to his knees, hands folded in worship, his eyes trained on Anakin and Anakin alone, ignoring the thousands gathered in the Temple Halls to witness the Rituals.

Anakin's glowed as he walked to Obi-Wan from the head of the altar, His golden curls bouncing, his golden wings folding back so as to not spill any of the offerings left for him. He bent down to look into Obi-Wan's eyes with a sweet smile, his hand tenderly caressing his cheek.

"You have attained a greatness beyond mortal reach. Yet throughout the years, you have held me in your heart and on your lips, you have not forgotten I. And I have not forgotten this. Make known your heart's deepest desires, and I shall grant it to you, Obi-Wan."

Obi-Wan gazed in reverence. The deity who he had loved and worshipped since he was a boy, the deity whose words and worship he had wished to spread across the lands. Who was as beautiful and ethereal as he had imagined. "My heart wishes for one boon alone, and that is you,"

Anakin had expected the man to ask wealth, land, good fortune for his descendants. But never this. Never Anakin himself. But Anakin can not bear to say no, so he grants Obi-Wan his wish.

He will give himself to Obi-Wan until they have a child of their own, a heir for Obi-Wan's empire who is half-god, and once Obi-Wan has the child, a child who is half-Anakin, he will leave. The Emperor accepts this with grace, kissing Anakin's divine feet and hands in gratitude, with a smile so bright and joyous that it stuns him.

He had never seen Obi-Wan this happy before.

[blueskyscribe]

The reason the third set of Earthspark episodes were such a disappointment to me was that I expected all the plot threads from the previous two thirds of the show to interweave and instead a lot of them were just dropped.

Like why did Optimus need to keep Bumblebee's existence a secret? Why did GHOST think he was dead? And what consequences did Optimus face once GHOST found out Bee was alive? Seemingly none. Optimus showed up so little in the second batch of episodes that I kind of thought they'd retaliated against him and imprisoned or brainwashed him but nah, he's fine and it's never explained why Bumblebee had to fake his own death.

What was the Cybertronians' war initially about? It is unbelievable to me that this wasn't explored. First, it's interesting! Second, it would give us insight into the motivations of the Decepticon ensemble.

The show is a sort of a "what if" AU based on G1, and in G1 the Decepticons were warmongers who wanted to rule the galaxy and enslave everyone. However, if you've read MTMTE you might notice Megatron chiding Shockwave for dismissing the Terrans as "lower class beings" and conclude that the war was about classism. But ultimately the viewer shouldn't have to fill in the blanks from other media. Earthspark should address this within its own show, because the question "Can the Decepticons be trusted, can they be redeemed?" can't be answered without it. Like, if the Decepticons were just The Evil Bad Guys then it wouldn't matter, but if you want them to end up freely walking the Earth then it's extremely important to know if the average 'Con's motivation for joining the army was "I'm standing up for my civil rights" versus "y'know, I just love killing people." Especially since, unlike the easy-breezy G1 cartoon, in Earthspark the TF war resulted in human injuries and deaths.

Shockwave and Soundwave's complicated feelings about Megatron never get resolved or even addressed outside their solo episodes. Which is very odd in a series that put such an emphasis on working out emotional strife, what with the cyber-sleeves and all. In the finale the Decepticons team up with the Autobots and Terrans because Mandroid wants to destroy all robot life: a purely physical threat. And that was a cool fight. But it doesn't resolve any of the emotional baggage. This disappointed me because the emotional fallout of Megatron's side-switch was the most interesting part of the show imo.

Then there was the Starscream episode, which felt like the "Dear Princess Celestia" moral in the last two minutes of a MLP FIM episode without showing how the conflict played out in the previous twenty minutes.

Earthspark got renewed for a second season. (And I'm glad! It has a lot of potential, that's why I was pumped during the first two-thirds!) But they thought they might only get one season, and if that was the case they would have left us with all these dead ends.

[karuvapatta]

buckle up, I'm gonna bitch about Arcane season 2 for a while.

disclaimer: the animation and art direction is absolutely stellar, writing and voice acting is mostly solid, music ranges from good to amazing, sound design is great, and it's a great show overall.

HOWEVER:

There were so many interesting subplots and ideas, but not one of them had enough room to breathe or time to develop organically.

(spoilers under cut)

Caitlyn - I love the subplot about her becoming a fascist dictator and Ambessa's pupil, I really do. But then it sort of fizzled? She faced no repercussions for installing a police state and using chemical weaponry against civilians? The last one got to me especially - her mother built this system claiming that "the people of Undercity deserve to breathe" and Caitlyn then turned it against them. Okay, Vi and Jinx both called her out and it left to her rift with Vi, but... she's still in charge at the end, having seemingly learned no lessons?

Vi - uh, she was there. Sort of. Most of the time. Again, she joined the Enforcers, and it led to SOME conflict, but... is she going back to being an Enforcer? how does she feel about that? Who knows - Vi was mostly there for Cait and Jinx's subplots than her own.

Jinx - her subplot with Sevika and Isha was my second favourite thing about this season. The idea of her becoming a symbol and uniting Zaun is great. That little moment in the prison was awesome. But, ultimately - it didn't amount to much. Her sacrificing her life for Vi (or not, I don't know if she actually dies) didn't hit as much because we already knew she was actively suicidal.

Isha - had the potential to be super annoying, but like I said, I ended up really liking her character. Her death rubbed me the wrong way, however - it was very emotional, but the framing was very strange. Were we supposed to find it inspirational? Tragic but beautiful? Proof that Jinx isn't irredeemable?

Sevika - again: loved her, loved her interactions with Jinx and Isha.

Silco - I found it weird how this season consistently framed him as a good guy. Jinx and Sevika remember him fondly, he was the only thing holding Zaun together, there are cute flashbacks / AU versions of him and Vander being happy... he's a complex character and we love him for it, but let's not forget his many, many crimes.

Singed - kinda weird that he got what he wanted with no repercussions.

Mel - all right, her subplot bothered me perhaps most of all. Mel is a joy every time she's on screen, true, but last season she had been established as a savvy politician and businesswoman, motivated by her mommy issues, and a corrupting presence on Jayce. She pushed for progress at all costs to fulfil her own ambitions and prove something to her mother. That's a great setup! But what we got in s2 is... random superpowers out of nowhere. Mel always had power - she was the richest woman in Pilltover and basically ran its Council - but now instead of confronting her with the potential side-effects of Hextech, the consequences of her ambitions, and the futility of proving herself to her abusive warmongering mother, she just gets... more power. Out of nowhere. And validation from Ambessa. It was just weird.

Jayce and Viktor - easily the most compelling part of this season, and my favourite subplot. And STILL - it felt rushed and incoherent. I thought at first that Viktor would become jealous and resentful because Jayce is everything that he isn't, and I am honestly so glad they didn't take that route. But instead, Viktor gets... brainwashed by the Hexcore I guess? Ascends to a higher plane of existence? His Jesus Days and his cults were fascinating, but I didn't get the philosophy behind them at all. I can see why Viktor would want to shed his physical body for a machine that has none of its weakness, and how he might convince others to follow that path, but instead he chose to brainwash his followers and then assimilate the entire human race? What? There were so, so many potential sources of conflict between himself and Jayce - the Hextech weaponry Jayce built, Pilltover's fascist takeover of the Undercity, Jayce reviving him against his will and not destroying the Hexcore, accidentally poisoning Ekko's tree through their irresponsible use of Hextech... but the conflict we got didn't built on any of that. And I don't understand why.

(But I get you, Jayce/Viktor shippers. You won this round.)

[gabessquishytum]

Following the cow!Hob/cat!Dream and warprize brainrot - 1689 AU?

King Hob is mentally and physically defeated when he’s bound and dragged into Dream’s throne room to be given as a gift. He’d fought as long as he could, but the final siege had left him scrawny and gaunt. Queen Eleanor and Prince Robyn had succumbed to fever so recently that his chest is still swollen with milk despite his poor condition. He’s expecting that whatever they’re going to do to him, he won’t survive much longer.

King Dream seems unimpressed with this gift from Burgess’s warmongering kingdom, but his interest is clearly piqued when he scents the fresh milk staining wet patches on Hob’s thin tunic. He beckons for the cow to be brought closer, then slashes the fabric in half with one sharp claw. Hob blushes at this latest torment - he’s already lost everything and now he’s standing in front of this court with his tits out on display.

Of course his embarrassment isn’t complete yet - King Dream leans forward and licks delicately at one plump nipple with his rough tongue and Hob moans involuntarily, deep and lowing. King Dream’s eyes flick up to meet his as he carefully takes the nipple in his mouth and suckles deeply - Hob discovers what a humiliation kink is when he realises he’s hard in his breeches. Dream drinks his fill, purring the whole time, before ordering this cow to be taken to his personal chambers.

As he’s dragged away, milk-stained tunic flapping around his bare breasts, Hob’s not so sure he’s ready for death to take him just yet - he’s got so much to live for!

🐙

Poor sweet Hob 😭😭 he's having such a rough day.

But. It gets better. Once he's deposited in the cat King's personal chambers, Hob is immediately tended to by Dream’s closest personal servants. Jessamy kindly removes his ruined and stained clothes, without any judgement towards his state of arousal. Hob is then thoroughly bathed (the servants are clearly expecting a fight over this, but Hob is not a cat - he quite enjoys his soak in the warm water). He's so sleepy by that point, but then he's served a lovely dinner (the cat people do at least realise that Hob is a strict vegetarian) and of course he's starving, so he foregos sleep in favour of eating his fill for the first time in many months.

Dream comes to his chambers and finds his new cow companion spread out and snoring on the royal bed. This brings a smile even to the King's face, and he dismisses the servants silently before climbing up onto the bed and curling around Hob. Despite the recent hardships Hob is still pleasingly soft and Dream purrs in contentment as he settles in for the night.

Next morning Hob wakes to the familiar sensation of a hungry mouth at his teat, and he almost imagines that he's back with Eleanor and Robyn... but he quickly remembers the true circumstances. Its not so bad though. Soft, warm paws are kneading gently against Hob’s thighs, and it's like a nice massage. It's not long before Hob is hard again, and this time there's nothing to preserve his dignity. One of those soft paws moves upwards, and all two soon Hob’s cock in being thoroughly petted by Dream. And the king doesn't stop sucking away on his tits until there's nothing left to give.

Hob discovers that now, his purpose is to sate the cat King's thirst. No longer a king in his own right, he exists only to please Dream. And yet, there's something rather freeing about that. Not to mention, Dream seems to be generous, and fascinated by Hob’s pleasure... perhaps he'll be more than just a source of milk for the King after all...